Words cannot convey something small.

Shining Knights fall to their knees, as valiant stalwart figures of righteous stance.

Not to a the Goblin King.

To their kingdoms they are symbols of gaudy justice, upholding right through honorable focus.

Not for a Goblin King.

All jibes and tales aside, the real truth stands strong. And the song of lore could only dance along. The knights of the Goblin Kingdom are frightening, with warts upon end standing strong.

This befitting of a Goblin King.

Such prowess upon the backs of dragon steeds. Two superior to four, as the thought, living cannon balls fired by the comically divisive.

The prestige of a Goblin King.

Who protects the realm from its own antics, these all fall to the King himself. No mere knight or sentient body acts without his knowledge or word. The actions are all his purported duty, all under the cape of his rule.

This is the Goblin King.

Will, whim, wallow, whimper, whisper, wail, or whine before the Goblin King. Nothing will do, begging for mercy or for more will seem small. Whatever he will have will be his own, that day has now come.

Here sits the Goblin King.

Thrown before his mercy, there is nothing left. Only the weakness left as a merit to thee, a single and solitary reaction of null. Looking upon the boots, one can see. Here is our majesty, oh there he is.

With beauty all within, from his gaze falls thin, with luxurious measure all he stands to gain. His presence is all the heavier, and as he speaks: there is glee.

"Well, laugh."

Hail be to the Goblin King.