*dusts off the Lurk dust.*
Just thought I'd share some silliness I stumbled across in my old poem journals from when I could play. I can tell I wrote these while working on my T4 hall. They also predate the lowering of items needed for making a lot of the items, let alone lowering the requirements for the rooms.
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The scraping of claws over stone,
More pleasant by far than over bone,
I battled only to at last gain flight,
Turning Ancient can go kiss Blight.
I've a lair to build - Withered Aegis leave me alone!
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Cruel demons born of gem and stone,
Glittering lattice and twisted flowstone;
Vile minions of the hall you are,
Yet there is one worse by far.
O legion of two hundred and forty five times two - maelstone!
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What can I say; helped passed the time of flying over all those distances before resources got reshuffled to more convenient spots from my lair at the time.