The Gathering of the Accursed Artifacts

From the mists of obscurity
 rises one desperate to be worthy
 to inherit the mantle of sin
 and from the twilight ascend
 To the northern throne
 Seeking and searching
 A helm of terror
 symbol of wickedness
 His mask an emblem of his master
 A cursed blade emanating corruption
 His own Tyrfing
 demands blood be spilt
 A black shroud,
 the womb of night
 worn to conceal his sin
 He screams for vengeance
 for crimes all but unknown to him
 Scattered into the winds of history
 the accursed artifacts now gathered,
 bound with the spirit of evil,
 surge with unholy power
 terrible forces gnawing at his mind,
 pushing him ever onwards
 The path is clear,
 he has seen the revelation:
 He must apotheosize himself
 To the northern throne
 Seeking and searching
 A final absolution dictated from forces unknowable
 He is a tool, a vessel of darkness unfathomable
 Create order by destruction
 to snuff out the light of the stars
 An ancient imperative
 from times immemorial