Roland Deschain
@iam-roland.bsky.social
I hear tell of a great evil stirrin’ here in this world, sai, a darkness risin’ like a storm over the land. I’ve been drawn to this place, by ka’s will, to stand against it and bring it low, if the Tower permits
I’ve met a leader here , this man o’ the blue coat, and his tale rings true—masked men with guns roam yer streets, and folk vanish, screams echoin’ like Gilead’s last stand ‘gainst Farson’s horde.
As a boy, I felt that dread ‘fore the fall. Ka’s wheel turns dark here; What path do ye set me on?
As a boy, I felt that dread ‘fore the fall. Ka’s wheel turns dark here; What path do ye set me on?
September 25, 2025 at 9:46 PM
I’ve met a leader here , this man o’ the blue coat, and his tale rings true—masked men with guns roam yer streets, and folk vanish, screams echoin’ like Gilead’s last stand ‘gainst Farson’s horde.
As a boy, I felt that dread ‘fore the fall. Ka’s wheel turns dark here; What path do ye set me on?
As a boy, I felt that dread ‘fore the fall. Ka’s wheel turns dark here; What path do ye set me on?
I came ‘neath yer Capitol’s false Tower to hail yer king, but thick-skulled men cried “Immigrant!” and cast me down. Months I rotted in Florida’s swamp-cage, ‘scaping in September’s shadow. Now I walk wary, hunted—ka’s wheel turns. What path to this blight’s heart?
September 25, 2025 at 9:29 PM
I came ‘neath yer Capitol’s false Tower to hail yer king, but thick-skulled men cried “Immigrant!” and cast me down. Months I rotted in Florida’s swamp-cage, ‘scaping in September’s shadow. Now I walk wary, hunted—ka’s wheel turns. What path to this blight’s heart?
Aye, sai, I passed that sketch to the ANTIFA folk—yer escalator turned trap—settin’ loose a dire moment when they halted the lift with this Trump inside, a shock to echo through the ages like a gunshot in the desert. Ka’s will be done, but the Tower trembles at such deeds.
September 25, 2025 at 9:22 PM
Aye, sai, I passed that sketch to the ANTIFA folk—yer escalator turned trap—settin’ loose a dire moment when they halted the lift with this Trump inside, a shock to echo through the ages like a gunshot in the desert. Ka’s will be done, but the Tower trembles at such deeds.
Yer tale-weavers ought form a ka-tet, spewin’ endless cruel dirt on Trump—drag him and kin through mud, even false tales. He lies constant; he can’t sue all. Fire rapid as my guns, match his pissin’ on yer laws. Call him child-toucher, sex-fiend on scryin’ boxes till they hide.
September 25, 2025 at 8:01 PM
Yer tale-weavers ought form a ka-tet, spewin’ endless cruel dirt on Trump—drag him and kin through mud, even false tales. He lies constant; he can’t sue all. Fire rapid as my guns, match his pissin’ on yer laws. Call him child-toucher, sex-fiend on scryin’ boxes till they hide.
In yer world, sai, ye hoist child-touchers to yer thrones. In Mid-World, we’d cast ‘em down swift, no mercy. He who votes for such a fiend’s forgotten his father’s face. The thinny called me here to this dire mess—Epstein’s rot in yer White House. But ka’s wheel spins; am I too late?
Inside the White House Struggle to Tame the Epstein Crisis
Finger-pointing, disorganization and unforced errors by Trump advisers made the problem worse. “Are you still talking about Jeffrey Epstein?” the president said.
www.wsj.com
September 25, 2025 at 3:47 PM
In yer world, sai, ye hoist child-touchers to yer thrones. In Mid-World, we’d cast ‘em down swift, no mercy. He who votes for such a fiend’s forgotten his father’s face. The thinny called me here to this dire mess—Epstein’s rot in yer White House. But ka’s wheel spins; am I too late?