Hyborem skinnypic
Race: Demon
Unit Class: Melee Unit
Requires: Spawns with Infernal Civilization
Starts With: Can Use Bronze, Iron, Mithril Weapons
Resurrected in the civilization's capital if killed
Sentry I
Sentry II
Iron Weapons
Info: 7 Strength +2 Unholy
2 Move
Cost: 0 Production
Special: +5 to Armageddon Counter
Infernal Civilization will lose all leader traits except Fallow if Hyborem dies

Hyborem is a Hero unit for the Infernal civilization that comes into existence when a civilization researches Infernal Pact.

Hyborem starts with the Immortal promotion, but does not regain it upon his death--to permanently rid the world of Hyborem, he must be killed twice: once to remove the Immortal promotion (at which point he will respawn in the Infernal capitol), and a second time to truly kill him. A bonus of killing Hyborem is that the Infernals will lose all leader traits except Fallow upon his death.


Lo! Death has reared himself a throne
In a strange city lying alone
Far down within the dim West,
Where the good and the bad and the worst and the best
Have gone to their eternal rest.
There shrines and palaces and towers
(Time-eaten towers that tremble not!)
Resemble nothing that is ours.
Around, by lifting winds forgot,
Resignedly beneath the sky
The melancholy waters lie.

No rays from the holy heaven come down
On the long night-time of that town;
But light from out the lurid sea
Streams up the turrets silently-
Gleams up the pinnacles far and free-
Up domes- up spires- up kingly halls-
Up fanes- up Babylon-like walls-
Up shadowy long-forgotten bowers
Of sculptured ivy and stone flowers-
Up many and many a marvellous shrine
Whose wreathed friezes intertwine
The viol, the violet, and the vine.
Resignedly beneath the sky
The melancholy waters lie.
So blend the turrets and shadows there
That all seem pendulous in air,
While from a proud tower in the town
Death looks gigantically down.

There open fanes and gaping graves
Yawn level with the luminous waves;
But not the riches there that lie
In each idol's diamond eye-
Not the gaily-jewelled dead
Tempt the waters from their bed;
For no ripples curl, alas!
Along that wilderness of glass-
No swellings tell that winds may be
Upon some far-off happier sea-
No heavings hint that winds have been
On seas less hideously serene.

But lo, a stir is in the air!
The wave- there is a movement there!
As if the towers had thrust aside,
In slightly sinking, the dull tide-
As if their tops had feebly given
A void within the filmy Heaven.
The waves have now a redder glow-
The hours are breathing faint and low-
And when, amid no earthly moans,
Down, down that town shall settle hence,
Hell, rising from a thousand thrones,
Shall do it reverence.
- e.a.p.

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