Waves of Fury Jovian Layered Rhyme

For vested flock, savage belief may fail.  
Craving fortunes find, the last dragons scale. 
They’ve seen where devotion beats disguise, 
mourn on the graves and worry, bound to die. 

O'er battered hide and bloodied bone they tread, 
bearing dragon heat, and smells of the dead.  
They found much more than glory did unfold. 
The dragons there were far from dead, nor old.  

Forced to the ends of earth, lost in the mists, 
they gather round the crew, and shake their fists. 
The dragons fly and rage against the sky,  
borne on the waves of fury, mountain high.  

Of tattered pride in ruddy tomes they read, 
sharing flagons sweet and grim tales of dread. 
Confounded such true stories went untold,
the dragons fair were marred in red, for gold.  

Of course my friends of worth must then resist, 
pray rather pound the few than break a tryst. 
To drag on sighs, and stage a saints goodbye,  
torn the brave and weary, mount and die.  

By Jove !