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 My Poem

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Mindrop
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PostSubject: My Poem   Tue Mar 01, 2011 12:32 pm

Amodan.
Centurion of the Royal Elven Guard.
Seasoned Warrior tried and true.
His mind was sharper than his sword.
Éimhín was at his back.
His bow strong and his arrows straight.
They led their troops to battle,
Across the bridge of Arnen,
To fight the hordes across the way
To protect the fair City of Blood.
The ruins across lay bare;
The ash whipping in the breeze.
The shadows were lifeless,
The Likan hordes withdrawn deeper into the scorched lands.

To the edge they weaved, ever wary of the absence.
There they saw the horde
Greater than any city before.
The horde marched forward,
The Elves fell back.
Across the bridge they formed ranks,
Making their stand with the city at their back.
They waited the hours calmly in formation
Éimhín’s archers with arrow on string.
Steadily, the Likas gathered,
Until the call was given.

The stone bridge shook but held
As the enemy streamed across.
Two Thousand Elves
Alone against the horde
For the wall archers
Could not support them.
The distance was too great.


Sparks flew.
The blood flowed from Elf and Lika alike.
The Likas flowed fast
Like the great river which splits the land in half,
Like the surf against the rocks
They came, unrelenting.

The sun rose high and began to fall.
The attack never ceasing.
Night came, but no rest.
When the moon reached its zenith,
Only the champions remained.

Twenty archers.
Their arrows spent.
Blades long ago drawn.
Twenty sword-elves.
Their blades dull and chipped.
The forty stood,
Protecting the land against the trolls and Likas
Whose end was not in sight.

Amodan slipped
Upon the life-blood at his feet.
He was saved by his friend,
Alodan in name
Skilled beyond any Elf in magic
Yet great with the sword.

As dawn appeared
The forty were gone
Cut down to only four.
Éimhín.
The centurion archer.
Eodad.
One from his ranks.
Alodan.
Magician and Sword-Elf.
Amodan.
The leader of them all.

The Likas now were passing by
Headed for the city
Although they never would survive
Against the archers there.

Eodad fell
As the sun crested
Éimhín soon joined him.
Amodan fought back to back
Alone with his friend.
Onward they pressed against the horde
Grief fueling their bones.

Suddenly,
The horde was gone.
They found themselves on the other side.
Screams still came from the city
As the archers did their work.
From the shadows stepped a man.
Tall and well built.
His eyes level with theirs.
His armor was thick,
Dark sickly green scales covered it.
From his iron grasp
Dropped the length of a whip,
Tipped with a barb,
From which dripped an oozing slime,
The same color as his scales.
The poison of bitterness, pride and anger was laced on his tongue.

“Well done, Elves.
You survived my horde
And the city stands.
But know that shall not be true for long.”

“Then die we shall."
“If the Creator wills it.”
Amodan spoke in unison with Alodan.
At the man’s hip reposed a rapier,
Which he drew.
It dripped with the same ooze as his whip.

“You may try,
You will fail.”

“You are fresh,
But we are two.”

The whip cracked
An inch from Amodan’s face
Alodan then fell, with the barb In his chest.
Amodan’s sword
Shone in the sunlight as he sought
To drive it home.
His heart failed
Too old and tired
To fight any longer.

The man’s rapier found its mark
Its kiss of death
Not needed.

Suddenly,
The voice of Alodan rose
As he drifted to sleep.
He set a curse upon the man:
That he should die
By the hand of his own race.
The curse raised white on his forehead,
White against the darkness of his skin.
It was written in the man’s own tongue.

As the man walked away,
Feeling his scar,
He stumbled as he was struck.
An arrow from Arnen had found its mark.
An impossible feat,
No Elven bow could reach that distance.
With the arrow came the cry
Baireth.
Son of Amodan.
Who had stood upon the wall
Among Arnen’s best
And watched his father die.

The man did not die
But the curse pained him.
He lived in agony from that day on.

Years later,
Baireth named his son
Alodan
To honor the Elf who had fought with his father,
Alodan.
The noble.
Skilled in magic and in sword.

The two thousand elves
That day stopped the destruction of the city.
From their sacrifice
The city has grown large and proud,
Twenty thousand strong.
They still remember that day.

Hear ye Elves!
Hear Men!
Hear Dwarves!
Hear peoples of the world!
For Arnen will never be defeated
While her sons stand like Amodan and Alodan
To the very end
noble and True.
Forever, they will live on in her memory.


Last edited by Mindrop on Wed Mar 02, 2011 10:40 pm; edited 2 times in total
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Captain Tezuka
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PostSubject: Re: My Poem   Wed Mar 02, 2011 9:21 pm

Woah. Long post.


Hmm, this kind of poem reminds me of the Aenied, Oddessey, and the Illiad. I like it, it tells a nice story.
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Mindrop
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PostSubject: Re: My Poem   Wed Mar 02, 2011 10:27 pm

Wow, I need to edit that. It got skewed compared to how I had entered it in.

EDIT: THERE! Fixed it, now it is much shorter, the way it is supposed to be.
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PostSubject: Re: My Poem   Thu Mar 03, 2011 1:01 am

Yeah man, it was really hard to read xD

Thanks for editing, haha.
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Mindrop
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PostSubject: Re: My Poem   Thu Mar 03, 2011 1:12 am

When I copied it over, it was like that. Stupid transition.
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PostSubject: Re: My Poem   Thu Mar 03, 2011 1:35 am

Yeah, it did that to me when I copyed my story chapter over.
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My Poem

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