Excerpts
Narrative:
The Barbaric North
They march in numbers unseen across the land
Uniform in movement, shields raised to the sun
Their battle is imminent, victory is at hand
They will charge and kill until the battle’s won
The northern warrior moves through the night
Moving swift against the gusting snow
Great bolts of lightning strike with might
Unstoppable waves of wind will blow
A villages he visits, a great force he creates
To defy the transgressors among the land
They march from their huts, through the castle gates
An army of few, but vigilant they stand
The warrior leads on, they seek glory and blood
They shall purge the vile under his command
Trudging forward through the seas of mud
The journey may be too much to withstand
Cloaked in black, surrounded by sin
The enemy is sure, laying in wait
Their sinister general, the evil within
Assured that his victory will be great
At the edge of the forest, the armies descend
Shrouded in thick mists, the night seemed surreal
Hatred develops as the two forces contend
They clash in a swarm of glimmering steel
The battle ensues, madness takes hold
Confusion and death become the stage
It is barbaric to see their fury unfold
The warriors are consumed with rage
“The battle is ours” he bellows aloud
The traitors retreat and cower in fear
The villagers, now warriors, are standing proud
The carnage has ended, they let out a cheer
Defiantly, he sheathes his ebon blade
Slaked with the blood of fallen foes
Behold the field where a legend was made
Bodies of the slain, laying in rows
Never again did the evil return
Their existence is no longer known
The village now lives free of concern
The northern warrior sits upon his throne.
Ballad.
Assassin
On the cobblestone her movements are light,
As she moves across
Cautiously moving slipping through the night,
Her gain is their loss.
With dagger in hand she begins to stare,
Her target is near.
He approaches, she begins to prepare,
She can sense his fear.
So precise and deadly are her thoughts,
He strolls unaware.
That must be the man, Sir Edward Von. Kots,
He begins to swear.
“These people are mad to think of me wrong,”
He complains aloud.
“I haven’t asked for taxes in so long,”
He seems very proud.
She knows his lies, manipulative ways,
As blatant as sin.
Something must be done, her mind sets ablaze,
The anger sets in.
She is so close, and in range to attack
He turns, she strikes bold.
He falls quick, and hits the ground with a clap
The night is very cold
The families he’s ruined without remorse,
Friends he’s betrayed.
A cause for great anger, this was the source,
Met with death by the blade.
No comments:
Post a Comment