Poetry for Bhaalspawn...
This is a thread for pointless BG related poetry. Please put your random poetic tat here... Or just enjoy the randomness of my own attempts!
Lets start...
Once there was man called Gorion... A limerick
Once there was man called Gorion,
Who was manly and brave as a Lion,
But one thing did scare him,
Troublesome Imoen,
So he left with the other young scion!
They met a young man who did mock,
Who went by the name of Sarevok,
Who demanded his ward,
And waved a big sword,
Made Gorion think 'what poppy cock!'
He did not trust his benevolence,
Did not treat his demand as relevant,
The greatest of mages,
The wisest of sages,
Ended up as of little irrelevance!
Surely he should have cast TimeStop!
Or cast Wish to end up on top!
Instead he was placid,
Casted Melf's arrow of acid,
And his head was neatly lopped off!
His ward was a little ungrateful,
His ward was not even helpful,
The right thing to do,
Was to bury and go,
But instead, looted his corpse disrespectful!
by Anduin
Lets start...
Once there was man called Gorion... A limerick
Once there was man called Gorion,
Who was manly and brave as a Lion,
But one thing did scare him,
Troublesome Imoen,
So he left with the other young scion!
They met a young man who did mock,
Who went by the name of Sarevok,
Who demanded his ward,
And waved a big sword,
Made Gorion think 'what poppy cock!'
He did not trust his benevolence,
Did not treat his demand as relevant,
The greatest of mages,
The wisest of sages,
Ended up as of little irrelevance!
Surely he should have cast TimeStop!
Or cast Wish to end up on top!
Instead he was placid,
Casted Melf's arrow of acid,
And his head was neatly lopped off!
His ward was a little ungrateful,
His ward was not even helpful,
The right thing to do,
Was to bury and go,
But instead, looted his corpse disrespectful!
by Anduin
7
Comments
Moomintroll was a merry old soul,
And a merry old soul was he;
He called for his slippers, and he called for his cuppa
And he called for his BG-EE.
Every game he would take Neera,
And very fine Neera, was she;
Oh there's no wildsurge so rare, as can compare
With Moomintroll and his Neera x3.
http://www.baldurdash.org/kangaxx.html
There was a young lobster named Tresset,
Who liked to play a Mage with a Ferret,
But who was the familiar,
And who the magic wielder,
Was it the Lobster or was it the Ferret?
Once upon a midnight dreary,
while I pondered weak and weary,
the old sage Gorion, came knocking, knocking,
ignoring the locking,
at my door.
Sagely man then bleakly said,
arise my ward, out of thy bed!
For away must we flee, depart,
at once now we must needs start,
from our door.
I trusted him, so off we flew,
to parts unknown, that not we knew.
Gorion thought that we were chased,
that quickly now we must be paced,
for run we must, from more than four.
While thinking we had made escape,
and to my horror, and all agape,
we encounterd a black-clad man,
to our safety he was a ban,
I was afraid to my core.
The armored black knight, and all his band,
said "Hand over your ward! You shall not stand!"
Gorion said "Run child!"
And run I did, panicked by awful hand,
ashamed and lost, from terrors afore.
Now hated morning came,
and I to shameful scene, and lame,
did return, Gorion's death to behold.
I fell to the ground and cried,
for lost mentor, my sanity tore!
Now would I swear revenge,
over all kindness, no mercy to henge!
Now would I become the black knight,
the other to slay,
with love's heart only yore.
And years gone by,
have no joy do I,
everything ever good, gone to me.
One thing remains must,
the black knight in store.
Still I have not killed him,
my hatred of him has to me all stem!
I must slay him, I must!
To the innocence and kindness,
and to all love:
Nevermore.
That was so AWESOME! You have set the bar very high @belgarathmth
The offspring of a god,
With strength and wit he was endowed,
And a temper gentle and mild.
The evil cultists snatched him up,
And tried to take his head,
But in strode the brave Harpers,
Who saved the other kids instead.
Sarevok, young Sarevok,
Keep your spirits high,
Sarevok, poor Sarevok,
or else you'll surely die.
His youth was snatched away from him,
He walked the streets alone,
Where once had stood a helpless child,
A brave young man had grown.
An urchin of the city streets,
A bag of skin and bone,
Until old Reiltar found him there,
And raised him as his own.
Sarevok, kind Sarevok,
To your needs this man should tend,
Sarevok, bright Sarevok,
Are your troubles at an end?
But Reiltar had a hardened soul,
And could not abide deceit,
His wife had been unfaithful,
For this she paid the greatest toll.
Reiltar held poor Sarevok,
And made him watch the scene,
The boy looked up to Reiltar's eyes,
And saw a morbid sheen.
Eventually he became aware,
The truth about his blood,
And with the help of Winski Perorate,
Came knowledge like a flood.
To stop the evil bhaalspawn,
From ascending to the throne,
He had to trust his righteousness,
And conquer all alone.
Sarevok, bold Sarevok,
Rode forth to Candlekeep.
Sarevok, brave Sarevok
What sowings will you reap?
"I've come here for thy ward," said he,
And kindly offered peace.
"Just let loose that Bhaalspawn's hand,
And let him come with me."
But Gorion was a cunning fiend,
And paranoid to boot,
He told his little ward to flee,
Said "I'll vanquish this foul brute!"
Taken by surprise,
His party members slain,
Sarevok rose up,
So that they would not die in vain.
He vanquished foul Gorion,
But the taste was bittersweet,
The young ward had escaped his grasp,
and his party all deceased.
High and low he searched,
To find the little beast,
But all his noble, valiant friends,
Found nothing but defeat.
From his mind he cast the little imp,
Into shadows hoped he'd fade,
But at every turn the little brat,
Spoiled the plans he'd made.
And in grand Baldur's Gate,
He won the iron throne,
He grew to love and feel respect,
In this new life that he was shown.
Sarevok, sweet Sarevok,
Your troubles are not through,
Sarevok, old Sarevok,
The little whelp has come for you.
So in the grand and sparkling hall,
A party did commence,
To recognize grand Sarevok,
And pay him recompense.
In stalked the evil demonbrood,
His party at his side,
So fled the great, kind Sarevok,
Underneath the city cried.
But the little swine was not content,
And chased him to his lair.
A fearsome battle underwent,
That warmed the cavern air.
Bold Sarevok had been killed,
The young Bhaalspawn yelled aloud,
Triumphant cry, the beast was glad,
Of most heinous murder, he was proud.
So ends the tale of Sarevok,
The greatest soul the world has met,
And to him and his fellows,
Charname owes a heavy debt.
Sarevok, great Sarevok,
It's not your final fall.
Sarevok, great Sarevok,
You'll be back in hell and Throne of Bhaal.
But I managed to read that before the transmitter died! Awesome.
I always felt Saveoursock was a misunderstood character...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_detailpage&v=0cD9cBEaNBc
You may like this sad piece of rotten poetry that came to me in the shower this morning...
*High voice*
In the library, the mighty library, Gorion sleeps tonight.
In the library, the mighty library, Gorion sleeps tonight.
*Deep voice*
With Im-o-en, With Im-o-en, With Im-o-en, With Im-o-en...
In the library, the mighty library, Gorion sleeps tonight.
In the library, the mighty library, Gorion sleeps tonight.
*Deep voice*
With Im-o-en, With Im-o-en, With Im-o-en, With Im-o-en...
*High voice*
And PAAAAARRRDAAAAA-A-a-A and Teth-o-to-ree-ollll....
*High voice*
In the forest, the quiet forest, Gorion dies tonight.
In the forest, the quiet forest, Gorion dies tonight.
...
Now back to my original love sonnet for Jaheria...
Do I compare thee to a winters day?
For you are more frosty and frigid...
Personally, I blame the literature educational establishment, that always focuses on the socks and sandals, but never on the ankle!