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The Iron Crows Anthology


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The Iron Crows Anthology

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By

Borris Iver Kortrevich, KML

ON THIS 9TH OF JOMA AG UMUND, 460 E.S.

 

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Table of Contents

  • Knights of the Crow - Bogatyr Period

    • Tale of Ser Matyas Baruch and Ser Barley Wick 

    • Tale of Ser Jakob Morovar

    • Tale of Ser Sebastien Ashford de Savoie

    • Tale of Ser Vladimir Var Ruthern 

    • Tale of Dame Giovanna Barclay

    • Tale of Dame Alexandra Barclay

    • Tale of Dame Ada Colborn

    • Tale of Ser Atilan Bishop

    • Tale of Ser Vladrik O’Rouke

  • Odes of the Fallen
    • Ode of Renata Barclay
    • Fall of the Wall
  • Additional Poems
    • The Oracle
    • To Monsters Unknown
    • Enemies Beware

    • A Peacekeeper

    • Eye for an Eye

    • Blood of a Warrior

 

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Knights of the Crow - Bogatyr Period

6an9Q-3D7_qNEi2yhM6S2Rc2kKZHezJ2s7K3tBgB_O0f5kami8G5q6fqM-EaLPfesdZ7MRykx5DwtVmkac6PuZFviO9ng0yRAnrz9Wght8yFKxh199ztzO2jWzwyLBfpuvikAByv_5rFE7RBKhjUc2cW8HST87fHg-NKBw-LzRMOaowZmkAFBOmqiNVOHA

 

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Tale of Ser Barley Wick and Ser Matyas Baruch

@ScourgeOfOrders@ThanksChris

 

Two valient Squires, a Baruch and a Wick, 
Set off from Karosgrad’s gates,
To Urguan’s outskirts they did haste,
To investigate a claim.

 

Where once stood Ando Alur’s ruins,
Innocents had gone missing,
The knightly pair, united in pursuit,
Would save them with their mission.

 

Silken threads, an eerie sight,
Coated corpses by the lakeside,
Toward the cliffs, with caution and light,
The pair did onward stride.

 

Desiccated bodies, a wretched find,
The squires now faced the night,
From the statue’s arms, a line of silk,
An innocent’s form in flight.

 

The pod was cut, it thudded down,
The squires sliced through the string,
On the woman’s face, a terrified frown,
The spiders their shadows did bring.

 

Matyas’ torch, and Barley’s stone,
Enchanted with flame,
Kept the beasts at bay, their fear unknown,
But they could not be tamed.

 

Steel and fire, a deadly combo,
The arachnids driven back,
A cloak to wrap around the woman,
On horseback, they did track.

 

Proof of their noble mission,
The eyes of spiders they brought,
To Karosgrad they both did ride,
The woman’s family, their report.

 

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Tale of Ser Jakob Morovar

@NLThomas

 

The sun rose high in the sky, and the knightly quest had begun.

The bold Jakob Morovar, determined and strong, marched on.

His courage was steel, his faith unshakable,

He had pledged his allegiance to his King and his people.

 

He had ventured to a distant land, to face a creature of fear.

An unseen terror, gelatinous cubes more fearsome than any mere mortal could bear.

Their forms were ever-shifting, they're being beyond explanation.

It seemed an impossible task to overcome this formidable opposition.

 

But Jakob was not deterred, for he knew in order to become renowned.

He would have to beat these monstrosities into the ground. 

He readied his Halbard, and steadied his sword, and leaped forward with bravery and zeal.

He charged forth against the gelatinous cubes, with the courage of a thousand men.

 

His blade clashed against their slimy form, and with each masterful stroke,

He chipped away at their formless shape, and with each mighty blow.

He slaughtered each one, one by one, until the final small cube was slain.

Then came something, a stinging feeling, a brilliant flash of pain. 

 

His leg was being eaten away, the shots of acidic liquid,

Had caused a deep wound, and Jakob Morovar was in dire need of healing.

But he didn't give up, he fought on, and before the morning's light.

He had slain the last cube and emerged victorious in the fight. 

 

And so the brave Jakob Morovar had triumphed over evil and despair.

He had proven himself a valiant knight, and was now worthy to wear. 

The golden crest of knighthood, for which he had longed for so long.

And his name and deeds will be remembered, in stories and songs.

 

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Tale of Sebastien Ashford de Savoie

@tcs_tonsils_

 

Sebastien de Savoie ventured forth,

Equipped for the task and not forlorn,

The Oracle told him of the beast,

That could blend in with the trees.

 

He crept through the Krusev forest,

Aware of each step that he'd take,

From the Maneater plant,

Many vines began to shake.

 

The Ashford de Savoie was aghast,

For the tentacles had already been cast,

They wrapped around his legs with might,

And tried to choke him in their vice-like plight.

 

They wrapped around his neck,

That vine is so hard to cut, so thick.

So he took his handy Aurum dagger,

and cut those ropes of the attacker.

 

To his feet the Savoyard got,

Determined to make this fowl plant rot,

He held in his hand a potion of fire,

For his would make it be its ire. 

 

He then threw the Carrion black,

The fire spread which was no slack,

The creature spewed an acidic blast,

Which burned Sebastien's shoulder and calf.

 

But his strength didn't lessen but rose,

He through the last will O' bottle at his foe.

The bottle burst, and the flames it had spawned,

The Maneater plant was reduced to naught but a mound.

 

Victory was achieved by the Savoyard alone,

He cut the tooth off the Man-Eater plant to take home,

He fastened a crutch of his greatsword to his side,

Before returning to Karosgrad in triumph stride.

 

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Tale of Ser Vladimir Ruthern

@Dyl

 

O'er the volcanic Firelands they go,

To pursue a dragon, old and slow,

With Prince Marius by their side,

To Cloudbreaker they stride,

 

Through perilous traps they press on,

undeterred by what was once gone,

Scattered swords and bones alike,

Letting nothing stand in their sight.

 

Vladimir's Bogatyr trial start,

Lying ahead, in the dragon's heart,

His small party, they pick up the pace,

To find Cloudbreaker, what an uncommon chase.

 

The ash and heat overwhelm the party,

But the Ruthern, he continues, hearty,

Making his way through the cave,

Able to complete what others couldn't save.

 

Alone and blinded, he steps forward,

The dragon's presence, he could sense and record,

His mission complete, the group did then return,

To the Firelands, where their journey began its turn. 

 

Vladimir's Bogatyr trial has come to an end,

No other could have found that dragon, he did defend,

His courage and bravery in the face of fear,

Will forever remain, even after the dragon disappeared.

 

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Tale of Dame Giovanna Barclay

@Oriaros

 

Giovanna, a woman of brave heart,

Ventured forth into the swamps of mud and water,

The pilum and knife, her only assurance,

She set out to ambush the ambusher of her caliber.

 

Forged with Conrad's cloak and Siegfried's potion,

She readied her weapon, her ishgardian motion,

Awaiting the opportune time to pierce,

The snake's hardened exterior with her spears.

 

But the creature was unyielding, its fangs and venom,

A venomous strike she knew could paralyze her if given,

Yet still bravely, she prepared her pilum and knife,

For the chance to out-ambush the ambusher of her life.

 

The creature made its move, as she hurled her pilum,

Piercing its hardened exterior to her success,

And the second pilum, it weakened its body,

But with its immense size, it ensnared Giovanna tightly.

 

Paralyzed by venom, with little to no time to act,

A daring strike with her knife atop the snake's mouth,

Finishing off the beast, she survived the scuffle,

Her courage, her valor, and her strength a ruffle.

 

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Tale of Dame Alexandra Barclay

@Ztrog

 

Alexandra the blinded squire, the bearer of much moxie and might,

Ventured forth to the murky swamps to face the Crackadonk in fight.

 

The beast so feral, so wild and free, with fiery breath and claws so keen,

Burned the forest, screeching its call, so Alexandra she could be seen.

 

With much preparation, the knight was braved, and with a trap she had devised,

Thrusting her weight, she sought her way, with a carved halberd in her fist.

The beast it sensed, it moved with grace, and in a moment it did see,

The deer she had cut, the bait so true that drew it to her destiny.

 

The nets, they failed, the chains they broke, her only weapon was the spear,

She threw a potion towards the Crackadonk, and with a roar it drew near.

 

The shield it blocked, it staved the flames, yet its force shook her heart,

The Barclay drove her halberd in deep, and tore the beast apart.

 

The Crackadonk, it fought and hewed, yet for its might, it had no match,

The blinded squire did cleave its head, and victory she did steal.

The murky swamps, they held no more, and Alexandra returned, 

With tales of glory and valor, her legacy forever earned.

 

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Tale of Ser Atilan Bishop

@Awesam5555

 

The Lord Bishop set out, with his crossbows ready,

Will’o bottles on belt, sword and shield held steady.

To the mountainsides of Attunlund, Atilan went,

His mind set on victory, no wish to be bent.

 

Up upon the cliffs did that looming beast sit,

A blight upon that land, nested near the Vuiller Remnant.

Though the creature did tower over the squire,

Neither courage would be relent, not wit expire.

 

His sword flashed in the sunlight,

As he fearlessly took on the daunting fight.

The eagle's wings were wide and brawny,

Thoughts of this man, haughty.

 

As Atilan did approach, it took to the skies,

Far beyond arms reach, the bird showing its true size.

He dived at the Bishop, it’s claws sharp as spears,

Though he ducked out of the way as it neared.

 

The he parried and thrust and sliced and lunged,

Slashing the monstrosity after it plunged.

The beast was too swift, and it soared into the sky,

It reach the a grand height, up out of sight.

 

The eagle's wings beat hard against the air,

Then downward did it dive once more, Beak aflaire.

But with valor and grit, did Atilan stand it down.

“I do this for Knighthood, for Honor, for the crown!”

 

So the squire stood, cutting with ferocity,

Till the eagle held bloodied, a screech to the atrocity.

To it’s final breath, the blonde man battled,

As if fell to the ground the earth rattled.

 

Atilan Bishop had fought with vibrance and wit,

Even with the terror, never would he quit.

In the end he had done it, killed the giant eagle,

He fulfiled his test to be a knight, his blade, lethal.

 

6an9Q-3D7_qNEi2yhM6S2Rc2kKZHezJ2s7K3tBgB_O0f5kami8G5q6fqM-EaLPfesdZ7MRykx5DwtVmkac6PuZFviO9ng0yRAnrz9Wght8yFKxh199ztzO2jWzwyLBfpuvikAByv_5rFE7RBKhjUc2cW8HST87fHg-NKBw-LzRMOaowZmkAFBOmqiNVOHA

 

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Tale of Dame Ada Colborn 

@worldeltaii

 

Weaving a story of courage in the face of danger,

A Viscountess' heroics emerge for the stranger:

The wild headstrong morko bear,

Made her a task difficult to bear.

 

She met it with a brave heart and a sturdy halberd,

Although Ada's fear rose like a gathering cloud,

The desire to protect her people would not hold her down

Forever marked the Viscountess's renown.

 

The bear stood baring its fangs as it stood on its haunches,

Though Ada did not move, its intimidating stance sparked a faint flinch.

She remained valiant against the beastly menace,

For she knew it was her role to protect her people's defense.

 

 And so, with a mighty blow to the bear's shoulder,

Ada was able to gain a brief respite.

With a jump, she was upon its back,

A feat that made the beast fret and pack.

 

This fury of rage the bear felt around,

Made the Viscountess entrapped and bound.

But her courage proved more powerful than her fear,

For, with her halberd, she struck it, the blood to smere.

 

And so, with a final thrust from her weapon's steel,

The wild beast was felled, Ada's relief to feel.

Her courage and valor, no doubt was tested,

But of Jerovitz and Haense, she had successfully defended.

 

 

6an9Q-3D7_qNEi2yhM6S2Rc2kKZHezJ2s7K3tBgB_O0f5kami8G5q6fqM-EaLPfesdZ7MRykx5DwtVmkac6PuZFviO9ng0yRAnrz9Wght8yFKxh199ztzO2jWzwyLBfpuvikAByv_5rFE7RBKhjUc2cW8HST87fHg-NKBw-LzRMOaowZmkAFBOmqiNVOHA

 

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Tale of Ser Vladrik O’Rouke

@Cally

 

He came in search of a guide, a marterial spirit so strong,

One that could help him defeat the wrong. 

His Battle Master, Ar-Borok'Akaal, was of shamanistic arts,

And of Vladrik's request, his stubbornness set apart. 

 

Upon his arrival, the Iron'Uzg, greeted his friends,

Three shamans and a woman, who together at a table sat. 

They spoke of the trial ahead and what Vladrik must do,

The ancestral spirit Kinul was the place he must pursue. 

 

Without his needed tools, he had to swim far and deep,

Till the smell of the rank murk, made him weep.

He searched through the festering bog of those taken by death,

Till he found a blunt mace, a short sword, and a shield for his quest. 

 

A roared of some crackling beast, filled the splashing silence,

Vladrik didn't hesitate, he readied his sword, with no relent.

Three beasts of the shadow charged and were each taken care of,

But the Elven woman had been pulled from the spiritual plane, far above. 

 

Vladrik battled and fought, with utmost care,

Till another problem arose, when the Elven woman no longer was there.

The rat-like figure of plump posture, was his alone to assail,

Vladrik shifted with expertise, his tainted hand digging deep in its tail.

 

He fought and he screamed, until the rat lay dead,

Vladrik was weary, cautious, and his arm splattered in red.

They searched and they searched, but the elven woman was gone,

Vladrik and Borok devised quickly, and thus their journey was done. 

 

He returned to find a necrophid, and a darkwretch in the room,

The dark creature spoke of using Vladrik as a pawn for their doom.

But with one swift move, Vladrik disarmed the darkstalker from the start,

By returning with the skeletal arm, he tipped the scales, and won.

 

6an9Q-3D7_qNEi2yhM6S2Rc2kKZHezJ2s7K3tBgB_O0f5kami8G5q6fqM-EaLPfesdZ7MRykx5DwtVmkac6PuZFviO9ng0yRAnrz9Wght8yFKxh199ztzO2jWzwyLBfpuvikAByv_5rFE7RBKhjUc2cW8HST87fHg-NKBw-LzRMOaowZmkAFBOmqiNVOHA

Odes of the Fallen

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Ode to Renate Barclay

@Phersades

 

Renate Barclay yearned to be strong, 

To rise up from page and don a knight's garb.

Her ambition to soar and prove herself, 

Strove to vanquish each glowering barb.

Her soul was afire with passion, 

Her devotion to her dream unwavering,

She trained for hours each passing day, 

No task too hard for her striving.

Alas, fate intervened too quickly, 

Her dream was never to be fulfilled,

The task was not completed, 

her life was ended; her heart was stilled.

But though she never attained her goal, 

Her courage will vociferate on, 

For the legacy of Renate's dream, 

Shall forever propagate beyond.

 

6an9Q-3D7_qNEi2yhM6S2Rc2kKZHezJ2s7K3tBgB_O0f5kami8G5q6fqM-EaLPfesdZ7MRykx5DwtVmkac6PuZFviO9ng0yRAnrz9Wght8yFKxh199ztzO2jWzwyLBfpuvikAByv_5rFE7RBKhjUc2cW8HST87fHg-NKBw-LzRMOaowZmkAFBOmqiNVOHA

 

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Fall of the Wall

@ReveredOwl

 

Tremors of steel and grunts of doom,

Comets of death blot out the moon,

The war rages on and on,

As Walton rushes back to the fray,

Grizzled and full of pride,

He boards the fray at the prince's side.

 

The royal palace threatened and breached,

With the knight's aid, salvation is reached,

Aurum blade, Atilan's spare,

It saves the day with a thrust of care.

 

Horns of hope blaring in the night,

Reinforcements arrive on Vanhart's flight,

The demonguard too close to slay,

Claims the valiant knight's life away.

 

A final breath and a squelching fall,

The knight's death saw the end of the brawl,

Karosgrad stands till this day,

Honoring Walton's valor this way.

 

6an9Q-3D7_qNEi2yhM6S2Rc2kKZHezJ2s7K3tBgB_O0f5kami8G5q6fqM-EaLPfesdZ7MRykx5DwtVmkac6PuZFviO9ng0yRAnrz9Wght8yFKxh199ztzO2jWzwyLBfpuvikAByv_5rFE7RBKhjUc2cW8HST87fHg-NKBw-LzRMOaowZmkAFBOmqiNVOHA

Additional Poems

6an9Q-3D7_qNEi2yhM6S2Rc2kKZHezJ2s7K3tBgB_O0f5kami8G5q6fqM-EaLPfesdZ7MRykx5DwtVmkac6PuZFviO9ng0yRAnrz9Wght8yFKxh199ztzO2jWzwyLBfpuvikAByv_5rFE7RBKhjUc2cW8HST87fHg-NKBw-LzRMOaowZmkAFBOmqiNVOHA

 

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The Oracle

@sarahbarah

 

She surveyed the landscape with beady eyes

Determined to find where the darkness lies

Amidst the shadows of the night she could seem

The creatures that had been feared by many.

 

The monstrous beasts, the dragons and trolls,

The death and destruction they brought forth in their patrol

The mysterious person had been forewarned

And could envision what was to come the next morn.

 

She marched forwards, undeterred by the threat,

Provoked by the dangers, she did not forget

The doom that was to come, she could predict

For they were the one that could see all things untold.

 

The saints and angels all looked to her

For guidance and strength to defeat these monsters

And as she looked upon their plight

They saw a future, not of darkness, but light.

 

She saw the beast's terror, brought to an end

Their reign of terror at a welcoming bend.

No more would they bring chaos, death and dismay

But of peace and goodwill did she pray.

 

She spoke of a prophecy, of hope and renewal

Bright and the courageous, The sicky and the fool. 

The people looked to her for guidance

They trusted in her word, thoses she foresees.

 

6an9Q-3D7_qNEi2yhM6S2Rc2kKZHezJ2s7K3tBgB_O0f5kami8G5q6fqM-EaLPfesdZ7MRykx5DwtVmkac6PuZFviO9ng0yRAnrz9Wght8yFKxh199ztzO2jWzwyLBfpuvikAByv_5rFE7RBKhjUc2cW8HST87fHg-NKBw-LzRMOaowZmkAFBOmqiNVOHA

 

1oB0WfMfvdqr-aVr0e_vhdM6OEp6G92HJDRH2y2YEXAgMI0QtrsDsE78X9gEuvMBv899rlESisHWkJxBPNqGFlYGwS1AdoNA-5M_8nF4etPdC2i9X9WHL-89JxNHTq4wFpwq2KcIr0bC243iV0TPc8d7CLCfamF0IvQ393-uBjqF7gbjeCiD7btXtUUGaQ

To Monsters Unknown

 

To Monsters Unknown,

Where the myst'ry lies,

Hidden in the shadows,

Behind the dark skies.

Creatures, so strange,

Like nothing we've seen,

Roaming around in the night,

In places unseen.

 

Do they exist,

Or are they just a dream?

Are they figments of our imagination,

Or something in between?

We can only guess,

But one thing is sure,

That fear, it lingers,

When we hear their roar.

 

The tales are told,

In songs, stories and rhymes,

Of creatures of horror,

That traverse the night skies.

The slimy and slimier,

The fanged and the furred,

The lurkers and leapers,

The scaled and the blurred.

 

The ones that we know,

And the ones that we don't,

The ones that fly, and the ones that won't.

But what of those monsters,

That are still unknown?

The ones that haunt us,

No matter where we roam?

 

Are they real or just tales,

To scare us at night?

Are they just a dream,

Or a chilling sight?

We can never know,

But one thing is sure,

That fear, it lingers,

To monsters unknown.

 

6an9Q-3D7_qNEi2yhM6S2Rc2kKZHezJ2s7K3tBgB_O0f5kami8G5q6fqM-EaLPfesdZ7MRykx5DwtVmkac6PuZFviO9ng0yRAnrz9Wght8yFKxh199ztzO2jWzwyLBfpuvikAByv_5rFE7RBKhjUc2cW8HST87fHg-NKBw-LzRMOaowZmkAFBOmqiNVOHA

 

AJB6IOszPhikfiidUFngE8hrhpndbMo9JX_teP9-T4NEFAHpar_maxHaSIGit0z5wu5tGifwp-CJu3tC17_zj2Zdg0IauU8qiv28t-rKKwhrPENgaPyGaDHmv53AFZ1jdpeSBCt57akBmv4HhI_B3W_QF15nk1gQU10qstrA4XgLPFjHyJy7tE6yW_PFKA

Enemies Beware

 

Enemies Beware, of the strength I possess,

Lurking beneath my facade of gentleness.

Two eyes that glint with determination,

A heart that beats with resolution.

 

Fearsome and firm I stand,

My courage unyielding, able to withstand.

An aura of power surrounds me,

Ready to face any foe, without fear or trepidity.

 

I take a step forward, undaunted and brave,

My courage, a force that you can never enslave.

My spirit is strong, my will unbreakable,

My resolve, forever unshakable.

 

Enemies Beware, of the force I wield,

My strength is great, a force you cannot yield.

A warrior born from my inner core,

My courage and strength, something you cannot ignore.

 

My self-belief ever growing,

My courage ever flowing.

The fire in my heart, can never be tamed,

My determination, forever unchained.

 

Enemies Beware, of the power I possess,

My courage and strength, something you cannot repress.

My strength and courage, a force you cannot deny,

My determination, something you cannot defy.

 

My spirit is strong, my heart is brave,

My courage and strength, will never be enslaved.

I stand tall and proud, ready to face any foe,

My courage and strength, something you can never overthrow.

 

6an9Q-3D7_qNEi2yhM6S2Rc2kKZHezJ2s7K3tBgB_O0f5kami8G5q6fqM-EaLPfesdZ7MRykx5DwtVmkac6PuZFviO9ng0yRAnrz9Wght8yFKxh199ztzO2jWzwyLBfpuvikAByv_5rFE7RBKhjUc2cW8HST87fHg-NKBw-LzRMOaowZmkAFBOmqiNVOHA

 

IPISFMt2wSK5WVFcg-mt27dtGQ3HB_yvBbYw19fOQ_H_m2cV6YOTVw8zM4EZSPKoL8wHA4yii1cfXaBIu7mZxaNkldjfjr_rUjZyvWf-NzxPB0o59SNzeduP1ECnWm-WsZVBdZmGg1DjYpvfOK8LdJkDYjG9qireP5aOo82q3xg_6V8x1MoHL1a26ub3cw

A Peacekeeper

 

A swollen sky, star-spangled and vast.

Thoughts of peace, floating in the dusk air.

A glimmer of hope, holding no bounds.

Illuminating an ever-changing world.

 

A guardian, standing in the light,

Believing in the power to right wrongs.

A principled silhouette, steadfast and true.

Striving for peace, within and without.

 

Turbulent winds and a sky so grey,

Still they remain, while the world searches.

Leading us all through a changing night.

The calm confidence of a peacekeeper.

 

An ever-changing path that they take.

Holding the world up, through the dark,

Shielding us with their wisdom and care.

In times of struggle, we find solace.

 

Though storms may threaten, and days be tough.

The keeper's faith in a better tomorrow,

A resolute spirit, which never does falter.

Will be forever in our hearts, a peacekeeper.

 

6an9Q-3D7_qNEi2yhM6S2Rc2kKZHezJ2s7K3tBgB_O0f5kami8G5q6fqM-EaLPfesdZ7MRykx5DwtVmkac6PuZFviO9ng0yRAnrz9Wght8yFKxh199ztzO2jWzwyLBfpuvikAByv_5rFE7RBKhjUc2cW8HST87fHg-NKBw-LzRMOaowZmkAFBOmqiNVOHA

 

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Eye for an Eye

 

An eye, a glint, a twinkle twine,

A sight, a gaze, a captivating shine.

 

The power of the eye, all do know,

A baleful eye, the cause of woe.

 

A vestigial truth, an age-old curse,

Gives rise to a perspective perverse.

 

An eye for an eye, a tale oft-told,

A justice that's fair, yet so very cold.

 

A cycle of malice, a cycle of pain,

A cycle of vengeance, a cycle insane.

 

For full restitution, vengeance is sought,

Though harsh and extreme, is a fitting retort.

 

A lonely eye, a sorrowful stare,

A hateful view, a loathing glare.

 

The eye of the beholder, all do see,

Sees but its own, what it wishes, to be.

 

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Blood of a Warrior

 

Amidst the cacophony of swords 

And the ferocity of a solider’s roar,

The battlefield is divinely blessed 

With the blessing of a thousand more.

 

Puddles of warrior's blood soak the ground 

And drape the combatants in an eerie hue,

However, their spirit keeps them ever resolute,

Embracing the courage, passion and truth.

 

From the flames of a million slaughtered dreams, 

Their cunning is worn on their sleeve,

So the courage of a warrior is born 

From their will to never believe.

 

The blood of mankind is spilled, 

Drenched in courage, honor and might,

In the hearts of a million brothers-in-arms,

The spirit of a soldier has no plight.

 

The warrior's will is tested and unyielding, 

Sacred and unyielding in its fight,

A symbol of wit and faith, 

For the warriors of old to bear till the end of time.

 


SIGNED,

HIS LORDSHIP, Borris Iver Kortrevich, KML

Battle-Bard of the Brotherhood of Saint Karl, Knight-Bard of the Order of the Crow, and Court-Poet of Hanseti-Ruska.

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Yeah... some of these guys are making an appearance in the second book for sure!

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Atilan would read his poem and only give a small smile to the poem about his trial. He would continue to read the poems and seeing the one about the Wall, he would sigh regretable wishing he had done more that day. Finally after reading all the poems he would show the Poems to Isabel, reading them outloud so that his daughter in her mother's arms could hear her and say "Godan be... zhis Borris Iver Kortevich ist quite zhe writer indeed!"

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Alexandra would be holding the parchment that held her poem with a smile before lowering. "Ha ha, Ich cant read." The blind told herself.

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