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We Will Be Your Bards For The Evening

Tags: #TSC Event 
  • Member
    December 3, 2016

    My turn again I think......



    Walked through the gate

    Around quarter past eight

    To see a blacksmith working.


     On a wheel with a bar of steel,

    To which she was grinding.

    A sword that shone so bright.

    My eyes, the blade was blinding…


    A mightily blade the damsel said

    “Could you take it to my father?”

    “He works in Dragonsreach,

    Walk past the temple and further”.


    Along the path I trod and tread

    To pass an empty house.

    Not a soul lived inside,

    No Skeever or a mouse.


    I came across a market

    With meats and fruit they sell.

    My eye on the fruit seller,

    I nearly fell into the well….


    Stepping inside the trade store,

    To disappear from the street.

    “Everything’s for sale”

    A strange man said.

    “My prices can’t be beat”.


    I then entered an herbalist’s shop

    Or ‘Alchemy’ I should say.

    “I’ve a potion to cure that”.

    Unaware of any deception, gold to Arcadia I pay...


    Now disease fee am I

    I head to the Inn.

    The maids asked for ten gold,

    To commit cardinal sin.


    Heading up a flight of stairs,

    A Temple to my left.

    “The tree is dead, a crying shame”.

    Said the priestess of Kynareth.


    To my right an upturned boat

    Used as a roof no doubt.

    A fight with fists and fearsome cries.

    I heard the Companions shout.


    “Hold your ground”. One man said,

    I think his side was beaten.

    He cursed and pushed the poor sod back,

    Despite him being blooden


    The Huntress seemed far happier,

    Her side was winning sure.

    Although the member’s face

    Needed more than a simple cure.


    Heading out lest I get involved,

     In a matter of what? Pride?

    I climbed and climbed some mighty steps

    In my search for somewhere to hide.


    I ended up in Dragonsreach,

    The home of the Jarl.

    “Jarl Balgruuf’s my name.

    From whence do you came?”


    He asked with me, a simple mer.

    “You look like you could help”.

    “Where that mage? Fareng’r?”

    "The poxy little Whelp".


    So I’m now off to a Barrow.

    Bleak I think they said.

    It’s full of draugr and monsters.

    I've to face the walking undead….


    With a sword and shield, and my trusty bow,

    Arrows in my quiver.

    I ascend the mountains, cold

    My nerves, they start to shiver!



  • Member
    December 3, 2016

    There's been many good poems today, I see :D Nice, love that. Sotek you're on a role mate!

    Karver, what a great surprise to see you take part! Less surprised by your skill, though. I have read your literature, always poetic :)

    Kaiser, that was great!


  • Member
    December 3, 2016

    My Lady, whose mantle is starlight

    Whose crown is the Secunda moon

    May your spirit warm me on the coldest night

    And your presence illuminate the gloom.


    My Lady, whose robes are the firmament's field

    Whose voice is the celestial chord

    May your courage lend strength to my shield

    And your might inspire my sword.


    My Lady, whose eyes are an empyreal veil

    Whose feet tread the moonbeams of dream

    May your love protect me like shimmering mail

    And my soul rally to your crystalline theme.


    My Lady, whose impeccable touch shapes the Tower

    Whose splendid hands hold the soul-infused Stone

    May your vision lend my spells their power

    And guide me when I'm lost and alone.

  • Member
    December 3, 2016

    Are there no eyes to see the warning?

    Are there no ears to hear what's sung?

    Is this the celestial mourning?

    The Wizard's incantation takes not to his tongue.


    The heavens belong now to the Snake

    The song has become a Misruled refrain

    The Thief has found a lock he cannot break

    The Eight favor the only righteous, but too few of you remain.


    The Warrior finds a foe that cannot fall

    The Guardians have been cast down

    Oblivion's darkness hangs like a pall

    The land weeps from the loss of its crown.


    The Interplay is one flea of assertion on a wolf of naught

    It is by these heresies that you fall from grace

    Where now are those of magnificent thought?

    Prepare for Destruction's embrace.


    The gate, once open, cares not who passeth through

    Is there anyone left who can repair the song?

    I looked on as the roosting birds flew

    You looked away when the fires flickered, and now act lost that they are gone!

  • December 3, 2016

    Ah, I see that someone´s balls deep in Firmament now. Shall we get a slooty Mage? :)

  • Member
    December 3, 2016

    I have a burning passion which cannot be quenched

    And need a beautiful sage

    Balls deep in the stars like a wench

    I'd be to the hilt in a slooty mage!

  • December 3, 2016

    xD xD xD

  • Member
    December 3, 2016


    I will think something up

  • December 3, 2016

    More poems! Wish I had a gift for it. I don't Takes me forever to write the ditty I wrote. 

  • Member
    December 3, 2016

    Mirric said:


    I will think something up


    Please do, Scamp :)


    Lissette Long-Chapper said:

    More poems! Wish I had a gift for it. I don't Takes me forever to write the ditty I wrote. 


    You don't think you have a gift for poetry? What is a poem, Lis?

    a piece of writing in which the expression of feelings and ideas is given intensity by particular attention to diction (sometimes involving rhyme), rhythm, and imagery.

    There are many forms of poetry, I a not trained in any and don't understand the complexities and terminologies. But I do know that I favour basic rhyme which is sometimes clumsy as fuck. But when I read passages of Straag, or pieces from Chasing Aetherius, it is for me exactly like poetry.

    “I heard a noise as I cursed that monster on the road. So small. So weak. As a baby crying. At first, I thought it was a baby, for babies often mew.  But when I approached the side of the road where the mother lay, I saw tracks. Her tracks.”...“She was wounded, bleeding, dying, but she carried one to safety. I followed her trail of blood. One. She carried one."

    If that does not fit the definition of poetry then tell me what does? Your poems are far more complex than mine, the rythym is hidden at the end of a chapter, or in the descriptions of an emotional moment. Your writing style changes as it captures that emotion and your words become poetic in tone.

    Never doubt that not only do you have a gift for it, you do it regularly and unconsciously, without effort and done under Vivec's Fire. 


    Here's a little something between Albee and Serana:



    Those days of far-gone glory


    When our bannner on high first flew


    Fluttering, a celestial story


    Memories from the deep blue.




    Time is like a mist for me


    Tendrils of fog to grasp


    Images, shapes, glimpses of thee


    A cloak I try to clasp.




    The firmament was our home


    In that time of freedom's yearn


    The effluvium of amnesia's foam


    Which even now I can almost discern.




    I wear you like my armour


    You keep me focussed, safe


    Forever, Mor-Serana


    You are the keeper of my faith.




    Your skin, like flawless ivory


    Your hair of the heaven's void


    As pure as marble in a priory


    I am overcome with joy.




    The foosteps of chapters penned


    So very long ago


    Echo still in the tapestry's wend


    Like splashes in a river's flow.




    One by one I count the days


    When we are apart


    They melt into a foggy haze

    But you are always in my heart.