The cult of Elite is known for it's Might The leader is Thunda What a mighty Wunda from down Unda The greatest known Slug he ain't no thug He is the greatest lord up there on the Board
sombra, shadow, darkness twisting spiral, inescapable agony Death's icy glare shrouded in darkness Death, final, peace
The times of doom, The face of gloom. To recieve the blood of a dragon, a pure phenomonem. To survive the passage is all skill, But the passage to kingdom, is all goodwill.
To swim into the great ocean To chart the tides to unknown lands I want to learn to fly away, To touch some distant sands. But nature has the better of me It isn't armour that floats Well be stuck here on this land Until we build some boats! My patron saint is Iana the healer of our land You should see the way I come to her, And she just waves her hand. Ping! Kerwow! and other effects, are simply not required for instant healing she's the one, Her touch is just inspired.
Good citizens of Sanom, it's time that I complain, This little, tiny problem, I call the Dragon's Bane; It seems each time I spend my breath on frying measly knights, It never seems to work for me; it's really quite a fright. What if one should draw his sword and try to end my life? It might be quite a problem then to try to dodge his knife; And even if my luck held fast, and I should kill the warrior, His cult would soon be after me, and battle would be gorier. My troubles seem to add and add, and times are truly rough, When ever fire I try to breath, that's all I get: a puff; Oh well, one day I'll be much mightier, and fearful of not one, And in that fateful hour, my whining will be done.
I ask why I must always be so sad, It always tends to make me sigh When I think of all the things I had. I am reminded of that other young lad, When he left he just waved and said "bye", I ask why I must always be so sad. And remember the criminal who was so bad, They threw him out the window, to see, could he fly? When I think of all the things I had. Oh, I remember what made me mad, When I took those things that were never mine, I ask why I must always be so sad. I sometimes wish I had once seen my dad, But before I was born he did die, When I think of all the things I had. I wrote my name for the last time on the notepad, I looked from the top of the tree - so high. I ask why I must always be so sad, When I think of all the things I once had.
Old King Cold Was a merry old soul, And a merry old soul was he He called for his huge black great axe, And he called for his mithril plate armor, And he called for his alternates three. Every alternate, He had a halberd, And a very fine halberd had he Hack hack main and kill, hack and kill,* went the alternates. Oh, there's none so rare As can compare With old King Cold and his alternates three. * To quote the great prophet Zarquon. - Loocus the Thinker
OUR WORLD, SHATTERED WORLD -a poem by Bilbo Shattered World in we live, Is a great place to give, Our help to people of all races, But also to move above them with the help of maces. This is a real world, A real place to play, Not a mold, On our day. Our world, Shattered World, Has lots to say, May it reach its height, Today and every day. People young and old come online, To show what they have made. No matter it be Dredd or Jenna, Or Dod or Wrack, They have create a place to play. It doesn't matter if they can maim or stone you, Kill or dismember you, Shattered world is a place to stay, From night to day. This is our world, Our Shattered World I say, Appreciate it without delay. -Bilbo
Among twenty snowy mountains, on the horizon north-north-east of Sanom, The only moving thing Was the eye of the roc. I was of three minds, Like a roc perch In which there are three rocs. The roc whirled in the autumn winds. It was a small part of the pantomime. A knight and a siren Are one. A knight and a siren and a roc Are one. I do not know which to prefer, The beauty of inflections Or the beauty of innuendoes, The roc screeching Or just after. Icicles filled the long window With barbaric glass. The shadow of the roc Corssed it, to and fro. The mood Traced in the shadow And indecipherable cause. O thin men of Galwind, Why do you imagine golden birds? Do you not see how the roc Walks around the feet Of the women about you? I know noble accents And lucid, inescapable rhythms, But I know, too, That the roc in involved In what I know. When the roc betweened out of sight, It marked the edge Of one of many circles. At the sight of rocs Flying in a green light, Even the bawds of cuphony Would cry out shaply. He rode over A Fields, Away West of Sanom In a glass coach Once, a fear pierced him, In that he mistook The shadow of his equipage For rocs. The Elvara River is moving. The roc must be flying. It was evening all afternoon. It was snowing And it was going to snow. The roc sat In the cedar-limbs.
Tonka's Day by Tonka [with an introduction by Stephen King] --------- Intro --------- Few things scare me anymore. Something about writing a few dozen best-selling stories of horror and mayhem take the edge off, I guess. The point is, it's hard for a King of horror -- pun intended (and frighteningly so) -- to get spooked much. That's why this story for which I am writing an introduction is so special to me. It is not, Faithful Reader, the sort of story you've probably come to expect. It is a subtle, insidious tale; it will crawl under your skin and make a nest, lay some eggs. It will take it's time. It will wait. Or maybe that was the arch-demon I summoned a couple weeks ago. Regardless, enjoy the verbal feast that is Tonka's Day. - Boulder, Colorado, September 7, 1983 --------- Tonka's Day See Tonka Tonka is a Draconian He is tall He is tough He can ROAR! Tonka no like rats See rat? Tonka see rat Tonka CHASE rat Run rat run See rat run! Tonka catch rat Tonka swing axe Rat die See rat head! Roll head roll! Tonka hungry Tonka eat hamburger Hamburger is greasy But Tonka LIKE grease! Chew chew chew See Tonka chew Mmmmmmmmmm Tonka sees Jane Jane is very small Tonka like Jane Tonka roar hello "HELLO JANE!" Tonka tired now Tonka see chair Tonka sit Tonka break chair! OH NO! Tonka is sad But wait! Tonka chop wood Tonka make new chair TONKA HAPPY AGAIN! THE END OR IS IT????!!?! Yes Is end Tonka just kidding you!
Amid the slowly stretching shadows of sun-set sorrow, among the primeval hillsides, ancient buried roads, and long grass billowing in the tropic breeze lie the Ruins of the Golden City, age-old citadels of the Ancient Learning. They stand now, not as they once stood proud and towering fountains of knowledge reaching out in ever-widening arcs glowing bright in the sun-light at the height of hope but as darkened crumbling forms, a shadow of their former selves just fragments of an ancient beauty. Now the sky above is a dead grey, and the blood-red light of the fading sun pours over the land and washes the scarred stone walls highlighting cracks in the darkness of time. The path to the city is overgrown, tall patches of grass interceding among scattered flattened stones. Within forty feet of the crumbling gate arch are many large boulders flung about haphazardly in the dying fields. These boulders lie alienated, the final remnants of the great outer wall, crumbled and thrown outward as if from some great pressure within its bounds. And still the gate arch stands, framing the sun's dying rays, a picture path to Hell cut straight due west on a ruined road.
The pummeled beaten forms stand in chaos on the field. All in different uniforms, Coats of yellow, orange, and red. And others lie here too. The darkened brown, the envious green, The royal and proud blue. All are dying, all are chipping at the skin. And beneath them all a darkened hue Emerges from the smoking scarred remains. A core of darkness caught in chains Of countries, It has turned the tables and now holds the reigns. They stand now, indignant and individual. Soon they will meld together in the dark abyss.
Death is everywhere. Death is behind you. Death is in front of you. Death is beside you. Death is far from you. Death is strong in some, and therefore they are strong. Death is nonexistent in some, and therefore they are weak. Those that fear Death face Him. Those that face Death, meet Him eye-to-eye. Those that meet Death eye-to-eye cannot explain the horror they see. For they are now part of Death. Those that follow Death see their master's power. Master Death is all-powerful. Master Death is all knowing. He sees you when you are sleeping and he knows when you are awake. Fear Master Death for He is the only one to fear. The disciples of Death contain the unlimited power of their master. These disciples of Death are to be feared. These disciples of Death shall rise and rein terror on these shattered worlds. These disciples of Death are few but powerful. Fear these disciples as you fear Death. For Death is all-powerful. For Death is all knowing. Those that do not heed my words shall learn. Those that do not take note of my words shall pay. Those that do not observe their surroundings shall have Death strike down on them. For Death is everywhere. For Death is behind the corner of Life. For Death is omnipotent.
Newbie Haiku Step from the dungeon A new body you now have Adventure begins
A Girl ------ For the past year, I befriended a girl A good friend she was always. As time grew on, our relationship did as well, I knew it was more than a phase. The year went by, the summer passed, I saw her in a different light. Everything changed, but in a positive sense, My entire life switched from wrong to right. I look at her now, and all I can see, Is her long, flowing, golden hair. Those light blue eyes, that capture my soul, The way she enthralls me simply isn't fair. Not only is she beautiful, she's also so smart, It seems that nothing - no subject - falls beyond her reach. She can talk at great length, about anything at all, For her to have reciprocate my feelings is what I beseech. There's one thing left, one thing to ask her, To ask if we we could spend time together. I find it a risk, perhaps one I can't take, But I know I must, it has become my sole endeavor. To tell the truth, it doesn't matter what she says, I just want to know that she actually cares. Some feelings and some time are all I ask, Who knows? Perhaps one day we'll make a pair. -Anonymous
A new sun's dawn finds an old notched sword Glinting in the traveler's eye His trusty old wolf scouts the land ahead And is suddenly suprised A large brown bear brings his great paw down And crushes the poor traveler's friend A cry of anguish is heard across the lands And the traveler then gets his revenge
The Ohmu. Oh so hard to find. Taxing your nostrils, wits and mind. Giving you much, so much pain And taking all your time
If boredom strikes and fun is what you seek, Do come to Shattered World and fortunes make. At first, you'll find yourself so very weak A sneaky thief your good things may well take. Immortals reign here on high! From there they see All your weakest moments and your strengths, This land of dangers' challenges you need, And 'tis for you they go to great lengths. You'll meet the gracious queen whose name is Shriek And find with fairness and firm hand she rules. So much to leanr. Quests never make you weak. You must apply yourself. Don;t be a fool. To Shattered World do come and make your day! A place where you can work and you can play!
*** Shall I compare you to that summer's day, When first we met with me afraid to say? 'Twas high upon a mountain top, near nest. The perfect place we chose to take a rest. I thought of only you with face so fair It took away my breath and thinned the air. But beauty only would not ever do So you were thoughtful, kind 'tis true. You fed this knight a picnic far more than just a feast And your hands now hold the heart of this once lonely beast.
Cormoran, Greebo and Trax, For us their brains they do tax. Coming here every day, They work hard, then they play. And those are the Dredd-ful facts! Sometimes they take heat. That's a crime! I must finish this while I have time. I'm sure I have left out another few. There's Morpi plus, oh one or two, But can you make Belgarion rhyme?
Ode to Octcella Oh fair one, with legs so fine... I can't really tell if there's eight or nine.. She's dangerous, so better watch out. for when you type.. no one hears you shout. yeah, she's great.. a real winner.. i hope she doesn't have ME for dinner. I love Octcella, she's the best... as I hang here, stuck.. within her nest. She's coming home soon, and I'll be here... oh no... here she is.. I ..... AAAAAAAAAARGH!!!
Great peace have they who love the law And heed its rigid code Alas, this peace is not for me I pick my targets...one, two, three And proceed to rob them all Great pain have they who hate the law And hide and sneak to survive Alas, this pain is surely mine So Ill proceed to Merenth for a time And proceed to rob them all
And though, for now, we must be glum On the horizon we must search and find Our house of smiles once more. Soon, we must relearn To laugh and dance and sing In the brightness of our spirits. For we cannot wait for life to happen But to reach out And bring the sun into our hearts once more.
I stumbled into trouble I stumbled into trouble, as I so often do The 'poop' had really hit the fan And splattered all over too My brains were splattered (like the poop) By the meanest troll around My corpse was trampled by a whole orc troupe Into the blood-soaked ground Soon after a traveler happened on my corpse, "Lucky me!", he cheered gleefully, As he took my armour, my weapon, my ring, And threw my body into the sea So once again, I got "regened", And set out to regain what was lost But all was gone except for one thing... The troll who was still quite cross!
How suddenly fragile our survival appears as our mews and growls become our mantra. Rumbles of the unknown signal chaos which imprints our brains. The unthinkable is upon us! Always-open, deep wounds flow that cannot be healed -- possibly for eternity.
A poem for all the lonely thiefs out there: Of late it's harder just to go outside, to leave this wealth with hatred so alive, writhing with sickness, thrown into realility, I decay, killed by the weakness, but forced to return, Out there so quickly grows malignant tribes (Knights), posthuman extinction excels unrecognized, feeling surrounded, so bored with mortality, I decay It will be all right despite what they say
There once was a player called Ug they said he was a bit of a slug he caused great despair with Imms here and there and now they call him Bug Ug.
Forests with trees with silver bark Rainbows curving in graceful arcs Pixies sprinkling fairy dust and sorcerers telling fate And here comes the unicorn on cue never late Diamond-hard hooves, striking stone Ringing with clear, bell-like tones Shimmering mane, caught high in the air Never tamed is this creature fair
There once was a mephit of flame, Who's way was just simply too game, Bravity is death, he'd learn nonetheless, Not softly but learn all the same. The mephit looked west and ran east, Unsure but not caring the least, In forests are trolls, they travel in droves, To them he is but a small feast. So few lives the mephit did keep, Corpses made by his stumbling feet, And now upon death, that mephit has said, A newbie should look and not leap.
An orc killed me dead How now do I find what's lost? Shattered, I rebuild
Beware of the gates of sanom city. For creatures from outside can be there. It would be a shame for fine people like you and me. To run into a troll and die. -Niharia
File last modified: Mon Oct 16 15:27:36 2006