This was written after reading parts of the Canterbury tales in English class. We were asked to create 5 new characters and a narrator as well and create our own preface.
I hope you enjoy, please review:
The frigid bite of the wind constantly reminds you that winter is here in full,
Undisturbed snow shielded in ice lays in lull.
The monks realize that there are no more gardens to tend,
Their broken hearts yearn for spring to mend.
Those of this town prove to be the early bird,
Eager, they herd to the cathedral for the word.
The tavern ironically finds origin as a neighbor to the church,
Separated by a tree line of barren birch.
Many of the patrons lay strewn about,
Probably due to that of the brew being extra stout.
I began to trudge forward through the thick of snow,
Down to the valley below.
A mission, an objective that I've agreed to Guide,
A level of punctuality I must abide.
Five fervent adventurers standing aligned,
Approaching I state, "My name is Roland." just to remind.
Craving the voyage my hearts desire full,
Regardless that I know this will certainly take its toll.
An epic expedition would prove uncouth,
Unless of course it was an adventure in search of the fountain of youth.
Onward to the lands untold,
Only this party could be so bold.
Although it will be difficult and hard,
At least we have the company of Hestia, The Bard
Her name from that of a goddess,
Her beauty proved her nothing less.
Her origin stems from the world inclined to thieve,
A world she decided to leave.
For her forte is not that to steal but to alleviate,
Her voice you yearn to reverberate.
Soothing the mind with a simple melody,
A voice you could never learn or study.
Innate perfection a gift from her deity,
Her voice too good for any society.
Her hair flowing and flicking at the windy town,
Hair shining against the white an earthy brown.
Her lute she gently strummed,
And she hummed.
A combination perfectly co-in siding,
This bard is most certainly a wonderful finding.
Her expression so unnecessarily humble,
The rest of the towns' insecurities surface as they mumble.
To think her last performance was that for a handful of Lounge Lizards,
A certain chord struck the attention of that of Rariel's The Wizard's.
His expression as lifeless as his skin,
His affection something that not a soul on Earth would ever win.
Bearing his cane close to his side,
Helping along in every stride.
A crimson cloak reaching from his shoulders to his feet,
It gently drug upon the street.
As easy as breathing this wizard can conjure,
Angering this warlock will prove your greatest blunder.
His tone aristocratic as he basked in his own arrogance,
Claiming that not one man could out smart him not even by circumstance.
Pontificating to everyone his own theory,
Making everyone else quite leery.
Being the sole patron to his own research,
On the pedestal he created he eagerly decides to perch.
His hands move gracefully,
The only thing he can say he's done masterfully.
Fabricating entity from the void of nonentity,
He was a skilled wizard that however was a reality.
A turquoise splash fabricated from anger,
That without question raised apprehension in Tenar, The Ranger.
His tunic draped in the colors of the Earth,
Something he's learned to cherish since birth.
Realizing that the disturbance on his arm is a flea,
The noble ranger gently lets it be.
His dispositions orbit on that of the dirt he walks on,
Believing that Mother Nature her self has picked him to call upon.
His love and sentimentalism of the animals that fend for him,
Makes the chances of finding a soul like him fairly grim.
His skills that of a warden,
So familiar with the area he can show you every nest every den.
Quick to accuse those that would seemingly unhesitant take for granted,
Something that he has on many occasions he has ranted.
Claims himself natures hope,
Letting everyone know its on the downward slope.
His voice calm and relaxing to hear,
Something the animals wouldn't fear.
His forest colored cloak complimented his boots,
Worn leather boots a traveler such as he perfectly suites.
Grasping a handful of dirt and rubbing between his hands,
Quizzical Adell, The Rouge stands.
Her eyes piercing and devious,
Engulfing and mischievous.
Holding dominion over the hearts over countless lads,
Not realizing underneath resides countless bads.
Her hair complimented the blackness of her heart,
Something that you wouldn't test if you were smart.
Hails respects Hermes God of thieves and trickery,
Devout in her belief of thievery.
Slender and stunning she stands,
As she calmly brushes a dirk across her hands.
Charisma through beauty her smile speaks volumes,
That she would willingly put anyone in their eternal tombs.
Her outfit lacking in imagination,
Leaving many in admiration.
A cloak was her only warmth, other than her already ice like soul,
Which left her warmer than burning coal.
Her abilities unquestionable and professional,
Stealing was what she did her skills left it non-confrontational.
Victims walk off oblivious and about one coin purse lighter,
You wouldn't' even know it happened to even fight her.
She was Rouge at heart a bandit a thief she would never pass up an opportunity,
To her appreciation Orion, The Paladin had his coin purse open for extreme scrutiny.
The Paladin's fresh from a campaign with Charlemagne,
So much bloodshed only being devout could keep him sane.
A warrior of almost pristine loyalty,
To that of his esteemed royalty.
Although his chivalry was boundless,
Love for his God took priority he would confess.
Rigid rings drape his chest clinking,
One could easily tell it ring mail distinctly.
Knighthood procured by his unquestioned valor in combat,
On his mount of nobility he sat.
Being the most respected in all the town,
Being as humble as he, he could only frown.
His jaw chiseled in genuine handsomeness,
Yet his eyes swelled with innate thoughtfulness.
Dreaming of home and his family,
Yet his duty as knight made him dismiss it cordially.
The scars that decorate his arms and hands give value to him as a soldier,
Many battles he has fought as the kings most recognized warrior.
Plagued by those he kills for king and country,
Sickened by his own duty he finds a mystery.
Eager for the adventure to get back on track,
"The name is Orion, lets get moving." He responds back.
Roland nodded to Orion in acknowledgment,
A town as desolate and minute as this one is something no one would lament.
Hestia's melodies filled their ears,
Washing away all their fears.
Rariel's doctrines of knowledge and magic fell upon deaf air,
Not another word a person could bear.
Tenar fed a crow that made his shoulder a roost,
The bird satisfied takes flight with help from a Tenar's boost.
Adell greedily gently caresses her new loot,
Only a few coins would not suite.
Orion's prayer a loud and resounding plea,
"May danger not find us and let us be!"
As they trudged on as a determined yet dysfunctional guild,
Perhaps throughout this adventure a friendship, a covenant will build.
Through every step, smile, tear, and breath,
Perhaps they will become willing to save each other from death.