Author's Note: After a long period of drifting across forums and such, I have finally decided to – shall we say- give back to the community. While I in no way attest to the prowess possessed by this work, I trust that it shall suffice as a tribute of sorts. Enjoy this work set in the Elder Scrolls world- which I clearly do not own, else I would not be on, would I?
I contemplated making a note of what this work is precisely supposed to be about (Skyrim, obviously!), but I decided that thou should know what exactly it is by the time you have finished reading. That's the fun, isn't it? Trying to decipher what is going on?
Snows of Scarlet Hue: A Poem
Part I:
Within, the Cloaks of Storm did hear
That which proved to be the instrument of their fear
Outside, Cloth Dragons did laugh
As their wooden wyrm did carve a path
Primeval gates shuddered at the blow
Only to open at last…the herald of the scarlet snow
Part II:
Crimson and Azure did battle
As the new generation was felled like cattle
Arrows whispered their final lament
As towards young men they made their final descent
Great, howling storms of swords clashed
While flesh it was they lashed
At sunset, rock flied across the orange sky
As destructive above, as below were the magi
Part III
Far away stood generals, none with empathy
Yet filled with enough apathy
To send waves of boys in search of costly glory
To trek through remains far too gory
To tell whom was once a friend
Before meeting their forlorn end
Part IV:
Outside, the wounded cried, "Why have thou forsaken me, Divines?"
While priests of times lost chide, "Is it not Sovngarde at which thou wished to dine?"
Locked away, a feral bear stood guard
Over another bear- this one of stone- an inspiration for many a bard
A victim to tragedy and threnody
As he sought to be a remedy
To the nation of which he hailed
Only- as he realized- to have finally failed
There they wait
For the one who shall release them of this fate-
To forever hold blame
For all of the souls whom they have given to the flames
Part V:
By dawn, it is over
With the Cloth Dragon acting as a lowly drover
To the broken survivors
As well as the priests and revivers
Of the revered Hero God-
Who shall never again be awed
The twin bears lie fallen, comrades in death
Who fought a mighty wyrm until their final breath
In the midst of the carnage, stands one man
One who merely watched as the blood ran
One who is indeed a Dragon true
And, likewise, is a value
To the Empire for which he went forth
Dovahkiin, Ysmir, the Dragon of the North,
Whose breath is long winter
And is such a man that carnage follows hinter
Final Tribulation:
To those who knew his Thu'um,
As ahead of foghorns it did boom
He is no hero,
But a bane to men,
And a champion to crows,
And whose only lament was, "Once Jarls fall and rebellions are crushed, what then?"
Closing Notes: And there you have it. Here, you have my very first contribution to this site. Please, do not hold back on the criticism. Be as terribly critical as you can be! Criticize me for my shoddy poetry skills! Make me squirm beneath the weight of the scrutiny! Ah, but also do me a favor, will thou? Please, be a lad/lass and check something out for a friend of mine. Kalathon the Comical's forum, "The Adventure Has Only Begun," is in need of some new members. If thou wishes to RP in an endless story filled with great writers, do give it a look. Ooh, and look me up to on there! We can share a strawberry tart! Ta ta!
