The Bard's Song - Prologue
And with a strum of string
His words took sudden wing.
"I speak of a tale,
That breathes without fail,
The moral values that man finds true.
And now, I commence, without further ado."
A soft picking upon the fragile mandolin
Brought lilting notes to the mind within.
And the soft voice of the light-singing Bard
Pierced like a knife, so wicked and hard.
"This story of two empires
With souls made of fires
From the deepest of Hell
That neither knew well.
The men who follow the blind
Honorable oaths that bind
A man to his kingdom.
Never to know the pleasure of freedom."
One final strum and the picking began
"And now through the eyes of a simple man
I tell you a tale of honor at best.
In my words you shall find no jest."
The Bard's Song
Deep in a fading fantasy,
A silver song, a dying decree
Made by an aged king among men
On his deathbed to his son, Tyrwen,
Prince of Blythe. Born of King,
Taken under father's wing.
Pale lids closed upon former pools of gray,
And lips became cold, a shade not so gay.
'Settle the war, my dearest son.
Do not stop 'til the battle's won.
I haven't the strength to keep
Fighting for victory's reap.
Please, take command.
Take your graceful hand,
And lead your kingdom to the sun.
I beg, fight until the battle's won.'
The words resounded softly
And cool, long after the king loft'ly
Passed into the other world.
And without a word, it was unfurled;
A bitterness for the world so unreal,
The son no longer could feel
The line'd been crossed,
The ribbon's unity lost.
And with a great anguish,
He rose from his knees without languish,
And released an uproarus wail
Like the most vicious of gail
Mother Earth could muster
And curses flew like tactless clusters.
"Damn you to Hell, forsaken war!
I swear by God's name I'll settle the score!
Blythe shall make Piroget kneel and cower!
And the hapless fools shall know my power!
I'll crush their bodies and tear their souls!
Because it's for them that Fate's bell tolls!
And with this utterance, he left his father's bed
To gather an army and insure blood was shed.
And in Piroget, miles opposite of Blythe
Sat yet another prince, of looks quite lithe.
Fair hair falling over his angst-ridden eyes,
Full of sorrow and sadness from all the good-byes.
A cold, bitter grimace sat etched in his stone,
Yet he daren't say a word, or even release a moan.
Dark times had befallen the poor kingdom of Piroget,
As with them, too, had problems been set.
An illness returned and took from the land
Their loving king, cutting life's thin strand.
"My people are dying," he said to his
Ears, muttering softly, "It can't be, but is.
Our world is in peril, this anti-delight.
The endless blood-shed and horrible fight
Cannot continue if all wish to stand tall,
I must be the victor, it's unnacceptable to fall."
He shifted quietly on his throne, staring forever
Into the void, in search of answers wherever.
"How can I keep my people alive? Is there
Any sort of release from this nightmare?
I can't sit back and watch my people die
From famine and war. The children that cry
Need to be silenced with the music of peace.
All this brutality and anger simply must cease!
Why does Blythe continue this futile war!?
Why must staying alive be an arduous chore?!
I won't stand to see my people slaughtered like sheep!"
And he, too, left. And all-out war did creep.
Tyrwen stood atop vantage point looking
Down upon his entire kingdom and speaking
From the very bottom of his soul, he decreed,
"People of Blythe! Hear my call! If you wish to survive,
Then Piroget must fall! They will not leave you alive,
There shall be no peace! They have taken our king
In a swipe of a blade! And in return, it's death we shall bring!
Our precious leader is gone and I am in place,
I will not fail you, my people, in bitter disgrace!
We must rally together for the righteous cause
That we seek! Vanquish our enemies, flaws
We shall meek! All Hell will break loose!
Why run? Can you escape? What's the use?!
Let us stand tall, my battered people! Let
Us fight back against those that oppress! Whet
Your blades and gather thy armor! Ready
Thy horse, for tonight we make a steady
Journey to their hill and the 'morrow will
Bring us closer to our slaughter...our kill!"
"My loyal people!" Gelven cried,
"As you well know, our king is gone!
But, so is our Piroget if the battle is not won!
I ask you from the deepest of hearts
That you defend your home with skillfull arts
Of swordsmen and arches and riders alike
To rally together and prepare for a strike!
I feel the presence of an evil becoming
Stronger in the world, and eventually numbing
The lives of all who dwell deep in this place
Because we will deny death's bitter embrace!"
Blythe and Piroget gathered and gathered,
Weapons to ears and in armor they slathered
Themselves until they were set to the brim
For upcoming battle. Faces were grim
And smiles had fled and been replaced
By unfriendly grimaces. With a great haste
The men stood at the gates and marched
Towards the battliefield between, wicked and parched.
Step by step, each one they took, brought
Them closer to the final battle they fought.
Brands in hand and shields on arm,
And faces displayed, with lack of alarm,
A look of sheer potency, a grimace
Of absolute inured toughness, to strike
Fear into the hearts of their foes. Pike
In hand, a young man spoke, "There is
Our enemy, sir!" Tyrwen lowered his
Vision as he would to strike fear,
And quickly said, "It's all too clear,
My young boy. The battle ends here.
It is here on this land, this solemn fronteir,
Where we shall drive deep the thorns
Into the sides of those that plagued. Horns
Of Lucifer will impale their souls on stakes
And their infernal bodies will seethe with aches
Wrought from the deepest and darkest of Hells.
It is with our hands they'll feel pain all too well!
My men! We stand tall on this field to fight!
Victory is nearing, so close. Holy and bright!"
With a single word, 'Halt!' Blythe's men stopped
In mid-march. Senses were heightened, none dropped
A noise to the air. Wind went silent through
The barren wasteland, and then picked up as if on cue.
"The wind's coming in," Gelwan muttered
To his ears as he usually did. Not a word was uttered
By any man who stood, but all halted
As if they were waiting to be assaulted
By their brothers in battle who stood
On the other side, their anti-good.
Gelwan released a yell, "Piroget!
The time is now, the future's set!
Nature knows that this is true!
A storm is coming unto you!
Pray that God is on our side
For Fate's foretelling we must abide
By her humble word and soothing voice;
We've reached this far, we have no choice!
Draw thy swords and ready thy steeds!
For now is the time where we fulfill our needs!"
And so it began, a light-hearted drizzle
As emotions ran high and blood did fizzle
Under their skin in anticipation
For battle between these wondrous nations
Would soon commence in a storm
Of swords so valiant, a form
So true to beauty it can't be denied.
Fate and God here, can't be defied.
The sky broke loose and out came
The ocean, seeking glorious fame
In the heat of the moment, lightning broke
Free from its reigns, it struck in smoke
And scorched the field. Thunder followed,
And all men gasped and swallowed.
It was beckoning, the time was too near.
Hardened visages became too clear.
And then there was silence....
Followed by an outbreak of violence.
Fury had come in the blink of an eye,
As Nature and God looked down at men die
On the lonely battlefield below
And spirit set the plains aglow
With hardened wills and iron swords,
They clash and blood pours in the hordes
While the rage fills the air and makes it thick
Then the blood goes to work, causing a stick
To the ground and a wretched aroma
Rises and fills hearts with disgust and awe.
Swords clashed, sparks flew and lives were taken all too quick.
The battle raged and made ones sick
To see their friends and brothers fallen
Before their very eyes, lives were stolen.
Horses fell dead as did their masters
Who could forsee such distaster
In a battle where only peace was to be gained?
But instead, only hatred and angst reigned.
Then it happened, the two had met.
Gelwan and Tyrwen faced, cold sweat
Dripping from their visages, breathing hard
and staring viciously, holding the card
They'd each been dealt. "It ends here and
Now," they uttered in unison, each with a hand
Holding the hilt of a blade. Shields cocked upright
Readying for a fight, the final charge took flight.
They met inbetween and they crossed their blades,
Hair fell over their faces changing their shades
Of violence and anger and turned them to smiles
"So this is how it's going to end, Gelwan? The end of our trials?"
Tyrwen grimaced harshly and forced himself forward.
In defiance, Gelwan pushed, "I'll send your body shoreward!"
Breaking the holds, the each backed away
"This is your end, much to your dismay!"
They roared once more and charged to end
The bitter battle with a final Godsend
Plea to finish what had already begun
So that lives could be saved and all could be won.
But, then an eerie thing occurred.
The sweet, soft, lilting melody of a newflight bird.
Where were the cries of battle and war?
They had been killed with the fight they adore.
So many lay dead, wounded and live.
Not one more man dared to drive
A whet blade into another as long as he breathed,
So in return, the swords had been sheathed.
The brothers helped one another to stand and not fall,
They gathered in unison, each one and all.
Piroget and Blythe and just realized,
That to continue the battle was completely unwise.
Tyrwen and Gelwan stood silent and cold.
Glares and emotions were all they could hold.
Tyrwen began, "You killed my father!"
Gelwan retorted, "He had been such a bother!
He had nearly impaled me on his vicious blade!
It was not my choice, I had to evade!
My father's dead, too! Disease was his death!
He told me to fight with his dying breath!"
"My father, too! It was to bring peace!"
"This is peace?! This quarrel must cease!"
Darkened eyes softened and swords fell to the Earth,
In many mens' deaths, something had been given birth.
Brotherly love among the men that fought
Was found in what they for so long sought.
Peace was born, childish and anew
Fighting is useless, this always holds true.
The Bard's Song - Epilogue
"And thusly it ends, I hope you enjoyed
The tell I just told, the one I envoyed
Into your ears and into your hearts
These morals I wish they never you part."
The Bard strummed once, twice, and thrice
On his mandolin to conclude. The price
Of his song was free, but came with a flaw.
It struck deep in the soul, it struck it raw.
"Thank you for letting me tell my solemn tale,
Now for the next one, let's hope it not fail
To entertain us much like the others
While we sit and listen, like sisters and brothers."
And with a strum of string
His words took sudden wing.
"I speak of a tale,
That breathes without fail,
The moral values that man finds true.
And now, I commence, without further ado."
A soft picking upon the fragile mandolin
Brought lilting notes to the mind within.
And the soft voice of the light-singing Bard
Pierced like a knife, so wicked and hard.
"This story of two empires
With souls made of fires
From the deepest of Hell
That neither knew well.
The men who follow the blind
Honorable oaths that bind
A man to his kingdom.
Never to know the pleasure of freedom."
One final strum and the picking began
"And now through the eyes of a simple man
I tell you a tale of honor at best.
In my words you shall find no jest."
The Bard's Song
Deep in a fading fantasy,
A silver song, a dying decree
Made by an aged king among men
On his deathbed to his son, Tyrwen,
Prince of Blythe. Born of King,
Taken under father's wing.
Pale lids closed upon former pools of gray,
And lips became cold, a shade not so gay.
'Settle the war, my dearest son.
Do not stop 'til the battle's won.
I haven't the strength to keep
Fighting for victory's reap.
Please, take command.
Take your graceful hand,
And lead your kingdom to the sun.
I beg, fight until the battle's won.'
The words resounded softly
And cool, long after the king loft'ly
Passed into the other world.
And without a word, it was unfurled;
A bitterness for the world so unreal,
The son no longer could feel
The line'd been crossed,
The ribbon's unity lost.
And with a great anguish,
He rose from his knees without languish,
And released an uproarus wail
Like the most vicious of gail
Mother Earth could muster
And curses flew like tactless clusters.
"Damn you to Hell, forsaken war!
I swear by God's name I'll settle the score!
Blythe shall make Piroget kneel and cower!
And the hapless fools shall know my power!
I'll crush their bodies and tear their souls!
Because it's for them that Fate's bell tolls!
And with this utterance, he left his father's bed
To gather an army and insure blood was shed.
And in Piroget, miles opposite of Blythe
Sat yet another prince, of looks quite lithe.
Fair hair falling over his angst-ridden eyes,
Full of sorrow and sadness from all the good-byes.
A cold, bitter grimace sat etched in his stone,
Yet he daren't say a word, or even release a moan.
Dark times had befallen the poor kingdom of Piroget,
As with them, too, had problems been set.
An illness returned and took from the land
Their loving king, cutting life's thin strand.
"My people are dying," he said to his
Ears, muttering softly, "It can't be, but is.
Our world is in peril, this anti-delight.
The endless blood-shed and horrible fight
Cannot continue if all wish to stand tall,
I must be the victor, it's unnacceptable to fall."
He shifted quietly on his throne, staring forever
Into the void, in search of answers wherever.
"How can I keep my people alive? Is there
Any sort of release from this nightmare?
I can't sit back and watch my people die
From famine and war. The children that cry
Need to be silenced with the music of peace.
All this brutality and anger simply must cease!
Why does Blythe continue this futile war!?
Why must staying alive be an arduous chore?!
I won't stand to see my people slaughtered like sheep!"
And he, too, left. And all-out war did creep.
Tyrwen stood atop vantage point looking
Down upon his entire kingdom and speaking
From the very bottom of his soul, he decreed,
"People of Blythe! Hear my call! If you wish to survive,
Then Piroget must fall! They will not leave you alive,
There shall be no peace! They have taken our king
In a swipe of a blade! And in return, it's death we shall bring!
Our precious leader is gone and I am in place,
I will not fail you, my people, in bitter disgrace!
We must rally together for the righteous cause
That we seek! Vanquish our enemies, flaws
We shall meek! All Hell will break loose!
Why run? Can you escape? What's the use?!
Let us stand tall, my battered people! Let
Us fight back against those that oppress! Whet
Your blades and gather thy armor! Ready
Thy horse, for tonight we make a steady
Journey to their hill and the 'morrow will
Bring us closer to our slaughter...our kill!"
"My loyal people!" Gelven cried,
"As you well know, our king is gone!
But, so is our Piroget if the battle is not won!
I ask you from the deepest of hearts
That you defend your home with skillfull arts
Of swordsmen and arches and riders alike
To rally together and prepare for a strike!
I feel the presence of an evil becoming
Stronger in the world, and eventually numbing
The lives of all who dwell deep in this place
Because we will deny death's bitter embrace!"
Blythe and Piroget gathered and gathered,
Weapons to ears and in armor they slathered
Themselves until they were set to the brim
For upcoming battle. Faces were grim
And smiles had fled and been replaced
By unfriendly grimaces. With a great haste
The men stood at the gates and marched
Towards the battliefield between, wicked and parched.
Step by step, each one they took, brought
Them closer to the final battle they fought.
Brands in hand and shields on arm,
And faces displayed, with lack of alarm,
A look of sheer potency, a grimace
Of absolute inured toughness, to strike
Fear into the hearts of their foes. Pike
In hand, a young man spoke, "There is
Our enemy, sir!" Tyrwen lowered his
Vision as he would to strike fear,
And quickly said, "It's all too clear,
My young boy. The battle ends here.
It is here on this land, this solemn fronteir,
Where we shall drive deep the thorns
Into the sides of those that plagued. Horns
Of Lucifer will impale their souls on stakes
And their infernal bodies will seethe with aches
Wrought from the deepest and darkest of Hells.
It is with our hands they'll feel pain all too well!
My men! We stand tall on this field to fight!
Victory is nearing, so close. Holy and bright!"
With a single word, 'Halt!' Blythe's men stopped
In mid-march. Senses were heightened, none dropped
A noise to the air. Wind went silent through
The barren wasteland, and then picked up as if on cue.
"The wind's coming in," Gelwan muttered
To his ears as he usually did. Not a word was uttered
By any man who stood, but all halted
As if they were waiting to be assaulted
By their brothers in battle who stood
On the other side, their anti-good.
Gelwan released a yell, "Piroget!
The time is now, the future's set!
Nature knows that this is true!
A storm is coming unto you!
Pray that God is on our side
For Fate's foretelling we must abide
By her humble word and soothing voice;
We've reached this far, we have no choice!
Draw thy swords and ready thy steeds!
For now is the time where we fulfill our needs!"
And so it began, a light-hearted drizzle
As emotions ran high and blood did fizzle
Under their skin in anticipation
For battle between these wondrous nations
Would soon commence in a storm
Of swords so valiant, a form
So true to beauty it can't be denied.
Fate and God here, can't be defied.
The sky broke loose and out came
The ocean, seeking glorious fame
In the heat of the moment, lightning broke
Free from its reigns, it struck in smoke
And scorched the field. Thunder followed,
And all men gasped and swallowed.
It was beckoning, the time was too near.
Hardened visages became too clear.
And then there was silence....
Followed by an outbreak of violence.
Fury had come in the blink of an eye,
As Nature and God looked down at men die
On the lonely battlefield below
And spirit set the plains aglow
With hardened wills and iron swords,
They clash and blood pours in the hordes
While the rage fills the air and makes it thick
Then the blood goes to work, causing a stick
To the ground and a wretched aroma
Rises and fills hearts with disgust and awe.
Swords clashed, sparks flew and lives were taken all too quick.
The battle raged and made ones sick
To see their friends and brothers fallen
Before their very eyes, lives were stolen.
Horses fell dead as did their masters
Who could forsee such distaster
In a battle where only peace was to be gained?
But instead, only hatred and angst reigned.
Then it happened, the two had met.
Gelwan and Tyrwen faced, cold sweat
Dripping from their visages, breathing hard
and staring viciously, holding the card
They'd each been dealt. "It ends here and
Now," they uttered in unison, each with a hand
Holding the hilt of a blade. Shields cocked upright
Readying for a fight, the final charge took flight.
They met inbetween and they crossed their blades,
Hair fell over their faces changing their shades
Of violence and anger and turned them to smiles
"So this is how it's going to end, Gelwan? The end of our trials?"
Tyrwen grimaced harshly and forced himself forward.
In defiance, Gelwan pushed, "I'll send your body shoreward!"
Breaking the holds, the each backed away
"This is your end, much to your dismay!"
They roared once more and charged to end
The bitter battle with a final Godsend
Plea to finish what had already begun
So that lives could be saved and all could be won.
But, then an eerie thing occurred.
The sweet, soft, lilting melody of a newflight bird.
Where were the cries of battle and war?
They had been killed with the fight they adore.
So many lay dead, wounded and live.
Not one more man dared to drive
A whet blade into another as long as he breathed,
So in return, the swords had been sheathed.
The brothers helped one another to stand and not fall,
They gathered in unison, each one and all.
Piroget and Blythe and just realized,
That to continue the battle was completely unwise.
Tyrwen and Gelwan stood silent and cold.
Glares and emotions were all they could hold.
Tyrwen began, "You killed my father!"
Gelwan retorted, "He had been such a bother!
He had nearly impaled me on his vicious blade!
It was not my choice, I had to evade!
My father's dead, too! Disease was his death!
He told me to fight with his dying breath!"
"My father, too! It was to bring peace!"
"This is peace?! This quarrel must cease!"
Darkened eyes softened and swords fell to the Earth,
In many mens' deaths, something had been given birth.
Brotherly love among the men that fought
Was found in what they for so long sought.
Peace was born, childish and anew
Fighting is useless, this always holds true.
The Bard's Song - Epilogue
"And thusly it ends, I hope you enjoyed
The tell I just told, the one I envoyed
Into your ears and into your hearts
These morals I wish they never you part."
The Bard strummed once, twice, and thrice
On his mandolin to conclude. The price
Of his song was free, but came with a flaw.
It struck deep in the soul, it struck it raw.
"Thank you for letting me tell my solemn tale,
Now for the next one, let's hope it not fail
To entertain us much like the others
While we sit and listen, like sisters and brothers."