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Poetry inspired by Norrath
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The Beast of Ages Past
Deep in caves of rock and fire,
Up stairs that lead forever higher,
In Norrath's foulest pit of doom,
In a dreaded, reeking room
Dwells the beast of ages past.
His breath is death, his roar is fear
His very gaze can burn and sear.
His walls are scratched by mighty claws,
And stained by blood from dripping jaws:
So lives the beast of ages past.
Some come to take his hoarded treasure,
On which he rests in beastly pleasure.
With cheers and jeers and painful wails
They pierce his hide and rip his scales,
To kill the beast of ages past.
But if he roars their names out loud,
Whether they be meek or proud,
They will be summoned to his nest
And gutted die like all the rest:
Slain by the beast of ages past.
Though they may kill him, he will rise
To be seen again by mortal eyes,
And he will strike down those who dare
Enter Lord Nagafen's Lair.
Such is the beast of ages past.
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The Fate of Karg Icebear (a tragedy)
Far up North in the Everfrost plains
Lives a man in a kilt with his hand on a hilt
And the locals all call him Karg.
The last of the Icebears he says that he is
The end of his clan, this cold loving man
The man by the name of Karg.
He wanders the snow, he traverses the ice
Painted in blue, frozen toes in his shoes
This tattooed tailor called Karg.
If you hand him five plat and a polar bear skin
He will make you a cloak if his name you invoke
Greeting him with: Hail Karg!
But be quick if you spot him, for as soon as he's seen
He'll be attacked for his loot by some greedy galoot
And so comes the end for Karg.
They all hunt him and kill him as if he were a gnoll,
They are hot on his heels and as over he keels
He lets out a muffled "Aaarghhh".
And such is the fate of Karg.
To Kelethin
To Kelethin where trees grow high,
Where soft, mild, fragrant breezes sigh,
Where the pixies and the fairies fly,
Where thick the fallen leaves do lie
Beneath the starry endless sky,
To that dear place I've said goodbye.
Yet sometimes in the night I cry
As the cold wind whispers: "Oh elf child, why?
Why did you leave, how will you get by?"
And I know there is but one reply,
Because though I left, my heart won't lie,
I know my soul will dwell there until I die.
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Of The Lost Temple
'Neath murky Feerrotts darkened sky
Where green vines creep and frogloks cry,
There looms a temple large and old
That many secrets still does hold.
For Cazic Thule, this keep was made,
In forgotten ages the stones were laid,
But no one knows who built these halls
Or who inscribed the mighty walls.
Ancient dangers dwell within,
Where no one but the brave have been,
They guard the courtyards and the throne
And fool is he who comes alone.
Armed with teeth and claws and spells
Death lurks in the rooms and wells:
Vicious lizard, golem, ape,
And Fear itself in monstrous shape.
You will find no pity for the weak,
For those who run and cry and shriek,
But one thing still brings the fighters here,
In spite of death and pain and fear:
Rare riches are what drive their schemes,
That fill their thoughts and haunt their dreams.
And many brave and goodly deed
Has here been betrayed by wicked greed.
In this lost temple 'neath Feerrott's sky,
They come to fight and come to die,
Some find fortune, some find a friend
And some find only a bitter end.
But the creatures of the God of Fear
Will never shed a single tear,
For dwarf and gnome and man and elf
Who braved the halls of Cazic Thule himself.
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