Slann
Scalenex
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Happy New Year, Celebrate the New Year with some Poems.
There are nine excellent poems here and you may vote for up to three.
I advise taking your time and not rushing. None of the poems are super long. I suggest reading these poems slowly and then re-reading them before deciding on which poems to vote for.
There are nine excellent poems here and you may vote for up to three.
I advise taking your time and not rushing. None of the poems are super long. I suggest reading these poems slowly and then re-reading them before deciding on which poems to vote for.
Lizards In Garnet
Far away from Old World's shore,
Where humans labor and dawi snore,
Far past the shores of Ulthuan,
Yet far Southward of Naggarond,
Lies the lands of Lustria.
Verdant growth hides dangers great,
Where the greedy lust for golden plate,
Hidden within ruins of stone,
Where seekers hunt, but not alone,
Thus is the lure of Lustria.
Treasure hunters hack through brush,
Full unaware of nature's hush,
They seek for gold, but not aware,
That they are not the only there,
For danger lurks in Lustria.
They trek to ruins of tumbled stones,
Strewn with rubble, growth, and bones,
A flash of gems, the glint of gold,
Makes the treasure hunters bold,
They all will die in Lustria.
Troves of treasure some will find,
For others death would be most kind,
Toxic plants and serpents' bite,
Are subtle compared to scaled might,
This is the land of Lustria.
For as the seekers gather loot,
They find that all their work lies moot,
From shadows at jungle's verge,
Scaled defenders emerge,
These are the kin of Lustria.
Short of stature, quick and nimble,
Launching blowdarts tipped with thimbles-
Full of toxins and stars' portent,
Skinks keep watch for ill intent,
They are the planners of Lustria.
Larger still yet no less deathly,
Are the Saurus, far more healthy,
They wield stone-edged club or spear,
With hides of scale and jaws to fear,
They are the soldiers of Lustria.
Hulking forms with massive teeth,
Limbs of power with greater reach,
Kroxigor have simpler minds,
But no less deadly invaders find,
They are the ogres of Lustria.
Worse things still come from the jungles,
To take advantage of seekers' bungles,
Creatures massive with jaws like dragons,
Things drunkards speak of over flagons,
Monsters lurk in Lustria.
Some will fly, some will walk,
On legs of two or four they stalk,
Guided by the lizards smaller,
Who keep beasties under their power,
This is the strength of Lustria.
Seek ye not the lizards' gold,
Heed not stories you've been told,
For I tell you with all my breath,
Lustria's shores bring naught but death,
You will perish in Lustria.
If Skaven we have offended,
Worry not, it was intended,
Rat-kin who in jungles trek,
Shall be sacrificed to Sotek,
This is their fate in Lustria.
So man of North or Worlder Old,
Aelf or Dawi seeking gold,
Chaos, Rat-spawn, Ogre tall,
All will die by scaled claw,
Stay away from Lustria.
Seriously, stop invading our shores,
We're getting annoyed.
Far away from Old World's shore,
Where humans labor and dawi snore,
Far past the shores of Ulthuan,
Yet far Southward of Naggarond,
Lies the lands of Lustria.
Verdant growth hides dangers great,
Where the greedy lust for golden plate,
Hidden within ruins of stone,
Where seekers hunt, but not alone,
Thus is the lure of Lustria.
Treasure hunters hack through brush,
Full unaware of nature's hush,
They seek for gold, but not aware,
That they are not the only there,
For danger lurks in Lustria.
They trek to ruins of tumbled stones,
Strewn with rubble, growth, and bones,
A flash of gems, the glint of gold,
Makes the treasure hunters bold,
They all will die in Lustria.
Troves of treasure some will find,
For others death would be most kind,
Toxic plants and serpents' bite,
Are subtle compared to scaled might,
This is the land of Lustria.
For as the seekers gather loot,
They find that all their work lies moot,
From shadows at jungle's verge,
Scaled defenders emerge,
These are the kin of Lustria.
Short of stature, quick and nimble,
Launching blowdarts tipped with thimbles-
Full of toxins and stars' portent,
Skinks keep watch for ill intent,
They are the planners of Lustria.
Larger still yet no less deathly,
Are the Saurus, far more healthy,
They wield stone-edged club or spear,
With hides of scale and jaws to fear,
They are the soldiers of Lustria.
Hulking forms with massive teeth,
Limbs of power with greater reach,
Kroxigor have simpler minds,
But no less deadly invaders find,
They are the ogres of Lustria.
Worse things still come from the jungles,
To take advantage of seekers' bungles,
Creatures massive with jaws like dragons,
Things drunkards speak of over flagons,
Monsters lurk in Lustria.
Some will fly, some will walk,
On legs of two or four they stalk,
Guided by the lizards smaller,
Who keep beasties under their power,
This is the strength of Lustria.
Seek ye not the lizards' gold,
Heed not stories you've been told,
For I tell you with all my breath,
Lustria's shores bring naught but death,
You will perish in Lustria.
If Skaven we have offended,
Worry not, it was intended,
Rat-kin who in jungles trek,
Shall be sacrificed to Sotek,
This is their fate in Lustria.
So man of North or Worlder Old,
Aelf or Dawi seeking gold,
Chaos, Rat-spawn, Ogre tall,
All will die by scaled claw,
Stay away from Lustria.
Seriously, stop invading our shores,
We're getting annoyed.
Jungle vines tangle.
Scaled hunters stalk the brush.
Sure death to plague monks.
Scaled hunters stalk the brush.
Sure death to plague monks.
The good cause:
Spawned from dark waters, bornout of light
Lizards stride forwards, readyto fight
Commanded in battle by their masters, the Slann
Guided themselves by the great plan.
Along ages of Battle, eons of Strife
they guarded the world and laid down their life.
Not to take treasure, glory or personal gain,
but fighting their cause: Untill Chaos is slain.
Spawned from dark waters, bornout of light
Lizards stride forwards, readyto fight
Commanded in battle by their masters, the Slann
Guided themselves by the great plan.
Along ages of Battle, eons of Strife
they guarded the world and laid down their life.
Not to take treasure, glory or personal gain,
but fighting their cause: Untill Chaos is slain.
SUMMER COMES AGAIN
Summer comes again
Summer never leaves
Towering jungle branches
Sweltering southern heat
The cold blooded warriors
Moving with fluidity
Soaking up the summer warmth
Beneath the jungle canopy
Cool blooded
Sharp minded creatures
Adapted and crafted
Perfect weapon of nature
Seasons of coldness
Loss, defeat, but then
The warriors will triumph
Summer comes again
Summer comes again
Summer never leaves
Towering jungle branches
Sweltering southern heat
The cold blooded warriors
Moving with fluidity
Soaking up the summer warmth
Beneath the jungle canopy
Cool blooded
Sharp minded creatures
Adapted and crafted
Perfect weapon of nature
Seasons of coldness
Loss, defeat, but then
The warriors will triumph
Summer comes again
T’was the night before Solstice, all through the habitat
Not a creature was stirring, not even a rat
The Skaven had all been slain for the great snake
The altars and shrines set for worship to make.
The orcs and the goblins all snug in filthy beds
While visions of WAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHH! Danc’d in their heads
The ogres in their camps, with treasure in a heap
Their food was all eaten, they might as well sleep
The elves finished doing whatever they do over there
Saying snobby and combing their hair
The dwarves were all resting deep in their holds
Warm in their beds, their blankets in folds.
The Skinks and Kroxigors were resting in their barrios
The Saurus slept standing up because they don’t really care…ios
Deep in the temple, the Slann on this throne
Save one bored attendant, was left all alone
The Slann slept through last Solstice as he is wont to do
In all likelihood he’ll miss the next one too
The Empire and Brets were off on their own
Time is a factor, I must limit the length of this poem.
I did not include factions from the Age of Sigmar
Including non-8th edition is a bridge much too far.
I figured the poem is long enough for this start
It was time to go to bed and stop creating new art
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters, and threw up the sash.
That was quite lazy the last lines I made in
This poem drew the last four lines from the old poem verbatim
The moon on the breast of the snow in the parking lot
I have to scoop out my car tomorrow, this weather can rot
When to my wandering eyes should reveal the course
But an ornate royal chariot with skeleton horse
I knew in a moment it was mighty Settra
His herald announced him with all his glories etcetera.
But as soon as he arrived he readied to depart.
“Wait, don’t you have gifts to impart?”
“The ogres want candy, the greenskins new choppas”
“The humans want feathers and banners to show to their poppas”
“The elves whined and cried, the Skaven alone did not object”
The rats had all died, sacrificed for Sotek.
“The Lizards want grubs, the dwarves want some whiskey”
“Isn’t denying everyone presents a little bit risky?”
He drew a deep breath though he didn’t have lungs
“You all are all getting nothing, I don’t care if that stung”
With a telepathic command his flying chariot leapt away
Far more awesome and deadly than Santa’s dumb sleigh.
But I heard him exclaim, adorned with his jewels
“Settra does not serve, Settra rules!”
Not a creature was stirring, not even a rat
The Skaven had all been slain for the great snake
The altars and shrines set for worship to make.
The orcs and the goblins all snug in filthy beds
While visions of WAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHH! Danc’d in their heads
The ogres in their camps, with treasure in a heap
Their food was all eaten, they might as well sleep
The elves finished doing whatever they do over there
Saying snobby and combing their hair
The dwarves were all resting deep in their holds
Warm in their beds, their blankets in folds.
The Skinks and Kroxigors were resting in their barrios
The Saurus slept standing up because they don’t really care…ios
Deep in the temple, the Slann on this throne
Save one bored attendant, was left all alone
The Slann slept through last Solstice as he is wont to do
In all likelihood he’ll miss the next one too
The Empire and Brets were off on their own
Time is a factor, I must limit the length of this poem.
I did not include factions from the Age of Sigmar
Including non-8th edition is a bridge much too far.
I figured the poem is long enough for this start
It was time to go to bed and stop creating new art
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters, and threw up the sash.
That was quite lazy the last lines I made in
This poem drew the last four lines from the old poem verbatim
The moon on the breast of the snow in the parking lot
I have to scoop out my car tomorrow, this weather can rot
When to my wandering eyes should reveal the course
But an ornate royal chariot with skeleton horse
I knew in a moment it was mighty Settra
His herald announced him with all his glories etcetera.
But as soon as he arrived he readied to depart.
“Wait, don’t you have gifts to impart?”
“The ogres want candy, the greenskins new choppas”
“The humans want feathers and banners to show to their poppas”
“The elves whined and cried, the Skaven alone did not object”
The rats had all died, sacrificed for Sotek.
“The Lizards want grubs, the dwarves want some whiskey”
“Isn’t denying everyone presents a little bit risky?”
He drew a deep breath though he didn’t have lungs
“You all are all getting nothing, I don’t care if that stung”
With a telepathic command his flying chariot leapt away
Far more awesome and deadly than Santa’s dumb sleigh.
But I heard him exclaim, adorned with his jewels
“Settra does not serve, Settra rules!”
Hunted
Silent night, all to quiet,
something stirs out of sight.
I am searching a place to hide
hoping I will survive this night
claws, fangs and hardened scales,
blue and red vibrant frills.
Silent night, all to quiet,
something stirs out of sight.
I am searching a place to hide
hoping I will survive this night
claws, fangs and hardened scales,
blue and red vibrant frills.
Funny Life
memory of my Spawning flees me
water Thrashing all that is left
much like my little fellow fish
Fighting with such bravery
memory of my Spawning flees me
water Thrashing all that is left
lying dead the fish
its ending in Peace
memory of my Spawning flees me
water Thrashing all that is left
much like my little fellow fish
Fighting with such bravery
memory of my Spawning flees me
water Thrashing all that is left
lying dead the fish
its ending in Peace
Sparks to Fire, Fire to Embers
The host gathers.
With the uniting of brethren, their combined spirit merges and combines into something ever greater, ever larger.
The sparks catch fire.
Like a kindled flame, the isolated energy of the brothers builds from pools to sea as the fires of war ignite within them.
The roaring flame.
The army surges forwards, the sparks of life now a raging wildfire surging forwards as one to consume the foe.
Flame envelops.
The tidal sea of flaming passion engulfs the ranks of the enemy, their blaze enfolding the foe like the fire swallowing wood and branch.
The fire burns.
The army crashes into the enemy, surging and receding like the moon driven tide, and like the fire it both consumes and is consumed as foe and brother expire.
The heat fades.
The fiery rush begins to pale as brother watches brother cut down, watches life ended suddenly, senselessly until they are numb to the pain.
The embers fade.
As the clash ends, the last final motes of ferocity seem to fade as the quenching burst of grief spreads throughout the scene.
And there is only ashes.
Then it is done, then it has died, for feeling itself has died and those who remain wonder why they felt the passion, as they stand amidst the ashes of their dreams.
The host gathers.
With the uniting of brethren, their combined spirit merges and combines into something ever greater, ever larger.
The sparks catch fire.
Like a kindled flame, the isolated energy of the brothers builds from pools to sea as the fires of war ignite within them.
The roaring flame.
The army surges forwards, the sparks of life now a raging wildfire surging forwards as one to consume the foe.
Flame envelops.
The tidal sea of flaming passion engulfs the ranks of the enemy, their blaze enfolding the foe like the fire swallowing wood and branch.
The fire burns.
The army crashes into the enemy, surging and receding like the moon driven tide, and like the fire it both consumes and is consumed as foe and brother expire.
The heat fades.
The fiery rush begins to pale as brother watches brother cut down, watches life ended suddenly, senselessly until they are numb to the pain.
The embers fade.
As the clash ends, the last final motes of ferocity seem to fade as the quenching burst of grief spreads throughout the scene.
And there is only ashes.
Then it is done, then it has died, for feeling itself has died and those who remain wonder why they felt the passion, as they stand amidst the ashes of their dreams.
Seventh Hell
Clashing with the foe,
On a Cold-one, gonna slay,
All the fiends be-low,
Snarling all the way,
Spells from clawed hand sling,
Burning daemons bright,
Oh, our weapons they do sing,
Slaying with all our might,
Oh, seventh hell, seventh hell,
Who opened up the way?
Oh, our hatred amplified,
I hope we'll win the day,
A day or two ago,
I fought some evil spied,
Found a Chaos coven,
Tried to take their lives,
Missed some of their back ranks,
Misfortune seems my lot,
Rites chanted so we were sank,
And Chaos gate they got,
Oh, seventh hell, seventh hell,
Don't accept our fate,
Ir-re-sist-i-ble dispell,
We are shutting down the gate.
Clashing with the foe,
On a Cold-one, gonna slay,
All the fiends be-low,
Snarling all the way,
Spells from clawed hand sling,
Burning daemons bright,
Oh, our weapons they do sing,
Slaying with all our might,
Oh, seventh hell, seventh hell,
Who opened up the way?
Oh, our hatred amplified,
I hope we'll win the day,
A day or two ago,
I fought some evil spied,
Found a Chaos coven,
Tried to take their lives,
Missed some of their back ranks,
Misfortune seems my lot,
Rites chanted so we were sank,
And Chaos gate they got,
Oh, seventh hell, seventh hell,
Don't accept our fate,
Ir-re-sist-i-ble dispell,
We are shutting down the gate.
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