Curse

Eldin · Jan 26, 2006, 03:18 AM // 03:18

I've decided to make up these little writings/poems in regard to the professions of GW. The remaining three will come later. Tell me what you think, this is leisure, and I think I may be doing similar writings for weapons, maybe.

The Elementalist

Eternally burdened in many ways.
Studying the arts for numerous days.
Then the shards of completion fall into place.
Now, perhaps, ahead in the race...

...for dominance among the battlefield.

The searing power of the unholy flame,
so much devastation, it to blame.

Earth is structured and quite in comparison
to the flame. Its various uses...

Water soothes and drives out the evil.
Its gentle grace, flowing over the scars.
Slowly but surely recovering the destruction left behind.

Air is everywhere, calm yet fierce.
From the gentle wind upon oneself's face...
...to the apocalyptic storms that led realms to ruin.

In an eternal conflict against one another, fighting
for dominance, as do the mortal denizens of Tyria.
In the end, there is no true victor. It is purely balanced...

...eternally balanced...to shape the land and weave
fate.

-------

The Ranger

All is tranquil, yet it is not. Among the endless
clusters of trees, light shines through...but waiting
atop a branch lies the Ranger.

The fiend marches by...

...the Ranger is equally sly. With a careful focus
upon said fiend's heart...

...his end is about to start. With a steady grip,
the time draws closer...

...one shot. One kill. He always works for such
an accomplishment.

...it is fired.

...in a mere moment, the fiend drops dead. His
allies startled, look about. But they're too late.
The Ranger is already gone. With the speed of
the wind, he continues his hunt...slowly...
...victim by victim.

The skilled enemies, by coincidence, find his
location. The cunning of the Ranger has sealed
their fates yet again; as the ground began to shake,
and a most gruesome sight came into view.

The enemies impaled, bleeding more than a
sacrificial necromancer. Their skin begins to sear
as a powerful flame engulfs their bodies.
They've no hope to escape, as they fumble with
the stinging dust in their eyes.

In the end, they were mutilated beyond recognition.
Their corpses left to rot...

...and give nutrition to Melandru's blessed glades, of
which the Ranger eternally roams.

-------

The Mesmer

The Mesmer's realm is eternally disorientating.
With the guidance of Lyssa, thou is able to shape
illusions to their will, and control of more...

...much more. The Mesmer, as intellectual as
the elementalist...ages of study.

He weaves a purple mist about, which slowly forms
to reveal soothing images...even the most battle-
hardened of creatures cannot stand such. The
images ripple out and enter the mind...the enemies
have been dazed.

The Mesmer is equally frail as is the elementalist,
yet his skill, he speaks into the enemy's mind...

...suddenly, the enemy's mind is disrupted with
pain. 'Tis not physical, but the mesmer focuses,
and continues to send such into the enemy's mind.

...these hallucinations end with the enemy dead.
His soul practically shocked out of his body.

Ristaron · Jan 29, 2006, 10:02 PM // 22:02

Chilling. You have a way with words. I look forward to reading the rest of the professions.

Look Alive · Jan 29, 2006, 10:04 PM // 22:04

...
wow

I must say I enjoyed the one about the ranger. Though I might not look at it as a poem, it is most definately a poetic description of his extreme characteristics. Cant wait for your necro poem, should be good :O

MrScaRy · Jan 30, 2006, 05:13 PM // 17:13

darn... this is really good, i hope you keep posting!!

Eldin · Feb 01, 2006, 03:41 AM // 03:41

Ty for the comments so far, all.

The Necromancer

Among all the darkness...one shape remains.
'Tis a portal. A demonic portal. To another town?
To the past? To the very bowels of hell?

It is the work of a necromancer. Yet another shape
passes. One fumbling through the dark. One
disfigured. One that is not even able to be
considered living...a boy. A young man, to be
precise.

He proudly bears the clothing of a white mantle...
...yet. That is all that is similar. His eyes bloodshot,
his skin decayed...one of many who has their
soul eternally condemned to roam the world,
never allowed passage into The Rift.

"Master", he said to another. The large chamber
begins to illuminate. 'Tis a dark chamber with
numerous glyphs and images of Grenth Himself.
The greatest wall image of Him glares down upon
the two. One ray of moonlight shines in through.
One. Perhaps as a sign that there is more to the
world than darkness.

"Take to the village of Bureth. Bring your brethren
with you, and bring as many bodies back here
as possible."

"Yes, m'lord."

As time went on, the so-called "master" had emitted
a mysterious, glowing light throughout the chamber.
He was a necromancer. Hunched over, a huge scar
on his face, still fresh with blood.

It was apparent what was happening. An entire
legion of the Mantle...under the control of one
man. If he could even be considered a man.

"Go forth." he said to the first minion.
(OOC: the guy from the beginning)
"Lead our armies to victory, and destroy any
resistance. Eventually, we will be victorious.

Go now...

...brother..."

And at that moment, this so called "brother"
had hit a revelation point. His own brother had
betrayed him for his own purposes. Has he
found himself out of the prison? Free will at last?

...he ran and ran. Never to be seen again.

MinaDrakul · Feb 06, 2006, 08:27 AM // 08:27

Your writing is excellent! I would love to be able to write on that level. Maybe one day.....

Rayndeon · Feb 08, 2006, 11:20 AM // 11:20

In a language in which verse is hard to accomplish, creating the lyrical, rhythmical style of good poetry is difficult. The problem with your poems is simply that they are not poems; you are attempting to write poems in free verse when they read like prose. There are some minute snatches of it, but honestly; the entire work needs to be revised. If it were a prose work, then it would be fine. But of course, this is poetry and thus such grievances are likely.

However, of course, you may talk of Dante's style. It is true; translated, his work did seem like prose. However, the work was originally written in Italian. Intriguingly, in had an interwoven rhyming triplet scheme inspired by the Trinity and the actual meter itself was rhythmical. Such is not the case with your work I am sorry to say.

Symeon · Feb 10, 2006, 04:07 PM // 16:07

Quote:

Originally Posted by Rayndeon

In a language in which verse is hard to accomplish, creating the lyrical, rhythmical style of good poetry is difficult. The problem with your poems is simply that they are not poems; you are attempting to write poems in free verse when they read like prose. There are some minute snatches of it, but honestly; the entire work needs to be revised. If it were a prose work, then it would be fine. But of course, this is poetry and thus such grievances are likely.

However, of course, you may talk of Dante's style. It is true; translated, his work did seem like prose. However, the work was originally written in Italian. Intriguingly, in had an interwoven rhyming triplet scheme inspired by the Trinity and the actual meter itself was rhythmical. Such is not the case with your work I am sorry to say.

Why are you so horribly critical of the writing of others? You did it to Storm Crow too... You seem to talk in a very elitist and highly educated critical style - not trying to be too insulting, but I think you will find you bring bad opinion on yourself here by that manner of communication. Go ahead now and give me some backtalk with a quote of someone to fit it - I just won't be taking note of it.

@Eldin: Wow! Great writing! , PS: I'm in your guild! Hiya!