Friday, October 6, 2017

Bardic Circle: A Poem by Renee "Mouse" Booke

Legend of the Mortal God

All hope was lost at world’s end.
The Dark was strong and wouldn’t bend.
Mankind had given into hate,
And the Gods had left them to their fate.
Once golden fields were left to rot,
As armies bled, and died, and fought.
Proud trees with roots as old as time,
Were chopped to ruin by man’s crime.
Ancient mountains quaked with fear,
They knew the truth, the end was near.
Kings marched announced by rumbling drums.
Kingdoms turned to ashen crumbs.
With spear, and mace, and sword in hand,
Villains laid waste to the land.
Their torches blazed with violent flame,
And many lives their heat did claim.
Try as they might, man could not flee;
And so they took to bended knee.
Where were the Gods? They wished to know,
But still their saviors would not show.
Within the Heavens, untouched by pain,
One Deity did hang his head in shame.
Restrained by oath and blind decrees,
No prayers were answered, no minds appeased.
Angels stood silent in empty halls,
There were no joyful trumpet calls.
The spirit of the Silver Gates had broken,
Due to this promise the Gods had spoken.
He couldn’t watch, he couldn’t bear,
The long, unending stream of prayer.
When he found he could not idle stand,
He took his righteous blade in hand.
His mighty shield, of steel and wood,
Defied the Gods in name of Good.
Three silver chevrons upon his breast,
Became a beacon, a hopeful crest.
The wicked, they did fear his gaze,
He set their vile hearts ablaze.
Down from the heavens he did descend,
The wounds of man he sought to mend.
The people wept, and then rejoiced.
For Vandor was their only voice.
A warrior come from upon high,
To save them when the end seemed nigh.
He ended wars, he ended greed.
For mortals he did fight and bleed.
A legend from the plane of Valor,
Around him quiet storms did gather.
No innocent soul was left forgotten,
All was healed that once was rotten.

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