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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

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Posted

This is the intro-poem I read to my players to illustrate some local histroy and the events that have lead to the present day problems in their campaign.

 

If you want to get the full effect, listen to the song "Fade to Black" by Apocolyptica. They're an excellant classical band that provided the inspiration for this poem and the campaign itself. (Imagine my surprise when I should stumble upon this song with a similat title as my campaign).

 

As well, the poem, if read aloud, is timed to the song (part of the effect I was going for). If you start the song right after the line, "Our story begins in former days, when still the lands were held in praise…" you should finish the poem JUST as the song is finishing.

 

Let me know what you think.

 

Enjoy.

 

The Black Inquisition

 

Prolog

 

It is a time of great woe and unrest.

Whilst the rest of the world lives in prosperity,

These lands have become plunged in war.

 

A century’s old conflict, with new protest,

Against king and country. Peace, a rarity,

Lost within the blood and gore.

 

The land torn by kin and creed.

 

Here our tale now begins,

As those who have lain in wait proceed,

And the world wavers on edge.

 

A land torn by dread and sins,

Falling into darkness. A growing need,

For the brave to delve a sharpened wedge,

 

At last, between the just and those of vile greed.

 

Our story begins in former days, when still the lands were held in praise…

 

Once, long ago, there lived a man who was King.

He was just and true, a man of honor and nobility.

Who yearned to unite his lands under one banner, and bring

About a golden age, ending generations of hostility.

 

He ruled his domain for many years, trying to end the vices

Of invading threats. Of enemies from within.

He tried all manners to accomplish this, all devices

To end his country’s woe and chagrin.

 

But, after years of gracious reign, civil unrest grew.

Thousands saw him as no ruler, and rebelled.

All of them swayed and led by silver tongued shrew,

Who denounced the king, and would not be quelled.

 

And so a civil war erupted. Kingdom against the King.

The country delved into conflict, divided in twain.

A costly war, between one people, of all things;

The blood of innocence shed; a dynasty of pain.

 

After countless battles and murders, the tide began to ebb,

And victory seemed to favor those loyal to the throne.

But, before he was victorious, the King was struck dead,

By assassin in the night, whose identity was never known.

 

The Royal Guard raised up in arms, enraged,

By act most foul. They demanded retribution!

And they wrought a bloody campaign, a rampage

Against those against the king, to crush the revolution.

 

Led now by the King’s first son, a mourning warlord,

Barely two decades old, they cut a path of blood

Through the lands. The king’s brooding ward,

Took to murder well, and released a flood.

 

“Kill the traitors!” came their cry, and soon,

The rebellion was crushed by plunder and rape.

Those who received swift resolution were receiving boon,

As most died with pain. And none could escape.

 

The silver tongued was brought before the Prince,

Accused of treason, and the death of the Prince’s father.

And before he or any could speak, without waver or wince,

The king’s son dealt a bloody end to the “impertinent bother”.

 

Then, still washed in the blood of his foe, the ward

Declared himself the new lord of lands, and took the throne.

And, knowing his courage, the people saw fit to reward

The Prince, and make the crown his own.

 

But, few knew truly of the prince’s blackened ways,

How in past days, he perfected the arts of torment

On pets and servants. Ill in mind, with thoughts ablaze.

Who caused his mother sickness from lament.

 

Few, that is, save the former King, who took sorrowful sight,

Of his son’s masochism since his birth, and arranged

With the trusted Priest to read, when time was right,

The Final Declaration. And prevent a king deranged.

 

The Kingdom watched as elder priest, with scrolls of yore

Bearing crest of former king, stood before the bleeding Prince,

And showed to him the King’s decree, and what it bore.

And none had seen the Prince more enraged, before or since.

 

The King, by full command, named not his first son heir,

But rather his second born son, a child of soft spoken insight,

Whom the King loved dearly. And so it was declared.

The new King stepped forward, his eyes timid and contrite.

 

The first born Prince watched with disdain as younger kin,

Stepped forward to claim what tradition demanded was his own.

Watching his birth rite stolen, a great madness welled within

His breast, and burned within his blood and bone.

 

Finally, in burning rage, the maddened Prince denounced

His brother; denounced his name and right to bear the crown,

Knowing the ancient laws that no new king can be pronounced,

As long as kin of blood and name challenged his renown.

 

The people and the royal court were appalled, disbelieving

What they had heard, and still more as they watched the slighted

Prince rise from the throne and proclaim as he was leaving,

That he shall rise and take the throne, whether given or benighted.

 

And the rightful king watched his older kin leave the court,

And wept at his departure. A country wounded, a family torn,

A Prince made Steward, and not King, for without support,

Of living kin, a new dynasty could not be born.

 

This is how it was, and this is how it continues to be.

A family dishonored for greed and spite. A fallen crest.

And no hope for future peace, as long as brothers disagree.

And rightful heir to Vieon’s throne is in contest.

 

And behind it all, behind the shadows and the fog,

Whispers of blackened mentors seep across the court,

Does amongst those most trusted walk traitorous dogs?

And seek, for once and all, the royal family to thwart?

 

This is how the story has unfolded, where we find ourselves,

The die cast, the page has turned, all is in position.

Step forward hero, step forward beast, step forward men and elves.

Our story has begun. Welcome to The Black Inquisition.

 

Signed-

Guest Enos1
Posted

(DAMN IT! Wrong nick. Sorry)

 

If that's the prolouge, then it's got to be a goodie of a campain.

 

 

- Silverblade

Edited by: Enos1 at: 7/5/02 4:21:30 pm

Guest Xradion
Posted

        Awesome! I wish I could narrate a story that well and still adhere to a rhyme scheme. You truly have a gift.

 

 

 

 

Xradion,

The Horny Druid,

Scholar of the Ancient Arts,

Holder of the Eye of Odin.

 

"The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream."

-Wallace Stevens

 

"When at home, do as the Homans do." –Xradion

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