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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

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Posted

A man, an axe, a swing, and blood

A splatter of crimson falls in the mud

A head in a basket, already stained,

A souvenir for the audience soon obtained

A cheer and a shout and applause for more

A thousand people asking for gore

 

A second victim brought to hang from a rope

A trapdoor below makes a fine slope

A lever is pulled and the man falls below

A neck that is snapped so the vertebrae show

 

A time for execution not over just yet

A thief is to die for not paying his debt

A large sharpened knife makes a gash towards his innards

A suitable punishment for all crafty sinners

A cord that is fastened to intestines

A hole the knife made sowed up with stitches and pins

A rope to tie up the thieve's hands and feet

A seperate end of cord attached to equine feet

A shout at the horse as it trots away

A mass of organs ripped out with pleasant display

 

A horde of people clap and cheer

A blood-stained stage rolled away, not easy to steer

A time for executions has come and gone

A criminals legend smeared on a stage, not in a song

A finish for all things as death is brought swift

A time not to live on in Death's infinite rift

Posted

I truly loved the realism of this. It is a shame to see how barbaric a race we were and can still be. It does stop and start in a couple places but that doesn't matter for me when descriptive quality was sooo good.

 

Its nice to explore the darker side and I think you more than did justice to what you set out to do!

 

Bravo! :wolf:

Posted

That was pretty raw and powerful - which was probably the intent. communicated descriptively without getting too graphic.

Done well enough to earn two 'icky!' awards. ;)

Posted

This was very well-written, ashke, though not about a topic I like...(as everyone has already guessed, I'm not one for gore...) but as Parmenion pointed out, we were and are a barbaric race deep down, and our darker sides are captured in this poem.

Posted (edited)

=hands you some catnip just cos= Mmmerf...I like it...=sort of nervous grin= There's always that [annoying] side of us that's all for gore and death and blood and stuff...just look at the ancient romans [or my icon...heh]...but yeh...I like it! =thumbs up sign=

Edited by autumn_sun
Posted

Well, I had to stop reading it half way through as I'm not one for gore. BUT that alone is probably testament that it was written well and as descriptive as you intended. :0)

 

~Salinye :butterfly:

Posted

Salinye... *laughs a little* If you continue my campaign... you haven't even seen the start of my talents for gore description yet... however, should you find it a trifle queasy or the like, i believe i can edit it a trifle more, as my dearest is not one for gore herself either.

Posted

Goodness!! Don't edit it on account of my personal quota of gore intake!! If gore is what you wanted in that poem, then by all means keep it! :0)

 

~Salinye :butterfly:

Posted

No no Salinye, I had no intention of editing the poem. My skills actually are incapable of being less gory and still write a morbid poem... sorry. I was speaking of the RP of which you hold place as a cleric in. As my beloved is not one for gore, and neither are you, I have made a mental note that I would not provide the following to my posts as far as when you slay a monster.

 

As you approach the druids, the crossbow bolt let loose by Harmon finds itself planted deep in one of the forest elder's head, crimson flowing down his forehead and along the bridge of his nose as he collapses to the floor, a crumpled heap of Nature's Magic personified. With a loud cry the remaining party members who chose to fight directly, something the fighter is more well known for, leap into battle, sickles and swords clashing together in a dramtic display of steel and sparks. Enos' dagger gouges the throat from one of the enemy, gore spewing forth and coating his shirt in a sticky mess, drying quickly as it soaks into the fabric. There is not time to react, however, as the hermit leans forward on his oak staff, stretching one emaciated finger forward, commanding the legion of squirrels to do his bidding. It is you, Salinye, who finds yourself in terrible pain as one attaches his powerful jaws to your neck, tearing at your flesh, the soggy, crimson coated fur of the rodent beating back and forth against the sweat already trickling down your neck. Instinctivly, your hand flashes up to throw the vile thing away from you as you mutter a few divine words and close your wound. This fight seems a little more difficult than you originally thought...

 

That's the kind of gore I can do if I wasn't limited, and if you catch me in one of my sadistic moods... *laughs evilly* It gets much better and much worse...

 

So, in favor of you and my girlfriend, I decided to tone it down. I wouldn't want any of my players smattering their keyboards... though I believe you have a stronger stomach than that. Meow!

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