The Chosen

[civie]

A Poem inspired by 'While Guthix Sleeps' and imagination about the dragons and dragonkin.

 

Added a bit of "possible future storyline developoment"-sauce on top of it to finish it.

 

Enjoy reading ;)

 

 

 

Flight of Many Colours

 

High in the Sky

 

Fiery Breath that burns the ground

 

Dragons thou are

 

 

 

Thy claws, breath and hide

 

They guard thee well

 

Thou fight fierce and fell, yet many fall

 

to the hatred of man

 

 

 

Thou treasures they crave

 

Hard to find as they are

 

They make us more powerfull as thee are

 

Even as frail we normally are

 

 

 

Thou masters created thee

 

While hiding in secret after they flee

 

They scheme and plan all that time

 

And thou guarded them unbeknowst

 

 

 

Now thy masters are revealed

 

And their plans begin to unfold

 

They are hindred by mortals of all races

 

Who guard this world

 

 

 

Their plans crumbling to dust

 

The world trembling of fear

 

Guthix still sleeps and dreams, yet might awake

 

If the Gods return

 

 

 

War will go across Gielinor

 

Ravaging home and hearth

 

Everyone will pay the price, if the Chosen

 

does not rise ...

 

 

 

 

 

Well, what ya' think of it?

[dragoonson]

Don't be discouraged,

 

From lack of any replies,

 

I'll tell you just why.

 

 

 

See,we in Vee-Ell,

 

Probably don't play much now,

 

So we don't get it.

 

 

 

But now for Cee-Cee,

 

I can't see the rhyming scheme.

 

Or is it just me?

 

 

 

In stanza three,see;

 

It goes "crave","are","are" then "are",

 

That's Aye-Bee-Bee-Bee.

 

 

 

You should avoid

 

Using Shakespeare language here,

 

You only changed "you"'s.

 

 

 

How would I do it?

 

Step out of my haikus

 

And I will show you;

 

 

 

 

Thine colors fly

 

Move fast as a dart

 

With thine flaming breath

 

Dragons,thou art

 

 

 

Thy claws and breath,thy hide

 

Guardeth thee well

 

Thou hatred of men foul

 

Sendest them to hell

 

 

 

Thou treasures they crave

 

A greed most vile

 

They maketh a God

 

Of a man fit to eat bile

 

 

 

Thou masters,they create thee

 

But soon after they flee

 

Ever-long they scheme

 

Thou guardeth them cluelessly (Sadly,unbeknownst was a good word the rhyme scheme did not permit)

 

 

 

Now thy masters art revealed

 

And their plans unfold

 

Hindered by mere mortals

 

Aimlessly roaming the world

 

 

 

Their plans crumbleth to dust

 

The world weak from fear

 

Lord Guthix,he sleeps,though he might wake

 

Should the gods return here

 

 

 

War shalst spread over Gielinor,

 

Ravage home and hearth

 

All shalst the price pay,

 

If thine Chosen doth not emerge...

 

 

 

Hope you didn't mind

 

Me changing your poem like that;

 

Its just my Cee-Cee.