Write your own Pellinor story or poem

**Alassë** · February 19th, 2006, 04:20 PM

shall i put my poem about the Hutmoors on here anyway?

**Liana** · February 20th, 2006, 03:13 AM

Yes, please do.

**Alassë** · February 20th, 2006, 03:39 AM

ok here you go though most people will probably have seen it in tips 4 writers

Lament

Desolate beauty rides wild and free,
On branch tops swaying high.
The wind does cry of love now lost
From days which have gone by.

Fair people dwelt within the Light
The Speech born pure inside
High Lore and knowledge they did gain
And realm did justly guide

One from the South arrived and bid
His Gift for them to teach
They offered freely all they knew
And quickly did he seek

Their trusting gaze upon him set
They noticed not desire
Few could guess at his intent
Lying eyes did hide

Talent rose long since denied
Their willing hands did lend
Mastery in binding left
His life blood he did bend

The radiant immortals with sadness fled
Binding forever formed
The Gates now barred another
Though pain was his reward

Cruel rule upon the land did steal
As shadow unseen, night
Light extinguished at the wick
Bright Darkness wrapped mankind

The last despair of man did form
Alliance through their race
To rid high throne of endless foe
Thus Light restored to place

They gathered on the fields of green
An army of the Light
Their freedom, to regain
Or die one final fight

Horses stand as rampant tall
Their hooves which beat the sky
Proud hearts resolved upon the sight
Go fearlessly to die

Cries that ring of fury strong
Caused weeping from the land
It mourns the dead and wandering souls
Felled by pitiless hands

So eyes that stare
And hearts which fade
Lie broken by this strife

Remember all for eternity long
The greed which broke the chains
Now death refused
And life denied
Pure splendour now is slain.

My cuts run deep
My wounds unhealed
Only time can mend me now
Leave me to grieve the departed souls
And guide them to the stars.

Alassë

**peacelily** · February 20th, 2006, 01:04 PM

it is soo gorgeous isn't it?!

**Alassë** · February 20th, 2006, 01:07 PM

thankyou

**peacelily** · February 20th, 2006, 01:18 PM

my pleasure Alasse

from my mouth only the truth shall speak, yet trickery may lie within
heard that somewhere as well

**Alassë** · February 20th, 2006, 01:21 PM

ooo, i like that

**peacelily** · February 20th, 2006, 01:24 PM

dont ask me where it came from, i read too much for my own good!

**Alassë** · February 20th, 2006, 01:25 PM

no, no-one can read too much for their own good

or can they??

**peacelily** · February 20th, 2006, 01:47 PM

hmmm *ponders question*
it isn't very good, but would you like to read the alphabet story i had to write for english?

**Celebriän** · February 20th, 2006, 01:51 PM

yes! i'm really intrigued bythe idea of an alphabet story!

**Alassë** · February 20th, 2006, 01:52 PM

yes, yes, yes, yes, yes PLEASE

**peacelily** · February 20th, 2006, 02:59 PM

okay, but i am not promising anything!

Alone. Bursts of breath dissipating into the air, like wisps of smoke from a single candle; slowly burning into oblivion. Craftily climbing creepers adorn the roughly bricked walls; into a net of brown, bare and scratched, dying from ignorance and lack of light. Drawing up the sword with great ease and yet great care, the cloaked figure glared upon its reflection in the sharply cut blade; cursing the obscenity of the situation that was currently placed upon them; sorely wishing that they were somewhere very far from this dismal place. Even though she, for the cloaked figure was indeed a woman, felt so singular in all this destruction, rising up like blades of grass; stood fleet after fleet of warriors, armed and ready to fight at the sight of just one wave of her sword.
Five seconds; that was all it took for the dismal female to notice the vast armies of dog-soldiers that were advancing towards her; pacing; three steps for just one second, trampling down aything that came to pass in their way. Great hunks of metal protruded form their hands, and encasing their melted skins stood three inches of heavy iron, unbreakable; nevertheless the might of the hand that hits and upon each shield stood an emblem, a curse, an evil sight to those who followed the Light, such as the somewhat unfortuante woman. Heaven and Hell lay both heralded within this emblem, the emblem of the Iron Tower, where every agent of the Dark was born; and grew up mistrusting and hating those of the Light, the Hulls, once good; now empty cases that obey and fight for their own destruction. In this place grew the creatures of the night, of the winter, of the half of the song that was stolen from those pure by the worst Hull among the dreariest imagination, Sharma, the Nameless One, for he cast off his name to escape death, and in return grew greedy and envied those who died, for his life was that of torture, inescapable pain that he only had himself to blame for. Jaded by this Sharma had created his own worst enemy, prphesised by those from the House of Karn, and this undefeated foe lay beneath the cloak that held the sword, prepared to fight for the whole of Annar, with her mentor and brother either side of her, ready and waiting for the smallest twitch from what remained of Sharma's dog-soldiers, which would signal her advance, with her Gift, her power, a blazing light was made to make up for the dregs of colour lying in the sky; blinding those of the Dark and abetting those of the Light.
Kismet could have no part in this battle, scrutinized the woman, and as she heard the war cry from the lyre that was held in the hand of a Hull that was leading the misshaped soldiers, she perfected her posture, raised her sword above her head, and bringing it down as fast as the flashes of lightning that now cracked the sky, she charged, her friends and those she had begun to know and love following behind her, she ran, for she had heard the single note, in just one tiny moment, that had been the wrong note, and she had known this to symbolise the moment of weakness that passed through her enemy. Lakes of Bards of Light fell upon the dog-soldiers, slaying the distorted creatures with fast slashes at their neck (their blind spot) and waded through masses of contorted bodies that were strewn around them, still remaining undivided, strong and with no deaths on their side, only a few scratches from the unruly nails that grew from the claws of the slain.
Moonlight fell gently upon the woman's face as she pushed open the doors that had been badly protected by the disgusting; now all dead, creatures and she slowly slunk into the iron chamber; which narrowed towards an iron throne, upon which was sprawled a figure. Never before had she seen such a strange person, its face was neither old nor young, deep grey eyes protruded from underneath finely cut eyebrows, and as she studied the figure, she walked at a pace as if she was a piece of music, slow and mournful. Opening a door to the left of her, Ardina and Arkan drifted up to her, adjoining her, and upon glancing into Ardina's fey eyes she smiled despite herself, before slowly lifting her gaze to Arkan's immaculate face and piercing blue eyes, causing her heart to skip a beat, regardless of everything that he had done to her, entrapping her in his Ice Palace in Arkan-da. Perfect concetric circles cut into the iron of the throne as the three advanced towards it, during that time, slowly the strange figure that sat on it rose up, reaching high, as if he were a tree.
Quiet. Raining footsteps were strangely dulled by the shining floor, like a mute owl in the middle of the night. Stopping in unison at merely five paces from the figure Ardina, Maerad (the woman) and Arkan cast off their cloaks and glared upon the figure. The three felt their minds adjoin and began to piece together strings of verses from the tongue of the Elidhu to call back Sharma's name, make him fell every single death that he had caused to occur, make him dread what would come to face him in his afterlife and most importantly to make him human again, nothing more; nothing less.
Unruly lights cast from the three showered over the neat, sharp walls; reflecting a hundred times over, making Sharma glow as if light had never before touched his face. Vacant expressions flew across all fours faces, and then Sharma started to writhe in agony, twisting and falling to the floor, flames passed across his eyes before he completely collapsed, breathing heavily into the mirrored floor. Winged images flew through Sharma's mind, and in that instant he knew his fate for all he had done, all the Darkness in the world, and that was to be slain, and then be taken into the care of the winged messengers for the Hell that existed beneath them, feeling the pain repeatedly, but not before he had had his chance. X-ray impressions of Sharma ran through Maerad's mind and beneath his steely exterior and his ironclad determination she could see the fear and turmoil within him. Yet she would not change her mind, if she were to do that she would be risking the lives of everyone who had risked theirs for her, which would break her into pieces. Zephyr ran through Maerad's hair as she drew up her sword again, before executing a perfect blow straight through Sharma's midriff and upon withdrawing it released a sigh of relief before turning and walking out with Ardina and Arkan by her side, leaving Sharma slain at the foot of his throne.