Post by Hec Scrivener on Sept 19, 2006 0:28:42 GMT -5
I thought it a good idea to seek immortality through the majesty of old Germanic alliterative split-line verse. I'm not certain what to call this yet - both the Bastardasaga and the Blackmorebastardenlied are inaccurate, as the lied is a different form of poetry, and the saga is prose, but since they harken to the names of two of the three most famous Germanic epics (the third being Beowulf, which isn't really alludable), I'll probably end up with one of them. The alternative is the simple Lay of Blackmore. But enough with the talk; here's the first bit of the Lay:
Hark! Have you heard of the horde of Ridley,
and how that draug-host by heroes was bested?
In their own dismal den with Desire so rank,
the dead were defeated and driven before us.
Shamed by shotguns so sure in their aim,
wielded by warriors well-loved by Odin,
high king of hosts – in his name we slay!
He frowns on the form of flesh-eating dead,
cannibal corpses, and all classy men bids
to go and look good in Glorious Battle,
bring Hideous Death to the heaps of his foe,
those villainous wights who the Valkyries spurn,
and hear not the sounds of the Hall of the Slain,
the revels of Valhall. They rise on Mid-Earth,
and feast on men’s brains – most foul of meals! –
not before Odin’s board bending with mead-horns,
boar freshly roasted, and beefsteak so sweet
alongside their equals, the Einherjar,
and bide for the blast of battle’s last call.
And so they are slain, the savage undead,
by fearless foray of fighters undaunted
to the loathsome lair, looking to forge
a land of the living from the land of the dead.
Incidentally, does anyone know of a way to get the forum not to compress a series of six spaces into one?
Hark! Have you heard of the horde of Ridley,
and how that draug-host by heroes was bested?
In their own dismal den with Desire so rank,
the dead were defeated and driven before us.
Shamed by shotguns so sure in their aim,
wielded by warriors well-loved by Odin,
high king of hosts – in his name we slay!
He frowns on the form of flesh-eating dead,
cannibal corpses, and all classy men bids
to go and look good in Glorious Battle,
bring Hideous Death to the heaps of his foe,
those villainous wights who the Valkyries spurn,
and hear not the sounds of the Hall of the Slain,
the revels of Valhall. They rise on Mid-Earth,
and feast on men’s brains – most foul of meals! –
not before Odin’s board bending with mead-horns,
boar freshly roasted, and beefsteak so sweet
alongside their equals, the Einherjar,
and bide for the blast of battle’s last call.
And so they are slain, the savage undead,
by fearless foray of fighters undaunted
to the loathsome lair, looking to forge
a land of the living from the land of the dead.
Incidentally, does anyone know of a way to get the forum not to compress a series of six spaces into one?
