Post by nassier on Nov 22, 2010 8:35:37 GMT -5
So, one of my favorite things to do is write, and I write a number of things. Poems, stories, songs, etc., so I decided to post some here, for the sake of it.
-
Poem: Nothing but Time
It’s a labor, such a slow job
And it is no one elses, to touch or rob
Every day, into the night, it is my work
So tedious, but I do it with a devious smirk
For soon I shall reap the kernels from the cob
You stand and watch, fear in your eyes
Fear that my work will take you by surprise
But such thoughts are asinine
From a thousand miles away, it’ll make you mine
And no one will hear your cries
It’s brick by brick, and nail for nail
The screws and pikes begin to impale
I’ll fill it with cement, install it’s support
Soon to be done, no ones to contort
As it is magnum opus, my Holy Grail
You grow so stiff, and yet you tremble
Muttering, Sputtering, as you start to ramble
And I cackle at you, so scared and in fright
As it’ll be done in some coming night
And you’ll see your actions start to ripple
I count down, starting from nine
Nine days in consecutive line
You deserve less than ten
As you return to your mother hen
And I have nothing but time
I see shadows creep into the shed
But you stand far from dead
Still crying, whining to flee
Yet my smile is all you’ll see
As I deliver you swift to a stone bed
The door is locked tight and sound
As mistress night makes her ‘round
And you claw at the stones and weep so soft
But soft, I’ll shout, as you gracefully fall from your perched loft
And I’ll glow as you crack against the ground
My work is so close to it’s end
An epitome to my labor, a wound never to mend
I see you no more, a row of stone lays left
Soon I’ll be done, you’re my eternal guest
And it is so dark around the final bend
You’ll have no light, in this life or next
For there is no light in your final rest
I love and hate you so in passion
As I lay the brick in my casual fashion
My lovely exterminated pest
No one can hear you now, one more remains
And I remain happy, so happy, over your pains
So as I slide the last bricks in, I smile down
You’re eyes in the light begin to drown
As you smile back so crazily insane
I sigh, and look, to find mercy inside
So before the final brick does slide
I give you a parting gift, one you desire
A burning light of great size, a blazing fire
And as the last brick goes in, I know you cried
My work is done, and I leave you behind
And you so easily slipped my mind
Trapped in my hell
And for you there shall be no knell
As you remember what it is that you signed.
-
Nassier's Back-story
Born a great deal of years ago, Nassirythalos Berrugessyn Scryalthan, but preferring the informal spelling (Nassier Berrugessen Scarhawk) is a Blood Elf who seems to lack in the corruption of his brethren, for the most part from refusal to partake in the tempering and usage of arcane powers.
His father was a high ranking nobleman, both a high ranking Magister, and a Judicial Magistrate. He was the first of three children, having one brother and one sister. He had always had a strange outlook on the world, seeming to resent the magic his father reveled in, learning more martial skills. His brother and sister soon became mages themselves, attempting to follow in their father's footsteps. Nassier, however, did not, choosing to observe the High Elven priests at work in their tasks. He learned of the Light in an elven definition, in that it is a divine power source awarded to the just and faithful. When he matured enough, he left his home, at this point a near century old, and a good two hundred years before the start of the First War. He traveled across the lands, before heeding the call of a fisherman and trader, and joining a ship's crew. He sailed on the ship for many years, the captain intrigued at his hardiness and warmer attitude compared to most elves. When the human captain died, Nassier was given the ship, seeing as the rest of the crew had grown old, and him not wishing to continue on as a fisherman without the crew and captain he had grown so close to over the years. It was at this point in his life, Nassier became aware of the curse of Elven blood, in that while he may find better company among other races, he will always know their death before his.
Eventually, Nassier sailed south, many years having past. He found refugees fleeing north, chased by hideous creatures, the likes of which he has never seen: Orcs. He provided what he could to assist the victims of this war, before returning to Lordaeron, and learning of the troubles that have transpired in the world. He devoted himself as a soldier to the Allegiance of Lordaeron, proud and somewhat surprised that his people would assist the humans, but overjoyed none the less.
He trained among men, elves, and dwarves alike, enjoying the feel of battle. Eventually, after many conflicts, he learned of the founding of the Knights of the Silver Hand, and once again took interest in the Light. He attended masses, and had discussions with the priests and such. He learned of compassion, tenacity, and respect, he learned of the Light as a force that seeks the betterment of something for the greater good of all. He heard his calling, and began his training as a paladin, in hopes to better the lives of those he has come to know.
Soon enough, he graduated from his training, and joined the fray as the elven crusader he had become. His hand was strong, honing hammer and blade with the fury of justice, but he soon learned of the costs of war. Many of those he trained alongside, friends and comrades died in battle, at the hands of the Horde. But it was not all such, for he saw too, corruption among those he knew to be his allies. Such things deeply disturbed Nassier, and come the end of the war, he continued his work in a church in the North, close to his homelands.
Soon enough, Nassier decided to return home, at this point, it was a few years before the Third War. He learned from his father, who is now the head Magister of the city of Dawnstar, that his brother has fallen out of the Mages, immersing himself completely in the darker arts, while his sister has disappeared, running off to hide away in foreign lands to learn in secret. Nassier set off, investigating where he could for wherever his brother or sister could be.
In his travels, he heard rumors of pestilence, and the dead walking the earth. Confused, and not knowing a course of action, he returned home, seeking council with his father. He decided to stay in Silvermoon, assisting priests and the like. Soon enough, they heard of rumors of the undead legions, and the collapse of Lordaeron. Eventually, the Undead assaulted Quel'thalas, killing thousands upon thousands of his people, and destroying his home.
While Nassier had never had much in common with his own kind, he still knew nothing but despair. His ancestral lands, his people, women and children, innocent souls, slaughtered and raised from the grave as corpses. To his anguish, he survived, now consumed with a hatred unbound. The Prince, now the leader of their people after the fall of his father, led his people, trying to find them salvation.
He assisted in the reclaiming of his homeland, and while the Prince searched for the help of the Alliance, Nassier remained behind, rebuilding his home, until a time came when he left once more, travelling the land, now bearing a new compassion that fueled his power: His People. He saw his people as broken and scared, and swore to do all he can in his mortal power to bring them to a new dawn, even if it means conspiring with those who he once waged war with, years ago.
-
Poem: Nothing but Time
It’s a labor, such a slow job
And it is no one elses, to touch or rob
Every day, into the night, it is my work
So tedious, but I do it with a devious smirk
For soon I shall reap the kernels from the cob
You stand and watch, fear in your eyes
Fear that my work will take you by surprise
But such thoughts are asinine
From a thousand miles away, it’ll make you mine
And no one will hear your cries
It’s brick by brick, and nail for nail
The screws and pikes begin to impale
I’ll fill it with cement, install it’s support
Soon to be done, no ones to contort
As it is magnum opus, my Holy Grail
You grow so stiff, and yet you tremble
Muttering, Sputtering, as you start to ramble
And I cackle at you, so scared and in fright
As it’ll be done in some coming night
And you’ll see your actions start to ripple
I count down, starting from nine
Nine days in consecutive line
You deserve less than ten
As you return to your mother hen
And I have nothing but time
I see shadows creep into the shed
But you stand far from dead
Still crying, whining to flee
Yet my smile is all you’ll see
As I deliver you swift to a stone bed
The door is locked tight and sound
As mistress night makes her ‘round
And you claw at the stones and weep so soft
But soft, I’ll shout, as you gracefully fall from your perched loft
And I’ll glow as you crack against the ground
My work is so close to it’s end
An epitome to my labor, a wound never to mend
I see you no more, a row of stone lays left
Soon I’ll be done, you’re my eternal guest
And it is so dark around the final bend
You’ll have no light, in this life or next
For there is no light in your final rest
I love and hate you so in passion
As I lay the brick in my casual fashion
My lovely exterminated pest
No one can hear you now, one more remains
And I remain happy, so happy, over your pains
So as I slide the last bricks in, I smile down
You’re eyes in the light begin to drown
As you smile back so crazily insane
I sigh, and look, to find mercy inside
So before the final brick does slide
I give you a parting gift, one you desire
A burning light of great size, a blazing fire
And as the last brick goes in, I know you cried
My work is done, and I leave you behind
And you so easily slipped my mind
Trapped in my hell
And for you there shall be no knell
As you remember what it is that you signed.
-
Nassier's Back-story
Born a great deal of years ago, Nassirythalos Berrugessyn Scryalthan, but preferring the informal spelling (Nassier Berrugessen Scarhawk) is a Blood Elf who seems to lack in the corruption of his brethren, for the most part from refusal to partake in the tempering and usage of arcane powers.
His father was a high ranking nobleman, both a high ranking Magister, and a Judicial Magistrate. He was the first of three children, having one brother and one sister. He had always had a strange outlook on the world, seeming to resent the magic his father reveled in, learning more martial skills. His brother and sister soon became mages themselves, attempting to follow in their father's footsteps. Nassier, however, did not, choosing to observe the High Elven priests at work in their tasks. He learned of the Light in an elven definition, in that it is a divine power source awarded to the just and faithful. When he matured enough, he left his home, at this point a near century old, and a good two hundred years before the start of the First War. He traveled across the lands, before heeding the call of a fisherman and trader, and joining a ship's crew. He sailed on the ship for many years, the captain intrigued at his hardiness and warmer attitude compared to most elves. When the human captain died, Nassier was given the ship, seeing as the rest of the crew had grown old, and him not wishing to continue on as a fisherman without the crew and captain he had grown so close to over the years. It was at this point in his life, Nassier became aware of the curse of Elven blood, in that while he may find better company among other races, he will always know their death before his.
Eventually, Nassier sailed south, many years having past. He found refugees fleeing north, chased by hideous creatures, the likes of which he has never seen: Orcs. He provided what he could to assist the victims of this war, before returning to Lordaeron, and learning of the troubles that have transpired in the world. He devoted himself as a soldier to the Allegiance of Lordaeron, proud and somewhat surprised that his people would assist the humans, but overjoyed none the less.
He trained among men, elves, and dwarves alike, enjoying the feel of battle. Eventually, after many conflicts, he learned of the founding of the Knights of the Silver Hand, and once again took interest in the Light. He attended masses, and had discussions with the priests and such. He learned of compassion, tenacity, and respect, he learned of the Light as a force that seeks the betterment of something for the greater good of all. He heard his calling, and began his training as a paladin, in hopes to better the lives of those he has come to know.
Soon enough, he graduated from his training, and joined the fray as the elven crusader he had become. His hand was strong, honing hammer and blade with the fury of justice, but he soon learned of the costs of war. Many of those he trained alongside, friends and comrades died in battle, at the hands of the Horde. But it was not all such, for he saw too, corruption among those he knew to be his allies. Such things deeply disturbed Nassier, and come the end of the war, he continued his work in a church in the North, close to his homelands.
Soon enough, Nassier decided to return home, at this point, it was a few years before the Third War. He learned from his father, who is now the head Magister of the city of Dawnstar, that his brother has fallen out of the Mages, immersing himself completely in the darker arts, while his sister has disappeared, running off to hide away in foreign lands to learn in secret. Nassier set off, investigating where he could for wherever his brother or sister could be.
In his travels, he heard rumors of pestilence, and the dead walking the earth. Confused, and not knowing a course of action, he returned home, seeking council with his father. He decided to stay in Silvermoon, assisting priests and the like. Soon enough, they heard of rumors of the undead legions, and the collapse of Lordaeron. Eventually, the Undead assaulted Quel'thalas, killing thousands upon thousands of his people, and destroying his home.
While Nassier had never had much in common with his own kind, he still knew nothing but despair. His ancestral lands, his people, women and children, innocent souls, slaughtered and raised from the grave as corpses. To his anguish, he survived, now consumed with a hatred unbound. The Prince, now the leader of their people after the fall of his father, led his people, trying to find them salvation.
He assisted in the reclaiming of his homeland, and while the Prince searched for the help of the Alliance, Nassier remained behind, rebuilding his home, until a time came when he left once more, travelling the land, now bearing a new compassion that fueled his power: His People. He saw his people as broken and scared, and swore to do all he can in his mortal power to bring them to a new dawn, even if it means conspiring with those who he once waged war with, years ago.
