Excerpts from a Poet's lament.   Posted by Guildmaster.Group: 0
 GM, 27 posts
Sun 14 Sep 2008
at 02:11
Excerpts from a Poet's lament
This thread belongs to Yorgorov

Cider and cheap mead
What can you tell of one's deeds?
Of a past that is broken
And of a life rarely spoken

For the poet known only as Yorgorov
What does the world know him for?
With fame and fortune in the past
How long will this fallen man last

Perhaps his lament will finally be heard
If he puts his thoughts to words
A revelation is waiting to arrive
And then perhaps, Yorgorov might survive

This message was last edited by the GM at 02:11, Sun 14 Sept 2008.

Yorgorov Varakzy
 player, 18 posts
 Dark eyed poet
Mon 15 Sep 2008
at 01:07
Re: Excerpts from a Poet's lament
A small candle sits on the table. There are a few sheets of blank parchment, a quill and a small well of dark ink beside it. The air in the room is still, muffled sounds from downstairs can be heard if one listens. The candle flickers as the figure enetrs the room, he is hooded, the shadows dancing over his dark and bearded face. He sits down at the table, setting a bottle down beside the ink well. He wets the nib of the quill, dips it in the ink and begins to scratch at the parchment. The sound is comforting to him, having carried him thoguh many years and many different tales. Nobody downstairs will miss the old man, at least not for as long ass it will take for him to begin his writings. As the quill moves faster and faster and the words begin to take shape he conjours the images of his setting, the glittering sliver towers of Korskoya.
Yorgorov Varakzy
 player, 20 posts
 Dark eyed poet
Tue 16 Sep 2008
at 21:40
Re: Excerpts from a Poet's lament
From castles tall on mountains high
Nobles keep a watchful eye
Over rivers fast and ice capped peaks
Of sheer cliffs and forests deep

The people of this secluded place
Stand tall and thin with elfin grace
Silken tones and fair blue eyes
Make Korskhan maids a worthy find

What the men of this realm acquire
They fight for with a fervent fire
Never more so than for their greatest prize
Their mothers, daughters, sisters and wives

Yorgorov Varakzy
 player, 25 posts
 Dark eyed poet
Sun 21 Sep 2008
at 21:30
Re: Excerpts from a Poet's lament
The wind coming down from the mountains was cold and crisp and the sunlight was bright. The young poet Varakzy wandered idly for a while, toying with a few new verses he was composing. his last offering to the court, Revelations of the Wyld, had been received with pleasant enough humour. He had planned for it to be the first in a trilogy of poems encompasing the essence of nature, each of the works in the portfolio would grow in intensity and craft, as the birth of a hurricane is preceded at first by a gentle breeze. The savage heart and unrelenting power of his homeland had taken his imagination in a grip of elemental wonder. Korskoya was a harsh corner of the world and dark in places but it was a country not feral and violent but infused with nature's most vital energies. Varakzy was sure that the culmination of the trilogy would be a pivotal point in his career. It was the perfect time, with life about to explode with possibilities, and he had chosen this place with particlar care.

The girl walked a few paces behind him, she was humming to herself one of the old tunes. The way her raven black hair fell over her shoulder never failed to stop Varakzy's breath and even knowing she was near was intoxicating. She would no doubt feature heavily in his upcomming works, the fae Spirit of the Night perhaps, the Song on the Wind, or Maiden of Storms perhaps. She absent mindedly plucked petal from a small purple wild rose she had found somewhere, enjoying the walk and it's distration from the gossips and bores of the court.

They found their way to the small river he had played in as a boy, it was tucked away behind a small grove of apple trees and berry bushes. Many were the hour he had spent in his youth fighting dragons, rescuing lost queens and fortifying many a castle or keep. It still held the same magic for him now and he sensed she felt it too, the unsung melody in the air and the peace infused in the place. In the sometimes severe and unkind realm of Korskoya this was a haven of singular beauty. A beausty, in his eyes, only matched by that of the girl.

She gazed around breathing long and deep, then she knelt down and took a small sip from the water of the river, it was like honeyed silk in her mouth and like liquid silver running down her throat. She turned to see him kneeling beside her, something vulnerable and unsure in his eyes.

Sveta, it seems that for once I'm lost for words and... And I have so much to say. Oh. I rehearsed this a thousand times in front of the mirror and I can't remember and word of it. You are the only one my poems are for.

Without you they would be nothing, and neither would I. What I mean is, you are the core of me, and I know that if all else were to crumble and fade I would still love you with the passion of the gods and that would carry me through anything.

Listen to me, I sound like a dumbstruck novice writer trying too hard to write a bad romance. Sveta, will you marry me?

Svetlana was taken aback by the intimacy she saw in him, his usual commanding and confidant demeanour stripped away. In it's place she saw something timid. something so pure in it's truth she forgot all else around her.

I... I will. Of course I will you silly thing! Get off your knees.
She made to embrace him and he held her in his strong arms and at that moment she knew there would never be anyone else in the world that would make her feel this way. As he held her all she could do was whisper his name into his ear.


This message was last edited by the player at 21:33, Sun 21 Sept 2008.

Yorgorov Varakzy
 player, 30 posts
 Dark eyed poet
Sun 28 Sep 2008
at 17:41
Re: Excerpts from a Poet's lament
The old man relaxed his hand on the quill, the aged skin of his hand resembling the parchment itself. He looked at it and thought back to his ytounger days, days when he was strong and fast, now the only speed he had left was his wit. His mind was still as sharp as the day he first breathed air.

The candle flickered playfully as the wind blew through the window. The heavy curtain not quite pulled far enough but the breeze was refreshing enough. The noise from the room below had spilled out into the street as well it seemed and since the party was in full swing he would have time to write a little more before returning.

He smiled to himself as he considered the story to come, one brother's love and the other's folly. Seemingly small actions that had consequenses far beyond the participants consideration. But at this point, the old man knew, it was a time of celebration. For now young lovers, fame and brotherhood held sway in hearts and minds.

For now.
Yorgorov Varakzy
 player, 37 posts
 Dark eyed poet
Sun 12 Oct 2008
at 10:28
Re: Excerpts from a Poet's lament
And so dear friends with love we set our secene.
Beauty and truth flow like a river fast,
Twixt mountains towering and forrests green
We still have yet to see the die be cast.
Aleksi has his new found bride to be
While another Varakzy waits for his chance.
Riches, prestige, the rewards of glory
Will yet rear their ugly heads in this dance.
While all is well and good at this young hour
A frinedly rivalry will soon turn sour,
What starts as nought but innocent desire
Will turn a brother's love to bitter'st ire.

This message was last edited by the player at 00:35, Tue 28 Oct 2008.

Yorgorov Varakzy
 player, 48 posts
 Dark eyed poet
Tue 28 Oct 2008
at 01:35
Re: Excerpts from a Poet's lament
So it's come to this? I expected better of you Yorgi, I really am disappointed.

Aleksi held the sword pointed toward his younger brother's throat, the sweat dripping off of his brow. His right hand shook slightly as it gripped the hilt of the sword and his left could barely keep hold of the dagger, such was his exhaustion, but Aleksi Varakzy was not one to give up on a course once set upon it. He would no more, could no more, show mercy than a hurricane could change it's course. Like all Korskhans, Aleksi's passion was almost an elemntal force made flesh.

You have me this time brother, but one day you shall beg for my leniancy.

Aleksi thrust his sword forward. The sword fell from Yorgorov's hand. It fell to the floor with a grim finality. A single drop of blood followed and crowned on the stone tiles beside it. The clatter of steel upon stone echoed throughout the hall.

Well, aren't you going to help me up?

Aleksi laughed and held out his hand which his brother took firmly and pulled on to regain his footing. With his other hand he wiped away the pinprock of blood drawn by his brother's blade. It was common place for Aleksi to win their duels and that afternoon had been no exception, although this had been closer than most and both men were in dire need of immediate refreshment. Leaning on each other, both on the brink of collapse they made their way out of the dueling hall and down towards the lounge, laughing and still verbally sparring as they went.

Of course you know I had to go easy on you. Sveta would have killed me if I'd damaged you.

If you want to attribute your sound beating at my hands to fear of a woman then be my guest Yorgi.

That I shall Aleksi for it is well known far and wide that Svetlana Varakzi is more fearsome than the Vendigo, when the mood takes her. I fear indeed what she would do to me if I'd upset her. Look how you turned out and you only married her!

Honestly brother, not yet two years are you wed and you are a changed man. One might almost call you respectable now.

Well I believe that I have changed for the better, and besides you are more than enough of a rogue for the both of us. How many noblemen would pay to have your whisky poisoned if they knew about your "adventures" with their daughters?

Well if you speak of the adventures of Yorgorov the Pirate then three score bountyous treasure chests have I uncovered in my travels on the high seas.

This message was last edited by the player at 15:19, Wed 29 Oct 2008.