Poem as intro to a story I dropped...for now.

by **Ysopet** on 22nd May 2010, 4:46 pm

Tendst was perched high, onlooking a field of death.
His realm was quiet and still,
But growing in exuberance and energy as
He made His final descent into the void .

Out of the cities and the mountains of the north,
Laying hidden from His warming touch,
Crawled the Orcs, the slaves of Death,
Down to the scorched fields of the South.

From the south arose the kingdom in His favor.
Marching in broad ranks to meet
The mortal enemy of life and freedom,
The Dwarves shook the foundations of the world.

Two hundred thousand, and a half hundred thousand more,
The Dwarves unwaveringly defended the field.
Nearly twice their number, shouting distance apart,
Stood a massive and terrifying Vanguard of Destruction.

The Final Battle in the Last Light of Tendst
Offered no retreat, but begged for
The vile death of a thousand slaughtered
Warriors from the deep darkness and scorched light.

In a single moment, the grand armies clashed together
With pain and loss reverberating from
The east coast to the west, between
The northern mountains and the dry southern boundary.

The sounds of clashing steel and screams of death
Split the armies through the middle,
As does the surface along a fault,
Creating two separate masses of determined, tiring warriors.

The ground began to tremble and dust rose from
The frosty north as the Kiver,
The Orcs’ war beasts, joined the fray.
The Dwarves looked to the south in hope.

The darkening field was a mass of broken bodies
Wearing armor of gold and gray,
Holding their swords now shattered and stained,
Soaked in the blood of the two races.

The imminent doom of the Dwarves was now clear,
Yet they still held hope, for
Once again the ground began to quake,
And bursting out were the golden Dwarven reinforcements.

As ants driven from their nest, the Dwarves clambered
From their holes and crawled throughout
The field. From the air loomed two
Shadows: the legendary Stalvans, with the Dwarven King.

A thousand Orcs fell prey to the Stalvans in
The first moments of their arrival.
The King disembarked from his Stalvan; his
Warlord stayed aloft, burning enemies in his wake.

The dust settled, and the victors of the battle
Let their swords finally rest at
At their sides. They stared at
Two figures in the center of the battlefield.

The King of the Orcs stood with his sword
buried deep in the chest of
his foe. His feet were apart
to give him enough balance to stand straight.

The King of the Dwarves stood tall as well,
His sword entrenched in the stomach
Of his opponent. The two kings were
locked in a permanent stance of unforgettable hatred.

As Tendst reached the edge of It’s final descent,
The Dwarven Warlord stood facing the
Two Kings, and watched as Tendst’s Last
Light shone through their locked circle of swords.

Not a single Dwarf who started the war lived
Through it to see it finished.
The losses of the Dwarves was grievous,
But now their victory had finally been complete.