A Poem finds its way to Clar Bandas Alley

  • Vorigan the "Wicked"

    A crude drawing of Vorigan

    Vorigan has a wicked soul,
    He likes to hump the dead
    Digs them from graves of old,
    And takes them to his bed

    Vorigan, a bastard lad,
    Deschurr he will never be
    He tries to be a villain bad,
    Making good men from him flee

    Servant to an ugly “Lord”,
    Desperate for a name
    But all he does, is hide in his “Fort”,
    Crying alone with his shame

    Swing an axe he barely can,
    Our Vorigan the "dread"
    For all his plans,
    Revolve around,
    The the rotting corpse in his bed.

  • Count Manzy
    alt text

    Count Manzy the Runt,
    Had a desperate hunt,
    For a Girl that would him wed

    But Manzy the shunned,
    Was way too blunt,
    All the girls from him had fled

    Count Manzy now sad,
    For being so bad,
    At speaking with the living

    Count Manzy could magic,
    Did something tragic
    A deed most unforgiving

    Manzy casted a spell,
    But It all went to hell
    He consumed a mighty dragon

    Now Manzy is all bone,
    And all alone
    With nothing left to yank on

  • Little Vordi will Hang

    Little Vordi wrote some words,
    Pretended he could rhyme
    Little Vordi with anger bursts,
    When I arrest him for his crimes

    Little Vordi sits alone,
    Playing with his bones
    He'll not be saved by, his goddess the Crone,
    For he has used bloodstones

    Run along, Vordi the wreck
    War is coming to your alley
    Ill cut you down from head to p…
    The forces of good I will rally!

    Know that I, in front will be,
    filling the world with wonder
    Arabel, safe I shall keep thee
    I am Elestra, the sword of Thunder

  • The “Court” Jesters of Old Town

    Manzy's Court consists of “bards”,
    Who write his lies and smell of farts
    They hide within their dusky dens
    Hatching lies,
    like Cyric’s hens

    No one knows their names or deeds,
    All Thugs with pens, but with no grand feats
    Show yourselves, you Manzy’s dogs,
    You are not princes,
    but wart riddled frogs

    My sword shall kiss you, and end your tale
    Against my prowess, you all shall fail,
    Until then, I beg you, no more poems,
    Milil frowns,
    upon poets with long noses

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