The Lay of Halrekk
Written: 2007
Synopsis: Another Epic Poem
Note: I tried treating caesuras as line breaks here since I can't format them properly. I'm not sure it works
------------
Whisper to the wind,
And if the muse is willing
I'll tell to you
A tale of tales
Of heroes and of heathens
Of the legendary Halrekk
And the doom of Domrill
Dealer of death
Many valiant Vikings
Vied in Modhall
To lead the legions
Against the dark Lord
Who threatened their lands
And their leader and their lives
And Malr was slain
By Modi, son of Magnus
And Dvalin felled the brothers
Bragi and brave Breka
Many lives were lost
And thus fell powerful lords
King Thengil called halt
And the heroes heard
The bickering ceased
And he bid the bard
To speak a tale
Of splendour and spare
No detail of death
Or desire in his sotry.
The bard was new
But had much knowledge and nerve
"Hark! Warriors
Hear this harrowing
Tale, in which I tell
Of terrible tragedy
From Kvasir's spit
Of which I speak shall spring:
The wanderer walked
To the walls of Gotheim
And was welcomed by the king
And his wife, the wer.
Mead was drunk
And many of the men
Slipped into sleep,
Slaves to their drink
But King Weland still heard
The words of the wanderer:
Breaking the silence
He softly said:
"Betrayal strikes from those
Whose truth we trust
You will die by her hand;
No halberds nor huscarls
Will spare you this.
You will die young
Leave her this night
Or your life will be lessened."
Weland was wounded
By the words of the wise-one
"Flarmen is loyal
Loving and learned
She will remain
at my right, no reason
Would drive her away"
"Drink and dream
Never shall you again
Be glad in Gullholl."
The seer vanished
As the sun set.
That morning the woman
Wore her wolfskin
And quickly killed
Her kin: her son
And his father, destroying
The family forever
And Domrill the brave,
Her brother, broke
The gates of Gotheim
And burned the Gullholl
He ploughed salt into the soil
And sailed to lands unknown
But the wound the son
Of Weland took was weak
The vicious blow he survived
And swore his vengeance
Halrekk he was called,
The hero of Hathor
For seven years
He sailed the seas
Earning rewards
And wine and women
He swept off his hood
Halting the hiding
Halrekk stood in Modhall
Magnificent and mighty
"This battle is mine;
I was born to be
The killer of Domrill!
Cold and callous
He stared at the knights
And none had the nerve
To withstand the gaze,
Willful, unwavering.
Thengil slowly rose
And regally replied:
"Warrior of the waves
We welcome you here
We value your aid,
Your valour and vigilance
Is not unknown.
Prove your name
And you shall lead
Our lords to the light."
He handed the hero
And helping of iron.
"This chain has challenged
Fenrir the chosen
Break through Dromi
And my brother you shall be."
His muscles grew mountainous
As he mightily rent
The chain asunder
The chore was no challenge.
The deed was done
And the king decreed:
"The strength of Fenrir
Will strike fear into our foe
You will lead my legions
As a lord of Modholl"
The horns heralded
The way of the host
As they marched
Through muck and mire
To Dolgvoll Green
To deal with Dromrill
The battle long
Many lives were lost
Blood ran on the dirt
From the dead and the dying
Halrekk drove through the press
Driving towards Domrill
His defenses were useless
And Halrekk's uncle was undone.
He threw down his enemy
And thrust at his throat
Thus Domrill died
And forever was he damned.
But Halrekk was not unscatherd
His scars had scars
So many were his wounds
Mightier men
Had lost to less,
But he was losing
His fury spent,
He fell, finished
And was carried from the field
By courtiers of the king
They laid him in a longboat
And set it alight
As it sailed to the sea
King Thengel said:
"Verily, the valkyries
Took him to Valhalla
He was the mightiest
Man in Midgard.
The Einherjar will enjoy
Their new enlistee."
And he walked away
From the women weeping
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Poetry Portfolio III
A Small Selection of Even More Poems
Written: 2007
------------
VISION OF THE DAMNED (Sonnet)
A tortured soul, devoid of all true life,
Its soulless eyes gazing into the fire.
Forgotten by his daughters and his wife;
Fore'er to rot in this eternal pyre.
His hands are gone; his arms are rife with rot,
His legs are trappéd in a mass of stone.
For all his torments, one thing he is not:
In solitude; he'll never be alone.
Six billion souls live here in misery,
With each as misbegotten as the last.
Forever condemned to this fiery sea,
Though all the ages of mankind be past.
I watch them pass and I begin to pray
That I'll return to see the light of day.
--------------------------------------------
NIGHTMARE
Children sleep in silken sheets
thinking of futures.
Silence lies over the wilds.
The lake lies still, no shimmering
light illumines it.
The forest of firs is hidden from the stars.
Shadows lurk in the hills
Waiting to strike --
no gold can buy them off;
no kindness can repel them.
And the children dream...
Written: 2007
------------
VISION OF THE DAMNED (Sonnet)
A tortured soul, devoid of all true life,
Its soulless eyes gazing into the fire.
Forgotten by his daughters and his wife;
Fore'er to rot in this eternal pyre.
His hands are gone; his arms are rife with rot,
His legs are trappéd in a mass of stone.
For all his torments, one thing he is not:
In solitude; he'll never be alone.
Six billion souls live here in misery,
With each as misbegotten as the last.
Forever condemned to this fiery sea,
Though all the ages of mankind be past.
I watch them pass and I begin to pray
That I'll return to see the light of day.
--------------------------------------------
NIGHTMARE
Children sleep in silken sheets
thinking of futures.
Silence lies over the wilds.
The lake lies still, no shimmering
light illumines it.
The forest of firs is hidden from the stars.
Shadows lurk in the hills
Waiting to strike --
no gold can buy them off;
no kindness can repel them.
And the children dream...
Poetry Portfolio II
Another Selection of Poems
Written: 2007
-------
FLOWERS
A happier day is was, long ago
My eyes first fell upon your face
Broken dreams began to heal
Ruined futures built again
On every day I longed to
See you, even just once
I felt that there was hope
And I was not alone
A spark of hope can do so much
Lead you through all woe
Mend any ills you come upon
Or banish every fear
Nothing evil can reach you
Do any harm unto your soul
Don't say it has a chance when it doesn't
Ask not for me to hope
For hope is a beautiful thing
For hope is a painful thing
Only hope can hurt where other weapons cannot reach
Duty holds me to my oaths and I shall always be alone
I never truly said it, and now I must forget I
Loved you
Here I stand, all by myself
Ever and ever, always alone
A hope turned false, a dream
Turned into nothing but a dream
Heaven is out of my reach
Yesterday I thought the world was clean
Eternity looms before me, scarred and torn
Where shall I find peace now?
------------------------------------
THE HUNT
Kak-kak-kak-kak
The shadow beneath my feet looms larger
As the kingsbird soars down from the cliff above.
As the motled gray shoots past my face, I see its eye
The eyes of a hunter
The eyes of a killer
A colony of murres scatters, croaking, as the missil strikes
Kak-kak-kak-kak
Blood sprays into the frozen air
And the gyrfalcon wings its way homeward
Clutching its prize
It's victory echoes across the tundra
Kak-kak-kak-kak
----------------------------------------
THE ROVER
A rover wandering lost his way
Amongst the trees.
As morning waxed he found a path
That lead a way outside
But as he tried to follow,
A voice, serene, spoke out:
"Traveller, go not down this path
For surely thy soul shal die."
Mindful the rover turned back to the trees
But a voice, quite strong, spoke out:
"Traveller, turn not from this path
For surely thy mind shalt perish."
The rover looked toward the path
The rover looked toward the trees
And disappeared into the forest.
Written: 2007
-------
FLOWERS
A happier day is was, long ago
My eyes first fell upon your face
Broken dreams began to heal
Ruined futures built again
On every day I longed to
See you, even just once
I felt that there was hope
And I was not alone
A spark of hope can do so much
Lead you through all woe
Mend any ills you come upon
Or banish every fear
Nothing evil can reach you
Do any harm unto your soul
Don't say it has a chance when it doesn't
Ask not for me to hope
For hope is a beautiful thing
For hope is a painful thing
Only hope can hurt where other weapons cannot reach
Duty holds me to my oaths and I shall always be alone
I never truly said it, and now I must forget I
Loved you
Here I stand, all by myself
Ever and ever, always alone
A hope turned false, a dream
Turned into nothing but a dream
Heaven is out of my reach
Yesterday I thought the world was clean
Eternity looms before me, scarred and torn
Where shall I find peace now?
------------------------------------
THE HUNT
Kak-kak-kak-kak
The shadow beneath my feet looms larger
As the kingsbird soars down from the cliff above.
As the motled gray shoots past my face, I see its eye
The eyes of a hunter
The eyes of a killer
A colony of murres scatters, croaking, as the missil strikes
Kak-kak-kak-kak
Blood sprays into the frozen air
And the gyrfalcon wings its way homeward
Clutching its prize
It's victory echoes across the tundra
Kak-kak-kak-kak
----------------------------------------
THE ROVER
A rover wandering lost his way
Amongst the trees.
As morning waxed he found a path
That lead a way outside
But as he tried to follow,
A voice, serene, spoke out:
"Traveller, go not down this path
For surely thy soul shal die."
Mindful the rover turned back to the trees
But a voice, quite strong, spoke out:
"Traveller, turn not from this path
For surely thy mind shalt perish."
The rover looked toward the path
The rover looked toward the trees
And disappeared into the forest.
Poetry Portfolio I
A Selection of Poems
Written: 2007
----
CLIFFSIDE
The tiger's growl fades as it returns to its lair
The pages of a book are lost in swirling air
to Chaos; O'er the brink it lies
Stretching on through azure skies
The tide rolls in and out
Forever to eternity
Shadows herald coming change
air of water, sea of gas
no edges only transitions
from which time is not exempt
from Death for all things end
in other places that aren't here.
The tide rolls in and out
Forever to eternity.
On the other side things are alive
But behind me lies the drive
From it can cannot escape
I'll leave the cliffside and the cape
The tide rolls in and out
Forever
To eternity
-------------------------------------------
AZURE
The most perfect sapphire in the land
Broken open o'er and o'er
Each time reaching new perfection
Then polished for eons
Scattered brains may hide but never mar it.
The light of sun and stars shines through it.
Engines burn across it yet it heals
It takes your breath; it takes your life
And gives it back in time
Sparkling with new colour when its done.
Is it any question where the gods dwell?
-------------------------------------------------
THE SCYTHER'S SONG
"We are born to die. Men are the dogs of the gods. Through their svbtle prodding, thovsands of vs march for miles across vnknown lands for the sole pvrpose of bringing death to those we hardly know. But we do not fight this, for the gods in their graciovsness have vshered vs towards ovr noble foe, and so we give thanks to Lord Mars and Jvpiter most high for this. I swear by the blood of my kin that by eve tomorrow Hannibal's lifesblood shall be spent on these sands."
-from the last writings of Laurentius of Renwick, 204 B.C.
Broken.
Trampled, yea, ground into the very dust
The blood of foe slipping down your hair
The blood of friend dashed across your face
Meeting, mixing, mingling
When Flavius died, was it like this?
Arrow to the brain.
There.
Gone.
No lingering.
Why dost thou cling, Laurentius?
No chirugeon can mend an elephant's crush
No hawk-eyed friend can find your missing arm
For you have none.
I see your eyes flicker
And I know you hear
the screaming
the bellowing
the hacking
the howling
the dying.
There is nothing left here.
Zama is a wasteland
You remember in Rome
When you heard of Cannae
and Flavius.
You didn't quite believe it.
You never really did.
Is it vengeance that holds you to this world?
You remember Renwick
Holding your mother's corpse
in your cold hands
You were too late then.
You'll never be too late again.
Come with me, Laurentius
Forsake this field of woe.
----------------------------------
THE LAY OF FERELMAR
In ages past, when grass was green
When the sky was clear and people sang
of Heroes
In days gone by when men had honour
When the truth was valued
And you could ride across the land without a fear
When the sea was green and the air was clean
In this time, this eon
Dwelt Ferelmar the Horseman.
He was a tall man, a proud man
The fairest, save for the Death
That smoldered in his hungry eyes.
His horse was Buri, black as night
Swiftest in the realm.
He could outrun anything
Save the spearcast from his master's hand.
One day Ferelmar was riding on the moor
When he met a wand'ring bard
"Hero!" cried the singer, "Wherefore goest thou armed
In this happy fertile land?"
"In Eden," quoth the horseman, "Dwelt the Serpent.
Perfection is but a fancy of the mind."
Straight were his words, but yet foretelling
For by day' end the bard had been attacked by bandits
And carried away.
But Ferelmar was still near
And he heard the ruffians.
At dawn's break he found their trail.
Buri raced over hill and dale, glen and fen,
Until he reached the secret lair.
The bandit's slept, save for a guard
Who soon slept eternal, spear through his heart.
Ferelmar knew the arts of stealth
But no creature can lie sleeping when blood runs on the sand.
Even as the Horseman loosed the bonds
The bandits awoke.
His spear cast, the Horseman
Stabbed and slashed with sword
Driving back his enemy.
Nineteen of them fell slain in the first rush.
They came again
And this time
A full score fell cloven
With the horseman yet un-scarred.
Hero and Bard reached Buri
Who galloped away
Swifter than the Sun
Back to Bardshome.
And Ferelmar rode off, with horse and spear
Ever Westward, as he always did.
And the Bard remained
To sing his tale to all.
Written: 2007
----
CLIFFSIDE
The tiger's growl fades as it returns to its lair
The pages of a book are lost in swirling air
to Chaos; O'er the brink it lies
Stretching on through azure skies
The tide rolls in and out
Forever to eternity
Shadows herald coming change
air of water, sea of gas
no edges only transitions
from which time is not exempt
from Death for all things end
in other places that aren't here.
The tide rolls in and out
Forever to eternity.
On the other side things are alive
But behind me lies the drive
From it can cannot escape
I'll leave the cliffside and the cape
The tide rolls in and out
Forever
To eternity
-------------------------------------------
AZURE
The most perfect sapphire in the land
Broken open o'er and o'er
Each time reaching new perfection
Then polished for eons
Scattered brains may hide but never mar it.
The light of sun and stars shines through it.
Engines burn across it yet it heals
It takes your breath; it takes your life
And gives it back in time
Sparkling with new colour when its done.
Is it any question where the gods dwell?
-------------------------------------------------
THE SCYTHER'S SONG
"We are born to die. Men are the dogs of the gods. Through their svbtle prodding, thovsands of vs march for miles across vnknown lands for the sole pvrpose of bringing death to those we hardly know. But we do not fight this, for the gods in their graciovsness have vshered vs towards ovr noble foe, and so we give thanks to Lord Mars and Jvpiter most high for this. I swear by the blood of my kin that by eve tomorrow Hannibal's lifesblood shall be spent on these sands."
-from the last writings of Laurentius of Renwick, 204 B.C.
Broken.
Trampled, yea, ground into the very dust
The blood of foe slipping down your hair
The blood of friend dashed across your face
Meeting, mixing, mingling
When Flavius died, was it like this?
Arrow to the brain.
There.
Gone.
No lingering.
Why dost thou cling, Laurentius?
No chirugeon can mend an elephant's crush
No hawk-eyed friend can find your missing arm
For you have none.
I see your eyes flicker
And I know you hear
the screaming
the bellowing
the hacking
the howling
the dying.
There is nothing left here.
Zama is a wasteland
You remember in Rome
When you heard of Cannae
and Flavius.
You didn't quite believe it.
You never really did.
Is it vengeance that holds you to this world?
You remember Renwick
Holding your mother's corpse
in your cold hands
You were too late then.
You'll never be too late again.
Come with me, Laurentius
Forsake this field of woe.
----------------------------------
THE LAY OF FERELMAR
In ages past, when grass was green
When the sky was clear and people sang
of Heroes
In days gone by when men had honour
When the truth was valued
And you could ride across the land without a fear
When the sea was green and the air was clean
In this time, this eon
Dwelt Ferelmar the Horseman.
He was a tall man, a proud man
The fairest, save for the Death
That smoldered in his hungry eyes.
His horse was Buri, black as night
Swiftest in the realm.
He could outrun anything
Save the spearcast from his master's hand.
One day Ferelmar was riding on the moor
When he met a wand'ring bard
"Hero!" cried the singer, "Wherefore goest thou armed
In this happy fertile land?"
"In Eden," quoth the horseman, "Dwelt the Serpent.
Perfection is but a fancy of the mind."
Straight were his words, but yet foretelling
For by day' end the bard had been attacked by bandits
And carried away.
But Ferelmar was still near
And he heard the ruffians.
At dawn's break he found their trail.
Buri raced over hill and dale, glen and fen,
Until he reached the secret lair.
The bandit's slept, save for a guard
Who soon slept eternal, spear through his heart.
Ferelmar knew the arts of stealth
But no creature can lie sleeping when blood runs on the sand.
Even as the Horseman loosed the bonds
The bandits awoke.
His spear cast, the Horseman
Stabbed and slashed with sword
Driving back his enemy.
Nineteen of them fell slain in the first rush.
They came again
And this time
A full score fell cloven
With the horseman yet un-scarred.
Hero and Bard reached Buri
Who galloped away
Swifter than the Sun
Back to Bardshome.
And Ferelmar rode off, with horse and spear
Ever Westward, as he always did.
And the Bard remained
To sing his tale to all.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
The Lay of Sædraca
The Lay of Sædraca
Written: 2006
Synopsis: A epic poem about a Norse warrior who encounters peril on the high seas
Note: I'm having trouble formatting the caesuras; sorry.
------
Hark! The whole universe was formed in ages past
From Ymirs corpse so too did Hjorrheim rise from the blood
Of Darren Damirson whose death allied the three tribes of Jutland
But strife came in those glorious halls as Loki's hand was played
The Shield-peace was shattered and many were the fallen
Dvalin and Nori Orm and Vili
Thyam and Erik Sworthin the Spear Thrower
And many more whose names have beeen lost, though their deeds live on
As the green-meat failed to grow the Lord looked elsewhere
Oer the seas to the brighter land
And sent his Thane on a crossing
To seek food to feed his people's open mouths.
Melrakki launched a longship with thirteen mighty men
Calling it Sædraca a name of ill omen
He hastened to Hibernia for conquest and spoils.
On the shark-road they sailed for many days and nights
Until a cloud darkened Ymir's skull blotting out the sun as though the wolf earned his meal
The waves tossed up and hurled the ship about as a toy in the hand of a God
Undaunted Melrakki stood at the fore holding his ground as he was tossed about.
He shook his fist at the wind and invoked the Treehanger
For Odin, the One-Eye, the All-Wise might answer
And dampen the demons of the eternal sea.
And even as he spake the storm retreated to its astral home
And the angry water returned to its soothing rythym
The storm had vanished as completely as Haelend
After he saved the Sverdings from an untimely death
All those years past In the dread winter.
Peace was not to be had for they were not alone
A flying-sheet was on the horizon and moving ever closer
The sigil was of Vandbarr the Kinslayer of Jorgum
The water-horse drew nearer as the warriors readeid their Skjolds
Knowing that this fight may be their last until they joined with Odin in Valhall.
"Kinslayer!" called Melrakki his voice echoing across the water
As that of a Thor calling for a giant in Jotunheim's halls
"What business have you here? Leave us and begone!"
Vandbarr's reply was more biting A swarm of arrows from above
Fell upon the warriors Slaying two noble men who were Melrakki's kin
And then he boats met And Vandbarr's demons swarmed across
Melrakki slew the first And drove his Sverd into another.
Vandbarr bellowed as the Berserkgangr came upon him
Transforming him into a raging bear who barreled forth
Ripping out the hearts Of two warriors and devouring them
Melrakki stood with sverd in hand and took he first drive upon his skjold
Pushing back the demon with the boss
His sverd swung in the air but did not bite
Though Vandmarr's claws tore though his chain
The Thane swung low and the flat of his blade
Took the bear below the knees ssending him to the deck
And seizing his head between two hand Melrakki snapped his neck.
The battle done the enemy corpses
Were turned into the eternal depths
The swiftest route to Hel where they would work on the nail-boat.
The four of Melrakki's warriors who had fallen
Were placed on Vandmarr's boat with their sverds and skjolds.
Their hair was long their nails were trimmed
They lived their life as true warriors.
Then the teller of tales Grettir the Bard
Lifted his lute and began to play
Ragnorok's herald, Baldr Odin's son
Whose death would call the Ragnarok
Could not be allowed to languish in Hel
Hod's hand had shot but Loki had guided
The dart that dealt the final blow
Hermod rode for many leagues
On Slepinir Stallion of Odin
The Seer's Sevant asked for Baldr's release
And was refused by Hel herself
Unless all living things lamented the fair one's passing
So the pantheon passed throughout Asgard and Mitgard
And all the branches of great Yggdrasil
Even in Jotunheim did they lament the death of Baldr
But in one far-off cave slept Thokk the giantess
Whose eyes would shed no tears not even for one so fair
So Baldr languishes in the pi t until the First Day
When he rise and return to the fields of Asgard
With Magni and Modi and Hod his brother
And the world shall be replenished anew
And the torch was put to the boat as it was cast away
And the dead were sent away in the manner of kings
In the sun's last light the ship suddenly collapsed beneath the waves
Pulled down by an almighty arm into the depths.
"They have been taken up by the Valkyries"
said Valern the Young the next to die.
"No," said Melrakki "take up your skjolds
A fell presence is at work here.
They were dragged down not up to the heavenly hall."
For it was no mortal presence that assailed them
It was the Sædraca itself seeking vengeance for its name
The conquering kraken the tentacled horror
The fourth spawn of Loki devil of the gods
and the doom of Melrakki though doomed in itself
Even as skjolds were reborne A massive tentacle lashed from the deep
And grabbed Valern yanking him away
Towards some massive maw beneath the waves
Eight of the appendages latched to the boat
And no sverd nor spear Could unlatch them
With a thunderous crack Louder than Mjollnir
The boat was rent asunder and the water rushed in
Melrakki held on to his sverd and swam toward the monstrous head
A massive tentacle grabbed the viking holding him away from air
With fading breath he plunged his sword into a gigantic eye
Sending massive clouts of red dust into the dark blue
The kraken sunk but its irresitable grip
Dragged Melrakki down the depths
As the world turned back there was a flutter of wings
And an outstretched hand tore Melrakki from his foe's grasp
And pulled him up to Asgard where he fought until the Ragnarok.
Written: 2006
Synopsis: A epic poem about a Norse warrior who encounters peril on the high seas
Note: I'm having trouble formatting the caesuras; sorry.
------
Hark! The whole universe was formed in ages past
From Ymirs corpse so too did Hjorrheim rise from the blood
Of Darren Damirson whose death allied the three tribes of Jutland
But strife came in those glorious halls as Loki's hand was played
The Shield-peace was shattered and many were the fallen
Dvalin and Nori Orm and Vili
Thyam and Erik Sworthin the Spear Thrower
And many more whose names have beeen lost, though their deeds live on
As the green-meat failed to grow the Lord looked elsewhere
Oer the seas to the brighter land
And sent his Thane on a crossing
To seek food to feed his people's open mouths.
Melrakki launched a longship with thirteen mighty men
Calling it Sædraca a name of ill omen
He hastened to Hibernia for conquest and spoils.
On the shark-road they sailed for many days and nights
Until a cloud darkened Ymir's skull blotting out the sun as though the wolf earned his meal
The waves tossed up and hurled the ship about as a toy in the hand of a God
Undaunted Melrakki stood at the fore holding his ground as he was tossed about.
He shook his fist at the wind and invoked the Treehanger
For Odin, the One-Eye, the All-Wise might answer
And dampen the demons of the eternal sea.
And even as he spake the storm retreated to its astral home
And the angry water returned to its soothing rythym
The storm had vanished as completely as Haelend
After he saved the Sverdings from an untimely death
All those years past In the dread winter.
Peace was not to be had for they were not alone
A flying-sheet was on the horizon and moving ever closer
The sigil was of Vandbarr the Kinslayer of Jorgum
The water-horse drew nearer as the warriors readeid their Skjolds
Knowing that this fight may be their last until they joined with Odin in Valhall.
"Kinslayer!" called Melrakki his voice echoing across the water
As that of a Thor calling for a giant in Jotunheim's halls
"What business have you here? Leave us and begone!"
Vandbarr's reply was more biting A swarm of arrows from above
Fell upon the warriors Slaying two noble men who were Melrakki's kin
And then he boats met And Vandbarr's demons swarmed across
Melrakki slew the first And drove his Sverd into another.
Vandbarr bellowed as the Berserkgangr came upon him
Transforming him into a raging bear who barreled forth
Ripping out the hearts Of two warriors and devouring them
Melrakki stood with sverd in hand and took he first drive upon his skjold
Pushing back the demon with the boss
His sverd swung in the air but did not bite
Though Vandmarr's claws tore though his chain
The Thane swung low and the flat of his blade
Took the bear below the knees ssending him to the deck
And seizing his head between two hand Melrakki snapped his neck.
The battle done the enemy corpses
Were turned into the eternal depths
The swiftest route to Hel where they would work on the nail-boat.
The four of Melrakki's warriors who had fallen
Were placed on Vandmarr's boat with their sverds and skjolds.
Their hair was long their nails were trimmed
They lived their life as true warriors.
Then the teller of tales Grettir the Bard
Lifted his lute and began to play
Ragnorok's herald, Baldr Odin's son
Whose death would call the Ragnarok
Could not be allowed to languish in Hel
Hod's hand had shot but Loki had guided
The dart that dealt the final blow
Hermod rode for many leagues
On Slepinir Stallion of Odin
The Seer's Sevant asked for Baldr's release
And was refused by Hel herself
Unless all living things lamented the fair one's passing
So the pantheon passed throughout Asgard and Mitgard
And all the branches of great Yggdrasil
Even in Jotunheim did they lament the death of Baldr
But in one far-off cave slept Thokk the giantess
Whose eyes would shed no tears not even for one so fair
So Baldr languishes in the pi t until the First Day
When he rise and return to the fields of Asgard
With Magni and Modi and Hod his brother
And the world shall be replenished anew
And the torch was put to the boat as it was cast away
And the dead were sent away in the manner of kings
In the sun's last light the ship suddenly collapsed beneath the waves
Pulled down by an almighty arm into the depths.
"They have been taken up by the Valkyries"
said Valern the Young the next to die.
"No," said Melrakki "take up your skjolds
A fell presence is at work here.
They were dragged down not up to the heavenly hall."
For it was no mortal presence that assailed them
It was the Sædraca itself seeking vengeance for its name
The conquering kraken the tentacled horror
The fourth spawn of Loki devil of the gods
and the doom of Melrakki though doomed in itself
Even as skjolds were reborne A massive tentacle lashed from the deep
And grabbed Valern yanking him away
Towards some massive maw beneath the waves
Eight of the appendages latched to the boat
And no sverd nor spear Could unlatch them
With a thunderous crack Louder than Mjollnir
The boat was rent asunder and the water rushed in
Melrakki held on to his sverd and swam toward the monstrous head
A massive tentacle grabbed the viking holding him away from air
With fading breath he plunged his sword into a gigantic eye
Sending massive clouts of red dust into the dark blue
The kraken sunk but its irresitable grip
Dragged Melrakki down the depths
As the world turned back there was a flutter of wings
And an outstretched hand tore Melrakki from his foe's grasp
And pulled him up to Asgard where he fought until the Ragnarok.
Crossing the Rubicon
Crossing the Rubicon
Written: 2006
Synopsis: A private eye gets set up
----
Sometimes you turn on the TV in the middle of the afternoon. It means you’re bored to tears, but there’s nothing better to do then rot your mind. The same television shows are running on a loop. It’s a different show every time, to be sure, but its always the same story. And in every story, there’s a tall, dark, stranger. The kind of man whose face you never see, the one who shows up at your door at night, asks some questions and leave. The man who shoots first and asks questions later, like a modern-day Clint Eastwood. That man is me.
It's raining outside. It's always raining. The weatherman comes on the telly every morning, going on about "percentages of precipitation" and all sorts of technical mumbo jumbo, but all he's saying is that it's going to rain. Again. It's always raining.
My name's Darrel McCrimmon. I've been living in this city for almost three years now, and I don't think I've seen a clear sky since I left Scotland.
Still, a wee bit of water is always a good excuse to visit the bar. A stiff drink and a bar of chocolate always makes the day seem a bit dryer. And there's no better place for information.
I'm an investigator. Some people call me a private eye, and I laugh at them. I have two eyes, you see, so I'm twice as good. And twice as expensive, but you get what you pay for.
I'm on the job today. Some dame got her diamonds pinched by a mugger. Rich girl like her ought to learn to keep her jewelry hidden, but then where would I be? Living on the street somewhere, not that my apartment's much better. Anyways, its damned hard trying to find two men in a city of thousands when all you have is a picture to go by.
I slip into a barstool and slip Lenny a fivespot. "The usual." Lenny nods and passes me a glass and a bar. "Say, Lenny..." He looks up from an empty glass he's been wiping. "I gotta case. You seen either o' these fellas?" I slip the crude drawing across the bar.
"Yeah," he says, "That's One-Eyed Fred." He leans forward conspiritorily, "You can tell cause he's only got the one eye."
Day's starting to look brighter already. "You know where he lives?"
"27th and Bryce. What'd he do now?"
"Pinched some shinies. I won't hurt him too bad." I slip him another fivespot for the scoop and leave. My glass is still full, but you can't let a lead go cold. And if the dame pays up, the price of a beer isn't going to be a problem.
The buildings loom over my head like unflinching gods as I make my way up Bryce street, their gloomy windows staring into my very soul. The rain has slowed to almost a drizzle, and it pools in the crease of my fedora. I slog through the gloomy streets and watch the eccentricities of the ants. Here, a shopper tries vainly to shield her purchases from the rain. There, a drunkard argues with an SUV. I glance at the streetsigns as they go by. 21st. 22nd. 23rd. The numbers rise in a steady rhythym, mingled with the ceaseless torrent. 24th. 25th. 26th. I reach into my inner pocket and pull out my glock. Subterfuge is a lost art. 27th.
The street corner has an old Amoco station, a Dunkin-Donuts, a Walgreens, and an old warehouse. I check out the warehouse first. I knock on the large wooden door. No answer. I shout. Still no answer. I try the handle, but it's locked. My Glock makes a good lockpick, even if its a bit noisy. The door swings open easily.
The place has been ransacked. Papers are scattered everywhere, and a rather large cabinet has been knocked over. The oven is still on, and there's a bowl of cereal on the table. Somebody left here in a hurry. I reach over to turn of the often.
My hand is just barely on the dial when I feel cold metal on the back of my head. I put my hands up slowly. "Hello, Fred,"
"That's right, Inspector. How about you keep your hands up and lets have a nice little chat,
shall we?"
I turn around slowly, my eyes falling upon my Glock, lying abandoned on the table near the cereal where I set it when I went to turn off the oven. Fred is a well-muscled man with a wide face and a buzz cut. "I'm sure we can be civil about this."
He grunts, and gestures to the chair with the gun. I sit down slowly, and he ties my hands and legs. "Come now, can't we come to a deal?" Fred only glares at me, "If you just gave me back the diamonds I'm sure I could come up with some monetary recompense--"
He laughs. "There are no diamonds," he says bluntly.
"But I was hired-"
"It was a ruse. Sheila, say hello to our guest." A women, clad in a blue dress with long blonde hair steps out of a backroom.
"Hello, Mr. McCrimmon. Are you comfortable?" It's the dame who hired me in the first place.
"You filthy low-down wh-" I strain at the ropes.
"Language, Mr. McCrimmon," she coos, "Please try to be dignified on your final day alive." She picks up an old piece of wood that looks like it fell off the rotting wall. She holds it over the oven until it ignites, then drops it on the floor, which catches flame. "Oops, I dropped it," she giggles, "Have a nice death, Mr. McCrimmon. I'll be seeing you." She walks out the door.
"Or not," growls Fred, with a one last glare at me before he follows her.
I was a boy scout once, a long time ago. I never made it past Tenderfoot. Wish I had. Then I might know something about how to untie a knot. As it is, I seem to be totally screwed. Unless...
I shift in the chair, scooting across the floor away from the flames. I have to do this just right...
The fire reaches my glock. As the flames roar up along the table, the bullet in the chamber began to superheat....
And nothing happens. Blast it. The flames are too close. I blow on them, but to no avail.
BLAM!
The Glock fires, and the bullet passes through rope and chair leg, freeing my legs. I just had my timing off, that's all. With a good backwards kick, the old chair falls apart and I can slip my hands free. I dodge a burning timber. Wrapping my hand in my trenchcoat, I grab my Glock and dive out the door just as the warehouse collapses.
As I sit in front of the ashes in a cloud of smoky rain, thoughts meander through my head. Why were they trying to kill me? And how did he know I was going to be there? Unless there was a third man in that nefarious trio, one whom would lead me in the right direction, send me unknowing into my doom....
"You’ve crossed the Rubicon, Lenny,"
The bar is closed, and the patrons have left. Only me, Lenny, and Buster are left. Buster is my Glock. Lenny is behind the bar, I'm on the other side. Buster is between us, his muzzle in the bartender's throat.
"I have no idea what you're talking about, Darrel."
"The Rubicon. When Caeser crossed it, it was his final act of treachery, forcing Rome to take action," I press Buster further into the folds of his skin, "You sold me out. Ratted on me. I want to know why. How much did they pay you?"
“If I’m Caeser, then, you’re Pompey,” he says slowly
“I guess I am.”
“Pompey died. Caeser won.”
There’s only one thing I hate worse then a traitor, and that’s a man who twists my words against me. “Let’s change times, then. I’m thinking Ides of March.”
BLAM!
There's a searing pain in my left arm as something slams into it. I spin and fire three times at the new assailant. Sheila falls, her blue dress stained with red.
A left hook from Lenny drops me to the floor. I taste blood in my mouth, and I don't mouth. "Why, Lenny?"
"Fred, take his gun," says Lenny. Fred steps out from the shadows, too, and takes my Glock.
"Well, well, the gang's all here. Now will someone tell me what this is all about?"
"Richard Montalesci's out of jail, Darrel," says Lenny, "and he's mad at you for busting his Alkali Lake ring. He's offering a million for your head. That's too much to resist."
"A million!" roars Fred, "You were only payin' Sheil' and me 250 grand."
"I would have paid you more, but--"
"You lying bastard!" BLAM! Lenny taks the slug in a belly and he's down beside me. "And now to end your meddling influence once and for all." The Glock swings round to point at me.
"I'm sorry, lad," I say.
"Too late for apologies, McCrimmon." He pulls the trigger.
"I'm sorry for being out of ammo." I kick out with my leg and send him spilling to the floor with a thud. I dive for the bar and grab an empty shot glass. Fred's flailing hand grabs my wounded arm and I can't help but scream. Screaming or no, I manage to bring the glass down on his head. The glass shatters and his eyes roll up. He falls, releasing my arm. I take Buster from his limp hands and holster it.
I check pulses; all three of them are alive, even Sheila. I put my fedora back on as I move behind the bar. I take up the phone and ring up the station. I tell the cops I have three wounded suspects, and the chief says he'll be right over.
I won't be here when he arrives. I'll be on the docks, looking for Montalesci. No one puts a bounty on my head unless they want me to come looking for them. That means it's a trap, and I love springing traps. Rather a hobby of mine, come to think of it. Ah well, the night is young, and it's still raining.
Written: 2006
Synopsis: A private eye gets set up
----
Sometimes you turn on the TV in the middle of the afternoon. It means you’re bored to tears, but there’s nothing better to do then rot your mind. The same television shows are running on a loop. It’s a different show every time, to be sure, but its always the same story. And in every story, there’s a tall, dark, stranger. The kind of man whose face you never see, the one who shows up at your door at night, asks some questions and leave. The man who shoots first and asks questions later, like a modern-day Clint Eastwood. That man is me.
It's raining outside. It's always raining. The weatherman comes on the telly every morning, going on about "percentages of precipitation" and all sorts of technical mumbo jumbo, but all he's saying is that it's going to rain. Again. It's always raining.
My name's Darrel McCrimmon. I've been living in this city for almost three years now, and I don't think I've seen a clear sky since I left Scotland.
Still, a wee bit of water is always a good excuse to visit the bar. A stiff drink and a bar of chocolate always makes the day seem a bit dryer. And there's no better place for information.
I'm an investigator. Some people call me a private eye, and I laugh at them. I have two eyes, you see, so I'm twice as good. And twice as expensive, but you get what you pay for.
I'm on the job today. Some dame got her diamonds pinched by a mugger. Rich girl like her ought to learn to keep her jewelry hidden, but then where would I be? Living on the street somewhere, not that my apartment's much better. Anyways, its damned hard trying to find two men in a city of thousands when all you have is a picture to go by.
I slip into a barstool and slip Lenny a fivespot. "The usual." Lenny nods and passes me a glass and a bar. "Say, Lenny..." He looks up from an empty glass he's been wiping. "I gotta case. You seen either o' these fellas?" I slip the crude drawing across the bar.
"Yeah," he says, "That's One-Eyed Fred." He leans forward conspiritorily, "You can tell cause he's only got the one eye."
Day's starting to look brighter already. "You know where he lives?"
"27th and Bryce. What'd he do now?"
"Pinched some shinies. I won't hurt him too bad." I slip him another fivespot for the scoop and leave. My glass is still full, but you can't let a lead go cold. And if the dame pays up, the price of a beer isn't going to be a problem.
The buildings loom over my head like unflinching gods as I make my way up Bryce street, their gloomy windows staring into my very soul. The rain has slowed to almost a drizzle, and it pools in the crease of my fedora. I slog through the gloomy streets and watch the eccentricities of the ants. Here, a shopper tries vainly to shield her purchases from the rain. There, a drunkard argues with an SUV. I glance at the streetsigns as they go by. 21st. 22nd. 23rd. The numbers rise in a steady rhythym, mingled with the ceaseless torrent. 24th. 25th. 26th. I reach into my inner pocket and pull out my glock. Subterfuge is a lost art. 27th.
The street corner has an old Amoco station, a Dunkin-Donuts, a Walgreens, and an old warehouse. I check out the warehouse first. I knock on the large wooden door. No answer. I shout. Still no answer. I try the handle, but it's locked. My Glock makes a good lockpick, even if its a bit noisy. The door swings open easily.
The place has been ransacked. Papers are scattered everywhere, and a rather large cabinet has been knocked over. The oven is still on, and there's a bowl of cereal on the table. Somebody left here in a hurry. I reach over to turn of the often.
My hand is just barely on the dial when I feel cold metal on the back of my head. I put my hands up slowly. "Hello, Fred,"
"That's right, Inspector. How about you keep your hands up and lets have a nice little chat,
shall we?"
I turn around slowly, my eyes falling upon my Glock, lying abandoned on the table near the cereal where I set it when I went to turn off the oven. Fred is a well-muscled man with a wide face and a buzz cut. "I'm sure we can be civil about this."
He grunts, and gestures to the chair with the gun. I sit down slowly, and he ties my hands and legs. "Come now, can't we come to a deal?" Fred only glares at me, "If you just gave me back the diamonds I'm sure I could come up with some monetary recompense--"
He laughs. "There are no diamonds," he says bluntly.
"But I was hired-"
"It was a ruse. Sheila, say hello to our guest." A women, clad in a blue dress with long blonde hair steps out of a backroom.
"Hello, Mr. McCrimmon. Are you comfortable?" It's the dame who hired me in the first place.
"You filthy low-down wh-" I strain at the ropes.
"Language, Mr. McCrimmon," she coos, "Please try to be dignified on your final day alive." She picks up an old piece of wood that looks like it fell off the rotting wall. She holds it over the oven until it ignites, then drops it on the floor, which catches flame. "Oops, I dropped it," she giggles, "Have a nice death, Mr. McCrimmon. I'll be seeing you." She walks out the door.
"Or not," growls Fred, with a one last glare at me before he follows her.
I was a boy scout once, a long time ago. I never made it past Tenderfoot. Wish I had. Then I might know something about how to untie a knot. As it is, I seem to be totally screwed. Unless...
I shift in the chair, scooting across the floor away from the flames. I have to do this just right...
The fire reaches my glock. As the flames roar up along the table, the bullet in the chamber began to superheat....
And nothing happens. Blast it. The flames are too close. I blow on them, but to no avail.
BLAM!
The Glock fires, and the bullet passes through rope and chair leg, freeing my legs. I just had my timing off, that's all. With a good backwards kick, the old chair falls apart and I can slip my hands free. I dodge a burning timber. Wrapping my hand in my trenchcoat, I grab my Glock and dive out the door just as the warehouse collapses.
As I sit in front of the ashes in a cloud of smoky rain, thoughts meander through my head. Why were they trying to kill me? And how did he know I was going to be there? Unless there was a third man in that nefarious trio, one whom would lead me in the right direction, send me unknowing into my doom....
"You’ve crossed the Rubicon, Lenny,"
The bar is closed, and the patrons have left. Only me, Lenny, and Buster are left. Buster is my Glock. Lenny is behind the bar, I'm on the other side. Buster is between us, his muzzle in the bartender's throat.
"I have no idea what you're talking about, Darrel."
"The Rubicon. When Caeser crossed it, it was his final act of treachery, forcing Rome to take action," I press Buster further into the folds of his skin, "You sold me out. Ratted on me. I want to know why. How much did they pay you?"
“If I’m Caeser, then, you’re Pompey,” he says slowly
“I guess I am.”
“Pompey died. Caeser won.”
There’s only one thing I hate worse then a traitor, and that’s a man who twists my words against me. “Let’s change times, then. I’m thinking Ides of March.”
BLAM!
There's a searing pain in my left arm as something slams into it. I spin and fire three times at the new assailant. Sheila falls, her blue dress stained with red.
A left hook from Lenny drops me to the floor. I taste blood in my mouth, and I don't mouth. "Why, Lenny?"
"Fred, take his gun," says Lenny. Fred steps out from the shadows, too, and takes my Glock.
"Well, well, the gang's all here. Now will someone tell me what this is all about?"
"Richard Montalesci's out of jail, Darrel," says Lenny, "and he's mad at you for busting his Alkali Lake ring. He's offering a million for your head. That's too much to resist."
"A million!" roars Fred, "You were only payin' Sheil' and me 250 grand."
"I would have paid you more, but--"
"You lying bastard!" BLAM! Lenny taks the slug in a belly and he's down beside me. "And now to end your meddling influence once and for all." The Glock swings round to point at me.
"I'm sorry, lad," I say.
"Too late for apologies, McCrimmon." He pulls the trigger.
"I'm sorry for being out of ammo." I kick out with my leg and send him spilling to the floor with a thud. I dive for the bar and grab an empty shot glass. Fred's flailing hand grabs my wounded arm and I can't help but scream. Screaming or no, I manage to bring the glass down on his head. The glass shatters and his eyes roll up. He falls, releasing my arm. I take Buster from his limp hands and holster it.
I check pulses; all three of them are alive, even Sheila. I put my fedora back on as I move behind the bar. I take up the phone and ring up the station. I tell the cops I have three wounded suspects, and the chief says he'll be right over.
I won't be here when he arrives. I'll be on the docks, looking for Montalesci. No one puts a bounty on my head unless they want me to come looking for them. That means it's a trap, and I love springing traps. Rather a hobby of mine, come to think of it. Ah well, the night is young, and it's still raining.
Death on the Wind
Death on the Wind
Written: 2005
Synopsis: A pirate shanty, originally used as an introduction to another work.
----
Written: 2005
Synopsis: A pirate shanty, originally used as an introduction to another work.
----
The crew o' the Quinn were a haughty folk
Ready an' willin' t' kill
So they set t' sail oer th' mighty sea
Scoffin' their fruit an' swill
Don't mind the draught, boys, 'tis death on the wind!
Miles from shore they lost their bluster
And as such spoke the mate,
"We're a target for pirates," he said t' th' crew
"Let's go back afore its too late!"
Don't mind the draught, boys, 'tis death on the wind!
Fer we was upon 'em like dogs t' a bone
And oh there was such a row!
Them rotters fought back like th' cowards they were,
But 'ow we did 'em we'll tell ye right now!
Don't mind the draught, boys, 'tis death on the wind!
I skewered the bosun!
I decapped the cook!
We gutted the cap'n w' an old fishin' hook!
We tied up th' gunners
An' left 'em t' die
Threw th' mates o'erboard
T' see'f they could fly!
Don't mind the draught, boys, 'tis death on the wind!
Don't mind the draught, boys, 'tis death on the wind!
Ready an' willin' t' kill
So they set t' sail oer th' mighty sea
Scoffin' their fruit an' swill
Don't mind the draught, boys, 'tis death on the wind!
Miles from shore they lost their bluster
And as such spoke the mate,
"We're a target for pirates," he said t' th' crew
"Let's go back afore its too late!"
Don't mind the draught, boys, 'tis death on the wind!
Fer we was upon 'em like dogs t' a bone
And oh there was such a row!
Them rotters fought back like th' cowards they were,
But 'ow we did 'em we'll tell ye right now!
Don't mind the draught, boys, 'tis death on the wind!
I skewered the bosun!
I decapped the cook!
We gutted the cap'n w' an old fishin' hook!
We tied up th' gunners
An' left 'em t' die
Threw th' mates o'erboard
T' see'f they could fly!
Don't mind the draught, boys, 'tis death on the wind!
Don't mind the draught, boys, 'tis death on the wind!
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