swordandsandle
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Jul 23, 2010
- Posts
- 1,781
The Lure of Loth
Far away from the deep dwarf mines, far from the seas of snow,
Many leagues from this little town in a land that none still know,
A forest lies under high pearl clouds, and within the trees they dwell,
An elven city, though once quite free, that fell to the Nine Hells.
Once temples shone like sun upon the sharp hoe head,
Corellan’s holy beacon, of which all beasts felt dread.
And homes of warped and tender wood, and stores of bread and mead,
Yet now the people, they are lost, all due to one elf’s greed.
One shining dawn, at sun’s first light, the council met the kings
East and west of wood they ruled, each with land and things.
The first was titled Harkthood, the mage lord of the east,
Frail but kind, he loyally stood, with elf ‘gainst any beast.
The other, simply Untar, stood fiercely for the west,
Though he said he cared for his people, Harkthood he repressed.
The kings, though never best of friends,
Were forced to work toward equal ends.
For from the southern hills they came,
Under one banner, chanting one name.
The orcish horde, so strong and fierce, tattooed with Grummsh’s eye,
With axe in hand and hide on back, to slay the elves they try.
Harkthood spoke “We need a plan, bring me to the library.”
While Untar simply said “the orcs are not so scary”
For countless dawns and countless dusks, oh did Harkthood toll
Requesting bard, scrawling lines, and reading every scroll
He called his people to the city, Astern it was named,
“I have a plan, the elves are strong, take the right!” proclaimed
The elven warriors strung their bows, and wood for flint was charred,
And every magus of the woods they came. Sorcerer, Wizard, Bard.
The people from the west came too, with blade and spell and bow.
But Untar, in name of illness, did not come in tow.
With valor this army marched out, Corellon’s crescent high,
And to the edge of tree and trail, oh their feet did fly.
Wait, oh my audience I have forgot a fact,
You know nothing of this god, so I shall lay your track.
The elvish god Corellon Larethian, the wooded guardian be,
The friend of all who walk the ground, and all who live in tree.
Though freedom and art he emphasizes, a term he sets ahead.
Good must come before all else, so he may take you from your death bed.
Well, now that you have vaguely learned of the god so old,
I shall return to my poem, for the tale must still be told.
The orcish horde it came to sight, their banners stained with blood,
They chanted fierce and vulgar cries, and at the woods slung mud.
They elves from forest’s edge marched out, knocking great bow strings
Yet from above a light shone down, accompanied by rings.
Pillars of golden fell descended toward the rear of the great horde,
A fact stood as the flesh fiends charged, none were to be bored.
Steel sundered skin, flame burned bone, and arcane fell the orcen best.
Also, many feathered lay, arrows through their chest
The sounds were all of dying cries; the scent of blood ran thick,
The battle’s victor, so it seemed, not even gods could pick.
The fight it died eventually, just as all fights do,
Oh Corellon Larethian willed it, this day the orcs would roe.
The horde was simply routed, Harkhood’s plan was right.
Elven armies had won this war, with only a single fight.
Members of the east and west, raised spear and sword and bow.
With the forest guardians will, Grummsh’s children were knocked low.
The army marched triumphantly, back to their wooded home.
They had lived a tale to tell every halfling, every gnome.
Arriving back in Astern, they meet in eerie sight,
With abject astonishment of what had passed in those weeks to reach the fight
On the night the troops they marched, the crescent banner waving,
Untar arrived in the great tree city, and told about him saving,
The forest by striking down the horde with his allies their in tow,
The creatures of the Underdark, Loth’s servants, the Drow.
Their skin was dark as death, and their eyes were clear as cream,
Their hair was bleached albino, and cloth had web for seam.
The Drow were welcomed peacefully, as heroes to the elves,
As were the creatures they brought with them, from their subterranean delves.
Over three days they settled in, to council they were set,
And all throughout the wooded lands, the Shadow Elves were let.
Slowly darkness seeped into that city in the trees.
At first it was quite minor, killing hives of stinging bees.
Yet it grew over short days, that darkness in the culture,
The Drow let out their honeyed words, yet they were simply vulture.
First there went the music, the minstrels played for cheers.
The reason was, quite logically, it hurt the frail Drow’s ears.
Second fell the weekly feast, of mead and mutton too.
Another reason, that stores had fell, was also easy to chew.
Corellon Larethian‘s clerics stood, and voiced their discontent,
But Untar twisted up their words, and the order to repent.
The Hall of Sculptures fell down next, yet excuses were repeated,
Untar, in wisdom, spoke of Harkthood’s touch, making it desecrated.
To take their place, it was proclaimed,
The works created under Loth’s name.
A group of elven mistrals, to show their hidden rage,
Took in their arms some crossbows, and shot Loth’s greatest sage.
The Spider Queen, for that Loth was, called out through her priests
And loudly proclaimed to the public that the artists, they were beasts.
The next rising sun Untar drew his blade and one neck at a time,
Behead elven minstrel before the crowd, no matter if had crime.
Again the clerics they called out, to all the elvish people,
Until the rumor came about them Harkthood touched their steeple.
The Drow, they nurtured this information, and bound it to their will,
And then among the common elf there fell a mighty chill,
Toward the servants of Corellon Larethian, who soon were isolated,
And no sooner was that dark deed done laws passed, and not debated.
The rations to the elves were cut, each meal a smaller platter,
But Untar and the Drow, it seemed, were only getting fatter.
Thievery abounded, and the guard aid it just laxed.
And within every wood elf, the heart was just too taxed.
Soon elven will it faltered, and with this event the Drow,
They seized the opportunity, and soon they ran the show.
More blasphemy and chaos, soon entered from the wings.
Lying, murder, stealing, and other unbearable things.
The priests that served Corellon Larethian, stuck with most of the bills,
Appealed to the crescent banner god, who let them head for the hills.
Lichen chocked out flower, and mushroom slaughtered vine,
And trees were cut to pieces to open room for mines.
The forest became Underdark, the elves were brainwashed fully,
By the words of Great Lord Untar. They worked with pick and pulley.
Corellon Larethian frowned down , upon his children’s choice.
And yet his ideals they had forsaken, so they did not hear his voice.
Soon freedom too was snatched from them, like a theft beneath the stars.
For any word of the “elder times” sent one directly behind bars.
Finally, that fateful dusk, the elves and Drow did gather,
Beneath the might oak, the one tree to mine they rather.
Untar stood above them all, in ebon silk was dressed,
Above the Drow he fancied himself higher then the rest.
“Behold” he yelled “this glories day our deity did speak,”
“And told to me off his evil plans, so him we can not keep.”
“Instead I bring you our new lord, her commandment they are lean,”
“So now I say, may all of us, pay homage to the Spider Queen.”
The elves, mostly in trust of him, cried out “ May Loth live long”
Never to finally realize, that they had made the unforgivable wrong
Far away from the deep dwarf mines, far from the seas of snow,
Many leagues form this little town, in the land ruled by the Drow.
I bloody pile of bodies lie and upon the top there stood,
With his final words “ May Corellon forgive” upon the lips of Harkthood.
Far away from the deep dwarf mines, far from the seas of snow,
Many leagues from this little town in a land that none still know,
A forest lies under high pearl clouds, and within the trees they dwell,
An elven city, though once quite free, that fell to the Nine Hells.
Once temples shone like sun upon the sharp hoe head,
Corellan’s holy beacon, of which all beasts felt dread.
And homes of warped and tender wood, and stores of bread and mead,
Yet now the people, they are lost, all due to one elf’s greed.
One shining dawn, at sun’s first light, the council met the kings
East and west of wood they ruled, each with land and things.
The first was titled Harkthood, the mage lord of the east,
Frail but kind, he loyally stood, with elf ‘gainst any beast.
The other, simply Untar, stood fiercely for the west,
Though he said he cared for his people, Harkthood he repressed.
The kings, though never best of friends,
Were forced to work toward equal ends.
For from the southern hills they came,
Under one banner, chanting one name.
The orcish horde, so strong and fierce, tattooed with Grummsh’s eye,
With axe in hand and hide on back, to slay the elves they try.
Harkthood spoke “We need a plan, bring me to the library.”
While Untar simply said “the orcs are not so scary”
For countless dawns and countless dusks, oh did Harkthood toll
Requesting bard, scrawling lines, and reading every scroll
He called his people to the city, Astern it was named,
“I have a plan, the elves are strong, take the right!” proclaimed
The elven warriors strung their bows, and wood for flint was charred,
And every magus of the woods they came. Sorcerer, Wizard, Bard.
The people from the west came too, with blade and spell and bow.
But Untar, in name of illness, did not come in tow.
With valor this army marched out, Corellon’s crescent high,
And to the edge of tree and trail, oh their feet did fly.
Wait, oh my audience I have forgot a fact,
You know nothing of this god, so I shall lay your track.
The elvish god Corellon Larethian, the wooded guardian be,
The friend of all who walk the ground, and all who live in tree.
Though freedom and art he emphasizes, a term he sets ahead.
Good must come before all else, so he may take you from your death bed.
Well, now that you have vaguely learned of the god so old,
I shall return to my poem, for the tale must still be told.
The orcish horde it came to sight, their banners stained with blood,
They chanted fierce and vulgar cries, and at the woods slung mud.
They elves from forest’s edge marched out, knocking great bow strings
Yet from above a light shone down, accompanied by rings.
Pillars of golden fell descended toward the rear of the great horde,
A fact stood as the flesh fiends charged, none were to be bored.
Steel sundered skin, flame burned bone, and arcane fell the orcen best.
Also, many feathered lay, arrows through their chest
The sounds were all of dying cries; the scent of blood ran thick,
The battle’s victor, so it seemed, not even gods could pick.
The fight it died eventually, just as all fights do,
Oh Corellon Larethian willed it, this day the orcs would roe.
The horde was simply routed, Harkhood’s plan was right.
Elven armies had won this war, with only a single fight.
Members of the east and west, raised spear and sword and bow.
With the forest guardians will, Grummsh’s children were knocked low.
The army marched triumphantly, back to their wooded home.
They had lived a tale to tell every halfling, every gnome.
Arriving back in Astern, they meet in eerie sight,
With abject astonishment of what had passed in those weeks to reach the fight
On the night the troops they marched, the crescent banner waving,
Untar arrived in the great tree city, and told about him saving,
The forest by striking down the horde with his allies their in tow,
The creatures of the Underdark, Loth’s servants, the Drow.
Their skin was dark as death, and their eyes were clear as cream,
Their hair was bleached albino, and cloth had web for seam.
The Drow were welcomed peacefully, as heroes to the elves,
As were the creatures they brought with them, from their subterranean delves.
Over three days they settled in, to council they were set,
And all throughout the wooded lands, the Shadow Elves were let.
Slowly darkness seeped into that city in the trees.
At first it was quite minor, killing hives of stinging bees.
Yet it grew over short days, that darkness in the culture,
The Drow let out their honeyed words, yet they were simply vulture.
First there went the music, the minstrels played for cheers.
The reason was, quite logically, it hurt the frail Drow’s ears.
Second fell the weekly feast, of mead and mutton too.
Another reason, that stores had fell, was also easy to chew.
Corellon Larethian‘s clerics stood, and voiced their discontent,
But Untar twisted up their words, and the order to repent.
The Hall of Sculptures fell down next, yet excuses were repeated,
Untar, in wisdom, spoke of Harkthood’s touch, making it desecrated.
To take their place, it was proclaimed,
The works created under Loth’s name.
A group of elven mistrals, to show their hidden rage,
Took in their arms some crossbows, and shot Loth’s greatest sage.
The Spider Queen, for that Loth was, called out through her priests
And loudly proclaimed to the public that the artists, they were beasts.
The next rising sun Untar drew his blade and one neck at a time,
Behead elven minstrel before the crowd, no matter if had crime.
Again the clerics they called out, to all the elvish people,
Until the rumor came about them Harkthood touched their steeple.
The Drow, they nurtured this information, and bound it to their will,
And then among the common elf there fell a mighty chill,
Toward the servants of Corellon Larethian, who soon were isolated,
And no sooner was that dark deed done laws passed, and not debated.
The rations to the elves were cut, each meal a smaller platter,
But Untar and the Drow, it seemed, were only getting fatter.
Thievery abounded, and the guard aid it just laxed.
And within every wood elf, the heart was just too taxed.
Soon elven will it faltered, and with this event the Drow,
They seized the opportunity, and soon they ran the show.
More blasphemy and chaos, soon entered from the wings.
Lying, murder, stealing, and other unbearable things.
The priests that served Corellon Larethian, stuck with most of the bills,
Appealed to the crescent banner god, who let them head for the hills.
Lichen chocked out flower, and mushroom slaughtered vine,
And trees were cut to pieces to open room for mines.
The forest became Underdark, the elves were brainwashed fully,
By the words of Great Lord Untar. They worked with pick and pulley.
Corellon Larethian frowned down , upon his children’s choice.
And yet his ideals they had forsaken, so they did not hear his voice.
Soon freedom too was snatched from them, like a theft beneath the stars.
For any word of the “elder times” sent one directly behind bars.
Finally, that fateful dusk, the elves and Drow did gather,
Beneath the might oak, the one tree to mine they rather.
Untar stood above them all, in ebon silk was dressed,
Above the Drow he fancied himself higher then the rest.
“Behold” he yelled “this glories day our deity did speak,”
“And told to me off his evil plans, so him we can not keep.”
“Instead I bring you our new lord, her commandment they are lean,”
“So now I say, may all of us, pay homage to the Spider Queen.”
The elves, mostly in trust of him, cried out “ May Loth live long”
Never to finally realize, that they had made the unforgivable wrong
Far away from the deep dwarf mines, far from the seas of snow,
Many leagues form this little town, in the land ruled by the Drow.
I bloody pile of bodies lie and upon the top there stood,
With his final words “ May Corellon forgive” upon the lips of Harkthood.
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