The REAL epic of Pokk Kabal
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Mateusz IV
- Skeleton's Knuckle
- Posts: 12
- Joined: Sun Jan 04, 2004 11:51 pm
- Location: Poland
Somewhere, somehow a memory stirred
...
Pokk walked down his hall of triumph. He pranced, bounced and strolled arogantly as he took in his triumphs.
Momentos, trophies some real, some imagined, and some purchased or stolen as required. His bare toes wiggled in the incredibly lush carpet from lands far away. He smiled and stretched, his life was good.
Ah, yes the hall of victory. There stood the casket from the tomb in the Kryptgarden forest, empty now, treasures long since sold. Enchanted to groan occassionally by his pet mage. He grinned.
And next to that a giants helm. Or a helm sized to fit a giant, amazing what a dwarf would do for coin and the bragging rights such a helm possessed.
Dwarving even the giants helm lay crossed flags, Wayfarers colors old and new. Pokk idly touched each in turn watching the older move with perhaps a hint of maudlinity. The walls wondered at his expression.
Heroes armor lay across from that gold and black and hin sized. Cape attached offcourse for dramatic effect. Few could properly deny its majesty, or so he imagined, allthough in truth it was gaudy and ridiculous beyond all measure.
But by no means last stood his greatest treasure, or perhaps not - a human fist sized crytal on a pedastal. Identical in appearance to one he had once been shown. His mind made its own truth which perhaps matched reality - a phalactery.
...
The lifespan of these walls and hins treasures counted their lifespan remaining in days, not weeks, nor years as his fevered raving demented imagination assumed. Ash prevailed.
...
Pokk walked down his hall of triumph. He pranced, bounced and strolled arogantly as he took in his triumphs.
Momentos, trophies some real, some imagined, and some purchased or stolen as required. His bare toes wiggled in the incredibly lush carpet from lands far away. He smiled and stretched, his life was good.
Ah, yes the hall of victory. There stood the casket from the tomb in the Kryptgarden forest, empty now, treasures long since sold. Enchanted to groan occassionally by his pet mage. He grinned.
And next to that a giants helm. Or a helm sized to fit a giant, amazing what a dwarf would do for coin and the bragging rights such a helm possessed.
Dwarving even the giants helm lay crossed flags, Wayfarers colors old and new. Pokk idly touched each in turn watching the older move with perhaps a hint of maudlinity. The walls wondered at his expression.
Heroes armor lay across from that gold and black and hin sized. Cape attached offcourse for dramatic effect. Few could properly deny its majesty, or so he imagined, allthough in truth it was gaudy and ridiculous beyond all measure.
But by no means last stood his greatest treasure, or perhaps not - a human fist sized crytal on a pedastal. Identical in appearance to one he had once been shown. His mind made its own truth which perhaps matched reality - a phalactery.
...
The lifespan of these walls and hins treasures counted their lifespan remaining in days, not weeks, nor years as his fevered raving demented imagination assumed. Ash prevailed.
12.August.2015: Never forget.
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Cynon
- Gelatinous Cube
- Posts: 328
- Joined: Sat Sep 18, 2004 11:51 pm
- Location: Croydon, London, England, UK, GMT - 0
Once a soul always a soul eh?
Lost in dreams of a life past, forever at peace, if one so guilty could ever be forgotten.
But if a body remains, a lost soul may find it's way home. As much can one say for Pokk? Who knows, but hate never dies and eons of torment accumulate in a name spoken by lips re-worn.
Pokk Kabal I shall remember thee. Beware the void, for this shadow walks not alone.
Lost in dreams of a life past, forever at peace, if one so guilty could ever be forgotten.
But if a body remains, a lost soul may find it's way home. As much can one say for Pokk? Who knows, but hate never dies and eons of torment accumulate in a name spoken by lips re-worn.
Pokk Kabal I shall remember thee. Beware the void, for this shadow walks not alone.
If honour is truth and a lie is respect, then a secret is sacred.
Confide in me my friend and I shall love you like no other.
Confide in me my friend and I shall love you like no other.
On two different sides of the plane of endless battle two very different souls stirred as small hands touched banners far away in another realm..another existence.
One raised his red visor, eyes narrowing slightly before turning his warhorse and giving his barked commands and saluting with his lance to his red armoured lady.
Another stopped short in his deep laughter placing his flagon of ale down before stalking away from the bench suddenly scowling. His great lord paused looking over his own huge flagon at the retreating tattooed warrior before returning to the banter and wenches.
One raised his red visor, eyes narrowing slightly before turning his warhorse and giving his barked commands and saluting with his lance to his red armoured lady.
Another stopped short in his deep laughter placing his flagon of ale down before stalking away from the bench suddenly scowling. His great lord paused looking over his own huge flagon at the retreating tattooed warrior before returning to the banter and wenches.