Justin Silverblade

I'm with Balladore. It brings about good words for thought, but I think I'd much rather sit back and enjoy this one. ~Great poem, I liked it a lot.~

Well I'll tell ya, I find it incredibly difficult to tell stories in verse, and find myself preaching emotion and ideals often in their stead. But you tell it, so well Xradion, I'm impressed. ~Hope you keep it up!~

Untitled and unfinished? hmm... Well a good start I think... though it would be fine poem just on it's own; a quick idea conveyed with heavy weight. Sometimes the best things in life are the little ones. ~Good work~

Hmm, a thoughtful poem, my friend. I'll have to 'break out the brandy', as they say (don't ask who "they" are), and re-read it again later. ~Good work and idea. Thanks for sharing it.~

Oh wow. A goodie Falcon. I like. ~Bravo!~

~ Well, I needed a break from writing the Call of the Tides, but I didn't want to waste the creative inspiration I felt. So I put on a little Beethovan, (Moonlight Sonata I think goes well with this story, if you have it), and this is what came out. I hope you enjoy, as always. ~ If Walls Could Talk The keep was baron; empty beyond its years. The stone, cold stone, that had housed the many patrons, the royal families, and powerful warlords, now stood unused. Magic still could be felt within the very soul of the castle, seeping through the floors. Spirits of long lost warriors dripped from the ceiling, forgotten alongside the very house that was theirs. The dining hall, the long wooden table that fed the Dukes of Tharren when they had laid their swords to rest for the day, was vacant. Fine china, dim to the touch, sat out, set for the next meal. An empty jug, that once held the day’s drowning sin, could but cry in its aged ways. There was a time, when the good Lord Elwin would stand in the well lit hall. With a great shout in a mighty voice, he would proclaim that his knights and friends, who fought so bravely in the face of evil and deception, were honoured here. But no longer. The room was empty. Where the fair ladies once danced alongside their faithful husbands, a large room hung low. Decorations still strung from the last event clung together in a glue of spider web and dust. The giant window facing east, that let in the glory of the morning sun to warm the stone walls now allowed only a grimy fragment of the light, much corrupted. The acoustics still carried, as they did when the Jalheir Dancing Troupe preformed centuries ago. Their feet, perfectly timed, asserted themselves with pleasurable sound. Now that flat wooden surface was used only as a trafficking ground for Freddy the mouse. In the room of guests, empty, unmade beds yearned to once again be the object of rest. The hearth that welcomed the stay of travelers, once harboured a flame that burned with the passion of a thousand men. Now it stood unused, a small pile of ash still lay in memorial. It was as if it was yesterday that there, in the bed nearest the small dust covered window, the Priestess of Uldain called to the powers above to save a young child who had taken ill. He would recover, and live to grow into a suit of armor and protect his family, thanks to her work. But now, the beds lay bare. And atop the high tower, a single raven stood in silent contemplation, as had the local wizard ages ago in the room just below. His thoughts, recorded to tomes either forgotten or destroyed, could still be felt radiating from dusty desk. Even now, amongst the papers and tools, a beaker lay half full of an unknown liquid, for an unfinished experiment. There was a time when a noise arose so great from that little room in that tallest tower, that the guard came wearily and cautiously up with winding stairs. Their sight to see was none of concern, but of hilarity; a false experiment and a blackened face. Now the dizzying stairs no longer wore down from use. This all on a browning hill, the image of the house of lords was that just that: a post card of thoughts, forbidden from the world by time. Unknown and unhonoured, because of the future. Lives that had spent in thoughtful prayer and forceful protection, now, as lost souls, mourned for their worthless efforts. If only they were remembered, they would be happy. But the dust gathers evermore, and time is a cruel villain to memory. The times of yesterday, are merely an image for today, and are lost in tomorrow. But even now, still, they who are the past do not give up. For on the occasional light spring day, when a young lad treks up the way, atop the hill, and looks upon the bleak sight of yesterday, he hears the silent cry. “Remember…” Edited by: Justin Silverblade at: 5/3/02 6:36:21 pm

Thanks guys. Xradion, I'm not sure, I never played that one. He's just the name I use for my 'bad guy' character in Archmage, and RPGing.

Wow, this is a really neat poem. I love the feel, and the... well everything really. I like it a lot! Good work, please keep it up (<-- that's the hard part, I find. ). Edited by: Justin Silverblade at: 5/3/02 6:29:08 pm

A little ditty I came up with when trying to come up with a villan in my head. Enjoy. Birds of the Night Silent birds of the night, With angry cry and blackened heart, Seek to find their prey so right, A quick and most deathly flight, With sharp beaks and darkened wings Into the moon they fly from sight From their post they depart. Forced by word and magic rings Dank, the soul of the mage, Whose gestures damn the mortal man To the depths, with hellish rage. Freed from his bloody cage Scorn and hatred fuel his burning way Cunning guides his new rampage To those who stand, who have not ran, Their courage and bravery shall betray. For Enos has returned.

The weeks would pass by quickly, and the Council of Litheme would meet at the Rockshier dwellings, home of a small dwarven community of Litheme. It was far from Jardain and its provinces, and proved quite a trek. Tekkorin, much Rubin’s dismay after growing quite an attachment to the old man, had insisted on going with him. They traveled westward and were gone for many sunny weeks. Whilst they did, Rubin began to grow up, unbeknownst of the worldly problems around him. His eleventh birthday came unto the world in the fall and was celebrated with gifts and small festivities in the city of Jardain. It was there, in the company of his mother, he learned the finer (and much more fun) side of the warrior he so wanted to be. He competed in games (and won a good lot of them on account of his skill, not his royalty), and then danced and sang the night away. Several days after the festivities, Tekkorin and Peter reappeared. They brought with them presents for Rubin, from those that were friendly to Peter on the council. Trinkets and clothing made up the majority of the gifts. A boy’s fancy of war usually did not usually appear in shields and swords until he ‘came of age’ at sixteen. They, to the disappointment of Aria, also brought back bad news. The council, despite pleas from both the lord and the wizard, refused to believe the accusations. There were a few who supported Peter and spoke many words of coming to his aid were it true, but until it proved so they would not move to prevent it. The only success they gained was the alertness of the council to a possible attack. Belief or no, they would make sure they had an army ready. Mere day’s after they had arrived and delivered the news Tekkorin announced his departure to the group, proclaiming that his schedule had once again resumed, and he must be off. It was a cloudy fall day, with but the odd drop of rain heading straight to the ground, no wind to deter it. The lush green of the grass had turned to a dim green and some to a light brown. The flowers that guided the roads had been replaced by a covering of red, orange and yellow leaves. The air was brisk and began to loose the edge it had in the summer. Gathering in the courtyard Tekkorin had his horse (a better one, supplied and packed courtesy of Peter) just outside the open gates, and was saying his goodbyes. “I don’t want you to go Tek!” Rubin cried. “You haven’t told me enough stories yet!” The wizard laughed and let his eyes stare into the child for a while. “But I must,” he said finally, “For I have a long way to go, and I wish to cover much ground before the snow. Be happy child, for I will return and you will be stronger, and can tell me stories. Besides, I have told you stories enough that would put a tavern to bed twice!” Rubin, in some of his finest clothes, withdrew his new, larger sword-stick and took a great breath in. “Ok, I guess. But hurry back.” Tekkorin nodded and took a look at the child’s weapon. “Make sure you use your time wisely. There will be plenty of time to fight monsters, but you must learn now, while your mind is ripe. Your schooling is most important.” Finishing with a great hug, Tekkorin looked up at the two adults waiting to send him off. A droplet of rain fell upon Aria’s delicately brushed hair and sparkled gently. “Aria…” “Goodbye Tek. Safe journeys, and make sure you say hi to the others for me,” Aria said hugging Tekkorin. Her eyes sparkled with a mixture of sadness and happy understanding. “Everyone I meet on the way, m’lady. Keep yourself well,” Tekkorin spoke, “and aid your husband. He will need your support in the coming years I fear. Your knowledge will be useful in assembling and training protection for your lands, as he will be spending many months arguing; hopefully for some benefit. Turning to Peter, Tekkorin held out his hand. Peter took it firmly and gave it a quick shake. “Watch yourself Tek, the roads are unsafe outside of Litheme. They do not take kindly to normal travelers, let alone old men. I will work on the council as much as I can until your return.” “And build an army Peter. I fear for the safety of the roads here in Litheme. I will see you soon.” Peter nodded, adding, “I await the return of your counsel.” Tekkorin turned towards the gates and began to head out when he heard a shrill voice from behind him. “Make sure ya don’t get yourself killed out there, old man!” came from the castle doors. Jackie was standing there, in her set of maid’s clothing. A smile reappeared on Tekkorin’s face. “Indeed I won’t Jackie!” And with that, he mounted his well-trained steed and started out the gates. As soon as the doors were closed behind him, Rubin ran to the top of the ramparts and watched as his friend rode ‘round the bend, and could hear his singing for far longer; until it was just the odd note riding the air to his ears. Much the boy’s ignorance, the old wizard would not return until they both would have stories to tell. “Hey ho! Ho hey! I’m off to go, To see a show, I set out on the cool fall day. “I’ll lie awake, and see the stars, I’ll dig holes, and find the gold, I’ll look ahead, and watch the wild, “Hey ho! Ho hey! I’ll find the fight, Turn wrong to right, And trust my wits to find the way! “Hey ho! Ho hey!" ~ This concludes the First Chapter. I have recently 'refound' my creative inspiration, and will hopefully have much more for you in the future. I hope you enjoy. (any comments/critisim is welcomed in the Critic's Corner; I believe Ozy started a thread there) ~

Some believe that trust is to be given freely, until betrayed. Others believe that trust is not to be given until it is earned. Your poem seems (to me) to accent the difficulty with the first belief. But, if we all believed the second statement, I'm not sure anyone would ever come to trust anyone.... Hmm... the poem brings forth both emotion and good thought. I liked it a lot. Thanks. ~Good work.~

I like Canid, and it's good to see some of the "hot spot's" of society melded into such a form of art. (Btw, I do agree with you.) Keep up the good work!

Thanks Cyril. Just a note, I've changed the final stanza from: To love and lose, and love still... I can’t bear the noise, Of singing silence. To: The record plays ‘round and ‘round I can’t bear the noise, Of singing silence. I think I like this one. Keeps the idea, without restricting the metaphor.

Thanks Wyv. A good interpretation. It's strange, usually, I'm no good at this sort of thing (the metaphors, the imagery, etc), and I just write the message I want to get across, and then try to work in some good stuff from there. This poem happened the opposite way. I found myself writing before thinking, and then editing with thought. I found that my first statement in this post was false... I am very sure of the title. Perhaps you guys (and everyone's welcome to jump in on this one, though you always are), can give me a hand. You see, I am still uncertain about the last three lines. Particularly, the first line of the last verse there. "To love and lose, and love still..." At first I put it there to help the reader 'interpret' the poem. But now in light of your insights, and re-reading I see that the interpration can be much broader than the restrictions put on by the narrator, should that line stay true. Also, the job of interpreting is well done by the title and/or the last line. But if I am to remove it, or change it (though I don't think I'd change it), I am nost sure if just: I can't bear the noise, Of singing silence. would work. What do you think? Yours,

What can I say, everyone's got a soft side, eh? This has got a bit of editing work/looking over to be done yet, but I got (as usual) a little anxious and wanted to post it. I hope you enjoy. The Way You Look at Me The way you look at me, With sparkling eyes, Dazzles me as they glow, Like the new sunrise. Too scared am I to look to you And deeply stare to those eyes true. Too frightened you would to see me, For who I am and not like who I be. The way you smile at me, With heaven’s lips, Gives me life and breath, From feet to fingertips. I return the smile in silent wanting, Of more than our friendly flaunting. In silent dreams of fanciful ways, When together we’d live our days. The way you speak to me, So innocent and sweet, Those words of greeting, Every time we meet. The light touch as you pass by With silent words, I heave a sigh What should I do, what should I say I but watch as you walk away.

I've a whole book of quotes (quite literally), but here's a couple I like (though I haven't read through all of the above, so forgive me if one of them's been said. "We must believe in luck. For how else can we explain the success of those we don't like?" - Jean Cocteau "Fear less, hope more, eat less, chew more, whine less, breath more, talk less, say more, hate less, love more, and all good things will be yours." - Swedish proverb (This one's for Seth, and any other 'first chair' band players out there, coming from a not first chair. ) "If we were all determined to play the first violin we should never have an ensemble. Therefore, respect every musician in his proper place." - Robert Schumann, German composer.

A ticking clock, I find Gyr, that it inenhances my mood. If I am mellow, then it sooths me. If I am anxious, then it makes time go by sooooooo much slower. Wow, ArawnD, you've written some good poetry. I like it. Edited by: Justin Silverblade at: 4/18/02 8:27:16 pm

Intadesting... vedy intadesting... I like it.

Nice (takes a bit of the old thought to read though. ) I like it a lot.

Gotta say my friend, I keep reading it, and I keep loving it. Good work!

The days passed while Tekkorin the wizard stayed with the Lady Aria and her son Rubin. Those bright days turned to sunny weeks, and Tekkorin found himself spending much more of his time then he had expected with the young child. Rubin and he would quite often trek up the great hill that caused the road to bend to Jardain and look over the peaceful countryside. Other times Tekkorin would simply sit in the sun and watch as Rubin described the great battles of his father and how he would someday walk in his footsteps. It was not long until they received word of Lord Peter Nathiel and his homecoming. When the message came that the Lord of the Castle would be arriving within a few days, everything was in quite a stir. The maids, stable-hands, gardeners, and cooks were all in a frenzy to make sure all was spotless and organized. There was no party planned, but to the Lord of Jardain the look of normality was dependant on how efficient things ran. So, the hedges were trimmed, the beds were made, and the ramparts were swept. On the day of his arrival everyone, including the workers of the castle, were lined up to greet Lord Peter. The sun was out again, in another flawless day. Three or four wisps of cloud were decorating the skyline. The air began to take on a slightly warmer feel, as it was indeed the later weeks of May now. Peter rode in on a great white stallion and was dressed in fine garments of red and blue. His hair was a jet black and cut short to keep it from getting in the way of any work that he may need to do. He greeted his wife first affectionately, and then proceeded to pick up his boy high into the air. Laughter emerged from Rubin’s throat and there were whispers of happiness in the crowd. With just a brief look around Peter spoke to the gathered employees of how well his castle looked, and dismissed them back to work. There was a general sense of relief and they all dispersed back to their daily duties, leaving in their wake, the vision of Tekkorin upon the balcony. He stood at seeing Peter and bowed low. The Lord walked over and beckoned him to sit, and he too took a seat, his wife by his side and Rubin wandering in the courtyard. “Tekkorin, it has been a while,” Peter opened. His voice was naturally strong. “How have you been keeping yourself?” “I am well, thanks especially to having been in such good company, m’lord. For the past month I have been spending my time here, enjoying the spring days and the good food,” Tekkorin replied. “Well, this is good news. I am sorry that I was not here to greet you upon your arrival. But the council seems to grow more restless every time we meet,” Peter said. Tekkorin nodded. “Yes, well, to tell the truth a vacation was not my exact intention on being here. Now that you are here, I have some worries to present to both you and your wife. As I’ve told you Aria, the Kald’heir Empire will likely finish their set out conquest by snowfall. We fear that they may not be satisfied with that. If I may get straight to business.” Peter nodded, and ordered that a pot of tea and some fruit be brought to them. “As you know,” continued the wizard, “the Kald’heir Empire has been very successful in redeeming itself in its quest. Their borders by the end of the year shall stretch to the cold north, and even as far south as to touch borders with Litheme in it’s upper most lands.” “It is not this way straight across though, right? Eastward the Kald’heir recede back, correct?” interrupted Peter. “Yes. Far east along the shores of Quell the borders of the Kald’heir are much higher. And so it should be. But we are worried that they are not satisfied with their territories. It is true that the kings of old are gone now, and whilst the Kald’heir wait for their new emperor to grow into stronger years, their advisors rule. And they, versed in the arts of war and politics, are wicked and evil. We fear that they may try and stretch down as far south as the Canyon of Valdrus. “ “Through Litheme…” said Aria. “Indeed. We then think that they will use the natural borders of the Canyon and sweep across this realm to the far eastern shores. Litheme is divided in rulers, and so would be easier to stretch down, even if their forces are thin.” Tekkorin finished, and the ordered items were brought. Tea was poured into small cups and fruit lay down on the table in a basket. Tekkorin took an apple. “Their movements would not start for months, if not years down the road, but knowing that your council slows with each meeting…” “Hmm…” Peter thought for a moment amongst the sound of metal spoons stirring. “I will send out a message today, though they will not be pleased at this re-gathering so quickly. We can likely reconvene in the early summer.” “Then make it so.”

Not sure of the title, but it's something I just came up with, so I thought I'd share. Enjoy! Singing Silence A silence. The painful thought, Of life slipping away, Without consent, Without hope’s subtle ray, From the deathly box. I can’t bear it, I won’t. The soft movements of time A motion so slow That it can’t be caught Like a dream, I reach out To miss that which I sought A sound. Gentle laughter distantly, Innocent and free, Wistfully wandering, Carried through the air by glee, ‘Round that corner where, I long to be. Turn and walk with open hand, To embrace that music, Like a poison, corrupts it, And sings back to me, That old silent hit. The record plays ‘round and ‘round- I can’t bear the noise, Of singing silence. Edited by: Justin Silverblade at: 4/21/02 1:37:12 pm

“Beggin’ you pardon, you old sod, but it’s time to get up.” There was no reply save a loud snore from Tekkorin. Jackie stood for a moment with her arms on her hips and took in a great sigh. With a push, she let the wizard’s legs drop from on the table. “Getch’r arse up, and your feet off me table!” This caused the wizard to awake with a start. His eyes opened to the not so pleasant sight of Jackie the maid. His face turned to a mixture of fright and horror. A slight cry left his lips before he realized whom it was. “Damn, woman!” “Ya ain’t so pretty ya’self there.” Jackie went over to the window and looked out it a moment. The sky had become a pinkish hue while the sun gripped at the mountaintops. The room had become much darker as a result, as the one window was the only natural source of light. With a quick flick of her wrist, Jackie closed the window. “Ya gonna let all the cool air in too? This bloody castle’s hard enough to keep warm without you goin’ an openin’ all the windas.” Tekkorin shook his head and stood up. “You don’t stop, do you…” “Nope. An’ if you keep teach’n the young master that I’m a witch and I’ll never will.” Jackie caught Tekkorin adjusting his robes slightly. These were better robes then of those he wore when he traveled in; a dark blue. They had no special symbols or laces, but the material was of fair quality and make. With a small push towards the door, Jackie handed him his cane and urged him forward. She closed the doors behind them. “Come now, or you’ll be late for supper.” “He actually told you that he thought you were a witch? I assure you that was his idea entirely.” Tekkorin stated walking down the hallway, and to the steps that would lead to the lower floors of the castle. “Yeah, and I’m sure it just a came to ‘im, without you so much as lifting a finger.” Jackie rolled her eyes. “Are you implying something madam?” Tekkorin gave a mock shocked look. Jackie just shook her head and led him down the stairs, around the corner and down several hallways to a dining room. A large square table sat in the middle of the room, with a total of ten chairs around it; one on each end and four on each side. It was set and an open bottle lay in a large silver bowl of ice. Beside the table stood no less then five great windows, though none stood open, displaying the paintings of nature in the light evening sky. Multiple purples and pinks mingled with blue and tiny wisps of white. Between each window stood mounted an unlit candle. On the other side of the room was a candle lit stone wall. Twelve giant candles burnt on their holders, already half melted. The four corners of the room were decorated with various types of armor, one was notably large enough to fit three men in. On the opposite side of the room (from which they had entered) was another open doorway that, by the sounds of it, led to the kitchen. When Tekkorin arrived, Aria and Rubin had already been seated, though not yet served. Aria sat at the furthermost head of the table, with Rubin to her right. While Jackie disappeared through the other door, Tekkorin took a seat across from Rubin. “My apologies Aria, Rubin, my eyelids caught up with me from my travels. I’m afraid I fell asleep a little longer then I intended.” “No problem Tek, we just got here ourselves. Please have a drink; you like red wine right?” Aria asked offering to pour him a glass. Tekkorin nodded and motioned to his glass. “Yes, please.” Aria poured the crimson liquid into his glass and returned the bottle to its cold silver holding place. “So, tell us where you’ve been to in the last eight years Tek. I’ll bet you’ve run into many things.” Aria took a sip from her own half full glass and allowed her face to grow somewhat more serious. “How go the battles to the far north, and what of our friends, any news of them, or have you not heard?” “You should be stern less, and smile more, m’lady, it suits you better,” Tekkorin answered. “As for the north, things are not so pleasant as they are here in Litheme. The battles continue, and it looks as though our thoughts were quite correct. The alliance against the Kald’heir Empire has all but failed. There is only one province that still fights against them in the far north. We expect them to fall within the year. After that, the empire will have finished their set out conquest. It will have been a sixteen-year siege, but hopefully then peace will return to the realm. Our friends, last I heard were either safe, or had become uninvolved. “And as for me, that is an entirely different story.” Tekkorin stopped to take another sip of wine. As he did several maids came from the kitchen with food, the steam floating high off the platters. Meat, soup, bread, vegetables and various other provisions were brought out and left on the table. There was a break in conversation while the three dished up, and prepared their food. When all the plates had been filled, Aria said a word of thanks to the powers above and then the three began eating. At first the three were to busy to be of any good conversation, but soon their rate of ingestion slowed, and Tekkorin picked up where he left off. “As I was saying,” Tekkorin restarted, “my journeys have been a most interesting and different story…” The wizard, over the course of the meal, then continued to tell of his journeys around the known world. Up to the north, where he stayed with some of his long time friends. Then he had apparently traveled to the eastern shores, where he stayed awhile at a place he referred to as the Old House. His travels then led down the shores to the south where he met up with his wizard friends. Here he was sketchy, speaking of things that “take too long to explain really,” and quickly moved on to his travels that led him eventually back to Litheme. To the great dismay of Rubin, he mentioned nothing of how he gained his limp, or of any monsters he had fought. Indeed, he spoke of the roads being rough, and rouges being in many places, but the only fight he actually spoke of was a particular bar fight in his travels to the north. And even then, he used no magic, but the friend traveling with him at the time took care of it with a sharp blade and smooth tongue. “What about the limp?” asked Rubin finally, having been patient for so long, he wanted to here of fights and battles. “Did you get it fighting something huge?” “My limp? Oh that was a silly little accident on the way here,” Tekkorin answered simply. Rubin’s heart sank, and Aria wore a sympathetic smile for her son. He had waited through a story that meant nothing to those who knew not the lands, and his only hope had just vanished. Tekkorin saw this and gave both a smile and a sigh. “Have you ever seen a Hobgoblin?” Rubin perked up right away. “Nope, but I’ve heard of ‘em.” “Well, they’re huge! And I’ll tell you why you haven’t seen any of them, it’s cause they’re scared of me…” Tekkorin went on to indulge the boy’s fantasies, making up a story of how two giant hobgoblins had ambushed him on his way here, and he had fought them off with a dagger and fireballs and lighting. He made it short but sweet, and finished leaving the lad’s green eyes brimming with joy. After he finished he mentioned that he had some bookwork to be done. “So if you two will excuse me. I will see you in the morning?” Aria nodded. “Of course Tek. Sleep well.” As he turned the corner he heard the young voice of Rubin calling after him, “I hope you’ll tell me more stories!”

Great bit Seth. Can't wait for more!

Good feeling behind it too! ~Bravo~