Inspired by
The epic of Sodel Udir,
By the way, Îton Sákrith is the name of my fort. The translation is "The Blazing Halls"
Here is Chapter I
Let me tell you a tale of Îton Sákrith
Some say it’s a legend; some say it’s a myth
But I, for one, believe in the Blazing Halls
Where blood of their enemies spatters the walls
Overhead arch marble beams,
From below come goblins’ screams
Halls in which giants could stand,
For it is a fortress grand
Mighty dwarves defend these halls,
From rise of sun till it falls
Defending their mighty keep
It seems as they never sleep
The ore is poor but hearts are strong,
Anvils ring in pounding song
Food is made in great excess
Wells are deep, Armok they bless
As winter comes, the dead walk
Heard the necromancer talk,
“None dare battle against us,
We will rise, submit you must.”
Dwarves heard this and grew afraid,
But one to this, no heed paid
And he rallied them to fight
They must hold, night after night
Dwarves found their copper mail
As dead the walls did assail,
Strong of arm and brave of heart,
Smote dead till they fell apart
As zombies died, they were raised
Fighters held, Armok be praised
And dwarves let themselves feel hope,
And they thought that they could cope
But their warriors did fall
And their wounded filled the hall
And their bones were filled with fear
Hours before dawn would draw near.
And at last the great gates fell
Soon dead, those inside that dwell
Towards the tombs, the mage strode
And about him evil glowed
Then the wizard did decry,
“You are shattered, so say I
You but have only despair,
And those who resist beware”
But the dwarves still had a plan
To trap the dead-raising man
So they worked and carved and mined
Nasty things for him to find
They dug piping to the caves
In which water flowed in waves
Windmills were built for power
But to the mage they cower
For their trickery was bold
Of it many stories told
As they seemed to be broken
Secret plans were spoken
And ran ahead, one dwarf brave
To the mage, insults he gave
With a roar, the man followed
Into the tombs most hallowed
And quickly, dwarves most clever
Praised themselves, pulled the lever
Gurgling came from the deeps
Where only the spider sleeps
The wizard had found his fate
But for him it was too late
For as pouring down the walls
Water was, and the man calls
“But I hold such knowledge great
Surely this is not my fate!
Cunning dwarves, have you souls?
Lost them in your dirty holes?”
“You are such foul beasts
Killing me, eating your feasts!
Know that I will have revenge
My death, my sons will avenge!”
The man hung there, by one hand
Hanging above a chasm grand
At the bottom of its maw
Lay its glowing, fiery jaw
Steam rose as water met fire
Towards the top of the spire
Where hung the man, filled with fear
Praying for his life so dear
And as the water flowed past
Over his fingers went fast
And slowly prying them free
Above the dwarves watched with glee
And at last he lost his grip
His voice was like a whip
As it screamed death on them all
Whipping past, throughout his fall
And he was consumed by flames
And so fulfilled, the dwarves aims
He sank into the fiery abyss
And a fitting end was this
Ingenuity conquers
To drive enemies bonkers
And again the dwarves stood strong
Till once more the nights grow long
Should I make a second chapter? Is my rhythm off horribly anywhere?
Author
Topic: The epic of Îton Sákrith (Read 6343 times)