Here we are chapter one, tis a tale for old and young,
A group of people there be, at some rundown tavern by the sea.
A chilly cold breeze runs trough the air but for the locals they do not but care, for their town is troubled by more than the odd hostile bear.
They are in need a force is at work something so terrible that millions now hide within the nearby church!
What is this force you may ask? Tis you the reader, you own the mask.
The mask of death they know it all too well, for every line you read down another man/woman or child may fell.
The town bell rings and our group looks around, be it fame, fortune or honer that rings from the sound, they will march from their tables and out trough the door, their quest it seems had begun but you the reader no more,
for soon these fighters, thieves, and mages, will join with the priests and holy crusaders. they will battle... every page, every line, every word for if they rest they know they may run out of time...
Screams and shouts, blood and gore! ! !
*CRASH! ! * Oh enough already its only a poem belted your mother as she burst trough the door...
Interrupted you see your poem has become fun,- Anthony Levitt
No comments:
Post a Comment