Every Medievian
Down in Medievia,
Liked xp a lot...
But the goon,
Who lived in medlink,
Did NOT!
The goon hated double xp! Every holiday season!
Now please don't ask why, no one knows quite the reason.
It could be that his head wasn't screwed on just right
It could be that his armor was much to tight.
But I think the most likely reason of all,
May have been he had forgotten what it was like to be small!
But,
Whatever the reason,
His armor or his blues,
He sat in medlink day after day hating the newbs.
Glaring from his clan hall with a sour frown,
While laughter and cheers rang out from every town.
He knew everyone outside; beneath,
Every clan leader was rousing the clan for double xp!
"I must stop double xp from coming" he snarled with a sneer,
Then he got an idea!
He got a wonderful awful idea!
"I know just what I'll do!" the goon laughed out in delight,
"We're gonna stake FGS tonight!"
He hopped into a portal
And called some friends.
"To Trellor!!" he shouted with a loud chortle
"Let the Rumble begin!"
Creeping up silently - he hid in the dark
There .. one lone girl braved the keep,
This would be fun - a riot .. a hoot a lark!
His grin widened as he watched his target,
Glancing at where with a final sweep.
There they all came,
Silent as death.
He continued to watch - would she run,
Or sit her weary bones to rest.
Dousing his Tyche,
He crept about in the dark.
Bloodlust in his eyes - so violent -
As his Dagger of Fire found its mark.
His smile faded - the girl grinned in bloody triumph,
As she fled into the night.
"No!! this cannot be!!"
He shouted in bitter rage,
Facing four heroes with a bloodthirsty gaze.
Choked on his own blood,
As the dagger plunged into his back,
Scrambling to flee -
He is sent down with a bash
Falling to the ground,
With an agonizing moan,
He watched as all around,
His friends fell into the trap - to which they had been drawn
His eyes closed in death -
His last vision that of the young newb - wearing a bitter smile.
He cursed her with his last breath,
As she looted his max rings and Dagger of Fire.
Whose woods are these I think I know,
His character is not logged on though,
So in the dark I try to lay,
For traders and the freight they tow.
Where I am, I'm proud to say,
Hidden within CPK,
Pk's I have come to rack,
Try to live another day.
Dagger concealed behind my back,
I stab down; his spine goes "crack",
Tons of things I see to loot,
All go to my griffon pack.
I thank the Gods that he's not neut,
Reach down to take a DK boot,
Lighting targets, my skin to sear,
I'm layered in a crown of soot.
Suddenly it's me to fear,
Another newbie thief is here,
No time left for me to weep,
Not if I want to save me rear.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have loots I wish to keep,
And others to pk before I sleep,
And others to pk before I sleep.
"Mobs Don't Make Very Good Friends" - By Amava
I was walking down the road one day,
En route to a trade post called Naermae.
All alone I quickly made my way,
Listening to my wagon horse nicker and neigh.
Such the life of a lonely tradess,
No one would come with, the company I miss!
And every time I happened upon a living soul,
I asked where they were from, and the reply was droll.
They told me of places far away,
But only to get there, no more they'd say.
As the hours slowly ticked by,
I felt that I might stop to cry.
For lonely is this long, winding road,
With no one here to tease and goad.
Attempts for frolic with the wildlife around,
Only ended in a sickening sound,
As each one in turn did turn and fight,
Ending in just a corpse left in sight.
Mobs don't make very good friends,
For even when I stop to make amends,
The relations of the dearly departed,
Try to finish what their mobfriends started!
Now I run faster than before,
Hoping I won't find any more.
Just as I see the post in my view,
I smell the scent of a troll of two.
Looking 'round the corner pending,
I see the two monsters are in fact attending,
A little party held just for me!
But what a truly depressing thing to see,
As I trudge away from the spot they kept,
I feel somehow I should've wept,
For nothing more now does remain,
Now they're dead, and sacrificed in Vryce's name!
Yet again I think as I sell at the trip's end...
A mob doesn't make a very good friend.
A cute little poem... - By Amava
I went to the store on my own today,
I had my money and was willing to pay!
My father let me go all by myself,
And look upon things on every shelf.
And OH! what wonderful things my eyes did spy,
From lizard tongues to a dragon's eye!
I tried my hardest to not buy too much,
But the likes of these, I'd never seen such!
I spend too much on staves and wands,
Used to protect or walk over ponds,
And even when I could hold no more,
I had a friend send me more!
Now it's truly horrible my lack of will power,
I'm burdened down by staves and even a flower.
It seems to me I spend way too much money,
Look, oh dear! Even a pot of honey!
I have no room in my inventory,
I can barely hold this little story!
I have bags and packs full of stuff,
And still I think it's not enough!
I guess dropping some would do some good,
I'm really hungry but can hold no food!
And even my throat is feeling dry,
But I have so much, I cannot try.
For it would make me unable to move,
To hold one more stone, even if I choose!
Perhaps I will buy a locker today,
And put some of this junk away!
My Eggs - By Kylama
If only you knew the price you would pay,
For stealing my eggs on this fateful day.
The feelings are hot, the anger is growing.
If cracks should appear and my rage start showing,
Then your clannies and townines will start to die.
That's all in a days work to keep my clan alive.
Revenge for my clan is what I desire.
So I will be the first one to Kirys Spire.
I'll grab all the eggs as fast as I can,
So in the end, I can brag for my clan.
You'll go back to your town with much disgrace,
While a grin of pure evil rests on my face.
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