Medievia Mudslinger

Rappa Can? - By Rapscallion

In Med city did young Raps
A challenge arena espy
Where, oft times, folks did bravely go
To duel the eternal foe,
And learn how not to die.
So twice five miles of challenge ground
With spells and weapons was fought around
And there were screams loud with piercing shrills,
Where souls did perish in mortal agony;
And here were bodies fresh full of chills,
Zombies walking, giving mournful cry.
But oh! that deep arena was enchanted,
Death from that place was forever banished.
Breath to the fallen by the gods was granted
Returned they always, their scores not counted
Yet on they came, their hunger still famished.
And from this place with his chest hard heaving
Ran a mighty hero, loud was his beathing.
From the fountain he took a mighty draught,
Threw back his gory locks and loud he laughed.
Blood drenched him as if it had been a rain,
Foes scattered like a farmer sowing grain.
And 'mid these fabled streets as once and ever
His trail was mopped by a devoted cleaner.
Broad tracks were swabbed with practiced motion,
The people gathered each making a track
And Janitor left, his face scowling black,
Unnoticed and unloved in the commotion.
And mid this tumult young Raps heard from far
Shouted oaths and challenges demanding more.
The crowd did adulate the hero
But sadly he did push his luck,
For when he described his conquests
He used a word that rhymes with "duck".
The gods did hear and to keep things nice,
The hero they encased in sheets of ice.

A damsel with a sharp dagger
In N-P-K zone I saw:
She was a thiefly little maid
And with her steel poinard she played
Pinning me to the floor.
Could I recreate within me,
Her triggering and spams
So many PKs 'twould win me
That with duels loud and long
I would gain that Blood to stain my hair,
That gory Blood, not very nice!
And all would cry "Beware, Beware"
His flashing steel, his dang'rous air.
Flee a circle round him thrice,
And cast recall with holy dread,
For he on newbie flesh hath fed,
And not yet suffered freezing ice.

Author's notes: The original poem by Coleridge, Kubla Khan, has been adapted here to a Medievian theme. The original can be found at for comparison but I have managed to keep as close to the original for scansion, metre and rhyming scheme as possible. The original was composed while under the influence of "2 grains of opium taken to check a dysentry". This version required no additional chemicals whatsoever. Worrying, really. Personal thanks to Fatima and Korac for their encouragement to complete this opus.