The Ugly Poet

[BigJ]

Char background here, Sandrue Tomas, the Ugly Poet.

Char background here, Jakk Llumba, the Ugly Poet's front man.



It was an enormous distance, a gigantic leap, the walk down the boarding plank and the step onto the docks had been treacherous on Jakk's wobbly legs, but he had made it! He was now on land, the docks of Balder's Gate no less.

He sent one last scornful glance to the ship that had brought him, took out his notebook and scribbled the following:


. . A Haiku . .

Sailing

Boat rocked then it docked,
offboard on land thank the gods,
hate sea, Gate looks nice.

He peruses the surroundings before putting his notebook away. "Time to make a start" he mutters, followed by a quick look at the sea and a sharp "Never again". With that he make his way inland.

And so it begins . . .

[BigJ]

Jakk sat down in a nice quiet and dark part of the docks, took out his notebook and scribbled notes for the following poems . .

. . Limericks . .

A collection of poems titled 'A Start, part one'

The Sarge
There once was an old sergeant named Schmidt,
had a chip on his shoulder a fair bit,
I fetched all Gond's iron
and still he was cryin',
his face I should slap but I dint.


Deliveries
There was a young dockhand named Hipp,
awash with deliveries from a ship,
turned his frown upside down
by running all around town,
a shame he paid peanuts for the trip.


Pirates
Old captain Calico Flint,
desired to sail but his crew said they dint,
they drowned in many Inns,
deep in ale for their sins,
I fetched them as Flint paid silver mint.

He sighed as he put the notebook away, muttering "better get on with the rest of these fekking jobs" and then set of.

[BigJ]

Jakk emerged from the hilltop ruins contemplating the scene he had just witnessed down below, near the strange wizard he was delivering a letter too.

Having sat down at the nearby camp for a rest, he took out his notebook and scribbled notes which later formed the following:

. . Limerick . .

An Imp by the Tail
There once was an imp in a flap,
caught within its very own trap,
would not squeal on its master
til threatened with disaster,
captor's then trudged to Inn for a cra . . nap.

Jakk put the notebook away, chuckling to himself at the scene of a imp being held by the tail whilst a group of adventurers argued over whether to hurt it or not.

(OOC: Came upon a DM event down there )

[BigJ]

A collection of poems titled 'A Start, part two'

. . a haiku . .

Filling Crows Fears
crows fears made of hay,
filled scares back into field,
honest work today.

. . a tanka . .

Eating What's Worn
Lady adora,
had bracelet stolen from her,
chased the youthful scamp,
pitied his sorrow so freed,
rich dame has many bracelets.

. . a tanka . .

Stolen Goods
Elad the merchant,
bandits took his goods to lair,
bade me to follow,
many fights in farmlands cave,
crime don't pay this day.

. . a haiku . .

Bats In The Cellar
Bats auditioned play,
rejected but begged to stay,
removed for great pay.

. . a keenings . .

Old-Dodger
Ole-fastlegged
furry-lightning
little-scamper
silent-running
rage-maddening
RAT

fall-flying
flounder-diving
dirt-splattering
sprain-enduring
empty-handed
ME

Farmer-Thorn
thanked-somewhen
semblance-similar
sprogs-cheering
care-none
ME HATE THAT RAT

[BigJ]

Jakk sat comfortably leaning against a rock outside at the Friendly Inn fire. There he watched an angry scene between many people, took out his notebook and started scribbling some notes, a while later he had the following . .

. . Limerick . .

Angry Fire
There were a many raging folk,
in anger they be greatly soaked,
such harm they desire,
around a friendly fire,
I smiled within, I bore a lighter cloak.

[BigJ]

A group of poems called 'The Collectors'

. . a haiku . .

Reverse Transmogrify
Fell dead by their beds,
magic by mage who charge old
turns old bones to gold.

. . a tanka . .

Rugs
Around the gate hinge,
Kaydi makes and sells her wears,
bring to her the furs
of sharp clawed grizzly growlers,
to stride upon deathless bears.

. . a haiku . .

Money Talks
Wolves harass farmer
farmer pays to harass wolves
Gold wins, Jorn has skins.

. . a haiku . .

Rat Rears
Sewer below jewels,
grind rat tails for collector Clyde,
his house must stinky.

[BigJ]

Jakk sat quietly leaning against a tree listening attentively to the poetry competition at the fair at Beregost. He scribbled notes occasionally enjoying a contest of words rather than brawn that the four lady contestants provided.

As the contest ended he looked down at his notes and some lines formed into the following verses:

. . free form . . .

Words joust upon the Wind

The fours birds let fly their voices
upon the air with great austere,
such sweet words would rise above the fair
to the crowd below who embraced their choices.

Of nightingales, dragons, morning dew and change,
the subject matter of their songful chatter
did glide around to form a poetic platter
which regaled the ears of all in range.

A peaceful time passed within words.

After finishing up Jakk packed up his things and left quietly heading north back to the Friendly Inn.

[BigJ]

Having been inspired by the story in the Baldur's Gate Herald regarding the sea battle between the Whispering Wanderess and Virtuous Soil ships, Jakk began researching the event by contacting the captain for details, and asking around the docks.

After a while the form began to take shape and the poem appeared, it was ready for publication in the Herald.


. . Acrostic . .

Whistling Heroes

Sea carried earth to the doom of Baldur's Gate,
Off wood were the coffins that held a dark fate,
Inside a foul mind that did tiller vast hate,
Lady Vernossa she who hunted our heads of state!

Soon wandered a whistle hailing heroes to fore,
Ho i hear brave sailorly souls did rise and soar,
In fine wood of their own they cast off the safe shore,
Pursuit of dire risk to the Flame of Baldur,
Sang the crew and comrades "We will end you forevermore!"

Soo rallied a hero to the enemies duress,
And exploded the fireship drowning hate in the depths,
Now slain by hand Vernossa was bedecked with death,
Know all who hear the victory of the Whistling Wanderess!


Time had been taken over the techniques of this poem, a little more than the usual short recounts of experience and scribbled notes, as well as a little poetic licence with grammar and spellings. Jakk sat back in his secluded seat at the Elfsong Tavern reading the rest of the news in the Herald and couldn't help feeling a little bit proud of his part in researching the poem. Pride, it was not something Jakk felt a lot off, an unusual emotion to say the least . . .

[BigJ]

Open stage night at the White Mask Theatre and a chance to see performers on stage, how he envied the ability to stand atop that mountainous stage in front of a crowded audience. Jakk didn't like crowds, didn't like audiences, but he couldn't hide from the envy of those that did.

Eight performers rose from the audience to lay bare their talents for all to see. Jakk was engrossed by them all, some for their words, some their performance, some confident, some not. Jakk expected to vote for his friends at the Herald but couldn't help being moved by the obviously nervous lad and the words he spoke.

Scribbling notes through each rendition regarding the theme of 'Arrivals' Jakk noticed love being repeated through the works on view. Love, another emotion he didn't fully comprehend but he left the theatre with a little more understanding of it, and was thankful of that.

A little while later he sat in a quiet corner of the Elfsong Tavern reading his notes, with a glass of milk and some supper, then the following lines appeared in honour of the eight performers he'd seen that night . .


. . Refrain / Roundelay . .

A Night at the Theatre

I went to the theatre and watched the comings and goings,
Of brotherly arms to lean on when love has left its mark,
Of Twinkle stars afore yawn at dawn cycle abound in the dark,
Of wandering winds bearing forgiveness so hate may be cast off and lost,
Of a misty muse whispering joy and love into the open heart made soft,
I went to the theatre and arrived, hopeful and keen.

I went to the theatre and watched the comings and goings,
Of love un-blossomed when Autumn kills the spring then winter takes all chance away,
Of GroomBrooms flying from a witches clutches and sweeping a man to stay,
Of lone uncle Willie with no fame to his name, kept moving on, kept living on,
Of good fortune doubted, envied, yet should always be embraced so two make one,
I went to the theatre and departed, thankful and serene.

.

[BigJ]

A recent arrival from the south finishes unpacking in his new room at the Blade & Stars, satisfied everything is in its rightful place in this new room he now sits with a book in his lap and a weasel on his shoulder . .

"This should do for us now Pippa, even though we shall be out of this room a lot more than the last everything still needs a proper place within it"

He affectionately smiles at the weasel then places a hand on the single rune etched into the cover of the book and utters some arcane words.

"Time to let Jakk know we are here, the poor chap did seem quite unsettled with the ills that befell this city recently"

As he pulls the book cover open the blank pages flick immediately to a page that did contain some writing in the form of a letter.

"Oh, it seems my dear Pippa Jakk has already written again, we may have arrived just in time, take a look . . "

Sandy,

I can't get the battle out of my head. Undead everywhere, bleedin' thousands of'em. I like a stand up fight just as much as the next man but battlefields ... well, neither of us do well in a crowd now do we my friend.

So I'm off north, maybe Neverwinter, see if I can shake off these images stuck in my head. That means if you want more material to use in your writing you'll have to come get it yourself, and its about bleedin' time fella. I say this as your friend, you need to finally get out that room in Athkatla and experience the Coast like the Headmaster told you to.

Twenty years in a library Sandy, I'd thought you'd be here by now.

It been a privilege fella and I've learnt a lot from you but time you walked the road, not just read about it.

Jakk.

Sandy sits in silence before finally reaching for a quill. "We had best write back immediately Pippa, hopefully Jakk will read it before he leaves. It would be nice to see him again in person". He waves a hand over the page whilst speaking some arcane words and the letter disappears. He then writes the following on the page in the Twin Book of Sending . .

Jakk,

I have already arrived and have taken a room at the Blade & Stars. You are right to push me my friend, it is time. If you read this before leaving it would be good to see you, if not then may safe travels and fairs winds find you.

Sandy.

The next day two friends sit and talk for hours in the Blade & Stars, then one leaves for the docks whilst the other watches the bustle of a city from a window, with a weasel on his shoulder.

[BigJ]

Article as printed in the BG Herald, Vol 2 Issue 3.

Tipping Points

Within the balance of life there are often moments we are faced with that can represent great change. A choice, a reflex, it maybe a moment you yourself have no control over; they represent a fork in the road, a division in your fate and whilst most can have gentle influence over your destiny there are those that can bring irreversible change. A fork in the road that no longer bends to the left or right but instead is a cliff edge that you either turn away from or risk careering over spiralling downwards, a point of no return, a tipping point.

To some tipping points are the ultimate challenge, a line to run towards to take the greatest risk as they believe that there within lies the most reward, on the edge. To others it is a faraway place as they endeavour to lead a life of relative safety but even they may have a tipping point forced upon them. Finally there are those that are pushed to the edge through desperate need, a bare desire, they step to the edge believing they can hold the balance steady and then an unforeseen plump parrot lands on their shoulder and quietly whispers "over we go", and over they do.

It is within this last example that we arrive at one of the greatest tipping points in our history, a tipping point of such magnitude that it not only brought about the fall of a great empire that had lasted some 3000 years, but also changed magic on Toril forever. I of course refer to Karsus and the fall of Netheril.

Here we have a man who was a prodigy, magic came so easily too him that it required no discipline and little studying to accomplish. By the age of 22 he matched the power of his peers by carving off the top of a mountain, turning it upside down and floating it in the sky to create his very own city. I do not jest, this was the power of great wizards in this time.

However what is easily gained is often given little value, Karsus had neither the experience or the inclination to rule his people well and over time the seeds of resentment grew to threaten rebellion. There were also murderers in his streets and foreign enemies at his gates. You see Karsus did not run towards his tipping point, he was pushed there and as magical power was all he knew it was within this he sought the answer to his problems. He stood upon the edge and as the plump parrot landed and whispered Karsus not only stepped off he indeed leapt for the power of the gods, for the briefest of moments he grasped it.

The Gods however do not allow such things to pass and as the previous Goddess of magic, Mystryl, sacrificed herself to prevent one man's folly then all magic momentarily ceased sending Karsus plummeting to his fate; as he fell so did the empire fall that he desired to protect. Mystra, the new goddess of magic upon seeing what men would do with limitless power shackled the weave forever so mortals would not reach such heights again.

There, within just one man's tipping point, we have irrevocable change that altered Toril forever and still effects us all to this day. A stark warning indeed.

So remember Karsus's Folly when faced with your own tipping points, do not run towards them do not entertain the belief that all is within your control to balance on the edge. Consider whom else will be effected should you topple over and most important of all, watch out for plump parrots.

The Ugly Poet.

[BigJ]

Poem as appeared in the BG Herald, vol 2 issue 3

A Sparrow upon the Gate

A sparrow sails upon the sea breeze,
with consummate ease he lands upon the reddening woman of scale,
his eyes avail the scene
near the wavy current queen,
startled by men with hands of fire
and a cartel of noble sires,
sparrow spreads his feathers wide and able
then flies to spy a coin collectors table,
now he turns the tiller to surf the royal gate.

A sparrow rises upon the richly air,
without a care he falls upon a roof with hat and shawl attire,
then within the pages many gleans
why seven suns alight the scene,
colour pure cream hides the face yet stages
the lucky hat made by the faith of three sages,
by the towering magic at the onset of R's
buys muddy might for the sparrow in arms,
bows to the stone jailed jewels then turns east for a feast.

A sparrow walks tiredly upon the wind,
with lazy sin he comes to listen upon the spritely singing elf,
amongst the trade of many a teller
hears of a triad of righteous sellers,
the sparrow warms to a kindly cat
but scurries from a scarlet snake,
fear in wake he flies by magic mystery
seeking nest to rest and dream blissfully,
so battles the moon peacefully with the sword of stars.

Sandy reflected many of the highlighted sights he had seen walking around the districts of Baldur's Gate within this poem. Still, as he looked through the new issue of the Herald if couldn't help but appreciate the talents of Telia in putting it together again. With all the distractions around Pathfinder Hall it was commendable she still fount the time for the printed word and recording events. Deneir does surely smile upon her efforts.

He then flicked the pages to read what his future may hold by the divinations of Miss Aeili.