Sounds of Skaljard (Poem)

Composed by Helneka, 186AR

A guide for those who chase the sound,
Where secrets sleep beneath the ground.
In Skaljard's snow, let hints be found -
Where verse and silence share the ground.

Each line a thread through frost and stone,
To places cold and overgrown.
Seek not the path with eyes alone -
But listen close, and you'll be shown.

 -- +++ +++ +++ --

Not all tunes sleep in cave or glade -
Some dwell in hearts where songs are made.
By firelit bench or market sound,
They hum the tune Frostbound Round.

The local tongues may guard it tight,
Wrapped close in pride and winter's bite.
But charm them well, and they may sing-
Of frost, of faith, of lingering spring.

 -- +++ +++ +++ --

A flame burns bright where footfalls cross,
Where paths converge in snow and frost.
New blades and names still yet unknown
Are drawn to warmth, not theirs alone.

A hymn once hummed by cloaked and stern
Still lingers low where watchfires burn.
Its rhythm steady, calm, and wide -
The Sentinel's Song stands at their side.

 -- +++ +++ +++ --

Where stone is split by time and tide,
And echoes deep through cliffside wide,
A narrow path the brave might trace -
To find the sea wind's salt-laced grace.

By ships that creak in shadowed berth,
Men chant of storms and blood and mirth.
A Sea Shanty swells with every wave,
A pirate's vow, a song half made.

 -- +++ +++ +++ --

Past ruins choked by vine and tree,
Where towers sleep in root and scree,
A narrow span on cliff's cold edge
Leads onward like a broken pledge.

There swings a soul by rope and wrath,
A warning set beside the path.
His silence hums a cursed refrain -
The Doomtempest Dirge, carved into pain.

 -- +++ +++ +++ --

Below where snow and silence reign,
Lies Skaldark - deep, obscene, arcane.
The slimeways churn in greenish gloom -
A world beneath Skaljard's own tomb.

At center fume where gas-lights gleam,
A pulsing cube begins to scream.
Its melody - a warped cascade,
A wet and wretched Slime Serenade.

 -- +++ +++ +++ --

Where Skaldark twists in deeper gloom,
And cultists chant in shadow's womb,
There lies a hall of whispered craft -
Where light and truth are torn in half.

A statue veiled in endless shade
Smiles with a grin that gods betrayed.
Its silence hums with riddled spite -
The Deceptive Ditty masks the night.

 -- +++ +++ +++ --

Where frostbite nips the Northern Trails,
And Minotaur scent rides bitter gales,
A cave lies veiled by drift and pine,
With leathers displayed on hanging lines.

Their snares sing soft with metal's ring,
And boots mark paths that loop and cling.
With steady hands and steps in tune,
They hum the rhythm of the Trapper's tune

 -- +++ +++ +++ --

Halfway to peaks where breath runs thin,
A cabin waits through snow and din.
With bench and bow and kindled fire,
It hums with trails that never tire.

Here rangers rest and mend their gear,
While whistling tunes the wolves might hear.
A steady beat, both sharp and sound -
The mountain calls The Ranger's Round.

 -- +++ +++ +++ --

Where mountain trails split sharp and wide,
And breath turns ice in lungs inside,
Foul beasts and frost in silence wait -
At fork where fear and courage mate.

King's Crown blooms through snow's cruel hand,
Its gold defies the white-cloaked land.
The wind there hums a haunting slant -
A frozen hymn: The Chilling Chant.

 -- +++ +++ +++ --

Above the world where cold is king,
And winds like dying heroes sing,
The peak awaits with hoard and flame -
Where white death plays a dangerous game.

Few reach the height where silence groans,
Where scale and fang guard frozen thrones.
One final cry `fore sails emerge -
Their legacy: The Draconic Dirge.

 -- +++ +++ +++ --

So fade the notes in hearth and hall,
As snow begins its patient fall.
A glance behind - then none at all -
The road ahead must heed the call.

From songs once hummed by fire's glow,
To peaks where only dreamers go,
Skaljard remains in heart and sound -
When first of friends are met and found.