The following poems are related.
Yes, they are.
To kill is my job, their death is my trust
Breath is to breath, may dust turn to dust.
Hawk-like eyes behind his raven-black hair
In the distance, a moving shadow has caught his stare.
Heavily cloaked, with hood-darkened face,
His boots fall faster, as he moves with haste.
Leaving tracks in the foliage, the snow fall slows
Moving eastward with the breeze, as the winter wind blows.
The dagger at his chest flashes in the light
The man in the distance moves forward, not knowing his plight.
Holding down his hood, he is drawing near.
Paid for this job, there’s nothing to fear
Walking away, he cleans his sword
The red-stained snow frozen on the fjord.
Mercenary, bound by coins to this fate
He has little to love, for his job’s to hate.
Sheathing his sword, he stifles a sigh.
But in the valley, he hears a cry.
Will he go for aid, like a knight in armor
Or go back to the fields, like a tenant farmer?
Spells are a charm, mana a friend
Some will destroy, while others will mend.
A hood pulled over he hazel-brown hair
Even with the snow, the sun has it’s glare
Away from her land on a dangerous mission
She’s to find the bandits, as was the commission.
Her family, bound by the lord in his castle
Forced to farm land as unpaid vassals.
She’ll pay off their debt as soon as she can
Find the evil bandits, and rid them from the land.
Suddenly, from nowhere, they seem to appear.
Scared, she swings her staff as they draw near.
Hit one on the head, the other his chest
It seems as this was a no-brainer quest.
Casting a spell, she summons a storm
The bandits leave with haste as it starts to take form.
The job is finished, the money at hand
Soon she’ll be traveling back to her land.
But alas, as she walks, a shadow appears.
The beating of wings are arousing her fears.
Scared to look up, she lets out a cry
There’s no certainty she’ll get a reply.
My honor is my dignity, my skill is my pride.
Respect is still earned by stepping aside.
A small frown on his young scarred face
Hidden by his hair on his silent chase.
Dressed with a cloak in knightly style
He is the type that can make others smile.
Staring through wind-blown snow he sees
A man in the distance, with much unease.
He stifles a laugh in contemplation
As this irony’s a double damnation.
He’s tracing a mercenary who’s tracing another
But he’s on a search for his long-lost brother.
The knight of a castle and the knight of a king
For whom this knight obeyed since he did kiss the ring.
However, his castle sieged and his king dethroned
He’s no longer noble, but is one disowned.
With much hope lost, he hopes to find his kin
Before death do them part for man’s greatest sin.
But he cannot believe what he has just seen
It’s only in scrolls, for youth in their teens.
A growl in the clouds, a flash in the sky.
A burst of red flame, a shivering cry.
Even a thief has people they must trust
There are some times where one must act just.
Her long dark hair, flowing past her neck
Blowing in the wind as she walks on this trek.
In search of a long-loved childhood friend
She won’t give up til she meets her end.
A thief by trade, she’s light with her feet
Her strides are swift, her steps discrete.
Even in the snow, she loses no speed
Following footprints, she will succeed.
On the ground to her left, a dark glove sticks out
To the right, a tan pouch, her friend’s, no doubt.
In a zigzag pattern, belongings have been scattered
Most of them torn, others tattered.
She feels tears in her eyes, her heart feels weak.
A small slow stream runs down her cheek.
She can’t be too late, there was nothing she could do
She lost her best friend, he was all she knew.
Choking back tears, anger brews inside her.
She reaches for her dagger, vision a blur.
But beside her feet there lies a note
“Beware the dragon”, was all he wrote.
The outlook wasn’t brilliant for the young mage girl that day;
The snow was falling fast, and the sky was a light gray.
And when a shadow fell before her, and another one the same,
A pall-like silence fell upon her as the sky was lit aflame.
Struggling, she got up, even in despair. She pressed
The small last hope she had, right against her chest.
She thought, “If only I had some friends, or a small party at that
I wouldn’t give up hope, and my chances wouldn’t be flat.
But silence filled the air, the wind; not a sound did make.
A single growl filled the sky, for the dragon was awake.
So upon the young mage girl, a grim melancholy sat,
For there seems but little chance she’d win in this combat.
The roar cracked the heavens, and its landing held a quake
She chanted a final spell, for her dear life was at stake.
A flash lit up the sky, as she stunned the beast with lightning
But the dragon, unaffected, got back up, twice as frightening.
From five hundred miles away could be heard the dragon’s yell;
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell.
An arrow singing loudly, it’s course was straight and true,
From a cloaked and hooded mercenary, was where it’s aim was drew.
The was ease in this man’s manner as he stepped from his high perch;
There was pride in this man’s bearing, wielding a wooden bow of birch.
And when the dragon started and growled in furious rage
The mercenary prepared himself, this war he was to wage.
Then thousand feet above him, the clouds grew dark with rain
The skies were crying out in hope, for this was Elisbind’s bane.
The dragon stuck out with his claws; claws sharp as metal swords
Both mage and merc avoided them, unlike some unfortunate lords.
The dragon struck with scale lined tail, giving out a roar;
The dark hooded mercenary, did he send asoar.
Hitting tree, bush and branches, the mercenary flew
But the mage uttered a healing spell and he was brought anew.
Running out of mana, with few arrows to spare;
The dragon takes another pounce, but is caught in midair.
A thief, atop the dragon’s head, slashes with her might.
The dragon, flinging her from his head, sends her on a flight.
Again the healer casts a spell, but is now fully drained;
Falling into snow and ice, even breathing is a strain.
It seems as though all hope is lost, the battle can’t be won;
The dragon, preparing final fire, is sure they’re to be done.
The dragon shoots a burst of flame, the three stand side by side;
Clutching hands, the three new friends all stare at flame wide-eyed.
Flame hits iron with a long loud hiss, the dragon looks astounded;
For standing ahead, with engraved shield, a knight with them surrounded.
With sword, arrow, and sharpened dagger, the dragon gets pushed back.
Precariously perched upon an edge, the dragon fends attacks.
And lo, behold, the dragon tumbles, down the snowy height;
Thrown down, worn and bleeding, the dragon has been smite.
With final strength, the raging beast opens its wings again;
The knight, albeit broken leg, crawls to the edge in pain.
And leaping off, his friends confused, look on with fear and woe;
A swishing sword, a roaring beast, a body hitting snow.
Oh, somewhere in this favored land, the sun is shining bright;
The bards are playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light.
The mighty dragon has been slain; let the news be spread.
But only three are at a loss; a friend and brother is dead.
The poem above was written to emulate “Casey at the Bat”. Undoubtedly, it’s a bad emulation.
After all, they’re two completely different themes.