Posted at Night



  • Posted around the town most especially the dock region, in dark corners and on disused walls.

    To dusk off quill? It’s time I think.
    to ready parchment, buy some ink.
    What’s that you cry? You thought me gone?
    Well yes, but here’s another song.
    When rumour comes of election times
    A social poet dusts off rhymes
    And readies himself to sound his thoughts
    To seek again the times he sought.
    A golden era for this city?
    Not yet I think and mores the pity.
    But here we have a chance again
    To vote for women and for men
    Who might make this the place they should
    Might, from their thrones, once do some good.
    And so I tell you people fair,
    Listen well, do not despair.
    Once all is underway you know
    I’ll spread the word, some light I’ll throw
    On all I hear and see and think
    Of good and of corruptions stink
    I’ll never balk to say my mind
    And one day mayhap a jail cell find
    For those I speak of oft don’t care
    To here the truth I will not spare.
    For now I let you know I’m here
    Listening with critical ear
    My words will come, in all due time
    For, ever, I was made to rhyme.

    The Shadow Poet



  • ((Posted in the usual places now the city seems to have calmed following the elections))

    **Darkness

    Darkness
    Surrounding everything
    Blurring faces
    Leaving only shapes
    Swathed in cloaks
    Moving through the city
    Show no mercy, no pity
    I walk with them
    And amongst them
    Just another dark figure
    I watch and listen
    See blood glisten
    Nothing new under the sun
    Nothing new under the moon
    I shall sleep soon
    Sweet release from truths
    A chance for change wasted
    The future barely tasted
    Then cast aside
    In favour of the power
    In favour of the money
    A fair election
    Or simply resurrection
    Of the corruption
    That we tried to stand against
    Life is not fair
    It never was and never more shall be
    But we hoped and tried
    We set ourselves against the tide
    The loss I suffer is in seeing
    The people I love
    The city I adore
    Ground under foot once more
    The paladins may do their best
    Outnumbered by the rest
    To make the Jewel shine pure
    But in truth, against the money
    There is no cure
    And so I watch the shapes
    The hidden faces
    Whilst within me
    Darkness.

    The Shadow Poet**



  • It’s time! It’s Time!
    Today’s the day!
    With greed and corruption
    To do away!
    It’s time to Vote! To Vote! To Vote!
    Then Drink enough to float a Boat!
    Eowiel! Eowiel!
    This Poet knows the Vote will Tell!
    Will Tell that people here now know
    That your way is the way to go!
    You know the people! You’ve seen them sweat
    You’ve seen them bleed and better yet
    You’ve seen how much they want to make
    This City the Pride of the whole damned Lake
    Eowiel! Eowiel!
    My votes will soon be cast as well!
    Vote 1 Vote 1 for Eowiel
    This is the time, the time to tell
    Corruption and greed to get the hell
    Out of our Senate
    Out of our City
    Out of our lives
    It’s time to vote, to vote for Change!
    To Vote for a future!
    Is it so strange
    So vote! So Vote!
    Eowiel!
    It’s time to make
    Your voices tell!

    The Shadow Poet



  • Posted in places not guarded by thugs

    **War has come to Narfell’s lands
    So sing out loud and strike up bands
    To win this we’ll need many hands
    On our effort Peltarch stands

    Eastlander’s try to kill our folk
    We will not bow to bandit yoke
    We not let them our trade choke
    So fires of war we swiftly stoke

    Too long have people feared to tread
    The pass for fear they’d end up dead
    So now we make it run with red
    The blood of Eastland foes instead

    Strike up the drums, strap on your sword
    We fight not for a dragon’s hoard
    We fight so peace may be restored
    And so our children’s future can be assured

    For those that fall we will give voice
    We will not despair, we will rejoice
    For each knows they made the right choice
    To march when Peltarch’s flag was hoist.

    And Hero’s tales have come to me
    So many but I’ll speak of three
    Zyphlin fighting bandit champs fiercely
    Mariston’s charge on a dragon he did see

    And then, of course, of Eowiel
    To rescue supplies she went through hell
    Slaying pirates, and bandits as well
    And in the battle’s how her magic did tell

    They will not speak their own parts loud
    They are your servants, are not proud
    It falls to me to rouse the crowd
    To shine their light through darkness’ shroud

    When battle’s done and foe is gone
    Peltarch’s glory must live on
    These three have truly outshone
    With actions bold and hearts so strong

    So when the eastlanders are dust
    Vote for Eowiel, in whom I trust
    Mariston Thel we know is just
    Or Vote for Zyphlin, if you must. The Shadow Poet**



  • (((Unusual places, but plentiful copies. SLIGHT ADULT CONTENT)))

    The time has come the walrus said
    To speak of many things
    Of senate seats and noble fools
    Of drunken, bed-hoppings.
    It’s time to talk of Noble Rath
    The Ashald family jester
    A man who given half a chance
    Would any woman pester.
    No morals he, no foolish hopes
    To ever be the best
    He’s happy drinking and shagging
    A total noble pest.
    He takes your coin and spends it well
    On things he’d like to do
    Like Jessica and Annabelle
    Chloe and Stacey too.
    Richard, Paul and Phillipa
    Perhaps a sheep or two.
    He drinks so much he cannot tell
    Exactly who he’s had
    But never fear, he’s pretty sure
    He never had his dad.
    And there he stands, or staggers, true
    And claims to help you cause
    But only so that he can on your
    Daughters get his paws.
    An answer though, I offer you
    A way to change this farce
    Vote for senators who will
    Kick him out on his arse.
    Vote number one for Eowiel
    Is this old minstrels plea
    My beard may be shot-through with grey
    But these truths I still see
    That half-wit noble drunken sots
    Are not good for your city.
    Vote number two for Mariston
    Or Zyphlin. Mog maybe.
    We need some senators who care
    For you and yours you see.
    And not the kind of pointless ass
    Even seafarers think a dick
    Who’s hardest thinking every day
    Is where next to shove his prick.

    The Shadow Poet



  • In different places…

    They seek me here,
    They seek me there,
    They chew their lips,
    And tear their hair.
    I’ll not be silenced
    Not be stopped
    The King of Coins
    His power cropped
    His goons will never
    Find the voice
    That speaks of hope
    That speaks of Choice
    That calls on one
    And calls on all
    To cast a vote
    For Vaster’s fall
    To cast vote one
    For Eowiel
    And then vote two for
    Maristol Thel
    Or Zyphlin maybe
    Mog’s not so bad
    But not the rest
    It is so sad
    They’ve sold their souls
    To evil greed
    And lost the sight
    Of Peltarch’s need
    The Ashald’s power
    Must be cropped
    And this wise man
    Will not be stopped

    The Shadow Poet


  • Council of Moradin

    In these usual spots you will notice groups of rather unfriendly looking men wandering around. The guards seem to ignore them.



  • **It’s time again to pass the time
    In idly scrawling skilful rhyme
    As you know my current topic is
    This senatorial election biz
    It fills our minds all day and night
    With speech and rally, they all do fight
    To grab attention of us folk
    Well I’m here to give a friendly poke
    To each of them that wants out vote
    That stands and reels off speech by rote

    Each seeks for power, each wants a bite
    Of the cherry that we die and fight
    For every time our foes attack
    And each one claims to have our back
    Yet each of us still feels the pain
    Each has known people slain
    Each feels hunger, each feels cold
    As for pittances our work is sold
    We are not slaves, we are free men
    Wait? Run that one by me again?

    Is a warrior senate what we need?
    Or an Ashald brat, spawned for greed?
    A half-orc crafter making laws?
    Each telling you what’s theirs is yours.
    The truth is that it’s us that counts
    We have the power in large amounts
    We vote. We set the future course.
    This race, it only has one horse.
    No matter who you give vote two
    Mariston, Zyphlin, Clandra too
    Vote first with heart, and mind as well
    And cast a vote for Eowiel.**

    The Shadow Poet



  • Usual places

    The farmer’s in the Dell, The farmer’s in the Dell
    His life is hard, his work is to, he toils hard as hell
    The Seafarer’s watch and laugh, his goods are theirs to sell
    They do no work, but make good coin, somehow they do compel
    The common folk to work like this, a rat I’m sure I smell
    How do these sailors, ruffians, thugs, these lords of ocean swell
    Make farmers work for little coin, I’m sure they’ll never tell
    Yet somehow they must have a grip on the farmers hollow shell
    As hunger eats him from within, with coin their coffers swell
    And how do you the common man, this inequality quell
    It’s simple and I’ll tell you now, Vote for Eowiel

    The Shadow Poet



  • Deacon can be seen grinning, looking at the dockside posts

    Finally, one o' 'em bards gettin' it right! Hear hear!



  • In the usual places, one copy finding it's way into a certain cupboard in the Bardic College

    Every night I walk the streets
    Of Peltarchs darkest parts
    Where hunger reigns and chill winds blow
    Ice cold through poor men's hearts
    Each man and woman, babe and child
    Longs for prosperity's hearth
    So here me when I tell of one
    Eager to lead us down that path
    Noble not through blood, but deeds
    Elven bard, Cerulean Knight
    Let emerald hair and emerald eyes
    Lead us back into the light
    And ensure the Jewel with glisten bright

    The Shadow Poet



  • Posted throughout Peltarch, though mostly in the Docks district

    **It’s time at last, I know you’ve waited
    Stomachs empty, breath held bated
    It’s time to tell what I will say
    Of politics and powers sway
    Of candidates and platforms too
    Of who I think will think of you
    When on their thrones with wine in hand
    Gazing imperious across our land
    They sit at last and must come through
    On all the things they promised you.
    Let us look at who now feels
    That they should guide our Cities wheels

    Chaevre’s gone and we rejoice
    At least our dead will have a choice
    Then Zyphlin, a bard of great renown
    I truly hope they don’t send him down
    Mog, well what is there to say
    I’m sure he’ll understand one day
    That Senators must serve only you
    And not take order’s from other’s who
    Don’t even live in, this, our home
    Who’s duties call for him to roam
    A crafter yes, good with his hands,
    But a legionnaire who understands
    Only following the General’s Orders
    And defending Jiyyd’s more hostile borders.

    Of Mariston I’ll speak no ill,
    A Paladin of true good will
    Who’s heart is true, his right arm strong
    Who by definition can brook no wrong.
    Not true though of Lord Aarron’s heart
    A noble who claims to know your part
    A man who says he’s born to rule
    And tries to play you for a fool
    By claiming that he’ll save the day
    By giving up his senators pay?
    I somehow doubt he’ll waste away
    Like you who live on dockers pay
    After all he’s Seafarer’s Pawn
    Does he think we were only this day born?

    Tidus Clodpin? Fisher kings Heir?
    Ludicrous! I do not care
    What documents he claims to show
    For any that know Peltarch know
    That Tidus left no heirs at all
    I hope to see him quickly fall
    Into the past, forgotten there
    For his mad ideas I do not care.
    Then last of all the green haired elf
    Who at least comes with quite a wealth
    Of experience and Peltarch Lore
    She’s lived here twenty years and more
    So that’s the Litany I tell
    Vote Mariston and Eowiel.

    Biased yes, of course I am
    It every pundits rightful place
    But I, like you, would see Peltarch gain
    By whoever can finally win this race.**

    The Shadow Poet



  • ::Zora Montague's melodic laugh is heard as he sits in the commons, shoulders shaking with mirth as he listens to a few commoners talk of the shadow poet's recent rhyme::

    "Oh, oh brother-" ::He states, catching his breath, fending off the chuckles, not to mention the grin hugging his lips:: "So this poet's going to give us all the dirt on all the nasty nasty polititians, huh?"

    ::Finally, manages to gasp a breath, grinning, he lays back on his bench, producing a color spray card and absently flicking it from one finger to another, inclining head as he speaks:: "This I gotta see."



  • Walking by on the way to the brothel to talk some sense into those girls, Alejandra sees the posting on the wall, and as she reads her hands clench to her breast with a glimmer in her eye. A deep breath as her fancies take her to a place in her mind where a man writes of hope, love, and peace just for her before she sets herself again and continues her walk.