Aeron is the first celtic female warrior character, designed by 3D Poetry. The wallpapers reflect her custom features
Cant you See
Bow and Sword
For the Girls
So Sayeth Aeron
Cold is Coming
What is Next
Aeron Strike a Pose
Aerons Summer Collection
Aeron Snow Fire
Aeron Getting Closer
Just For Fun
WIP Aeron Hair
WIP Aeron the Pict
We are Back
The following poems are randomly selected from part A of the Garden series.
If you are patient, the whole story may appear. There is a doorway on this site, that will open to the poetry collection, both in context and complexity.
Descendant of the Dark
HAH !!! Do you think that you can keep me out? Yes, yes, you. The mere mortal that you are.
Well now, before you even think about closing your eyes, or looking elsewhere, think. Are the knees getting a bit weak? I, am going to grant you an interesting opportunity. And that is to be, that you shall meet and be introduced to my fellow assistants.
Since I'm in such a good mood, strange as it may be, I'll even release you. You may return back to that humble Garden if you so desire. It is there, if you wish to, that you may protect it's inferior beings. If you can!
A mortal! Hah, hah, hah! Has the Wanderer taken leave of his senses?
Take this, this imbecile to meet his destiny.
Ho Hum, it's hard at the top. I've done it again, haven't I? I've forgotten to introduce myself. Fancy that. But, then again, everyone knows that I'm Natas, Descendant of the Dark. Lord of the Infidel.
They came from crook and cranny,
Within and around the monstrous Two Towers.
Natas was speaking words of evil wisdom,
Upon the crowd that had gathered in the last few hours.
All forms and shapes of Assistants came to Mephisot,
Forming a large army at the base of it's walls.
They continued to flock for numerous hours,
Shouting answers in unison to Natas's war calls.
Sicta and Verda were made Bosses of the Flyers.
Gnal and Mian were made Bosses of the ground forces.
Natas started dividing both sets into two parts,
Giving each Boss their own strategic course.
Very soon the Bosses were to go on the move,
Taking their followers on a definite course of action.
Natas had all the time in the millennium,
To sit down and laugh at Kindaals reaction.
Nothing's Inhabitants pt 2
I too belong to this Garden,
To even the balance of Evil and Good.
My mission, humble as it is,
Is to infiltrate the roots of all good.
The Wanderer I must avoid,
As only he can destroy me.
His vigil is second to none,
Always ready with his army.
I slipped by unnoticed by the Wanderer,
Beginning my attack underground;
Taking by surprise the succulent beauties,
Trembling at the mere mention of my heartless sound.
What's this, the table is turned,
The killer about to be killed.
No mercy to be shown.
Once again, the mission is unfulfilled.
East Coast ( Ferral's Thoughts )
We've been waiting for Hasten's return,
As he should have returned by now.
Maybe, he's still resting up with Kindaal;
Maybe, he's only away by an hour.
Since he's been gone, things have been stirring.
I think that we are awfully close to the Towers,
Because the fires and chanting are alive;
I don't know if they are Natas's or ours.
I sent a scout out to confirm my thoughts.
He returned to tell me of the Assistant's retreat;
How they were running scared from something,
Unaware of what, he couldn't see through Between's heat.
I do wish Hasten would speed things up,
So I could attack, instead of this dreary wait.
I so wish, Hasten would give me Kindaal's orders,
So that I could seal Natas's deserved fate.
The Preacher, is what I am known as,
Although I rarely preach of the Great One.
I am a master of arms, subtle and harrowing,
Many a bloody, tireless battle I have won.
My reputation strikes fear into the infidel,
As they know of my savage battle skill.
Occasionally I will show them some mercy;
Mercy in the sense of a swift kill.
My elders, our fathers, the Prayer,
Are even more vicious in any fight.
Their intentions are for the larger prey,
Like the Sloth flying amongst the candle light.
Yes, we live a barbarous life,
Yet at times we are a serene choir.
But a warning must be heeded;
When angered we have the rage of fire.
A Modest Tender
I was born to be gentle, yet powerful;
If only the Ancients knew, what I know.
For I am wiser than the Elder Ancients;
Considering I was conceived a million millenniums ago.
I am the youngest of my relations,
However, I have far more important duties.
They range from assisting the blind with light,
To giving enough warmth to the little cuties.
My closest friends, the Nooms, are also Tenders,
In the sense, that they carry out what I do.
Well Not as much, they can be quite lazy,
But I consider them as my nocturnal shoe.
Only one, is greater than myself, Emalf,
Being the Only One, who created me, you as well.
The Great One has many names and faces.
The God of gods, persuader of the infidel.