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.
The Wanderer's Wish
If I died in your arms,
Where would you lay me?
If I needed to be helped,
Would you come and save me?
All these questions that could be asked,
The answers, I need never know.
For they are locked away,
Only you know how high the roses will grow.
The colour of our roses,
Bloom in burgundy and blue,
Thorns of hatred are blunt;
Isn't this the way we grew?
A fragrance beyond all encounters,
Deep colours like blood flow,
Into our hearts, deepening this love;
Only you know, how high the roses will grow.
Foreword (The Garden)
Garden is a small shire, within the boundaries of the sinister Nothing. The people, both animated and mortal, keep their shire clean and beautiful. They also protect their shire from natural foes. Life is usually calm and tranquil in this serene shire, known as Garden.
Nothing's infamous tyrant, Natas, wants most, if not all, of Nothing under his total control. He usually leaves Garden alone. That is until he gets bored with his demonic means of entertainment.
The actual land mass, Nothing, is surrounded by a shallow void; namely "Nothing's Void". To the northern tip of Nothing, across it's Void, lies the Ancient Lands. It was there, were the Ancients would wander (and wonder) about. I say used to; as they were all wiped out by an unpleasant plague. The inhabitants of Nothing, were protected from this horrid plague by the sheer vastness of Nothing's Void.
In the following poems and letters, you will have the opportunity of getting to know most of the Inhabitants; most, not all. You will meet the Wanderer, who with the use of his TRIPPER (Time Rectifier in Parallel Places, Envelope Runner), visits the Ancients.
A fact, which you might find startling, is that Garden, Nothing, and their inhabitants actually exist. There is a piece of the Wanderer, in all of us. What's more, Nothing and Garden aren't that far away. Everything has it's good with it's bad.
Everywhere you look, there is a fragment of Nothing in what you see.
The tempest’s bright white snakes had bitten Saracere,
In turn, the Assistant’s hidden fortress was ablaze.
Who says good things don’t come from bad,
Or that nights can’t turn into days.
The blaze had destroyed the thick foliage,
That concealed Saracere’s now blackened walls.
If it wasn’t for the tempest’s violent actions,
The Eleven would not have seen the ominous Ghouls.
The Ghouls are Natas’s masters of ambush,
They are said to have come from the Ancient Lands.
Ghouls sneak up from behind their unwitting prey,
Attacking in vile and feverish bands.
Today wasn’t their day, no not at all,
They had lost their element of surprise.
The Eleven conquered Saracere in simplicity,
As the tempest had opened their blind eyes.
Written by Dincara 1985-1986 Currently being illustrated by Ettenyl Laeb
The Dihpa have scoured the countryside,
They have rewarded me, with what I want to know.
A force on the East Coast, another on the West;
Now I can get on with this, the ultimate show.
Raspitur is creating some new Shadow creatures,
But I can't wait for them to be conceived.
I have learnt from previous mistakes with Garden,
Personally a different goal will be achieved.
I've selected the best of my numerous mobs,
They will soon be on surprise attacks.
I will use them as a diversion for the others,
Whom have renamed themselves as the Maniax.
The Maniax comprise of Shadow Creatures,
All remaining Sorties, Gubs, and many more.
They, like me, bear an insatiable hunger,
For the forthcoming blood, sweat, and gore.
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.
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.