# Poetry at Crossroads



## Ultraroel (Jun 10, 2016)

Hey Guys,

When I was 15 I used to play Larp. 
I haven't done this in ages, but me and a friend always had plans to play Goblin Musicians that would be mostly annoying.
Now, I started writing in January and I decided the plans we had, might actually do really well as a story.

So, I started writing an introduction to the story and wondered what you guys thought.
Honestly, It might be a bit early to post, but I just wanted to see whether people like the idea 

____

"Hurry up already!"

The jeer was clearly audible amidst the chaos around Swort. He and his companions played a merry, though completely off-key melody. People said you needed to master an instrument, if you wanted to call yourself a musician. Swort was the master of an instrument and thought that was more than enough to call himself one. He scanned the crowd one more time, rows of the crowd taken from his vision by the huge fire only a few feet away. His lips curled into a smile slightly, while he used the wooden stick to pound the drum vigorously. The crowd brought a lot of gold and coins. Unlike drumming itself, climbing the upturned handcart while drumming wasn't easy.

The crowd was getting rowdy on the right hand side of the crossroads. Trolls never liked to be kept waiting. Anything else than right now was considered waiting. It meant that trolls spend most of their lives in a state of anticipating anxiety, or deep disgruntlement. The other side of the crossroad seemed harmonious and peaceful, compared to the chaotic mess that were the trolls.

With a last, wild pound on the drum Swort squared his shoulders and raised his hands. He hoped his poems would make him famous. He had laboured many hours on the construction, pace and wording of these two pieces. He glanced at the dwarfs, his belly already queasy. What would happen if they did not like it? True, it was considered a crime to hurt entertainers. But would the rule suffice to keep him safe? He wasn't sure himself. The last heavy hit on the drums had grabbed the attention of troll and dwarf alike.

Hundreds sets of eyes looking at him intently, expectantly. Peefy caught his gaze and he nodded slightly. It was time. Swort took a deep breath, took another one. Once more, he slammed the wooden stick hard onto the skin of the drum.

"Gentlemen and nearly gentlemen"

​He eyed the female trolls suspiciously. A roar of laughter from both sides rolled over the crossroads. Then he eyed the female dwarves showily. Another one-sided burst of mirth exploded from the troll-audience. Several dangerous looking weapons waved back and forth wielded by short figures on the other side of the audience. Swort raised his hands and a relative silence ensued.

"I bring to you, a poem that has never been recited. A poem, so well made and so delicate, you might not fully comprehend."

The crowd seemed to hold its breath while Swort struggled to open the scroll that contained the two poems.

"Dwarves are dumb by Swort the Goblin.

Dwarves are the masters of all things dumb,
They're brains are hardly bigger than my thumb.

They like to drink their bellies full of ale,
Cause that's the easiest way to deal with a dwarf female.

Females, with faces ugly, round and greasy,
Once you get passed the smelly breath, the rest is easy.

The females compete with the men for best beard,
Whenever they enter a room, it is rapidly cleared.

Except for the male dwarfs, who compete for their hands,
None can be found, that truly understands.

Their breath smells like sheep and cheese,
the smell usually spreading so fast, it's like a disease.

Let's come back to beard, the hair on the females faces,
If I were dwarf, I would also try to erase my traces.

That's why no dwarf knows who is his real father,
They call anyone just their brother.

Dwarfs like to spend a lot of time underground,
This so none of the others can see how they bum around.

As stated before, they are not particularly bright,
They are fat because they eat all that's in sight."

​During the recital, the dwarves had gotten to their feet. Insults and threats rolled over the stage as Swort came to the end of the poem. Though musicians and other entertainers were protected by the rights of entertainment, several of the trolls ringer the makeshift stage. Verbal abuse of entertainers was accepted, even stimulated among the different races. Threats of physical violence were also accepted. Real physical violence against an entertainer was considered a crime and would be frowned upon. In these regions, laws were considered guidelines.

Swort breathed heavily. He did not like to be threatened, nor did he like to have a troll bodyguard that could crush him at any given time. The troll still ringed the handcart they used as stage. No longer did any of the dwarfs push forward, but based on the malicious glances addressed to him, he was not yet out of trouble.

He heard trolls repeating lines from the poem, many of them followed by bursts of laughter. The dwarfs eyeballed the dwarfs aggressively and made obscene gestures whenever a mirth erupted among the trolls.

"Well done," Peevy climbed the handcart with a scroll of his own and a tight leash in his hand "They are ready to slit throats."

The ring of trolls laughed, dwarfs were great fun, especially when agitated.

"Time for you to finish it" Swort laughed bitterly and took over the tight leash from his companion.
He reeled in the leash. A small red-hatted gnome slid towards him over the dank grass. He picked up the gnome, pulled the hat over his ears and quickly put the gnome back in the cage.

"When Peevy is done, things are gonna get hectic. We don't want you cuddly-wuddly to be crushed by troll-feet" Swort chirped, pitching his voice as if talking to a baby goblin.


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## Bloggsworth (Jun 10, 2016)

When reading the thread title I naively assumed a Robert Johnson moment...


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## Ultraroel (Jun 10, 2016)

Nope. Sorry 

This was meant as something like a comedy. I know the silly poem needs some work though.
Any suggestions would be welcome.


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## keepyourheadup (Jul 30, 2016)

I liked this, it was a bit of fun and I *had* fun reading it! I feel like i'd like to get to know Swort more, if you ever planned to expand the story 

One thing I could suggest is that it might be nice to break up the poem once or twice, maybe with Swort's observations on how the crowd's emotions are building? An insight onto Swort's feelings about this too, is he nervous, excited etc 
Just a thought  good story!


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## Ultraroel (Aug 11, 2016)

Thanks! I wrote it for people to have fun with it and I'm happy you did!
I like the suggestion of Swort checking the crowd while performing to gauge the  responses.

Thank you!


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## Bard_Daniel (Aug 18, 2016)

Interesting stuff. I haven't read too much fantasy in my time but I like what you have set up here. I would maybe try to tighten the phrases around your first paragraph to draw the reader in more. Nothing major, mind you, just a little tightening of the bolts to keep the machine oiled. 

Keep on writing!


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## QuentinJW (Aug 20, 2016)

It's good to say the least. It's funny, but it also has a very subtle undertone that, thought not articulated, hints at a darker kind of reality that just isn't presented by Swort's perception. I like it  ￼


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## Ultraroel (Aug 25, 2016)

Thanks guys for the responses!
@Quentin, that's the idea, the story in the end will have a theme that runs through the story that the Goblins themselves do not necessarily see.
I've put the project on hold however as I couldn't stop myself from starting this, while I still had another which I intend to finish before.
I posted the first chapter of this story also on this forum for some feedback.


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## eezereader (Jan 10, 2017)

A partial suggestion for the poem... if you like it you'd have to finish it.
........................
Dwarfs are masters
of all things dumb
They're brains
hardly bigger
than a Goblin's thumb

They drink their bellies
full of ale
just to deal
with a dwarf female

Female faces
roundish
and greasy
get past they're breath
makes the rest
fairly easy

Female beards
compete with their men
enter a room
smile
it empties again

Male Dwarfs knuckle under
only they
understand
Ask her to marry or feel the back of her hand

Breath like a sheepdog
and moldering cheese
churning the air like a festered disease
....................

you need no punctuation
just use line breaks in a poem

hope I haven't overstepped my bounds


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## Ell337 (Jan 10, 2017)

This was fun to read and I'd be interested to read more - so write it already! Just a few things to consider though. 



Ultraroel said:


> Hurry up already!"
> 
> The jeer was clearly audible amidst the chaos around Swort. He and his companions played a merry, though completely off-key melody. People said you needed to master an instrument, if you wanted to call yourself a musician. Swort was the master _owner? makes the joke a bit funnier _of an instrument and thought that was more than enough to call himself a musician. He scanned the crowd one more time, rows of the crowd (taken from his vision) obscured by the huge fire only a few feet away. His lips curled into a ​slight smile (slightly), while he used the wooden stick to pound the drum vigorously redundant, pounding is already vigorous. The crowd had brought a lot of gold and coins. Kind of irrelevant and definitely out of place Unlike drumming itself, climbing the upturned handcart while drumming wasn't easy.
> 
> ...


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## Ultraroel (Jan 12, 2017)

Thanks guys!!!

I completely forgot I uploaded this and was actually dusting it off to continue writing it next week!
@Eezereader: Those suggestions are great. I think it does the quality of the poem a lot of good!
@Ell337: Thanks a lot for the line edit. I have written a lot more by now and am getting more confident using the right words, but this was what I was hoping for!
Next week I'm gonna continue and definitely will update you all about the progress!


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