The Prophet's Christmas Poems

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Jericho Veronus
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The Prophet's Christmas Poems

Post by Jericho Veronus » Wed Dec 09, 2009 12:06 am

The following are are a series of poems, one for each day of the Celebration of Jalhis. The impression left by the stories of the celebration can be seen throughout history as each one of the poems are precursors to fables, tales, and stories of both the holidays of Winter Solstice as well as Christmas around the world. Comments are more than welcome, and although the stories were written hundreds to thousands of years ago, they were written then without editing and as they came to the authors' minds. Enjoy.

Celebration of Jalhis

As told by the Prophet Jericho Veronus
Last edited by Jericho Veronus on Fri Dec 11, 2009 10:30 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Re: The Prophet's Christmas Poems

Post by Jericho Veronus » Wed Dec 09, 2009 9:20 pm

Poem of the 1st Day of Jalhis, a celebration closely related to modern day Christmas, both in time and in spirit. The 1st Day celebrates the Jalhis Night of the Zealot of Drift, in his last realized experience with the public of this realm

Quick Tavern Times
T’was the night before last
That this tale does take place
I was sitting in the tavern
Just staring in space

The beers were ice cold
The meat fresh and hot
Then I noticed a wench
And I bought her a shot

She rose up the shot
And gulped it straight down
Hoped she was alone
With no boyfriend around

I pulled up beside her
And gave her my name
Gave her a once over
And she did the same

The bottles stacked up
Along with shot glasses
Both of us really
Were drunk off our asses

We talked for an hour
And we drank even more
She turned around for a second
And I was outside the door

The morale is simple
Play off what she thinks
Seem looking to get laid
To scam off free drinks
Last edited by Jericho Veronus on Fri Dec 11, 2009 10:31 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: The Prophet's Christmas Poems

Post by Jericho Veronus » Thu Dec 10, 2009 11:13 pm

During the life of the Third Zealot of Luck during his title reign, he came across a Realm, twisted in pain. So he found the source of such anguish and fear, and set to destroy the evil that was here.
The 2nd Day of Jalhis is therefor celebrated with rounds of gaming in terms of cards with great prizes to be won.

The Devil's Gamble
In a dimly lit room, within a desecrated site
sat a single man, waiting for the night

When the clock struck six, twelve devils did appear
and sat down with the man, the reason he was here

Tales told of these demons, And the games they liked to play
the man presented his wager, the devils decided he could stay

He dealt the first hand, they each picked up their own
Escape was now far gone, as the seeds were now sewn

The mans winnings grew, as the devils' piles fleeted
though no one understood, since it was the devils who had cheated

The bet everything they had, even soul, freedom, and life
and though it was rejected, one tried to bet his wife

As dawn grew closer, and the sun began to rise
Everything the devils had, was now the single man's prize

The devils were amazed, at the man's lucky break
that they demanded his secret, simply for sanity's sake

He won four demon's freedom, six devil horns and one leg
And sack of gold weighing sixty stones, and a baby hell-drake egg

The man now stood up, winnings in sack and hand
now owning several devils, he commanded them to stand

"We have to know", they pleaded, begged and yelled
And the Zealot of Luck turned, and told them "Go to hell"

And so on this day, we show holiday cheer
by celebrating the victory, of the Zealot of Luck that year
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Re: The Prophet's Christmas Poems

Post by Jericho Veronus » Fri Dec 11, 2009 10:32 pm

The 3rd day of Jalhis is reserved for the for one of the Two Zealot's of Vengence, in the choosing of the successor.

Blood Money
The children were sleeping, and as was my wife,
though my case was diff'rent, as I fled for my life.
The streets were all lit, with no place to hide,
Every door bolted, and locked shut from inside.
The shadows would vanish, if I turned my head,
but I feared not stop, else I'd be dead.
The night sky was starless, though even so clear,
black as the figure, I ran from in fear.
He was thought to be myth, not real forewarning
that on this particular night, to hide until morning
He hunts not by sight, nor even by sound,
but by the scent of death, greed lingers around.
With every rushed step, came the clinking of gold,
the bundled blood money, my coin purse did hold.
My deeds are now something, for which I regret,
for now they've caught up to me, I must pay my debt.
He moved up to me, standing nearly nine feet,
Bringing his face down to mine, his breathe held no heat.
Beyond the darkness, within the black hood,
Two burning eyes stared, piercing my soul if they could.
From deep within the cloak, he pulled a black knife,
plunged it in my chest, but failed to silence my life.
Though it was at that point, that my world went black,
and when I came to, I saw my own eyes looking back.
Those that use lives, to fill up the purse
become the unholy side of vengeance, the full gift and curse.
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Re: The Prophet's Christmas Poems

Post by Jericho Veronus » Fri Dec 11, 2009 10:34 pm

The 4th Night of Jalhid is the Night of Herlew, the Zealot of Cast. As he visits every house, with his sack of coins and splitting maul, ensuring that the population has not forgotten where they come from.

Herlew's Silver & Hammer
Above all the places, where fires are lit,
a sacrificial offering, for hunger did sit.

As the clock struck late hours, the residents went to bed,
sure that their offering, would keep them their head.

On this of all nights night, e’ery home receives the call
by the man through the chimney, with a fifteen-stone maul.

Those who don’t satisfy, his everlasting starvation,
become the victims, of his weapon’s devastation.

The victims with children, he snatches them up,
the victims without, he fills his blood cup.

The smashing of limbs, to teach them the moral,
that they leave on their mantle, more than just laurel.

However for those, who leave him the gift,
receive a present, for a financial lift.

Several coins of silver, wrapped neatly with lace,
is left for each human, who has learned their place.
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Re: The Prophet's Christmas Poems

Post by Jericho Veronus » Tue Dec 15, 2009 11:52 pm

The 5th Day of Jalhis is the Day of the Hunt. Originally designed as it coincided with the opening of Perilik Season, it soon passed onto a somewhat more dangerous game, the reason being that the Perilik were not seen as a worthy opponent in the hunt as they were quickly hunted to the point of extinction. So the tradition evolved to the most dangerous of game, man himself.

The Most Dangerous Game
Not every man’s a hunter, though any can be prey,
Best never to be the latter, especially on this particular day.
Equipped with only bare hands and the wills you possess,
It's what one can craft that determines success.

Some build traps, using the essentials of trees,
While others wait it out, couched hiding on hands and knees.
Some fashion weapons, other fashion protection,
While some have even made war machines of crude confection.

Whether thrill of the kill, or thrill of the hunt,
They is only one thing to remember to come out in front,
It matters not what you wield, but how your time is spent,
For you must take the initiative, with vicious intent.

So many have fallen, from lack of will,
They are the ones who died from refusal to kill.
It’s a dog eat dog world, the same true for man,
The only way to survive the day, is to come out with blood covered hands.
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Re: The Prophet's Christmas Poems

Post by Jericho Veronus » Tue Dec 15, 2009 11:56 pm

The 6th Day of Jalhid is the Day of Manhood. Though it is now spent merely as a time of bonding between father and son, it originated from a quite different commemoration. Nearly twelve hundred years ago, the three days prior were spent by the spectating and participation of trials and events of the passing on of boys to manhood. On the final day, there was a 'celebration' for those who passed such trials. While although starting with a feast of brotherhood, spent together within a giant banquet hall with the rest of ones clan, it would end with a somewhat more private ritual for the individual. Such provisions for the ritual are provided by Elizes Triuv Zealot of Sin and Lust.

What Makes a Man
On this most crucial day you become a man,
through the gracious zealot's graceful hand.
The ancient ritual of the oldest profession,
allows one's experience of his first confession.

The Zealot Triuv of lust and of sin,
the peddler of flesh and seller of skin,
provides for free a priceless service,
one that makes the holy man nervous.

The last of tests to become a man,
is being with a woman from outside the clan,
a woman experienced with extraordinary skill,
there to transform him to a man at will.
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Re: The Prophet's Christmas Poems

Post by Jericho Veronus » Sat Dec 19, 2009 10:34 am

The 7th & 8th Days of Jalhid are days of mourning, to commiserate the fall of the city-state compound Orsen, as it was the last remaining stronghold of the rebellion forces during the First Iro Revolution against the Overlord of Helerd in the Eastern Sector of the Prime Realm of the Followership Empire. Due to the emotional and physical toll this period took on the inhabitants it was stricken from the transcendent histories taken with the Followership during the Intra-Realm Movements and therefore possesses no reflection in later historical ties; keeping it solely as days of Jalhid and not echoed in future societies or Realms such as our own.

The 7th Day marks the final day of the final siege and fall of the stronghold. The following is a poem that was read to the children of those who became enslaved during the Overlord's Second Ruling.

The Harder They Fall
A single stone be all that remain,
to show the once last fortress that freedom maintain.
Where once stood the bravest of brave,
are now buried those who refused to be slave.

It happened in the dead of night,
though the raging fires mad the sky burn bright.
As the tyrant's forces advance,
the rebellion forced squelched having no chance.

The first wave was all it took,
as just from their marching the castle shook.
Within minutes the wall was breached,
And in almost less the inner-defenses were reached.

The rebel forces face to face,
with every royal guard hacked down ten took his place.
They had control in under an hour,
all that was left was in the center the main tall tower.

Only the rebellious leader stood
with his elite troops on a structure of merely wood.
From here it took nearly five days,
As with merely twenty-one men, hell was raised.

For every one to fall,
two-hundred royal troops lay dead in the hall.
As the fifth day came,
Only one man was left with the rebellious flame.

His finally fell but not to death,
As he was taken prisoner while he still had breath.

The 8th day is the public execution of Evin Huaser, the leader of the revolution and last man standing. The following poem was found on a burnt piece of paper in the remains of the leader's home after it was burned to the ground following the execution, while the leader's family still in it. There is most likely more to it, though only these words were legible.

The Second Revolution
..............
And I forced to watch as my father's body swung
from the fifty foot contraption of which his neck was hung.

Though I feel anger, I hope you feel remorse
for when you least expect it you shall know my course.

You may have silenced him, but you did not me
for in everyone of us, lives the yearning to be free.

You may have crushed our bodies and destroyed our land
but our spirits grow stronger and will be invested in hand.

Sit there sire, for at this time you are safe,
but mark my words you shall feel my strafe.

Many believe it was written by the youngest son, who's remains were not found when shifting through the house's ashes. For five years later, many believe one year for each day of the final siege, a man came with an army, and in no time at all freed the people and started the Second Iro Revolution. While his identity was never proven to be the Huaser son, he wielded a splitting maul similar to that of the first leader, and now representative of the Zealot "Huaser" of Revolt, Revenge, and Retribution.
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Re: The Prophet's Christmas Poems

Post by Hydrolisk » Wed Feb 03, 2010 1:11 am

We liek these very much, though we hope that you find your typos and fix them - unless I am reading them wrong, of course.
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