An in depth view into the realm of evil's champions.
Based upon the stories and written histories of the Realms and beyond.
Written By
Jacques Strappe
Overall...
The future of the Black Knights is still uncertain. So far, there are only six left in the world. Whether or not one of the six decides to start a training program again remains to be seen. But, there is one certainty, Black Knights are still among us and they are still one of the baddest forces on the planet.
The theories I hear about Black Knights reuniting the Realms with a massive Hundred Years War, or that they will cause the end of the magic users. This is all nonsense and gibberish.
The Black Knights do not crave blood and carnage, they are just good at creating it. The whole deal behind them is that they obey their Master. If it would serve the Master to reunite the Realms, then they would do it in the quickest way. Same goes for any other rumors told.
In closing Id like to add that all of the Black Knights are under the control of one other Black Knight. He is the Head Knight or First Knight. He decides what the others do.
You are guessing Pastorious is the First Knight...wrong. No one knows who the First Knight is (except for the other Knights). Pastorious would no more tell us the name of the First Knight than he would kill his own son. There is also an old law that states He who utters the name of thine boss, he who breathes or screams thine boss name shall be put to death by flames from the sky.
The Write Poetry
"Unfortunate Word"
XxNotsoSoftXx
Saying an unfortunate word
Reading not what her lips speak
I crumble into darkness to find her
Waiting there to breathe into me
As I was bullied by her voice
She screamed uncontrollable hate
Covering my ears - listening
For every long-lasting scratch
She had to inform me of -
Every bee in the hive - waiting
To sting my soul for saying -
An unfortunate word -
Or two - she heard but never listened
To the bees stinging me dearly
Morals I believed in -- she rejected
The pretty spider she dissected
Was mine -- but never hers
Finding my way into happiness
With the spider in my mind
And in my palm - I was robbed of my pity
I was taken of my righteous hate that -
I protectively carried in my simmered mouth
I want only peace between her and me
But later I find only my fault for my disagreement and disgrace.
Locked
by Caroline Nelson (Book Panda)
His windows are shut and his door locked and barred.
His life is off limits, protected by guard.
A barbed wire fence is surrounding his heart;
He's afraid someone will come and tear it apart.
His feelings are veiled in the darkest of deep;
His dreams are untold; they remain in his sleep;
His spirit he hides on a dark closet shelf;
He hopes he has hidden what makes him himself.
His fear of rejection is hidden with locks.
His whole personality, chained in a box.
His need for acceptance is all that remains;
The rest is wrapped tightly with bolts and with chains
They're the ropes that support him, the locks that sustain;
Does he think that they keep him from feeling the pain?
Does he think that without them he'll stumble and fall?
Does he think someone might crack and knock down his wall?
Is he scared someone will? Is he scared someone might
Come and open those doors and still love him despite
All the hurt that's within that he can't do without,
Who'd accept him with no thought of possible doubt?
Will that person be you? Will that person be me?
We can open those doors now.
I'll lend you the key.
Heartbroken
Walking through the hallway
Away she stands
Watching him leave with her
Both hand in hand
She boils with anger
Now all alone
He was stolen away
Her heart was torn.
Thrown to the ground
Ragged and worn.
Her face was white,
As white as a ghost
She wanted a fight
She waited the most
Her anger raged on
Through the thick
And the thin,
She always thought
Of it
Again and Again.
Though one night
It was too late
She crept out her window
And opened the gate
Her mind was on fire
Her eyes set ablaze
The anger came,
It wasn't a phase.
She walked to his car
And opened the door,
Some shots rang out
They fell to the floor
The sirens came whirling,
The world was a blur.
This is what happens when
Violence occurs.
Please, help some friends
When they're not in the stir.
Pick them up
When they fall down
You'll save some lives
And you will not drown
In the lies
And the hate,
It's not too late
Save them now
You won't debate.
(c) copyrighted 2001
By Karivet
Past Love
Andre` Robinson (Poemwriter2000)
The very first day I saw you, my heart beat at unimaginable speed...
As you slowly looked over at me, I suddenly had an unfamiliar need.
Whatever the reason may have been, I didnt know what it was;
All I could really think about
Was whether or not what I felt was love.
I dont know why I felt this way, I had barely even known you
But there was something special about your beauty
That made my feelings come true.
As time passed by, your beauty left my sight
...But my feelings for you were so powerful,
They were just too strong to fight.
As you were about to leave, my lips screamed out, Stop!
I must have been crazy for doing it, but my yelling put you on the spot.
You quickly turned around, and asked me if I knew...
All the horrible things, in your life you had to go through.
But all I could really say, is how powerful your beauty was...
And then you sadly told me that what I had wasnt true love.
You left me standing there, wondering what love meant.
When I realized I was alone,
I knew that without you my life would have an everlasting dent.
Falling
DkPunklegend2
I've done wrong, but everything is right
It doesn't matter now, I'm where I want to be
Close to the warmth, close to the love
Far from the chaos, you're close to me
Too good to be true, why is it like this
I'm saying good-bye as soon as I arrive
Back to the grind, I hate this place
Hateful people and the breakneck pace
I'm falling back to reality
The Write "Stuff"
(MLissWyli@hotmail.com)
Frogs in dire need to balance
Water-solutes dispense
Unequal amounts of discharge
At purest pond's expense
Octopi renal appendages
Necessary for separating blood
From waste; Hang from veins
Next to the heart, a colour of mud.
Some advice for the teenage writer.
I'm tired of all those poems written by teens sounding so desperate ... desperate for love, for attention, for I don't know what. Why are teens always so sad? So depressed? Is this really what our generation has come to? Sure, I usually only write when I'm upset, or sad, or lonely. That's when the greatest inspiration comes floating into the mind like a cloud, a blanket over the rest of my problems that exist in the real world. I believe that is why teens always sound so sad when they finally find the right words to say so eloquently what they're thinking. Learn to be eloquent all the time. Yeah, okay, thats impossible for a teenager, right? Then, try to find the inspiration in something else ... maybe in another emotion. But don't sound so sad when you write. It only drags the rest of us into your spiral of misery. Do us all a favor, and smile when you put ink on the paper or words on the screen. I guarantee, you'll brighten at least one person's day ... maybe even your own.
