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|This one actually happens in Silver Adept. I know I'm not much of a poet, but I rather liked this one. |
The silver elf is Norton (aka the Silver Rose, aka the Shadow of Elomeia) - check out my loth gallery for a picture.
The sun beats down in Travelers’ Square;
Crowds amass for the Market Faire,
Merchants call, shouting their wares,
Catching attention of even the mares!
Careless guards survey the town,
Never expecting thieves around –
No rogue so brazen would abound,
Without a bounty from the Crown.
Old Alchnet the wizard counts his wealth,
Taken unawares by a silver elf –
In the space of a moment his amulet’s gone,
Swiftly followed as three orbs dawn.
Silver thief, hair a-twirling,
Elven rogue, cloak a-swirling,
Sapphire eyes, power within,
Never seen unless you’re kin.
The Silver Rose makes off with his prize,
Dashing through crowds before everyone’s eyes.
The guards rush forward, then stop and stare,
For the elven thief is no longer there!
The green orbs waver, their purpose lost;
Never before have they known this cost.
Magic doesn’t miss; it can’t be so,
But if there’s no target, where do they go?
The Silver Rose again wins through,
He is the thief that all guards rue.
Silent as shadow, fleet as a fox,
It is of he whom everyone talks.
|Untouched||The Blind Man of Taresun|
|Smoke in the Mirror||Featherblade's Conscience|