“Blacksmith, make a sword for me, such as none did ever see, For ancient symbols of majesty have power in troubled times. Blacksmith, make me a magic sword, one that will make me the valley’s lord Whom folk will hail with one accord to save them from their crimes.
Seeing he would not be deterred, the blacksmith took him at his word And pondered long on what he’d heard about this would-be lord. He pumped the fire and he made his start, melted iron in the fire’s heart, But he named the steel with an older art the Arizona Sword.
He chanted words to the blazing mix, of ancient Red Men’s and White Men’s tricks To draw a spirit, and purpose fix in what the blade would feel: The iron laws from Nature’s hand, the ruthless will of the desert land, The freedom no one can command – and cast that thought in steel.
And when the blacksmith’s work was done, the new sword gleamed like the setting sun. All down the blade did the old runes run, a warning plain to see. The steel was grained like the finest wood. A full yard long and more it stood. The runes read: “I serve but the good of life and liberty.”
Near the hilt, set in copper wire, a phoenix rose up from the pyre. A copper star within the fire rayed out copper cords. The grip was like a saguaro made that clasped a moon in quartz and jade. In truth, like to no other blade was the Arizona Sword.
“Blacksmith, well have ye served my cause. This shall aid me to make the laws. Hmmm, the guards are shaped like cougar’s paws; in truth, like none I’ve seen. The price is steep, but I shall not carp. She’ll sing more praise than a minstrel’s harp. Ye gods, that blade is razor-sharp! ...For a symbol, very keen.”
“And cheap she'll be if I strike ye dead!” The blacksmith promptly turned and fled. The lordling laughed and shrugged instead, and went out to meet his horde. He cried out: “This is the day foretold. Just one hand now this land shall hold, For in this sign will I rule. Behold, the Arizona Sword.”
“No more argument shall we find, but all hereafter shall be inclined To just one purpose and just one mind. Thus do I mean to do. Now go ye forth, and take the land.” The sword heard well his first command. She lunged and twisted in his hand, and fell, and ran him through.
They say the sword vanished clean away, for none has heard of it since that day, But seek it wisely, and find ye may. Take care, who would be lord. Beware, ye tyrant! Beware, ye fool! For who is the master and who the tool? Ye may well serve, but ye shall not rule the Arizona Sword
William Kelly
you just wrote a poem and called it Veeky Forums
faggot
Eli Perry
A thread died for this. What discussion are you hoping for
Thomas Edwards
It's a nice poem. and it's more creative than 88% threads TG.
Jack Martinez
It isn't a nice poem, though. It's boring shit. I'd literally rather see another argument about D&D or some crap than this, because it's not faggy off-topic poetry pretending that it's on the right board.
Begone to Veeky Forums, they'll critique your "poetry". (By calling it dogshit.)
>Can't count IPs >Prefers bait threads to any sort of creativity Behold, the nu/tg/.
Caleb Sanders
It's still more creative than an argument We've also every single day and might it have a use for it in someone's campaign.
Gabriel Murphy
>Blacksmith, make a sword for me... "I am a blacksmith you daft asshole. I make hinges, nails, tools and occasionally dabble as a farrier and cutler. I don't have the equipment, skills, or guild allowance to make swords. Go to a fucking swordsmith."
Hunter Nelson
I like it
Wyatt Foster
I love it
Josiah Powell
I want some more of it
Thomas Wright
Flik sucks. Why would I care about the shitty parts of any culture, especially that presented to me by fat dweebs who aren't entertainers?
You fuckers killed quest threads and then dare whine about "creativity"? My entire ass!
Jack Hill
Oh, you're a salty questfag. That explains everything.
Wyatt Parker
He's in Arizona, he should go to a gunsmith
Connor Sullivan
>Blacksmith, make a sword for me, such as none did ever see You got it. It'll have 5 hilts, 5 28-pointed crossguards, and the blade the shape of the full moon. Made completely out of copper.
Iron is the blood of the earth. No greater material could you ask for as a base, short of blood of the divine. Of course, there are many things you can add to the mix or to treat with to draw out greater strengths. Quench in a bath of lunar caustic and the blade shall touch the spectral world as it flies, or quench instead in dragon's blood and shall forever retain some heat. If the coal added to the steel furnace was made from the wood of a sacred tree, and tool or weapon forged from that metal shall be infused with its life, and never corrode or tarnish. Conversely, if the coal is rendered from the bones of one who died of illness, a blade forged of steel with that carbon shall retain that misery, and deliver it to whoever is unlucky enough to be on the other end.
