Baldur's Gate : The Sword Coast Chronicles : NWN2 Persistent World

A Paladin bragging to his squire as to how good it feels to Smite Evil.

AHAHAHAHAHAHA ew grossssssssss

Zanniej wrote:

Arn wrote:A poem about what the imp does with hill giant poop, minotaur horns, and moon moss, please.

The imp's little secret

I tell all those fools,
The poop's for my master.
And that I'll give them money,
It'll make fools run faster.

But secretly though,
My master doesn't experiment.
He just likes his drinks,
From a horn with a bend.

I must fill the horn,
With all the brought poop.
Then finish it off,
With a moon moss scoop.

It may sound quite nasty,
But it's my master's delight.
For Hill Giants don't exist,
On our plane of fright.

My master has told me,
"Take this secret to the grave".
But you must understand,
For me it's hard to behave.

But I must beg you,
To succeed where I failed.
Take this secret to the grave,
Or forever you'll be jailed...

Though I'm sure you know, imps can't be trusted ... so I do not vouch for the validity or this story

Darradarljod wrote:A Paladin bragging to his squire as to how good it feels to Smite Evil.

The smitten paladin
The paladin, wise and vain and strong,
Told his squire, it won't be long.
His squire was young and handsome and bold,
The paladin smitten, caught in his hold.

They were training together, working on strikes,
Training on slashing with swords and with pikes.
And also they trained on smiting what's bad,
Training together, completely armor-clad.

The paladin wished to impress the young man,
And told him the story of how he began.
The story of heroes and evils alike,
And how he'd fell devils, with one sacred strike.

The feeling that'd give, to smite evil foes,
Giving a tingle, from head to your toes.
The squire took it in, his mouth wide agape,
He'd imagine himself, the hero with cape.

But one day the squire, head in the clouds,
Went on adventure, into the shrouds.
Out of all evil, he found the worst of all,
For in the misty shrouds, lie the young squire's fall.

A dragon of red, imposing and great,
His eyes filled with anger, eyes filled with hate.
And in one deep breath, the squire got killed,
Charred to the bone, his dreams unfulfilled.

The once young squire, handsome and bold,
Found out the hard way, a hero doesn't always get old.
The paladin mourned, and vowed a new oath,
He would kill every creature, of evil and loath.

Perhaps the paladin's looking, to this day still,
For an evil red dragon, to haunt and to kill.
Perhaps we'll never know, perhaps he's still around,
Perhaps he's still looking, for more dragons to be found.

how about.... dozens of level 30 adventurers of various moralities loitering for hours/days in front of the FAI gates.



btw. this is a SUPER FUN thread. love it. and you are really good.

aaron22 wrote:how about.... dozens of level 30 adventurers of various moralities loitering for hours/days in front of the FAI gates.



btw. this is a SUPER FUN thread. love it. and you are really good.

Haha, thanks. Glad to hear it.
Nice poem topic!

The real adventure

We grind all day,
We quest all night.
We never stop working,
Without winning a fight.

Monster after monster,
Quest after quest.
Only when we're truly epic,
Do we get our well deserved rest.

And when we've deserved our rest,
There's only one place to go.
We've been fighting our whole lives,
Just to put up this show.

For in front of the Friendly Arms Inn,
Is where we show our skills!
Nobody can talk as long as us,
It's a battle of wills!

And in the end,
When we've talked all we can,
We go straight back,
To where we began.

We grind some more,
With epic lootz on our mind.
Then we go back to the campfire,
To show off the spoils of the grind!

We're stuck on repeat,
We never stop the run.
And that, my friends,
Is what we call fun!

This is just me being jealous of never having gotten a level 30 toon. I'm not allowed in the club
This is ofcourse just a joke. I don't judge anyone's way of having fun in this game. Whatever works for you, works for me!

A Chef's Duel between the halfling and his mushrooms, and the FAI chef and his lizard man omelettes.

Fury_US wrote:A Chef's Duel between the halfling and his mushrooms, and the FAI chef and his lizard man omelettes.

LOL

Add the third chef that gets bugs in UL

Fury_US wrote:A Chef's Duel between the halfling and his mushrooms, and the FAI chef and his lizard man omelettes.

aaron22 wrote:Add the third chef that gets bugs in UL

The chef-off

For weeks and weeks they've been at it,
The chef of Beregost and the Friendly Arms Inn.
One claiming Lizardling eggs is where it's at,
The other says mushrooms is where the magic'll begin.

Every adventurer that ventures into their domain,
Is asked for dangerous ingredients from areas of danger.
And when you've ventured into the areas while slaying their inhabitants,
You come back with their ingredient, and are told "Don't be a stranger!".

For no matter the amount of eggs or mushrooms by the dozen,
They are never quite done perfecting their craft.
So after yet another mushroom pie or lizardling omelette,
They once more call each other daft.

The battle endures on for weeks,
and never will they relent.
Not even after all the lizardling eggs,
Or mushrooms are completely spent.

But perhaps one day,
When the eggs and shrooms are down to zero.
Will they finally know that the orc cook,
With her beetle soup is the real cooking-hero!

I wouldn't eat any of those recipes though

A poem for Ed?

http://nwn2db.com/build/?2058

Laughingman wrote:A poem for Ed?

http://nwn2db.com/build/?2058

Was Ed an actual character on the server? He is OP and I want to meet him.

Laughingman wrote:A poem for Ed?

http://nwn2db.com/build/?2058

Special Ed

This is the story about special Ed,
The gray orc with a different ambition.
Though quite likeable, he was kind of sad,
Because Ed's brain missed any sort of ignition.

Though worry not over poor Ed's fate,
For he was very liked by his clan.
The members made sure that he ate,
Though they never managed to turn him into a man.

This never bothered special Ed though,
For he believed he was destined for more!
He wasn't very skilled with axe or bow,
And he found the actual warfare quite a chore.

But that never stopped him one bit,
And he even believed himself to have a familiar.
He once taught a piggy how to sit,
And now he goes nowhere without his pig "Cheddar"!

A renowned mage ... in his own head,
He still practiced his fighting far into the woods.
He'd always fight a fern until it was dead,
Traveling back with his newly conquered goods.

On such day, Ed found a stash of gold,
And tried to explain to the elder what he found.
The stash was quite a sight to behold,
But explaining it meant trouble was inbound.

When in words Ed couldn't succeed,
The Elder asked him to write it down.
But Ed's spelling was also impossible to read,
And the result made the Elder frown.

"I fownd god" is what Ed wrote in the mud,
And the Elder sent him to the Shaman to be trained.
But the Shaman nipped this in the bud,
As he realized that absolutely nothing could be gained.

Later on Ed realized he needed a hobby or something to do,
And so started learning how to make traps to catch enemies and food alike.
He thought this was something he was good at too,
Though his traps were so intricate that he couldn't keep apart one from the other spike.

So in the end, poor Ed wasn't worth much for the village,
Except perhaps entertainment and comic relief.
For he was no use in the random pillage,
And he'd never ever make it to village chief.

But perhaps in the end that is still enough,
Your own happiness and right to live.
For many orcs, bigger and more buff,
Do not even reach adulthood, no matter how much they give...

A poem of a priest telling a man named Bosric of the importance of chastity until marriage.

A poem about a player with too many PCs and zero time to play any of them...