Pleas

In the misty gap, along a road of luck,
A tale unfolds, of a world both old and young,
Where good and evil clash, and destinies are plucked,
As fast as the wind, through open pine and mines among.

A royal cousin faced a choice, momentous and grand,
To tread upon the wisps of clouds, or the gentle land,
Where stones peak high, and forests crow with might,
A murder of crows, a harbinger of doom, took flight.

With cloak as shield and care in the hilt of a sword,
The wheel of fate turned, guided by the flight of a mage,
But even the most skilled may fail, their spirits floored,
For even the mightiest mountains have a treacherous passage.

A horn echoed through the snowy voice of the road,
As the air itself seemed to slide, blood turned to ice,
Wrath slept cruelly, leaving a stain where hope abode,
In towers buried deep, hidden beneath the spell's guise.

A bear, decked in a beard, brandished a sword and bow,
With shield and axe, death seemed to follow its path,
A knave, longing for help, grew with each passing woe,
With trust within, they sought to defy the grip of wrath.

In the face of strong evil, a great test loomed ahead,
A helmet and crown, seen by those who could perceive,
But the master, in their wisdom, forgot a humble hat they had,
As light, star, moon, and sun danced on the eve.

In the realm of dark, at the cusp of dawn's embrace,
An eye beheld a door, a lord, a faithful friend,
The gate spoke in memories, holding shattered peace in place,
As the horde pressed forward, seeking home till the end.

Stones skipped upon the plunge, the river's sludge below,
And a beast lent a hand, striding through the long and dark,
In an old, foul place, where more darkness seemed to grow,
Their journey led them to quiet caves, a hidden embark.

With a horn's charge, a blow of flame erupted wide,
A card, a book, a spine that held untold wealth,
A myth unfolded, like a socket in a rock, a grand stride,
As a skull, a stag, in their might, played, revealing itself.

Hung upon a great need, the thing's gall smelled eager and wise,
Yet the heart, ruling over pity, would not easily be swayed,
Come to me, it cried, let fate's ring make it happen, it implies,
For the choice of time given, the will's work is always laid.

A ball of fun, a dance with the dead, fear did linger,
A bridge, a hall, a bar, a stronghold to hold fast,
Upon the shale ground, drums echoed deep, a rhythmic finger,
Out of the shadow dark, a fool banged pipes, a haunting blast.

An arrow found its way back, close to a bean,
A willow wept, love trapped within its cage,
A foe's quiver, a boot's climb, ambition unforeseen,
Chains rattled, corn frothed, as they wrote their own page.

With leg of lamb and potato, the master filled their bag,
Through inns and armies, they tunneled round,
A devil crept anew, ancient and full of a creeping nag,
Beyond the stair, torches flickered, casting shadows on the ground.

A hoot in the crumble, a dragon chanted its hymn,
Blooming on the floor, upon the dais, its fiery breath,
Its tail, a weapon wielded, its avail in the shadow talk so grim,
In the abyss of fire and fume, it sang a song of death.

Tears fell like a boar's hunt, a fire log burned with a cast,
A league of mead, a tree, a mere of solemn peace,
They soared and switched, missing the stir of the past,
In snares set by hawks and foxes, their journey found release.

Legends were woven in the fabric of days, grave and divine,
A court stood far away, thawed by rare danger's might,
May your shire never want, may it bear the weight of the dead's line,
And in the sanctuary of vexation, find solace in eternal light.

Enter and ache, as you fall into the far flame's lash,
A net of lingering lands, where grief and hope may mingle,
On the edge of the knife, stray not, lest ruin's touch thrash,
For in the truest pain, rest may come, kneeled in sorrow's tingle.

Sleep with eyes wide open, see the base camp's lament,
Where grief works its fire, a fine burst of blue and green,
Amid thunder's silver shower and the gentle touch of rain's descent,
A flower of justice blooms, nurtured by the shot of a mage unseen.

Rest, protect your brow, for each day brings forth the noble,
In faith we store glory, like a trumpet's resounding blare,
In the white city's paths, secrets lead, paths that are global,
As guards in towers turn, and steps sneak with care.

Water pooled in a dish, a spoon, a stone, a jug, a mirror's gleam,
A jar of mercury, where past, present, and future blend,
May you pass yet, through the door, where vines augment the dream,
And immerse in an ineffable melody, where even slaves find a friend.

From nose to chin, a smile glimpsed, a momentary free offer,
In shaking treachery, the sea's foundation may consume,
But amidst despair, adamantine resolve shall never falter,
Keeping one's point, one's task, on the way to a distant bloom.

Through the course of the future, mutiny may once ignite,
An arm may stop, but a heart's hurt shall not be in vain,
In pain and fear, the flesh may spoil, left alive in brooches so slight,
Yet a friend's eye, when opened wide, can bite through the darkest bane.

As the sun sets and darkness embraces the hilt and blade,
A scaffold stands, a testament to deeds that were done,
Only the worthy, with skills and daggers, know how to evade,
For courage, wisdom, wipe away the stains of battles won.

At last, a fair jewel adorns the ear with grace,
As stars and people rise, valor taking their form,
With each step, they ascend to the highest height, a celestial embrace,
Where kin and pressure intertwine, forever etching their name in the storm.

Marred by the rich and fueled by electric love's embrace,
Hail, shimmering wounds, a gift from the depths unknown,
Three strands entwine, guiding through passages narrow, choking with grace,
In the boat of land, they float, leaving tracks for water's enemy to be shown.

A promise of help, the same reason why a sad man finds truth,
As strength gives way to frailty, and honor hides with old kings,
A nation hailed giants, their pride a sentinel, a warning to sooth,
But when it is time to run, even the horde shall seek refuge under the tree's wings.

With a scarf for a cape and a leg as their goal,
They make their last stand, within the shelter of the wood,
Eggs spared, their travels cease, a hunt for light takes its toll,
As they spare their weary souls, seeking solace as they should.