Kevin's Watch

Hunter

This is my attempt at an “epic poem”. It is a college project I did to attempt to fit my own “fantasy story” into poetic form. In many spots in this, form follows position; the third part is in triads, and in addition you will find a ballad, a sonnet, a sestina (in sixth position, a sestina is built in sextets), a villanelle, a poem patterned after the Song of the Unfettered, as well as forms of my own making, including the final six line ending poem that summarizes the story. The story is about an assassin who is betrayed and finds love, in 12 parts. At least that is the short description.

Feel free to comment; I think this is some of my best work, as far as that goes (everything is relative), and is well in line with my love of fantasy and SRD in particular.

I: In The Beginning

Beginnings are the only place to start,
And Hunter was alone when he began,
The boy he was before has long since left,
A hollow shell is all that still remains.

His life was one of pain and tragedy,
Confusion of a child once twice bereft:
His parents slain beneath a shattered home,
Consigned to memories that will not fade.

A choice to kill and gain the cold revenge,
Became a way of life for a lonely man,
Efficiency was born of dreadful focus
On tasks that let him free himself from hate.

A reputation he built on his skill,
To strike without the slightest indication,
With nerves of steel that never flinched or paused,
A fearless predator that stalked his prey.

He feasted on the fear his presence wrought,
And drank the depths of agony he caused,
A soothing drug that calmed his fragile self,
And earned for him the name he proudly wore.

Yet Hunter was a gentle one deep down,
A well of love and happiness untapped,
Entombed within a cave of tortured soul.
A heart, once found, could never be removed,

This heart, once found, led Hunter to his doom.

II: The Calling

I fall upon my prey just like a shadow in the night,
My silence is my power and the darkness is my light,
Suspicion is my enemy, but I avoid it still,
A method in the madness that has driven me to kill.

A border baron hired me to rid him of this man,
A pawn within the hierarchy that rules over this land.
He knows it not, but he is doomed, for I have come to call,
A man of hate, I am his fate, the pawn is sure to fall.

Where is the conscience other men wear boldly on their sleeve?
Where is the moral fiber they have chosen to believe?
Not here, I say, for I am Hunter, man of destiny,
And he is made a target of my lifetime’s agony.

A sharpened knife rests reassuringly next to my skin,
When it is drawn the ritual of death will then begin,
My only wish is that I’ll see the vision as he dies,
Reflected anguish born of pain within the mirror of his eyes.

Without warning, calm and swift, the task is now complete,
Hierarchal pawn lies still and wasted at my feet.
The baron will be pleased to see his wishes granted thus,
And I, empowered by the rage that turns life into dust.

For this is not a case simple of monetary need:
A Hunter is not driven so by avarice or greed,
But rather by the memories of what I might have been,
Before I had to find a way to cleanse myself of sin.

Though haunting screams erupt from me within my dreams at night,
And all the faces I have seen, their visions fill my sight,
Hunter is my calling; I cannot change who I am,
Another man tomorrow I will remove from the land.

III: A Circle Broken

Another circle to be turned,
Another task, my efforts earned
Another chance. I must prepare

A perfect symbiocity
Of patience and ferocity
That I perform. I take my leave

Of home, make haste to yon estate,
Where chosen victim, ignorant, waits
To feel my touch. My steps are sure

As I approach his haven, he lies safe
From those who would not use their hate
And feel its power. I do not have

Such trepidation or unrest,
My hate has guaranteed success
Too many times. But there is risk

In the air tonight, I sense
An uncommon coincidence,
A lamp burns bright. I hide away

Frozen within shadows, still
As raindrops on a window sill,
Retain control. There must be reasons,

After all, that would explain
How light encroached on my domain
Of darkness deep. I do not move, yet

Somehow, someone finds me there
Alone, with only pain to share
If they attack. I will respond,

But not in fashion they require,
A Hunter knows when to retire
So that he may live. And now

They chase behind me, following
My footsteps, they are shadowing
My every move. I gain the town

Where baron rules and pawns forsaken,
The visions of the lives I’ve taken
Echo in my mind. And still I run,

My choices quick and full of stealth,
Their anger slowed my moral wealth
And lack of malice. These men despise

The kind of man I am, without
Considering what I’m about
Deep down inside. They’ll never find

This Hunter now. I find them wanting,
These men who filled my nights with haunting
Voices of the dead. I catch my breath

And wonder as I wander, why
Did they become so sure that I
Was there tonight? Were they forewarned

By someone who know of my choice
To silence baron’s enemy’s voice
And wished me dead? Perhaps betrayal

Is what I’ve received for service true,
My own voice silenced when he is through
With my fidelity. Now I must now

The truth of what occurred this night.
A Hunter’s instincts are always right:
I am deceived. The time has come

To leave this land for other places,
Learn to live with other faces,
Before they find me here. A Hunter

Knows when it is time to hide.

IV: Circumvention

I am here
Alone in a lonely place,
I’ve grown accustomed to it.
A score and three days have passed since I left the baron’s realm behind; Five score
     leagues I have traveled with his henchmen trailing me.
Twice I have been surprised,
Once hurt,
But never beaten.
He hunts me, or so he thinks. I know that Lady Luck has smiled upon him a time or
     two, for skill alone would not have brought his men to me.
A Hunter cannot be hunted if he does not wish it.
And I do not.

I am swift
All my senses trained
For fight or flight, whichever is necessary.
I am capable of both, but I prefer to fight: Running is a never-ending process, but the
     death of an enemy is a permanent solution.
So four times I have killed,
Severed fingers
And sent them back to the baron as souvenirs.
I risk angering him more, but he does not yet know the depths of rage; after all, he is
     the one who betrayed me, not I who betrayed him.
A Hunter never forgives, never forgets.
And I will not.

Tonight I will rest
And wait for the next attack.
Soon it will come
He cannot dare to appear weak, now that four of his men are dead at my hands. Perhaps
     he will come himself to face me.
I doubt that will happen.
It requires courage
Or an abundance of fear.
He lacks the first, but I have been giving him reason to feel the second; I would like to
     draw him out into the open where I can slip my knife between his ribs and see the
     glorious vision of pain within his eyes.
A betrayer deserves no less than vengeance.
I will have it.

I am here
Alone in a lonely place,
A wayward inn for a wayward man.
A bed will be nice for a change, and a hot meal to soothe the ache of too many nights
     without food or a pillow.
I take my seat
And watch as the others eat and talk,
Their lives as normal as one can expect.
I suppose I ought to feel jealousy, but when I see the shallowness of their existence, their
     pathetic dependence on each other, I sometimes feel like I am the lucky one.
A Hunter needs no other to feel complete.
Or so I tell myself.

I am watched.
Long ago I developed this sense,
To feel eyes upon me even when I can’t see them.
She is standing by the door to the rooms where the guests sleep, and her appraisal of me
     is quite open and frank, a depth of intelligence I am unacquainted with.
She is beautiful,
But she is nothing:
I have no need of women.
Yet still she watches, perhaps inspired by my reticence, perhaps intrigued. Her eyes are
     smiling at me, a sparkle of humor that does not reach her lips, but I can see the
     intent.
It is a warm smile that touches something unknown.
I turn away.

Distractions are deadly.
I cannot afford them
Not even the slight distraction of a beautiful woman.
Too often I have seen others like me lose their concentration when they have taken a
     companion, and lose their lives as a result.
They were not Hunter,
Yet still they died
When they might have been able to choose another path.
They were trapped by this emotion they called love, this strange loss of all mental control
     that they blamed for their demise. It is not something I wish to discover.
Still, I cannot deny there is a power in her smile.
So I must depart.

As I rise I pause,
For I am not one to flee something like this:
I do no usually doubt my self-control.
How has this woman managed to unnerve me so? I have evaded death and fates worse
     than death time after time, and now I am going to let a simple smile chase me
     away from the first comfort I have found in days?
This is a third surprise,
But somehow it is harder to deal with
Than the first two.
I can feel pride starting to rise within me in all of its self-righteousness, demanding
     that I stay and show this woman that a Hunter is immune to such efforts to
     distract him from his purpose.
I can’t help but wonder if this is too important to me, this triviality.
But I will stay.

The room is cold
Although summer heat has filled the day
The room is still cold.
The bed is every bit as hard as the dirt floor of my home back in the realm of the
     traitorous baron. It is exactly what I require to ease my troubled soul, this
     comfort, this familiarity.
A Hunter may not need a home,
But I must face reality:
I may never see my home again.
It is the only one I have kept for myself since I began, since the day I was born. It is
     hard and unyielding, dark and cold, just like the room I have been given in this
     wayward inn.
I lie awake with open eyes and let the cold of the room soak through my skin.
I am content.

I am here
Alone no longer
The knock sounds at the door and I am moving before the echo fades.
By the time she calls out to me I am at the door, my heart beating softly as I draw my
     knife and stand ready. I recognize her voice as that of the woman I noticed
     before, but I am cautious: Nowhere is it said that only men may be treachers.
Prepared for any eventuality
Even murder
I open the door and allow her to enter.
My instincts were right: she is intelligent. With a glance she takes in my preparations,
     the tension in the air, the knife held steady, and then she merely smiles at me,
     acknowledging my willingness to kill and dismissing it as irrelevant.
She calmly enters, accepting what she sees without judgment or repudiation.
I am impressed.

And she as well.
She sits on the bed
Her eyes shine as she asks my name.
When I tell her, she nods as if that were the only answer she expected. As if she were
     waiting for me.
The thought reaches out and speaks to me before I can quench it.

Perhaps this distraction will not be so deadly after all.

V: A Heart, Once Found

If she loves in spite of knowledge,
It is all the more important that I know,
For if I am unable to acknowledge,
It may paralyze the love she longs to show.

A Hunter may not know love when he finds it,
But something this unique can’t be ignored.
The wonder of her touch has left me blinded,
To hate and pain and all I was before.

But even a wounded child who is now whole,
Can know the next event that must occur.
If treachers find us know and take our souls,
Her safety I no longer can ensure.

Come sunrise I will leave her love behind,
And return when my revenge is finally mine.

VI: A Hunter Hunted

A Hunter feels their presence
For enemies do not go undetected. They follow
My trail again, with me since I left
My love behind those few hours ago. These treachers
Have been well-trained, unlike the others who were so easily lost.
If I cannot confuse their pursuit, I may have to turn and kill

Again. A Hunter may not always wish to kill,
But these men are deserving, for their very presence
Denies me peace. I served faithfully, but it seems the baron has lost
Confidence in my trustworthiness. Now he follows
Me, with his army of heathens, treachers
All. I can hear them there, to the left

In the woods. A Hunter’s instinct to attack is sure, and soon I have left
Three dead, garroted, lying on the forest floor. The kill
Has given me satisfaction, a sense of purpose. Treachers
That trail a Hunter are doomed to such a fate. Yet they present
Me with a problem, for such a great many of them follow
That my ingenuity may not be sufficient. I may already be lost,

Failure ensured by an advantage of numbers. A Hunter is never truly lost,
But he can be defeated if he is left
Completely alone. Until now, singularity is the philosophy I’ve followed,
But not even this Hunter can kill
So many by himself. Traps I have placed, small presents
For my trailers. I can hear the occasional agonized scream of a treacher

Who has been maimed or injured. A Hunter despises treachers
Who have no honor, and so I have concealed my traps. Perhaps they have lost
A limb or two; that may make them reconsider their presence
Behind me. Up another hill I run, the trees I have left
Behind and only grass remains. I will be visible, and their urge to kill
Me will be equally clear. It is only a matter of time before those who follow

Finally catch me. The rocky knoll ahead is where I race, and death follows
Me, howling for my blood with the voices of a thousand treachers.
Death I can accept, and sometimes I have wished for it. But I must kill
That traitorous baron before I die or the meaning of my life will be lost.
A Hunter does not die while allowing his enemy to be left
Unharmed. I cannot miss the opportunity that chance may still present.

Yet there are still so many treachers left.
Will Hunter be lost in the pain that follows?
One last hunt, a final kill, and life can be rid of my presence.

VII: Dilemma

Now, at last, his face revealed,
The baron stands before me, yet
My hate knows neither rest nor weal,
And my anger I cannot forget
While he still lives. Though he shows courage
By coming here, he seals his fate,
For skill is my advantage:
A Hunter will not hesitate
To kill no matter the cost when faced
With one who has betrayed. His henchmen
Crowd around this knoll, their bows made
Ready. I am their target, again
As I have been forever. It seems
The days have melted together, shadowed
By the love I can’t believe
Has come to me. But still I know,
And I think I always have,
That fate would not allow return
Of a Hunter to a love like that.
Now, the final circle turned,
Though heavily outnumbered, I
Will fight until the end. The knife
Will greet the baron ere I die
And put an end to treacher’s strife.
But with flash of gold, his icy smile
Has changed the way that I must be,
For he has brought across the miles
His only weapon, his one key
To ensure compliance. How
He found her, I know not. It does
Not matter, I will not allow
The baron to harm my only love.
He grins and thinks that he has won,
He takes a spear and calls to me:
As punishment for what I’ve done,
He plans to set her spirit free.
A Hunter stands, again betrayed,
This time by choices his heart made,
For if I were a Hunter true,
I would do what I must do,
And run to fight another day.

VIII: Retribution

I am Hunter, feel my fury,
Foolish one who crossed my path,
I will show you vengeance like no other.
I am justice, judge and jury,
You cannot guard against my wrath,
That is something you will soon discover.
You have brought me pain and anguish and a lack of peace,
You have brought my love before me, allowing no release
From agony, her safety in your hands.

Hold your spear, yes, keep it still,
And threaten not her life,
Or I will disregard my own precautions.
If she dies, then so you will,
For I will throw my knife,
A perfect gift for one with your delusions.
Say again how you believe that I’m the one who left
You, baron, task forgotten, say that I’m the one who fled
Disgraced, the only Hunter in the land.

You are one who knows better than most,
Dear baron, that I would never flee
From one who I thought held my service true.
You lie, deceive, care not the costs
Or consequences there may be
If I reveal the truth of what you do.
For it is I who killed the men that you had wished removed,
And it is I who watched over the servants deemed untrue,
Perhaps that is the reason I am marked.

Betrayed for knowledge I possess,
Is that the means that you pursue,
To guarantee that you are not exposed?
A Hunter does not talk unless
He is given reason to,
The treachers that I see are ones you chose,
So I assume that this is what you had planned from the start,
To use a Hunter, proud and true, manipulate a heart
That longed to find a purpose in the dark.

Still my knife prepared to fly,
You threaten her to seal my fate,
In hopes that I will give in and submit.
A Hunter is prepared to die
Rather than capitulate,
A thousand threats will not cause me to quit.
For if she dies, and with it love, then my life ends as well,
This Hunter has grown weary, and the pain no longer tells
The tale of how the boy became a man.

I meet her eyes, and share a grin,
Of comfort and of happiness,
Her kiss will see me through the coming trial.
She understands that I have sinned
And loves despite the emptiness,
She embraces Hunter all the while.
It seems so long, but we were there together just last night,
I knew that when we met my presence would bring down the might
Of treachers who removed her from my hands.

Then baron smiles, I know resolve
Reflected in your glare of hate
And spear is thrust into her without pause.
My hesitation has dissolved
With visions of your chosen fate,
As love dies I am filled with holy cause.
My knife flies true, and now you are recipient of death,
Heart is pierced and lungs have taken in a final breath,
But I have failed to save her from her doom.

A hundred arrows strike my skin
As treachers answer duty’s call,
Their baron dead and so they must avenge.
Now the end of life begins,
As knees collapse and Hunter falls,
Abandoning the knoll that housed revenge.
By chance or fate I stop my fall next to her empty eyes,
And deep within the depths of blue is where the shadows lie,
The darkness, precious darkness, how it looms.

IX: Hunter’s Lament

Slow
The darkness
Comes so
Slow.
Surrounded by men who have betrayed,
On a grave of stones my choices made,
In the flickering light that starts to fade,
But still
The darkness
Comes so
Slow.

Love
I saw the
End of
Love.
When hate impaled her on the spear,
Destroying all the I held dear,
I knew the terror, tasted fear,
And then
I saw the
End of
Love.

Death
I know the
Face of
Death.
I see the vision within her eyes,
Like all the others those countless times,
My heart again grows cold inside,
Finally
I know the
Face of
Death,

And it is mine.

X: A Choice of Angels

Now I must face the dawning dread
     As You call for my soul,
My wounded, bleeding body fallen
     Off this rocky knoll,
Around me stand the enemies
     That wait for my last breath,
And watch as I pay homage to
     You, Angel of the Dead.

Wings of horror, deepest black,
     You carried me away,
And renewed a faith I’d lost so long
     Before this dying day.
For never did I credit this:
     That Angels walked the sky,
But now the Dark One shadows me
     To take my soul to die.

The Lord of Light abandoned me
     When I was but a child;
He took my parents far way
     And left me in the wild.
Forsaken by His Angels when
     I needed them the most,
So now my pain has turned to hate
     And death, my only Host.

If He had held me when I cried
     Or sheltered me at night,
I could have chosen other paths
     Than the one for which I fight.
But no, the child inside me died
     When tragedy I faced
Alone, and Hunter, born of pain
     Arises in my place.

Now stands the man before the gate,
     My choices firm and clear,
I tried to answer bitterness
     With suffering and fear.
‘Tis not my fault that I am now
     The predator He sees:
He led me down this path the day
     His Angels let me be.

So come now, Angel of the Dead,
     And claim what is Your right.
My soul I hand to You, for I
     Have given up the fight.
My body, broken and betrayed,
     At long last lets me go,
Abandonment to agony
     Is all I’ll ever know.

XI: Death Has a Dignity All Its Own

My soul is at peace wherever I roam,
Though heinous crimes I did commit,
My death has a dignity all its own.

My past behavior I will not disown,
Although it took from me respect,
My soul is at peace wherever I roam.

As treachery hands me a fatal blow,
I fight for life; I do not quit,
And death has a dignity all its own.

I say farewell to all that I know,
And no time remains to voice regret,
Yet my soul is at peace wherever I roam.

I have always expected this bitter cold,
But my time has come, and I must admit
That death has a dignity all its own.

As darkness envelops me, all unknown,
I am shielded by memories of love’s last kiss,
And my soul is at peace wherever I roam,
For death has a dignity all its own.

XII: Epitaph

Look at how the grass has grown above this pile of stones
Where enemies fell down upon a man they shadowed then,
The rubble strewn about the place where Hunter met his end.
A breath away from dying when a smile betrayed his mask,
For there are men who wish to be alone,
And Hunter was a man alone at last.

singularly ambitious there rdh. i but briefly scanned the sections but i am knocked out that anyone attempts this kind of thing. kudos!
i look forward to having a cuppa tea and reading this in its entirety

(ps. since my main wow toon is a hunter i'm particularly interested!)

lucimay wrote:singularly ambitious there rdh. i but briefly scanned the sections but i am knocked out that anyone attempts this kind of thing. kudos!
i look forward to having a cuppa tea and reading this in its entirety

(ps. since my main wow toon is a hunter i'm particularly interested!)

Thanks! Hope you actually enjoyed it once you read the whole thing.

lucimay wrote:singularly ambitious there rdh. i but briefly scanned the sections but i am knocked out that anyone attempts this kind of thing. kudos!
i look forward to having a cuppa tea and reading this in its entirety

(ps. since my main wow toon is a hunter i'm particularly interested!)

She's reading my mind. I need to take a break from reading stuff for a little while, but just trying to write an epic poem is praiseworthy, and from what I've read so far, this is powerful stuff and will require a little more attention than I'm free to invest in reading at this moment.

How about a link to your music?

Please tell me some funny poems that rhyme. I want to gift a list of funny poems that rhyme to my friends. Because my friends are asked me to tell them some funny poems that rhyme. I want to know them to give my friends.

I thought it was nice enough to share.