The Looming Battle

In the background


A battle looms on the horizon.
Light or dark shall be broken.
The field is a smallish little town.
Good King Gedron wears the crown.

People simple, happy and free
living together with curtsey
go about their daily tasks.
In harmony they bask.

They know not yet what is to come,
a deed so dark they can not fathom.
Evil encroaches hungrily with glee,
waiting, watching, a demon army.

The General's gnarled hand motions quiet
not wanting to foreshadow the coming gambit.
The demon hoard restlessly shifts.
Their foul minds begin to drift

anticipating meals of virginal flesh,
of young girls, tender and fresh,
of man meat pealed from the bone,
of babies skulls crushed upon stone.

Alone this morn on an outlying farm
a young girl of grace and charm
happily hums a jaunty tune
then senses danger does loom.

She stands still reaching deep inside
calling to village women far and wide.
Drawing on earth's magic she does cast
urging all to assemble at the keep fast.

An old woman hears her beloved child's plea.
She looks within to knowledge of what will be.
Her face wrinkles further in abject horror
instantly knowing what will come is sorrow.

"To the keep!" she screams to the nearby men.
She has warned them true again and again.
Off they run as swift as they can
guarding the lives of all of their clan.

The general senses a shift in the air.
For the village folk he has not a care.
He quickly does the attack order give.
He will die before the village will live.

In the village keep men hastily arm,
all prepared to keep them from harm.
Catapults and bows, arrows and spears
axes, pikes, and swords do appear.

Children are sent deep down below
as maidens and crones prepare to sow
the seeds of magic that now are required
to help achieve the outcome desired.

Demons charge, the mass an evil beast
swarming upon the good people's keep.
The brave men stand fast and do not waiver
praying to God their cause he will favor.

High upon the keep's rampart archers let arrows fly
while the hoard releases a savage battle cry
that chills the men way down deep into their bones
women call upon ancestors long dead with sacred moon stones.

On the other side of the village the young girl runs.
The need of her loved one's increasingly beckons.
In a panicked fueled frenzy she does not see,
does not notice what is coming just for she.

Three Orks in the trees quietly seethe,
a scouting party sent to thieve.
Upon the maiden their eyes now fix.
They lust hungrily for the virginal witch.

Behind the keep's walls the old woman weaves
earth and fire mixed with air to deceive.
Eyes of demons, orks and trolls will cloud
in the keep the village it will enshroud.

Panting, struggling and shaking she must endure.
The power is needed for victory to ensure.
The magic she calls forth comes with a price.
Gladly the old woman pays with her life.

With her final gasp she sends forth an airy mist
grimacing as she falls into her final abyss.
The women around her have time not to grieve,
so very much have they left to left achieve.

The sacred circle five do form
as three more prepare for the swarm.
Many an enemy was already in
before the old woman's spell did begin.

The men of the village fight bravely.  They do,
but loss of their number they quickly accrue.
Swords striking ring out loudly in the din.
Arrows hiss by as a young falls yet again.


King Gedron's son is now passed into shade.
He died nobly taking many with his blade.
As the good king looks upon his beloved son,
a poisoned spear through his chest is run

wielded by the General's own bastard spawn
bred of a gorgon he captured one dawn.
The son will now have his father's favor
of the battle he will get credit as savior.

And while the bloody battle wages ever on
the girl to her people faster is drawn.
The Orks see how fast onward she flies
and descend with a manic lust in their eyes.

She is grabbed by a rotten flesh encased hand
encircled by two more in an ever shrinking band.
She knows that this may be her final stand
so defiantly raises her eyes in demand

and glares at what threatens her this hour,
part of the beast that has come to devour,
knowing she has not the tools to fight
what is about to befall her this night.


While in the keep men fall like rain
to the onslaughting herds begining to reign.
Pushed up against the last barring door
seventeen men stand to honor a vow they swore,

to protect the women and children within
to give even their lives for them.
Covered in battle earned blood and gore
they now bar the last remaining door.

That thin wooden door that is to the rear
separating all they have ever known and hold dear.
All stand ready with sword and spear.
A last stand before their worst fear.

Over a hundred foul beasts remain.
Everyone of them looking to gain
the treasures that are held within,
the dear ones of the last of the men.

The youngest lad now does stand in awe.
Something he sees, a tiny opportunity, a flaw.
As upon the bodies of his dead friends the beast gnaw,
he notes each foul beast is pierced above his gaping maw.

A single stone dangles from every nitemare face.
The lad wonders if the women can use it to abase,
to put an end to this horrible, swelling foe,
this ever encroachng hoarde, the bringers of sorrow.

A scream he lets loose and hopes it carries.
"One stone have all!" he screams as he parries.
The ork with whom he fights is much larger than he
but the village lad is quick and slices behind the knee.

As the foul ork goes down with a mighty yell,
our young lad quickly sends him to hell.
His family name lost to him all of life
matters not as with the other hand he unsheaths his knife.

Charging forward snarling with determination
he now faces the general's bastard abomination.
A face so fierce does he now behold
it challenges his blooded nature to be bold.


Fear has crept into his tender young soul
but he does not allow it to hinder his goal.
As all around them the battle does wage
the young lad keenly his opponent does gauge.

His foe is older, larger and stonger than he.
An experienced fighter now does he see.
But the lad has wit, courage and heart.
From this challenge he will not depart.

The two opponents fight with a purpose honed savagery.
Each one drawing blood, narrowly escaping tragedy.
In the end, just as the lad is knocked to the ground,
the blood of hero's within him brings him round.

The ork looms over him gloating and screetching,
closer and closer to the lad's face reaching.
The lad bides his time knowing this will decide
the fate of an enemy he will not abide.

He smells the decaying stench of the ork's breath
as his knife flys upward to cut him to death.
His blade lands home in a scaled, mottled throat.
So ends his enemies prideful gloat.

The lad pushes the offensive remains from his chest
as the other brave village men do their best
to fight back the enemy away from the door,
away from what they most love and adore.

The general has now made his way to the fore.
Seeing the fruit that from his loins was bore
laying face first in a heap upon the floor,
He growls to his troops "get through that door!"


He steadily comes forward for the lad turned hero this day
just as the women loose an astounding array
of magic attuned to the dangling ork's stones.
It is channelled though the onyx into their bones.

Each ork before the men this day does melt away,
too late for most of the village who had to pay.
Still in the forrest a young girl is struggling
bruised and bleeding, crys from her sore throat gurgling.

In her head she prays ferverently for a quick death
wanting most not to leave her family bereft.
Siletly she crys out a plea
"women, dear women, now hear me."

In the keep sorrow for loss overshadows joy of victory
even though for now they have protected their boundary.
They have lost father, husband, and brother
aunt, cousin, sister and mother.

Lamenting over the carnage the women see what is to befall
just as an exhausted women is attuned to the girl child's call.
She hangs her head in abject misery and begins to bawl
This girl to them is the most sacred of all


The newly emerged hero comes to the group in a daze.
"What is it? What now? What in God's name more" he bays.
The women can't bear to look at him.
To speak of the evil, where do they begin?

Finally after much crying and shreiking the woman does tell
of what is now happening to their beloved Adonell,
that sweet child that all placed their hope into
to see for them as all her mothers before her did true.

The young hero gasps as he wearily falls to his knees.
His heart is breaking, to him she is the spring's breeze
light upon his soul, so sweet, nurishing and kind
he thought one day to mate. She is never far from his mind.

"Where is she now, how far?  How many must I destroy?"
Rage and fear course through him.  He is no longer a boy.
In one fatal day he is gown to a man. This day a hero is born.
His one true love, a demon's bed he will not have her adorn.

The woman they doubt he can save Adonell
but what knowledge they have they tell.
With a fierce dedication our hero departs
stepping over bodies fallen from the ramparts.

He never looks down. His step does not waiver.
He must find Adonell. He must be her savior.
Through the village and into the woods he traverses.
All demonkind with his entire soul he curses.

Adonell the fair, his heart's own maiden.
From him he will not have her taken.
From when they were children playing by day
all his life he has thought of her this way.

And so he trudges faitfully ever on
while Adonell is now almost gone.
The orks have ripped off long strips of her skin,
feasted from her before worse games they begin.

The young girl is silently pleading to the Lord
"Take me, don't let me be a plaything of the hoard."
A terror so pure she has never known.
Her pain beyond boundaries has grown.

Her wrists are bound, from shackles she hangs
bloody, broken, beaten and becoming deranged.
The three demons around her sneeringly jest
of just what will they will do to her next.


Hiding in the brush the young hero does see
what he cannot and never will allow to be.
Adonell disrobed and chained to a tree,
bleeding and broken. Barley alive is she.

He wants desperately to rush to her now
to sweep her up and his love avow,
but he knows the gamble he is to take.
He must do this right for Adonell's sake.

Three monstrous orks he will now face alone.
All he must kill to bring his love home.
He will not back down. He will not waiver.
He will save her life and win her favor.

The biggest ork by far does now brag,
"Now we mark our prize before we drag
her down to service us all as a bitch should.
Right now, we will mount her here in this wood."

As he swaggers over to Adonell his back is now turned.
In the hero his passion ignites and is burned.
He sees his best chance now at hand
and casts his knife right to land

deep inside the hideous ork's craggy back.
Not an ounce of force does his cast lack.
The ork now falls to ground face first.
The hero charges forth prepared for the worst

the other two orks have in them to hand out.
Today he must be the victor there can be no doubt.
Sword in one hand, knife in the other, he stabs and slashes. 
With the Lord's favor one skull with his hilt he bashes.

Now, only one lone demon ork monster does remain.
The hero is battle weary and loosing his gain.
He digs down deep for strength he knew not he had.
While his wounds gush forth, he goes somewhat mad,

enraged that today he has lost most he ever knew.
The final lone beastly ork decidedly is slew.
He drags his weary bones to the tree.
Getting his love down so gentle is he.

Adonell lays broken now resting upon his arm.
He fears it was too late that he saved her from harm.
She gasps and looks up into his bereft face.
He knows somehow her pain he will erase.

On the blood splattered ground
his one and only love comes around.
Together they will heal each other this day's pain
as they reverently hold onto each other to be whole again.

This day marks not the last but the first.
In coming days it will not be the worst.
Together they will move steadfastly along.
This is but verse one of Lan and Adonell's song.

Each together in coming days will be
a great force for light you see.
Grand adventures await them still
yet to come from the poet's quill.

end chapter one.

To be continued.



Rhonda Enrayne

c 6-7-10

More by this Author

Comments 16 comments

Micky Dee profile image

Micky Dee 6 years ago

Wow! This is hard work and worth it! You've done a great job here! Keep going! Thank you Ma'am!

Inkwell780 profile image

Inkwell780 6 years ago from Cleveland, OH.

I really like your form and insight! Your meter is level and you have excellent thoughts! Keep up the good work!

philosotographer profile image

philosotographer 6 years ago

great job at implanting the mental images :)

Inkwell780 profile image

Inkwell780 6 years ago from Cleveland, OH.

This is epic in proportion and implication I love your soul-style with an earthy feel!

poetvix profile image

poetvix 6 years ago from Gone from Texas but still in the south. Surrounded by God's country. Author

Thank you very much all... It was so nice of you not only to take the time to read but further to leave such kind words. :)

prasetio30 profile image

prasetio30 6 years ago from malang-indonesia

Beautiful hub. Good work, my friend. I really enjoy this poem. I read it word by word, very fantastic! Although I am a teacher and I often write a poem but in my daily language (Indonesian language), But make a poem in English I don't brave to make such of your poem. I still learn and learn. This hub very inspiring. Thank you very much.


poetvix profile image

poetvix 6 years ago from Gone from Texas but still in the south. Surrounded by God's country. Author

Oh wow thanks Prasetio :) I'm so pleased you liked it. Thanks for reading... Happy Hubbing!

Jayson 6 years ago

Oh how art thee with the website!

Druid 6 years ago

Whew! What a whirlwind you must surely be, to wrap your wind around this gnarly battered tree. Cast upon the word line is the path seldom tread, when worn upon your bootheels that treadmark there is dead. Don't know why, but this came to me as I was about to comment on a truly worthy author who has captured the essence. I think my little stanza is a remark on how familiar your pathway seems to be to your imagination, if imagination it is. Muse is everything. Hold on to yours. Love it.

poetvix profile image

poetvix 6 years ago from Gone from Texas but still in the south. Surrounded by God's country. Author

Druid ~ Thanks for taking the time. I know this is a long and crazy one but I really like the characters. Thank you too for your kind comment. Happy hubbing!

pan1974 profile image

pan1974 5 years ago from Columbus,Ga

I seriously love your hubs, I did not know what I was missing until now, you seriously need to publish a book. I love this entertainment. Bravo, bravo

poetvix profile image

poetvix 5 years ago from Gone from Texas but still in the south. Surrounded by God's country. Author

Pan, you have so made my day! Thanks for reading and commenting. I love fantasy tales.

BenWritings profile image

BenWritings 5 years ago from Save me from, Tennessee

I enjoy your poems a lot. talented

Please check out mine. I just joined this whole hub thing :D

poetvix profile image

poetvix 5 years ago from Gone from Texas but still in the south. Surrounded by God's country. Author

BenWritings ~ Thanks for dropping by. I shall have to return the favor. Welcome to Hubpages. I think you will like it here. Happy Hubbing!

Winsome profile image

Winsome 4 years ago from Southern California by way of Texas

I too care about these characters--self-sacrificing, courageous, other-oriented, possessing the power of conviction and heart. Is it petty of me that I left the story wondering if Adonell's wounds will heal and if she will still be physically attractive. Sheeesh, such a guy.

I will enjoy the further adventures of L&A. I admire your stamina. I have to cram all the meaning into a few stanzas like a zipped file and let the reader's mind unravel the essence into flame. You do it for us and leave us wanting more. =:)

poetvix profile image

poetvix 4 years ago from Gone from Texas but still in the south. Surrounded by God's country. Author

Winsome ~ Thank you so much. This was the fist hub I ever published, though I wrote it before finding Hubpages. It was a lot of fun and I still love the characters. It has been so long since I thought of them. I will have to work on chapter three. Thanks for taking the time and commenting. God bless you and happy hubbing!

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