Im bored. Hence Creative. Hence Disturbing

[Old Nicodemus]

Now Smurf, you had to mention slapping
those leather bound freaks will be clapping
those lines at the gates
that everyone hates
now won't be of stealthers cat napping

 

[the_smurflord]

Now nico, you've the brains of a chimp
As shown in your rhyming, quite limp.
At the thought of a slapping
Few would be clapping
Unless it's slapping the old Spiritgimp!

 

[Urgat Rip-Eye]

Me Go!

Dese oomies, dey got quite good grammer,
Bud me finks dey be nuffink but spammers,
Dey soon start da hurtin'
When mi fungus start working,
And me bash in dey headz wiv mi hammer!

 

[the_smurflord]

How fitting from the mouth of a troll
Attempting to rhyme, my how droll
Yet his diction is lacking
And as for skull cracking,
You'll first get a taste of my pole!

 

[Urgat Rip-Eye]

Hah!

Come near me wiv dat an' yer dead!
Me nub lie wiv oomies in bed!
If yer want yer pole tasting,
Den me have to be stating,
Find a nice oomie girl instead!

 

[Old Nicodemus]

Ahhh! Urgat my friendly Troll
in this thread I see you stroll
don't mind the whining
it's just smurf pining
keep it up, you're on a roll.

 

[Urgat Rip-Eye]

Hur Hur

Um, Nico, me nub on a roll
Me standing quite still on dis knoll
me finkz your mixed up
now, 'scuse me, headz up,
Me gonna show smurf a TROLL POLE!

 

[old.Gryllus]

I've just found this thread
it almost drove me mad
fell off my chair laughing
grabbed my quill rhyming
thanks for the fun with reading I had!

And now it's too late
it's come to your fate
you've wake up the poet
you should know, Gryllus is a
rhyme-writing armsman,
with capped charisma!

For the sake of old good times
when I was there fighting,
there was a legend
of a great combat event
you can read this old writing , again.



Epic of a sad sunday

Lets go, raid these hibernians,
We fight and take their strength relic!
And Albion rides through ranges -
Here begins our sad epic.

Emain is still and silent,
Big troll guards sit on the gate.
"Sumthing's coming!" says one of them,
And watches at the distant east.

Wut is that, a giant dust-snake?
Newa seen that mob befor'
They try to run but its now too late,
It was the rush of Albion.

So the proud armee runs and
takes away the elven keeps.
Firbolgs dying, keep lords lying,
And that's only the beginning.

Now the brave albian party
Gathers at the relic keep.
They rush and no relic guard
Stands the rage of paladins.

Defenders come, defenders fall,
The siege brigad defends the doors.
But some elves manage to sneak in,
That later causes big troubles.

Relic doors are hard to beat, but
Slowly break up all the tree.
And the tired fighters enter,
To harvest the victory.

Now, to everybody's surprise,
All who dares to pass the door,
Instantly get slaughtered by
the angry wrath of Teador.

Tired, beaten, bloodcovered group
Of sad albians goes to home.
Their own precious relic's taken:
It was raided by the trolls.

What's the moral of the story,
You must figure it out.
I have to stop this writing right now,
My eagle-feather dries out.

 

[Urgat Rip-Eye]

Huh?

Me startin' ta wunder what wrong,
Seemz armsmen nub un'nerstan' song
Dem nub even rhyme!
Me fink most of da time...
All dat metal make thinking take long.

 

[Edlina]

It's the albion influence
only infiltrators write with suspense
they know how to rhyme
at least, part of the time
they limerick with excellent cadence

 

[the_smurflord]

Jup's driving really takes the piss.
Last night near this high precipice,
he was too busy typing,
to watch where he's driving.
You want proof? Sure, look at this.

 

[Jupitus]

 

[Old Nicodemus]

LMAO