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GALLERY OF HEROES AND GALLERY OF EVIL SPECIAL
The Two Tomes
Twin tomes sought by Neopia,
Two vastly different things.
One emblazoned with beast so dark,
And one with silken wings.
One holds horrors, nightmare fiends,
Trapped in each tattered page.
The other with pure good
Do short tales engage.
Bindings golden, cobalt silk,
The pages gleam with white.
Commending those who fight for good,
And seek to do what's right.
Chapters echo famous names,
Hannah, Gorix, Armin.
Those who walk the lighted path
Are heralded within.
Depicted on each velvet page
Are heroes of our realm.
Guardians of this small world,
They guide us from the helm.
Fyora, Kelpbeard, noble folk,
Tomos, Jeran, Garin.
Battles fought, the world is safe,
For good must always win.
More sinister, the crimson tome,
Bound by talons of steel.
Creatures most fear to speak of,
This book does trap, conceal.
Sloth is listed on one page,
Razul and Vira too.
Beasts like Kass and Court Dancer,
One chapter on Von Roo.
Their names provoke such chilling fear,
Mere thought does bring such dread.
Creatures who walk shadowed paths,
That sane folk will not tread.
Collections of the good, the bad,
Creatures of fame, indeed.
All caught within these matching tomes,
If you should dare to read.
The writer sits before her desk,
Her pen aglow with flame.
The shadows prance about, grotesque,
As vilely as they came.
"My skill must have declined, I fear."
The poet holds up her page.
"For hours have I pondered here,
Yet words will not engage."
She goes toward her shelf of books
To find a dreary tome
Suffused with Neopia's grimmest spooks
That sinfully do roam.
From Frank Sloth down to Eliv Thade,
Each villain has a tale
That in this book is bleakly laid
In horrible detail.
The poet flips from start to end,
Seeking villains bold
With whom she might her work expand
And so her readers hold.
But her hands begin to shake and chill
With every page she reads;
Her heart with dread begins to fill
As she thinks of evil deeds.
She drops the book with startled scream
And finally does see
The thing that might her work redeem --
The heroes' gallery.
With a menacing grin and a swagger to match,
Look to the shadows; a glimpse you may catch,
Of a devious criminal full of strength and wit,
Plus determination, and a mind full of grit.
A dark blue cape that flows back in the breeze,
Creasing and curling to cause you unease.
Just one single look and you cower in fear,
But be sure to stay silent, else he will hear.
A ruthless thief with his eyes set on gold,
And treasures and trinkets of stories untold.
Whatever the climate, he's ready to fight,
Stopping opponents with an almighty smite.
An ominous bandana atop his head,
Masking anything left unsaid.
Emotions and feelings are hidden with care,
All that remains is a treacherous stare.
A jagged dagger firmly in his grasp,
His swift movements cause you to gasp.
Waiting in shadows for his time to rise,
Ready to strike and sever all ties.
Leader of the renowned guild of thieves,
Stealing from houses, through them he weaves.
He bullies and blackmails his way to success,
Specialising in causing others distress.
He preys on the weak, steals from the poor,
Victory is his, of which he is sure.
So listen to me and don't make a stand,
Or perish at the dagger of Galem Darkhand.
The Bringer of Night
The Bringer of Night, a terrible beast,
With a hatred for Bori that runs so deep,
The foolish thieves saw to it that he was released,
So he could travel to the mountain's keep.
He wanted to retrieve the mountain's heart
And use it for his own person's gain
He wanted to tear the Bori's lives apart,
And to inflict upon them endless, endless pain.
The Bringer wanted the mountain's gem
So he could destroy all of them.
To get to that gem, he waged a war
With his skeletons icy and numerous, too,
But Galem knew what he was looking for,
And, the Bringer told, he was quick to subdue.
They reached the heart of the mountain's chamber
And battled while Hannah gave the Bori release.
He struck at the heart in a burst of anger,
Was frozen, and by Armin was shattered to pieces.
All is now normal, and just as it seems,
But still will the Bringer haunt the Bori's dreams.
Stirred with Love
Ladle in hand,
apron at waist.
Her one-faerie band
has perfect taste!
She sits out at the market all day,
giving food to those in need.
True to her nature, she takes no pay,
only asking they show no greed.
Many join the uniform line,
stretching from here to there.
With her soup to eat, all is fine;
it cleanses the trouble they bear.
Warm, cold, somewhere between,
spicy or sweet with crunchy, green leeks.
All those who come pick their bowls clean,
with a belly quite full and rosy red cheeks.
Just as it says, a kiss on their head,
And she leads them on their way.
Always, they'll remember just what she said:
"May you have a wonderful day!"
Hers doesn't end; it goes on through the night,
spent mixing and stirring with haste.
Helped by a stew that's always just right,
none ever goes to waste!
A Blob... and a Villain
Some villains just don't look the part,
For this one, that's the case.
Wobbling tuft upon its head,
So blank, its jelly face.
Solid mound, gelatin mass,
And yet partly see-through.
No name to carry for its own,
The Jelly Chia, round and blue.
"A villain, him?" you ask, surprised,
"This mere dessert piece oversized?"
That's what they all think at first glance,
Until they hear the tale...
The first and only 'edible friend,'
Experiment doomed to fail.
Confectioner, Wizzle by name,
Like most, sought riches, fame:
This Chia treat would be your pal
'til hungry you became.
Quite deranged, this Wizzle lad,
To create such thing; just mad.
At first the plan did smoothly roll;
The Chia a real friend.
Wizzle taught and read to it,
To new pal he did tend.
Alas, his stomach growled quite soon,
Time of friendship was now past.
Entire mound of sweet dessert,
To serve its purpose here at last.
What was the poor Chia to do?
Its dreadful planned fate it now knew.
From here, the tables swiftly turned,
In fear, the blob did act.
Engulfed and dissolved Wizzle whole...
(Who's still there, that's a fact.)
To this day, it bounces on,
Loneliness in each stride.
Evil, or just unlucky?
Reader, you can decide.
For the life of gel sweetened...
Is to eat, or be eaten.
A Gallery of Villains and Heroes
"Oh villains," says the hero,
The one of greatest might,
"Oh, villains rank below zero,
Awful demons of the night."
"Oh heroes," says the villain,
That one of greatest dark,
"Heroes are pathetic as a pin,
Avoiding them is quite a lark."
"Oh villains," says Judge Hog,
Peering sternly over glasses,
"Villains must face the justice log,
This duty to my assistant passes."
Vira in her sweeping cloak of night,
She who fears the dreaded mirror,
And the DoN forces of light,
They have given names such inflection.
"Oh heroes, they are so easily squashed,"
Sloth tells his Grundo minion reign,
"They should all be firmly quashed,"
And he swirls the cloak lined with pain.
Cold walls from which faces stare,
A gallery dedicated to glory and fear,
Purposefully revealing good and evil's lair,
To ordinary Neopians standing here.
The Howl of the Ghost Lupe
Forlorn, forgotten, left to dust,
A teal-grey mist, creeping through.
A corporeal form -- it must adjust,
Its foreboding presence do all eschew.
The prowling Lupe, a lifeless ghost,
Mystery Island is its haunt.
Forever to hold as its post,
With a face both grim and gaunt.
Yet the spectral being was once whole,
A shipwreck'd sailor, nay, first mate.
The Lupe's transparent, mighty soul,
Searched for his bride, as wont by fate.
And yet the natives kept their prize,
No one knows what happened then.
Now fear holds them in their eyes,
The Ghost Lupe haunts them once again!
His hidden paws press on the earth,
A searching nose seeks out its prey.
Blood-red eyes gleam with mirth,
And he begins to mightily bay.
The natives shudder as he comes,
Their well-made spears to no avail.
They beat their painted drums,
But all attempts to dissuade fail.
The crimson eyes widen with anger,
His spirit throat rumbles within.
And in a song so frightfully eager,
A lusty howl does begin.
Day comes early, he disappears,
The natives flee back to their homes.
His revenge is fed on their dark fears,
Mystery Island he forever roams.
The Book of Evil and the Book of Heroes
The book is red and bound with steel;
A shadowed beast rests on its face.
Its pages dark secrets reveal;
Forgotten crimes that brought disgrace.
Their dark blame lies recorded here,
That no offence be forgotten.
Victims have shed many a tear;
May such wrong not happen again.
This warning be to the unwise:
Aspire not to these grim pages
Whose words sully innocent eyes,
Whose taint remains through the ages.
Turn to the book of blue and gold,
Defended by the wings and shield.
Rejoice in tales of heroes old,
Let wrath and sorrow both be healed.
Remember these cheerful stories,
In which good triumphs over bad;
Remember these heroes' glories
After the trials they have had.
Then know the feeling in your heart
Of all that is purest and true.
Go, that you may wisdom impart;
A hero always finds work to do.
Lisha, Once Upon a Time
Once upon a time, she gazed into the stars,
Knowing exactly what to wish for.
Deep in her heart, Lisha missed sorely,
Her one and only brother.
Once upon a time, she tumbled into Meridell,
A new and unfamiliar realm.
With her friends, the Aisha soon discovered,
Jeran was at the knights' helm.
Once upon a time, she ran into his arms,
Excited to see him once more.
But the kingdom is still far from peaceful,
And remains immersed in war.
Once upon a time, Lisha discovered,
The Court Dancer's enchanting ruse.
She wasted no time in exposing the secret;
With her wits, Lisha revealed the truth.
Once upon a time, Lisha waited and waited,
For Jeran to return from the fight.
Would he survive? Would he return?
The Lupe did, a testament to his might!
Once upon a time, Lisha was but a child,
A little girl of hopes and dreams.
But after everything she has been through,
Our heroine has grown up, it seems!
The Gallery of Heroes and the Gallery of Evil
Two books upon two pedestals,
One black, the other white.
One holds within it all that's wrong,
The other all that's right.
The Gallery of Evil
And its more heroic kin
Both hold enormous mysteries
And secrets deep within.
First let's look upon the good,
The Gallery of Heroes.
Unsullied by all villainy,
The purest book's what we chose.
Let's crack the cover, look within,
And turn a page or two.
We'll learn the tales of noble souls
Whose hearts were brave and true.
From common names, like Jeran,
To the obscure Galgarroth;
Despite their many differences,
They're cut from the same cloth.
Tomos, Kayla, Master Vex,
Judge Hog and even Armin;
All their demeanours wonderful,
Their countenances charmin'.
Commander Gormos, King Kelpbeard,
Their stories shall be handed down,
Told again and again.
King Skarl and the Space Faerie,
Jhuidah and her pot.
Jacques and Garin, Gorix too;
Their names shan't be forgot.
But now we gaze upon the book
That's mouldy, black as pitch.
It's covered with a slimy film;
It seems to be bewitched.
We feel afraid to take a look
At what may lie within,
For surely it will be a tale
Of villainy and sin.
The first face there is that of Sloth,
The last, of Eliv Thade.
Their gruesome visages sport glares
Fit to make one afraid.
The pirates Benny and Scarblade,
The Tax Beast and Von Roo.
The Jelly Chia, Shadow Usul,
Meuka and Garoo.
Jhudora and the Darkest Faerie
Grace these pages dark.
From Darigan to Hubrid Nox,
They all have made their mark.
No one dares to speak these names,
And no one likes to think
What sticky substance may compose
The old tome's reddish ink.
So there they sit, the volumes two,
That hold the best and worst;
The fairest and the black of heart,
The blessed and the cursed.
Take inspiration from the heroes;
Do deeds brave and bold,
And shun the evil that still lurk.
Their tales are all here told.
Total Poetry Pages : 1690
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