Aqalyre: Sticks and Stones

Sticks and stones

Will break my bones,

But scoffs and scorns

Won’t make me mourn.

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Iron and steel,

Their wounds won’t heal.

Ignore vicious mocking.

Let me do the talking.

-

Sticks and stones.

Tree branches spiked with thorns.

This weapon has been magically enhanced.

Made a Shillelagh from a Quarterstaff.

-

Iron and steel,

They profanely claim it’s unnatural.

Pride of Dwarves and smiths,

Those Druids earned a death sentence.

-

Sticks and Stones.

I sneak into their forest homes.

I steal them out from their treetop beds,

Leave them impaled upon the branches.

-

Iron and steel.

Loud metal music makes them kneel.

Hands over their heads shaking with fear,

That’ll show them to respect metal gear.

-

Sticks and stones.

With slings and pebbles to knock me prone.

I dash past their front lines

Up to the stone-slingers’ row.

-

Iron and steel.

Prepare yourself for the pain you’ll feel.

I threaten to feed them to the birds.

Before I can, they drop dead at my words.

-

Sticks and stones,

A volley of them they've thrown.

Open wounds.

I’m sure to die if I don’t leave soon.

-

Iron and steel.

I take a hostage but I don’t reveal

That it’s just a corpse, already dead.

So gullible, they believe my threat.

-

Sticks and stones

Will break my bones,

But words will never hurt me.

Wait, is that what you believe?

-

Scoffs and scorns,

And spikes and horns.

Words rend bone and flesh.

You should fear eloquence.

-

Iron and steel,

What a sultry meal.

Barely suitable

As weapon material.

-

Sticks and stones,

Leave them at home.

If you want to fight,

Don’t bring a knife.

-

Scoffs and scorns

Are carnage’s door.

When I let my tongue loose,

You’re infernally consumed.

-

Iron and steel,

Armor and shield.

Nothing can protect

From a tongue’s sharp edge.

-

Sticks and stones

Are weapons of war,

But words alone,

Overpower a kingdom.

-

Scoffs and scorns,

Not pikes or swords,

Lay waste to armies,

End sieges and famines.

-

Iron and steel,

A coat of arms reveals

That this dwarven clan

Descends from Moradin.

-

Sticks and stones

Hurt less than being alone.

I’m blind to bruises

But not to insults.

-

Scoffs and scorns,

Their screams are what I adore.

My barbs extend from my skin

And stops their heart as they impale them.

-

Iron and steel

Compared to my hypodermic needles

Lacks my piercing power and thrust.

So why is it I don’t have your trust?