Monday, April 20, 2009

The feathered Trolls of Yore.....

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I modded weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of gaming lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a trolling,
As of some one gently nagging, nagging at my chatroom door.
`'Tis some Troll,' I muttered, `trolling at my chatroom door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying member wrought its badge upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost - Zilnore
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Zilnore -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the slothy sad uncertain posting of each new badge promised
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic achievements never gained before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some Troll entreating entrance at my chatroom door -
Some late Troll entreating entrance at my chatroom door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your Silence I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came nuking, nuking at my chatroom door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Droopy there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming impossible badges no mortal ever dared to dream before
But the silence was unbroken, and the banning gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Zilnore!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Zilnore!'
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chatroom turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a trolling somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something in my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the whiners and nothing more!'

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately user of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chatroom door -
Perched upon a bust of Tuulas just above my chatroom door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this level 1 user beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy *cough*crest*cough* be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient user wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Galexian shore!'
Quoth the user, `Gimmemore.'

Much I marveled this ungainly fellow to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing users above his chatroom door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chatroom door,
With such name as `Gimmemore.'

But the User, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a finger then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'
Then the user said, `Gimmemore.'

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Badgeless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till Greg's songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Gimme-Gimmemore."'

But the user still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of user and bust and door;
Then, upon the green-light sinking, I betook myself to linking
Game unto game, thinking what this ominous User of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous user of yore
Meant in croaking `Gimmemore.'

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no lolspeak expressing
To the user whose fiery prose now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head in palms reclining
On the Admin's velvet lining that the red-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the red-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, gimmemore!

Then, methought, the room grew denser, alts poured in from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the sparkly floor.
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these Mods he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Zilnore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Zilnore!'
Quoth the User, `Gimmemore.'

`Troll!' said I, `thing of evil! - Troll still, if user or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this gaming land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there balm in Kongregate? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the User, `Gimmemore.'

`Troll!' said I, `thing of evil! - Troll still, if user or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that Greg we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Zilnore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Zilnore?'
Quoth the User, `Gimmemore.'

`Be that word our sign of parting, user or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Galexian shore!
Leave no Kongai card as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my warning unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy lament from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the User, `Gimmemore.'

And the user, never flitting, still is gaming, still is gaming
On the pallid bust of Tuulas just above my chatroom door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a Troll's that is dreaming,
And the green-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my level from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - Gimmemore!

(based on The Raven, by Edgar Allen Poe)


  1. wow tarl... that is pretty spectacular...

  2. OMG... i loved this poem, but now i think i love it more! epic, tarl...