night Soul Woman asked me to answer the challenge from a Klingon point iof view...so here it is:
The glow of red shines around me
My words flow on the screen
Changed
Changed by a P'tak
My ridges rise
The warrior blood within me boils
My hand reaches for my bat'leth
I see my dagger piercing his dishonorable heart
I scan the region
Nothing for several parsecs
He has to be there, hiding, cowering
He has angered a Klingon
That can only mean his death.
My console shows one and zeroes
Poetry to my consort and my desire to bleed for her
Gone
Sent into nothingness.
I find the villain
The virus he sent to destroy my love
Such an unworthy opponent
Not worth tarnishing the steel of a blade
I find the virus
Twist it, bend it to my will
I send it back to him
A gift from an honored warrior
Within moments he will know my wrath
He will see his computer
Fading dying
Communications
Engineering
Transport
All gone
Finally his air
He turns blue, lungs gasping for another breath
His very life being taken from him
A small virus, nothing more than he sent
Suffering
Painful revenge
Slow lingering death
His soul will not be allowed in Sto-vo-kor
He is, was, not an honored spirit
Poetry by Rob Taylor
Read 744 times
Written on 2007-01-22 at 23:49
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Challenge from Night Soul Woman--- Hack The Hacker
I sit at my consoleThe glow of red shines around me
My words flow on the screen
Changed
Changed by a P'tak
My ridges rise
The warrior blood within me boils
My hand reaches for my bat'leth
I see my dagger piercing his dishonorable heart
I scan the region
Nothing for several parsecs
He has to be there, hiding, cowering
He has angered a Klingon
That can only mean his death.
My console shows one and zeroes
Poetry to my consort and my desire to bleed for her
Gone
Sent into nothingness.
I find the villain
The virus he sent to destroy my love
Such an unworthy opponent
Not worth tarnishing the steel of a blade
I find the virus
Twist it, bend it to my will
I send it back to him
A gift from an honored warrior
Within moments he will know my wrath
He will see his computer
Fading dying
Communications
Engineering
Transport
All gone
Finally his air
He turns blue, lungs gasping for another breath
His very life being taken from him
A small virus, nothing more than he sent
Suffering
Painful revenge
Slow lingering death
His soul will not be allowed in Sto-vo-kor
He is, was, not an honored spirit
Poetry by Rob Taylor
Read 744 times
Written on 2007-01-22 at 23:49
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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