The tavern was dark, and stank deeply of hopelessness, spilled beer and lost words.

A few marauders walked in through the swinging doors, looking from right to left, at the sullen patrons, before identifying the bar wench and the tavern owner.

Well what do we have here? What a sorry lot you guys are.

The bright-eyed leader of the marauders cackled, picking out a small crippled man with a twisted spine seated at a table to slap on the back, in a mocking display of joviality.

Cheer up, little guy! We're here as emissaries of the Wordless King, so there isn't anything to worry about!

The leader of this pack of vile bandits, Conroy, his dark eyes searched until they found the proprietor of the establishment. And his daughter, too...

Why hello there, Sir! Looks like business is slow. But me, and my men, we are Emissaries of the Wordless Emperor, so you know what they means. We eat for free... Why don't you send that us over some beer and food? And have that serving wench... bring it over to us...

Conroy and his band of mercenaries eyed the girl hungrily, she must've been in her 20's, but the Tavern owner, meek as he was, wouldn't have it.

No, she is my daughter, please, leave us be...

The tavern owner was weak and old, but he still stood bravely, ready to fight off the Marauders of the Wordless King, despite knowing he would certainly lose his life in the process...

It was then that everyone in the tavern heard the door creak open, as a dark figure entered, and quietly sat down.

Conroy was suddenly distracted, but he looked annoyed more than anything, like his point was foolishly made null by this interloper.

And who the fuck are you? Interrupting my order when we just sat down at this fine establishment?

He pointed to the mysterious stranger, and got up, signalling his men to follow him...

I'm nobody...

The mysterious man, wearing a dark cloak and fedora muttered, seemingly to himself more than anybody else...

Well then, as Emissary of the Wordless King, if you are nobody, I don't think anybody will mind if you die!!!

Conroy and his men all launched at the lonesome man, swords in hand, ready to kill....

And before they had taken another step, the mysterious stranger plucked the quill out from his fedora, and a piece of parchment from the sleeve of his cloak, and began to write.

He wrote, and he wrote quickly, and in a mere moment he was done.

And then he spoke...

It was something nobody in the Empire had heard for over a hundred years... At least, not since the the Wordless King had banned it...

It was a Poem...

And as he deftly spoke the Poem, the power of his elocution, his rhyme scheme, his perfectly apt metaphors....

The band of marauders spasmed in pain, gripping at their ears as blood shot out from them, their eyes tearing up as the Dark Poet spoke of terrifyingly poetic things; Finding a mouse-pup in a Winter Sewer's Drain, The feeling of Never-Worn Socks on your feet during your first day at Rehab, Asking your Step-Father for the first time about the Wife that died before he met your Mother...

The poem was powerful, and concise, killing almost all the marauders with a single stanza...

Only Conroy was left, and he was bleeding badly, barely alive.

Who... Who are you?

The Dark Poet turned to him, setting his quill back into his fedora...

Tell the Wordless King that I have come for him. I won't rest until I have freed this Kingdom, and poetry rings throughout the land.

Conroy nodded weakly, knowing he had to take a message to his master...

But... who- who are you? W-what is this power???

The Dark Poet smiled, if but for a moment...

My name is Gilmore Trent, and I am the Dark Poet who will bring words back to this Kingdom. I have learnt the forbidden power of the 13-syllable Haiku, and I am here to kill your master...