A Land Far Away

Selling out for the sword.

Rejoice my brothers, for it’s the end of the week!
The long day is over, the quartermaster we seek!
Look around the camp, can you see all the smiles?
Today is the day that makes all the mud worthwhile!

Now stand in line, and wait your turn
It takes some time, but that’s no concern!
Rib your friends and ready your boasts
Tonight is the night where we all make the toasts!

Some fight for honor
And I say good on yer
I fight for the gold
To hold me when i’m old

Some fight for a cause
But that’d give me pause
I fight for the shine
To keep me in my wine

So count your coins and ink your thumb!
Tonight’s the night to live like the young!
Silver to spend, and gold to be flowin'
There’s wine to be had, and whores to knowin'!

Some fight for a lord
Who’s never held a sword
I fight for the pay
At the end of every day

Some fight for their gods
But they’re all noble sods
I fight for the gleam
That’s found in a seam

So damn it all, and live for tonight!
Do what feels good, don’t worry if its right!
Laugh the laugh and drink the drink!
Damn it all, try not to think!

Forget your friend who lost his leg
He might have a stump, but at least he’s not dead
Don’t worry about the one who got split in two
Wasn’t his day, but at least it wasn’t you!

Don’t worry about the march you have in the morn!
Think about the whore on the end of your horn!
Don’t think about the battle and meeting your end!
Because... Once more unto the breach my friend!



*Artwork by unknown

Ruby Red Real?

They called her the Red,
With skin so soft it couldn't be real,
Well thats what they said,
But I ne'er knew one who'd gotten a feel

They called her the Red,
She had a great chest of rubies,
Well thats what they said,
But I ne'er knew one who saw her boobies

They called her the Red,
She was always asking for more,
Well thats what they said,
But I ne'er knew one who'd knocked on that door

They called her the Red,
Ruby Red, Ruby Red, Red like a flower,
Well thats what they said,
But I ne'er knew one who'd climbed that tower

They called her the Red,
But she was more more of a copper,
Well thats what they said,
But I ne'er knew one who topped 'er

They called her the Red,
Doubt she's real, or ever be mine,
Well thats what I said,
On second thoughts i'll stick with the wine



*Artwork by Unknown.

Proper Propaganda.

There's been a wrong
The piper must be paid
So here is the song
That precedes the blade

They torment the weak
Ilmater is our guide
To protect the meek
We'll turn back the tide

We'll save them from harm
So keep pressing forward
With Torm in our arm
We'll not be ignored

Now Tyr makes the third
How could we not win
I give you my word
But i'll not give you any sin

Thus doubt is no more
Our conscience can be clear
Sound those horns of war
But don't wipe away the tear...



*Artwork by Unknown.

Poor Parenting.

Wolf and Ana and Pony had tagged onto the back of a merchant caravan heading south out of Baldurs gate. They had waited there for almost a half day in the gate until Wolf spied the caravan passing through. Ana had been trying to teach Pony tricks, but with no success so far. Who could have known that mainland cows had no interest in learning how to “roll over” unlike the dogs in the Moonshaes?

The caravan master had seemed bemused at first as the Gur, his daughter, and their cow followed along, then somewhat annoyed by Wolfs cheerful smile. He made threats which Wolf shrugged off, and eventually settled into a grudging acceptance that there was very little he could do to stop those damn Gur from following so close. He had warned Wolf however that if he even looked at the wagons full of wine casks destined for the Friendly Arm Inn, with any hint of thievery in his eyes the merchant would have no qualms about putting a bolt in their cow. This upset Ana enough that Wolf spent the next few days tormenting the poor merchant by purposefully falling back a few hundred yards... then quietly advancing the cow to just a few dozen yards when the merchant had his gaze on the road ahead.

Ultimately Wolf had Elturel as his destination which lay north... but he wanted to see this grand temple of Selune that had been built along the Lion way. He had little time for organised religion himself, but thought there may be a few Gur pilgrims turned up... and how good would it be to see real Gur again? Not those who had lost their ways in the city, but true Gur who called the highway their home, and knew what it was to truly be free.

As the Friendly Arm Inn loomed its way into view Wolf turned his cheerful smile to the merchant just in front of him. The merchant scowled back demanding to know if Wolf and his caravan of cow and girl would be stopping there. "Aye" was the simple reply. With a gleeful and grim determination that was slightly worrying the merchant declared he drop his cargo, and then travel on back towards the gate into the dusk, if only to be rid of the lot of them. Wolf simply smiled pleasantly in return and resumed his inane rhyming game with Ana, what was a good rhyme for Corwell upon the Moor?

The merchant scowled and muttered.

As they left the impromptu caravan train Wolf led Pony and Ana to the stables at the Friendly Arm Inn. The stable boy had looked at him like he was both unwanted and mad for trying to stable a cow in amongst the horses. A silver coin convinced the stable boy that it was in fact a Pony and should incidentally probably be milked.

Wolf picked up the tired Ana in his arms and carried her inside. “Did you know my father helped build this place?” he asked Ana. She made a drowsy reply into his shoulder. The quickly bonding pair entered the large central keep. The place was every bit as bustling as Wolf had remembered. Waitresses moved to and fro, and patron shuffled from bar to table to jakes to rooms. Wolf rented a room for himself and Ana, and woke her just long enough to let her know he would be downstairs getting news of the road ahead. He stood a moment at the doorway afore he left watching her sleep. He was getting very attached to Ana. More attached than he had intended.

He made his way downstairs with red wine on his mind.

Wolf shuffled his way past suspicious patrons to the bar. He ordered a bottle of wine. Over the top of Bentleys head he saw a familiar head of white hair sprouting over the arm of one of the couches in the corner. Could it be? Wolf took his bottle and slipped through the crowd. It was. Deva. Wolf renewed their friendship of sorts. He hadn’t known her long but judged her a kindred spirit of sorts. Certainly she had a free spirit and love of mischief.

The drank and talked a while, sharing news of their misadventures since they last met on the isles. Eventually one thing led to another which led to a gnome and an ill fated excursion into the woods nearby. Wolf returned with his leather armor in tatters, feeling a certain guilt at having left Ana in the care of the inn and the waitresses. Even more so since both he and Deva had nearly died. He had even failed in his attempt to lift a reward from the rather vocal and affectionate gnome. He wiped his hand over his mouth, the whole thing leaving a sour taste in his mouth.

The next day Wolf had been out looking at the exterior of the keep trying to imagine his father and uncles working here and what it must have looked like so long ago. After a half hour or so he cheerfully made his way back in only to find himself standing between some kind of demonic horror and a band of adventurers including Deva. This was all too much for Wolf. It seemed a Gur couldn’t go for a walk without half the worlds troubles seeking him out. Could it be he was the victim of two curses? Had beshaba spat on him recently?

He quickly crouched low and circled around the bunch with a quiet moan of terror... Ana! Wolf headed for the stairs as the Demon thing and the adventurers exchanged threats and promises of incredible violence. Wolf gained the sanctuary of his room and scooped Ana into his arms again. “Close you eyes and don’t open them until I tell you, oh, and put your fingers in your ears, i’m taking you to a surprise, allright?” Wolf said in a slightly shaking voice. Ana nodded happily.

Wolf hustled his way down the stairs pushing doors open with his feet. He quickly scanned the taproom, but made eye contact with no one, not wanting to be drawn into whatever horror was about to happen here. He circled around the edge of the great room as patrons cowered and cried. He whispered a emphatic “Good Luck” to Deva as he brushed past, and "Damned if I like your choices in Patrons" to a cowering Waiter before slyly slinking out to the stable.

Wolf leaned down and spoke to the stable boy who was mucking out the stabled with a square faced shovel. “Boy, there is a demon in the bar, Bently is down, fetch his wife, go, now!”. The poor boy stood in shock for a moment before Wolf levelled a kick at his rear. The boy scarpered. Wolf set Ana down and told her she could open her eyes but to stay quiet. He quickly haltered and saddled a piebald horse before lifting her into place. He mounted as well, and put his heels gently to it’s flank.

Outside the guards were beginning to organise themselves under the firm instructions of Bentleys wife. No one paid any attention to the man and his daughter riding calmly away from the inn.

Some days up the road back towards the Gate, Ana asked him about what that thing was in the Inn she had seen when she peeked. Wolf sat and thought about that for a long time before answering honestly. “I’m not really sure, but I know it was bad”. They rode in silence for a long time, Ana demading they stop every now and then to pick flowers to weave into Pony's mane. Ana eventually declared this was a far superior Pony to the last one.

Wolf agreed with a smile. By mutual agreement they spurred the horse into a gentle canter as a familiar wagon came into view.



*Artwork by Unknown.

Oooo!

Oooo! I'm so proud to be a lute playing man
You'll oft find me with a lute in my hand
There's nothing like playing strings for smiles
Collecting silver luckies all of the while

Oooo! And on the morrow i'll be a travellin' man
Bringing joyful songs all over the land!

Oooo! I'm so proud to be a card playing man
Sitting across the table with cards in a fan
Flirting with Tymora and risking it all
The gods love a player, but she loves a fool

Oooo! And on the morrow i'll be a travellin' man
Bringing her good luck all over the land!

Oooo! I'm so proud to be a wine drinking man
White, blush, or cooking, but reds in demand!
So much happiness to be found in the vine
Even more so when your days been in decline

Oooo! And on the morrow i'll be a travellin' man
Bringing numbed lips all over the land!

Oooo! I'm so proud to be a gods fearing man
If I pick a side, it's with the gods that I stand
Tipple for Tymora, Silver for Selune
Gur are the stars that follow her moon

Oooo! And on the morrow i'll be a travellin' man
Bringing silvered prayers all over the land!

Oooo! I'm so proud to be a love making man
Spreading blushes and flushes where'er I can!
True love is a marvel, fun love is a game
To know love with the Wolf, just call out his name!

Oooo! And on the morrow i'll be a travellin' man
Bringing secret smiles all over the land!

Oooo! I'm so proud to be a sun loving man
No need for a shirt when you've this kind of tan
Bright eyes and brown skin, thats the way of my kin
Our hearts are warmed by the sun on our skin

Oooo! And on the morrow i'll be a travellin' man
Bringing dark handsome all over the land!

Oooo! Im so proud...
Oooo! Im so proud to...
Oooo! Im so proud to be...
Oooo! Im so proud to be a...

Travelin' maaaaaaaaaaaannnnn



*Artwork by Eric Belisle (cropped, close up).

One door opens, and one chapter closes.

Wolf stood outside his father door. Finally he had made it to Elturel. He had left Ana just outside the squalid rooms playing with the other children in the muddy street. He was suddenly nervous. He had been away so long, so much had changed now. His father would still be the same as ever.

Now he actually had to think?

Wolf leant against the door frame. He knew his father still lived here. Nailed above the door frame was a slightly faded red rag that marked this as a Gur dwelling. His father would hold court here, resolve disputes, bed widows and so on and so forth. From inside came the sounds of his fathers fiddle.

He reached over his shoulder and plucked at a lute string. There was a pause then a coughing and shuffling noise from inside the door. Wolf gently knocked, and slowly opened the door. His father was inside sitting on his small bed. Gods, it was good to see him. The greeting Wolf had been preparing caught in his throat. Two steps and he had his father in his arms. Two breaths and they were both in tears, Wolf lost in the trauma of all that had happened in the year he had been away, his father lost in Wolfs sobs. They simply held each other, unashamed of the emotion. After a long moment Wolfs shoulders stopped heaving as he let go of the pain he had been holding for so long.

Eris patted and rubbed him on the back.

“It’s good to see you again” Wolf said with a choked half laugh.

“You have an odd way of showing it” replied Eris with tears in his own eyes. He led Wolf over to the bed, the only place to sit in the small room. They sat and held hands, and Wolf told him all that had happened in the last year, completely and honestly, leaving nothing out, even things he was ashamed of. The places he had seen, the friends he had made, the adventures he had, the fortunes and loves he had known and lost. And the bad, the violence, the deaths, what it was like to be stabbed in the guts, the man he had killed to save his own life, and his curse.

Despite himself Eris pulled back from Wolf when he heard of the curse. That hurt Wolf more than anything else, though he tried to hide it. They both sat uncomfortable before Eris took wolfs hand again. Gods, when did his father start looking so old?

“Did you throw salt over your shoulder under the new moon?” asked Eris after a long moment. Wolf nodded. Eris frowned. “And that still didn’t remove the curse?”

“I even mixed my blood with silver, cracked an egg underneath my bed, and sacrificed a goat” Wolf replied. Powerful magicks indeed! “This necklace is the only thing that keeps me alive”. Wolf touched one finger to the locket at his neck. Inside was the smallest bone chip from Binlinas knife, and a lock of hair from Volgara. “Every day it removes the curse... and every day the curse renews itself... the first half a day is fine. The second half it creeps upon me. Like a cramp in the guts. But i know what it is! It’s the...” Wolf fell silent as he saw the horror in his fathers eyes. He was hurting him by telling him. “It’s not that bad” Wolf lied.

He gripped the locket in his hands and let the magic healing flow, not into his own body, but into his fathers. Eris tried to jerk his hand free but Wolf held it tight, long enough to heal any ailments his father had been carrying.

“You were sick, weren’t you Pap?” Wolf said accusingly. Eris closed his eyes then nodded. He then leant forward and reached under the bed, bringing up a rag that was spotted with brown stains of crust.

“Consumption” his father said simply, naming the awful disease. Wolf felt his eyes tear up again. Why couldn’t things ever just stay as they were? He wasn’t ready to see his father get old.

“You’re better now, i’ll pay for it over the next day, but you’re better”. Eris slumped forwards, burying his head in his hands. Wolf wrapped his arms around his father and kissed the back of his head.

“Thankyou” came the muffled response.

Eventually his father sat up again, and they talked at length of how Wolf could cure himself. It would be a grim business to gather enough gold and support to do so, but Wolf swore himself to do what was needed, pricking his hand and letting blood fall onto a silver coin. He swore not just for his own sake, but for his father, for Ana, for his future children, for the memory of his wife and child, and for his people.

“Can I leave Ana with you until I see this done?”

Eris nodded and so it was done.

After saying emotional goodbyes to his father and Ana, he stood looking towards the spires of Elturel, the reins of Pony in his hand. A chapter had just been closed on one part of his life.

The next chapter... there was little doubt that it would be a grim one.



*Artwork by Linda dash

The Cursed One(s).

Wolf was back in the Red Stag on the Moonshaes. Back in the same seat he had been in but a few months ago when he first saw Vieka. All around him the same familiar faces. The same patrons, the same whores. All looking a little more drawn, a little older. He expected he did as well. Already he had waved away the empty greetings and freindly faces. He sat with his elbows on the table, his face down in his hands.

Remembering.

The outskirts of the Cloakwood. A clearing. A girl.

Diaan.

Gods, how frail she was. Shoulders stooped, as his had been. Her head shaven and barely stubbled, as his had been. Haunted dreams, as his had been. She lived under a terrible terrible curse and knew despair, as he did. She dreamed of sweet release, and who was he to deny her?

To meet her gods on her terms? To be able to stand proud and say she had chosen death while in control rather than becoming lost in her curse?

When Wolf had told her that he too lay under a curse he could visibly see her begin to unburden herself. Aye, he knew all too well of her pain. How often had he thought of ending himself? All too often, yet unlike him, she did not lack the courage. She told him her story and hugged him, meeting his eyes for the first time. He kissed her forehead and led her by the hand deeper into the forest. In a clearing they embraced again, then knelt. Wolf rolled up his sleeves, drew his silvered knife, then pulled her gently back against his chest, kissing her cheek. She did not shiver or flinch, even when he kissed his knife and brought it around in front of her.

“Neck or heart?”

“Heart”

He should have known, after all it was in her heart that the curse had started, now here it would be ended. He pulled her even closer to him and moved his free hand up her ribs finding just the right spot for his knife. He held it gently in place, before offering a prayer to Selune.

There was a thump at his table startling him out of the memory. One of the whores had sent a bottle of red wine his way. Wolf forced a smile of thanks and poured himself a mug. Life was not getting any easier. He would sail again on the morning tide all things going to plan. He drained the mug and quickly poured himself another. Tonight would see a burial on the beach under the light of Selune. It is what he had promised her. He kissed the ring on his finger and drained the second mug. It was a good drop to be sure. One thing that could be said for the isles, they grew good grapes.

“Wolf, play us a song!” someone shouted. He was about to plead tiredness when he saw it was the whore who had brought the wine for him. One of Mediras friends. He lifted a hand for a moments peace, yet more cries went up for “The Ffolk Song”. He was getting very tired of that song, cursed place that the isles were. He lifted the wine and drank straight from the bottle. A muted cheer went up from the tavern as he shakily placed the bottle down and made his way to the centre of the tap room. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand left a red stain there.

Inwardly he cringed.

He slid the lute from his back to his fore ignoring the very pre-mature cries of “We are the Ffolk!”. Nay, he had another song on his mind tonight.

Raising the lute to his lips, he kissed it as he had kissed his Diaana’s cheek and the silvered knife that ended her. With love.

The lute resonated in his hands as though feeling something within Wolf. He sang, simply.

It hurts too much I can’t go on
Then go dearest, i’ll sing the song

I hear the voices in my dreams
I know them well, i’ve heard their screams

You cannot know this awful voice
Then I do know you have a choice

There’s no going back, i cannot mend
Then gods help me, i’ll help you end

All I want is to be at peace
I know your pain, i’ll see it cease

Bury me on the isles, in the sands
I’ll see it done with my own hands

I am ready now, do not feel guilt
I am ready now, I hold the hilt

Diaan
Diaan!
I saw me in your eyes
You held your truth, I held my lies

Diaan
Diaan!
You kept your truths and asked for the knife
I am now false and helped end your life

Diaan
Diaan!
Be at rest, it is all done
You are no longer broken, but mended as one

The normally busy tap room had slowed into a respectful silence for the song. Wolf looked around. One whore had tears in her eyes. The song perhaps held meaning for her. As the din started to build again some anonymous wit from the tables in the back called out "And we are the Ffolk!". Wolf calmly walked over and picked up the empty wine bottle. Equally as calmly he walked over to where the voice had come from. Patrons parted, and the mans friends moved shuffled away from their loud mouthed friend. The man, perhaps wisely recognising something in Wolfs demeanour darted for the door. Wolf hurled the bottle after him, but missed. The bottle hit a wall and shattered noisily and the man made his escape.

Wordlessly Wolf reached into his pocket for a silver coin and tossed it to towards the bar. The tap room was deathly quiet.

He left to bury a tortured soul on the beach under the light of Selune.



*Artwork by S Stevens

Thank you Rumple this is really great and more than I imagined; I really enjoyed the rp too. A sad but nice ending to a character I really enjoyed, thank you for helping to make it enjoyable rp.

Flattery gets you everywhere?

Chilling visage, and freezing maw
Bitter cold, fuelling winters hoar
Cruel as snow, with heart of ice
Frozen blood, and lusting arvice
Fear the breath, and flee the bite
Be wary of, the hidden White

Waiting beneath, the swamps edge
Nested lair, and wizards hedge
Serpent neck, and melting breath
Spitting out, agonising death
Alas water, leaves no track
No warning of, the soulless Black

Forest rulers, and ancient kings
All must fear, what this giant brings
They fight to live, and live to fight
Spilling blood, and testing might
Natures marvel, which must be seen
Natures marvel, the verdant Green

The fires rage, the world aflame
The oldest one, the oldest game
Coals for eyes, and breathing fire
Heat and ash, lazily lifts them higher
All who fight will soon be dead
For none can match the peerless Red

Sapphire eyes, and curved horn
Poets gush, and wise men warn
The greatest foes, and greatest mages
Ancient wisdom, and ancient sages
The last of them all, the last of the hue
The lightning strike, the beautiful Blue



*Artwork by Kategod

The start of the end.

The winter wind was bitterly cold as it blew across the Highmoor. Wolf was bundled in furs and his face was wrapped with a long scarf. All that were exposed were his eyes, which stung. He had considered stopping earlier in the night but knew himself close, lest he was lost. Aye, close to the shore of the Highstar lake... lest he was lost. How many times had he looked to the heavens during the night? Countless, untold.

Always was she there watching. Trailing behind Selune. As he did. And his daughter too. They were his guide tonight... But which stars were they? There was no way to say for sure. One day he would join them. But not tonight. And not if the soul worm got him first. Wolf thought of the necklace which keeps the curse at bay, banishing it daily, granting him a temporary respite from agonising death. And worse. He had no idea what would happen to his soul if he died to the curse. Would he be dragged to one of the hells, would he even have a soul? No priest knew for sure.

There was a moment panic as he couldn’t feel the necklace against his skin. Wolf mashed a hand into his furs trying to check it was there by dragging it over his skin... no!...yes...

He heaved a sigh of relief. If he lost it out here... days from anyone or anywhere... it may well have been the end of him. There was only one sure way to be rid of the curse. And only through great risk.

Wolf jerked awake as he started to fall sideways out of his saddle. He had drifted into a slumber. His horse whinnied as he hauled himself straight again, pushing one of his heels into the horse flank. It started to circle before he reined it in. Poor thing. He leant forward and rubbed its neck.

“Sorry girl, truly”.

He lifted his gaze up again, and realigned them both. It could not be far now, afore they found the edge of the lake. Aye... not long. He let his mind drift back in time...

To laughter and sunshine. Kisses and blisses. A wife and a daughter that loved him for him.

He closed his eyes to hold in the tears lest they freeze and gave the horse free rein.

When he opened them... it was morning and he was slumped forward in the saddle... still upright. A true gur of the highways to be sure.

Before him stretched a lake.

And...gods... his back was killing him. Sleeping in the saddle was the game of a young man.

And it looked like his horse had already watered and fed itself... truly he had stolen the best of the bunch from the friendly arm inn. With a groan he lifted himself off the horse and hobbled to the lakes edge. His legs and arse pained him in protest as he crouched and slowly lowered his head into the water, shocking himself into painful awareness.

The water was frigid but it reaffirmed he was still alive... which reminded him. He willed his necklace to work with a single word “Binlina”. He guts roiled as the burrowing and growing spirit worm was banished from his body... and returned as a grub almost instantly.

Idly he wondered if it was possible to cut the thing out.

Wolf stood, and lifted the horses face to his own. He kissed it once on the forehead and dabbed a little water behind its ears in the fashion of the gur. He apologised as he mounted again, and steered them west, his destination... the other side of the lake where once every turn of the wheel the Gur would assemble. There was no gathering this year, or for another three in fact. It was not people he sought, it was the place, and the memories it held.

Days passed as they followed the lakes edge. There was no lack of water, or forage for his horse, but Wolf kept a careful eye on his own food. He had enough for the trip, and a little extra in case he became lost but not enough he could afford to be careless. He saw a few rabbits and imagined himself shooting one down with a bow. Alas he had neither bow, nor arrow, nor the ability to hit a rabbit with one. He daydreamed of bolts of magic, or catching them with a giant hand... or magicking up a rabbit out of his bandana. Alas... all he had was small throwing knives and a slowly dwindling supply of food.

Eventually he made the great fields where the gur camped. It had been a few years since they were last here, but the land showed where they had made it their own. Old crates, broken wagon wheels, tattered rags, piles of goat bones. Aye... the garbage that was normally just part of the people... but with no people... it was almost sad. It hinted at lift that was here... but now was just the debris and filth that marked where it was. Wolf found himself drawing uncomfortable parallels to his own body. He shuddered and moved on.

North... into the south wood. It was different now. The trees smaller than he remembered. He slowly steered his horse deeper into the woods. Here and there stray faded rags marked where Gur had been. Showing the woods were safe here... so many years ago. Where was it...?

He wound his way deeper and deeper into the forest... looking for a particular track and a particular clearing.

And failed. He was no woodsman, that was for sure. Eventually he despaired of finding the spot where he had first lain with Binlina. He instead settled for a gap in the trees. He dismounted, tying the reins to a branch, let the horse graze at small ferns. He sat for a long moment on a fallen tree, brushing away small inquisitive insects which crawled towards him. This... was it.

He would wait now, already light was fading. Selune would soon arc her way across the heavens in her never ending journey. Behind her would ride Binlina and Volgara. Now of the celestial caravan. They would be looking down upon him. He closed his eyes and turned his face away from the skies.

Saying goodbye was never easy.

Slowly he took an small parchment from his pocket, no larger than the space between two knuckles. He kissed it, and rubbed it on a silver coin for good luck. It held a simple message he had agonised over for weeks.

“Binlina, Volgara. Know I will join you, but I must travel in darkness to do so. Turn your faces from me, for I cannot bear the shame of you seeing me become false. Know I love you both more than life itself, which is why I do what I do. Your husband and father, Wolf”.

Slowly from a deeper hidden pocket he unpinned a small silver figurine of a bird. It had been on Diaans body. Already had he betrayed the trust of one shade by not burying her with it. He kissed it on the forehead, as he had done with Diaan, and slowly whispered the word that would bring it to life. He watched in awe as it slowly unfurls its tiny wings and cocked its head inquisitively at him. With shaking hands he tied the note to one of its legs.

“Take this to Binlina or Volgara or Selune herself if you cannot find them... up there” Wolf pointed up at the night sky, and Selune who was just coming into view. There was a flutter and the barest hint of air in his hand as the silver bird fluttered to the sky. Within a minute it was lost to sight against the clouds and stars.

“Fair weather” he simply spoke with the eternal farewell of the Gur.

That night he slept uneasily in the clearing, waking often with nightmares of the bird being caught by hawks, or become solid silver again, or being unable to reach Selune and her caravan. He woke feeling awful, and despondently made his way out of the Southwood.

He had no way of knowing if they would get his message, so he followed it up with a prayer as he rode, plucking a song Binlina and Volgara had both been fond of, in case they were listening.

Binlina my lover
Vologara my love

There is but one path before me
Which I must ride in the night
I must move in the shadows
Cast from your light

Turn your face
Look away!
Damn you both
Turn your face!

Know that always
You are both in my heart
Know i’ll do anything
So one day we’ll ne’er be apart

Turn your face
Look away!
Damn it all
Turn your face!

Farewell, for now.

Gather round, and listen ye well
For i’m the best bard, and that’s the story i’ll tell
Aye, I’m Wolf Vard, Gur of the heartlands
Known for my smart mouth and smart hands

Your probably thinking, who is this youth?
Why I am a Wolf, and that is the truth!
Aye, from my lips, every word is true
No lies tonight, that I promise you

You see my friends, I suffer from a curse
Which forces truth in every verse
Were I to mislead it would strike me down
And the women would wail in every town

I was born when the stars were in align
The bones were cast and I was proclaimed divine
Divine you say, blasphemy!, he must be wrong
Nay, for tonight i’m god of this lute and god of this song

I don’t want this to sound like i’m bragging
It’s my raw talent that sets tails wagging
Aye, it’s my talented fingers and tongue
And raw bravado, the curse of the young

My fingers fly like a majestic eagle on the wing
I’ll close my eyes and still hit every string
My voice soars like that same eagle flying high
People listen with awe, and it’s Wolf that they cry

Oh, and modesty also a gift that I show
Aye, I’m the most modest person I know!
Hah, enough of the jests afore you give me the boot
I’m just an uncommon man with an uncommon lute

I play out of love, aye, love in my chest
I don’t really care if I was the best
As long as I left you all with a smile and a cheer
Aye, that’s about all that I really care

It has been a absolute pleasure to play for you all
And at the end of this, remember whose name to call
Remember the Wolf for his gift with tongue, wit, and strings
Aye, remember the Wolf for these very things



*Artwork by Twin Axes (our very own).

Unfinished songs...

Moonshae Isles, the travellers lure
An innocent to the wonder, still yet pure
And some god laughed as right became wrong
And the innocent cried and sung out this song

Why, damn you, why, I was still so young
So many songs still yet to be sung
I asked my fortune, and was spat on instead
Now a fortune to lift, else the worms ‘ill be fed

My heart is heavy but less so than my knife
I want to be good, but this is my life
And so we watched innocence fade
And so it was that the Bard knew the blade

Shed a tear for innocence lost
The gods jest, and we pay the cost

...

Whoa, hey, I got something to say!
You get me wild, in every way!
Your hips are like a mel-o-dy
And your laugh really plea-ses-me

...

Listen ye well
Friends and strangers
For I warn of many
Dares and dangers

These lands of ours
Wild and free
Full of biters and blighters
And opportunity

The way to prosper
And stay alive
Is to know the gods
In their name we strive
So raise a toast
And raise it high
And toast the gods
For the gods are wise

The gods, the gods!
Hear our prayers
Know our love
And know our fears
Remember the time
That was mighty queer
Gods walked the land
Or had disappeared

Up became down
And right became wrong
In become out
And speech became song

But now they’re back
We’ve seen their faces
We know they’re real
We’ve seen their graces

"Evenin', folks..."

I murmured, then I coughed, a hearty, throaty cough, and looked at the faces gathered around me. Their faces were all bleak. Their cheeks were sunken, no one was smilin'. Neither was I. My eyes were bloodshot, I haven't gotten any sleep in ages. They were still broken glass on the floor, and the scent of death still lingered in the room. I suppose the priest did a shite job with that... I wanted to put on a show tonight. No, no... Not because I wanted to. Because I had to. Performing on that stage is the only thing that keeps my sanity.

I look back to all my companions, all the people I've sung for... All my lovers, all my adventures... The Isles, the Gate, the grand ol' times I've had. The Sword and Shield, was that the name of that tavern in the Gate? I was something, there. Everyone knew my name, I was the famous Gur bard! But... I figured... I needed someplace to lay low. Someplace to live without being bothered. So I came down here. I'm very well known here, as well. The people look up to me. They adore me. I can't help but smile... I look up to them, myself. I adore them, myself. I'm honored to share my songs to them, to ease their hardships, if only for a little bit. But...

But... Everything changed when he came in here. Curse him... CURSE HIM! My hatred for his family's name may be irrational... No, it is not irrational. There is no justification for his brother's atrocities. Sylvaine is a fool. She thinks we need a priest for him, to cure him. He's a cancer to this region. You don't treat a cancer by healing it. You kill that cancer, you stop that cancer from spreading. And that is what we must do. Kill him. Not sympathize with him. If Sylvaine can't see that, to hell with her! I can do it myself.

The townsfolk are terrified of him. They're terrified on what he will do to their homes. They've seen the destruction he's paved... Refugees still flock over here, with heavy tales, and swollen eyes. They look at me, and I try my best to ease their fears... But, they do nothing for my own fears. So much death, I can't stand it. I don't feel alive anymore, there's this hole in my chest that I need to take care of, now.

I've been preparing for days, and days, and days. I haven't seen Sylvaine at all during that period. Good. I don't want to look at her face right now, it'll make me sick to the stomach. If my plan works... No, when my plan works... Then...

Then...

...

Letter wrote:"I look forward to meeting you, your highness!"
-Wolf Vard

((I have Rumple's permission to do this, by the way. Whether or not you like this portrayal of Wolf please let me know before I embarrass Rumple, and myself, even further.))