Roving Entertainment Group of Ruith

Member created stories, poems, & other creative work.
Ladellon
Dire Badger
Posts: 155
Joined: Tue Jan 13, 2004 1:24 am
Location: just north of Leadfeather

Re: Roving Entertainment Group of Ruith

Post by Ladellon »

Inspired by a bedroom's color scheme, The Knight In Chartreuse Tour has come to an end, returning Begor from Sundabar and performances at the Firestar Chariot, Malshyan's House and Baldivers.


The Knight In Chartreuse

One eve a young lass returned home late from town -
Having just purchased a new, teal satin gown -
When, as she approached the bridge over a stream,
A horrendous roar made her startle and scream.

A gnarled, black troll, striding forth, shook his head
And, facing the lass, with a raspy voice said:
“this bridge is now mine and you must pay a toll
And if you should fail I shall eat you up whole.”

The lass gripped her dress, pondering her grave state,
And thought to herself, ‘I’ll end up on his plate
If a chivalrous someone does not intervene.’
Then appeared round the bend a knight dressed in green.

“Fear not,” he declared as he rode toward the beast,
“You’ll not be the main course of this cretin’s feast.
You see, his demeanor has no verity
I’ll pierce his façade with a sharp repartee.”

The troll stomped his feet as the knight drew up near,
Unintimidated and showing no fear.
He beat on the ground and uprooted a spruce
And glared at the knight full arrayed in chartreuse.

“I’ll make you the main course once I’ve eaten her,”
He growled as the knight replied, “Sir, I demur.”
The troll scratched his head as knight then expounded,
“I’ll say where you’re wrong and leave you astounded.”

“The toll for bridge passage is not coins of gold.
That method’s old-fashioned or so I am told.
Today you must challenge the mind, not the purse
And offer a riddle that’s relayed in verse.

“As an example so you see what I mean –
What’s red, or at times, even yellow or green?”
And while the troll struggled to figure it out
The knight cried, “An apple! You’re naught but a lout!”

“Begone with you now, you’re not fit to secure
This bridge or this road for you’re too immature.”
With that the troll sulked away, head hanging low,
And never again was he seen near the flow.

The lass who had witnessed the troll’s swift defeat
Entreated the knight (and she wasn’t discreet).
“I owe you my life, you can do what you will.
I’ll put on this dress and I’ll give you a thrill.”

The knight waved his hand and responded with tact,
“It’s not for the fair, young lasses I attract
That I go around seeking cads to put down.
I do it to bolster my public renown.”

“You see, I’m a playwright and sales have been slow.
I not only act, but promote every show.
So, if you have time here’s two tickets to use.
Come see the debut of the Knight in Chartreuse.”

As he rode away, leaving lass with a frown,
She sudden recalled her new, teal satin gown
And, clutching the tickets to the matinee,
Beamed, “I’ll be quite stunning attending the play.”

The story’s not over for that would be grim.
The knight fell for her and the lass fell for him.
Together they toured round the country with zeal
Performing a new show – the Fair Maid in Teal.
Last edited by Ladellon on Sun Oct 25, 2020 6:30 am, edited 1 time in total.
Final PC: Regor the Valorious, the ONLY theatrically-inclined half-orc androgyne wandering ALFA, Artistic Director for Cormanthor Stage Productions, one-time stand up pirate and self-educated barrister of the bar.

Former PC: Begor Nightstrummer, Executive Stage Writer and Assistant Director of Planned Gifts for the Roving Entertainment Group of Ruith

Current PC: Sheshe Little Eels
Ladellon
Dire Badger
Posts: 155
Joined: Tue Jan 13, 2004 1:24 am
Location: just north of Leadfeather

Re: Roving Entertainment Group of Ruith

Post by Ladellon »

Will I Be Missed? (an ode to Begor's death and those who brought him back)

A goblin, hid within the trees,
Was musing on his troubled fate
For he could not abate
The stream of heroes in their armored plate
Who, when questing, would eradicate
Him and his motley pillagers
For the slightest of offenses:
the tearing down of fences
And slaughtering of all the sheep belonging to the villagers.

I can’t resist the coming dread
Will I be missed, becoming dead?
Depends upon the narrative believed.
If some do-gooder could, instead, be deceived
Into thinking I am misperceived.
In truth I struggle to subsist
My aim is but to coexist.
And, gaining that delusion, when I’m gone my conclusion is . . .
I’ll be missed.

A coffin’s lid was pushed aside,
Undead from within exposing,
Decaying and decomposing,
It, struggling, arose and began to posing
How to confront the thieves now imposing
On unsullied tombs and crypts
For the chance of golden rings,
Silver coins, bejeweled things,
A spell-infused heirloom, or some ancient manuscripts.

It thought, while staggering ahead,
Will I be missed, already dead?
Depends upon the point of view expressed.
The intrusion of these uninvited guests
Have revived a score of other souls, distressed,
Whose symphonious narration:
“comes now their total decimation,”
Brought a putrid, toothless smile, demonstrating all the while that . . .
I’ll be missed.

A minstrel traveling on the road,
And come upon a gross atrocity
Ignoring his comrade’s paucity
And, succumbing to curiosity,
Charged after the monstrosities,
Intending to exact a retaliation.
There could be no sly retreat
Else the hills would be replete
With endless, blood-thirsty hordes bringing total decimation.

The final thought, within his head -
Will I be missed when I lay dead?
In the fugue plane his final role
Could be to convene and condole
The wandering and meandering souls.
But his time in death was abbreviated
As he felt his body reincarnated.
A new beginning not the end, he sighed amongst his gathered friends . . .
I was missed.
Last edited by Ladellon on Sat Sep 26, 2020 11:52 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Final PC: Regor the Valorious, the ONLY theatrically-inclined half-orc androgyne wandering ALFA, Artistic Director for Cormanthor Stage Productions, one-time stand up pirate and self-educated barrister of the bar.

Former PC: Begor Nightstrummer, Executive Stage Writer and Assistant Director of Planned Gifts for the Roving Entertainment Group of Ruith

Current PC: Sheshe Little Eels
Ladellon
Dire Badger
Posts: 155
Joined: Tue Jan 13, 2004 1:24 am
Location: just north of Leadfeather

Re: Roving Entertainment Group of Ruith

Post by Ladellon »

Ghostly Bear of Beregost

There is no doubt you’ll hear the tale
While taking rest and drinking ale
At any inn along the coast
Of the ghostly bear of Beregost.

Once the companion of a bard,
By dragon’s fire just he was charred,
The lord escaped and took to boast
Of the ghostly bear of Beregost.

You’ll spot him in the market square
Or Burning Wizard – he’ll be there.
The Red Sheaf’s also served as host
To the ghostly bear of Beregost.

Don’t turn away at sup, you’ll learn
It’s for provisions he does yearn.
He’ll drink your wine and eat your roast
The ghostly bear of Beregost.

A spirit should affright but yet
This one will flee without regret
Whenever danger looms the most –
The ghostly bear of Beregost.

Without him there would be no cheer
The ambiance would be austere,
So lift your cups and join this toast
To the ghostly bear of Beregost.
Final PC: Regor the Valorious, the ONLY theatrically-inclined half-orc androgyne wandering ALFA, Artistic Director for Cormanthor Stage Productions, one-time stand up pirate and self-educated barrister of the bar.

Former PC: Begor Nightstrummer, Executive Stage Writer and Assistant Director of Planned Gifts for the Roving Entertainment Group of Ruith

Current PC: Sheshe Little Eels
Ladellon
Dire Badger
Posts: 155
Joined: Tue Jan 13, 2004 1:24 am
Location: just north of Leadfeather

Re: Roving Entertainment Group of Ruith

Post by Ladellon »

Red Headed Wenches

I present now the ladies of Silverymoon,
It’s said that they make lovely wives.
But be certain to check all their clothing with care
For ‘tis said that they all carry knives!

Behold now the ladies of Silverymoon,
Some are dark as the night, some are fair.
But if you would choose from the maids you peruse,
Beware of the lasses with flame-colored hair!

So, love you those red headed wenches.
Hold your chin up, there’s no need for shame.
If their tresses are red and you hie them to bed
Then, my lad, you’ll never be the same!
If it’s red headed wenches you claim!

So if you seek red headed wenches to bed
A word to the wise, give a pause.
Be you good knight or don, pray leave your armor on
For red headed wenches are known to have claws.

And if you seek red headed wenches to tame
And think that you’ll bring them to hand,
More’s the pity, you fool, ‘tis the lass who will rule,
On the morrow ‘tis certain that you’ll wear her brand.

So, love you those red headed wenches.
Hold your chin up, there’s no need for shame.
If their tresses are red and you hie them to bed
Then, my lad, you’ll never be the same!
If it’s red headed wenches you claim!

Now some say the palest of flaxen haired maids
Did come from the angels on high.
And they say the lass with the raven black hair
Came form the dark, midnight sky.

They say that the lass with the hair of rich brown
From earth’s fertile bosom did grow.
But on this they agree, that each redhead you see . . .
Was spawned from the fires of Hell down below!

So, love you those red headed wenches.
Hold your chin up, there’s no need for shame.
If their tresses are red and you hie them to bed
Then, my lad, you’ll never be the same!
If it’s red headed wenches you claim!
Final PC: Regor the Valorious, the ONLY theatrically-inclined half-orc androgyne wandering ALFA, Artistic Director for Cormanthor Stage Productions, one-time stand up pirate and self-educated barrister of the bar.

Former PC: Begor Nightstrummer, Executive Stage Writer and Assistant Director of Planned Gifts for the Roving Entertainment Group of Ruith

Current PC: Sheshe Little Eels
Ladellon
Dire Badger
Posts: 155
Joined: Tue Jan 13, 2004 1:24 am
Location: just north of Leadfeather

Re: Roving Entertainment Group of Ruith

Post by Ladellon »

Sung in the fey caverns to a petulant miscreant and his ugly pet rock. The sequel is coming . . . Where Went All His Toes?

Tenebrion Twenty Toes

It happened on a star filled night
To halt his soldiers taking flight.
A noble-blooded woodland sprite
Promoted one to save their plight.

The chosen leader eyed his crew,
Ignoring smirks from quite a few,
And, barking orders so they knew,
He led them forth to hack and hew.

For those ahead be filled with dread
His horn will sound and wake the dead.
The fey King’s army now is led . . .
By Tenebrion Twenty Toes!

In triumph he did lead the horde
With arcane might and whetted sword,
So none grew fat and none grew bored
And that is why he is adored.

Now grander than an earl or thane
In reclusion he does now remain
Yet all recount in sly refrain –
That gallant fey of evil’s bane.

For those ahead be filled with dread
His horn will sound and wake the dead.
The fey King’s army now is led . . .
By Tenebrion Twenty Toes!
Final PC: Regor the Valorious, the ONLY theatrically-inclined half-orc androgyne wandering ALFA, Artistic Director for Cormanthor Stage Productions, one-time stand up pirate and self-educated barrister of the bar.

Former PC: Begor Nightstrummer, Executive Stage Writer and Assistant Director of Planned Gifts for the Roving Entertainment Group of Ruith

Current PC: Sheshe Little Eels
Ladellon
Dire Badger
Posts: 155
Joined: Tue Jan 13, 2004 1:24 am
Location: just north of Leadfeather

Re: Roving Entertainment Group of Ruith

Post by Ladellon »

An especially popular tune in the Silverymoon taverns of late.

The Hopeful Mediator

The doors flew open wide, a rider burst inside
And, staggering, he shouted out dismay.
“My town of Perry’s Mound, they’ve raised it to the ground!
An orc horde now is traveling this way.”

To halt the coming raid, a battle plan was made
Of how to make each invader quite dead.
Then someone in the back said, “Instead of an attack,
I wonder, could we talk with them instead?”

Though speaker quite implored, his odd thought was ignored,
The angered men surged forth to meet their fate
And in a sallowed field, with iron sword and shield,
Prepared their enemy to decimate.

As the battle commenced, from the rear was dispensed
A notion, as the men were filled with dread –
Their line was clearly failing, but still they heard him wailing,
“I wonder, could we talk with them instead?”

The orcs had won the day and bore captives away,
Including the lone hopeful mediator,
Who now with fellow crew was intended for a stew
For the victorious infiltrators.

In annals t’was recorded that despite the many sordid
deeds the orcs wreaked on both living and dead,
The mediator stated, before his head was plated,
“I wonder, could we talk with them instead?”
Final PC: Regor the Valorious, the ONLY theatrically-inclined half-orc androgyne wandering ALFA, Artistic Director for Cormanthor Stage Productions, one-time stand up pirate and self-educated barrister of the bar.

Former PC: Begor Nightstrummer, Executive Stage Writer and Assistant Director of Planned Gifts for the Roving Entertainment Group of Ruith

Current PC: Sheshe Little Eels
Ladellon
Dire Badger
Posts: 155
Joined: Tue Jan 13, 2004 1:24 am
Location: just north of Leadfeather

Re: Roving Entertainment Group of Ruith

Post by Ladellon »

Sung about Silverymoon. At least a few people think it will be the death of the bard if the wrong individual hears of it. Someone in the crowd was clearly heard to say, "Oh, he'll kill you if he ever hears you sing that."


The Many Toes of Tenebrion

I’ll sing the tale, sit back, repose,
Of Tenebrion Twenty-Toes

Attacked by one too many foes
Was Tenebrion Nineteen-Toes.

Got in the way of dagger throws
Did Tenebrion Eighteen-Toes

In mountains cold, a pinky froze
On Tenebrion Seventeen-Toes.

A beetle’s pincers – “What are those?”
Cried Tenebrion Sixteen-Toes.

“Why should the clippers, I oppose?”
Scoffed Tenebrion Fifteen-Toes

A heavy, oaken door did close
On Tenebrion Fourteen-Toes

A trade the butcher did propose
To Tenebrion Thirteen-Toes

One septic digit decomposed
On Tenebrion Twelve-Toes

“You win and lose, that’s how it goes,”
Shrugged Tenebrion Eleven-Toes.

With feet deformed, impaired and charred
He quit his ways – he’s now a bard –
And travels ‘round performing shows
As Tenebrion Just Ten-Toes
Final PC: Regor the Valorious, the ONLY theatrically-inclined half-orc androgyne wandering ALFA, Artistic Director for Cormanthor Stage Productions, one-time stand up pirate and self-educated barrister of the bar.

Former PC: Begor Nightstrummer, Executive Stage Writer and Assistant Director of Planned Gifts for the Roving Entertainment Group of Ruith

Current PC: Sheshe Little Eels
User avatar
Ithildur
Dungeon Master
Posts: 3548
Joined: Wed Oct 06, 2004 7:46 am
Location: Best pizza town in the universe
Contact:

Re: Roving Entertainment Group of Ruith

Post by Ithildur »

:) :yeah: Keep up the good work sirrah.
Formerly: Aglaril Shaelara, Faerun's unlikeliest Bladesinger
Current main: Ky - something

It’s not the critic who counts...The credit belongs to the man who actually is in the arena, who strives violently, who errs and comes up short again and again...who if he wins, knows the triumph of high achievement, but who if he fails, fails while daring greatly.-T. Roosevelt
Ladellon
Dire Badger
Posts: 155
Joined: Tue Jan 13, 2004 1:24 am
Location: just north of Leadfeather

Re: Roving Entertainment Group of Ruith

Post by Ladellon »

Been singing this around town, mostly near the Bright Blade or the Lady's College, hoping to see that gnome again . . .

Timidly he broached our table
At the Blade one eve,
Pleading, “Help me, if you’re able
I’m truly quite naïve.”

“Though just arrived, I fear I’m lost.
The Lady’s College please.”
I must get there at any cost.
I’ll pay the standard fees.”

That GNOME!
Opened up his purse
But if we pressed him, he’d reclose it.

That GNOME!
No one saw the wealth
We all just hoped that he’d expose it.

My research has clearly shown
To all of us he’s merely known . . .
As . . . that GNOME!

“For gems, we’ll even leave our wine!”
One of our number said,
Then, standing, formed us in a line
And to the college led.

He followed with his books in tow -
One quite a hefty tome -
When we arrived he was aglow
This would be his new home.

That GNOME!
Has research to do
A bit obsessed, but he’ll conduct it.

That GNOME!
If he needs a lab
We all expect he’ll just construct it.

My research has clearly shown
To all of us he’s merely known . . .
As . . . that GNOME!

A simple task - he paid us well
To walk him half a league.
Then, humming, bid us all farewell
And left us with intrigue.

What is his purpose at the school?
Why had he traveled far?
Why did he pay with such a jewel?
Is that not quite bizarre?

That GNOME!
Thought he was a bard
But if we pressed him, he’d denounce it.

That GNOME!
No one learned his name
But if they did they’d mispronounce it.

My research has clearly shown
To all of us he’s merely known . . .
As . . . that GNOME!
Final PC: Regor the Valorious, the ONLY theatrically-inclined half-orc androgyne wandering ALFA, Artistic Director for Cormanthor Stage Productions, one-time stand up pirate and self-educated barrister of the bar.

Former PC: Begor Nightstrummer, Executive Stage Writer and Assistant Director of Planned Gifts for the Roving Entertainment Group of Ruith

Current PC: Sheshe Little Eels
User avatar
Ithildur
Dungeon Master
Posts: 3548
Joined: Wed Oct 06, 2004 7:46 am
Location: Best pizza town in the universe
Contact:

Re: Roving Entertainment Group of Ruith

Post by Ithildur »

:mrgreen:

THAT Gnome! I haven't even met him and yet I strangely miss him!

Well done!
Formerly: Aglaril Shaelara, Faerun's unlikeliest Bladesinger
Current main: Ky - something

It’s not the critic who counts...The credit belongs to the man who actually is in the arena, who strives violently, who errs and comes up short again and again...who if he wins, knows the triumph of high achievement, but who if he fails, fails while daring greatly.-T. Roosevelt
Ladellon
Dire Badger
Posts: 155
Joined: Tue Jan 13, 2004 1:24 am
Location: just north of Leadfeather

Re: Roving Entertainment Group of Ruith

Post by Ladellon »

Darren the Blade

The dragon lay upon the ground
While Darren stood unstaid.
He’d slain it in a battle pitched
With just his mighty blade.

Now from within the creature’s cave,
A maiden forward sped
And ran to Darren’s open arms
And kissed his golden head.

“You’re shabby now,” she pointed out,
“all sweaty and unkempt.
I’ll clean you ‘til you smell of rose –
It may take three attempts.”

Darren could scarcely trust his ears –
This woman’s goal was change.
As his reward for freeing her,
His life she’d rearrange.

With dread he searched about the plain
And spotted what he’d need.
He gently set the lass aside
And ran to mount his steed.

He galloped off but swift returned,
Another dragon in tow,
Lead the lass back to her cave
And shouted, “In you go!”

He then turned to the beast in scales
And stated, pleadingly,
“Guard well and let her not escape.
She’ll not be changing me.”
Final PC: Regor the Valorious, the ONLY theatrically-inclined half-orc androgyne wandering ALFA, Artistic Director for Cormanthor Stage Productions, one-time stand up pirate and self-educated barrister of the bar.

Former PC: Begor Nightstrummer, Executive Stage Writer and Assistant Director of Planned Gifts for the Roving Entertainment Group of Ruith

Current PC: Sheshe Little Eels
Ladellon
Dire Badger
Posts: 155
Joined: Tue Jan 13, 2004 1:24 am
Location: just north of Leadfeather

Re: Roving Entertainment Group of Ruith

Post by Ladellon »

The Daring Assault of Darren Jacobson

Hidden within a vale where voices
Sound then disappear
A fortress rose, midst tow’ring oaks,
Inspiring dread and fear.

T’was rumored that within thugs and
A treasure-guarding fiend
Lay waiting for each hapless trav’ler
Stumbling on the scene.

On day, of late, stout and hardy
Lad with shield and sword
Set forth to breach the sturdy walls
And disperse the evil horde.

When evil’s flarin’
There’s no comparin’
Look out for Darren.
He comes quite unannounced.

Whilst all are glarin’
There’ll be no sparin’
Look out for Darren.
His foes will soon be trounced.

Audaciously, avoiding tact,
The lad strode to his fate,
Struck the door a ringing blow
And shouted through the gate.

“Come out, you dogs,” he boldly roared,
“I’m here to cleanse the land!”
Whatever gods to whom you pray –
They cannot stay my hand.”

And come they did, wild brandishing
Their maces, clubs and dirks.
The lad poised to receive their charge
And wipe away their smirks.

When evil’s flarin’
There’s no comparin’
Look out for Darren.
He comes quite unannounced.

Whilst all are glarin’
There’ll be no sparin’
Look out for Darren.
His foes will soon be trounced.

Mere moments passed and strewn about
Lay countless brigand dead.
Among them stood a seething lad
who slowly raised his head.

Across the courtyard of the ancient,
Crumbling hideaway
Appeared the bandit leader who declared,
“You I now will slay.”

A dreadful beast – an ogre – standing
Ten full feet in height
Rushed lad and both knew this would be
Someone’s final fight.

When evil’s flarin’
There’s no comparin’
Look out for Darren.
He comes quite unannounced.

Whilst all are glarin’
There’ll be no sparin’
Look out for Darren.
His foes will soon be trounced.

Though pressed, the lad soon felled the beast
And castle’s peace restored.
No longer would the travelers fear,
For he was now its lord.

All evil-doers round about, though,
Packed up lairs and fled.
For dreading the lad’s fiery wrath,
They chose the wilds instead.

As for the lad, it’s now the Gate
He wanders day and night
Seeking other dreadful wrongs
That he can set aright.
Final PC: Regor the Valorious, the ONLY theatrically-inclined half-orc androgyne wandering ALFA, Artistic Director for Cormanthor Stage Productions, one-time stand up pirate and self-educated barrister of the bar.

Former PC: Begor Nightstrummer, Executive Stage Writer and Assistant Director of Planned Gifts for the Roving Entertainment Group of Ruith

Current PC: Sheshe Little Eels
Ladellon
Dire Badger
Posts: 155
Joined: Tue Jan 13, 2004 1:24 am
Location: just north of Leadfeather

Re: Roving Entertainment Group of Ruith

Post by Ladellon »

Performed on occasion about the hills of Silverymoon and in smaller towns along the Sword Coast.

Nearby soft, rolling hills, with an inn and two mills,
Lays a town of picturesque allure
Where the folk, now worn out had once been, without doubt,
Energetic and gaily demure.

But now men, cows and sheep often go without sleep
Up to several tendays in a row
For a boorish musician with endless ambition
Ceaselessly is rehearsing his show.

But it’s not in the town that this bard can be found
Instead o’er the hills you must stray
Where the tunes are so loud they can deafen a crowd
Even one nearly two leagues away.

Though silence is preferred, through the day can be heard
Harp strings plucked with unusual dash.
Yet when day ends at last, a horn blows out a blast
And signals yet another night bash.

Though performed quite serenely, when played so routinely,
The harp has long ceased to be charming.
While the horn, blown all night, sends the shadows to flight
And makes quite impossible farming.

Now when all the milk curdled and wives grew infertile
Folk raised up their clubs, staves and shovels
And shouting, “That’s it, we’ll no longer submit,”
Streamed forth from their crude wooden hovels.

Angered faces all flushed, toward the stringing they rushed,
Their intent – have a musical slaughter.
“No more noise,” one man cried, clearly fit to be tied,
“Let us sink that foul harp in the water!”

As they madly protested and summit soon crested
The blacksmith, whose blade was the sharpest,
Mutely mouthing a ‘whoa,’ pointed out down below
A two-headed, horn-blowing harpist.

Twas a giant they saw, as their mouths sagged in awe,
With two heads, one engrossed in the strumming.
While the other, detached, looked uphill as he scratched
And noticed the enraged town folk coming.

With no apprehension, the giant rose to attention
And bade the crowd sit in the shade,
As they mutually pleaded, “You’re just what we’ve needed
To settle a bet that we’ve made.”

“It’s my poor, mislead brother,” said one head of the other,
“Who needs the assistance, I say,
For he makes up excuses and staunchly refuses
To give up his horn-blowing way.”

“It’s a mind-numbing din that my own blooded kin
Does produce with an effort each night
While my harp, I profess, doesn’t cause such distress.
Please do tell us now which one is right.”

But before a reply could be had, came a sigh,
As the other head lifted his horn.
And snapped with a glare at his brother, “How dare
You complain of my skills with such scorn.”

“For you are too pensive and, frankly, offensive
To listen to day after day.
While you sit, strum, and brood, I enliven the mood
With the bold melodies that I play.”

Like a fine conflagration, their growing frustration
At each other’s music selection
Had burned deep in their soul and consumed, heads to toe,
All remnants of family affection.

Now with fists clenched in rage the two brothers engaged
And thumped on each other with vigor.
The townsfolk all scattered before they were splattered
For two-headed giants are bigger.

So they bit, gouged and rolled, t’was a sight to behold,
Devastating the land all around.
And the townsfolk thought, ‘No, if we don’t end this row
Then our town will be razed to the ground.’

Now a red-headed lad, the most clever plan had,
And he shouted it o’er the commotion.
“There’s a contest,” said he, “in a city, you see
Called Bentley, eastward by the ocean.

“While it’s quite a long trudge, there the critics can judge
Whether harpist or horner is finer.”
And with that the brawl ceased, both headlocks were released,
And they looked up, both with a shiner.

Then each giant brother shook hands with the other
And, packing their instruments gently,
Waved goodbye to the throng and set off with a song
For the contest in far away Bentley.

Then the townsfolk all cheered as the lad was revered
For his brilliant and cunning solution.
And, in fact he was knighted (though no foe was smited)
For removing the town’s noise pollution.

The giant, incidentally, soon arrived in Bentley
With three days to go ere the bard fest
And found accommodations, beyond expectations,
An oversized inn called the Guards Rest.

Approaching the owner (a half-elven loner)
They learned of the contest’s location
And, without any dally, cut down a short alley,
Found the crowd and made proclamation:

“We’re here as musicians in your competition
To enter and win if we’re able.
My brother plays horn. Me? Harp since I was born.
Please show us to the sign up table.”

When shown where they should go to compete in the show
By one of the interim sentries
Both brothers, too proud, strode firmly through the crowd
And registered as separate entries.

For the music one played, the other displayed
An insolent air of disdaining.
But a pact they’d both sworn (day for harp, night for horn)
And promised there’d be no complaining.

Whilst they signed, the crowd sneered and in silence they jeered
The brothers’ unexhibited art.
“What, a giant?” They groaned. “This cannot be condoned.
We must encourage him to depart.”

As the crowd had imparted, that night the noise started,
It began with a loud horn barrage.
It shook the whole city and people cried, “Pity!
We don’t need this stinging ear massage!”

The folks ran for cover hoping it would be over.
“Surely our agony will be brief.”
But they were quite dismayed as the horn played and played
And when dawn came they found no relief.

For the sought after calm in the morn, like a bomb,
Exploded in unforeseen stringing.
Through the day it was heard and went on undeterred
With sporadic stretches of singing.

For two nights and two days the town lived in a haze.
Unable to sleep, they were tired.
They could take it no more so the judges (all four)
Against the giant conspired.

For the winner next day would be hired to play -
A two month long show would begin.
Thus a concerned judge said, “we’ll all be walking dead
If that giant just happens to win.”

So the morn of the fest, a tired clergyman blessed
The bleary-eyed folks in the crowd.
On contestants as well he cast his divine spell:
“Play lively, consistent, and loud.”

The crowd tried their best and, with but little rest,
They strained to enjoy each musician,
Yet recoiled when they saw the giant brothers guffaw
And move to performing position.

Ere one brother could start, a judge stood to impart,
“This entry is disqualified!”
While the two-headed giant stood crossly defiant,
The gathering was quite mollified.

“By what right,” boomed one brother, “do you from another
Decide who can play and who can’t?”
A judge said, “Rules clearly allow one bard merely
Or group to sing, play, dance, or chant.”

The horn player glowered and o’er the judge towered
While pensively his brother thought.
Then o’er the commotion, he whispered a notion
And beamed at the smile that it brought.

“Dear judge, your delusion has led to confusion,”
The harpist serenely replied.
“Examine the list, sir, and you’ll have to concur
Our entry cannot be denied.”

After close inspection, the judge’s complexion
Turned red and he gritted his teeth.
The harpist, with fine hand, had signed his name (Brannand)
(his brother) was etched underneath.

To the congregation, the judge, in frustration,
Shrugged and announced, “We’ve another.
Though we have all dreaded this entry, two-headed,
I give you now Brann and his brother.”

The crowd was dejected as Brannand elected
To begin with an intricate tune.
It was brooding at first but then with a sharp burst,
He winked toward his brother, who crooned:

A delicate maiden of purest appeal
Would gaze on her suitors and longed to reveal
Her secret desire to break from routine
And do something stirring, unplanned, and obscene
But kept up the ruse of a daughter genteel
To amuse and placate her mother, the queen.

Among the young men who sought her hand to wed,
Stood tensely a soldier who inwardly pled,
‘Although I wear armor and brandish a sword
This martial existence has left me quite bored.
If she could but see within my heart instead
I’d make her a fine-mannered, indulgent lord.’

When their eyes met each knew the fates had aligned
To bring them together (one coarse, one refined.)
Now she hunts for wild boars while he works at the loom.
She carries an axe and he carries a broom.
Which serves to prove when opposites are combined
It may turn out better so never assume.

The horn had resounded, the crowd was astounded,
The notes were no longer appalling.
Alone they played subdued, both unpolished and crude.
Together they were quite enthralling.

The sleep they’d not gotten was quickly forgotten.
The crowd brightened with each not they played.
And now they applauded, the brothers were lauded
For their rhapsodic new serenade.

Within days, o’er the land, the sound of this new band
Became an accepted sensation.
And though towns employed them and wholly enjoyed them,
Their departure brought on an ovation.

For in places they weren’t the people were current
On sleep and in getting chores finished.
And while they had improved to where listeners approved,
Their noise level hadn’t diminished.
Final PC: Regor the Valorious, the ONLY theatrically-inclined half-orc androgyne wandering ALFA, Artistic Director for Cormanthor Stage Productions, one-time stand up pirate and self-educated barrister of the bar.

Former PC: Begor Nightstrummer, Executive Stage Writer and Assistant Director of Planned Gifts for the Roving Entertainment Group of Ruith

Current PC: Sheshe Little Eels
Ladellon
Dire Badger
Posts: 155
Joined: Tue Jan 13, 2004 1:24 am
Location: just north of Leadfeather

Re: Roving Entertainment Group of Ruith

Post by Ladellon »

The Troupe, a song sung to the knights (and others) at Hawk's Nest. "Lighten the mood," one knight was heard to say.

Once by a Lord I was provided
The finest of many commissions:
“Search the lands round about and be guided
To the most accomplished musicians.
Bring them here in a troupe for to play.
Do not linger, you’ve but a tenday.”

But, of course, I regarded his warning
And packed along instruments needed
For I planned to ride out the next morning.
Indeed, Eastward’s how I proceeded
In search of a confident singer,
A piper, a flutist and stringer.

For six days I searched unrewarded
All the towns in the deserts and plains
‘twas as it some demon had hoarded
All musicians and bound them in chains.
Undeterred, I resolved to persist.
If I didn’t, I would be dismissed.

The seventh day proved less substandard
As I chanced on a crowd in pursuit
Of a doddering man who meandered
Aimlessly as he tooted his flute.
I then posed this request, “Be a dear,
Play your flute, sir, for I’d like to hear.”

The sound that emitted was shocking.
All our eyes filled with tears from the noise.
Despite what appeared to be mocking,
Time afforded be but little choice.
So I pulled him aside from the group
And said stiffly, “Welcome to the troupe.”

The eighth day my odd luck repeated
When rounding a bend in a valley.
A clumsy, young piper was seated
Amidst what appeared like a rally.
I then posed this request, “Be a dear,
Play your pipes, ma’am for I’d like to hear.”

The sound the emitted was awful.
All our eyes filled with tears from the noise.
Despite what seemed to be unlawful,
Time afforded me but little choice.
So I pulled her aside from the group
And said stiffly, “Welcome to the group.”

The month day, just one more to finish,
I dined at a tavern, the B sharp,
Where folks who seemed not to diminish
Watched a man who played the harp.
I then posed this request, “Be a dear,
Play your harp, sir, for I’d like to hear.”

The sound that emitted was hateful.
All our eyes filled with tears from the noise.
Despite the fact I was ungrateful,
Time afforded me but little choice.
So I pulled him aside from the group
And said stiffly, “Welcome to the troupe.”

Well, I threw up my hands in defeat.
A forlorn, motley group was my curse.
With no singer it was incomplete –
All instruments and no one for verse.
So I headed back home where would loom
A frustrated Lord and my doom.

Soon in the manor we assembled,
Which oddly was devoid of locals.
Quite nervous, the four of us trembled,
Me the most since I was on vocals.
We were breaking a rule, universal,
Never perform without a rehearsal.

The Lord smiled ear to ear as we played,
An upsetting performance at best.
Through our atrocious din he was staid
And, in fact, seemed sincerely impressed.
His confidence moved us to splendor
As we finished the tune slow and tender.

He rose, did the Lord, and applauded,
Yet seemed not to hear our reactions.
Then shouted, “You all shall be lauded.”
I then understood his strange actions.
It seems I had misplaced my fears
For the Lord was quite deaf in both ears.
Final PC: Regor the Valorious, the ONLY theatrically-inclined half-orc androgyne wandering ALFA, Artistic Director for Cormanthor Stage Productions, one-time stand up pirate and self-educated barrister of the bar.

Former PC: Begor Nightstrummer, Executive Stage Writer and Assistant Director of Planned Gifts for the Roving Entertainment Group of Ruith

Current PC: Sheshe Little Eels
Ladellon
Dire Badger
Posts: 155
Joined: Tue Jan 13, 2004 1:24 am
Location: just north of Leadfeather

Re: Roving Entertainment Group of Ruith

Post by Ladellon »

The Battle of Auvandell, sung to the knights (and others) at Hawk's Nest, in tribute to their contribution on the fateful day beyond the SIlverymoon Pass.

*holds up a wyvern’s tail*

This tail, behold, cannot be told
Yet was obtained through actions bold.


*sets the tail on the ground*

Fear not, be well, for I will tell
You of the Battle of Auvandell.

A line of knights with streamers bright
Advanced through mountain pass to fight
The winged dread high overhead,
Who, shrieking, to the village sped.

From Hawk’s Nest fort, came in support
Irregulars – a last resort.
With blade and wand, they moved beyond
To face what darkened peaks had spawned.

Quite opportune, a gibbous moon
Illumed the hills to show that soon,
As orcs steadfast below amassed,
A battle would enjoin at last.

His voice divine, “hold fast the line!”
A squire shouted ‘midst the pine,
But failed to stay the wild foray
Of cohorts t’ward the teeming fray.

As both sides met the fiendish threat
Was quick surrounded and beset
‘Til all around them on the ground
Lay each foul orc that had been downed.

While at the gate others faced their fate
With sword and shield and armored plate.
As death rained down upon the town
And talons ripped and tore men down.

Amidst the muck, what wretched luck!
A mounted arcane lass was struck.
Though poisoned sting did blackness bring
A healer to her aid did spring.

Foes then retreated, quite defeated,
Their forces broken and depleted.
Glad cheers were shared, “The town is spared!”
And peace again was soon declared.


*bends over to pick up the wyvern tail*

So here I stand, this tail in hand
And you might rightly now demand
The truth from lies. Can you surmise -
How I did come upon this prize?

A wyvern, see, had broken free
And dug its talons deep in me.
A desperate try, towards the sky,
To lift and drop and watch me die.

My rapier flashed, the wyvern thrashed,
And I now stand here unabashed.
Though maimed and scarred, I have this shard.


*lifts the tail with a wide grin*

The lesson – don’t upstage the bard.
Final PC: Regor the Valorious, the ONLY theatrically-inclined half-orc androgyne wandering ALFA, Artistic Director for Cormanthor Stage Productions, one-time stand up pirate and self-educated barrister of the bar.

Former PC: Begor Nightstrummer, Executive Stage Writer and Assistant Director of Planned Gifts for the Roving Entertainment Group of Ruith

Current PC: Sheshe Little Eels
Post Reply