Okay, quick pretext
.This is a poem I wrote to summarize a great little impromptu quest Thrasy DMed for Gelcur and me. It was good fun, very thrilling (and I thought we were done for a couple of times, heh). The events are not really exaggerated, and at times the whole screen was filled with red names of hobgoblins
. All in all a great piece of thrill, and certainly got our hearts pumping! Now, enjoy the poem, the verse is a bit off in the beginning, but you'll get into it 
!The ballad of broken arrows
Was on grim an autumn’s day,
near the town of Waterdeep
that two friends long from home
this day her gates would keep.
The hour was past midday yet,
As they wandered out
And behind them, deep and low,
The city’s horn would sound
They nay knew what it was
that made the horn so blow
and so they travelled on
from here to hitherto.
And so they came to the great place
where caravans oft leave
and from the trees rustled sounds
but the sounds were brief.
On they pressed, not knowing still
what fate for them would hold
and it was at Long Road’s bridge
that danger did unfold.
Only a straggler, first they thought
of hobgoblin’s thronging mass
but soon, they saw, it was too much –
this way they could not pass.
Here first a stand they made,
Exchanging shaft for shaft
of many arrow, long and fine
as opposed to goblin craft.
Many fell, but more still came
swarming down the way
and so, at last, they had to flee
back with the waning day.
Down the road and further still
there flight it would them lead
while all the way, the goblin’s wrath
behind them, would not cede.
Finally the gate in sight!
Wounds already grim.
Yet the gate, tight was it locked
And so the spirits dim.
“Let us in, we come as friends!”
they shouted up in need.
“Alas, we cannot! You must hold!”
came from the city’s keep.
And so they turned to face the horde
Their spirits dim and low
But what choice did they have?
Again they pulled the bow.
Arrows sung, spells were cast
And forth the battle raged
And so the fighting swept around
In blood and death engaged.
Bell-clear rang the elven voice,
And high the hin did shout.
For again, wave after wave
Goblin hordes they’d rout.
Yet their wounds were also grave
and many arrows stuck
From their clothes, cloak and shield
Soon they’d be out of luck.
When 12 times 12 the count did say,
of foes slain in fight
finally, a voice would ring:
“Inside! Now do your flight!”
And on them inside would look
The magister of gate’s guard
“You have done well! Hero’s true!
You fought here brave and hard.”
“Henceforth shall you be friends of this
our city beloved much.
For let all know, that we do praise
Deeds of honour such.”
“You excelled in battle here
and held off much foe.
Gave us time to gather force
To rally pike and bow.”
“Now go with ease, you are free.”
To them he then did say.
And so they went, with bruises much
But proud on on their way.
Gelcur was the little man,
Small only in height
For few match him in bravery
comes it to such a fight.
Aszûne then was the elven maid,
Lady of a dwarf’s hall
touched by the Moonbow, was her hand
to lead her foes to fall.
And so they went, on on their way
as the minstrel sings.
And maybe, one day, who knows?
More tales of them he brings.
Edited to add title to Subject line - Lou
That's no way to minstrel! 
