Sharparrow, the Human archer
(From the famous saga "Sharparrow and his Magic Bow", by Pildor the Gnome bard, published by the Affluent Megalomaniac, Al-Drifa, at the author’s expense)
HEAR hear, ladies and gents, the wonderful story of Sharparrow, the most skilled archer Ganareth ever saw, except Alzeria, the immortal Amazon, it goes without saying. May the gods protect me from Alzeria’s wrath, as her arrow strikes faster than a lighting bolt. Indeed, Sharparrow got his skill from Alzeria herself, after long and arduous years of training. And so he became:
Only he could use it, murmuring a mysterious formula, lost since then,
His arrows, made out of the hardest wood, were faster than the wind,
More straight than rain falling on the Lake of the Shield,
Their tips were sharper than a Tang thorn
And they hit their foes before they could even blink an eye.
Sharparrow staggered however, when he met the beautiful now take two fresh Zourits, smash them on the table until your arms hurt, then toss them in boiling oil... Who the hell changed my notes?
(We will hear no more about Sharparrow, Pildor the Bard had to flee under a hail of rotten fruit, less harmful than the great hero’s arrows, but almost as accurate. Rumor has it that Sharparrow’s bow may be buried in the plain bearing his name. But these Gnomes that lie through their teeth, and who knows, maybe Sharparrow even existed!)
