Fraek
08-28-2004, 01:11 AM
"With Agnar as our inspiration,
and our hatred towards light,
we march today, we march tomorrow,
and one day we shall fight!
We march, Elf, Dwarf and Man alike,
so different one might think,
but all of us share common paths,
there is undoubtably a link:
All of us have lands to fight for,
fore-fathers to avenge,
all those here have been opressed,
all of us want revenge!
If I will live to see tomorrow,
I truly do not know,
but if I die I will die standing,
to take my killer's blow.
If we will be victorious,
I really am not sure,
but our cause will live forever more,
so grand, and oh, so pure!
Whatcha think, Sir Letum!?"
The gnome stood there, smiling, his large eyes fully dialated, even though the hall was lit up by many torches, making it rather bright. He was facing Indo Letum, who was sitting on his throne, in the city of Der-Fun'Dul, which had recntly been aptured by hs forces.
The gnome Bard had been present during the march, but nobody had seen hm during the battle. He had explained this by telling people either that he was an illusionist-bard or that they must simply not have noticed him in the midst of battle, but the truth was of course that he had seperated himself from the group once they got near Der-Fun'Dul, something which was made easy by the fact that the city was deep inside a vast forest.
Indo himself was wearing a rather large smile on his face, something which was rather unusual for him. He asked in a gentle voice:
"Do you want to know what I think?"
"Yes, very much so!" answered the gnome, rapidly nodding his head.
"Weeeell... ...I think that this must the lamest excuse for a poem that I've ever heard! HOW DARE YOU INSULT ME WITH THIS DRIVEL!? GET OUT OF HERE, YOU COWARDLY BARD, BEFORE I HAVE MY GUARDS TAKE YOU DOWN INTO THE PITS AND MAKE YOU TEN INCHES LONGER!
He needed not finish his sentence, for the Bard had bolted out of the room as soon as Indo had spoken the word "get". Indo was left alone in the room (with the exception of two guards, but they don't count, as they are paid to be there), muttering about stupid bards wasting his valuable time.
Nearly a week had passed and the song "The March to Der-Fun'Dul" had become somewhat of a hit amongst the local Bards. You couldn't go anywhere in Der-Fun'Dul without hearing a bard singing the song, which was told to be "written by one of the warriors who was actually there!"
and our hatred towards light,
we march today, we march tomorrow,
and one day we shall fight!
We march, Elf, Dwarf and Man alike,
so different one might think,
but all of us share common paths,
there is undoubtably a link:
All of us have lands to fight for,
fore-fathers to avenge,
all those here have been opressed,
all of us want revenge!
If I will live to see tomorrow,
I truly do not know,
but if I die I will die standing,
to take my killer's blow.
If we will be victorious,
I really am not sure,
but our cause will live forever more,
so grand, and oh, so pure!
Whatcha think, Sir Letum!?"
The gnome stood there, smiling, his large eyes fully dialated, even though the hall was lit up by many torches, making it rather bright. He was facing Indo Letum, who was sitting on his throne, in the city of Der-Fun'Dul, which had recntly been aptured by hs forces.
The gnome Bard had been present during the march, but nobody had seen hm during the battle. He had explained this by telling people either that he was an illusionist-bard or that they must simply not have noticed him in the midst of battle, but the truth was of course that he had seperated himself from the group once they got near Der-Fun'Dul, something which was made easy by the fact that the city was deep inside a vast forest.
Indo himself was wearing a rather large smile on his face, something which was rather unusual for him. He asked in a gentle voice:
"Do you want to know what I think?"
"Yes, very much so!" answered the gnome, rapidly nodding his head.
"Weeeell... ...I think that this must the lamest excuse for a poem that I've ever heard! HOW DARE YOU INSULT ME WITH THIS DRIVEL!? GET OUT OF HERE, YOU COWARDLY BARD, BEFORE I HAVE MY GUARDS TAKE YOU DOWN INTO THE PITS AND MAKE YOU TEN INCHES LONGER!
He needed not finish his sentence, for the Bard had bolted out of the room as soon as Indo had spoken the word "get". Indo was left alone in the room (with the exception of two guards, but they don't count, as they are paid to be there), muttering about stupid bards wasting his valuable time.
Nearly a week had passed and the song "The March to Der-Fun'Dul" had become somewhat of a hit amongst the local Bards. You couldn't go anywhere in Der-Fun'Dul without hearing a bard singing the song, which was told to be "written by one of the warriors who was actually there!"