Apparitions at the Edge

Many lessons learned in today’s battle.   For one; know your strength’s Sam.  Though it is true that your stout hearted friend Bronn teased you about your fighting skill it s no reason to run to the top of the charge.   Perhaps next time it would be wiser to hold steady my hand, hold back with my fellow companions and unleash a more powerful blow.   For in the end Bronn himself met an untimely death in the belly of a cube of jelly.

Haste oft speeds one’s demise

I’ve never felt such anguish as that caused by those odd apparitions.  Twas like losing everyone that was close to me all at one time, Ellis, Sveta, my home.  It was all deeply disturbing.  After I charged they ganged up on me. Fortunately several newcomers rescued us, for without their help it would have been a very different battle.  It turns out that all along I had been carrying them in my backpack.  The box  of Nistrama’s conjured forth a human who is remarkably elven like and a bit quirky but a grand fellow overall and his assistant.  The human acting elvish calls himself Professor Borjerz or Borjorz.  I did not quite catch it.  I will call him Professor B.   His lovely assistant was named Sariel.  A mysterious creature who like Lucien is often quiet.

Perhaps I will write a song but tonight I’ve a taste for warm bed and bath and some mulled wine.

Bridges Onward

In retreat from the Lance Forest in flames

As she crosses the bridge gone childhood games

 

In the crucible of hard journeys trials

She thinks back on her past looks down and smiles

 

Born to a house of great wealth but no care

Of the world’s troubles t’was never aware

 

She quietly rests by a broad trees’ shade

And thinks of the new friends she has just made

 

The tree starts to move like naught ever seen

It’s leaves shimmer colors reds, purples, greens

 

The smell it gives off a fragrant bouquet

Tucked under its branches here I could stay

 

It speaks to us says we are sufficient

We must fix the hole; fill what was rent

The Avatar is what  by men I'm called

And what it did next my heart it appalled

 

It conjured a small songbird onto a branch

And again its next move cause me to blanch

 

For it crushed the songbird onto my blade

And with this fierce magic new it was made

 

He called me his child, he called me “Blood Song”

this violent act seemed so terribly wrong

 

It’s voice was so gentle, my view so minute

It’s wisdom and depth one could not dispute.

 

In the end I suppose all go to the grave

And what matters most is that we are brave

 

The rest they too, all received a small gift

As it told us we must repair the rift.

 

It predicted for each a path of great fate

Cryptically it spoke no answer was straight.

 

It spoke to us. I thought of the seven.

Then the broad tree seemed normal again.

T’was gone in a flash as if n’er  t’was there.

But in its place now our moods much more fair

 

Seven in number our rag tag small crew

My goodness what if those tales are all true.

 

The road ahead a dangerous affair

So, let’s onto this rift to mend the tear.

Cipher of Around

Too long ago for anyone to tell
holly sages from high to earth they fell

Each held a secret a font of old lore
from the source of magic, pages they tore

In lands in the west, past desert and sea
runes in strange places a great oddity

Symbols and letters drawn figures in code
told a grim future where pitch blackness flowed

Cyril the Cipher Chief of the Mages
loved a good puzzle solving in stages

Under moonlight and starlight, fire, steel, wood, stone
explored every corner and weary he'd grown

Looking for monthto connect many signs
Intricate patterns, designs in designs.

Vigorous stude for nearly a year
every stone uncovered -  a new did appear.

Standing one day on a rock on Brine Hill
ingenious thoughts his head they did fill.

Not a moment too soon - scribbled and penned
the code - it made sense - his mind it did rend.

He babbled and muttered his mind seemed fried
Eerrily vapid, "he's mad" they all cried

Despondent grew those who saw his grim state
a  once giant wizard doomed by his fate

Reach for the stars and your fall can be long
King and queens, knights and knaves, weak and the strong.

Nary a one can espape the warp's weave
each person is caught unable to leave

Some say however that Cyril stayed true
sanity was his friend though no one knew.

Western Redoubt

This is one of two songs that The Avatar imparted into my head and told me to sing to Katrin and my companions.


You've heard the tale of Alestar Gren
So this friendly bard won't tell it again

This tale shall dwell on the stronghold and fort
and on the comportment of those in court

The stronghold was cleaved from side of a mountain
And tall in the center stood a great fountain

Grand the fort stood as a beacon of light
for world weary travelers; a rest for the night

Hospitality at Western Redoubt
reknowned all around famous about

It's staff congenial, it's guards had no fear
A place of great hope for those far and near

The fountain t'was in the heart of town square
held a magic of old; potent and rare

Those who took drink oft cured of what ailed
panacea t'was not but rare that it failed

People would come from distances vast
with hope that the fountain would cure them at last

The people inside Redoubt did flourish
As Gren their leader their hearts did nourish

Thus through skirmishes, war, brigand, wizards
the fortress held up through storm and blizzards

Yet when after Alestar Gren had died
very quickly it crumbled though they tried

It was as if this fort in the mountain
shared in Gren's heart as well as the fountain

It did not take long; with dust covered quick
Like a fort diseased; t'was if it was sick

In just a short while all windswept; entombed.
Nary a trace of the life once there bloomed.

Now Western Redoubt just a story told
of days bygone of heroes old

But ever t'is good, remember the light
Make your fort a beacon g'ainst the dark night'

The Avatar

I am saving this journal entry for the nearly mind blowing experience with "The Avatar"  I am still reeling and processing that one. 

With the bridge as a metaphor for crossing into adulthood and the raging forest fire as a crucible for radical transformation I feel as though I am no longer a child.   This last leg of the journey has been a major rite of passage. I now carry a kind of responsibility that I have not known before.

I will say this he gave me two songs and their intricate melodies to play.

By Bridge and By Fire

I've been experimenting with lyrical forms.  In my last ballad  "Long Lost Legend of Alestar Gren"  I inherited a basic story from the book that Sveta gave me but I decided to turn the prose into a song.  The rythm is iambic pentameter and I think Ellis would be proud of me.   In this next song I've taken our recent adventures and used the same meter to chronicle our voyage.


With ash in the air and forest ablaze,
we all stumbled on as if in a maze.

Through thicket and pine through bush and through brush
the party did press the party did rush

Till bridge over chasm loomed as their way
and the stench of scorched land befouled the day

And just when matters the the most dark they seemed
Up from the chasm dark tentacles teemed

Insubstantial as whisps floating in air
Rattling our pysches and leaving them bare

A dwarf the call Bronn appeared on the bridge
trouncing  pico then holding the ridge

Dwarf steel in hand he dealt a hard blow
then pulled it in close and felled the poor foe

Hard shots hit the foes but hardly they bled
As they flew near us they filled us with dread

Wer pushed the Caravan to cross the ravine
Paralyzed by fear of beasts never seen

Bronn donned an armor twas made of cold ice
Lucian knocked arrows and shot twice or thrice.

Bronn called on the earth to root foes in place
fierce and stong and those of his race.

The half-elven bard with a clang and shout
thundered fell createures, knocked them about.

The magical combo cause our foes much grief
their fall to below was our great relief

When Diesa was slain: brew nearly lost
Bardyn rallied forth no matter the cost

Save it she did and soon foes we did smite
We crossed o'er the bridge; slept for the night.

The tale of the battle by bridge and fire
Told to you now ti's meant to inspire

A message simple I'd like to convey
Against great odds one can oft win the day

The Long Lost Legend of Alestar Gren

I've been working on this epic ballad based on a book I've been reading that I acquired while with the Gypsies.  Sveta gave it to me. It is old.  She is such a wonderful woman.  The hardest part of leaving so surreptitiously was leaving her behind.    It contains some interesting tales.  I thought I would work it into a lyrical epic poem.


Alestar Gren ruled the Pine Forest court
Fir trees hewn  into a strong wooden fort

Set back against cliff it offered refuge
To those fighting darknesse's dread deluge

Alestar's reign quite gentle and wise
This story will tell of Alestar's rise

From when he could grip a sword in his hand
and pull himself up from a crawl to a stand

He studied great blades, worked on his swordplay
He moved like a god most people did say

One day from afar roda in foul fell beast
gian and hungry its maw never ceased

Devouring villagers by the score
a deadlier beast never seen before

The land's bravest knights all dropped like the rain
each its own story though all of them slain

Reva the galliant led many great men
Sh was fierce and bright with the strenght of ten

They rod to the beast and faced it head on
So fearsome it was that courage was gone

Most ran and fled for fear's grip was tight
the foul beast's grave maw slew many a knight

The few and the brave took arms stood ground
but at battles end just dry bones were found

Oh nothing remained of the valiant troupe
barely a breastplate or sword in alll the group.

Reva stood fierce for all of a moment
Then like a small doll her body was  bent

She screamed aloud in a cry of great pain
As it sundered her body, torn and then slain
Vextor tried next on the Griffon's strong wings
neither knew well of the slayer of kngs

Heart stopping looks made them fall from the air
twas not the fall killed but the beasts claw's tear

Prone they both went like so many before
Shattered abd broken and bloodied with gore

So many fell tha the tales all lose track
So many slaughtered by this beast's attack

Till along cam the young Alestar Gren
with his sword and shield but no other men

On the hill they fought from Dawn until night
All  those who saw were transfixed by the sight

A nineteen year boy longsword in his hand
fighting this creature a spectacle grand

He parried and dodged, he cut and he thrust
And blows he did land it bled and it pussed

Yet all the whole while Gren fought there unfazed
where time wore on the creature seemed dazed

The beast's fast fierce swipes once deadly for all
coming less quick - Perhaps it would fall?

Gren fought on his endurance amazing
his fierce sword sailing striking and blazing

The creature doth bled from many and gash
Gren pressed on forward with slash after slash

Then finally on the second night's eve
Alestar's sword arm the monster did cleave

The sound so desperate a thud and a crack
beast pressing onward.  Its final attack.

Though his sword arm was shattered. Cut straight through.
To the task before him Gren stayd true

He dropped an tumbled to reach for the blade
grab it he did and bold statement he made

"Yield now foul creature or meet your fate"
The creature pressed forward it did not abate.

Gren with his sword in left not his right creat
Charged ever forward determined to fight

Gren let the creature's bite just miss his head
Sideswiped the giant the stabbed the beast dead

He fell to the ground now finally spent
and to seek help those watching now went

He recovered with time, a hero true
and with this great battle his legend grew

He refused magic to heal his lost arm
Soon that just became part of his charm

"A reminder to all of courage inside"
To honor all those who fought but then died

Each of us has a  brave warrior strong
whose heart steers us true and knows right from wrong

Look to it people in dire time of needs
certainly you will accomplish great deeds

They made him their king and he ruled the land
a most gentle heart and one  helping hand

His fort was a beacon Wood tower of light
For those seeking strenght to continue their fight

He trained many soldiers all his long days
Precision and wisdom, swordplay and ways

His soldiers were best not solely by skill
His soldiers were best not by those they could kill

His men were the best, fought with honor and pride
His men were the best for what was inside

Here ends the legend of Alestar Gren
Come back next time I will sing it again.