Chronicle of Kars'ten's Exploits
Once on a time, as old tales tell to us
There was a fighter, as Kars’ten we address:
Of Cyrill she was vagrant and rebel,
And in her time was such a heroine belle
That greater was there not beneath the sun.
Full many a prisoner had bonds undone;
What with her strength and her constitution more
She gained the company of four,
That was the old time before Grue.
There defended she the town, though her sword yellow grew,
And obtained a helm, then homeward bound.
In glory came and in shambles found,
And, this, her rebel camp, lay waste.
And thus, in sorrow and immediately braced,
Let I this Githyanki the witch spied
With dragon and elf by her side.
And truly, were it not too long to relate,
I will tell you fully how, that date,
Was gained the tale of those alive
By chance and the southern way arrived;
- “There are survivors, and they have been taken South. You should find more than just your friends there. But they are safe. For now.”
And all of the great bickering that was brought
Where charlatan and we paladins distraught;
And how was wooed Tarkhun of brown fur,
That hardy and strong kingly minotaur;
And of the tiff some gave their assent,
And of the choices to gnome-home we went;
But all of that I must for now endure.
I have, Vlaakith knows, a small dragon not quite mature,
And quite the larcenist, and the fire not just a puff.
The remnant of the tale is long enough.
I will not hinder any, in my turn;
Let each man tell his tale, until we learn
Which of us all most deserves to win;
So where I stopped, again I’ll now begin.
The king of whom I speak, of great mistrust,
When he had hid almost all from of us,
In all well-being and in utmost pride,
He grew aware, casting his eyes aside,
That right upon the desert sands,
A hole and worm, cursed this land,
Knelt, all of of us, before this crater;
But such a clamorous cry of woe was later
That in the whole hole the party split
No such action should they ever commit;
Nor would they cease lamenting till at last
They’d kill the bugs and the large nest.
“What happened to the rogue and horse
Disturb my triumph with this deathly course?”
Cried Illrith. “Do you so much envy
My honour that you thus complain and cry?
Or who has wronged you now, or who offended?
Come, tell me whether it may be amended
And let me heal your glowing self and whatever you lack.”
The centaur lady answered back,
After she’d swooned, with cheek so deathly drear
That it was pitiful to see and hear,
And said: "You, to whom Fortune has but given
Victory, and to conquered where you’re striven
Your glory and your honour grieve not us;
But we beseech your aid and pity thus.
Have mercy on our woe and our distress.
Some drop of pity, of your gentleness,
Upon us, this wretched mimic did fall!
For see, Illrith, there is no one of us all
That has not been in such a scene;
Now we are fighters, as may well be seen:
Thanks be to Fortune and her treacherous wheel,
There’s none can rest assured of wounds to heal.
And truly, Illrith, expecting your return,
In Pity’s temple, where the fires yet burn,
We have been waiting through a long night;
Now help us, Illrith, since it is in your might.