//A scrap of parchment, the writing calligraphically ornate//
From Erevan in Arvandor, the king of ghosts and shadows there, Mad prankster I, at his command, am sent to view the night sports here: What revel rout Is kept about, In every corner where I go, I will o'er see And merry be, And make good sport with ho, ho, ho!
***
//OOC: with apologies to Ben Jonson.
//Another note, identical in style to the last//
More swift than lightening can I fly, and round about this airy cavern soon, And, in a minute's space, descry each thing that's done beneath the moon; There's not a hag Nor ghost shall wag, Nor cry "goblin!" where I do go, But trickster I Their feats will spy, And fear them home with ho, ho, ho!
//A third//
If any wanderers I meet that from their night-sports do trudge home, With counterfeiting voice I greet and cause them on with me to roam, Through caves, through lakes, Through bogs, through quakes, -- O'er rock and lock with them I go; I call upon Them to come on, And wend me, laughing ho, ho, ho!
When lads and lasses merry be With possets and with junkets fine, Unseen of all the company, I eat their cakes and sip their wine; And to make sport, I fart and snort, And out the candles I do blow; The maids I kiss, They shriek, "Who's this?" I answer nought, but ho, ho, ho!
//Another joins the quickly burgeoning stack of similar scraps attached to the Crone's board//
When lazy folks have nought to do but study how to steal and lie, To make debate, and mischief too, twixt one another secretly: I mark their gloss, And do disclose To them that they had wronged so; When I have done, I get me gone, And leave them scolding, ho, ho, ho!
All god-bred Toril's time have I thus nightly revelled to and fro: And, for my pranks, folk call me by the name of thanks, The Calla-man: Fiends, ghosts, and sprites That haunt the nights, The hags and goblins do me know, And beldames old, My feats have told, So Aluve, Aluve, ho, ho, ho!
//The writing has become somewhat less ornate, more bold in style. The note is decorated in four corners with a asymmetrical rays of a starburst in green and black//
If mad merry pranks your delight be, that puncture guff and sanctimony; If pretension is your enemy, I think it's me you want to see.
Commit a deed, a jape of note, In order to yourself promote; Great or small, and you might gloat; And I shall find you and promote.
Amuse and enlighten, this I implore, For these are the things that I most adore. But hurt not, or harm, for these I ignore. 'Tis satire and joke that you must explore.
Hear the humming. Fear the drumming.
The Callaman is coming.
Ho.
Ho.
Ho.