[Poem Sent to The Hall of The Balladeers] [DM]

[mazzz]

[A letter of goatskin parchment arrives, perfumed and carrying with it the scent of roses. A wax seal with the symbol of a sword and chalice bind it, and once cracked and unfurled it reveals a sonnet]

[OOC - Regular Text:]

[hide]Fairest in yon glebe of honour'd rose-hall
A flower bludy red, blowing bold-bright
In times of peace, the flower of The Knight!
Yells "gardyloo!" the sweeting's ballad call.
O'er mountain-top rode death at their tail,
Of ash and dark-- yet holding hearts to faith,
"'Tis time" says all, "To smite that wretch'd wraith!"
Yells "gardyloo!" in victory's wassail.
In days 'ere past, their gilded glories grand,
March they upon a fort of paynim host
And pythoness with fell witchcraft to boast!
Yet just as lief, the lairds held high their brands,
With final oath to holy Wheel above,
Yell'd "gardyloo!" and charged to Krak thereof!

Sonnet by Palamon of Saint-Allard, Balladeer-Aspirant[/hide]

[Ironside]

"Gardyloo!" indeed.  What a charming verse! 

What was your inspiration, here? In your own words. 

And do tell me, how good are you with crowds?

-A. Didereaux
Lyrist

[mazzz]

[As quickly as the letter from the Lyrist came, a response arrives once more, adorned with much of the same embellishments and carrying with it a flowery-scent]

My heart is gladdened to read your words of praise, good Lyrist! I shall attempt to answer your queries in brief:

My inspiration for the tale struck me when I witnessed for the first time the profound beauty scattered about the Krak-- in both its gallant and brilliant decor, in and the many tales of chivalric wonder in your boundless libraries of song and dance. The magnificent displays of silvered armour of yesteryear's heroes adorned with crimson-rose embellishments with roots of flowing ivy, like tributary rivers feeding to a grand lake. The image of what was once spectacular and heroic, and what shall-- may the Mother's arms protect-- be so once again. And who could forget the stories I've heard, from Rossa band and Lyrist tome of the conquest of the Krak de Roses by the roving hero-band of the fabled Cinquefoils of old. Who, in faith, has not heard of that honoured tale?

I am a wandering refugee, a son of a misbegotten era. The times we live in are difficult and filled with strife, and who amongst us does not suffer so at the heat of the sands and the horrors of that accurst devil, Pra'Raj? None, aye, none, and in these wretched times there is a drought more terrible than that of B'aara's drying tears and Hapia's fabled waters-- the drought of enthusiasm. I thought to myself of what better medicine to cheer the heart than goodly song and tale of heroic might by a warm hearth and a good mug of spiced wine? With all the novice teachings I have endured in my aspirations to embody the fledgling hospitaller, I've found no remedy to sorrow and a heavy heart than this, iwis! May the fortune of the winds and the Wheel above grant us valiant heroes much like those of bygone Cinquefoil Knights to raise the alarm and lead the charge to the glories of tomorrow.

As for your second question, my good man: in truth and faith, I cannot right-well gauge my proficiency with crowds, for I am a man of faith and that is what my erstwhile boyhood's efforts were fully spent on with healthy vigor and youthful desire. However, I am a man of good cheer, and if may I indulge in that fatal, terrible sin of pride for but a moment and let the ink upon this page record my burgeoning hubris... I do think I have a winning smile!

- Palamon of Saint-Allard
Balladeer-Aspirant