Sonnets and Songs that Hyades Shall Sing

[Rincewind1]

The Death of King Harloon


Sat on the throne of blood and gold,
did King Harloon, the Zhentil Lord,
All say that his heart as ice was cold,
Yet nay saw he his doom in magic orb



From North came the men bold,
Dragon's Pride and Warrior fit,
As with most of stories told,
Over old grudge blood was split


Some say for a woman He was killed,
Others, that for his deeds most vile,
And many say that the villain died


Yet, pardon an old's poet inquire,
But a question appears in grim style,
"Is any crown earned without ire?"






Lady Isabel and Elven Knight - an interpretation of old Tethyrian ballade


Fair lady Isabel sits in her bower sewing,
Smiling, as the flowers grew faint
There she heard an elf-knight blowing his horn.
The first morning in Eleint

"Was it your horn that I heard blowing,
An young elf-knight to step in my garden?"

This maiden had scarcely these words spoken,
Till in at her window the elf-knight has looked

"It's a very strange matter, fair maiden," said he,
"I did blow my horn but you call on me."

"But will you give to your greenwood side?
If you are willing, I shall lend you a ride,"

He leapt on a horse, and she on another,
And they rode on the greenwood together.

"Lay down, lay down, lady Isabel," said he,
"We have come to the place where you are to die."

"Have mercy, have mercy, kind sir, on me,
But once my dear father and mother let me see.

"Seven king's-daughters here have I slain,
And you shall be the eight of them."

"Oh sit down a while, lay your head on my knee,
That we may have some rest before I die."

She stroked his hair, the nearer he did creep,
With a small charm she lulled him fast asleep.

With his own sword-belt she quickly choked him,
With his own dagger she surely stabbed him,

"If seven king's-daughters here you have slain,
Lay down here, a husband to them all'."

[Rincewind1]

Boogey Man


There lived once a man quite fair,
A simple lad, like most of listening men,
Married too, his love a flower most rare
And none dreamed he shall become Boogeyman

He toiled hard on his farm in the day
And slept with wife well at night,
Until he found fleshrooms under hay
And none dreamed he shall become Boogeyman


The Maiden's kiss quite gentle is,
And when she blows you one,
Little can be done, in our case as much as his
And none dreamed he shall become Boogeyman

His teeth grew sharp, his skin cold,
His hands turned strong, his eyes dead by then
His wife watched, blinded by love old,
And none dreamed he shall become Boogeyman

As the Maiden's gift turned his wife dead,
He took trusty axe sharp from the shed,
In tears hacked off sweet flower's head,
And he saw in the mirror's rain the Boogeyman


He prowls the lands now, unseen
You can spot him on the road, if you can
Empty eyes, hooded head, ghost's kin.
And all know him as Boogeyman.

[Rincewind1]

Birth of Evil


In a forest nearby sea's shore
A fair maiden happily strolled
And in her soul was little voe
But cruel Fate already voted

She sang merrily to the trees
As gaze upon her crimson eyes
Woe, doomed now indeed she is
As Her kismet falls from skies

An orcan hunter beauty defiles
The elven gods avert their eyes
And all heard are trees cries
Finished, pained maiden lies

Ashamed, cast away
Lolth was her name

[Rincewind1]

[Rincewind1]

The Knight and the Squire


The true story of Mistlocke's Founding Fathers
As done by Charles Hyades

Act I: Discovery

Mysterious cloud of mist appears. As it slowly vanishes, two figures step out of it – one clad in regal armor of a lord, the other – simple bearings of a squire


Knight Rhemar Caermyn(Knight): [Grunts] What is the foul witchcraft that brought us upon this alien land?

Squire Donyarth Aberdenn(Squire): [Wild eyed from fear] I know not sir Caermyn, but  should we not retreat? We were riding to battle the Mist Raiders at Sis Liman...

Knight: Fear not, my good Donyarth. We shall soon discover the reason why we were brought to this place. There! You see it? In the distance, some figure! Let us walk and speak to it, and learn perhaps we shall our peril.

The Guardian Spirit of Mistlocke enters

Guardian Spirit: Halt who goes there, and turn away now, travellers.

Squire: Perhaps we should listen to his words, sir....

Knight: Ha! Rhemar Caermyn fears nobody!

Spirit: I am nobody, knight. Turn away now, and you shall be spared. Remain, and you shall vanish, as your corpse will wither in the mists.

Knight: Who are you, being, that you speak such to me?

Guardian: I am the Guardian Spirit of this place, and I am to remain here, until the time comes for a brave noble to defeat me – for Fate has decreed, that once in distant future, this is where the Stand against Withering shall take place. However – only a true champion may dream to defeat me, only the one who shall lead the People to their salvation within the Mist.

Knight: Very well then. I know not the ways of Fate, but though I may be a warrior, I am a learned noble, and I know what it means if Mist decide to lead someone – draw your steel, or whatever weapon you wield, beast! For I am the champion, or if I am not, let my body wither to the mists!

Squire: Sir, please, let us just leave!

The Knight and Guardian duel. Just as it seems that the Guardian has the upper hand, the Squire suddenly stabs him in the back with a dagger. The Knight promptly goes over, and slaps him on the cheek

Knight: What is the meaning of this? Fool! It was a ruse on my part, I had him where I desired, and now....now you have dishonored the duel, and all hope is lost!

Squire: But....I killed him! That means I must be the Champion!

Knight: Foolish boy! Is this all I managed to beat into you, about how a knight should behave?! [Slaps Squire again]

Suddenly, the Guardian speaks. The Knight turns, accompanied by a hateful glare of his Squire




Guardian: Touch your squire not, good sirrah....you have vanquished me, and I knew my doom came, when we clashes steel but first time, despite him desacrating the duel, you must be the Champion of Mistlocke. Go forth then, and bring the people to this place, so that it may once be the Last Refuge, when the great darkness falls upon the land. Come closer, so that I may bless you....

The Guardian blesses the Knight, who knees alongside him, taking his hand as Guardian perishes

Knight: So I shall, honorable spirit. Rest now – you have fought well....ah! I can sense it...of course! I know now where the lands lie! The spirit bestowed me the knowledge of how to come back here! Quickly Squire! Draw a map as I speak, so I shall never forget!

The Squire does, so, while grumbling, and for a moment, a hushed exchange takes place

Squire: Well sir, I am done...ah! But surely you thirst much? Allow me to get you some water to drink, nearby I see a river.

Knight: Thank you very much, Donyarth. Perhaps we will make a knight yet out of you.


Act II: Betrayal

The squire stands alone, apparently filling a goblet with some water....but a smirk of malice on his lips suggests that his intentions are not pure

Squire: Dishonorable, he calls me, the Amnian hound! But today, I shall show him, once and for all....

Squire takes out a vial from his robes, and adds it to water

Squire: With this little gift, I shall not only become a Knight – simple lie, that the fool knighted me before he died – and also, a Champion of Fate!

Knight enters

Knight: [Impatient voice] Squire! What takes you so long?

Squire: Ah, pardon me sir! I was lost in thought, charmed by the beauty of this misty river. Here, please drink this.

Squire hands Knight the drink, which he accepts with a smile. When he finishes it, he suddenly clenches his throat, and falls on his knees, as Squire draws a knife from his boot

Knight: Why...what....what is this foul humour that steals my breath from me, and breaks my legs so I can naugh stand on them?

Squire: Fate, my "good" Lord Caermyn. Or should I say – the fate that I steal today, from you! With this knife, I steal from you the title of Fate's Champion, and it shall be -me- who will lead the people to Mistlocke!

The Squire stabs Knight, who promptly bleeds out on the ground


Act III: Hope

As the Knight bleeds out, a figure suddenly steps out of the blinding light

Angel of Siamorphe: Raise, valiant warrior....raise and do not despair.

Knight: Who...who are you?

Angel: I am a messanger of Lady Siamorphe, who saw the purity of your heart, good Knight, and whom shall not allow a destiny to be stolen from one, who upholds her virtues so much. For you must lead the people to the safety of the Mists – as it has been foretold, and as Lady Siamorphe decreed. So lay still now, Knight, and let me breathe a new life into thee

The Angel kneels next to the Knight, and touches his lips with his helmet's mouthguard. The Knight swiftly picks himself up

Knight: Thank you, defender most noble! However – my treacherous companion has travelled far now, surely. How am I to make up for the lost time?

Angel: Fear not. Enter the Mists, and they shall take you to the place of his stay.

The angel promptly waves it's hand, and a cloud of Mist appears, into which the Knight enters


Act IV: Justice

As the mist vanishes, the Knight can be seen standing behind the Squire, who is sitting, and feasting himself on some sausage and ale, the map in front of him

Squire: Soon, reach I shall the civilisation again, and become a hero! And nobody will know what really passed here. By now, his body is surely but bones, and even those shall soon wither to the Mists, if Spirit's words were true!

Knight: I am sure they were, but I am afraid that there's still meat on my bones....my good Squire.

The Squire stands up startled, as Knight's heavy, gauntleted hands fall on his shoulders, tossing him to the ground, and taking the map from it

Knight: I shall take now what is rightfuly mine. As for you....

Knight walks over to the Squire, who tries to crawl away, raising his hands in front of him, begging

Squire: Please sir, I beg you, I was a fool, show mercy!

The Knight raises his blade....then slowly sheathes it

Knight: Mercy I shall give you indeed, but not becouse you deserve any, but becouse you shall go to Sis Liman, and bolster it's defences, as I shall ride with the people to the holy ground. Betray my trust here, however, and know, that if Siamorphe's wrath shall not get you first, I shall. Now begone from my eyes, wench!

As the Knight disappears, the Squire slowly picks himself up, and casts a baleful glare towards the audience, as a smirk slowly plays over his lips.


Squire: Fear not, Rhemar Caermyn....I shall go to the port's defence, and I shall fight. And there, I shall tell the story, how you have stolen my maps....and take the allies of my family with me, to the precious sanctuary within the Mists. And as you have my maps, everyone shall belive me, and once again, the title of Champion shall be mine!

The Squire promptly leaves, as Mist settles on the middle again. The actors go out for a bow

[Rincewind1]

Black Gem of Goblin Slayers

Blackgem is his proud name
Slaying goblins his game!
No man can feel safe
When his axe chafe!

He drinks lots of ale at night
And kills foes packed tight
"Mercy" they yell as they fight
And screaming, make a flight

Ah, to be like Blackgem!
Dwarven lads united sigh
Can't resist him any fem
Ladies love his nightly delight

Come along and raise your glass
Spirit of Blackgem drinks with us!


*A small adnotation is made*

Sometimes, a poet is just hungry, and needs to whore Art out. And better to whore Art, then himself.

[Rincewind1]

Ruby Queen of Gems

A masterwork of divine jeweler,
Her angel eyes are like sapphires
Green, like the pastures of Cormer
I wish to drown in their waves

The beautiful opal of her face
Refuses me the Hypnos' gift
To taste the ruby's grace
Can heal wide heart's rift

But what adorns her most
Is what eyes cannot see
The diamond of the host
Mind worthy of marquee

For but one smile of her to have
Hope I ever such a task archieve

[Rincewind1]

The Flower

With stone eyes she stared
Little did I know of her
But soon as taverns I travelled
I heard the following monicker

The Beautiful Flower of Docks
The Unyielding Wind of Change
Defeated, locked in drow stocks
No more ideals heard are strange!

But....where did the flower go?
Was it truely doing of drow?
No, a plot formed long ago
Her eyes  plucked by Cyrician crow

Betrayed spirit, finally granted respite....
One
Hook
At
A
Time