Difference between revisions of "Songs of Otan"
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The treasures were stored in the tunnel with care,<br> | The treasures were stored in the tunnel with care,<br> | ||
| − | + | In hopes that the villainous would never look there;<br> | |
The party was nestled all snug in their beds,<br> | The party was nestled all snug in their beds,<br> | ||
Revision as of 03:08, 23 December 2021
Where there's adventure, there are songs!
Where there's sea, there are shanties!
Where there's wine, there are whores!
'Twas late in the evening
A retelling of events that occurred early in the primordial campaign in the style of Clement Clarke Moore famous poem:
A Visit from St. Nicholas
'Twas late in the eve, and at Koboldy Rock,
Not a creature was stirring, not even Rajok;
The treasures were stored in the tunnel with care,
In hopes that the villainous would never look there;
The party was nestled all snug in their beds,
While delusions of grandeur danced in their heads;
With Matao still in armour and Grief soon to snap,
We had just settled down for a well deserved nap,
When down in the keep there arose such a clatter,
Grief sprang from his bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the tunnel he flew like a flash,
Tore open his door and moved with a dash.
The moon through the slats of the keep all about,
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects throughout,
When, what to his wondering eyes should appear,
But a carrion crawler! Grief’s gut filled with fear,
With features and fangs, so horrid and sick,
He knew in a moment this was not to be quick.
More rapid than eagles the crawler it came,
So Grief whistled and shouted for his party by name:
"Now, Panamon! now, Rajok! now Matao, and Obsidian!
A carrion crawler invades our dominion!
To the top of the stairs from the top of the wall!
Now blast away blast away blast away all!”.
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
Panamon’s energy did crackle awry;
Down the steps of the tunnel Rajok’s arrows they flew,
but like Panamon’s crackle, his aim was untrue--
And then, in the twilight, finally hearing the kerfuffle
The scraping and scratching of this ongoing scuffle,
I slipped on my slippers, and was turning around,
When down the hallway, Matao came with a bound.
He was dressed all in armour, from his head to his foot,
But his chainmail was tarnished, with ashes and soot;
A bundle of javelins he had flung from his back,
And he looked rather spent from his fruitless attack.
His eyes-–how they pleaded! face covered in worry!
“Obsidian please help. You really must hurry”!
I donned my apparel and started to go,
But to Mateo's chagrin, I deliberately moved slow;
And when I arrived at the top of the stairs,
Rajok loosed some more arrows, while Grief said his prayers;
The carrion crawler was broad and it’s belly,
went on for a ways and my word it was smelly.
It was chubby and plump, and I thought to myself,
A match for my party, but no match for this Ælf;
A wink of my eye and a twist of my head
Gave the party to know they had nothing to dread;
I spoke not a word, but went straight to my work,
And summoned my magic; then turned with a jerk,
And laying my finger aside of my nose,
And giving a nod, the temperature rose;
Flames sprang from my fingers, to the crawler below,
And it wriggled and thrashed as I set it aglow.
And if you listened real close as I strode out of sight...
“Praise be to Woden, now, good fucking night”!
Copyright © 2021 Klassen all rights reserved
Always just Kobolds
(to the tune of She's Always a Woman by Billy Joel sung by Dirti Nelli)
They smell pretty bad from what we've been reading.
They'll callously cut you and laugh while you're bleeding.
Some say they're squishy and call them Ungir.
But I can't concur cause they're always just Kobolds to me.
Ooooooohhh, they take care of themselves, they'll steal what they want, they're agents of strife.
Ooooooohhh and they never give up, and they never give in, they just fuck up your life.
They're frequently rude and they're suddenly cruel.
They do as they please, they're just really big tools.
And they can't be convicted, they spit and they drool.
The most they will do is throw daggers at you but they're always just Kobolds to me.
Copyright © 2021 Klassen & Labach all rights reserved
Ballad of Zhadyra's Privateers
Composed by Zhadyra's Privateers, the crew of the Briny Baroness
(to the tune of Stan Rogers' "Barrett's Privateers")
Oh, the year was two-hundred sixty-one
(How I wish I was in Shokan now!)
The governor's letter of marque came in
To the scummiest vessel I'd ever seen
God damn them all!
I was told we'd sail the seas for Ortalyk gold
We'd loose no bows-shed no tears
Now I'm a broken man on a Jagalik pier
The last of Zhaydra's Privateers
Oh, Madil Zhaydra cried the town
(How I wish I was in Shokan now!)
For twenty brave men all fishermen who
Would make for him the Baroness' crew
God damn them all!
I was told we'd sail the seas for Ortalyk gold
We'd loose no bows-shed no tears
Now I'm a broken man on a Jagalik pier
The last of Zhaydra's Privateers
The Baroness, she was a sickening sight,
(How I wish I was in Shokan now!)
She'd a list to the port and her sails a fright
With the crew pumping bilge from her day and night
God damn them all!
I was told we'd sail the seas for Ortalyk gold
We'd loose no bows-shed no tears
Now I'm a broken man on a Jagalik pier
The last of Zhaydra's Privateers
Another Song in the Making
Lalalala
Player's Notes
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