Najm at Hastati Gate: a Song by the Chroniclers

 Rather a while ago as it seems now, Najm ibn Marwan commissioned Gan ad-Din of the Chroniclers to write a ballad for him--a ballad for his own glory, an heroic deed-song! It was to commemorate the victory at the Hastati Gate, but also to be a song glorifying Saint Iskameen, whom Najm claims as a spiritual ancestor, or perhaps a direct ancestor.

Gan, happy to take Najm's money, complied with alacrity--rather more alacrity than the Scribes in recording it. He developed the song during the jaunt to the Denyan Isles that, though only entered recently into these chronicles, actually happened about three months ago (around the beginning of September).

Najm is most pleased with this lied, and will have it sung at the launching of his new ship, the Rihha, as part of his private celebration for that occasion.

As always, as an in-character accounting of events, this earns Gan 100 xp per character level.

Najm at Hastati Gate

(aka Ballad of Najm, or Ballad of Hastati Gate)

(sung to the tune of: “Am'rekan Pye”

by the ancient bard: D'ahn Mk'leene)

Not so very long ago, the gods rained down their favor
Upon Najm ibn Marwan.
He gathered a fine company
Of mystics and great warriors
To join him on a journey into Hell!

Tsurr al Qadim made us shiver
With every blow we did deliver,
Undead from the doorways,
Fell before our fair blades!
I remember when we almost died
A s'ro called out and burned my hide,
But something healed me deep inside
The day St. Iskameen arrived!

So, HAIL! HAIL! Najm ibn Marwan!
Led his comrades into battle, and the battle was won!
Called Saint Iskameen and lightning down from the sky,
Crying, "None of us, this day shall die!
None of us this day shall die!"

A Stygian was on the prowl,
Collectors crept along the roads,
A s'ro commanded in the clouds!
The minions of Tsurr al Qadim
Corrupt and desecrate your soul,
And animate your corpse as something foul!

Cultists ply their evil trade,
Raise undead beasts with shield and blade
They'll track you to your homes
Then flay your skin from bones!
Hundreds stood against our host
Zombies, skeletons, and ghosts,
They tried their best, our souls to roast
The day we almost died!

Everyone sang: “HAIL! HAIL! Najm ibn Marwan!”
Led his comrades into battle, and the battle was won!
Called Saint Iskameen and lightning down from the sky,
Crying, "None of us, this day shall die!
None of us this day shall die!"

As we fought in a poisoned land,
Lightning flashed from Najm's hand,
And fire burst forth from Heijo's wand!
The s'ro lashed out with bane and blight,
The cultists cast their spells in spite,
As the Stygian and Sesel there did fight.

The Barcidae rushed out with swank,
But the undead moved upon our flank,
Their arrows fell like rain.
All the Barcidae were slain!
As Durham laughed with sheer delight,
'Sun Forger' flew from left and right,
With Najm lighting up the night,
The day we almost died!

Everyone sang: “HAIL! HAIL! Najm ibn Marwan!”
Led his comrades into battle, and the battle was won!
Called Saint Iskameen and lightning down from the sky,
Crying, "None of us, this day shall die!
None of us this day shall die!”

The carnage grew at Hastati gate,
The undead s'ro there laying waste,
Our only plan to act in haste!
Bart sent Gan ahead through space,
And undead burned in gouts of flame,
'Cause fire is Heijo's one true friend.

And as we watched the fight unfold,
Gan and Sesel, fast and bold,
Najm opened his mind
And St. Iskameen did bind!
The poison storm the Saint did quell,
And daylight burst asunder hell!
The s'ro then slain, before us fell,
The day we almost died!

Everyone sang: “HAIL! HAIL! Najm ibn Marwan!”
Led his comrades into battle, and the battle was won!
Called Saint Iskameen and lightning down from the sky,
Crying, "None of us, this day shall die!
None of us this day shall die!”

We passed Poor Brothers on the way
And told them how we won the day
They all smiled and stopped to pray.
We arrived at Cothon Gadeed
Intent to share our heroes' deed,
The throng there gathered 'round, our tale to heed.

And in their joy, the children danced
The Souffets cried, and the Hansemen pranced,
The pall of death was broken
When our success was spoken.
And the gallants I admire most
Najm, Bart, and Durham's host
Cried out to all there, “Hear our boast!”
The day we almost died.

“HAIL!, HAIL! Najm ibn Marwan!”
Led his comrades into battle, and the battle was won!
Called Saint Iskameen and lightning down fro the sky,
Crying, "None of us, this day shall die!
None of us this day shall die!”

“HAIL! HAIL! Najm ibn Marwan!”
Led his comrades into battle, and the battle was won!
Called Saint Iskameen and lightning down from the sky,
Crying, "None of us, this day shall die!
None of us this day shall die!”

The Hunt for Din-Din

 A song put together by Gan and his Chroniclers, sung to a rather familiar folk tune, and celebrating the action of a recent expedition aboard ship (and earning Gan 100 xp per level):

Just sit right back, and hear a tale,

A tale of a fateful trip.

It started in Cothon-Gadeed,

Aboard the Darkwing ship.

Upon the deck stood Durham tall,

And Telman, sodden drunk.

With garum, wine, and passengers

They made for Baldeshum.

The weather started getting rough,

The galley she was tossed!

If not for the fearless helmsman, Gan,

The Darkwing would be lost!

But the privateer made port on time,

The cargo turned much gold!

Repairs were made, and the crew rejoiced,

The hunt would soon turn bold!

With Bartholomew – a wizard fair,

And Heijo – hands most stained.

With Fa Min, Demitritus, and Lars

A din-din would be slain.

As Darkwing made the southern reef,

The ship, she was attacked.

Her hull was gnawed by giant crabs,

But her keel it would not crack!

Bart unleashed the arcane arts,

He turned some foes to crows.

As Lars jammed spears into their eyes

And squarely up their nose!

Eaters, muagh, and din-din large

Assailed this mighty crew.

But Durham, Telman, and the rest

Prevailed as heroes do!

The Darkwing headed home again,

East to Cothon-Gadeed.

And now she docks beside the Hanse,

All hail her mighty deeds!

From Bartholomew's Journals: An Ode

 [written by Phil, player of Bartholomew Pettibone, concerning a recent expedition and earning Bart 100 xp per level]

From the Journals of Bartholomew Pettibone, of the House Pettibone

A Purveyor of Enchanting Sorcery

23 July 2022

Ode to Avin

Dead lay poor Avin,

Cold within a tube.

At first there was one,

But then there were two.

Confusion blanketed all,

But a decision was made.

One life to cull,

One life to trade.

Friends dragged the body

To and fro,

Within a wagon,

Filled with hay,

And canvas covered.

Above and Underground,

Through halls and doors,

With symbols they were discovered

In daylight and in dark.

Tombs were cracked and opened

In search of baubles, gems, and jewels.

Fellow companion, stalwart Mei,

Retrieved a remarkable blade,

Lain untouched and unmarred

Through the machinations of time.

Sylvaine, a maiden fair and from afar,

Animated bones and bade them follow.

And so they did.

And so our search continued,

Hunting for the circled symbol,

Marked and magicked,

Laid darkly on a floor.

Crypts of ancients barred our way.

Bentres the builder lay undisturbed,
Bones brittled and crumbling,
In long repose with friends:
Nailah of wisdom deep,
Mnemba who ascends,
And Pehasi, the one who feeds.
Who were these old ones
Buried in forgotten crypts?
None know, none know.

The room was found,
And power gleamed all 'round.
The chamber was secured
And preparations made.
Arcane magic wrapped about,
And so the tribulations start!
The words tripped out
From bold Sylvaine,
Lips pale and eyes afire,
Concentration furrowing brow.

And then the dead arrived!
Shadows oozing through the walls,
And a demon breaking down the door!
The soul of Barlow was ripped
And sundered from their body!
Gone and dead, forevermore!
Strands of webbing appeared
And kept the demon at bay.
Pako's trusty crossbow twanged!
Najm and Heijo pitched oil and flame!
Durham's hammer flew about the room,
And Bartholomew bemoaned their doom!
But all stood sturdy with vigor,
Braced by Sesel's aid
and Gan's strong arm!

Finally the nasty ghoulies
Were abolished and burned.
The tide of shades and demon turned.
And there within the tube
Another malevolent force was purged!
And a child was formed,
Having the likeness of Avin.
Tiny, incomplete, yet in visage pure.

The ritual was done.
The trials were done.
Our melancholy party
Repaired to the Lonely Cat,
For sup and ale and chat.
And from those darkened halls
We did escape ...
Alive?

The Lay of Oskold and Thirdr

[Recorded a time ago, and drawn forth when the Scribes were coming to understand something of the tribal background of Lars Ghar-Rider (and Kzin-Friend??); the tale itself is old, of course--ancient!--and as such there is no "right" way of telling it, as the telling, or singing as the case may be, changes with every iteration and generation. Only that the story is always the same, however the details get moved for this or that purpose in the telling ...

This particular version is the one sung by Kynes, shaman of the Fremen tribe, who is encamped alongside Lars on the land of the iqtadar Tolwan just west and south of Cothon. Kynes  it was who called for adventurers to seek an ancient artefact of the Fremen some months ago, appearing perhaps as some kind of prophet or messenger from the wilderness. And to those who might listen, he would sing to them of the Voice, or the Voice of Ardha, or of the Red Forest; of the trials of Oskold and his love for Thirdr, whose names are known to descendants of those who dwelt in Tusr al Qadim as Uskalid and Deyr.

As it is said, Oskold (or Uskalid) was one of the "First Men", great warriors who strode the land when gods and demons still battled in the heavens--when the giant warriors with lances of light walked, and death was their provenance!--and he fell in love with a chashkeri-woman, Thirdr (or Deyr al Sikhay), who was of the forest, but who through love for Oskold came to pity men and sought to give them refuge from destruction. Some say she is a spirit of the Toxic Jungles east of Misr, but the Fremen hold a different interpretation of the Red Forest, as may be seen in this version of the tale.

One must remember that the Scribes here have merely transcribed a translation of an ancient song, as sung by Kynes by the firelight of his camp under the swiftly racing stars of the nighted sky on the banks of the Garden River's delta. The headlands rise to the west, while the candle- and fire-lit windows of Cothon and Gadeed to the east provide steady light compared to the quick courses of the stars. A cool air breathes off the churning river delta; the lanterns of lightermen on the river add their own motion to the night. The voice of Kynes rises above the night-sounds of the rivershore--the susurrating leaves of the trees who lean over the dark waters, the sounds of distant carousing in the tower of the iqtadar, and the occasional splash of a fish or ninenyelu in the waters. The shaman's voice is strong like the wind of the strange desert from whence he's come--a desert bordered by crisscrossing canals--and he aids his performance only with the constant tapping of his staff held in the one hand, and the occasional flourish of the tambour in his other hand to mark the special stresses.

Alas! The verse is an unmetered translation; the special cadences of the Freemen song, marked by staff and tambour in the changing nightwinds--a strange visitor in a strange land--go unremarked in this version. But the simple meaning of the song is retained, assured of both by Lars and by Kynes himself. So listen as you will ... and remember that the soughing trees and drifting waters of the Garden Delta are themselves strange night-sounds to a song that came from a desert of dry winds, blowing sand, edged in by foreign cuttings of water. And somewhere in their depths a forest ... Red and Weird ... ]

Oskold ong Thirdr ("Uskalid wa Deyr al Sikhay")

The First Men were carried to this world by the Gods. Some say because they had forgotten the Gods' ways, and needed a new beginning.

They were warriors, bold and tall, and they strode all like giants, and lightning was in their hands, and their eyes were invincible.

But as the Gods warred above, so the First Men warred below, and what was before was forgotten, and the world that was here was broken.

Oskold (called Uskalid in old Tsurr) was a Hero in these wars.

He served the Khorzahnyakub, and it was Oskold who vanquished the Demons of Mazanderan.

But the skies were broken.

And the forests were made strange.

And the folk of the First Men were also broken and made strange--Klackon, Kzin, Alkari, and the others.

Many went astray in this confusion.

The Gods were called, but they were gone.

The Demons were called, but they were broken.

The folk cried out, and Oskold answered, and he went into the forest strange.

It was a red place, and his mind was bent there, in that red hour.

He battled beasts: the Landru and the Zakharob, both sro and aqaa, and even Shai-Hulud.

But his victories made him sick, and he lay down in a glade beside a sea and slept, and as he slept, the beautiful Thirdr (called Deyr in old Tsurr) came to him.

Was she a chashkeri? Some say her copper hair made her so, and some say her epithet means that faerie-thing of the waters.*

Yet, she pitied Oskold, and she went to him, and she healed his sick by singing to him the Voice.

So she taught him to live with and not against the world;

So she taught him to wear skin, and not armor;

So she taught him again to build, and hunt, and use, but never to corrupt;

(So she taught him to heed the Voice, and not reject it)**

So they were wed, flesh to flesh, and Oskold had sway over the red forest, even as Thirdr was given sway over the folk.

And they came forth, and many were glad, but there were others whose dark hearts wished still to build with zort in opposition to the Voice.

But Oskold scattered them, and Thirdr sowed deep seeds, and the folk grew great with the red forest.

And when two hundred years*** had passed, Oskold was taken to the House of the First Coming and laid there.

And when Thirdr went thereafter, she also was taken, and laid beside Oskold.

So the Heroes have always been lain.

And the red forest leans over it, and Shai-Hulud circles it, and in the hour of need (when the Voice calls)**** they will rise and reclaim their Kingdom.

*a chashkeri is a "water-sprite", and there is dispute as to whether this character Thirdr/Deyr is supposed to be sprite or human

**there is hot dispute among chanters as to whether this line/idea is a later interpolation, or original

***likewise, there is dispute as to the year meant here--some traditions maintain the twelve-month lunar year, others argue for the full solar year of three lunars, plus an intercalary "month"

****another dispute; more particularly, the idea of the world-Voice is maintained by some nomadic tribes, but rejected by others

The Saga of Lars Ghar-Rider

[written by Wendy, player of Heijo, concerning the quest for the ghar some months ago, and earning Heijo 100 xp per level; it is meant to be sung to the tune of "O-zone numa numa yei" ... though the Scribes admit to scratching their heads in wonderment when trying to fit words to music without demonstration]

Saga of Lars Ghar-Rider

The second day, they’re on their way,

Lars, Heijo and Mara on the ferry first,

Watch the river serpent eat a ferry hand!

Terrorizing the working men,

The party tries to then defend.

The decision not to jump into the river was hard.

But there is no advantage to singly jumping into the river.

Lars poles furiously and helps get to the other side.

Leaper’s hackles rise and then cooler heads prevail and he also poles the barge across.

Mara hides.

Across the river they finally arrive and all the ferry men run and hide.

Back across the river with the net in tow

The gahr is caught and dragged ashore.

The fight is on, the gar surprised

From the net the magic flies and the bolts fly!

Lars astride the mighty beast

Hacks the neck!

The party fights bravely against the thrashing creature on the river bank!

More crossbow bolts and javelins –

With a mighty blow from Seventoes the creature fell

To the cheers of the ferry men.

After butchering and feasting and drinking, the journey continues to the haunted isle

Where the party meets the lord Tolwan and are well-met with feasting and gracious manners and tales are told and drinks are had, and a congenial evening is spent before the next days adventures.

On the beach, they bravely lured and killed yet another, but it seemed to be young, so they reset and tried again.

A larger one is called to the beach and Lars Gahr Rider Fang Ripper kills it with a mere touch!