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I submit to you, my fellow Puddlebyians, a song-poem by this once apprentice Bard. If the words fall harsh on your ears please forgive me. This Common-language translation does not hold a candle to the words of my native Fen'neko tongue:

"The darkness grows in a damp place!"
The yells ring out across Puddleby.
"The darkness grows in a damp place!"
The sunstoned cry echos the spoken word.
Good citizens scatter, seeking the new tear.
Stomach-churning screams of reality rending
Rip through the air, our world crying in pain
As her flesh is torn asunder.
"It's in the marsh!" comes the hail
Across the sunstone network.
"To the marsh!" comes the battlecry,
"Gather for the assault in the Meshra lair!"
Fish-people don't care that their world is at an end
Webbed claws meet sword and axe, defending their home.
Exiles swarm through, emerging in fetid water
To be greeted by the Void's children.
Hordes of Greater Wraiths and walking corpses,
Too many to count, are only too happy to dance
With the brave warriors and healers
Who seek to seal the tear.
Death oozes from boney fingers
Draining life from those they touch.
Moonstones' blue glow lights the fetid swamp,
Healers risking their lives to mend the rip
As exiles fall all around.
Even walls of kudzu can not save them
As the undine reap their bitter harvest.
All for naught, the brave exiles fall,
Purgatory jammed with the souls
Of the brave Puddlebyians.
All for naught,
For this darkness has matured
And the battle has been lost.
Chil'tek help us, the darkness grows.\\

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Page last modified on March 12, 2009, at 10:35 AM