In keeping wi' my promise to Blind Otto, I am endeavoring to provide coverage of Story Night until his return. My apologies for the spare manner in which they are presented here, as well as for the lack of any illustrations. I fear that I cannot match Lord Otto's mastery of the form! There was a goodly crowd at The Golden Unicorn in Wispwood Shire last night, and quality entertainment was provided for all. Sandman was in attendance doing a live broadcast, and several folk from various guilds took their turn upon the stage... <blockquote><hr> First was AEowyn's "Tribute to a Jester": Now then, for all who think me a fool my retort is A jester's prime employment Is to kill himself for your enjoyment And a jester unemployed is... Nobodys fool! RIP Danny Kaye [/ QUOTE ] <blockquote><hr> Crystal Rose was next, with this untitled piece: A captain bold from Nujelm Once left his captain quarters, Seduced a maid who hanged herself One morning in her garters. His wicked conscience smitted him, He lost his stomach daily, He took to drinking turpentine And thought upon Miss Bailey. Oh! Miss Bailey, unfortunate Miss Bailey! One night while sleeping on his ship, The captain heard a banging, He left his bed and went on deck, And saw Miss Bailey hanging. His timepiece stopped at Midnight And his candle burned quite palely. And from the mast a ghost stepped down, Behold it was Miss Bailey. Oh! Miss Bailey, unfortunate Miss Bailey! Away, Miss Bailey, he implored, You don't affright me, really, Dear Captain Smith, the ghost replied, You've used me ungenteely. The coroner was hard on me, Because I acted fraily, The Parson would not bury me, Though I'm a dead Miss Bailey. Oh! Miss Bailey, unfortunate Miss Bailey! You won't believe me when I say, The captain got soft-hearted. He gave the ghost a five-pound note, With which she then departed. 'Twill bribe the sexton for my grave, And so I leave thee gaily, Oh bless you, wicked Captain Smith, For rescuing Miss Bailey. [/ QUOTE ] <blockquote><hr> Daelan then presented "Crafter's Poem: My Beetle" On a hot summer day My beetle ran away I could not convince him to stay All he kept yelling was 'nay'! So I walked to town alone Went there with a few stone' Sad as I was I went to the bar Told my story, response was 'har, har' 'Your beetle ran off?' Asked a merchant with a cough 'He'll ne'er be yer mate For now it's too late He found a new boss And that is yer loss You should have kept him well fed A warm home and a bed' Full of regret, I drank more beer Until the waitress said: 'My dear Get on your drunken legs and part Your beetle lives only in your heart Tomorrow a new beginning' She said without grinning 'We pray this won't be the end With God's blessings you'll find a new friend! The end [/ QUOTE ] <blockquote><hr> Crystal Rose again, wi' "The Brave Princess": In days that have long since passed, There lived a beautiful mahogany lass. An unmarried and virtuous princess, alas, She was brave, strong and bold. One morning while riding no guard around, Armed with sword should trouble abound, She heard the most horrible sound, And her nose burned of sulfur. The sky it darkened, gave her horse a fright. A dragon swooped as black as night, Grabbed the princess then out of sight. Her horse ran frightened home. The king cried, "All knights be sworn! Kill the dragon with your swords. Return me daughter for this reward, That you may marry her." The bravest knight in all the realm, Young, handsome and vain as well Declared the maid his holy grail And rode off to rescue her. The knight he climbed up rugged heights Snagged a run in his pristine tights At cavern's shaft, he saw no lights And heard no sound inside. The knight called the dragon out. But only a lady's voice came back. "I killed the dragon!," the lady shout. And stepped into the sun. The princess dressed in scraps of cloth, Her mahogany hair was all burned off. At muddy face, the vain knight scoffed, "Can you clean be for we go?" The princess still in clothes undone, Told the knight, "I work alone." The knight rode lone into the setting sun. And the princess was happy thereafter.<blockquote><hr> <blockquote><hr> Yours truly recited the tale of "Greaseham's Hunting" A barbarian once I knew - A man of wondrous fame Mighty were his pecs and thews, And Greaseham was his name His wrath was feared by all his mates, his voice with thunder shook None there were who said him nay - For Greaseham was the Cook! No warrior dread who looked with calm on blood and slaughter rude Could bear to risk the anger of the man who gave them food! And in the mountains and the plains, by town or riverfront, No view there was so rare and strange, as Greaseham on the hunt. Girt about his massive loins - an apron, made of chain His helmet was a soup pot once (and would be so again!) He carried as a macing tool, a massive wooden spoon And in his great right hand he held the Frying Pan of DOOM! Then up he swung on his broad back, a heavy, bulging pack In case the chase was over-long and he should wish to snack No horse could bear his ponderous weight, so heavy he did tread - And as he stalked, the ground it shook and all before him fled But he cared not for buck or doe, and boar and minor prey For they were small and puny; he sought far larger than they He strode with firm and steady stride into the mountains tall For there he'd heard the Dragon King lay sleeping in his hall And soon he heard the massive snores that echoed underneath And timing each footfall to match, into the lair did creep And there with scales of ruby fire, and fangs a man-length high The Dragon King with unconcern did open up one eye. "I've fought with mage and paladins, and glory-seekers all Who thought they'd take my speldid head to hang upon a wall. I've swatted down my share of thieves, and bards and rangers too But I'll admit, I've yet to kill a one who looks like you." But Greaseham was not the least distressed; he spat upon the floor "You've met a one like me at last; you'll not meet any more. I don't hold with that glory stuff, and trophies and that rot The fate you face is better far: you'll end up in my pot" "Pish-tosh!" the Dragon King replied. "Your kind is far too small, And I'm the greatest of all beasts - you couldn't eat me all" Then Greaseham roared, "You know me not, I've stomach more than you. And happily I'll prove it now, and then I'll eat you, too!" The Dragon's eyes they lit with joy, "a bet!" he cried with glee "We'll catch a herd or so of cows, and eat them you and me And if it haps that you should eat the most, and I should not - Well then it seems that I *deserve* to end up in your pot." They found the cows, charbroiled them, and then began to eat And even Great Greaseham had never served up so much meat They ate with simpleminded speed: they chomped and gulped and munched And dined and chewed and bit and snapped and swilled and supped and lunched And when the Dragon King was filled he stopped and raised his head And found to his intense dismay, Greaseham one cow ahead "It cannot be!" he tried to rage, but found he lacked the will And slumped with drowsy satedness atop a nearby hill And Greaseham stumbled over then, so full he srace could stand "I'd kill you, but it seems I ate so fast - I ended up eating my hand!" And thus ends Greaseham's hunting, Lords; my story is complete And there's the moral of the tale - Be careful what you eat! [/ QUOTE ] <blockquote><hr> Cora followed with two lovely poems about the fae:When you are out walking in the dark of night Out for a lark and the moon has hidden its luminous light If you listen closely and be very still The air may become misty and excitement you will feel As the twinkling of faerie lights shine in the dark The mystical faeries are out for a lark The beautiful faeries flit to and fro As their sweet songs brings delight to your soul If you are good and pure of heart The faeries may bless you before they depart Gently descending, bestowing a kiss Before disappearing back into the mist and this one: The faeries have never a penny to spend They havent a thing to put by But theirs is the dower of bird and flower And theirs is the earth and sky And though you should live in a palace of gold Or sleep in a dried up ditch You could never be as poor as the faeries are, and never as rich Since ever and ever the world began They danced like a ribbon of lame' They have sung their song through centuries long, and yet it is never the same And though you be foolish or though you be wise, with the hair of silver or gold You can never be as young as the faeries are, and never as old [/ QUOTE ] <blockquote><hr> Eowyn wi' a poem she wrote while in school (3 verses are missing): Brown eyed bard you sing so sweet, and you bring joy to whomever you meet With your pipes and harp of gold, you sing the tales of days of old ...The road is your home, that much I know But is there a place by the side of your fire, Where you teach me the harp, the lute and the lyre? (Followed with an enthusiastic, audience participation rendition of "Little Bunny Foo-Foo") [/ QUOTE ] <blockquote><hr> Last but not least, was Slifer Da Sky D, and in his words: "Its called "The Dragons Island" and it's not done. I wrote it in school" (my apologies for the formatting, as i was unable to refer to the original) The battle hardened half-ogre walked down the crowded street, carrying his small halfing piggyback thru the streets. Their ledgendary armor was scuffed with the fresh yellow of wyvern blood. The roar of the crowd died to a mere whisper as people noticed what the massive half ogre pulled in tow. A few feet behind them, a wagon with a massive red dragon creaked along. The crowd thinned in the middle, packing towards the outside in fear. Suddenly the crowd jumped back, as the dragon opened one eye. In its eyes, the crowd could see a hatred such as those captured in the wars of olde. His companion feared not, and shot an arrow thru the beast's hide. Watching the enchanted arrows work, the halfling slung his bow over shoulder and fell asleep, confident that the arrows would subdue the dragon now. The halfling, beforesleeping, whispered in his friends' ear, "Give Azeroth 100 more gold..." and he trailed off to sleep.... for a bit. The ogre panicked and dropped his friend as he approached the shop where they were to sell, but... it was... no.....The shop was boarded up! The ground shook as the ogre thumped his axe deep into the ground, furious that their buyer had skipped town. The ogre said to his friend, 5 feet below his head, "Hellesian, please fetch my axe for me. I'm afraid I am too stiff, worked out I suppose." Hellesian nodded and pulled it out with his nimble fingers, replying back, "It's all right Garg, you deserve any breaks you can get." Garg gently patted his friend on his head, stunningly gentle for a humanoid his size. Standing 9'6'', he was tall for his breed. Hellesian was tall for a halfing too, standing a full 4'3''! Sighing, Garg looked around and grumbled, "Lets sell this oversized barbeque," and began to tow it down the street. A hooded figure emerged from one of the alleyways, and Garg noticed that more were coming. He put down the handles, and donned his axe, ready for anything they could throw at him. And he was right. Anything THEY could, that is... Garg swung his axe with a speed that the decapitated bandits stood upright, not a drop of blood spilled from the razor sharp cuts. Garg screamed, filling the street with earsplitting sound. A bandit had shoved a dagger thru his back, somehow piercing his armor. Garg tried to spin around, but he realized that a bandit did not do this... A red spine stuck out the back of his armor, barely visible, and he noticed with great fear that the red dragon had swung its tail into him. Hellesian looked over his shoulder, and saw the street aglow with red. A great mist flowed down from above, and the glow subsided. Hellesian heard a crunching sound as the mist cleared, and he began to see shapes, shapes of men... shapes of... ZOMBIES! Hellesian scooped up a handful of arrows from the ground and began pelting the zombies with exploding arrows. Midknocking an arrow, Hellesian froze. The dragon arose behind him. The dragon was working deep, dark magic with his claws, standing erect on two legs. The prismatic ball that surrounded Hellesian began to take solid form, and it turned to stone. "Fear not," Bralx said to Garg, "Your friend will survive in temporal stasis. You, on the other hand, will suffer a death to my rotting corpses which are animated with a spell you puny humanoids have no sense to control." Garg was stunned, half with pain, half with fear. He tried to swing his axe, but he couldn't. "You bloody coward, backstabbing me! You should prove your worth, fool. Any creature wins against a set battle!" "ENOUGH OF THIS!" Bralx roared, and he healed Garg of his wound and sent his army forth...Garg swung left, right, up, down, but the rotting corpses kept coming. One of them touched his face, and he crunched over in pain, his face dissolving with a lethal poison. Beryl Gemsong: face, and he crunched over in pain, his face dissolving with a lethal poison. *wink* lvl 5 He stood upright as he backed off, and threw his axe towards the hoard, trying to slow them. The zombie hoard froze in the middle of attack, and the dragon swept the bodies aside with his tail. "I have proven my worth, mortal. Your soul shall become a tribute to my godhood!" Bralx bellowed. Garg tried to resist the olde magicks, but the unknown spell lifted him high above the street. He saw the crowds of dusk thinning, wishing he could perhaps be a simple man, be human... His attention snapped back to the ground below him as he heard a great scraping. The stone ball formed around Hellesian was cracking, and his friend emerged. He wriggled against the invisible bonds holding him, manipulating his dagger telepathicaly to cut them. The sound the dagger made was so minute, even your formidable listening ears could not hear it! *points to crowd* He wriggled his hands free as the dragon turned his attention back to Garg..... "You see my power, insolent ogre? Even your blood cannot break the bonds of my sorcery! You shall die...." Bralx growled as he spread his wings, ready to fly again... how he missed that. The windows lining the street shattered as the dragon screamed, a pillar of flame scorching the heavens. Hellesian had plunged his epic dagger, told of in legends, but kept secret, into the dragons hide. It seemed as if the whole of the dragon was pouring out thru the puncture! The dragons essence, his fire, his life, spewed out of the tiny puncture. "In Vas Nox Mani," the dragon whispered, as the ailment was cured and the wound healed. Hellesian took his dagger out and slid down the dragons back, maneuvering under his tail. "Stop hiding from me, little one," Bralx shouted as he flew to the sky. "Who said I was hiding....." Bralx heard him say as he flung his dagger upwards towards the dragon. The weapon of legend found its aim true, and it struck the dragon in his soft spot (that 1 scale) The town looked to the sky as the dragon errupted in a plume of fire, and gold began to rain from the sky. This dragon was the immortal dragon of legend, and it had taken millions of gold from the town from its yearly tribute, and its victims fell to their parents, them too taken. "Lets get the hell out of here..." Garg muttered as he fell to the ground.... [/ QUOTE ] The final vote was determined to be a tie between Cora and myself, which was settling in the dueling pit in my favor. However, I must admit to feeling badly about beating upon a barefoot elf...*frowns* Good tales and a great eve, nonetheless!