3. Posted in Dark Corners, also turning up in Taverns

Posted in Dark Corners, also turning up in Taverns

  • S

    (((No music is noted on the Parchment, but the rhythm fits several popular folk-songs)))

    _As I was sitting in the square,
    I saw a few folk pass through there.
    And so I thought I’d write some more,
    About the people that I saw.

    The Streets of Peltarch, on the whole,
    Are peopled with most pleasant souls.
    So laugh, or rage. Forgive this pest.
    For all I say is just in jest.

    I poke, I probe, I test, I seek
    And if I anger, who is weak?
    Oh where to start I ask myself,
    And since it rhymes, I’ll choose an elf.
    Fair Hedia. Seductress. Tart?
    It’s certain that she’s big of heart.
    Is that the colour of all her hair?
    You tell me! You’ve all been there!

    The Streets of Peltarch, on the whole,
    Are peopled with most pleasant souls.
    So laugh, or rage. Forgive this pest.
    For all I say is just in jest.

    And how I see approaching here,
    A bard who even warriors fear.
    A shame, I think, as I watch Nate pass,
    That he’s a pole so firmly up his arse.
    Still I suppose it keeps it wide,
    For other men to slip inside.
    A lovely boy though, hair of…red.
    There’s no rhyme for orange, or so it’s said.

    The Streets of Peltarch, on the whole,
    Are peopled with most pleasant souls.
    So laugh, or rage. Forgive this pest.
    For all I say is just in jest.

    Is no-one safe I hear you cry.
    Why look, it’s Ocean passing by.
    Daughter to Deacon, friend to many.
    With her Drelan-puppy. Is he getting any?
    She stops and chats, it’s quite absurd,
    Since no-one understands a word.
    It’s not all wasted, don’t be stressed,
    She randomly just got undressed.

    The Streets of Peltarch, on the whole,
    Are peopled with most pleasant souls.
    So laugh, or rage. Forgive this pest.
    For all I say is just in jest.

    Of course we rarely see a bard,
    Invisibility makes it hard.
    Yet here comes one, all primped and pressed.
    Zyphlin is always so well dressed.
    Some say he’s dour, grim and rough,
    But I don’t think he’s all that tough.
    Always smiles, rarely frowns,
    At home he dresses in Ball Gowns.

    The Streets of Peltarch, on the whole,
    Are peopled with most pleasant souls.
    So laugh, or rage. Forgive this pest.
    For all I say is just in jest.

    Ah, Zanetar has come here now.
    Around him lackeys all kow-tow.
    He’ll clench his fists, and grunt and glare,
    Inside he’s just a cuddly bear.
    You know it’s not just idle rumour,
    He truly has a sense of humour.
    Why else would anybody sane,
    Put all their faith in a god like Bane?

    The Streets of Peltarch, on the whole,
    Are peopled with most pleasant souls.
    So laugh, or rage. Forgive this pest.
    For all I say is just in jest.

    Now it seems my words, I must take back.
    For of bardic folk there seems no lack.
    Sierra, a suddenly rising star,
    Destined it seems to perhaps go far.
    She struts her stuff in low brimmed hat.
    Asking questions on this and that.
    Papa’s already bought her a penthouse suite,
    So she’s setting her sites on a Senate seat.

    The Streets of Peltarch, on the whole,
    Are peopled with most pleasant souls.
    So laugh, or rage. Forgive this pest.
    For all I say is just in jest.

    There are so many, many more.
    But I think perhaps I start to bore.
    And if by chance I gave offence,
    You really should all have more sense.
    It is a poet’s right to poke,
    To prod, to tease, and yes, to joke.
    To Peltarch’s glory, my voice I lend,
    I am, as always, the People’s friend.

    The streets of Peltarch, so I’m told,
    Are filled with people brave and bold.
    And to them all I raise my cup,
    And promise, one day, to shut up! The Shadow Poet_


  • Chuckles at the poem

    I like this guy or gal, probably a gal. Good sense of humor, nice rhytem, biting social commentary. Now i just have to find out if it was Iydm or roland that told my dark secret of dress wearing

    Chuckles again, smirking obviously kidding, seeming in good humor and can be found singing the song at times. Though as others he takes it into his room in the college, pulling forth his mirror, and scrying the writer as well


  • Roughly a full day stuck up in the Cerulean Knights Scrying Tower Chaevre' Emerges tired but satisfied, she reviews the poem again chuckling to herself before she then takes it to a torch and burns it anyone who asks if she discovered who the poet was would simply get a simple yes but nothing further to reveal the identity of the poet

    If she wanted to tell you she would leave her name on the poem grins having left a subtle hint and wanders off elaving the curious monkeys to their thoughts

  • The Halfling Defence League

    @4bd070dd99=ShadowPoet:

    And since it rhymes, I’ll choose an elf.
    Fair Hedia. Seductress. Tart?
    It’s certain that she’s big of heart.
    Is that the colour of all her hair?
    You tell me! You’ve all been there!

    ((As much as I love your poem, I should point out elves do not have body or facial hair I believe.))


  • The assertion about Zanetar's sense of humor seems to well warranted, for the comments about Nate and Zyph amuse him greatly.

  • S

    _I sit here, contemplating sin
    Mine for once
    I never claimed to be a saint
    No matter how my words are taken
    I wonder should they be said at all
    An idea never really mine
    And yet how else to reach the people
    That I believe should know my mind
    I cannot talk, my lips are sealed
    I am no politician, no great Orator
    I watch the world
    Confusing me
    I try to understand how I feel
    And all I do is tie myself in knots
    Torn so many ways
    Some right and some I know are wrong
    And I resist
    So far
    I find though that these words all rush now
    I ought to stop
    Perhaps I will
    If I improve nothing but my own heart and mind
    Then there is no point to this
    I want more
    Not for me
    I have enough
    Too much perhaps
    I want the world to be a better place
    To have made it brighter
    I understand the theory
    That you cannot make everyone happy
    And I am tired
    But still I try
    And try
    And…

    Enough
    This introspection
    If I have something to say I will say it
    Forgiveness will come
    Or not
    Until then
    Humour
    Anything to hide the blackness I feel inside
    The city will not be made better by the darkness in my thoughts and heart
    But only by enlightenment
    Only by my lighter side

    Forgive me

    Or not_

    (((Unsigned and left in a corner of the Mermaid. Perhaps by accident. Put up by a patron who recognized the handwriting)))


  • ((Heh…way to beat me to it, meta. Oh well.))

    Oreth, curiousity getting the better of him, also grabs one of these pieces of parchment. He carefully replaces it by copying the poem back onto a piece of shoddy vellum and tacking that to the wall. He takes the parchment back to camp with him and sits in front of a small, still pool of water, preparing himself to scry


  • @e175b40c3c=metagod:

    Chaevre' reads the new poem and bursts out laughing finding something funny from each verse, curious to know who the poet is she is sticken with a thought, she takes on of the poems down and sticks it in a scroll case, she then is seen headed into the Cerulean Knights Tower where she is not seen leaving after for many hours, she spends a couple hours preparing the scrying chambers before she casts the spell of Scrying using the poem as a focus

    ((the dc for scrying this is 20 as i have no knowledge of the poet, and a +8 mod for having the poem as a focus, a hawks eye and copper are the material components i can use as they are both easily found in narfell, casting takes 1 hr and i would assume i take as long as it takes to succeed, the subject gets an int check dc 20 to detect the scrying each attempt i make, ill need either a dm or the player who did the postings to witness the rolls, can pm me for more info ))

    According to the 3.0 SRD, Scry also has a WIL save. The DC for that would be 10 + spell level + Stat modifier.

  • Peltarch Far Scouts

    Reading casually over the poetry
    Sierra breaks into a grin
    To keep an identity secret
    Don't tell where you've been

    Best not to repeat one thing
    told only to a friendly few
    especially something regarding
    an apartment that's new


  • Chaevre' reads the new poem and bursts out laughing finding something funny from each verse, curious to know who the poet is she is sticken with a thought, she takes on of the poems down and sticks it in a scroll case, she then is seen headed into the Cerulean Knights Tower where she is not seen leaving after for many hours, she spends a couple hours preparing the scrying chambers before she casts the spell of Scrying using the poem as a focus

    ((the dc for scrying this is 20 as i have no knowledge of the poet, and a +8 mod for having the poem as a focus, a hawks eye and copper are the material components i can use as they are both easily found in narfell, casting takes 1 hr and i would assume i take as long as it takes to succeed, the subject gets an int check dc 20 to detect the scrying each attempt i make, ill need either a dm or the player who did the postings to witness the rolls, can pm me for more info ))