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 Tales from Gallows' End 4/9/09

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Crowley



Number of posts : 102
Registration date : 2008-08-25

PostSubject: Tales from Gallows' End 4/9/09   Fri Sep 04, 2009 10:57 pm

It was a small gathering at the inn that week, but most of them brought a tale, and the place soon warmed up. A young Orc girl named Astartu began, with a story she heard from a troll.

Astartu's tale:

"There was a troll who was the lowest of the low in his tribe. He had no skills at arms, he couldn't begin to sense the spirits, he wasn't a looker. His only skill was for drawing and painting, and back then trolls rightly didn't set much by that. He lived off the tribe, for a while, then one day there was a new chief. The new chief wanted to look harder and sterner than his clay-hearted father, so the first thing he did was turn to our troll and say...

"Ya no' be geeving any'teeng to da tribe, mon. Ya mus' be going mon, an' living by yaself mon. Now ya be gone from me sights, mon!"

...so, our troll left, and he took his coloured chalks and paints with him. Now he was all alone, and not living much of a life without the tribe to support him. Even less than before. But he didn't care. He found himself a cave, and he took his paints and chalks and got to work. He drew himself a real house - and he was such a good drawer, it looked like one at first glance - and a garden full of...beautiful, colourful flowers to go with it. He drew himself some friends, and even a painted wife on the stone walls. And he was happy, for a while. "

"But soon, a scout from one of his old tribe found out about the cave with all his drawings in it, and told the chief. The chief ordered them to go back and wash the walls clean while our troll was out hunting what little food he could hunt. So our troll came back to find all his painted friends washed away, his house and garden just smudges on the stone, no painted wife for him. And he siat by himself for a while, in his cave, and then he started painting again."

"Another hunter from his old tribe came looking, and he went back and told the chief, "Boss mon, dat weakling has gone and drawn a tiger in his cave now." So the chief decided he was going to teach our troll a lesson himself, so he saddled up his raptor and rode to the troll's house. But the chief didn't come back. The hunter who'd seen the tiger before went looking for him after a time. He stuck his head in the cave, and looked around. There was no sign of the chief, or the outcast troll. But the painted tiger was still there. It wasn't like it was before, though. Before, it was skinny and lean, and our troll had practically painted its ribs showing under its coat. Now...what the hunter saw was a fat, well-fed tiger."


Yarona, of the Sparrows, then stood up with an old Elven song.

Yarona's tale.

I thought I'd share an old elven tale with you tonight. I have done some work in translating old songs and ballads lately, and I do hope I haven't butchered it too much by turning it over to orcish. The languages are quite different. The song is about an elven queen, from a time long before we became sindorei. She was known for beauty as well as wisdom only rivaled by that of her husband, the king.

Yannavine would sit among the holly and the ivy
And there in throne she'd hear the pleas of lovers vain and true
And there she'd sit serenely 'neath the thorns upon the holly
And the creepers of the ivy and the bending boughs of yew.

One day there came before her 'neath the holly and the ivy
An uncle and a nephew and the woman both did woo
Betrothed to the elder but beloved to the younger
And bitter thorns of holly grew between the two.

The Queen with rooted wisdom like the holly and the ivy
Said, "Lovers hearts will cling like vines no matter what they do,
"But blessed is the woman who accepts her wedded duty,
"Like the strong and supple branches of the bending yew."

And so she asked the uncle 'neath the holly and the ivy
Were he to have a choice what day of wedding would he choose
To have a wife in summer when all goodly things are growing
Or wait to take his lover 'til the trees stood new.

So the uncle cast his gaze amid the holly and the ivy
And greedily appraised the woman sent to be his due
"My lady queen, I'll take her when the trees have bared their branches,
"And the nights are at their longest, and diversions few."[/centre]

[center]So Yannavine sat smiling, 'neath the holly and the ivy
As maid and lover clung at what they thought was dreadful news
"My dear, you have your answer; you are free to wed your lover,
"For this man has loosed the bonds that you could not undo."[/centre]

[center]"For here where we are sitting, 'neath the holly and the ivy,
"Is much the same in winter, when the holly berries bloom,
"So go and have my blessing 'til the holly goes unclothed,
"And the creepers of the ivy, and the bending boughs of yew."

"These greenest boughs of holly, and of ivy, and of yew."


Once the last notes of Yarona's ballad had died away, the quiet elf, Amely, threw back her hood and began a sadder tale:

Amely's tale.

"This is a story from many years ago, before the Scourge... before the orcs... When the children of the sun weren't seperated... when we were the most powerfull practitioners of the Arcane on this world... When we were in league with the Humans of Arathor... this is a story of the Troll Wars."

"This one time...Trolls had attacked Suncrown Village, and me and my late brother were part of the squad they sent to defend it. Unfortunately...they thought it was a small raiding band. They were wrong, of course."

"Twenty Elven Rangers were sent to suncrown...one returned. When we had arrived at the village... everything was burning... corpses were thrown onto piles, most of them had been gnawed on... Y'see... the Amani eat their enemies in order to absorb their strength... according to their beliefs...As we entered, there wasn't any sign of the Trolls. So we did what any decent Elf would do, we dug graves for the villagers and payed them their last respects...As we had our weapons aside and what tools we could find in had, the trolls made their move..."

"Most of us fell without even realising we were under attack. I however ran for my bow, as did my brother. I, of course wanted to avenge my fallen comrades, and let my bow sing my fury... I killed at least seven trolls that day...until me and my brother were the last elves alive...As my brother fell defending me, I ran, I ran as fast as my legs could carry me...dissappearing into the woods. They chased me.. But I was too fast... I arrived at tranquillien that evening... made my report to the... Ranger General."

"Sylvanas Windrunner sent an entire batallian of elves to avenge Suncrown, but she ordered me to stay behind. I don't know why, even as to date...Bonds go deeper then the eye can tell...behind every conflict...behind every war...there will be grudges...Horrific acts that won't make it to the history scrollsJust try...To do what's best for the world...not just your beliefs." [/color]

In one of the usual attempts to lighten the mood, Vexacus then began a war-story from Arathi:

Vexacus' Tale.

In lands East of here, we call "Arathi", there was an elf. She swift, and silent. Move quickly and kill all who stand before her. But one time...an orc...powerful...he ready! In this land, in far away Arathi, the elf and her allies held the place. But our hero.... the Orc! He ready to fight! And elf think the Horde not win, but our orc, he think bettered.

"He notice where elf guard, it a stable alone in Arathi. And must hold stable! So, er... he use magic! Yes... magic! And he cast spell to swim under water. Now wait! The orc and his friend swim to the Stables. When they come out of water... They looks around! Nothing! But orc know better. As orc make ready to plant Horde flag... a shadow. Then orc sees! AN ELF! Battle is joined! Yes, it true! Elf fight like coward, and stick orc with knives! But orc strong! He has pact and... er well he strong. Elf sticks knife in him he fall. But at last, his breathe curse the elf and they fall to ground together.

"And that...is the battle of Arathi."


With no stories left to tell and the hour growing late, everyone went their separate ways.
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