Item:Tattered song scroll (2)
|tattered song scroll (2)|
|Look:||This is a Bardic scroll, enscribed with the non-magical Bard song "The Dark Champion". It must be studied to be used. If it is being read by another, no one but that person can study it.|
|Appraised Cost:|| 125 Kronars|
|Dimensions:||? length x ? width x ? height|
|Sources:||Sold by Deeper's Tavern for 350 Lirums|
Source is Deeper's Tavern
You begin to sing "The Dark Champion", a tale of adventure, by Vogelin Wittelsbach.
- "Night by night, when darkness fell,
- The Roachherd watched, and all was well.
- Watchful, watchful, watchful e'er,
- Waiting, waiting, careless ne'er.
- The Roachherd walked the paths at night,
- Stomping insects left and right."
- "The herd was not just any man,
- No humdrum can blazed in his hand.
- He walked in secret, Crossing's knight,
- And gleamed with power before the fight!"
- "The can he shakes,
- Out fall the flakes,
- The Bugs to snuff
- Beneath the stuff!"
- "A lass walked all alone at night,
- A stalker's shadow fell acrost her,
- And suddenly, from out of sight,
- The skeeter-stalker did accost her!
- The 'herd came forth around a tree,
- The crisis he did spy,
- In bright moonlight they stood, all three,
- Mosquito, prey, and 'herd -- Oh, My!"
- "The can appears,
- The skeeter sneers!
- Nine flakes at least
- Assail the beast!"
- "The Roachherd stood victoriously,
- O'er fight that could not other be,
- While vanquished prey, with eyes afright,
- Fled the 'herd into the night."
- "The Roachherd walked alone again,
- In stillness guarding all his flock.
- This Bugbane goes not home to rest
- 'Til Dawn comes in to punch the clock."
- "He watches o'er us, gentles all,
- For things that creep, for things that crawl.
- Can ready at a single bound,
- To save a woman, man, or hound."
- "The Roachherd walks alone tonight,
- A silent pain each footstep brands,
- Dark Champion, with shoes too tight,
- His fate lies in a cobbler's hands."
- "None know his name, nor sing his praise,
- He walks by moonlight, dreams his days,
- But mama bugs, their fry to scare,
- Say, 'The Roachherd'll gitcha if ya don't beware!'"
Like an undigested tart, the last note hangs in the air.