Tyre’Negoth:The Forests of Alknor III

The window burst again and all was pitched in black,

“Go, friend, go!” Ugido screamed as the two groped round,

Ugido raced to window and began to seal it once more,

Forcing against the wind and locking it shut while

Buul bowed sorrowful head and hoisting Doffrin in arms,

Loped off, his eyes never turning from his path.

Ugido remained, bolting door and window and taking torch,

“If I must die then I shall end you beast of dry straw,

For up you’ll go faster than lightning strike!”

With powerful swing Ugido hurled the flames at beast

But they lit upon the nearby timber, sending sparks

Across the floor and setting cabin all ablaze in flame,

Yet no end arrived for Ugido, instead more shame,

For screams rang out from corner shadow where beast sat,

But no longer beast, but Doffrin awake with fear,

For fire lit his leg and burnt his skin with out mercy!

Ugido raced to stop the flame but it raged too hot,

He doused the flames by beating blanket but only for

A second, yet it was long enough for the fire to grow

And begin to incinerate the grand cabin of poor Ugido!

He raced to lock as fire once gain lit upon Doffrin,

Yet as he reached door, he found lock melted in place.

Each window he arrived found the same, stark reality

Leapt upon Ugido, for within his safe walls he was sealed

Forever more, an irony that the evil did intend to exact.

Traders came two days later to see what held the timber,

First they did find the shattered and skinned Buul,

Dried blood covering all his scarred and peeled skin.

Next they did discover the toppled body of Bjorain,

Scewered upon the scarecrow’s wicked pole and fin’ly,

Within the ruins of the wooden fort, Ugido’s corpse,

Knelt down in sorrow and missing all but specs of flesh.

By miracle it was that Doffrin’s labored breath remained,

Buried beneath roof tile that sheltered him from fire,

The heat had scorched his skin yet he lived on.

Later he told all of the tale yet none around believed,

Til one fateful day many years later they found him dead,

Mouth sewn shut and thread woven through his skin,

And far below lay the scarecrow that Ugido’s wife made,

A flashing grin of yellowed teeth and rotting lips.”

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All tremored at the tale as they turned to gaze ahead,

The woods grew nearer and all began now to finally fear,

Yet before they could ponder the story any longer,

At Eric’s urging, one of his young pages began a tale.

That was really long…. but this one is for Saturnalia….perk up…there it is!