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Portales
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Sar’s Heroes and the Shaft Giver: Part I Dire Rat Fear**

LXXIV
There were few patrons at the bar, but the inn was fully staffed,
We all sat in the private room drinking our wine and draught.
I was not drunk, I assure you, as I was only drinking herbal tea,
Five of us there were in total; Durok, Belferon, Kel, Lipitom and me.

Just as I finished telling a joke, everyone but the dwarf laughed,
Two gripplis entered and told us of their dying tree of giving shaft.
Searching the land for Sar or any other hero by their own decree,
“Kel is a hero, she will get the shaft,” I exclaimed, “this I guarantee.”

LXXV
As the grippli brothers explained things, I began to understand,
It seemed their trouble was great and their need oh so grand.
No more shafts of wood their precious giving tree would spawn,
And the grippli shaman who could help the tree, was now gone.

It seemed all of our roles, even mine, were beginning to expand,
We had to save the tree and find the shaman lost in the highland.
Of course the patrons would help, that conclusion was forgone,
And so the four brave heroes and Durok set out, just before dawn.

LXXVI
We traveled north of Cona, through dusty rock and slippery ice,
And through a hardened frozen wall Kel’s magical sword did slice.
We weaved a path through a rocky maze, there were no signs,
Difficult to see, until I lit my lantern, through the darkness it shines.

Sun had now joined us, so there were six of us to be precise,
Wandering in the ever narrowing canyons, a great tightening vice.
We made our way to an ice covered cave, past the Cona mines,
The cave was eerily empty, save for the killer assassin vines.

LXXVII
Then to the tundra we traveled, where ground is hard and flat,
Where all are ruled by the dragon and their masters, the evil rat.
We were beset by dragons, from the sky they began to appear,
Never have I seen so many beasts together in all my bardic career.

Kel, Belferon and Durok charged forward to engange in combat,
All of a sudden I started shaking, don’t remember much after that.
I was told later my skin went pale and my eyes began to tear,
Yes I had fallen victim to the worst kind of terror, dire rat fear.

LXXVIII
I regained my wits, luckily I was not completely overcome,
You must confront your deepest fear, you can never succumb.
And so I had narrowly slipped my fragile neck from the noose,
Earlier I’de sold my lesser belt of guiding light, I had no excuse.

Seemed the more perilous things had gotten, further we had come,
Many wyrms fell, as dragon slayers my companions had all become.
And then in the tundra, fishing in a pond, we found that old recluse,
Said he would help us too, if 13 bags of firewood we could produce.

*All script is hastily scrawled in an illegible (and incredibly lazy) handwriting (if you can call it that).

**The name Kel is crossed out