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Sar’s Heroes and the Shaft Giver: Part II The Dying Life Giving Tree of Riddles
Once again, in the mild (it wasn’t that cold) tundra we all stood,
We were all surrounded I tell you…by miners packs full of wood.
Slowly he gathered it all up, that grippli shaman named Frank,
To all of US who had contributed he was absolutely sure to thank.
Frank agreed to come see the shaft giving tree, just as he should,
Then he turned himself into a flea, becoming as small as he could.
He lept into Kel’s pack, because I’m sure that Durok’s was dank,
He just looks dirty and certainly has his own unmistakable stank.
Sar’s Heroes, minus Sar, fought there way through a dragon horde,
Did my best, while dodging claws, to write things down and record.
Surprisingly no rats this time, the dragons were still very bold,
During that battle with the white wryms, true valor I did behold,
Belferon, bleeding profusely continued fighting, his injuries ignored,
He staggered, but did not give ground swinging his acidic sword.
After killing many Belferon actually did fall, if the truth must be told,
He was raised from a scroll, wasn’t me though, they cost too much gold.
We safely made it out of the tundra and then we headed down,
Traveled past the mines and took the ship from the Cona Town.
The ship sailed to Stonemark where the air is much less chilled,
They tried to get me to work on the ship, told them I was unskilled.
We passed through Stonemark where the Mark wears the crown,
I myself have a following there, I have gained some small renown.
On the Spinehold Road I sang the entire time, everyone was thrilled,
Unfortunately my singing attracted bandits, and poor Monty was killed.
Filled with rage, Durok embarked on a forest bandit killing spree,
I’ve tried to get along with him, but we never seem to agree.
Durok likes to move things very quickly he won’t let us piddle,
Me, I take my time, so I can strum on my lute, or pluck my fiddle.
With the dwarf prodding we made it to the grippli life giving tree,
Out of Kel’s pack popped Frank, changning to a grippli from a flea.
The grippli encircled the tree and Frank walked right to the middle,
He spoke with the tree shortly, he said the tree told him this riddle;
The roots of history shorten,
Tools seed the past are lost,
Cats maybe combed again,
Death nurses off they future,
Sirens of the forest stand over the lost.
The grippli told the others of their need for vegetable and fruit,
I worked on the riddle naturally because I am quite astute.
Frank then decided to tell us about the lost grippli history book,
Hidden in thw Winter Tower in the Cona Mountains, worth a look.
The grippli’s gave us some supplies as we discussed the route,
It seemed that the sneaky Lipitom had made off with all the loot.
What a shame, the last of the grippli arrows and kits he had took,
I always knew he was a sneaky one, but I never thought a crook.
As Lipitom disappeared I tried to catch him with a hold person spell,
Asked him four times to share, but he was up to no good, I could tell.
Do you believe Sun accused me of making him disappear in the fog,
Our traveling plans to the tower were now stuck, by a giant clog.
I tried to explain to Sun that spells can help, can make you excel,
Cast bull’s strength on her and she attempted to send me to Hel.
What should I expect from a former pirate, a former salty dog,
I saw no reason to fight, casting greater invisibility, away I began to jog.
*All script is hastily scrawled in an illegible (and incredibly lazy) handwriting (if you can call it that).