In the Cities of the Dead

A stench of orcs

Being the Chronicle of Corwin of Westrun, Erathis' Lightbringer

[This diary excerpt somewhat clumsily attempts to imitate a lyrical style found in old Empire sagas.]

Dispatching some dread orc-kind / who dragged a gristly burden
We followed back their footprints / unto a filthy warren.
Dox, disguised and monstrous / o’er death-spikes deftly clambered
And saw the situation / a pig and several warriors.
But Dox was caught! And quickly / despite his clever tongue-ruse
Was perilously pounded / with no-one placed to aid him!
First, he freed the war-pig / but found it no great ally
So all rushed to the rescue / though spikes rent some who entered.
Soon battle turned to bloodshed / and we, belabored, struggled.
Gored by tusks and trotters / and torn by rude orc weapons
So redly ran our lifeblood / the Raven Queen we courted.
Yet Thorgrim’s curses threatened / the foes who thought him harmless
And Anakat, once angered / took damage aimed at others
Rook, with stealth and shadow / struck out at all who faced him
And Dox bright daggers wielded / and drove them into orcflesh
By gods’ grace this cleric / was granted holy power
So slowly, yes, but surely / we proved to be the stronger
And though our wounds were grievous / we won the savage battle!
A single orc ran fleeing / and fear that he’d bring trouble
Made some of us uncertain / and we shivered in our armor.



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