The Battle Of The Witch Woods.

[Benny_Fool 80]

Felix Featherfoot gathers in the center of Lenfarthing, brandishing a lute. He begins to strum the instrument, and breaks into song. 

 

A great terror reigned in the woods

north of Lenfarthing where halflings stood

 

Two delvers, and two little folk

near true evil's master stroke

watching flashing of lights

fireballs and lightning strikes

 

A great cackle, some say a screech

chilled the blood of the four in reach

A delver blown asunder by spells

a crack, a boom, and great trees fell

 

A evil presence grew in the woods

north of Lenfarthing where the halflings stood

 

Then eight heroes arrayed 

and on that grim day

they battled with honor valor and might,

then dark came, and so fled the light

 

Around them the witch's fell fire's roar

when hope itself seemed forlorn

a strange spoken being held its staff

and so light shone down the witch's laugh

 

A evil prescence lay dead in the woods

north of Lenfarthing where the halflings stood

 

As he finished his poem, a chill wind blew from the Witch Woods, and all the gathered halflings stole glances into its shadowy depths.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[Major Tom 139]

Posco Bramble stands near Felix listening to the poem, he pulls out a book and quill and begins to write the poem down as Felix sings it. After Felix finishes the poem, Posco closes the book and speaks.

"So 'hats wha' 'appened. Migh'y fine son', Felix"

[Polgrath 215]

Polgrath stands at the corner of the crowd, leaning against a fence. The Delvers shall be sung of for years to come in Lenfarthing with such an aptly talented bard as this. Clapping heartily enough with the rest he soon returns to Ac'Talarah to recover from the chaotic battle. But before he leaves a hearty enough yell echos over the crowd
"Long Live Featherfoot!"

[hex37 737]

Nienna, back at the delver base, holds the Necromancer's wand delicately in her hands, as she rests off the wounds she gained that day. She points it out away from her, and tries to do magic with it, but sighs as nothing happens.

 

"Has to be some trick to it..."

[Acornlad 206]

-Tahjeet grips the gem of the necromancer, "Malin's Heart" in his hand as he sits in the halls of the Arcane Delvers. He rubs the gem, feeling it and observing its weight.-

 

"I fought today. My light shown long enough for my brethren to finish the necromancer. But alas, dere is much ta' be done wit' da' gem.

[CraftPrime 35]

Smoke lays back on a stone wall inside the Delver ruins. The palms of his hands resting on the back of his head, with his arms contracted in the process. He looks up at the empty, cracked and lifeless ceiling as he continues to reminisce about the deadly event that just transpired. And how much he wished he would've done more. Smoke gives off a small cough not lasting even a second, but even this small push of air out of his lungs gave an equivalent strike of pain to the sides of the injured warrior. 

 

It was a hard battle, and many were definitely bruised, cut and battered more than Smoke ever was. Taking a deep breath, Smoke stood, his right arm holding onto his left side. He scours the desolate and rusty entrance room, particularly focusing on the gates. A small chuckle comes out of Smoke, even after knowing that pain comes afterwards.

 

"Heh. That was indeed fun, but if lesser injuries are to come in order, then I must get better at what I do..."

[Moot 1719]

Moved to the Great Library. It shall be sorted into appropriate category shortly.