Passed around by bards and travelers story books hold the history of Myth, legends of Terra, religious offerings, moral lessons or just plain entertainment.

Farmer's Horse

First recited by Polemics the Bard. This story is about how you can't tell if events will bring good or bad fortune. Go with the flow.

A poor Drow's horse was slain by a stray arrow.  This story is not about that.  A rich man was blessed with a room full of cake.  This story is not about that either.  But there are horses and cakes.  Here goes...


A poor farmer's horse ran off into the land of the Brigands.  The neighbors offered their condolences.  The farmer said, "How do you know that isn't good fortune?"

After a few months the horse returned with a Brigand horse of excellent stock.  All the neighbors offered their congrats.  The farmer said "How do you know this isn't a disaster?"


One horse performed the Meeting Dance on another.  They mated.  The family became rich in horses.  The farmer's son spent much time riding them. One day he fell and broke a leg.  All of the neighbors offered their condolences.  The Farmer said "How do you know this isn't good fortune?" Another year passed, the Brigands invaded the lands.  All able bodied young men were conscripted... nine tenths of them died in the war.  The Farmer's son being lame was exempt.  He stayed home and enjoyed his cake.


In ending, I ask you: Who can tell how events will be transformed?

The Emperor's Message

First recited by Polemics the Bard. Possibly a religious offering from Barlow, the imagery of the Moon and whispered messages are used in this story.

The emperor—it is said—sent to you,

the one apart, the wretched subject,

the tiny shadow that fled far,

far from the imperial sun,

precisely to you he sent a message from his deathbed.

He bade the messenger kneel by his bed,

and whispered the message in his ear.

And before the entire spectatorship of his death—

all obstructing walls have been torn down

and the great figures of the empire stand in a ring

upon the broad, soaring exterior stairways—

before all these he dispatched the messenger.

The messenger set out at once;

a strong, an indefatigable man;

thrusting forward now this arm, now the other,

he cleared a path though the crowd;

every time he meets resistance he points to his breast,

which bears the sign of the moon;

and he moves forward easily, like no other.

But the crowds are so vast;

their dwellings know no bounds.

If open country stretched before him, how he would fly,

and indeed you might soon hear

the magnificent knocking of his fists on your door.

But instead, how uselessly he toils;

he is still forcing his way

through the chambers of the innermost palace;

never will he overcome them;

and were he to succeed at this,

nothing would be gained:

he would have to fight his way down the steps;

and were he to succeed at this,

nothing would be gained:

he would have to cross the courtyard

and, after the courtyard, the second enclosing outer palace,

and again stairways and courtyards, and again a palace,

and so on through thousands of years;

and if he were to burst out at last through the outermost gate—

before him still lies the royal capital,

the middle of the moon,

piled high in ice towers and shaded paths.

Nobody no one may climb down from the moon,

least of all with a message from one who is dead.

You, however, sit at the carin stones

and dream of the message when evening comes.

Upon the Moon the messenger sings your message towards Terra

The sound, ever faint for its travels,

may only be found as echoes in the songs of the Bard.

The Bard carries your message.  

Listen to his songs.

Vision Quest of Healing

First recited by Polemics the Bard. Written for the abandoned and orphaned youths and other hurt souls.

There are not many persons who know what wonders are opened to them in the stories and visions of their youth

for as children we listen and dream

We think half formed thoughts

And as men and women we try to remember

We are filled with the poison of life

But some of us awake in the night with strange phantasms of enchanted lands

Gardens, fountains and seas under the sun

Black Bird having sang my song put me back to a place where I can dream again

This eve I tell you some of what I have seen

while I dreamed on the shore line of Black Sands.

Close your eyes now and journey with me

We go down, down, down

Past the dark and shapeless

Past the sea of undreamed visions

There is a light

You are a in a field of short grain

A baby is at your feet

Pick that baby up off the ground

Hold it high above your head

Notice the orb of Terra over the baby's shoulder

floating in the lightless void

you are the baby

look down upon your former self

feet firmly planted on the moon

The ruler of the moon will perish soon

Having sent his message to someone so far away

As he leaves this existence

He will take your pains

the dark trapping stuck to your heart

your sentimental blisters

your emotional defects

your bad memories

Become your adult self again

Push your baggage into the moon's wheat field

Hug your new self

Wish yourself the luck of the Red Queen

Toss yourself back up

up, up, past the undreamed dreams

and past the half images

Return to the Tavern of Estvale.

Have a drink.

Tip your bard.

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