The Lays of the Thirteen Claws League

Prologue
So, let me, first, introduce my matchless
friends with whom I league in bloody battle:
Lady Miao, the felinid sword mistress;
Davin, the doctor of the mystical;
and Hemmu, the warrior with dreadful
rages; and then the great knight Sir Yvor;
next comes the master of the magickal:
half-orcine wizard, Adam Aesalor;
and myself: together we wage such fruitful war.

Each one is the sort of person who braves
danger for love, law and noble causes.
Together we entered the maze-like Caves
of Chaos and fought chthonic forces
and cultists of necromantic sources
- they ran and we followed in hot pursuit:
we thwarted them and their evil causes:
gathering their lives like autumnal fruit
and, incidentally, picking up lots of loot.

So, in those caves we entered into talks
- where my story with the party begins –
to bring the heads of two chieftain orcs
- which we did through the easiest of wins -
to the lair of a horde of hobgoblins:
who freed their prisoners: a good result,
a tale that we can tell in many inns,
and just the start of the mighty tumult
caused as we hunted down a necromantic cult.

I don’t think there’s need here to rehearse
of how we fought flying skulls, skeletons,
zombies, wights and those walking cadavres
we were not scared when amongst piled high tuns
we found where the gelatinous cube runs
- devouring prey like a walking cancer
that pursues, envelopes, and foully stuns
the unwary traveller or chancer
who steps into the lair of the necromancer.

I won’t tell you of the dreadful hellhounds;
nor of that awful swarming of demons
in which that evilest deep barrow abounds;
nor of the danger we found from gorgons
which could turn flesh, blood, bone and organs:
- especially poor Emberwood’s – to stone:
let’s say it was a place of ill-omens.
not the sort of place you’d go to alone:
but did I mention the jewel encrusted throne?

The best thing we carried away was life,
- as I’m trying to make clear in this verse:
in the caves we faced the most deadly strife.
we suffered tribulation and reverse.
We found such horrors that were themselves worse
than fell battle, dry thirst, hunger, hardship:
Davin Emberwood was struck by a curse
lying in wait in that place of evil worship
but we managed to overcome that, through friendship.

Sir Yvor got turned into a statue:
Miao got herself tangled up in a net,
and both times young Bert came to their rescue
(and they saved me in turn, and they will get
the chance to do so, again). I regret
nothing: I know fortune favours the bold:
and fortune’s what I found: jewels - loose, inset
in chalices or hidden - which we sold:
beauty’s fine, but it is better to have gold.

Then we set off to return in glory:
our mission to stop the cult was fulfilled
- I’ll happily leave that in my story –
that was because we were strong, sage, and skilled
and proud of the number foes we’d killed.
In Lararno, though, we found no new peace:
we learned that crime in that town was distilled
in a single mob determined to fleece
its people: by which, you’ll have guessed, I mean the police.

Miao challenged the captain to a duel;
Davin tried to rescue a street urchin;
I investigated the, er, brothel
- you know, to find out the secrets within -
we decided we needed to begin
our journey again: we quit that city
before the dirty cops done us all in:
Adam’s magick sped the alacrity
with which we fled from that den of iniquity.

We were in the forest when moons aligned:
and we were met in war by bestial men,
our hearts beat with such ardent joy to find
ourselves in sanguine-just struggle again:
steel hewed flesh and bone of beast folk, and then
we paused the dark melee to look and see
that once more the field was ours, and when
we offered their survivors our mercy
sadly their shed blood had to bitter our victory.

  Next we found ourselves chasing a giant
across winding country lanes and fields
but then he turned out to be compliant:
helping in one of those fights where no one yields:
smiting with his club against Volgan shields.
In that fight we nearly lost wild Hemmu,
She unleashed the great berserk that she wields
and so too many times she was run through:
choking to sleep to save her was all we could do.

So, we fought beneath an empathic sky
Miao with sword, Mr Stabby, ran amok
Sir Yvor stood proud and piled bodies high
around him: they gave the Volgans a shock
but their valour was not able to block
all the fell Volgan blows (although they tried):
after the battle, when time came to take stock,
the toll had been dreadful on either side
most of us had been cut down and the giant died.

Those martial feats will live forever
known as The Battle of the Giant’s Field.
After, we sought sanctuary to recover
and found folk magick to get Hemmu healed.
As to the future, brave Yvor revealed
a challenge, a need to heed honour’s call
so a further pact among us was sealed
we would scatter to learn and arm, then all
return to face the foul Lich Lord under Marsh Hall.