Gannor
07-20-2006, 11:02 AM
Sir Gannor P'Artak, an Iksar of unnatural age and long worn by the world, relaxed in the warm waters of his fire-heated aviak bird bath. And as he sipped a stein of Brell's Blessed Stout, he recalled days... days of his youth. And as the sad memories of a night's prayer returned to him, the words formed in his mind. And his tongue gave them melody. And as he drifted to slumber, he sang to himself in smber rememberance, his Ode to Old Sebilis.Oh ancient halls,Of marble white,Grant me please,Shelter tonight...And in these ruins,Shall lay my head,And sleep at peace,Among the dead...Oh Sebilis,With towers tall,In granduer sits,Beyond her fall...And here I lay,Throughout this night,And will be gone,Come morning light.Oh aching soil,Oh crumbling stone,Oh please tonight,Become my home...Among the bones,Of thousands slain,I feel their grief,I feel their pain...Oh Sebilis,With steeping walls,They died for you,I hear their calls...And they shall lay,Throughout the night,And will be here,Come morning light.My wounds bleed deep,My sword gone blunt,I come to you,While monsters hunt...I have no gift,Nor precious gold,To bless your halls,Or those you hold...I need but rest,In shelter's grace,And rest alone,Within this place...And here I lay,Throughout the night,And will be gone,Come morning light.<div></div>