The Tale of Neithrel
by Imbrielle

This song won the honor of second place in the first Bardic competition of
our time, sponsored by the House Scrimm, back in 348, it would have been.

Imbrielle says, "This song was written in honor of all the brave bards who
have gone on before us."

Imbrielle begins to gently strum the introduction on the instrument. A low
rocking rhythm emerges gradually growing louderand faster - reaching a
fevered pitch, and then stops abruptly.

"Shackled to the foot of the throne of blood,
Neithrel sang true,
Of dragon priests and blood filled nights,
And lives lost much too soon."

"How many songs were silenced in those hardened wyvern years,
While flames of wrath did scour our briers and our wiers?
How many voices cried out and were sacrificed for naught,
While our children hid in tree boles and rivers fed on tears?"

Imbrielle begins a slowly rolling arpeggio on the strings, the earlier furor
now abated.

"To enslave a silver voice,
And his lute handworn with care,
Dzree in warped pursuit
Enchained what she most feared."

"As followers of Sh'kial nearly peaceful though they be,
Quickly turned to zealots under lead of Dzree."

"How many songs were silenced within those hardened walls
With Neithrel in bondage as one hundred fifty summers turned to fall?"

Imbrielle picks the tempo up again, the melody rising louder while a
persistent thump is heard as her knuckles rap the body of the instrument.

"Dzree oft marched toward Leth,
And was ever beaten back.
A lone surviver told the tale,
Of creatures twisted, warped and black."

"An eerie mist rose from the ground,
Xanthous eyes peered down on high,
The lonesome soldier waves a knife,
And laughs at all she spies."

"How many songs were silenced in those frozen wyvern nights?
A futile fear destroying and sacrificing life."

Imbrielle modulates to a minor key, the melody acquiring a melancholy wail,
sending shivers up your spine.

"From his squalid quarter,
He heard the raven call,
As on the sill it landed,
It's wingspan seven feet broad."

"From glossy plumes did she appear,
As from the ledge did spring.
And Sithsia, Mad Forest Mage,
Made legend corporeal."

"Her yellow eyes did glimmer as in the gloom she stood, And loud
proclaimed her patronage o'er all the Leth bound woods."

"She laughed as guards surrounded her,
(swiftly turned to ring of smoke).
She smiled and quickly prophesied,
The end of Dzree."

"Ashes to the wind she said,
Your death I have foreseen.
Ashes to the wind she cried,
Will all you've conquered be."

"How many songs were silenced in those scorching priestly days,
When troubadours fled taverns and clerics ceased to pray?"

Imbrielle stops playing abruptly at the end of the verse, allowing the
ghostly echoes to bounce about the hall, and then raises her head and voice
to one and all.

Imbrielle recites:
"As it had been prophesied, in one year came to be,
Dzree in madness slew her guard and quickly paled.
Her citadel now bathed in blood, flowing neath her throne.
And in her frenzy, fell worn,
And died, empaths to no avail."

"How many songs she silenced in the age of worship warped?
How many graves were planted beside sadly unstrung harps?"

A single tear runs down Imbrielle's face.

Imbrielle pauses for a moment then begins singing again her mellifluous
voice rising toward the song's end.

"Neithrel then rose up,
With Savrin stong and fierce,
Reunited royal houses and built alliances of clans."

"They knit a calm across the land, though fragile at its best,
And kept their child in hiding teaching all they hoped would last."

"For all the years of silence,
And all the bards to be,
For all the dreams left broken,
And all those yet to free."

"For all the bards in hiding,
Singing softly never cease..."

"My arms I train for vigilance,
Yet raise my voice in peace."

Imbrielle sits in silence. The final notes hang weightless in the air before
gently falling, blanketing the room like the first snow of winter.