Notes of Destiny 15
(Saol Nua Will Burn)

Blind Melon Harley
And Brash Bobby Sharkchum,
Walked along a ridge in the forest,
And looked the setting of the sun.

BMH: “Ya know Death Throat plans to torch this place,
And burn it to it’s scurvy-ed core!”

BBS: “Yeah but what’s the point of it all?
He’s always wantin’ somethin’ more.
Get me that rum! Go to this place!”

BMH: “Yes, but Death Throat knows his craft.
He be the best pirate I’ve ever known.
So shut up and don’t be daft!”

BBS: “I trust ‘im just as much as you do, Melon!
But he has us torching poppycock!
It’s like there’s no rhyme or reason to it!”

BMH: “Sharkchum, hold ya squawk!”

They quieted down instantly.
When their superior shuffled near.

Superior: “There’s no need to worry, kiddies.
Everything good right here?”

BBS: “Yes, Cap’n Leadfoot!”

BMH: “We was just discussin’
What kinda evil stuff we’ll do on Saol Nua-“

BBS: “With lots and lots of cussin’!”

Leadfoot: “Well isn’t that right interesting?
I heard something about reason or rhyme?
Which one of you two said something like that?
Oh, you know what? Nevermind…”

Leadfoot narrowed his eyes at the two,
Then paced with his hands behind his back.
He began a tone of storytelling,
And charisma he did not lack.

Leadfoot: “See all that’s before you, Mates?
This forest tall and strong?
It’s where the spirits of our world,
All are born and come from.
And all of them are born each year,
On Saol Nua’s day.
The Faerie folk of this world,
Or so the legends say,
Are the first fighters against us,
When evil attacks.
So the reason we’re torching this place, on Saol Nua,
Is something yer mind should track…
No Faerie folk, No resistance.
No tree spirits and no hope.
No pixies to brighten their resolve,
And they all slide down the slope,
Into our cunning, wicked grasp,
And Death Throat has it all!
Is that enough Rhyme and Reason?
Or do you need to be keelhauled?”

Both Pirates: “No Sir!” They both said together,
Quaking in their boots.
Leadfoot turned and walked away.
Confident in his route.
But someone else was listening to him.
And not the pirate sort.
For not too far into the brush,
Sat The Prince of Ka’Lanner, Fort.

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