Djeirani Bards are known for their abiding love of flair -
Djeirani Bards in Bloodloch, though, make all the rest despair!

There was this one who had a rose she'd like to give away.
She thought it over for the better part of half a day
While tending to a perfumed bowl of flowers she had grown,
The careful fruits that came from all those seeds that she had sown.

She took that bowl and to a kobold said "Here! Take a rose!"
The kobold then replied, "Well what's it do?" "Nobody knows!"

The kobold asked, "Is there a chance this ends with lots of pain?"
The Bard just cracked a smile and, if she knew, did not explain.

The kobold thought a moment, then replied, "Let's make a deal!
If horribly I die, your bowl of flowers I will steal,
And eat them all without a thought!" Her eyes grew wide and bright!
And in response, the Bard just said, "Okay, you have the right.
If you should die from my black rose, my flowers you'll consume...
But oh, beware, and have a care: they may taste like perfume!"

That didn't stop the kobold - no, she grabbed the rose in haste,
And maybe failed to be afraid and put on hard'ning paste.

The roses's thorns cut in her skin and did their work so well,
A dozen dozen cleaners couldn't even touch the smell.

See, first the venom worked its way into her heart and brain...
And for the rest, I'd say it's just too gruesome to explain,
Except that at one point the kobold cried some bloody tears -
The kind of sight that, late at night, could stoke a lot of fears.

And as she lay there dying, we all watched on with unease:
She whispered soft her final words: "Your bowl of flowers, please!"




Penned by my hand on Gosday, the 17th of Severin, in the year 506 MA.