Whistler

This is a contract song. I will perform it in the guild tonight if I can.


The Prince’s Hound

Whistler takes his lyre and plays:
A plink kaplink a plink plink plink, a plink kaplink a plink
A plink kaplink katwang kaplink, katwang kaplink kaplink
Katwang kaplink katwang kaplink kaplink katwang kaplink,
Katwang kaplink katwang kaplink, a plink a plink-plink-plink.

He sings:
A young prince from distant lands had heard the wild wolves howl,
And thought that they’d make better friends than men who treat him foul,
He’d heard of those who chained the beasts and bent them to their will,
But such barbaric slavery he deigned unsuited to his ilk,
He sought to be companion of a friend both tried and true,
Such as one finds on sailing ships in a battle tested crew.

He journeyed to the wilderness, for such a friend to find,
But all the beasts discovered there seemed without a mind,
They met his friendly gestures with tooth and howl and bark,
Leading his bright hopes quite quick to fall to dark,
then one day he came upon a woodsman from the blue,
who told him of the place to find the brightest, best and true.

The learned sage advised the page to journey to the south,
To find the valley Ul had claimed by sign and sword and mouth,
South of the place that paths do cross, north of the dwarven kind,
Just a short hop from where it was Lineoleth laid his mines,
There, the nature knight proclaimed a trainer could be found,
With wolves he’d trained from puphood in a cave within the ground.

Whistler plucks his lyre:
A plink kaplink a plink plink plink, a plink kaplink a plink
A plink kaplink katwang kaplink, katwang kaplink kaplink
Katwang kaplink katwang kaplink kaplink katwang kaplink,
Katwang kaplink katwang kaplink, a plink a plink-plink-plink.

He sings:
Afore seeking out the trainer named, the prince pondered on his quest,
The noble hound that would be found should be armored fitting test,
From snout to tail the wolf he’d mail in fitting royal guise,
In barding meant as much to ward, as pleasing to the eyes.
So to this benefit of friend he gathered at great toll,
With his final gift for fitting friend: a gilded water bowl.

Encumbered with his sack of gifts and coin the price to pay,
The uffish prince no words did mince, but wended on his way,
Through wave and wood across the realms to seek the hidden vale,
Thus found he then the trainers den at end of mountain trail.
His coin he paid, the wolf appeared, but much to his surprise
His newfound friend could not append his boons to ban demise.

Whistler lifts his flute to his lips and plays:
T’wee-do Twee-dup.
T’wee-do Twee-dup Twee
T’wuh-do twee-dup
T’wuh-do twee-dup twoo

The bard returns to the rhythm of his song with:
He caught the beast up to his breast and swore unto his life,
That he the animal would shield, and guard from every strife.
But the nature of the beast prevailed, he found he could guard him not,
That trusted friend would not endure simply by his side to trot,
He would instead, unto the fore, his master’s health to guard,
Though he deigned allow his friend the prince, himself with magic ward.

The youth found need of battles few till he did swell with pride.
His wolf enjoined the combat dance with relish at his side,
Armed but with teeth and nature’s claw, never did his watch abate,
With such vehement vengeance wreaked the beast, none thought his wrath would sate.
So this is how the wolf did earn his Such well suited name:
To every foe the prince did face, the wolf became a Bane.

Whistler beats his drum to pick up the pace of the song:
Dum-rumadadum rumadadum rumadadum dum dum
Dum-rumadadum rumadadum rumadadum dum dum

He sings on with bravado:
They journeyed north they journeyed south, They journeyed west and east,
To distant regions of the realm, And flew above the seas.
Wide they traveled, wide they roamed, far they went afield,
With faithful friend to guard his side, the prince needed not a shield,
finally their journey led to mountains and mines below;
Which is where that fateful day, Bane fell to mortal blow.

The bard’s lyre lets loose a discordant note.
Twang! Shush-shush Twang!
He drums:
Dum-rumadadum rumadadum rumadadum dum dum
Dum-rumadadum rumadadum rumadadum dum dum

He sings on in at the faster pace:
In Tharlodein’s vein, the prince engaged a shaman and a guard,
He cautioned Bane to hold his place, his person not to ward,
But the nature of the wolf it was not to stand idly by,
When miner joined into the fray, sotoo did Bane (to make that miner cry,)
The canine’s magic warding fell unto the dwarven blow
And bright red blood upon his fur quick came his wound to show,

The prince, he could not disengage, his friend wounded, unprotected,
He tried to heal him magically, but that learning he’d neglected
He called his friend to flee the field, but the beloved faithful hound,
Though overwhelmed by many men, resigned to stand his ground.
And so with horror, pride and woe he watched his Bane fall to foe,
Unleashed he then a killing wrath, that all his rage would know.

One by one the foemen fell, till all but one was left,
One by one he repaid each blow that lead to his hound’s death,
The field cleared, his friend he found, and fell into despair,
For the wounds upon its mortal form were more than men could bear,
He cradled Bane unto his breast, his soul, it filled with grief,
As the greatest friend that man had known, at last its soul released.

Whistler blows soft notes from his flute:
T’wee-do Twee-dup.
T’wee-do Twee-dup Twee
T’wuh-do twee-dup
T’wuh-do twee-dup twoo

Fighting back his tears, the bard finishes his song:
The Prince, he Howled outrage at gods and man and fate,
Unwilling to accept His Will had led Bane to that Gate,
As his sobs within the cavern fell, his anger burned to smoke,
And something in the prince’s mind at long last gave and broke.
For his hounds death, his failed oath, he imposed himself a ban,
To speak no more in racial tongues and be more wolf than man.

Whistler concludes his song with the flute:
T’wee-do Twee-dup.
T’wee-do Twee-dup Twee
T’wuh-do twee-dup
T’wuh-do twee-dup twoo


Whistler bows.