In the shadows of "Potions of Ale", A stranger drinks, eyes sharp as nails. The air is thick, a rancid brew, With scents of blood and something new. The barkeep snarls, his gaze askew, He barks at guests, a foul-mouthed slew. Around the bar, the stench of rot, From spirits spilled and lives forgot. He looks for one not yet arrived, A traveler with secrets, thrice contrived. They speak of eggs that twitch and stir, Of dead men’s whispers, faint and slurred. There’s talk of farming, strange secrets kept, And of a man in black shoes who crept. She’s mentioned too, in whispers low, The one who watches where winds blow. A prophecy of dragon’s flame, A haven lost, a traveler’s name. Blackberries shroud the tale untold, In waiting, truths will soon unfold.
He set down the hide next to the traveling stand, "I told you I was your man!" The trader smiled, tipped his hat, Handed the traveller the knife. The traveller carved his mark deep and true, "Let no shadow pierce me through. Steel and stone may break and bend, But I am guarded till journey’s end." "They couldn't stab you in the back with that," The trader motioned the hide and laughed. The traveller smiled, asked for a drink— The trader stopped to think. "There's fresh water by the bar, About five miles, not that far. I go there when I need a sip And in the bar for a place to sit—" "Yet none have purchased a stick." NG6 black horse moves real quick
The cowhide was heavy and hot, Carrying that and his kettle— He wobbled in stride, Waved to the old lady and said bye. But Sue stopped him in his tracks, "Leaving without blueberries? I can't have that!” And dumped a handful in his kettle. The traveller thanked Sue and went along his way. He heard her soft words as he went away "By ember's glow and fire's breath, May you walk untouched by death. The winds will howl, the earth may quake, But none shall harm the path you take." With his kettle and hide to walk back, Took a right at the end of the blueberry patch, Walked two more miles, to be exact— Back to the trader who still had on his hat.
The trader went into great detail "Down the street, two miles exact Take a left at the blueberry patch You'll see a hut, a chimney to match". "An old lady named Sue That's where she's at Tell her I sent you— She'll know what I need." A crack of light splits the sky wide, Thunder rolls and shadows hide. So, the traveller started down the street, Two miles exact— Taking a left at the blueberry patch And was met by an old lady named Sue. The man in black shoes passed burdened by fate, His white horse strides with gentle gait, Shadows and light dance soft and faint "Good day," she said "How do you do?" "A good day indeed, Met the best craftsman in the land you see." The old lady smiled and said, "The cowhide is in the shed." The traveller nodded his head, Went to gather cowhide from the shed.
*In silence, they wonder at the vagaries of fate. Then... Under his breath he muses again, "What drives him on? This man of gold, With steady hand and eyes so cold, That cut through shadows in the night?"* *"But does he know?" the other says, "Is he one of them? Does he know what's happening in the realms of men? Of the talking, the planning, the preparing of the ground For the happenings that are coming When the magic abounds?"* Rook to F8, let's now dice with fate.
"I like this man," he answers back, "I'm interested, I have to say! I've watched him now for many a day. He laughs and plays and documents tack, Wields awesome tools of magic might, Writes worlds of heroes in the night... But who is this man who weaves these spells? Collects strange goods? Sings in the woods? Whistles at death? Values each breath? What is his vision? What is his mission? He's searching for something, so it seems to me, A meaning, a story, or reason to be?"* *In a whisper the Shadow replies, "Does he not know? Why does he wait? Is it his song that has numbed him to fate? How strange he has missed it—can't he see— The players each gave him a horcrux for free."*
My word! That's heavy, that's intense! Yikes! - not a kissing story, then. I was expecting spells and trees A potion brewed, a gentle breeze But no → of course → a gamer threads Intrigue, revenge and shooting heads, Flasks that spill into the kettle, Stealing a still made of metal! And now our boy begs for his life... His day begins with death and strife Valiant pawn moves to delay Defeat that comes - the end of play. He brings down the Knight on F6 Poor old King's in a terrible mix How do I write it though? PG7 takes NF6?
https://youtube.com/shorts/ehjaey3h5jU?si=Ztng7FQvr11g1pLX
Potions and Spells take a long time to brew but for always and for always to the end of time and back - this will always be the moment, and the place, - and that's a fact - that the story of the beginning of the dream that changed the world - In Yum Kaax's bounteous Kingdom In the cornfields - first unfurled As he leant against the crucible Not knowing what he'd found A Chevy 57 radiator was his Footrest on the ground .... not knowing what he'd been given by a farmer past his prime and an old man summoning rainbows from a sunny summer sky .... Not knowing that the hand of fate had vicariously arisen And blessed him arbitrarily with a message and a vision .... He was lost inside his searching He was waiting to be heard .... QN to C6, the cavalry rallies As the traveller dallies 🐎🐎🐎🐎
The Watcher sees the quick exchange 'twixt farmer and the man. Her heart skips a giddy beat, Has she perceived the plan? Eggs take very long to hatch, As slowly as seeds grow. Life doesn't wait—calamity Deals many a heavy blow. But finally, and finally— Could we dare believe? The time is now, the minion steps In, the pressure to relieve. Pawn from F7 to F6, The mess I cannot fix, But slings & arrows, sticks & stones, I'll fling into the mix. Now gallop, horsey, dance dear Queen, Perhaps go get the cleric? For in the rhythms of the dream, We'll build the esoteric.
