"Beer. Now there's a temporary solution." -- Homer Simpson

Poems By Hlairddid

An old druid, who lived hundreds of years before the campaign is set, wrote a prophecy of the doom of Lerinor. He was also the only person to have found one of the portals forged by the Rámalóki, for which he left a cryptic riddle as to how to find it.

Hlairddid's Prophecy

Shalt all the world be good and fair?
Thou speakest unto minds unhearing,
War doth slay yet peace divide;
When cometh change it needeth steering.

Look thou on thy lands so tender,
Midst thy mighty kingdom's reign,
King shalt fall and peace surrender,
When the balance has been slain.

Man will greed and men will hunger,
Power once shalt be regained,
Yet wisdom lost, forever sunder,
Chained once, shalt be abstained.

Thou that steereth force arcane,
Seek not the place where Yllther lies,
Thou shalt awaken Yllther's bane,
The Ulundor again shalt rise.

Heed these words, ye men of morrow,
Lest thou bringeth death and gloom,
Open not thy road of sorrow,
Seeketh not to face thy doom.

Portal Riddle

Left of river, right of hand,
Walk now hither, into land,
Angry paths be always right,
Keep the floor within your sight,
Left is backwards, not in vain,
Twist and turn, 'till cross again,
Follow down the wayward stair,
Left, right, left, right, not yet there,
Finally, we turneth round,
Follow deep into the ground,
Left is but a word of choice,
At the pedestal, rejoice,
Count from left, two thirds around,
Into passage, onward bound,
Thou shalt find a sturdy door,
Speak who founded Lerinor.

The Legacy Of The Rámalóki

Come along to the land of hope,
Ye mighty kin of sorrow,
We Rámalóki cast the rope,
To let thee enter morrow.

Our legacy is seldom told,
Though often is it seen,
For he who walks the path of old,
May change what might have been.

The eye that looks upon these words,
Shall drown the land in doom,
Despair thy fortune, swift as birds,
To ever skywards loom.

Yet hope remains, so it is said,
When darkness rules the lands,
The fate of all who live lies in,
The heir of Yllther's hands.

Forest Riddle

When the wind has fallen, and the clouds thicken,
In rainswept hills or arid plain,
Disease that unto life be stricken,
Can nature only fight in vain.
Speak to me, this plague - its name.

Mountain Riddle

When the tide has changed and dark is falling,
In no disguise the cruel winds reign,
Light may stop the night from stalling,
Light to care for and sustain.
Speak to me, this force - its name.