A Song of Wine

(Verse 1)

In vineyards green where grapes do grow,

The winekeeper tends row by row.

With careful hands and loving care,

He tends the vines with utmost flair.

(Chorus)

Oh, the wine, so sweet and fine,

In every bottle, its secrets entwine.

With every sip, our troubles fade,

In the magic of wine's serenade.

(Verse 2)

From sun-kissed hills to valleys deep,

The wine flows in a gentle sweep.

With every harvest, the grapes do yield,

The nectar of the vine, so richly sealed.

(Chorus)

Oh, the wine, with hues so bright,

In crystal glasses, it brings delight.

With every taste, we raise a cheer,

To the wine that brings us near.

(Bridge)

In cellars cool where barrels age,

The winekeeper tends his heritage.

With oak and time, its flavors blend,

In every glass, a tale to send.

(Chorus)

Oh, the wine, with bouquets bold,

In every bottle, its stories unfold.

With every pour, we honor the vine,

In the winekeeper's grand design.

(Outro)

So let us raise a toast today,

To the wine that lights our way.

For in its depths, we find our song,

In the winekeeper's legacy, forever strong.

The Hendriad

(Verse 1)

In lands of fire and mountains tall,

Cavaliers heed the ancient call.

For in our hearts, a longing burns,

For wine, women, and songs, we yearn.

(Chorus)

Oh, the wine, like liquid gold,

In goblets raised, our tales are told.

With every sip, our spirits rise,

To reach the stars, beyond the skies.

(Verse 2)

And in the arms of women fair,

We find our solace, without a care.

Their laughter rings like silver bells,

In their embrace, our hearts do swell.

(Chorus)

Oh, the women, with beauty rare,

Their gentle touch, beyond compare.

In their eyes, we see the stars,

As we dance beneath the moonlit bars.

(Verse 3)

And let the songs, like soldiers roar,

Echo through the mountains, evermore.

For in their melody, we find our voice,

And in their rhythm, we rejoice.

(Chorus)

Oh, the songs, with power untold,

In their embrace, our hearts enfold.

With every note, our spirits rise,

To reach the heavens, beyond the skies.

Wine, Women and Song

(Verse 1)

In castles tall where treasures gleam,

We Vyrum bask in golden dream.

But above all, our hearts do soar,

For wine, women, and songs galore.

(Chorus)

Oh, the wine, so rich and red,

With flavors bold, like fire spread.

In goblets raised, we toast the night,

To pleasures sweet, our hearts take flight.

(Verse 2)

With arms outstretched, we take to flight,

In search of revelry, pure delight.

For in the arms of women fair,

We find our solace, without a care.

(Chorus)

Oh, the women, with eyes so bright,

Their laughter fills the darkest night.

In their embrace, we find our rest,

In love's embrace, we are blessed.

(Verse 3)

And let us not forget the songs,

That echo through the castles long.

For music lifts our spirits high,

And fills our hearts, up to the sky.

(Chorus)

Oh, the songs, so sweet and true,

With melodies that ring anew.

In harmony, we find our peace,

As our joyous voices never cease.

Valkauna's Song

(Verse 1)

In mountain halls where stories flow,

We dwarves seek honor, high and low.

For in our hearts, a longing burns,

To prove our worth, in love's return.

(Chorus)

Oh, to be worthy of a mate so fair,

With courage strong, beyond compare.

To win her heart, we'll face our fears,

And show our strength, through blood and tears.

(Verse 2)

With axe in hand and armor bright,

We journey forth into the night.

To battle foes and claim our prize,

To prove our love, beneath the skies.

(Chorus)

Oh, to be worthy of a mate so fair,

With loyalty deep, beyond compare.

To stand as guardians, brave and true,

And win her trust, in all we do.

Numli's Prize

(Verse 1)

In halls of stone where hammers ring,

We dwarves toil and gems we bring.

But above all, our hearts do yearn,

For Numli's prize, our souls do burn.

(Chorus)

Oh, mithril bright, so strong and true,

With silver sheen, we honor you.

In fiery forges, we shape and mold,

To craft our treasures, pure as gold.

(Verse 2)

Through depths of earth, we delve so deep,

In search of Numli's secret keep.

For in its veins, our dreams do lie,

To forge our legacy, reaching high.

(Chorus)

Oh, mithril bright, so strong and true,

With veins of silver, our hope anew.

In armor and in weapons bold,

We find our worth, our story told.

Most Noble

(Verse 1)

In Strongholds where mountains rise,

We Lod with noses of noble size.

For our noses are strong and true,

A trait we cherish, through and through.

(Chorus)

Oh, the nose, so proud and grand,

With curves and twists across the land.

A beacon of our heritage,

A symbol of our noble lineage.

(Verse 2)

With noses keen, we sniff the air,

Detecting scents both foul and fair.

For though our noses may be large,

They guide us like a guiding barge.

(Chorus)

Oh, the nose, so proud and grand,

With nostrils flared, a sight so grand.

A marvel of our ancestry,

A source of Lodish revelry.

Glittering Light

(Verse 1)

In caverns deep where shadows play,

We gnomes seek treasures night and day.

For gems and jewels are our delight,

They shimmer and sparkle in the light.

(Chorus)

Oh, the gem, so bright and fair,

With colors rare beyond compare.

Diamonds, rubies, emeralds too,

Our hearts are drawn, our dreams come true.

(Verse 2)

With pick in hand and lanterns bright,

We delve into the earth's dark night.

To find the gem that calls our name,

And add it to our hoard's grand claim.

(Chorus)

Oh, the gem, so bright and fair,

With opals glowing, a wondrous glare.

Sapphires, ambers, a sight to view,

Our hearts are drawn, our dreams come true.

The Ballad of the Feast

(Verse 1)

When evening falls and stars do shine,

We halflings gather, hearts a'pine.

For the feast awaits with savory scent,

A banquet fit for merriment.

(Chorus)

Oh, the feast, so grand and bold,

With dishes piled, a sight to behold.

Meats and pies, and stew so deep,

Our hunger and hearts, they both do keep.

(Verse 2)

We fill our plates with hearty fare,

With every bite, we've not a care.

For in this moment, we find our bliss,

With every taste, we seal our kiss.

(Chorus)

Oh, the feast, so grand and bold,

With desserts sweet, our fate is told.

Cakes and puddings, a wondrous heap,

Our hunger and hearts, they both do keep.

A Call for Second Breakfast

In the morning light, when the sun doth rise,

We halflings wake with hungry eyes.

For though we ate at dawn's first light,

Second Breakfast is our true delight.

(Chorus)

Oh, the joy of Second Breakfast fair,

With bacon sizzling in the air.

Eggs and toast, and honey sweet,

Our hunger and hearts, they both do greet.

(Verse 2)

We gather 'round with friends so dear,

To share in laughter and in cheer.

With mugs of ale and cakes so fine,

Second Breakfast is a feast divine.

(Chorus)

Oh, the joy of Second Breakfast fair,

With pastries piled beyond compare.

Jam and butter, warm and neat,

Our hunger and hearts, they both do greet.

The Maiden

The other day, near a bush,

I saw a lovely maiden,

She was fairer than the morning dew,

And sweeter than the song of birds.

Her eyes were like sparkling stars,

Her smile like the dawn's first light,

And her voice like a gentle breeze,

That whispered secrets in my ear.

I longed to approach her,

And declare my love so true,

But alas, she vanished like a dream,

Leaving me with only memories.

Yet still, I cherish the moment,

And hold it dear in my heart,

For in that brief encounter,

I found a love that will never depart.

Compulsion to Song

I must sing, I am compelled

For it is my nature and my joy.

Through song, I express my heart's desires,

And find solace in its melodies.

Though life may bring me sorrow,

And trials may weigh heavy on my soul,

I will lift my voice in song,

And let its beauty lighten my burdens.

For in music, I find freedom,

And in song, I find release.

So I will sing with all my heart,

And let my voice ring out across the land.

Song of the New Flower

When I see the new flower

Blooming in the meadow,

It reminds me of my love,

Who is as fair as the spring.

Her beauty is like the blossom,

Radiant and pure,

And her presence fills my heart

With joy and longing.

But like the flower,

Her beauty fades with time,

And I am left with memories

Of the love we once shared.

Yet even as the petals fall,

And the flower withers away,

My love for her remains

Everlasting and true.

Sweet Lovely Janie

Sweet lovely Janie, 

For whom all men long, 

fairest in all lands, 

my heart is yours alone. 

Eyes like stars of night, 

smile like sun's warm rays, 

Voice a gentle song, 

That soothes my troubled soul. 

 I am a humble servant, 

At your beck and call, 

For you have my heart, 

I am yours to command. 

 So sweet lovely Janie, 

Do not overlook me, 

I am yours entire, 

And will love you always.

Song of My Courage

I shall sing for my courage,

For love has given me strength,

To endure the trials and tribulations,

That life may bring my way.

Though my heart may ache with longing,

And my soul may yearn for solace,

I will raise my voice in song,

And let it soar above the clouds.

For music is my refuge,

And melody my salvation,

In its embrace, I find peace,

And the courage to face each day.

So I shall sing with all my heart,

And let the world hear my voice,

For in song, I find my courage,

And the strength to carry on.

I Will Sing

This is a human song usually played by bards and minstrels in taverns and other places of merriment. It proves so popular that most performing it are content to let the crowd sing the lyrics.

I must sing, and I will do so,

For I feel the urge within me,

Though it brings me both joy and sorrow,

I cannot keep silent, nor would I want to.

For love has captured my heart,

And I am bound by its sweet chains,

I cannot resist its power,

Nor can I escape its embrace.

So I will sing of my love,

And let my voice ring out,

For even though it may bring me pain,

It is a pain I gladly endure.

I will sing of love's beauty,

And its bittersweet sting,

For in the end, it is all I know,

And all I wish to share.

Mon Maiwa

 This song is the work of Guidro of Peakshadow, a bard who submitted the song as his master work at Ald Ciula. It was written in 5825 and remains a favorite love song played in formal settings. While it is a human song, it makes use of many words from High Speech and is thought to have Vyrum influences.

In Mon Maiwa when the gentle breeze 

Caresses the branches with its touch, 

And the little birds in nearby trees 

Sing sweetly to their own feathered mates 

Baere comes and stirs the heart to joy, 

As flowers bloom and the grass turns green, 

And in the meadows, the gentle deer 

Leap and play with all their graceful steps. 

In Mon Maiwa when all is reborn, 

And the world is bathed in Spring's new light, 

Love awakens in every heart, 

And fills the air with fragrant delight.

Beylik of Jadiya

The Beylik on the North Rim of the Sea of Sand is called the "City without Smiles." It's inhabitants are supposedly forbidden by an ancient curse from indulging in laughter. They discourage it in visitors. Though none would tempt it, the inhabitants earnestly believe that a Djinn will respond to smite those that do. Jadiya is well known for its incense production.

Beylik of Arah

The Beylik of Arah lies on the Western edge of the Khard. It is a welcome respite for travelers, but it only allows them in the bazaar and the lower east quarter -- that portion between the lower garden and the barracks. There is a great communal pool there called Janib's Mercy, named for the god of suffering whose avatar was slain there. The rest of the city is off-limits to visitors.  Arah is well known for its slave market -- a place where people mortgage their lives by selling themselves for fixed periods (no more than 7 years) into slavery. It is also known for its external pool which offers traveling mercy to those who arrive after nightfall when the Beylik's gate is closed tight.

Beylik of Bakub

The Beylik of Bakub on the Western edge of the Khard is well-known as the "City of Two Spires". The College of Abi dalzim is here, but so is the crystal-topped scrying tower of the Bey himself. He is both an avid stargazer and an astronomer of some note.

The Cadashrim

​The Cadashrim are those people recognized for having taken a specific temporary religious vow. While the word is specific to High Speech, it is known in every land and realm. 

The fact that the vow is universal indicates that it predates any of the known religions, and is perhaps one of the oldest rites or practices known. Some say its origin stretches back to the time of the Halfling Empire. 

The Cadashrim agree to bathe a dead body and keep it company until it is buried or otherwise disposed of. During the time that they serve, they will not speak nor abandon the dead. It is often considered a kind of atonement for misdeeds. In many places the Cadashrim are a kind of permanently staffed mortuary. In others, the assignment is taken on an ad hoc basis.

The vow is taken simply -- by disrobing, bathing, and then entering the place where the dead are kept with the intention to remove the body, clean it, and then guard it until its resting place is prepared. 

The Legend of Arak

Legends say that there exists a world shrouded in mystery and sorrow, once known to its inhabitants as Arak. Once, long ago, it was a paradise of verdant jungles, teeming with vibrant life and blessed with vast bodies of water that shimmered like jewels under the sun's gentle caress. The air was thick with the sweet scent of exotic flowers, and the harmonious melodies of myriad creatures filled the air.

But the whispers of power and ambition, wielded by the battle wizards of Arak (stratomages), cast a shadow over this idyllic realm. Fueled by their insatiable hunger for supremacy, these wizards harnessed the ancient forces of mana, drawing upon its boundless energy to fuel their relentless pursuit of dominance.

In their reckless pursuit of power, the stratomages unleashed cataclysmic spells of unimaginable magnitude, siphoning the very essence of mana from the world itself. Slowly, the lush jungles withered and died, the once-mighty rivers ran dry, and the fertile lands turned to barren wastelands of shifting sands.

The mana, drained from the world, left behind a desolate expanse reminiscent of the arid deserts and harsh sands. Endless dunes stretched as far as the eye could see, scorching under the relentless gaze of the twin suns that hung high in the sky. The once-proud civilizations of Arak crumbled beneath the weight of their own hubris, leaving behind only whispers of their former glory and the giant obelisks, each graven with their ancient code: the Anemoth Nomos.

Now, the sands of Arak whisper tales of lost civilizations and forgotten magic, buried beneath layers of time and regret. The only remaining inhabitants eke out an existence amidst the harsh desert landscape, with only fading memories of a world that once thrived with life and vitality.

The Edict of Supremacy in Faith

The following instrument is the recognized pact between the Patriarch of the Church of Westrun, the Grand Druid of the Continuum and their Graces, the Monarchs of Westrun in Congress. These Monarchs include the High King of all mankind in Westrun, the Kings of Collonia, Rath, Menea, and Bolden; the First Citizen of Treft, the Marksmarshal of Balduren and the High Priest Elect of Talir; the reigning Monarchs of Oromir, Festog, Mistwood, Deepwood, Greywood, Curwood, Forest Hills, Hilldale, and the recognized Steward of Dynkyr.

All parties agree that the Church of Westrun is the successor of the Temple of the Ten Divines.

Notwithstanding the aims, documents, canons and faiths of man and of the Besnir alike; nothing in any of them shall be construed to apply across the known races: including Humans, Els (elves), Stoneborn (dwarves), Lod (gnomes), Hoflin (halflings). For this reason no proselytizing will occur between races, nor converts accepted from races alien to them. No religious strictures shall be imposed by one race upon the other, nor shall blessings and prayers be offered (for good or ill) upon one race by another, unless they be expressly sought by an individual in question.

In the matter of deaths and burial, it is agreed that remains of those deceased entrusted to the clergy of any race, will be returned to the nearest Holy Ground of relevance, in the most expeditious manner possible.

To this document, we afix our signatures and bind all our loyal subjects.

Rangers

A Ranger is neither a constable nor a legionary. He fits no other category of lawman nor soldier. He is a product of sheer necessity, born of the goblin wars and nurtured by the knowledge of the curates. He was commissioned by the King of Menea to hunt goblinkind and patrol the frontier. While that king intended that there would be just 100 of him, it would be years before they could boast that strength, and years later that they exceeded it.

In those days, the life expectancy of a Ranger was notoriously short. The average age of the Ranger, even given their founder's advanced age was just 19 years old. None expected to live to see 25 and those expectations were well-founded. While hundreds of young men had heard the call and responded, their continuous sacrifices kept their numbers around 50-60 strong for many years.

The Rangers were provided nothing in way of weapons, armor or steeds. They were not supported by the crown, but expected to take their payment from the hostiles they encountered. They were not given food nor supplies, but relied on their ability to hunt and forage.

From that day until this, they have had neither uniform nor patron. There is no rank structure and little visible discipline. Their clothing is haphazard and functional. There weapons are found or forged and unique to the man. 

There is no nobility that can demand their allegiance. They respect only the leaders that have risen spontaneously from among them. Theirs is a system of pure merit.

The Origin of the Daizu

Of all the tribes of the humans across all of Erenth, those who would come to be called Daizu were the least likely to prosper. Nothing in their earliest existence would lead anyone to believe they could establish the most feared military presence in Eastrun, nor rule over the greatest geographical footprint in the world. 

Primitive even by Nandi standards, the Daizu were once culturally impoverished and militarily weak. They had no songs, nor legends; no artwork, nor ceremony. Their women did not weave baskets, nor make pottery. Their men did not raise monuments, nor memorialize heroes. 

They did not dig graves, paint caves, nor have anything  approaching a permanent habitation. For this reason, when the Vyrum looked for Nandi to use as servants, they avoided the Daizu as too bestial. The tribe might have disappeared quietly were it not for an accident of fate. 

In the Sixth Age, the mounted cavalier of the Vyrum bred horses. But those that did not take to the rider and saddle; and those which would not tilt with lance; and those who had any defect of appearance were turned loose from the Alds. 

In Eastrun, the horses ran free and without natural predators, they prospered. By the dissolution of the empire, there were vast herds breeding in the steppes of Eastrun. 

It is true that many of the Nandi tribes domesticated these horses, but most saw them as livestock. Those that didn't used them as transportation, or as beasts of burden. It was the Daizu alone who had the distinction of riding the beasts into battle. 

The rejected mounts of the Vyrum found their original purpose with the Daizu. Though it was not with lance or sword, but with javelins. From horseback the Daizu learned to raid and retreat, attack and flee. With such tactics, they were a match for more advanced tribes who boasted foot soldiers and archery. 

Because the Daizu could stretch their campaigns over hours, they never allowed their enemy to rest. Eventually, battlefield successes would win the tribe those tools which they could not make.

The Shen (elves) of Eastrun were the first to surrender before the Daizu. They became a vassal tribe which paid tribute by providing their masters with horn short bows. This proved to be the missing piece of the puzzle for the mounted warriors. When the Daizu broke out upon the plains as archer cavalry, they could not be seriously challenged. 

From one or two flung javelins at relatively close range; they graduated to delivering a withering hail of arrows at distance. When the horse and bow were combined with solid tactics, no tribe could withstand them and no others could lead them. 

At the dawn of the 7th Age, in many parts of Erenth, the humans who had once been captives of the Vyrum were accounted as nobility. These Meni were well-trained in administration and governance. They had weapons and language and books that their less civilized Nandi cousins lacked. But in Eastrun the Meni did not prosper for long. Like the Shen and the Korobokuru the civilized tribes of men fell to the Daizu. 

There are cities in Eastrun. They only survive because the tribute they pay the Daizu. Not one bolt of silk goes West and not one pound of iron goes East without the say so of the Daizu.

Wine and Bread: The Custom of Hospitality, an Obligation of Nobility

The ancient law of hospitality is sometimes called the custom of Wine and Bread. It requires that a man offer a minimum of three days of food and shelter to anyone of his social class or below who requests it. For those of a higher social class the expectation can extend to 10 or 100 times that number.