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Baron Lynx--Transcribed by Mordeth Folonmere
There are tales that should not be told on Midwinter night. Tales that should not grace the house of good and decent people. This is such a tale. Yet, this is a tale that must be told in these troubled times. I am Bard Telmeth Corrigar, this is my tale.
The Dark Summer was not the first time that people crossed swords with the Shadow Lords, only the most spectacular. There is little written of these men, these beasts, these abominations of nature that kill with abandon, that thirst for innocent blood, but there are memories. There are wastelands that remember all too well the blackness that follows in their wake. There are empty villages like Hallav and Kirkdown--names you will not know because only those that tell tales remember these ghosts. There are green patches upon the hills where bodies fed the soil for there was no one left alive to bury them.
I tell not of this, however, dear listeners, but of a singular creature, a voracious warrior who acted alone to slay hundreds. Like a shadow, he stalked them as man or beast, in the night when the moon had set. Like a shadow, he enfolded the earth and wrapped villages in his dark cloak. Like a shadow, he left no trace of his passing, for none were left to sound a warning.
Baron Lynx, when he rode, was bourne upon the back of a great black stallion, armoured to match his blackened mail. But his armour was not blackened in its true nature, but by the soot from the ashes of the fires he set. He chose, as he left the villages he slaughtered, to light each hut aflame to light his victorious departure. From the last cottage, he would emerge, wreathed in flame, blackened armour shining in the darkness, his eyes red with bestial battle-fury.
When he went to ground, as when he was hounded by human armies, he ran afourfoot with the grace of a cat. He would lead his hunters on a merry chase and then leap to the trees and, like a shadow, disappear. And so it went for year upon year. Some seasons, the Baron was efficient, eliminating hamlets at a time. However, after a time, his one-man raids grew sparse, and villagers began to relax.
It has been many a year since the last attack by Baron Lynx, but take no comfort in that. We have no knowledge as to whether he is yet dead, if creatures like him are limited so. They die by the sword like any man, but by Time? This is why I warn you. The Dark is rising, my listeners, the Baron may soon return.
Now then. Enough of my fearsome warnings. I entertain you with a song, dear listeners, that the children might sleep soundly tonight.
When on the darken-nights of old
The fae folk lit the night
With will-o'-the-wisp and fire flies
And jack-o-lantern bright,
There came a sorry sad old man
With eyes aflame with light
Singin'
Hi-de-diddle-an-a-ra-ta-ta
Hi-de-riddle-ra-ay!
The Dark One sent his fiercest men
To kill the sad old man
With swords and axes sharpened right
And after him they ran.
But the man with flashing eyes
Had a different plan
Singin'
Hi-de-diddle-an-a-ra-ta-ta
Hi-de-riddle-ra-ay!
The creatures of the dark stopped short
At his little song
Perplexed that he dared face them
And would not run along
So remember, little ones
When things go all wrong,
Sing
Hi-de-diddle-an-a-ra-ta-ta
Hi-de-riddle-ra-ay!
All alone in darkened wood
A lonely child did roam
Where an ancient city stood
Afar afar from home…
And behind him rose a fiend
In olden Abernome
Singin'
Hi-de-diddle-an-a-ra-ta-ta
Hi-de-riddle-ra-ay!
The lonely child did stop and stare
And reach for weapon, too
But none he found to help his plight
T'was sure that he was through.
Then all at once, the sword he sought
Its hilt gleamed bright and true,
Singin'
Hi-de-diddle-an-a-ra-ta-ta
Hi-de-riddle-ra-ay!
Heartblade named and straight and sharp
And gilded through and bright
He wielded it high with manly strength
Though his frame was slight
And in the dark, that precious eve
The victor then was Light
Singin'
Hi-de-diddle-an-a-ra-ta-ta
Hi-de-riddle-ra-ay!
The creature of the dark stopped short
At his little song
Perplexed that he dared face it
And would not run along
So remember, little ones
When things go all wrong,
Sing
Hi-de-diddle-an-a-ra-ta-ta
Hi-de-riddle-ra-ay!
At the eve of Winter Night
A child of earth and man
Did wander on the drifts of cold
And played as children can…