RoE General > The Bard (IC)
The Songs of My People
Ruideside/OM (RP):
Greetings, my name is Otmar Messer, and I am a mercenary. I have been such for most of my life and mercenaries are my people.
The life of a sellsword is often hard and lonely, and the men take great comfort in the songs they share. Whether on the march, or around the fire in camp, we are wont to sing to pass the miles and hours, or to take us home, however briefly, to those we left behind so long ago. These songs come from every corner of Cerilia and they are passed from Company to Company and they form a common bond among men from many different lands.
I have been collecting these songs for many years and I am setting them down both to preserve them for posterity and to share them with those who may never have heard them. I hope you find as much joy in them as my people and I do.
[OOC: Some of these are rip offs of existing songs, and some are poems I have written myself, or adaptations of poems I have written. I will put a small note like this below each entry to let you know which each is and if possible provide a link to the original song. Enjoy!]
Ruideside/OM (RP):
My Resting Place
This woeful song is a favourite of mercenaries in their cups all across the northern lands.
Don't look for me where joys are tasted
You will not find me there my sweet stroll.
In the fields where lives are wasted.
Yonder is my resting place.
Yonder is my resting place.
Don't look for me where children are singing.
You will not fine me there my sweet stroll
Look ye where the hands are wringing.
Yonder is my resting place.
Yonder is my resting place.
Don't look for me where the lamps are glowing.
You will not fine me there my sweet stroll.
Where spirits fly and the blood is flowing.
Yonder is my resting place.
Yonder is my resting place.
So if you love me still come the morrow
Then come to me where I can be found
And bath my bones with the salt of your sorrow
Make it sweet my resting place.
Make it sweet my resting place.
[OOC: This one is adapted from June Tabor's haunting cover of Morris Rosenfeld's Mayn Rue Platz. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=51Qf_oYbYYs (Note: "Stroll" is an archaic English slang word for a prostitute)]
Ruideside/OM (RP):
Lady of Haldwaren
This is a traditional song from Grevesmühl. It is also known as "Green Eyes".
They told me in the morning,
while I was still in bed,
the King had signed the order
and now my love was dead.
And the memory of your green eyes
haunted me in my sleep,
no matter how hard I tried
I could not even weep.
So I said: "To Hell with the Kingdom,
to Hell with the Law!"
I took anything I wanted
and killed everyone I saw.
I went up to the mountains and called up all the clans,
then came across the border with sword and spear in hand...
for your green eyes.
I cut down the corn in all the North-Country fields
with your name emblazoned in blood upon my shield...
for your green eyes.
Their soldiers lay dead on the ground by the score,
I cut them down and went looking for more...
for your green eyes.
all for your eyes.
So I said: "To Hell with the Kingdom,
to Hell with the Law!"
I took anything I wanted
and killed everyone I saw.
At each town on the way I stormed across the wall,
and never slowed down till I'd taken them all...
for your green eyes.
I burned their barns and houses all down,
and spread the salt, thick as snow upon the ground...
for your green eyes.
Their sons, wives and daughters, I killed them out of hand,
I hunted them down throughout all the land...
for your green eyes.
All for your eyes.
So I said: "To Hell with the Kingdom,
to Hell with the Law!"
I took anything I wanted
and killed everyone I saw.
But still the memory of your green eyes
haunts me in my sleep,
and no matter how hard I try
I cannot help but weep.
[OOC: This one is a poem I wrote many years ago, I changed only the name, which was originally "For Your Green Eyes".]
Ruideside/OM (RP):
Gone for a Reaver
An old lament of Rjuvik origin.
Here I stand on Yvarre's wall
Who would blame me to cry my all
Every tear soft into the sea does fall
My Sorli has gone for a reaver
Woe, woe, and woe I say
His nets and creel are laid away
Till he comes back I'll rue the day
My Sorli has gone for a reaver
With sword and shield he sailed away
The Captain called he couldn't stay
Till he comes back I'll rue the day
My Sorli has gone for a reaver
Woe, woe, and woe I say
His nets and creel are laid away
Till he comes back I'll rue the day
My Sorli has gone for a reaver
I'll sell my loom, I'll sell me reel
I'll even sell my spinning wheel
To buy my love a coat of steel
My Sorli has gone for a reaver
Woe, woe, and woe I say
His nets and creel are laid away
Till he comes back I'll rue the day
My Sorli has gone for a reaver
[OOC: This one is a rip off of the traditional English song Johnny Has Gone For A Soldier as sung by John Tams. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k9NMWih0Ags ]
Ruideside/OM (RP):
The Land Called Victory
Yet another lament, this is a recent one which originated in Boeruine, and has gained popularity throughout the Ruideside
I am a youthful lady
My troubles they are great,
My tongue is scarcely able
My grievance to relate;
Since I have lost my true love,
That was ever dear to me,
He's gone to win his fortune,
In the land called Victory.
And many a pleasant evening,
My love and I did meet,
He clasped me round my slender waist,
And gave me kisses sweet;
I gave to him my hand and heart,
And he vowed he'd marry me,
But I did not know that my love,
Would go to the land called Victory.
Mourn, sisters, mourn in dismay;
For the brave Lord Doneim's men,
That came not home from Victory.
Mourn, sisters, mourn in dismay;
For the brave Lord Doneim's men,
That came not home from Victory
My parents could not endure my love,
Because he was so poor,
Therefore he never did presume,
To come within the door;
But had he been some noble lord,
Born a man of high degree,
They'd ne'er have let the lad I love,
Go to the land called Victory.
They spoke to you of glory,
And monsters to assail,
May Healyn be your guardian, love,
Till you come home to me,
Just like an angel weeping,
On the rock sighs every day,
Awaiting for my own true love,
To return from the land called Victory.
Mourn, sisters, mourn in dismay;
For the brave Lord Doneim's men,
That came not home from Victory.
Mourn, sisters, mourn in dismay;
For the brave Lord Doneim's men,
That came not home from Victory.
Here’s success unto the Companies,
Those men of noble fame,
And glory to the general,
Bold Doneim was his name;
At the Battle of the Talahar,
Their bravery cleared the way,
But my love was slain with Doneim Boer,
Upon that very day.
There was thirty in the warband,
They did my love surround,
And four and ten of that accursed band,
Went bleeding to the ground;
My love was overpowered,
Though he fought most manfully,
They slew him there beneath the dark trees,
In the land called Victory.
Mourn, sisters, mourn in dismay;
For the brave Lord Doneim's men,
That came not home from Victory.
Mourn, sisters, mourn in dismay;
For the brave Lord Doneim's men,
That came not home from Victory.
[OOC: This one is adapted from the traditional English song "The Victory" as sung by the band Steeleye Span. I had to change it up and rearrange it quite a bit to make it work. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ipMoOUacI7c ]
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