I just thought I would share this little story one of my players wrote for my eberron campaign, because it was pretty cute.
'Twas the night before gaming, and all through the house
Not a back story was coming, starring Graelen nor mouse.
The solos were spec'd by Jerry with care,
To poke poor little Grayos in his Tiefling dariare.
The characters were monologueing snug in their beds,
Showing just how
ed, each was in the head.
And Tor in his cloak, and Mathas blade in his lap,
Had just settling down for a watch-long cat nap,
When out from the ether known as the net
Came a message incoming fulfilling the bet.
Away went the window with a click of the dash,
To show a message with graphics, possibly Flash.
There was moon above some new-fallen snow
Giving the lustre of midday to the objects below.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a story about Graelen in his earlier years.
There was a little old lady, and a boy with a stick,
And I knew in a moment, Graelen once was a hick.
More rapid than eagles the places they came,
With lots of obscure and unpronounceable names.
"Now Xendrik, Now Xoriat, Now Khorvaire you vixen,
On Mror Holds, On Q'Barra, on orders Dark Sixen,
The nation I knew once calling itself Cyre,
Became Mournland, a place of darkness and fear."
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly
So went his family and nation, up into the sky.
Out of the destruction, the young Graelen flew,
With the clothes on his back and his little dog too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard someone aloof
Demanding poor Graelen present them some proof.
"It's easy to claim royalty when no one's around
To rebuke or deny it, much less confound.
A prince dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
Dabbling in spells that require incense and soot?
A bundle of lies, probably written by a hack,
You're nothing more than peddler, with a cat in a sack!"
His eyes -- how they twinkled! His demeanor quite scary!
His anger so obvious he turned as red as a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
Pinning the heckler in his tracks in the snow.
With a wave of his hand and a twig from a wreath,
He blasted the naysayer right in the teeth.
The stain that was left was blackened and smelly,
And shook in the wind like a bowlful of jelly.
The turned to his companion, a dour-looking elf,
Who pointed and laughed despite himself.
A wink of his eye, and a twist of his head,
Filled the rest of the audience with a feeling of dread.
He spoke not a word, but went back to his work,
Telling his tale despite the interruption of jerks.
And laying a finger on the side of his nose,
He brandished his signet with its royal red rose.
He sprang to his feet with a smile and a whistle,
Feeling quite pleased with his holy fire missile.
But I heard him exclaim 'ere he rode out of sight,
"A kingdom may fall, and still be put right!"
'Twas the night before gaming, and all through the house
Not a back story was coming, starring Graelen nor mouse.
The solos were spec'd by Jerry with care,
To poke poor little Grayos in his Tiefling dariare.
The characters were monologueing snug in their beds,
Showing just how
ed, each was in the head.And Tor in his cloak, and Mathas blade in his lap,
Had just settling down for a watch-long cat nap,
When out from the ether known as the net
Came a message incoming fulfilling the bet.
Away went the window with a click of the dash,
To show a message with graphics, possibly Flash.
There was moon above some new-fallen snow
Giving the lustre of midday to the objects below.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a story about Graelen in his earlier years.
There was a little old lady, and a boy with a stick,
And I knew in a moment, Graelen once was a hick.
More rapid than eagles the places they came,
With lots of obscure and unpronounceable names.
"Now Xendrik, Now Xoriat, Now Khorvaire you vixen,
On Mror Holds, On Q'Barra, on orders Dark Sixen,
The nation I knew once calling itself Cyre,
Became Mournland, a place of darkness and fear."
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly
So went his family and nation, up into the sky.
Out of the destruction, the young Graelen flew,
With the clothes on his back and his little dog too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard someone aloof
Demanding poor Graelen present them some proof.
"It's easy to claim royalty when no one's around
To rebuke or deny it, much less confound.
A prince dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
Dabbling in spells that require incense and soot?
A bundle of lies, probably written by a hack,
You're nothing more than peddler, with a cat in a sack!"
His eyes -- how they twinkled! His demeanor quite scary!
His anger so obvious he turned as red as a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
Pinning the heckler in his tracks in the snow.
With a wave of his hand and a twig from a wreath,
He blasted the naysayer right in the teeth.
The stain that was left was blackened and smelly,
And shook in the wind like a bowlful of jelly.
The turned to his companion, a dour-looking elf,
Who pointed and laughed despite himself.
A wink of his eye, and a twist of his head,
Filled the rest of the audience with a feeling of dread.
He spoke not a word, but went back to his work,
Telling his tale despite the interruption of jerks.
And laying a finger on the side of his nose,
He brandished his signet with its royal red rose.
He sprang to his feet with a smile and a whistle,
Feeling quite pleased with his holy fire missile.
But I heard him exclaim 'ere he rode out of sight,
"A kingdom may fall, and still be put right!"
