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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Verbatim" data-source="post: 2147998" data-attributes="member: 15549">Ayden entered the Double Bolt and hung his sodden cloak and hat on the pegs near the fireplace to dry. As he placed them there, his eyes were drawn to the symbol of Ilmater and thought that the Broken One had found a suitable home in this place. As his companions chose seats at the bar and at various tables, Ayden walked to a corner table away from them all and pulled his Uncle's violin from the depths of the magical bag.Pulling his hair back and securing it with a small leather cord, as Ayden meant to have it cut while they travled only to feel it was too vain of a request to ask at the time, he drew the bow across the strings and as the music filled the room, Ayden sang the one and only hymn he knew of the Ilmateri."We are the broken menWe are the suffering menLeaning togetherHearts filled with woe. Alas!Our dried voices, whenWe whisper togetherAre quiet and meaninglessAs wind in dry grassOr rats' feet over broken glassIn our dry cellarShapes without form, shades without colour,Paralysed forces, gestures without motion;Those who have crossedWith direct eyes, to Kelemvor's KingdomRemember us -- if at all -- not as lostViolent souls, but onlyAs the broken menThe suffering men.Eyes I dare not meet in dreamsIn death's dream kingdomThese do not appear:There, the eyes areSunlight on a broken columnThere, is a tree swingingAnd voices areIn the wind's singingMore distant and more solemnThan a fading star.Let me be no nearerIn Kelemvor's dark kingdomLet me also wearSuch deliberate disguisesRat's coat, crowskin, crossed stavesIn a fieldBehaving as the wind behavesNo nearer --Not that final meetingIn his twilight kingdomThis is a dead landThis is a stark landHere the false imagesAre raised, here they receiveThe supplication of a cruel man's handUnder the twinkle of a fading star.Is it like thisIn Ilmater's kingdomWaking aloneAt the hour when we areTrembling with tendernessLips that would kissForm prayers to mend broken stone.The eyes are not hereThere are no eyes hereIn this valley of dying starsIn this hollow valleyThis broken jaw of our lost kingdomsIn this last of meeting placesWe grope togetherAnd avoid speechGathered on this beach of the tumid riverSightless, unlessThe eyes reappearAs the perpetual starMultifoliate roseOf death's twilight kingdomThe hope onlyOf broken men.Between the ideaAnd the truthBetween the motionAnd the actFalls the dark shadows Between the conceptionAnd the creationBetween the emotionAnd the responseFalls the dark shadowBetween the desireAnd the chasmBetween the potencyAnd the existenceBetween the essenceAnd the descentFalls the dark shadowAs the song ended, the last note hung heavy in the air for a moment before slowly fading away.[sblock]End Part Two and I would like to give all credit to T.S. Eliot for the poem of his I just butchered for my own purposes.[/sblock]</blockquote>

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