East of Winter

The Tragedy of Vepha and Lhoris

as told by the bard Soraya

 

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Battle-worn lovers fled before the Horde

to Cradle, before winter, before the close

Days turned weeks, months, while outside the storm roared

Bright hope faded, beneath the endless snows     

 

The ice lasts centuries; even elves must fade

Gentle repose, Vepha would hold, ‘til ice thawed

But no salt to be found, though he searched and prayed

In despair, desperation, a darker god

 

So Vepha was lost, beyond all recall

Twisted with age and madness, Lhoris endured

alone in the town, undead in his thrall

‘til heroes returned to Cradle, by treasure promises lured

 

And freed, them, at last, from their tragic doom

Two souls at rest, two trees, in bloom

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