Sung with drunken enthusiasm around the Malki campfire to celebrate a victory of the the Thunder peak bandits by Charm, Glitch and Gisom Malki
Wake up you sleepy head Put on some armour,shake up your bed Put another log on the fire for thineI've made some breakfast and wine Look to the west and what do I pine A crack at the bandit with Glitch and the Charm
All the nightmares came today And it looks as though they'rehere to stay The gore and the blood No hope for me,no rest for you
I think about a battle to come Where the brigands were found down by the Thunder smited in pain, smited in awe By a drunken trio who quested What we were here for All the heroes killed today And it looks as thoughthey're here to stay Oh You bloodied thing Don't you know you're dancing your gobbos and kobolds in pain Oh You daggery thing Don't you know you're healing your Elf and Dwarf from pain
Let me make it plainYou gotta make slay for the sober tommorrow
Gisom had returned to Orc Mountain. As was the way, once every ten years. High above the scowling Orcs, and with some poor stray giant slain beyond the fire the mood is drunken bravado.
Those still living with the clan sat on one side of the fire in strict order, elders first, chosen sons nearby, others falling further aside by their prospects. All better behaved and many in awe of their well travelled but near forgotten wandering kin now returned. On the far side of the camp, the wanderers, waifs and strays - now battle weary, scarred and some near broken and weepy. But they sit where they please, bragging of adventure, displaying their captured weapons from fallen foes. Many a tall tale is backed up by a wicked weapon held in hand so none can deny the wonder of the wandering wee malki.
Gisom's turn now. He no longer covets his father's best axe, fears not for his place at the fire. He has his own weapon collection, Goblin dagger, Orc axe, and a strange collection of giant knives and blades. He sits where he pleases and opts to sing. Drunk and battle weary enough not to fear his out of tune ramblings...for he is a wee Malki
In the aftermath of the battle of Vehl Docks, Gisom, Borris, and the red cloaked 'halfling' were ordered to remain in town for 24 hours. Gisom lost no time in complying at a Dwarf friendly Inn far from the docks. A week later unsure if his 24 hours were up he commissioned the only Ilsarian Dwarf in town to compose a few words of song to commemorate the victory over a Corathitre slaver crew at the docks. The song he is shamelessly calling - the living legend that is Gisom Malki, Corri slayer.
A wild eyed, red faced growling Dwarf stood on the narrow bridge than spanned a small stream east of Leringard towards the mighty Whithorn.A much smaller and younger Dwarf not yet with beard stood at the other end of the bridge.
Gisom, for it was he, had two daggers about his more than ample waist, a mighty double headed axe strapped across his back. He leaned on a strange looking scythe, made for war and not for farming, it held several runes along it's glowing blade. Young Garth Stormaxe, for it was he at the other end of the bridge, had three logs strapped to his back and held a stave of hickory in his hands defiantly.
The two dwarves were swopping tales of derring do.
Garth had just finished explaining his escape from a black bear not so many hours ago.
Gisom was just about finished a lengthy tale of a legendary encounter in the Whithorn. "So there I was young Garth, Owl Bears to the right of me, Owl Bears to the left of me, and a mighty chieftain Owl Bear to the front of me, magic hurled at me and bears roaring, storm'd at me with beak and claw, boldly they ran to maul, into the jaws of death, into the mouth of hell, charged the michty Owl bears."
"How many, How many bears were there?" interrupted the tongue tied Garth.
"Och must have been near 600."
"and what happened then?" cried the apprentice. "Och did I not just fall over and die!" replied Gisom Malki and roared with laughter.
The two Dwarves passed about their business, and so the legend of Gisom Malki grew a little bigger in the telling.
Memories of the expedition to the Great Spikes, a fine adventure and the Wee Malkis greatest trek.
No one asked, someone sighed, others pretended to snore, Chimes offered a counter tune, but to no avail for Gisom pressed on with his song.
There they were in the Outpost cave deep in the Spikes, further than any wee Malki had ever travelled before. Safe for once He put together some words about his many adventures during his sober journey to the Icy wastes. He was hoping to keep them for a big Clan gathering at Orc Mountain one day.
Well you know I was always the first to arrive at the party,Oh and the last to leave the scene of the fight.Well it started with a couple of beers,And it went I don't know how many years,Like a run away Giant charging over the Ice.
Well I finally got around to admit that I might have a problem,But I thought it was just too damn big of a mountain to climb,Well I got knocked down on my knees and said Hey,I just can't go on falling this way,Guess I have to learn to stay on my feet.
Oh yeah, One Giant at a Time.Oh yeah, One Giant at a Time.
Well I finally got around to admit that Ale was the problem,When I used to put the blame on the Drakes and the Giants,All my friends I use to fight with are gone,But I hadn't planned on staying this long,Guess I'll have to learn to live my life one Giant at a time...
*he shrugs and stops to the relief of everyone present.
Gisom looked around the cavern lost in thought, restless eyes fall on the casks of ale scattered around the camp. He sighed, he twitched but he never wavered, he waited for the time to return.