*tacked by Poet's corner*

[mixafix]

*A short cowled figure quickly places a poem before departing through the crowded Inn*
 
 [SIZE=16]There was a young Bard from Mistone[/SIZE]
 [SIZE=16]Resplendent in  tabard of deep red[/SIZE]
 [SIZE=16]Love songs he did once sing[/SIZE]
 [SIZE=16]But rebel songs he now sang[/SIZE]
 [SIZE=16]And at Rael he was then hung![/SIZE]

[RollinsCat]

Having heard this from a regular patron sometime later - "He talkin' about you, there, frilly?" - Andrew only snorts and shakes his head.

"Can't be.  I'm not from Mistone."  He proceeds to an abbreviated set before heading out.

[Makashi]

*Ranéwin's expression falls as she reads the words of the poem,  unable to help herself from storming out of the inn, a morbid expression upon her face*