You there! Yes, you! What, you think I’m talking to these vagabonds? No, just look at the way they’re dressed! You’re obviously not from around here, judging by the, well, everything about you. Care for a song? I’ll only charge three taps.
What, haven’t you got any money? You weren’t robbed once you got off the boat, were you? I’d imagine somebody would have warned you about that. Well, you don’t have to stare so blankly at me. I’m a bard, not a servant. You think I’m carrying this lyre around to floss? Now, run along, and mind your shoes. The truly desperate will wrestle them off you if you aren’t wary.
Well? What are you staring at me for? I can’t help you if you haven’t got any money. If I didn’t charge per song I’d be out of business within a week. No, I don’t get a lot of business around these parts, as you’d imagine. Mostly your sort: travelers that can actually afford the leisure. Speaking of, were there others on the boat you came on? Perhaps a song could attract some attention. Just don’t tell anyone you got this one for free, got it?
A man may see here beggars
Strewn all about the street
But I, no– I see treasure
Who have no coin to eat
It wasn’t always like this
This conclave of the poor
But often luck can run amiss
And it’s gone dry along this shore
But this is no song of poverty
This land to one attunes
This is an Archon’s property:
The Spirit of the Dunes
That shadow there, up in the sky
It leaves the wind in short supply
That half-dome shelters everyone
And under it, there is no sun!
Outside the cities there is sand
And in that sand you’ll find no man
The cities are your safest bet
The beggars here, they are no threat
This, oh guest, is Ketha
The land of burning gold
There’s magic here, yes that is true
But Kethan’s cannot craft anew
They need fire, water, earth, and such
Without these things, they can’t do much!
But with those tools they should be feared
One candle flame and a field is cleared
The Archon, Keht, he could do more!
Entire kingdoms he did floor!
This, good sir, is Ketha
The land of strength untold
You may wonder, why not leave?
What could we possibly receive?
But to us, this is our home
If not this place, where would we roam?
The lucky few can flourish here
Otherwise cities would disappear
Struggle breeds greatness, as they say
So we’re all strong in our own way
This, dear friend, is Ketha
The land where dreams unfold
We’re not all beggars, not all thieves
Is a man not anything he believes?
Nobody is a giver here
There isn’t even a river near!
We’re not all thieves, but I sure am
This humble song is just a scam
I’ve got your purse–you are too kind!
Maybe next time you won’t be so blind
This, poor fool, is Ketha
The land where lies are told