Ein Gedichtband

Aussehen

Ein alter, in Leder gebundener Gedichtband, in dem die Geschichten und
Gedichte von Charsi stehen.

Informationen

ⓘKann von einem Seher oder Alchemisten bestimmt werden, wenn keines gesetzt ist, wird Unbekannt angegeben. Nur der Alchemist kann bestimmen, welches Metall auch Gold, Silber, Quecksilber, Kupfer, Eisen, Zinn und Blei beinhaltet.Material:	Papier
ⓘKann von jedem bestimmt werden, eine genaue Anleitung (auch für Seher) nter Forschen im Inhaltsverzeichnis unter Gewicht. Generell gilt zu beachten, es gibt Gegenstände die stapeln, das Gewicht (damit Volumenverbrauch) bei stapelbaren Gegenständen verhält sich anders, je nach Menge.Gewicht:	1 (sehr leicht)
ⓘKann von jedem bestimmt werden, eine genaue Anleitung unter Forschen im Inhaltsverzeichnis unter Licht.Licht:	0 (leuchtet nicht)
ⓘKann von einem Alchemisten bestimmt werden, allerdings leitet sich die Brennbarkeit oft von dem gesetzten Material ab, z.b. Holz brennt, Textil brennt, Bein brennt nicht.Brennbar:	ja
ⓘKann von einem Alchemisten bestimmt werden, allerdings leitet sich die Schwimmbarkeit oft von dem gesetzten Material ab, z.b. Holz schwimmt, Textil schwimmt nicht, Bein schwimmt nicht.Schwimmt:	ja

Fundort

Zu kaufen bei Charsi in ihrer Rüstungsschmiede in Nankea (Stadt) auf Nankea.

Inhalt

Ein Buch mit Gedichten.

Faksimile

           Poems and storys written by Charsi
 
          1 The one "poem"
          2 Under the imperial banner "poem"   
          3 Under the imperial banner "story"
         29 Last flight part 1 "poem"
         30 Last flight part 2 "poem"
         31 Als ich noch Drache war Teil 1 "Gedicht"   
         32 Als ich noch Drache war Teil 2 "Gedicht"
         33 Die Drachen von Nemsis "Gedicht"
         34 Drachenfrau "Gedicht"
         35 Feuerstern "Gedicht"
         36 Schwarzes Eis "Gedicht"
         37 Shari's Trauer "Gedicht"
         38 Die Nacht erwacht "Gedicht"

                                Written by Charsi (c)


When the time of light went by 
Darkness was filing up the sky. 
And from the fourth, the evil sphere, 
was coming an almighty fear. 
It was the one of evil seed, 
bless on us, we're going to bleed. 
Shaking his head thirteen times horned, 
no one could stop him, we're getting torned. 
But there was the one, the sword of swords, 
on him lay all our desperate hopes. 
He held the sword called sevenstrike. 
And faced the one in an eternal fight. 
But right before the devils death 
He took a last and evil breath. 
The breath was deadly an very cold 
And so the land was onwards called. 
And somewhere there in the eternal ice 
Still lies the battle's holy price. 
Oh let the gods be greedy to you  
and holy sevenstrike will come to you.

It is a time of dread and fear. 
One of the darkest chapter in human`s life. 
Torrokul Skullslasher, chief of the most awful ogre clan of Ulbachaka, 
launched an invasion on the defenceless north coast of Nyrmillia. 
Hidden by a magic fog, created by his powerful shamans 
huge parts of the imperial navy got lost and destroyed. 
Combined with all ogrish forces under his command Torrokul penetrated 
the harmless defence of Nyrmillian knights and occupied large parts of 
the careless empire with a very swift stroke. 
More than thousand innocent victims were slaughtered until the evil hordes 
reached the impregnable walls of metropolitan Kerat. 
From here the final battle would secure victory in the struggle of Nyrmillia. 
As all survived human troops were shattered all over the land, the ogres 
expected a quick and easy annihilation of all their weaken adversaries. 
But the cry for revenge winged the unbroken will of the defenders. 

Lord Silverheart`s eyes looked sadly to the old map that was spread out of a 
shabby table in the command tent of the Imperial Army. 
His quick glance around noticed that all present knights had the same 
depressed feeling about the hopeless situation. Defeated and besieged by a 
wild and merciless enemy who had never known any kind of negotiations.  
'How many men do we have lost today?', asked Lord Silverheart silently as a 
young corporal stepped forward to him. 
His rotten chain mail amour was stained with blood and mud. Sweat ran down 
on his neck as he breathlessly began to stutter his report. 
'It was a trap, Milord. We reached the ruins of Galbhon as we were suddenly 
ambushed by a great number of these damned bastards. Three of our horsemen 
died before they actually knew what was happening to them. Colonel Moverrick 
our leader, ordered a close circle, but before his voice reached all riders, 
another two men were slaughtered where they stood.' Mournful he pressed his 
hands for his eyes. His crying was interrupted by a gentle embrace of Lord 
Silverheart. 
'Go on, corporal! Tell us what had happened then.'

The young man swallowed and wiped the tears from his face. 
'The ogres roared and without any notice to their wounds they killed men 
and horses. I will never forget this brutish behaviour. With their huge clubs 
they smashed our men in pieces. During the dishonourable battle some of them 
even tore the bodies of the dead apart and started to scoff.' 
A loud groaning was heard in the tent, as some of the elder knights lost 
their powers of comprehension. Aghasted they starred at Lord Silverheart, 
who tried to calm down the growing turmoil.

'Are there any other survivors, who can testify that massacre?', asked a 
fair-haired monk. 
His pale face was as white as his plain robe. His fingers played nervously 
with an ancient amulet made of silver. 
'No, your holiness. I am the only one.' The corporal shameful bowed his head. 
'I was in such a fear that I denied my mission and my rank. Without any 
further thoughts about my dead companions in arms I started to run. I 
retreated like a coward and fled from the battle.'  
'You escaped by foot?' The reverberate voice of Lord Hawkeye sounded 
reproachful. Angry about the foolish behaviour of his soldier the incensed 
knight grabbed his slim shoulder.  
'Tell me lad, what is the first principle of a cavalryman during a fight?'  
'To protect and to save the life of his horse.'  
Lord Hawkeye nodded. 'Aye. And what did you do?' The tall dignified aristocrat 
clenched his fist. 'You left it in the lurch. You deserted.'     

Feeling guilty the young corporal starred at the ground. 'I know, Milord. 
I am not worth to wear the imperial coat of arms. But my horse was killed 
during the battle. I could not even took vengeance.' 
Lord Silverheart tried to smile. 'You did well, corporal. Lord Hawkeye it is 
enough.'  
Fatherly Lord Silverheart led him out of the tent to a bench near the 
blacksmith. As the young man looked up to him Lord Silverheart shook his hand.  
'There is nothing more that you can do. Try to sleep and do not forget that a 
vivid soldier is worthier to the emperor  than a dead one.'  
The young corporal tried to laugh. 'Thanks Milord. I am still proud to march 
under the Imperial Banner.' 
Lord Silverheart hesitated. Before he turned around he took a last glimpse to 
the man. 'What is your name, corporal?', he asked silently. 
'Umanor, Milord. Fregor Umanor.' His dark eyes tried to catch Silverheart`s 
gaze. 'Umanor', he whispered.  
Thoughtful Silverheart`s fingers scratched his fine beard. 'I once knew an old 
veteran called Lesrak Umanor. He was one of the first swordsmen who died during 
the north coast defence. Was he a relative to you?' Fregor nodded sadly.  
'He was my grandfather. My father was murdered two weeks ago as an ogrish 
shaman conjured an elemental servant of the dark side.'  

Lord Silverheart looked to the ready made blades that were put on a weapon 
rack in front of the blacksmith`s tent. 'Yes, I have heard about it. That 
diabolical demon destroyed some of our catapults and battering rams. Seven 
guards lost their life as they tried to protect these powerful vehicles.' 
Corporal Umanor grabbed a filthy scrap of cloth out of his bag. Wiping off 
the dirt on his face he suddenly drew a blunt claymore. 'This is my 
grandfather`s sword, Sire. It has once been a powerful scarf blade. But now 
it is rotten. It did not even kill one of this atrocious creatures. It only 
tasted the blood of some loathsome goblins.' Fregor Umanor looked up to his 
feudal lord, but Lord Silverheart`s mind seemed to be far away.  
As his loud voice sounds a few seconds later, the young corporal stopped wiping 
his face immediately. 
'I think I have a quest for you, corporal Umanor. Have you ever heard of Sir 
Keilon of Brookvalley?' 
The young soldier denied, but Lord Silverheart`s intention was as clear as a 
crystal. 'No, Milord. But he sounds like a heroic knight. Is he one of your 
warlords?'  
Lord Silverheart hardly tried to conceal his smiling. 'Not yet, corporal. He 
is truly a knight and a very brave and honourable he is. His code of honour 
is exemplary to all of us. I am glad to be his trustful friend.' 

'So you want me to meet him?' Dropping the scrap Umanor raised impetuous. 'Of 
course you want me to meet him. Otherwise you would not have told me about him. 
Is he the one we are looking for? Will he bring peace to our tortured souls?'  
Lord Silverheart did not smile any more. 'No, corporal. Although Sir Keilon 
gained numerous heroic deeds he still is a mortal human. His Majesty the 
emperor himself sent him to me. We expect his arrival tomorrow afternoon.' 
Looking back to his command tent Lord Silverheart discharged corporal Umanor. 
'Try to rest corporal! Tomorrow will bring another hard day for us. I will 
send one of my servants informing you about the quest.'  
Umanor nodded and saluted. 'I will not fail, Milord.' Tired but proud he 
turned around and followed the path to the  quarters.  

Mist undulated the numerous tents of the Imperial Corps. 
Opaque and scary like a demon`s breath enclosing a condemned soul.  
The hoarsely cry of an old crow broke the quiet of the early morning. 
Corporal Umanor´s bright eyes followed the bird as it landed on the top of 
an old oak. 'You are free, my fellow. You can do what you want. You can 
escape and you do not know any kind of misery.'  
The young soldier was already dressed. With his polished chain mail amour, 
his red coat and his grandfather`s sword on his belt he really looked like 
a brave imperial knight. His battered helmet in his hands Umanor stepped 
forward to the group of six guards protecting Elder Helferson´s tent. All 
of them wore dark blue uniforms over their golden plate mail armours. 
Like cleric Helferson himself each of the men was armed with a blessed mace.  

Before corporal Umanor could raise his hand for salutation he was stopped by 
the prefect of the clerical lifeguard.  
'I am sorry, corporal. I cannot let you through. Elder Helferson wants to 
meditate in silence. He is weaken by his healing spells last night.' 
Corporal Umanor stood back. 'His healing spells? I have not been informed 
about any ogrish attacks last night. Please tell me what has happened Sire.' 
The prefect`s face darkened. 'I am not allowed to tell you anything about 
that, corporal. I beg you to leave. Otherwise I have to put you under arrest.'  
Being impressed by the prefect`s answer, Umanor nodded and turned around. 
'I understand you, Sir. It is not my intention to make any trouble. 
I just wanted to be blessed by Elder Helferson, before I will be on a new 
mission.'  
The six men did not show any lively interest in Umanor´s words. Rigid as 
a stone the clerical prefect starred straight ahead without taking further 
notice of the young corporal.  

'So I will wait for Lord Silverheart`s servant.' Disappointed by the guards 
behaviour corporal Umanor aimless walked through the huge imperial camp. 
He passed the blacksmith`s tent and stopped at the field kitchen for a quick 
breakfast. As Borefiniannna, one of the beautiful maids, offered him a slice of 
hard bread, he grabbed her hand. 
'Wait a minute, please. What is it about a fresh piece of bread for an old 
fellow like me?' Looking in Borefiniannna´s bright blue eyes Fregor Umanor smiled 
in a mischievous way. 
'The other soldiers do not complain. It is quite difficult to get you 
satisfied, corporal.' Borefiniannna`s hearty laugh made him grin. 'Why do you 
always complain about everything? Do you think I am happy to work hard 
every day? Well, the number of soldiers descends every day, but we poor 
maids are busied until midnight. Sometimes I think we women are tougher 
than you, without wearing swords.' 
Umanor nodded and let off her fine wrist. Borefiniannna`s long brown curls and 
her seductive body in mind he offered her a silver coin. 

'This is for you, Mori. I like your way. I hope I will see you when I am back.' 
Discouraged by Borefiniannna´s twinkling eyes and her twisted lips Umanor looked at 
the ground. 
'What did you say, Fregor? You leave? I think your unit of cavalry men has 
been destroyed.' The young soldier sighed and with a wave of his hand he made 
her sit down.  
'Listen Borefiniannna, Lord Silverheart has planed and secret mission for me and 
a famous knight. I do not know when it will start and even what we are going 
to do. But I think it is a second chance for me to show my abilities. Yes, I
am proud to be chosen by Lord Silverheart himself and I hope not to fail again.'  
Borefiniannna´s pretty cheeks went red. 'My prayers are with you, Fregor. I hope 
you will survive this mission and come back to me. You know that I still feel 
sympathy for you.' 
Umanor stroked her hand. 'Thanks, Borefiniannna. I will take you out of here, when 
this terrible war is over. We have suffered too much pain.'  
Borefiniannna leaned forward. Kissing Fregor´s cheeks she said goodbye. 
'May Golum bless you, Umanor. I will wait for your return.' 
With tears in her eyes Borefiniannna turned away and left him alone.  

'Corporal Umanor?' The young squire with his out standing forehead scraped 
his nose unsure. 'That is me. What do you want?' Astonished by the well 
dressed man Umanor laid his canteen down. Sitting on his bench in front 
of the quarters he surely expected one of Lord Silverheart´s servants. 
But the well wished aristocrat really sent his loyal squire for informing 
an inexperienced corporal. 
'I have been sent by my master, Lord Silverheart to pick you up. He awaits 
you in the command tent. Follow me, if you are ready.' The unarmed young 
lad stepped back. 'I am ready. We can go.' Umanor grabbed for his sword 
and his helmet. Being impressed by the well kept imperial uniform he 
followed the squire expectantly.  
As they reached Lord Silverheart´s command tent a few minutes later Umanor 
hesitated nervously. 
'You may enter, corporal.' Pointing his finger on the entrance the squire 
waited for Umanor´s decision.  
'I see no guards. Where are Lord Silverheart´s men at arms?' 
The squire shook his head. 'You better ask Lord Silverheart himself, corporal. 
Enter please, I have got work to do.'  
Feeling strange Umanor stepped into the big tent. Like the day before Lord 
Silverheart stands behind his massive table. 
'Greetings, corporal Umanor. I am pleased to see you fully armed. Take a seat 
and wait for Sir Keilon´s return.' 
Before Umanor could salute Lord Silverheart looked back on his scripts that 
were spread out on his desk. 'Do you wish a cup of tea?' Umanor agreed. 

'With pleasure, Milord. It is cold outside.' 
Without raising his head Silverheart signalled one of his servants to offer 
Umanor a cup of hot black tea. Wondering about the three servants who stand 
behind Lord Silverheart´s back Umanor took the beverage gratefully. Without 
burning his lips he carefully tasted the aromatic drink. 
'I have never drank a delicious tea like this. It makes me feel strong. Are 
there any magic ingredients in it?'  
Lord Silverheart looked up to him. 'That is correct, corporal. Elder Helferson 
brewed it that morning. He said it would be more helpful than any healing 
potion he knows.'  
The young corporal looked around. Except him, Lord Silverheart and his servants 
the immense command tent was empty. 'I have tried to visit Elder Helferson, but 
the guards did not let me pass. The clerical prefect mentioned something about 
healing spells. Was there an ogrish attack last night?' 
Lord Silverheart remained silent. 
Before Umanor had emptied his cup of tea a strange noise caught his intention. 
Turning his face to the entrance he suddenly discerned a feeling of oppression. 
Breathless he starred at the tall impressive warrior entering the tent with 
great steps. 

Sir Keilon´s squeaking knight`s armour looked scratched and battered. The 
former magnificent plate mail was covered with clotted blood, dried sludge 
and sings of rust. Only his deep blue cloak concealed further wears and tears. 
Even his long riding boots seemed to be outworn and holey.  
Lost in thoughts the impressive knight passed corporal Umanor without taking 
any notice of him. A smell of death drifted to the soldier`s nose, as Sir 
Keilon started to speak.  
'Two of the men are dead. There was nothing more that Elder Helferson and 
the medico could do. This strong ogre shaman must be destroyed, otherwise we 
will lose more and more of our brave men.'  
Scrutinising Sire Keilon corporal Umanor stood up silently. As the elder 
knight noticed the young officer he suspiciously stepped back. 
'Who are you? Are you Lord Babec´s courier? Did he arrive finally?'  
Looking straight in Sir Keilon´s green eyes Umanor denied intimidated. 
'No, Milord. I am corporal Umanor. Once cavalryman under colonel Moverrick´s 
command, leader of the fourth imperial cavalry regiment.' 
The arrogant look of Sire Keilon silenced him immediately. 'Once?' 
Before Fregor Umanor could answer Lord Silverheart stepped between them. 
'He is right. The fourth cavalry regiment had been wiped out by an ogrish 
raiding party. He is the only one who had survived that massacre.' 
'Wiped out? All riders?', Sir Keilon asked doubting. 'What a terrible lost.'  
'That is not all', Lord Silverheart handed him a little piece of paper. 
'This is a message brought by one of Sire Babec´s carrier pigeons.'  

Turning to the flickering oil lamp on Lord Silverheart´s table the old knight 
tried to read the tiny note. 'That cannot be', he shouted mournfully. 'Before
we decided to separate us, Lord Babec was protected by a large group of 
experienced swordsmen. I can not believe that he is captured. The ogres never 
take any prisoners.'  
'Maybe there is more about it than we know.' Lord Silverheart dismissed the 
three servants and walked back to his table. 'The message reached me by sunrise. 
I have thought about it a lot. Our first step was to kill the ogrish shaman. 
Now we should plan Sire Babec´s rescue, if he is still alive.'  
  
'I think we can do both easily.' Trying to catch Sir Keilon´s attention 
corporal Umanor stepped forward. Starting his explanation in a self-assured 
way he bravely looked in the expectant eyes of the elder knight.  
'There must be a secret base in the woods outside. From there the ogres are 
making their plans probably. This hidden place is well chosen. It must be between 
our camp and the ogrish army in the north. Reinforcement can get there in a quick 
and harmless way, before our scouts can report about their arrival. 
So, it must be a small base.' 

Sir Keilon did not show any reaction to Umanor´s theory. Indifferent towards 
the corporal he put the little note back on Lord Silverheart´s table and took 
place on a dirty armchair.  
Then the battle-tried aristocrat nodded admittedly. 'What makes you think that 
an ogrish raiding party is organised like that? I think you overestimate them. 
Ogres are only led by their hunger and their hate. 
They do not know any kind of strategy.' 
'What is about their invasion of Nyrmillia?', corporal Umanor replied. 
'Chief Torrokul and his shamans did not leave anything to chance. 
I think we underestimated them.'  
Lord Silverheart nodded, too. 'You are right, corporal. I am of the same 
opinion that there must be a hidden base in the woods outside. The forest 
is strictly avoided by our patrols. It is to dangerous for a small group to 
enter this dark and unsafe place.' 
Sir Keilon looked up to his old friend Siegbert Silverheart. 'As a loyal 
servant in her majesty`s service I am forced to get into that frowning wood. 
Maybe I can find Sire Babec and this vicious shaman there.'  
'I go with you, Sir Keilon. There is something I have to make good.' 

The imperial knight shook his head. 'That is not a good idea, young corporal. 
I appreciate your brave behaviour, but you are no fighter. You have no 
experience in things like that.' 
The proud knight stood up. 'I will do it alone, Siegbert. Send your squire to 
my tent. He shall prepare my food and my weapon. I am going to my horse.' 
'Wait, Sir Keilon', Lord Silverheart grabbed his shoulder. 'I will send my 
squire, but listen to me at first. Corporal Umanor goes with you, as well as 
two of my best soldiers.'  
Before Sir Keilon could answer Lord Silverheart called for corporal Umanor. 
'This is your quest, Umanor. If you will not return, be sure that your deeds 
are not in vain. Try to do your best and maybe you will become a hero. 
Release Sire Babec and kill that diabolic creature that is responsible for 
our sorrows. May Golum go with you, corporal Umanor.' 

The warm sunlight shone down on Borefiniannna`s curly head. Trembling she waved 
Fregor good bye. Tears ran down her fine cheeks, as she sadly turned around 
starting to cry.  
Watching her Umanor tried to rein in his horse, but Sir Keilon pushed him 
forward. 
'Every man, who has to take part in a battle knows that. You are not the 
first, Umanor.'  
Behind Sir Keilon and corporal Umanor two old veterans rode their fearless 
war-horses. Captain Guy of Elson, a skilful sharpshooter, was armed with a 
heavy crossbow. He worn the typical red imperial uniform and a flat helmet on 
his shaved head. Next to him rode major Morne Wolfenheart. He was mute, but an 
excellent fighter. He used a short hand axe in conflict and a terrible scarf 
in his face testified his intransigent way of fighting.  
Leading the small group Sir Keilon offered corporal Umanor a little talisman 
made of silver. 'May this blessed amulet protect you from evil. It has been 
made for me, as I was a squire in Sire Loreander`s service about thirty 
years ago.' 
Starring at the little jester`s bauble in his hand Umanor tried to laugh.  
'It is an unusual kind of talisman, is it not? A jester`s bauble?'  

The old knight did not say anything. As they crossed a small brook some 
minutes later, he looked back to him. 'Sire Loreander´s uncle was the emperor`s 
jester for a long time. He was very clever. He knew a lot of tricks. Watching 
his performances was magnificent. He even made King Brondel-Glim laugh, as he 
visited Kerat after the great war against the orcish hordes."  
'The king of dwarf`s was amused by a jester?' 
Sir Keilon smiled. 'Not only a jester, corporal. I would call him a little 
wizard. A wizard, who drove your sorrows away.'  
'I have to thank you for it, Sir Keilon. It is a great honour for me to be 
your companion in arm.' Umanor put the little talisman into his pocket. 
'Honour keeps a man alive. It reveals your character and your behaviour. 
So, do not be led by your feelings only. Think of what you are doing. 
If you do well, honour can be a powerful alley.' 
Considering Sir Keilon´s words corporal Umanor closed up to him. 'This is a 
fine definition, Sir. I will not forget it.' 
The imperial knight kept smiling. 'I will pray to Golum, hoping that you will 
survive that clash. Maybe he has something special planned for you.'

The little group reached the forest late in the afternoon. Terrifying and 
gruesome the tall stunted grown trees reached up to the sky. Unshakeable like 
giant guards they seemed  to protect the dark wood. 
Silence and a ambringze of coldness came over the four men, as Sir Keilon got off 
his horse. 
'Be quit now! Send the horses to a safe place and be prepared for any conflict.'  
Umanor did as the elder knight said. Then, a few minutes later, he followed 
major Wolfenheart into the deep forest. Sneaking through the bushes Sir Keilon
and Captain Elson made their way silently. Searching for tracks the two men 
slowly moved forwards.  
'It is simple to follow an ogre`s track. Look here. Broken twigs and large 
foot marks. Even a blind can find their lair.' 
Captain Elson draw his crossbow. 'Must be two or three. They passed here for
about one hour. They went in north direction.' 
The skilful knight was followed by Sir Keilon, who calmly seized for his 
broadsword.  
'You better take your weapon, corporal. Can you smell that rancid stench?'

Umanor nodded. 'Aye, Sir. I can remember that stink.' Recalling his dead 
companions he carefully draw his claymore.  
Major Wolfenheart was the first, who discovered the mutilated corpse of Sir 
Gennek. Talking in sign language he informed Sir Keilon about his terrible find. 
As the brave knight knelt down at Sir Gennek´s side, he unrestrained starts to 
cry. 
'Your soul is in Golum`s sphere, my fellow. You were a good and loyal knight.'
'He was one of Sire Babec`s party.' Captain Elson mournfully bowed his head. 
'I hope we will find him alive. As you see, ogres do not take any prisoners.'  
Covering Sir Gennek´s body with some leafs and branches the little group 
walked on. 

'This forest is very scary. I can hear no birds, nor insects buzzing. The 
entire wood seems to be deserted.' 
Sir Keilon nodded. 'Aye, corporal. You are right. But I think we are not 
alone in here. The ogres will find us soon, if we are not careful enough.'  
Captain Elson tapped Umanor on his shoulder. 'Although you are young, corporal 
you do not show any fear. I am very impressed, but do not overestimate yourself.'  

Umanor just nodded. 'There was a mission I failed, captain. I think you have
been told about it.' 
The old veteran tried to smile. 'Yes, I heard about it. I do not reproach you 
with that. You just tried to keep alive. Your conscience is clear.'  
Wondering about his understanding Umanor tapped his shoulder. 'Thank you, 
captain. But I still feel guilty. I have lost friends and good companions. 
I hope to become a fearless and loyal knight like you or Sir Keilon.' 
Listening their conversation Major Wolfenheart starts greening. 'He is of the 
same opinion, corporal. You will be a knight. Loyal and brave. But we have to 
concentrate on the moment. This adventure is not over yet." 
'Adventure?', Umanor asked Elson. 'I think this is the greatest quest in my 
life. I pray that we will all survive that mission and that we will rescue 
Sire Babec.' 
'We will, corporal.' Sir Keilon looked back at him. 'You better be silent now. 
I feel great danger. I suppose, we will meet an ogrish patrol soon. 
Be prepared and if there is a conflict, fight for your life.' 

Umanor stopped talking. Looking to captain Elson he knew that he was well 
protected. 'Three knights and an inexperienced soldier', he thought. 
'What a pitiful escape attempt.'  
Hoping to see Borefiniannna again, Umanor kissed the little talisman. 
As suddenly Sir Keilon ordered them to find cover, he knew that the elder 
knight was right again. 
They were six. Evil, brutish and greedy. Staggering through the brushwood 
the fat and stinky creatures moved forwards. Mumbling in their animal like 
language the big ogres did not take any notice of the four men kneeling down 
behind some fern. 
Umanor swallowed, as he saw their huge clubs. Each of the weapon was equipped 
with metal or sharp splitters of stone. Typical for ogres the six man-eaters 
worn no armours but clothes made of leather. Their leader, a disgusting giant 
with long greasy hairs, belched as he passed Sir Keilon`s hiding-place.  
'Now', the imperial knight shouted. Piercing his broadsword into the ogre`s 
fat paunch the surprised creature fell backwards. Swinging the bloody blade 
Sir Keilon stormed forward attacking the ogre next to him. Before one of the 
creatures could react, the sizzling bolt of captain Elson`s crossbow hits an
ogre`s forehead. Groaning he fell over at Umanor`s feet. Killing the next 
ogre major Wolfenheart threw his hatchet. Umanor watched it flying.
As the axe stroke the creature down, Wolfenheart nodded satisfied.  

Three of the ogres were killed, before the others start to attack.  
'Hhhumaan', shouted one of them. 
'For colonel Moverrick', Umanor replied. Fearless he plunged his claymore 
in the ogre`s leg and pulled it off. The screaming creature tumbled forward 
him, but Umanor`s swift stroke slashed its unprotected body. As the howling 
giant broke down Umanor clouted him the coup de grace. 
'Not bad, corporal', captain Elson remarked and dragged his crossbow for 
another shot. 
'Do not let him escape', Sir Keilon shouted nervously. Smashing the head 
of his adversary he killed his second ogre. The last creature fearfully tried 
to run, but captain Elson was quicker. A click of his crossbow stopped him 
from escaping.  
  
'Is anybody wounded?', Sir Keilon asked. The three men denied. 'Well done, 
corporal. I saw your fight. You are a good swordsman. But you have to use 
your mind, if you will survive the next task.' 
Umanor felt unsure. 'What do you mean by that, Sir?'  

'He means that we have to plan our next step', captain Elson replied. 
We have to rescue Sire Babec. I do not believe that we can do this without 
any risk. We will meet more of these creatures, especially their shaman.' 
Umanor understood. 'How many ogres will we meet? One hundred or more?'  
Shrugging his shoulders captain Elson looked to Sir Keilon. 'Enough to be in 
trouble. I do not expect an entire legion, but at least fifty maybe less. 
This forest is not big enough to hide an ogrish army. So, there will be only 
the shaman and his lifeguard, I think.'  
Major Wolfenheart tore his axe out of the ogre`s body.  
'Let us go', he signalled with his head. Following Sir Keilon the small group 
walked on.  
  
The four men reached the ogrish base only few minutes later. 
Hidden in a hollow more than ten tents were put up only makeshift.
Decorated with furs and skins of leather the ogrish tents looked poor and 
shabby. A large campfire crackled in the middle of the camp. 

About twelve hungry ogres were sitting around the warm flames eating their 
abominable meal. Animal carcasses and even two broken up human bodies laid 
on the ground. Grunting and belching the awful creatures celebrated their 
victory. Near to them piled up on a heap, the imperial defeat was testified by 
broken weapons, helmets and armours. Two more ogres were standing by the loud 
group, guarding a maltreated prisoner. Both of them were armed with huge axes 
and their muscular bodies were protected by rusty chain mails.  
'The shaman`s lifeguard', Sir Keilon whispered in Umanor`s ear. 'Look, there 
he is.' Pointing at the fattest ogre of the group Sire Keilon discovered him 
finally.  
'Dear Golum, what a terrible creature, he is.' Umanor watched the shaman, as 
the spiritual leader rose up. The ogrish shaman was the biggest ogre Umanor 
had ever seen before. His bald head was covered by a crown made of feathers.
Runes and magic symbols were painted on his naked body and his face. 
He worn a short loincloth and bracelets of bones around his wrists.
A golden necklace dangled on his fat paunch, as he trudged to the unconscious 
man.  
Sir Keilon starred at the prisoner. He recognised the battered plate armour 
made of brass. He saw the two-handed sword at his feet and he saw Lord Babec´s 
torn banner in the mud.  

'He is the next. We will have to hurry up. Captain Elson this is your chance. 
Try to kill the shaman. Corporal Umanor and major Wolfenheart you both will 
distract the guards. I am going to rescue Sire Babec.' 
Without any further notice to the men Sire Keilon tried to descend the hollow.
'Quick, captain! Do not let him cast a spell.' 
Umanor looked at him. Captain Elson shot the bolt. But it did not reach its 
target. One of the guards grabbed on his neck. Then he broke down.  
'Damn all.' Captain Elson dragged his crossbow again, but major Wolfenheart 
was quicker. His thrown battle hatchet hits the shaman`s breast. Surprised 
by the unexpected attack the second guard reacted to slowly. Sir Keilon´s 
sword cut off his head from his shoulders.  
'Die you evil bastard. May your soul burn in hell.' The following stroke 
crushed the shamans skull. 'Come on, Sire Babec. It is me, Keilon.' 
As he pushed his companion desperately Sir Keilon starts to cry.
'Oh no. Not you.' 
Looking back to his men he saw captain Elson killing another roaring ogre.
Major Wolfenheart got on his side. Dragging his dagger he tried to cover
the lifeless body of Sire Babec. 

'Get him out of here', Sir Keilon shouted. Pulling Lord Babec`s shoulders 
the mute veteran tugged him out of the hollow. 
'Is he dead?', Umanor asked anxiously. 
'Not yet. I do not believe that there is much hope.' 
Captain Elson and major Wolfenheart carried the heavily injured knight through 
the undergrowth. Defending their flight Sir Keilon fended off any ogrish attack. 
Five ogres were slaughtered by his broadsword. With an ear-splitting howling the 
remaining creatures escape in the deep of the wood.  
  
It was late in the evening as Borefiniannna visited Fregor Umanor. The young 
corporal sat on a bench in front of the blacksmith`s tent. Polishing his 
claymore he sadly looked up to her. 
'He is dead, Mori. Elder Helferson could not bring him back to life. 
Lord Silverheart ordered to embalm him, so that he can be interred in
the Hall of the Heroes.' 

Borefiniannna took his hand. 'I am so happy that you returned. 
I prayed for Golum to protect you.' 
Umanor nodded. 'Yes, Mori. I am happy, too. Lord Silverheart and Sir Keilon 
are going to plan an attack. They try to break the siege around Kerat. 
I have to leave you again, Mori.' Borefiniannna looked into his eyes. 
'I do not let you go. Not again. You have been escaped one time.
Do it again and come with me.' 
Umanor tried to deny, but Borefiniannna`s warmth kiss made him consider. 
'Your war is over, corporal. Come and let us go to a safe place.'  
'I cannot go. I am not a coward anymore. Sir Keilon wants me as his companion.
I am loyal to him and to the emperor.' 
The beautiful maid turned back. 'You have to decide, Fregor. 
Me or them. You will be another dead soldier on the field. 
I pray that you will do the right thing.' 
Corporal Umanor watched her. Without looking back Borefiniannna left him alone. 
Undecided he stood up. Walking to her tent he tries to find a solution for
their problem. As he came closer to her tent, Umanor already knew the answer.  

Fly, my dragon, 
fly away 
through the shadows of the day 
through the darkness of the night; 
Fly, and be my guide. 

Fly, my dragon, 
fly so free 
both we know it has to bee 
both we know how it will end; 
Fly: become legend. 

Fly, my dragon, 
fly so far 
don't ask for the "Why" of war 
don't ask why we're living still; 
Fly, and keep vigil. 

Fly, my dragon, 
fly so fast 
this battle is our last 
the victory was dearly paid; 
Fly, our grave is made. 

Fly, my dragon, 
fly away 
let the moon us lead astray 
to the stars high in the sky; 
Fly, we have to die. 

Als ich noch Drache war, 
gab es richtig und falsch, 
und getan wurde, 
was getan werden wollte. 
Waren wir hungrig, so jagten wir 
hoch in den Himmeln 
und in den Tiefen der Seen, 
auf den Steppen 
und durch die Waelder, 
und wir lachten im Takt unserer Herzen, 
tranken Blut, 
lebten doch in Harmonie.  

Als ich noch Drache war, 
gluehte ich vor Freude und Stolz 
ueber das, was ich war, 
nur nannten wir es nicht, 
denn warum beschreiben, was in den 
Augen jedes lebenden Wesens glimmt? 

Und als wir erwachten 
aus unserem Traum, 
da sahen wir uns um 
und sahen uns von Menschen umringt. 
Die, die es konnten, schwangen sich auf 
und glitten auf ihren Schwingen fort, 
immer hoeher bis hinter den Mond, 
ließen die Sonne hinter sich 
und uns zurueck.  

Unsere Schwingen verkuemmert 
und die Klauen zerbrochen, 
Zaehne verstuemmelt und abgestumpft, 
der Glanz verliess die Augen 
und das Feuer unsere Herzen.  

Und was bleibt, 
sind Erinnerungen an einen Traum 
von Freiheit und Wahrheit. 
Zwei Worte von Menschen erdacht, 
die das Gefuehl, das sie beschreiben, nicht kennen. 

Drachen von Nemsis 
So kuehl, so gross 
Fliegen ueber Berge 
Voll Schnee und Eis 
Glauben an Wunder 
Glauben an die Nacht 
Haben das Wunder vollbracht 
Der unendlichen Liebe sich  
Zu ergeben 
Und dabei die Traeume der Nacht 
Zu fangen 
Drachen von Nemsis sind ueberall 
Sie suchen dich! 
Sie finden dich... 

Am Morgen hoert' ich, wie jaeh Stimmen brachen. 
Um Mittag dann gingst du von hier. 
Am Abend sah ich einen Himmelsdrachen. 
Und in der Nacht kam er zu mir. 
Er fluesterte ein Lied in fremden Sprachen: 
"Ich nehm' dich mit weit fort von hier 
zu einem Ort in mir, an dem wir Sachen machen, 
die tief verborgen ruhn in dir." 
Ich durfte im dunkeln Feuer entfachen, 
durfte spielend in Spiegel sehn, 
sah darin Liebe, sah beide uns lachen, 
konnte endlich Freiheit verstehn. 
Und ewige Treue wir uns versprachen, 
tanzten befreit durch helle Nacht, 
mit Messern in unsere Herzen stachen, 
bis neues Leben war erwacht. 
Am Morgen stieg ich aus rauchendem Rachen. 
Um Mittag dann kamst du hierher. 
Am Abend sah ich nicht den Himmelsdrachen, 
doch seinen Kuss, den gabst Du mir.

Wie aus gluehendrotem Stahl 
steht er stolz am rand der Schlucht 
Stets nur hatte er die wahl 
niemals war er auf der Flucht 
Furchteinregend seine Pranken 
seine Schwingen stark und weit 
leicht nur zittern seine Flanken 
doch er spuert, es ist soweit 

Alle hat er stets besiegt 
keiner hatte eine Chance 
sieht sich, wie er zu den Sternen fliegt 
und verfaellt ganz leicht in Trance 
denkt an die vergangnen Zeiten 
grosse Taten, starkes Herz 
Zeit sich jetzt vorzubereiten 
sonst zermuerbt ihn noch der Schmerz 

Langsam sinkt er jetzt hernieder 
hoert sie rufen wie von fern 
Seichter Wind streift durch's Gefieder 
Stolzer Drache Feuerstern

Teufelsdrachen auf der Jagd 
hoeren wenn ein Menschlein klagt 
nichts als Rache oder Schmerzen 
Kaelte kriecht durch ihre Herzen 
Immer weiter graebt sie sich 
frisst sich durch und achtet nicht 
auf Gefuehle die dort wohnen 
niemanden gilt es zu schonen 
Nehmen alles,geben nichts 
lachen dir noch in's Gesicht 
dort ein Herz, feurig und heiß 
jetzt ist es aus schwarzem Eis 

Elfenfeuer brennt im Turm 
Lichter flackern wild im Sturm 
werfen Schatten an's Gemaeuer 
in ihrem Kopf nur Ungeheuer 
Trockene Traenen, nie geweint 
etwas hatte sie vereint 
Alles was sie jemals wollte 
ein Schwur der niemals brechen sollte 
Bilder aus vergangnen Tagen 
unbeantwortete Fragen 
Wilder Schmerz  der in ihr kreist 
und sie in die Tiefe reißt 
gnadenlose Geister singen 
ihr Lied von der Einsamkeit 
Leises Schluchzen, lautes Klagen 
heut will Shari Trauer tragen...

Eiskaltes Wasser 
das Herz schlaegt ruhig 
Schimmernder Mond 
die Seele brennt. 
Blinkende Sterne 
die Augen leuchten 
Zirpende Grillen  
die Flanken beben. 

Ein Windstoss rauscht 
die Fluegel schlagen 
Die Wolken fliehen 
die Freiheit ruft! 

Kuehl ist die Luft 
mein Atem heiss 
Still ist die Nacht 
mein Herz singt laut. 

Weiter Himmel 
der Mond nickt gruessend 
Die Nacht erwacht 
wenn der Nachtdrache fliegt.