Autumn Excitement (H/S1/E1/I1)

Windy Bog went for a jog,
And came around a bend.
The smell of hickory hit her nose,
And made dreams of autumn blend.
The leaves were red, and orange and brown
And yellow, her favorite shades,
And the Fairwood festival would soon be here.
The Great Songwriter she praised.

The leaves of Fairwood were like no other
Their size dwarfed normal breeds.
Just like the source from which they came.
Fairwood’s great Mora trees.
The leaves could reach three feet in length
And their trees would often be,
Much too high for even
The soaring eagles to see.

The trees were hollowed out for buildings
From houses to City Halls.
In the rural areas the canopy
Was trimmed around 20 feet tall.
In the markets and the public grounds,
They trimmed it higher still
This quiet, forest, island home
Was for her, quite a thrill.

She sang and watched the magic
From her voice’s use
The swirling colors of the leaves
Happily reproduce.
For the magic in the world she lived
Was the music and the sound
Mingling with the physical world
Creating effects to which they were bound.
A battle song wouldn’t just rouse an army
It’d inspire the earth to fight.
Trees would strike out as living extensions
Of the song’s pure might.
This was used not just for battle
But for everyday life.
The songs of the World of Harmadonia
Were full of heavenly light.

But not everyone appreciated
Magic in this way.
Windy’s song was interrupted,
As was her simple play.
Her older brother Cruncher,
Warbled a garbled note.
The leaves turned gray and her flying song
Fluttered down to a float.

Cruncher: “Come on! It’s time to get to work
You lazy little dreamer!
The only song you should be singing
Should run the big clothes steamer!”

Windy sighed and apologized,
Her chores she knew she’d shirked.

Windy: “But you know, Cruncher,” She said with a smile,
“There’s more to life than work.
I have a feeling that very soon
Our lives will change a lot.”

She turned back to their humble home,
And off to do chores she walked.

Trouble In Ka’Lanner’s Courts (H/S1/E1/I2)

The red and orange banners
Fluttered in the breeze.
Ka’Lanner was in full vestige
For The birthday of Queen Rhys.
The summer air was slightly cool
For that time of year,
And all the giant windows were open
In The Ballroom of Gan Mir.

The people dressed in bright colors,
Both men and women alike.
All land owners had been invited
To celebrate from dawn ’til night.
But the brightest colors of them all,
Clothed the royal ones.
Whose raiments bore colors so splendid,
Jealous would be the sun.

King Cortano, his wife, Queen Rhys,
And The Crown Prince Fortinato,
Sat atop the twelve-step-dais
With smiles and bravado.
Well, all were sat except Prince Fort,
Who paced and surveyed the event.
He smiled at his mother’s
Wonderful celebration present.

The Boomaharpists played their songs,
And everyone danced with joy.
Down below In the harbor, ships were let in,
As the foliage ’round did enjoy
The magic of the songs
Heard from the open balconies,
But little did they know what came
Would leave such terrible agonies.

Moments later, commotion was heard,
Down below in the courtyard.
The Boomaharpists stopped their song,
As did the singing bards.
The soldiers ran to the balconies,
And saw ladders being set,
As pirates began to climb up,
Each bearing a simple cutlass.

The people fled away from the windows,
And soldiers and commanders rushed forth.
The King was there with his Tower Bass,
As was the young Prince Fort.
He pulled out his boomaharp and joined
The bards that rang their bells
And the other boomaharpists who played so loud,
The song began to swell.
Ivy tangled pirates on the wall,
The troops began to cheer.
But soon there were too many pirates,
And the men began to fear.

Soon they were inside,
And the fighting commenced,
But for Fort, it didn’t last very long.
As he was hit from behind and silenced.

Tales Of The Winged Isle (H/S1/E1/I3)

On the first day of the Fairwood Festival,
Most were shopping for goods.
Some merchants only came once a year
And everyone thought one should.
But Windy went on day one,
Every year to see-
Darris, The great Centaur-Bard
Tell stories of the brave and free.

He came a long way from Alogolis.
Home of all his kind,
Centaurs didn’t travel abroad very often,
But, he never did mind.
For he was growing old in years,
And his heart longed to see,
All the places told to him in stories
Of the brave and the free.

His white beard, mane, and coat
Sat against his dark blue cloak.
And a white ruffled shirt underneath that,
And a beautiful firefly broach.
His hooves tapped the ground and all who gathered
Sat in attention to hear,
The stories of Darris The Centaur-Bard.
And his travels both far and near.

Darris: “Thank you all for coming today.
It’s a privilege to be here.
Now if you’d be so very kind,
Please lend me your ear.
For I have tales to tell,
Of a place of mystery.
North of here, The Winged Isle.
And what there I did see?

Well as you know, the place seems deserted
To the naked eye.
A simple, dessert, table-land
On crags that reach the sky.
The only thing that we can spot
From the cliffs at sea,
Are The spiraling spires of Kashlawn Spier.
The ruined castle that once was free.

Yet no one knows the mysterious answer
Of this exotic place.
How did they build on these cliffs,
Without a single trace-
Of a footpath, pulleys, or ropes?
Some people have their thoughts,
But some suspect there were people who lived there.
With wings to fly like hawks.”

Windy’s heart began to soar.
These were her favorite tales.
Legends of The Winged People.
Who flew over the wind’s great gales.
It did not matter to her,
Which specific tale it was.
The stories of The Winged People
Set Windy’s heart a-buzz.

After hearing the tale
Of battles and romance,
Darris told them of his journeys
And broke them out of their trance.

Darris: “And at the beginning of this year,
The Winged Isle I passed.
But what I saw was something amazing,
That in my mind will last…”

He had them all on the edge of their seats,
While he paused for dramatic power.

Darris: “I saw smoke rising
From Kashlawn Spier’s tallest tower.”

A collective gasp came from the crowd.
But some followed up with laughs.
Darris said farewell to them all,
And some put money in his hat.

Windy made to do so too.
But something caught her eye.
Four pirates were shoving a handsome slave boy.
And striking him, making him cry.

Tattle-tale (H/S1/E1/I4)

Windy couldn’t bear to watch.
Slave traders could be so cruel.
Especially the Pirate kind,
Who treated people like tools.

So she decided quickly,
To go tell Papa Bog.
She thought he might be back at home.
So she ran. She didn’t jog.

Papa Bog adopted many kids,
Herself and most of her siblings.
She hoped he’d adopt the handsome one,
Whose cross in her ears were ringing.
But he generally didn’t adopt one
At that late an age.
She had been a baby
When her life turned that page.

Her home wasn’t that far away
From the East end of the fair.
The leaves crunched beneath her loudly.
As the wind blew through her hair.

But as her family’s treehouse
Came over the hill into sight
Windy’s blood ran cold in her veins,
As panic gripped her tight.
Pirates with the same tattoos
That the earlier pirates had,
Were pouring something around her home-tree.
That could be nothing but bad.

Windy’s scream pierced the air,
As she bolted toward their sheds.

Pirate: “Stop you little Tattle-tale!
Stop our else you’re dead!”

Bogs Vs. Pirates (H/S1/E1/I5)

The sheds the Bogs owned were smaller Moras,
Hollowed out at the base.
It probably wasn’t a great place to hide.
But Windy just wanted to escape.
The pirates charged right after her
And cursed her all the way,
But soon hot steam poured out of the laundry shed,
And kept the pirates at bay.

Windy knew the voices that she heard singing songs,
Singing about deep steam cleaning.
It was her oldest brothers, Cruncher and Muncher, saving get with their singing.

The pirates were scalded by the streaming heat,
And they quickly abandoned their route.
Soon Billy and Randy both gave Chase,
With pitchfork and shovel they pursued!

Windy hunkered down in the shed she’d got to,
But there were no weapons around.
Not at least until Cindy, Lilly, and Mandy
All gathered around.
Lilly handed Windy a simple knife
And they each held one of their own.

Windy: “Oh thank Songwriter!
Where is Filly?”

Lilly: “She’s up in the crow’s nest alone.”

As if to punctuate Filly’s presence,
A shot from Filly’s crossharp struck
One of the pirates in the backside.
Windy knew that wasn’t luck.

Windy saw Papa Bog approaching now,
With his Gora Horn in his right hand.
The pirates cowered as he approached.

Papa Bog: “Get out! GET OFF MY LAND!”

The pirates fled as quick as they could,
And Windy’s sisters kissed her hard.
And they all ran out at a jog.
They all congratulated one another,
Then Windy alone to Papa Bog.

Windy: “There is a boy in town my age.
He was captured by pirates like this!
Most of is siblings you adopted from slave-trade.
We simply must assist!”

Papa Bog: “We don’t gotta do anything!
Papa Bog growled.
I ain’t giving those sea rats money!
Besides, that’s another growing mouth to feed!
Windy, do you think this is funny?!”

Windy looked down at her feet
And sadly dropped her knife.

Cruncher: “Hey Papa! She saved our home!
She alerted us to the fight!”

Momma Bog, and Filly arrived, from their house’s crow’s nest.
Momma Bog put a hand on his shoulder.

Momma Bog: “Dear, it’s for the best.
We always have more room in there.
We can always feed more folks.”

Papa Bog: “Well not this time, Neefa!
This is not a joke!
… Still, you were the one who raised the alarm.
And I’m awfully proud of you, young one.
What do you say we go down to the festival,
And you can pick anything your heart is set on.”

Windy smiled happily,
For the simple compromise.
The Bogs cheered her and shouted
Windy’s praises to the skies.