The Ballad of the Dungeons of Dol Guldur

The wait is over. The excitement has proved too much, the clamour to hear Rhiannon ‘s poem has grown too loud! The world wishes, nay demands, to read it now.

So here it is. By Rhiannon, official-poet-in-residence.

Now settle yourselves down, relax with a cuppa, take off your wigs and light your pipes. Like the Dungeons, the ballad is long, unlike the Dungeons it is not interminable.

Enjoy. The Ballad of the Dungeons of Dol Guldur by Rhiannon (new official poet-in-residence for Berath’s Brain Burps). Here.

Arise all people of Middle Earth,
It’s time to prove your metal and worth!
What heroes now will heed the call?
Who will cause the tyrant’s fall?

In Dol Guldur, so dark and damp,
Three steadfast friends commenced to camp.
And why would these three, so  bold and brash
Submit to danger and possible lash?

The Warden with his powerful dread
Had prisoners to the darkness fed.
Some noble elves so fair of face,
Resisted the cruelty of the place.

Deep within the heart of stone,
Their very beds filled with bones,
They waited, hoping not in vain,
For some brave folk who were insane.

So, Otroki, Qanien, and of course, Rhi
Were so naturally the companions three.

Into the fortress the three did tread,
The trolls they studied, plans were said.
Then slowly with a snail’s great pace,
They set about to save those fair of face.

Around the corners Qanien peered
While Rhi and Otroki drank some beers.
Up and down the guarded halls,
He watched and listened for troll footfalls.

The elves they found and something more
Things that were twisted behind the doors.
Sentries, keepers, prisoners broken
Soon were dead without words spoken.

One troll, two troll, who said four?
Otroki said, “Beware the door!”
“Behind it could stand the missing troll.”
Rhiannon’s laughter began to roll.

Then with movements ne’er rehearsed,
The trolls sedated (nothing worse,)
The elves were led with hurrying step
To the courtyard, they fairly leapt.

Of course that was when they didn’t cower,
Rhiannon’s mood began to sour.
“The door’s just there?Why don’t they go?”
“Are they expecting some floor show?”

So, on and on, the trio went
Until the night was quite well spent.
And finally when they turned around,
Nine elves were there, standing ground.

Oh, Otroki, Qanien, and of course, Rhi,
Sometimes you probably should just flee.

Then came The Warden with robes elite
Does he realize he has no feet?
Otroki yelled and tapped his shield
As the specter shouted, “Yield!”

“Get it in the corner,” Rhiannon screamed.
The elves came running like some bad dream.
The battle engaged, the arrows flew
The minstrel sang and played tunes she knew.

Otroki banged and yelled and taunted,
His underwear he fairly flaunted
Anything to keep The Warden’s eye
And keep him from having Elven pie.

The eyes of red were passed around,
As one and all bravely held their ground.
“The elves, the elves,” Qanien ranted.
Whilst the minstrel fairly panted.

“Oh, hush,” said Rhi rather terse
The words she actually  used were worse
“It’s hard enough without YOUR guff!”
And things from there got rather rough.

For when The Warden gave voice to fear,
And our three companions had no choice to hear,
They ran like chickens not quite dead
Running about without their heads.

Be brave, Otroki, Qanien, and Rhi!
The end is near, do you not see?

It was then Rhiannon began to doubt,
That she really had the clout,
To keep these Elves from the death they sought
But stubborn she is, or so they thought.

Suddenly, a thunk and groan!
The robed tormentor gave a moan.
The elves they cheered and gave a shout
And made a break for the way out.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven
Were the elves NOT gone to heaven.
Rhiannon gasped, Otroki shouted,
Qanien, the hunter, actually pouted.

“The one I needed!  At the last minute dead!”
It was then Rhiannon bonked his head.
And then the heroes’ cheers abounded
And the treasure they passed arounded.

What was this noise?  What did they hear?
Was there something left to fear?
Was it the troll behind the door?
Ah, it was simply Legotho’s snore.

Hooray, Otroki, Qanien, and Rhi!
The Elves they owe a debt to thee!

My Dice collection: Conveyance

I’ve been very busy lately. I’ve joined a gym and I’ve been playing a bit more LOTRO; some alting here and there and trying to level up my crafting. This has meant I have neglected Berath’s Brain Burps a trifle. However, in advance of the highly anticipated exploration of my gaming dice collection, I have found time to photograph my Dice Bags to make a start.

I think Dice Bags (and Boxes) are often neglected when it comes to gaming dice collections. This is unfair. After all if it were not for our bags and boxes, our dice would just keep on falling all over the floor whenever we tried to take them about the place. And then where would we be? Well certainly not gaming beyond the confines of our own homes.

Anyway I have three Dice Bags.

This bag is small and portable. My dice travel in this when I game away. Of course it only fits a small selection of my collection. I choose the dice I am most likely to need, for instance D10s for White Wolf games.

This is my storage bag. If you look closely you can see that it has a small matching flower pinned to the side, covered in gold sequins.

And this bag is for Special. I liked it because I think it looks like Cthulhu.

Exciting Announcement for the readership

An exciting moment has come for Berath’s Brain Burps and the readership.

I have never hidden my, possibly somewhat controversial, opinion that one can never have too many poets. I mean this in general. Neither could there ever be a surfeit of poetry.

To this end I have included verses composed not just by myself but also by my highly talented kinmates, in this Blog.

Now some of you may have noticed or even read the last two poems posted by Rhiannon, one of our minstrels. She has now composed a third.

Impressed by her creative enthusiasm and unwillingness to stop, I have offered Rhiannon the position of Berath’s Brain Burp’s poet-in-residence. And to my pleasure she has accepted. Terms and conditions have been negotiated. I shall be paying Rhiannon in pies and hope tokens. In return Rhiannon shall compose poetry whenever she feels like it.

The latest poem, or ballad in this case; it’s long  as befits it’s subject matter – the Dungeons of Dol Guldur, will be published in due course. Possibly after a post I am composing on my dice collection. But in the meantime, let us all raise a glass to poetry and massively multiplayer online role-playing games; may they be entwined forever. Huzzah.