As Performed by Thalen Quickstrings, Bard of Questionable Accuracy and Unquestionable Confidence
(Recorded in the taverns of the Western Road, embellished further each time he told it.)

1. When the Moon Refused to Shine

Gather close, good folk,
for this is a tale of shadow and fire,
of courage so vast it bent the night itself.

This is the tale of Dragonsneer,
the mountain‑breaker,
the storm‑caller,
the man whose cloak has more stories than most kingdoms.

And this is the tale of the Invidia Warriors,
his silent shadows,
his eternal blades,
the ones who walk where fear itself refuses to tread.

And, of course,
the tale of the Morkoft,
a creature so ancient
the world had nearly forgotten it
— and so hungry
it intended to remind us.

Now, some say I exaggerate.
Some say I embellish.
Some say I was not there.

To them I say:

“If you wanted accuracy, you should’ve hired a historian.”

For I, Thalen Quickstrings,
was present on that dread night
—or near enough to count—
and this is how Dragonsneer and his Invidia Warriors
saved us all.

1. The Beast in the Ruins

The Morkoft rose in the shattered ruins of Old Karthun,
where the moonlight dared not fall.

It was a thing of bone‑spines and shadow‑smoke,
with eyes like dying embers
and a mouth that opened sideways.

Its roar cracked the stones.
Its breath froze the air.
Its hunger reached for the world like a hand.

I will not lie —
I considered fleeing.

But Dragonsneer strode forward,
cloak snapping like a banner of defiance.

Behind him, the Invidia Warriors emerged from the darkness:

• The Chainmail Guardians, shields emblazoned with the dragon‑slain sigil, pikes gleaming like starlight.
• The Cloaked Archers, silent as breath, their spectral bows shimmering with ghost‑fire.

They did not speak.
They never do.

Dragonsneer raised his staff, fire curling around its tip.

“Beast!” he bellowed.
“Face us, and know fear!”

The Morkoft did not know fear.
But it learned.

III. The Battle of Old Karthun

The Morkoft struck first,
shadow‑claws carving trenches in the stone.

The Chainmail Guardians met the blow head‑on,
shields locking, pikes thrusting with perfect unity.
Their formation did not break.
It never breaks.

The Cloaked Archers vanished into the ruins,
their arrows appearing from impossible angles,
each shot guided by whispers only they could hear.

Dragonsneer charged,
his greatsword blazing with firelight
as if the sun itself had lent him its fury.

And I —
I played my lute, of course —
a melody sharp as steel,
bright as courage,
and loud enough to drown out my own terror.

(Dragonsneer later claimed he did not hear me.
He lies.
He hears everything.)

1. The Moment All Seemed Lost

The Morkoft lashed out,
striking Dragonsneer across the chest
and sending him crashing into a broken pillar.

The Guardians closed ranks around him.
The Archers rained spectral fire upon the beast.
But the Morkoft was ancient,
older than kingdoms,
older than the moon’s first crack.

It would not fall easily.

Dragonsneer rose.

Slowly.
Painfully.
Unstoppably.

He planted his sword in the ground
and pushed himself upright,
blood running down his arm.

“Not yet,” he growled.
“Not while my Warriors stand.”

The Morkoft hesitated.

And that was its mistake.

1. The Fall of the Morkoft

Dragonsneer charged.

The Guardians surged with him,
pikes striking in perfect rhythm.
The Archers unleashed a final volley,
their arrows burning through shadow.

Dragonsneer’s blade found the creature’s heart —
if such a thing it had —
and drove through shadow and bone.

The Morkoft shrieked,
a sound that shook the world,
and collapsed into dust and silence.

The night breathed again.

The stars returned.

And Dragonsneer,
bloodied but unbowed,
looked upon the fallen beast and said:

“Someone fetch the bard.
He’ll want to write this down.”

And I did.

Historian’s Footnote

Appended by Archivist Meredin Thale, Royal Historian of the Third Library of Sarene

Editor’s Note:
While Thalen Quickstrings’ rendition of the “Fall of the Morkoft” is undeniably stirring, it contains several… questionable assertions.

1. Thalen was not present.
   Records place him performing at the Copper Mare Inn in Westbridge on the night in question.
2. The Invidia Warriors were not present.
   No credible account places Dragonsneer’s elite warriors anywhere near Old Karthun during this period.
3. The Morkoft was not “moon‑darkening.”
   Surviving sketches depict a creature approximately twelve feet tall.
4. The final blow was not delivered solely by Dragonsneer.
   Several accounts suggest the creature collapsed due to internal instability rather than a killing strike.
5. The bard’s lute playing had no recorded effect on the battle.
   Dragonsneer’s journals make no mention of music of any kind.

Readers are encouraged to enjoy Quickstrings’ performance,
but not to cite it in academic work.

⭐ Future Scholar’s Commentary

Added in the Seventh Edition by Professor Liraen Vos, Chair of Heroic Studies at the University of New Sarene

Scholarly Addendum:
Archivist Thale’s footnote reflects the overly literalist approach common to historians of his era. Modern scholarship has revised several of his conclusions.

1. On Thalen’s Presence:
   Recent travel‑log analysis suggests Quickstrings could have reached Old Karthun in time. Dismissing the possibility outright is now considered academically irresponsible.
2. On the Invidia Warriors:
   Thale’s claim that they were “not present” is based on incomplete records. The Invidia Warriors are notoriously difficult to track, and several oral traditions place them in the region during this period.
3. On the Morkoft’s Size:
   Rune‑resonance studies indicate the creature’s shadow‑mass extended far beyond its physical form, supporting Quickstrings’ description of a “moon‑darkening” presence.
4. On the Final Blow:
   Dragonsneer’s sword carried an anomalous energy signature at the moment of impact. Whether this was due to latent potential, environmental factors, or the coordinated efforts of the Invidia Warriors remains contested.
5. On the Bard’s Influence:
   While Dragonsneer’s journals omit mention of music, several oral traditions claim the bard’s melody “cut through the creature’s scream.”
   This may represent a lost magical discipline or simply poetic metaphor.

In conclusion:
Quickstrings’ tale, though embellished, preserves truths that earlier historians failed to appreciate.
The line between legend and history remains thinner than Thale believed.