Memento Mori
Wherein we remember the fallen
Home or:
Grumble Gwoodwom
A mossling fighter who composted on the xx of Grimvold 1089
A characteristic of mosslings is that they sort of appear unnoticed, such that parties suddenly or gradually become aware of them. Grumble's passing was noticed, however, as he downed a foul crookhorn on Droomen Knoll before its companions overwhelmed him. He perished ere he could receive the ministrations of Goodsman Emory.
What His Comrades Have to Say
Our comrade who we barely knew
Slain by one who ate Woodgrue
He said not a lot
Now interred in a pot
Oh Grumble, we will miss you
On this mossy knoll lay thee down and rest, oh knight of few opinions, or at least none of us were the wiser.
O Grumble you fearsome mossling knight
You slew crookhorns aplenty in perlious fight
You said few words
and spoke with swords
We'll never again know one of your might!
Inspector Shiitake
Being a grimalkin who jaunted back the Fairy Farm on the 28th of Grimvold 1089, in mortal reckoning
Inspector Shiitake found his investigations cut short in a dramatic confrontation with Paronax and his Mycotaur. Like other grimalkins, his physical form in the mortal realm was sustained only by fey magic, and one imagines he has returned to the land of Fairy, leaving nothing but his worldly goods behind. Legend speaks of a farm where grimalkins retire once their time in the mortal realm is finished, a place they can lick their wounds before perhaps trying their luck again.
While uncovering mysteries deep underground
Padding past nursery and pool without sound
Near a clock-worker got clobbered
After a fungus-scientist he bothered
The Inspector's walloping days no longer abound
What His Comrades Have to Say
Chook chook chook chook bgaaaaw!
Man, this forest sucks. Why couldn't we live somewhere else? But I guess cat people are kinda cool.
Kappy Moonmoon
Being a woodgrue bard and having perished on the 28th of Grimvold 1089
Oh what can ail thee, woodgrue bard, alone and echolocating? The sedge has withered from the Blacke, and no birds sing. Oh what can ail thee, woodgrue bard, so mouldered and so woe-begone? The woodland guano heap is full, and the nest is done. I see a web upon thy brow, with anguish moist and fever-dew, and on they neck a dwimmer'd robe, fast fadeth too.
Small in stature but large in voice
Kappy invited friend and foe to rejoice
Wielded fishfop's ale
Now beyond the 'grue pale
Kappy's locating still echoes, without our choice
What His Comrades Have to Say
Did you know woodgrues poop on a big pile in the woods?!?
Morning's-Last-Mists
Being an elven enchanter and having given up his mortal excursion on the 28th of Grimvold 1089, in mortal reckoning
The last thing to fade away when Morning's-Last-Mists rejoined his Fairy compatriots was the harp on his back. Naturally, it sang a completely inappropriate song as its owner departed the mortal realm.
Bearing a harp with bawdy songs replete
He Suffered camping amidst snow and sleet
Obedient in Paronax's thrall
Chased escapees down the hall
His faerie presence was always a treat
What His Comrades Have to Say
I'm gonna miss the naughty songs his harp sang at bedtime.
Windor Eleye
Being a breggle hunter and having fallen on the 28th of Grimvold 1089
The wonderful thing about breggles is breggles are wonderful things. Especially when they turn themselves blue. Then they're one of a kind. It is also a well known fact that breggles hate spider webs. Alas.
Bard-dunked along the path's way
She faced danger with nary a bray
Pal to Dusty
Always trusty
In a web forever to stay
What Her Comrades Have to Say
I never saw a blue breggle before. Did you know she had a moth?
Wumble Gwoodwom
Being a mossling fighter and having composted on the 28th of Grimvold 1089
Wumble found considerably greater success than Grumble, though you may notice that neither survived the entire month of Grimvold. He will have the last laugh, however, since the tree that sprouted from his severed finger will continue to grow long after he is nothing but mulch. Curiously, even in death he cannot touch the ground. The tree that remains will float as long as it lives, serving as a source of endless study and speculation on the part of whoever finds it later.
Quiet companion in our rescuing band
Stout and sturdy, less a finger from one hand
He hoarded his treasures
Then joined mycological defense measures
Whistled a tune and unwove the rope of life's strand
What His Comrades Have to Say
That was a mossling? I just thought all the trees and bushes in this place looked the same.