The bard ran through the verses to himself in a kind of mumble, then cleared his throat and picked up on the last stanza.
Bring us peace where war has rot,
And save us from the sting
Of he what roameth our land so low
With blood on mind and teeth...
The whole troupe gathered around him timidly as Zepp formed his next question. It was the question on everyone's minds, it was suffice to say by the looks on their faces. It was on Elwin's mind as well and he answered before the leader could ask it. “A Scorpion, sir. He is said to wander these parts and strike without mercy. But this is... well, this is a very old song, mind you. He's probably long gone by now, or killed by a giant.”
Orvin Dafshire stepped forward bravely, long-spear in hand. “But you're saying there's only one.”
“According to the song,” replied the bard nervousy, “but again, it's a very old song.”