[Georgi]

Amira glanced around the smoky bar of the Lady's Blessing tavern. Yes, as usual, this was rich pickings. More wealthy fools drinking and gambling away their evenings. Perfect. She took up a position on a bar stool by the wall - prominent, but not dominating the whole room - unslung her lute from her shoulder and quietly began to tune it. She smiled to herself. The patrons would receive a real lady's blessing tonight.

Amira scrolled mentally through her repertoire. One of those boring old tales of glorious heroes, she supposed; they always went down well in such sleepy backwaters, where the adventuring life was so far removed from the mundane reality of nobleman and peasant alike. Mind you, there did seem to be the odd blade glinting when the flickering candlelight banished the shadows in the corners of the room. Must be another caravan in, bound for Calimport, perhaps. Even better; the mercenaries fancied themselves as heroes of yore, even though the closest most of them got to an epic battle was a skirmish with a few kobolds on the dusty road between one town and another.

Amira's mind lit upon a tale she had heard in Amn recently. She cleared her throat and, with a flourish, put her fingers to the strings of her lute and began to strum.

A tale I sing of eastern hills
Of shining knights and glory-o!
So rest thy feet and drink thy fill
Awhilst I weave my story-o!

Adventurers to the place came hence
Seeking orcs a-which to slay
But lured under false pretence
A darker shadow that way lay

Fearsome orcs and ogres burned
Along the path to dungeon dark
The monsters slain, yet bodies turned
To squires of the Radiant Heart

Whence had this illusion sprung
To tarnish heroes brave and true?
Righteous vengeance must be done
A violent, bloody death was due

On they plunged through goblins, wraiths
Through vampyres, werewolves, golems too
Deep into the bowels of the earth
To face an enemy none knew

The great and terrible Firkraag
A dragon red with fiery breath
A sulphorous stench to make you gag
Rose from his lair of burning death

Never a faltering step was taken
Against such might to stand or fall
But Firkraag's luck was gods-forsaken
Against the wrath of a Child of Bhaal

The wyrm exhaled scorching flames
Our heroes ducked and weaved around
While mages cast their spells to tame
The rampant beast and bring him down

An archer drew his trusty bow
A desperate charge was forward led
The Bhaalspawn struck a fatal blow
To sever Firkraag's evil head

They say Bhaal's spawn bring death and pain
But not just innocent blood was spilled
Thus ended Firkraag's despot reign
And peace returned to eastern hills