A Song to Bahamut
In the heart of the bustling city of Pellak, where the flames of war licked the sky and the somber echoes of preparation reverberated through its streets, stood the tallest tower, a solemn sentinel amidst chaos. It soared above the smoldering ruins like a beacon of both hope and despair, its ancient stones bearing witness to the tumultuous history of the land.
Squire Tomas Waverly, moved with purpose through the labyrinthine corridors of the tower, his steps echoing softly against the cold, weathered stone. His worn armor clinked faintly with each stride, a testament to the battles he had fought and the songs he had sung in their wake.
Ascending the winding staircase, Tomas emerged onto the tower's pinnacle, where the night air whispered secrets of impending conflict. Below, the city stirred with activity, its people and armies gathering like ants preparing for war. But amidst the chaos, Tomas remained undeterred, his gaze fixed upon a higher purpose.
With practiced hands, he retrieved his lute, its wood polished to a warm sheen by countless nights spent entertaining throughout Oerth. Beside it lay a spool of wrought wire, gleaming softly in the moonlight. This was no ordinary wire, but a relic of ancient power, forged from the tears of a dragon who attacked the city, a dragon Tomas believes to be Aryvistarax, an Ancient Bronze of legendary renown.
As Tomas carefully restrung his lute with the shimmering wire, a sense of solemn reverence settled over him. He could feel the weight of history in his hands, the legacy of heroes and villains woven into each chord. And as he plucked the strings, a haunting melody began to take shape, echoing through the stillness of the night.
Above, the heavens seemed to hold their breath as all three of Oerth's moons – Celene, Luna, and Liga – hung suspended in the sky, their silvery light casting an ethereal glow upon the world below. It was a rare convergence, a celestial dance witnessed only once in a generation, and Tomas knew that his song must match its solemn majesty.
Before he began his solemn serenade, Tomas Waverly paused, his gaze falling upon the recent gift bestowed upon him - the Chain of Recall. It gleamed softly in the moonlight, a delicate yet potent artifact given to him by a mysterious benefactor. With a determined resolve, Tomas reached out and affixed the chain to his lute, intertwining its links with the strings and the gleaming wire forged from dragon tears.
In doing so, he hoped to harness any latent magic within the it, seeking to imbue his performance with its mysterious properties. Perhaps, he mused, the enchantments woven into its very essence would amplify his song, carrying it to the ears of Aryvistarax. Or perhaps, as a tribute to Bahamut, the Platinum Dragon and God of Good Dragons, he could offer the chain as a sacrifice, a gesture of devotion in exchange for a boon in these troubled times.
With a silent prayer upon his lips, Tomas began to strum his lute once more, the chain shimmering faintly as it resonated with the music. Whether by magic or by faith, he felt a connection forming, a bridge between the mortal realm and the divine. And as his voice rose to meet the heavens, he poured his heart and soul into his song, hoping that his words would reach the ears of the gods themselves.
In realms where legends weave their tale,
Resides Aryvistarax, noble and frail.
With scales of brass, a fading light,
Yet hope still gleams within the night.
Oh, Bahamut, hear our solemn plea,
Great Platinum Dragon, wise and free.
Stretch forth your wings, across the sky,
Bring forth your light, let darkness die.
Through ages past, Aryvistarax stood,
A bastion of good in a shadowed wood.
But now ensnared by a sorcerer's art,
His noble spirit torn apart.
Oh, Bahamut, hear our solemn plea,
Great Platinum Dragon, wise and free.
Stretch forth your wings, across the sky,
Bring forth your light, let darkness die.
Oh, Bahamut, your power untold,
A beacon of hope in a world grown cold.
With scales that shine, like the sun's own glow,
Unravel the spell, let freedom flow.
In the depths of despair, we call to thee,
To set Aryvistarax forever free.
With your divine grace, and righteous might,
Restore his honor, banish the night.
Oh, Bahamut, hear our solemn plea,
Great Platinum Dragon, wise and free.
Stretch forth your wings, across the sky,
Bring forth your light, let darkness die.
So heed our call, oh Bahamut grand,
Extend your mercy, with guiding hand.
Together, let us restore the right,
And watch Aryvistarax take flight.
