Ok, so calling this a saga likely stretches the definition a bit, and calling it The Bloodstone Saga probably makes very little sense to anyone, since it has none of it takes place in the Bloodstone Lands.

To clear things up for people who may have stumbled onto this hoping to find a bit of lore, let me explain. This is basically a mental exercise of mine, written up for a role-playing game. In the campaign it was written for, my character is/was a bard in Wizards of the Coast's Forgotten Realms game world. When the group was trying to bring in a new character for no apparent reason (I only play with them during the summer), Cormac mentioned that the quest they were going on seemed like something that should have a Saga written about it. They took him along, both for his breadth of knowledge and this offer. I don't think anyone ever actually expected me to write it.

Then work intervened.

In the summers, I work as a temp for Manpower. They placed me at Foxconn, shrink-wrapping boxes of completed computers, readying them for shipping. A fairly important job, but one that is incredibly boring, since it can be a while between one set of boxes and the next. After getting in trouble a couple of times, I concluded that they were serious when they told me they didn't want me reading during my copious downtime, I decided to bring a notebook and start writing. After three weeks or so of intermittent writing, this was the result.

For those who aren't familiar, the plot of this is based on the Planescape campaign setting adventure, "Fires of Dis" as our group, The Knights of Bloodstone, ran it. Some of it has been cleaned up from the actual playing; I've deleted portions of the game that didn't matter in the end, removed an entire character (his player quit the campaign, and most of what he did could be explained differently), and made us all seem a whole lot more involved, intelligent, and honorable than some of the characters actually were. The style is roughly based on Anglo-Saxon poetry, specifically Seamus Heaney's translation of Beowulf. I say roughly because I made many allowances for both the adventuring party structure and for my own lack of skill. I mostly dropped the use of kennings after a few verses, slowly expanded it from the original concept of a poem about Glynnon, and used a highly irregular adherrence to Anglo-Saxon poetic forms.

I have some other notes I need to make about the poem and transcription, especially given where I bragged about writing this poem. I had a slight problem converting the file to HTML, so some half-lines at the beginning of verses will be on the left of the page, though they should really be more to the right. Also, I would have preferred more space between the half-lines to better represent the caesura, as you see in Rebsamen's translation of Beowulf. Both would have been fixable if I'd been able to figure out how to do columns of text in HTML, but, alas, I can't find my HTML book and Arachnophilia (the program I write my HTML in) doesn't have it in their help file. Please bear with me on those points. For those of an Asa bent who wonder why I refered to Tyr as blind, I'm sad to report that the Forgotten Realms have co-opted several gods from various Earth cultures, including Tyr from the Aesir, Loviatar and Mielikki from the Finnish, and Oghma from the Celts. In their "Time of Troubles" for that world, they decided to strike Tyr blind. It annoys me that they do these things, but there's damn little I can do about it, so I work with what I'm given.

I do hope you enjoy the poem itself, as I do think it is, if not one of my best works, certainly one of my most original attempts at writing in a long time.

So, beyond the Pale did the Knights of Bloodstone ride.
Glynnon the Fair, he rode foremost.
It was his quest which took them so far.
Strong dragon-mail garbed him in battle.
Leaf-green it was; Elves have little better.
Glynnon the Priest Ilmater's Hand,
His spell provided the sail steed.
So swift was it none saw prow or stern.

Seren the Dark from shadows followed.
A warrior-wizard, his magic waking dreams.
His blade keenest ruby his cross-guard black;
Few could stand against its well-placed blows,
Yet the wounded rose whole from its lightest touch

Ryack the Grim, Vengeance's Sword.
He came next, and gladdened the raven
Gloves from the forge banded with iron
They granted strength ogres could not match.
Few of his youth could match his blade.

Mira, Twice Born also bore a Knighted blade.
A warrior-woman, first born to a mortal mother;
Then, again, born of magic in a dead wizard's lair.

Liandra the Silent came last of the Knights.
Little did she speak; her oft-naked blade
Spoke her mind with warrior's words.

Unkighted rode Cormac the Bard.
Man of the Ffolk, Hand of the Goddess,
His cheek bore scars from a dragon.
With them he rode their story to tell.

Ilmater's Hand brought them far,
to the Balanced Land, A City on a Spire.
Sigil it is called, the envy of Gods
Its doors lead men to every place
That ever was dreamed; To Gods they are closed.
By factions ran, By a Lady ruled,
Its markets teem with demons and devas;
Men selling then e'en Thay would not buy.
To this place came Knights of Bloodstone;
Never had they seen sights such as these.

A guide they hired to show them of Sigil.
Winding through the streets a struggle did they hear.
A man did battle against four fiends.
One, their leader, held fast his sword arm;
It was the sword that they sought.
Guardian, Lightbringer, Paladin's Sword;
Forged to wither darkness, its touch fiend's bane.

Bloodstone's Knights charged to his aid;
With sword and spell, the lesser fiends they killed
Too late, they were to save the sword.
The fiend who yet stood tore the arm free
And the sword stayed in that final grasp.

Healing spells did Glynnon chant,
And the armless shoulder bled no more.
Pain still claimed the swordless paladin
And he spoke of Guardian and Ascension
Before sleep claimed him.

To his Order's house
The Knights carried him. They called him DeNeil
And gave the Knights a difficult quest.
To Dispater's Land, Second of the Hells,
Had Guardian been taken. In the Iron tower
Must they fare to aid this Order.
Glynnon the Brave, now one of the Order,
Accepted the task on his dragon-mailed shoulders.

To the market went the Bloodstone Knights;
Their Weave-touched blades would not avail them in a Hell.
Magic gems did they barter for Hell-forged blades;
Three they were, and green did they glitter;
Two an arm's length and one a man's
Magic-touched steel no mortal could match it.

Now, across Avernus, First of the Hells,
Were the Knights to trek. One came to them
Out of the shadows unbidden to give them counsel.
Carrus, he was called, and his words were false.
Of a portal he spoke, to Dis it would lead,
And avoid the First Hell. Even priestly wisdom
May sometimes falter; His words they heeded
And to the Abyss did his portal lead.

Unknowing did the Knights search the Abyss.
Soon they found a tower of iron;
To it was bound, with wire a-barbed,
A pain-wracked man; a warrior cruelly taken
From Silverymoon lured by a demon of lust;
To the tower lashed for the amusement of fiends.
Liandra's sharp sword cut through his bindings.
He fell to the sand; his wounds were healed
And his thirst slaked by Glynnon the Kind.

Over the hills flew the captive's master.
A fiend of Vulture's mien; Vrock, who delights in torment.
His captive he demanded; with threats of force
Did his words come. Stalwart, did the Knights refuse
The rescued man to yield. The Vrock called to its minions
And the battle did begin.

Hotly did the contest rage,
Beneath the unsetting sun. Each strike on the Vrock
Yielded a spray of poison and a rattling of feathers.
Each of its strikes drew bloody lines
Where magic did not ward. Its foul minions
Two strokes killed but in their death
Sprayed putrid poison. Ryack's grim sword
Did it sorely would before to its claws he fell,
And soon Mira lost to the Vrock's beak.
Liandra fought on with Ryack's blade;
Aid from sorcery's spells helped her bring it down.

The Knights of Bloodstone soon knew their error
And to Sigil flew to lick their wounds
And bring life to the fallen. Ryack swore vengeance,
With mercy dead at his feet, and glad would be the raven,
When he struck.

To Ribcage did they go, The Gate of Hell,
Town within a corpse. Trade goods did they gather
So to Avernus they might pass, and a guide as well,
So safely might they travel.

Through the Gate they strode, Down into Hell,
through blasted Gate-towns Since married to the plane.
Eyes did watch them, devils seeking souls,
But none would harm lawful merchants bound for Dis.

'Crost the furnace Avernus walked the Knights.
Fire exploded in the empty land,
While heat pressed down from the sunless sky.
Sweat drenched each of the Vaasan heroes;
Their northern home never feeling such heat.
E'en wandering Cormac was soaked with sweat;
The blessings of Earthmother gave him small relief
From the Hell-furnace.

Hours on the plains seemed as weeks
Of mindless marching. Soon did the Knights
To a river come. River of blood,
The tumultuous Styx; of copper it smelled,
And evil deeds; a wound gone bad,
And filled with rot. Across must the Knights go
On a narrow path. Cormac the nimble
He went foremost stepping lightly on the path
And safely on the shore. Mira, she walked second
But her footing was less sure; she fell into the blood.
Glynnon, he worked quickly, swallowing a magic drink
To give him flight. From the blood she was lifted
And set upon the shore reeking of blood.
Glynnon then carried the rest across
to avoid further slips.

From the beginning of her life
To the dunking in the blood
Was lost to Mira. E'en her name
Was a distant dream. Slowly, with words of reminding
And a touch of Seren's spelled ruby blade
Did Mira recall her old life.
Forever now like a tapestry eaten by moths
Would her mem'ries be.

On they walked into hilly land
Where armies had fallen since time began.
No armies clashed on the field that day
Only Carrus and his band of warriors six
Faced the Knights on that ground.
Carrus was surprised to see them there.
He spoke like a spider who explain why he spun
His deadly web. Time he thought to buy
With the knights distracted and far from Dis.
He sought Guardian to further his ambition.
Glynnon and Cormac spoke words of peace;
They wished no battle in a hostile land.
Ryack, he burned. Vengeance he craved
On Carrus the Betrayer. Seren the Dark
Between shadows slipped unseen by men.
His blade broke out through Carrus's chest.
The Betrayer slipped down to the sand
As his warriors attacked. The battle was quick
And the warrior's last survivor threw his arms to the sand.
Glynnon the Merciful returned to him his blade
And bid him to Sigil go; He still wished not the warrior's death.
Taken from the dead was food and water;
The living could use it better.

Soon came the Knights to a massive boulder.
Men of Glynnon's Order in it were shoved
Like pegs cut square into holes cut round.
From no where did a voice somehow come.
"You will do but a test must you pass."

Two puffs of smoke and a screaming of steel;
Two devils foul with halberds a'glint
Stood with the dead pulled from their rock.
"By Ilmater's name," cried Glynnon the Priest,
"return to your graves, bother not the living!"
The dead did fall before his words
Souls set free of putrid flesh.
The warrior-knights and Cormac the Bard
On the devils did fall. Quick sword-strokes
Brought the devils low. Galbrezu they had been,
Now less than dust. "You will do"
The voice did say then to silence left them.

Not far did they walk 'till to a chasm they came
In its depths a writhing mass
Of twisted maggots feeding on each other
. Countless souls lost to darkness;
Food and fodder for fiends and flame.
The way to Dis lay beyond the chasm
A dragon-carved cavern held the portal
Through Tiamat's lair must they venture.

From the depths the Maggot-keeper out of the chasm did rise.
His broad green wings dripped with gore
But the Knights were unafraid. Shrewdly did they barter
For passage to the lair. Trade goods were exchanged
For swift passage to the mouth
Of Tiamat's Lair.

Silence did hang over the entry cavern.
Five cave mouths did offer themselves. To the fourth did their guide point.
Carefully did they walk, those brave Knights,
For in a God's lair must a man tread softly.
Tiamat's presence they did feel;
Like a hammer did it strike
Like a hurricane did it buffet
Even when her ire is quiet powerful is the presence of Tiamat.
To the fourth mouth did the Knights walk
And opened the iron doors that led to Dis.

On a mountain did the Knights stand
Looking at a city that spanned both horizons.
The heat was unabated as they walked down
A road of skulls, 'tween buildings of scalding iron.
A voice did hail from the road side.
Upon a seat of sizzling iron sat a youth in rags.
Kri'ek, he named himself; It was he who tested them
On the plains of Avernus. A fiend, yet he offered aid,
For he, too, wished Guardian for his own plans.
Wary were the Knights but his aid they took.
To them he handed a small crystal sphere;
Held within the fiend's bauble
A closed black rose. Little could be told
About the fiend's gem. Even Cormac knew it not,
In all his tales and stories.

Through Dis did they wander
And always did Dispater's Tower seem but three streets distant.
Past masses of slaves did they walk,
Their consciences fettered by the need for survival;
One slave, though, called out for freedom.
"Mortal am I just as you!
Save me from this terrible fate!"
His body was burned from scalding iron;
His back in tatters from a fiend's whip.
Now appeared his mistress a beautiful fiend;
A winged elven maiden could scarce match her beauty;
Talos of the Lightning could scarce match her cruelty.
"Rubio, my slave, stop this prattle;
none will save you; you brought this on yourself."
Glynnon the Kind, he stepped forward.
Ilmater would not stand by if the suffering could be stopped.
"Lady, how much is this slave? Though burnt are his feet
and blistered are his hands and tattered is his back,
I would buy him." Her price she named
But Glynnon the Shrewd bartered her down.
Rubio now belonged to the Knights;
Free they set him to Ribcage to return.
Their guide went with him; The Tower was for neither man.

The Tower they considered three streets away;
Each step they took brought it no closer;
Always could they see it three streets away.
Cormac suggested that each close their eyes
So The Tower could not be three streets away.
Forward did they walk blind as great Tyr
Until where they started was three streets away.
Their eyes they opened and beheld the Iron Tower.

Ghastly it was and beautiful as well.
Each blasphemy carved soon flowed into another
Ever-changing from one tower to another more frightening.
It stretched up beyond even an eagle's sight.
No door marred the iron surface
But each bold Knight filled their thoughts
With Dispater's name and stepped through
The iron wall into an entry hall
Littered with the bones of a hundred dead warriors.
From Kri'ek's gift did the crystal malt
Till droplets clung like dew to the opening flower.
On each petal a symbol was drawn;
Each petal a gate to the symbol's room.
The first petal thrown led to a library eternal
Books without end circled the room
On heavy wooden shelves. Many were written
In tongues unknown. Others were warded
By magics and traps; none dared those.
In one book was found symbols like the flower's.
These were copied; their use was made later.

Soon the Knights left the library
By way of a petal. They came to a hall
Mirrored on one end. Behind their reflections
Stood a fiend; flame-red he was
With the body of an ogre, the jaws of a thri-kreen,
And wings and tail like those of a dragon.
He bellowed the words "Howdy, fly-goes!
Zargach will show you some real fun!"
His claws then tore and his teeth did rend
The reflections to shreds. Horrible it was
To see their deaths; especially since they knew
What happened could come true. Another petal was thrown
And soon they saw a prison unholy.

Three-walled it was and each held a prisoner.
Tall dog-men claiming to serve
The gods of Light. One spoke the words
Of Ilmater's service. While two spoke of serving
Tyr the Even-Handed. Those serving Tyr
Called the third a demon; he called them vile deceivers.
Cormac gave council for each to be anointed
With holy water. Those serving Tyr
Were refreshed at the touch; The third writhed and burned
Before Ryack ended him. The two left alive
Were set free. A petal was thrown
And soon they saw the never-ending city.

Across all of Dis did the Knights look;
An infinite city seen in one glance.
The warriors three stared in silent wonder
While Cormac and Glynnon, and the dark Seren,
Found wisdom in infinity.

The last petal had been thrown;
All that remained was a leaf-signed bud.
This was thrown on the tower wall
And its portal stepped through.

Now in a garden stood the Knights and flower-scent filled the air.
Massive fiends tended the garden
Their gentle care given to magical buds.
Seren crept through the garden its secrets to learn.
On a table he found a full-bloomed flower
And a pen dipped in blood. These he brought back
To the waiting Knights. Pen in hand
Cormac drew the symbols they had found before.
One symbol showed nine circles in a square
The second well-darkened. Cormac, this struck him,
And to the Knights he spoke, "Might this symbol not be
The door to Dispater's throne? For, as Dis is the Second Hell,
So is the second circle dark. I say we go there."
As this was wise advice the Knights followed it
And through its portal stepped.

Dispater's throne room was less grand than others.
At the foot of a knife-scarred chair
A bucket of rancid water sat. Above, a skeletal arm
Still clutched Guardian; So great was its aura
It could not be mistaken for a Hell-forged blade.
Glynnon the Brave strode to the blade
To take it in his care. As he took the arm
Down from the wall the bucket exploded
And Dispater was there. His escort numbered
Seven and twenty fiends unmatched
For their evil cunning. The Knights stood frozen
For Dispater was one who stands next to Gods.

When Dispater spoke his power silenced men;
Neither bard nor priest wizard nor warrior
Could find their voice. "I grow tired
Of thieves seeking my sword; its value is not worth
The annoyance they cause. Rather than destroy it,
And yourselves as well, I will give it in trade
For the lash of your eye." The Knights gave in
To this fae bargain for no mortal could stand
'fore Dispater's might. "Kri'ek," spoke Dispater,
"Show these mortals, who have traded well,
to their portal. I do not want them here."

With Kri'ek they appeared in the streets of Dis.
Greedy was he for the sword.
Producing a bag he took it from the Knights
Then burned them with flame. Cormac and Mira
Fell to his flames while the other Knights
Gave their first blows. When all had struck
Dispater appeared angered at his slave.
"Kri'ek, I am made wroth by your betrayal.
An order I gave; an order you ignored.
Your rise I guided as a greater fiend you became.
Since my aid you scorned, when my order you betrayed,
Your power I recall, and your enemies I heal."
The Knights rose up whole and unharmed.
Dispater spoke, now to the Knights
"His head I give you if take it you can.
Some will pay much for such a prize."
Dispater was gone and the Knights attacked.
With sword and spell 'gainst fang and claw
Did the Knights battle until Kri'ek, Betrayer,
Fell to the skull-stone road. With three mighty strokes
Ryack removed the head of the Betrayer's corpse.
Together with the sword was it placed in the bag.
Then went the Knights to Fortitude,
Arcadia's Gate, the end of their quest.

When they arrived in Fortitude town
Some were shown to rooms of rest
While Glynnon spoke to the man of his order.
This man spoke his words full of praise.
"For the people of this town, and our Order as a whole,
great service have you done. Tomorrow as the sun
sets on Arcadia we will give you gifts
befitting your glories. Forged by dwarves
from Mount Clangeddin they will show our thanks
better than mere gold. DeNeil is resting for tomorrow
when this town to Arcadia will ascend."
Glynnon then retired to wait for the dawn.

The dawn found the town and the Bloodstone Knights
Watching a pyramid where DeNeil stood
With two dwarves. The People of the Earth,
They spoke first turning people's thoughts
To Arcadia, their dream. Haze began to lift
And mountains could be seen as to Arcadia did Fortitude slide.
Now to DeNeil did the dwarves turn,
His words of peace for him to add.
Guardian flared as he lifted it high.
A scream broke the air as through a dwarf's throat
He drove the blade. "Howdy, fly-goes!
DeNeil will show you how to have real fun!"
His eyes did gleam with unnatural light.
Magic shards flew out from Cormac's fingers;
On his lips was the name of DeNeil's possessor.
"Zargach!" cried Cormac as the Knights sprang to action.
DeNeil disappear but in the cemet'ry appeared.
Zombies did he call from hallowed graves;
In Ilmater's name did Glynnon cast them down
. Illusions called Zargach to dishearten the town
But spell and blade wielded by the Knights
Brought his host down. Zargach escaped
To another host but a spell from Glynnon
Held him in place as Cormac healed DeNeil.

Cormac then rose and to the people spoke
Words to rally them. "Arcadians! To fear and anger
We must not give in for those will take us
Far from our goal! A fiend had come
To disrupt the Ascension because he knew it would happen.
It will still come to pass if Arcadia you will heed!
To Arcadia turn your thoughts, together in harmony.
Think of its mountains and its perfect peace.
Find your neighbor who may waver and together face the sun!
Find the child who is frightened and together face the dawn!
Find your hope and your goodness and take them to Arcadia!"
The words echoed over the townsfolk
Hands were joined between neighbors and friends
While others clasped the hand of a stranger
Or a child to their chest. As one they turned
To the Arcadian dawn and sang out with joy
To their new home and heroes.

The feasting continued until the next dawn
When the Knights for Mount Clangeddin left.
Their journey was long through those hallowed hills
But ever did the land lift all good spirits.
To the Armory they were taken once they reached the Mount.
There they were given rich gifts of dwarven craft.

To Glynnon was given a hammer made of mithral.
Runes etched upon it warded off flame
And it struck its foes as an ice mountain
Strikes a longship.

Seren received a balanced hand axe.
Hard did it strike with ev'ry throw
But always did it fly back to his grasp.

On Ryack was put a suit of fine plate
So cunningly forged that at Ryack's thought
Like clothing could it seem.

Mira and Liandra were each given blades.
Their edge was so keen even fine web-mail
Was weak as cloth to those swords.

To Cormac the dwarves gave a curved blade.
Graceful, it curved like the wing of a dragon;
Balanced it was by a claw-grasped ruby
"Wyrmreaver" they named it and crimson was its color.

Far from home had the Knights of Bloodstone rode
But home called them ever back.
Great deeds had they done but their lives were still new
More will ever come from heroes such as these.

Yes, I rode with them, Wandering Cormac
This tale I captured With my own eyes.
I give it now to you and ask you keep it well.