But these are the hands that also ache
To hold a tiny child.
CH: Suffer, they suffer, the children,
When I see them, gods, how my heart breaks!
It is ever and always the children
Who will pay for their parents' mistakes.
Somehow they know that I'm a friend --
I see it in their eyes,
Somehow they sense a kindly heart --
So young, so very wise.
Mine are the hands that maim and kill --
But children never care.
They only know my hands are strong
And comfort is found there.
Little enough that I can do
To shield the young from pain --
Not while their parents fight and die
For land, or goods, or gain.
All I can do is give them love --
All I can do is strive
To teach them enough of my poor skill
To help them stay alive.
2CH: Cursed Oathbreakers, your honor's in pawn
And worthless the vows you have made --
Justice shall see you where others have gone,
Delivered to those you betrayed!
These are the signs of a mage that's forsworn --
The True Gifts gone dead in his hand,
Magic corrupted and discipline torn,
Shifting heart like shifting sand;
Swift to allow any passion to run,
Given to hatred and rage.
Give him wide berth and his company shun --
For darkness devours the Dark Mage.
These are the signs of a traitor in war --
Wealth from no visible source,
Shunning old comrades he welcomed before,
Holding to no steady course.
If you uncover the one who'd betray,
Heed not his words nor his pen.
Give him no second chance-drive him away --
False once will prove false again.
These are the signs of the treacherous priest --
Pleasure in anyone's pain,
Abuse or degrading of man or of beast,
Duty as second to gain,
Preaching belief but with none of his own,
Twisting all that he controls.
Fear him and never face him all alone,
He corrupts innocent souls.
These are the signs of the king honor-broke --
Pride coming first over all,
Treading the backs and the necks of his folk That he alone might stand tall.
Giving himself to desires that are base,
Tyrannous, cunning, and cruel.
Bring him down-set someone else in his place.
Such men are not fit to rule.
(Kethry)
The firebird knows your anger
And the firebird feels your fear,
For your passions will attract her
And your feelings draw her near.
But the negative emotions
Only make her flame and fly.
You must rule your heart, magician,
Or by her bright wings you die.
Now the cold-drake lives in silence
And he feeds on dark despair
Where the shadows fall the bleakest
You will find the cold-drake there.
For he seeks to chill your spirit
And to lure you down to death.
Learn to rule your soul, magician,
Ere you dare the cold-drake's breath.
And the griffon is a proud beast
He's the master of the sky.
And no one forgets the sight
Who has seen the griffon fly.
But his will is formed in magic
And not mortal flesh and bone
And if you would rule the griffon
You must first control your own.
The kyree is a creature
With a soul both old and wise
You must never think to fool him
