Chronicles of Faranna

Ansgar van Puzzle

Magnus sitted in the Thirsty Dwarf's Head, one sheet hung to the wind
When the bat wings doors creaked open and Ansgar sauntered in
He moved his head from side to side and glared with a sunken eye
Magnus heard the spin of a rusty spur as he shook off the dreary night

Ansgar lowered his hat, checked his sword and headed toward the bar
He walked on up beside Magnus, he knew he’d traveled far
In a voice as thick as mud he looked to the ‘keep and said…
“One shot of Rokfor's vodka for myself, and one for my old friend.”

Bishop's people whispered hushed and low, they seemed to be afraid
As if a ghost had stood right up and walked out of its grave
His face was shallow and dirty, his skin like leather hide
Sure he spoke like any man, but something wasn’t right

so Magnus twisted on his stool, turned to him and said
“Thank you sir, but just the same, I’m drinking Eratonian ale tonight”
Ansgar growled and shoved the drink his way, his eyes cold as death
“I pick the drinks, you knock ‘em back, else draw against my hand”

“Who the Allmighty Father do you think you are?", his patience was thin
But he swallow hard, he had to do, when the story Ansgar began
Ansgar's lips curled back and words came forth starting up the tale
and every face inside that bar turned a shade of pale

"My name is van Puzzle and I died four years before,
I killed a man to steal his innocence, at least that’s what they hung me for
Now I’m cursed to walk the land and challenge every night
A man to match me drink for drink... Or by the sword swing die".

"Now wait a minute, mister, no one makes me a fool",
Magnus pushed the shot of vodka back on over towards the walking ghoul
“I love a drink like any man but that’s a losin game
To drink or draw against old friend would only be insane”.

Ansgar van Puzzle tipped his hat and laughed a wicked laugh
“You see, the Father cursed my soul for killing that poor man
There ain't no choice, you've got to match me shot for shot,
If you win then you'll go free... and I can finally rot”.

The barhop nodded slowly and Magnus knew that he was screwed
If he chose to duel the dead then he would surely lose
So he took the glass and threw the shot into his throat
He would match him drink for drink, no matter if he choked.

Dwarven ale, elfish wine, our vodka, Quilrabe rum or gin,
There ain’t no man that Magnus can’t beat, be him live or dead
So after a short moment they have drawn their swords out
Until all bishop's people fell over, and the winners were announced

Eberhard now rests in his pine box, and we still walk the streets
But Ansgar didn't forget the night when death had chosen him.
When it's six to midnight, and the Gwyn's hand of dead is nigh,
You better drink your drink and shut your mouth.
If you draw against death's hand, you can never win
So, Magnus, go ahead -
Drink with the unliving friend.