A chorus of Shadows

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The moon of the fourth month, rose high and herald. Of renown and great deed was I. Boastful in broad, did venture forth the hills and vales high. Glory was sought, beholden to sights of mine curious eye.
Oh field flowering sweet, of honeysuckle sweet snow, encircled green'er grasses of darkness blights. What Minstrels did delight to taint your fields, their presence fearsome in sight and deeds wicked in their delight.
Gathered tight, shoulders akin, whispering their monstrous sins as were they hives of bees, their vile hymns drone among the hills.
Their sight I did not attract, as a fleeted foot I dared to ease in their dark conversations. Minstrels were known to me, creatures of great danger and darkness. With their songs they do vanish, from eye and from mind. Their danger unknown to you, their strike a curse to be forgotten.
Unaware of my pride, their shadow was dropped. Their cloak in the darkness around them had faded. Under the light of the moon, their visage was shown unto me. Their truth, a form so hideous. Claws of ashen bone, fangs of brittle ice. I tremble but once, but stood firm upon resolve.
In this danger, its gaze upon me, I could not falter. I could not flee. Spirit unbroken and free, I approached mine death of glory.
Empowered with strength of my deeds, skill of my learned ways, my charge is true. My roar to battle cowers even the mightiest of lions. T'was for naught, as quickly my strength meant nothing to their chorus. Their songs a lullaby to lull mine senses.
Empty field before me, the honeysuckles sway. My quarry is now me, as the hunters ensnare me in whole. Held by their talons, like rocks against steel.
Through my binding and capture, the spirit dims, even for one as boastful as me. I am heavy with the defeat, glory is not found in a death on this peak. Despite their body, the whispers they weave are alluring. Fierce hunger and greed, I was to be their supper, this late darkened eve.
Through taunts and mockery, jest upon me, their wish to break the spirit of a hero so strong. Resolute and steadfast was I, my spirit untamed
Even in this dark, my courage would not wane, I vowed my escape on this darkest of days.
To the Minstrels amusement, I played their games. I demanded a game they found most absurd.
"Before you devour me, my body and soul, let us play a game of wit and word."
Aback by my bold request, begrudgingly agreed, though mocked me in jest
"All games have rules, and we demand to know"
"These rules are as simple as a wind that blows"
"I pose three questions, of my choosing, then I will answer three you find amusing"
Their laughter as steel grating on stone, through my resolve, mine gaze of fire. Though assumed it a trick, the chorus agreed and demanded my first query.
Mine interest: "what magic donned by yours to vanish and men forget your presence?"
With wicked glee, their smiles crescent to shame even the brightest moon. "Tis the power of our voices, we sing songs of power and might, renders men forgetful of our very sight."
"Thus we hunt in plain sight, as free as the breeze, prey unaware of our dark desires and deeds"
Their boasts fell on deaf ears, as I crafted my plan.
Pleased with their answer, then question did pose unto me, "Why do you think our defeat at your hands, though we are large and fierce?"
A heart bold, my laughter strong and cold, "I do not fear death"
"But I do fear dying without glory to my name, so vanquished you shall be, despite the sakes in this game."
"I know what wicked and vile beasts the Minstrels are, a chorus no different, your heads to the queen, my legend will spread far!"
They growled as they thought my words were but folly, unknown to them, I was plotting something unholy.
With my mind sharp and keen, I posed my next question: "Why do you take joy in this terrible task? Of devouring men and erasing their existence, memories broken, an act so wretched and masked?"
With grins devilish and sly, the minstrels replied: "tis how we survive, tis our nature and how we thrive
"The fear of non existence makes the meat sweeter to our taste, we find amusement in jesting our meals and leaving no waste."
My head low, shook in disgust and disbelief, I realized the true depths of their vile mischief.
The chorus bellowed their next question: Why play silly games, when your end is soon beginning? Why delay the inevitable conclusion of our meal?
My smile is smug, and leaves only a limerick of appeal:
"Patience is key, my dear beasts of the night, for with the waiting comes the promise of light.
Darkness must end and the sun will arise, in time, it's the cycle which never dies."
Though they scoff at my wit, I'd gained my moment to act, and that patience to me was key to this fact.
The morning light crept closer with each passing moment, my final question I did ask: "If I delay your dinner, what am I?"
The Minstrels did guess, but false were their cries. Their curses did growl, but no answer was nigh.
The sun crests the land, its rays bright upon my countenance, I point to the horizon enrobed in the light.
"I am but your breakfast, your final meal."
As the light shone upon them, it burned them alive. With a shriek and a whimper, they fled to the forests, in turn losing their pride.
I no longer their prey, vowed to share my tale. No heads to present, no glory to find.
My heart full of pride, I'd outwitted the monsters and escaped with my life. I traveled far and wide, sharing this story with all, so none else would suffer the same fate of the Minstrels call.

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