Long ago, in the early days of Medievia,
There was a lowly peasant girl
Who dreamed of becoming a warrior.
She would do anything to be known by all,
To be held as a beloved patriot
For all that was just and true.
Wither her mother's blessing and her father's sword
She left her small village and those she loved.
She traveled the roads for months on end,
Hoping for someone to teach her
The ways of the warrior.
One fine morning, she came upon a duel
Between to men, a mage and a cleric
The cleric won, sending the mage off scowling.
She congratulated him on his victory.
And told him of her plight.
The cleric, being a kind man, agreed to help her,
And would try his best to help her.
He introduced her to his friend, a warrior for hire,
And thus began her training.
With every morning, she dream seemed nearer.
She soon fell in love with this dashing warrior
Who was the picture perfect image of a man.
Each day, the attraction grew stronger and stronger,
And it seemed as if she had found her soul mate.
This warrior man, so picture perfect,
Loved the girl oh so very much.
The two of them planned to marry
In her family's home village.
So they packed their things
And were on their way.
What they saw when they entered the village gates
Would never erase itself from her mind's eye.
There was nothing left of her old home and life
But ashes, smoke, and dead bodies with cut throats.
While she had been gone for those several years,
A band of vagabonds had been living off of the village,
Stealing their food and terrorizing the people.
The brave villagers finally stood up to them,
Which led to their ultimate demise.
These corpses were all that was left of them.
Filled with a rage so inhuman,
She decided to take revenge on these spineless men.
She told her love that they'd marry soon,
But only after she could see the murderers punished,
Which meant their blood spilled on the ground.
Astride their mounts, with weapons in hand,
They began to hunt the cowardly killers.
Within a few days, she found her query,
And nothing could save them from her fury.
She mercilessly slayed each and every one of them.
She stood above each and every corpse,
Her sword dripping with their blood.
She stopped upon one face, the face of the cleric
She'd met those many years ago on the road.
Her mind filled hate and her heart begging for revenge,
She turned to the one she loved.
Within her hate twisted brain,
It seemed to her she had been betrayed
By the one she had thought she'd love forever.
She whirled her blade across his neck.
Then, something tugged within her heart.
She had been brought up to kill no one
And to respect all living creatures.
And now, as she looked upon her dead lover's face,
She realized her terrible mistake.
She fell to her knees and sobbed uncontrollably.
She begged the gods for forgiveness,
but she received no answer.
She remained in prayer for days, months, years,
Kneeling at the grassy foot of Mount Vryce.
She never received the answer to her prayer,
And her punishment was an example to others.
She had let hate enter her heart
And manifest itself in her once good soul.
She gave in to the hate and killed an innocent man.
Many a pilgrim has seen this poor girl's ghost,
Still kneeling upon the grassy foot of Mount Vryce,
Still praying for forgiveness and receiving none.
On her cheeks, the tears remain wet
And her sword forever stained with her lover's blood.