Disembodied

By: Peladoris Posted on: October 31, 2007

I was walking from Shallam to Shastaan, brooding over a topic for my next song, looking for inspiration. Suddenly, I was attacked by the disembodied hand I had been hearing about for several months, or at least by one of them. My first thought was that it was gravehands left over from a previous skirmish, but once it actually hurt me I knew it was something else.

"Great," I thought to myself. "Now I have two problems. A song still to write, and this thing." Then a little candle lit up in my head, and here is the result.

It's a song, so you will have to imagine the tune.

Disembodied

I've been pulled to the ground by a hand on the road to Shastaan.

There's no arm, just two mounds that I see as I'm trying to stand.

Those must be the places its bones would have been,

Or once were, if this hand was connected back then.

Oh, drat, the darn thing has me toppled again.

This is not working out as I planned.

I think this is the thing that was trapped in the baths in Cyrene.

A good place to bring it, except if you wanted to clean

Yourself off after fighting a skunk or a toad,

Much better than letting it wander the road,

But instead of quite stopping it, that only slowed

It and possibly made it more mean.

Two apprentices died when the hand first appeared. What a mess!

And although people tried hard to kill it they had no success.

No matter what damage our fighters dished out,

The yellow-nailed hand thing kept scuttling about

On its dirt-covered fingers and managed to flout

Each attempt with a mocking caress.

Since I know that attacking is futile, I seek to evade.

It jumps up and backhands me viciously, fearing no blade.

I finally stand and am hoping to run,

But the mischievous manus is now having fun.

Our unpleasant encounter has barely begun

And is starting to make me afraid.

It gets a tight grip on my face and is causing me pain,

And I wish it were tripping me still as I try to remain

Both breathing and upright, possessed of my will.

The hand cannot die, but can certainly kill

Me, its half-rotting flesh has me violently ill.

I suspect it is after my brain.

Now it's trying to climb me again but I give it the slip.

When it reaches my knee, it suddenly loses it's grip.

I'm constantly retching and it would behoove

Me to get out some ginseng, but first I should move,

So I make my escape and my chances improve

When I manage to take a health sip.

It comes in, I leave; I seem to move faster than it can,

So I run as I heave, no time to come up with a good plan.

At last I decide I'm a few steps ahead,

And I need to eat ginseng before I am dead.

A portal safe home leaves me feeling unfed

But alive after healing, a new man.

I love all the pretty decor. I think Mayaween's grand,

And if I'm just a bit freaked out now, I'm sure you'll understand.

All in all, my experience could have been worse.

That clambering creature is surely a curse.

As a warning to you I have written this verse.

If you like it, DON'T give me a hand!