The Ballad of Morganna the Spirit Caller

Bored out of my mind.
The stormy weather has yet to clear and I’ve spent the past several days in Hoelbrak with my mother. She keeps calling me a lousy hunter, sitting in a hall all day (not that she has room to talk), but the welt on my face has cleared up so she can tease me about that no longer. My mother has grown fond of Ida, and I admit that the tabby has grown on me considerably, as well. I enjoy playing games with her at night, she’ll catch a rat and bring it to me, and then I’ll throw the rat across the hall for her to retrieve once more. This is a fun game to play until about the fourth throw when the rat finally dies and Ida looses interest. I’ve spent much of my time occupying The Growling Unicorn, sharing and listening to the stories of other hunters. There is a young minstrel girl, Leianna, a human but pretty enough, who sings some of the old songs with the ferocity of a hurricane. For her small frame she carries a booming voice that fills the hall and all stop their shouting and scuffling when she begins to sing. To my surprise, or perhaps not as I’m sure someone requested it as a joke, one night she sang The Ballad of Morganna the Spirit Caller. I’ve heard the song plenty of times as a child but it had been some years since I’d last heard the words and was shocked that this human bard would even know the uncommon song. 

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