The previous poem of the races arguing on the boards inspired this one.
All Xoran are invited to join the clan "Children of the Scale" (CLANHELP
XORANI to find a Recruiter, or ask me.) We're not a people united in
goals, and neither do we always get along, but we all respect our
cultures and take pride in who we are, while we strive to learn more of
whence we came.

So without further ado, my spur-of-the-moment poetry:

Of all the races, mine is best.
But why? I had no chance to say.
Of course, I make no loud protest.
This mild rebuttal I convey.

The Tsol'aa are the eldest race.
It's told that most live peaceful lives.
But such a life would be disgrace
When peaceful only to survive.

O Father Phaestus, pardon me,
Though Your creations I've revered.
May never Xoran burden be,
To carry 'round a useless beard.

The human beings bear no trait,
Of disadvantage I can tell.
And may it ever be their fate,
To neither fail nor much excel.

I've long admired Trollish might.
But they are bound by unseen chains.
For though I oft seem less than bright,
I have much more than mush for brains.

The Mhun are doomed to being weak,
With minds not excellent nor poor,
And also fail my mild critique
For selling mediocre ore.

Atavians are even worse
Than any other race I know.
Those bulky wings are just a curse.
I hope they're worth the vertigo.

The Rajamalans make me ill,
With every time I see them groom.
On their own hairballs, it's my will,
To see them choke unto their tomb.

The Horkval people have it best,
To not be bound by mammal's hide.
Your fine skull's plating does impress,
But there is nothing much inside.

The frog-like Grooks, were it their aim,
Could probably have ruled the world.
Alas it is much to their shame,
They'd perish by the dullest sword.

The Siren don't seem very wise
I wonder if it's worth their while,
To be so often stigmatized,
For their power to beguile.

The Satyr lack solemnity,
In ev'ry spat with them I've had
Annoying joviality,
Will meet with fire when I'm mad.

So now that I've disparaged these
The many races of this land
I'll now continue, if you please,
And show why Xoran kind is grand.

None else command the Living Fire,
But save perhaps some dragon kin.
And even few of those aspire,
To now embrace the pow'r within.

While we are strong, we're quite astute.
Not fleshling soft, not kittens tamed.
Our every senses are acute.
There's naught for what we'd be ashamed.

Sometimes people say we're slow,
And cannot dodge a swinging blade.
But this is merely how we show,
How very sturdy we are made.

So to the Xoran, while we fight
So often warring tribe to tribe,
Let's always focus, keep in sight.
The many reasons for our pride.




Penned by my hand on the 5th of Daedalan, in the year 495 AF.