In every hall, both far and near, are whispers of the world we hear,
In cask of mead, in northern light, in raven's flight and eagle's sight.
Tales of valor, sorrow's woe, the world's news, like rivers, flow,
Upon our minds, it etches deep, these stories that the world doth keep.

Spicy tales of dusk and dawn, of ebon-black and pre-dawn yawn,
Pepper sting, and salt's embrace, the piquant tang of life's race.
In every tale unfolds a facet, like salt and pepper in our casket,
Of life's joys and challenges met, in each spicy tale, a savory vignette.

Welcome thee, to isle tender, standing strong 'gainst usurpers' cinder,
Thitu Island, 'neath sun's gaze, sings the sunlit ocean's praise.
Its people, sturdy as forged steel, guard their home with fervent zeal.
Despite the looming dragon's roar, they vow to leave their island nevermore.

by Æthelred the Skald

a centaur