The Bard's Tale

Narrator:
Thus ends the Bard's Tale.

Narrator:
Despite the Bard's warm and shining personality, people continued to run from him like the plague. Perhaps he would one day learn that in order to keep friends near, a man such as himself needed to keep them tied up.

The Bard:
If only I could find a sock big enough to put in that mouth of yours.

The Bard:
You chase that old nag around the pasture and grab the bell, and I won't slaughter all your chickens.

Finn:
[the Bard just killed the ornery old horse] I see you're just as good with animals as you are with people...

MacRath:
Ach! Laddie! Hye yon bogle awa, an' its 'twa pund sterlin' 'll gi' ye!

The Bard:
Come again!

Mannanan:
You know not what you are getting yourself into fool of a Bard. Turn back now before it is too late!

The Bard:
Not knowing what I'm getting myself into has been the latest trend for me.

Viking Leader Silkbeard:
Gather round, you drunken sots! The Bard's come at last! A flagon of ale and a hounch of meat!

Viking Leader Silkbeard:
That was the Orkney Dragon you loosed on that damn' town! Months we'd been at it, hammering at the gates and slaughtering the townsfolk when we could get at 'em. Then along comes your dragon, smashes the gate in one pass and puts half the city to the torch! It... it was... beautiful.

The Bard:
No wonder the locals hate me.

Viking Leader Silkbeard:
Hate you? Hate you? They don't hate you, man! They love you!

The Bard:
They love me? What are you on about?

Viking Leader Silkbeard:
Wait. No. Not love. Loathe! They loathe you! Despise you! They'll curse your name with every breath for a thousand years! What wouldn't I give for fame like that!

Viking Leader Silkbeard:
And as long as you are here, go where you will, slaughter the local folk, and take what you want! It's the least we can do for such a horrible, murdering bastard as yourself!

Viking Leader Silkbeard:
This little girl's about to gut you from grin to groin!

City Elder of Finstown:
May the dark queen of the sith haunt your travels.

The Bard:
Who says the undead don't know how to party?

Fionnaoch:
She is from the very bowels of hell itself!

The Bard:
I know she's a little bossy, but no reason to get rude.

Narrator:
Where were we... The Bard was making an ass of himself... And then... ah yes here it is...