We’re gathered here in grief profound
to honour and extol
a friend to those who truly count –
God bless his modest soul.
He showed up many quests ago
to join our noble task,
whence he came we do not know
since no-one cared to ask.
NPC, NPC,
we’ll miss your stats, we swear.
Nevermore we now shall see
your shock of [Eva: long blonde, Katy: brownish, Steve: wild red, Rafael: coal black] hair.
He died a hero, amply blessed
with vim and bravery
when our row drew other guests
on a drinking spree.
A level 10 drunk’s fierce attacks
soon forced us to flee.
When someone yelled: „Who’ll shield our backs?“
Lo! We all agreed.
NPC, NPC,
Useful to the end!
Let us raise our glass to thee,
Our selfless, surplus friend!
There was no time for graves and stuff –
adventure called, you see,
we split your gear – well, once you snuff it
who needs weaponry?
So, should we say a prayer? Nah,
it’s getting on to three,
dust to dust, so long, blah, blah,
now – what is on TV?
NPC, NPC,
’neath that pub’s debris –
though we won’t recall your name
our DM mourns for thee.
(Lyrics: Eva Van Daele-Hunt, based on „Aura Lee“, Music: George R. Poulton)