Tuesday, July 11, 2017

Burgundar: The Musical

I play Enoch, a gravedigger, at the Mystwood LARP. Mystwood takes place at two sites: The Keep, in Jefferson, ME, and Burgundar, in Harrison, ME.

Lately, in Burgundar, the town has been beset by a vile Chaos demon named Old Grom. As Grom is wonderfully played, delightfully scene-chewy, and possessed of a somewhat generic appearance (an old man in a black cloak and an eyepatch), he has started to get blamed for things he hasn't even done.

This amused me so much that I wrote a song about it. Here it is.

NOTE: I am not a musician or a poet. I don't know the tune to this song, or if one could even be crafted for it. I doubt that it will scan. Please be gentle. Also, this will likely make sense only to about 40 people, but I hope the conceit is amusing enough that people conversant with the fantasy genre will also enjoy it.

Scene 24

(ENOCH enters, stage right. Traveling leitmotif plays. ENOCH proceeds to center stage before turning to face the audience.)

ENOCH: Well, that was quite an adventure, wasn’t it, my friends? Perhaps you and I should take the pilgrim’s path and travel to a place just a touch less exciting. This here is the road leading to Burgundar, the largest village in the newest holding of the Duke of Eastmarch. Once the home of Skandians who all died under mysterious circumstances, it is now a thriving place filled with commerce and trade. Burgundar is known for its piety…

(IVERA enters, stage left, pushing a wheelbarrow brimming with relics.)

ENOCH (cont): and people travel far and wide to witness the weekly procession of its religious relics. Oh, good morning, Ivera.

IVERA (singing): Good morning, Enoch.

(GROM appears stage right. IVERA brings the wheelbarrow over to him and the two of them look over the relics, nodding and smiling.)

ENOCH: After our adventures with armies of Chaos demons, siege-tower building rats, intrigue, poison, poorly-cooked food, and miserable nights sleeping in the rain, it will be nice to rest our feet in a civilized land—a brief respite against the hard and terrible trials that plague the Mystwood!

(SIR REGINALD comes running in, stage left.)

SIR REGINALD: ENOCH! Thank the three gods! Our town was just attacked by giant termites. A dozen people lay upon the field dead. We require your services!

ENOCH: (aside) As I always say, my friends, a man with a shovel can make money just about anywhere in the Mystwood. (to REGINALD)  Ill news, my friend! Giant termites, you say? How could this have happened?

SIR REGINALD: A Chaos demon named Grom has bewitched the town, set citizen against citizen, and has laid siege to us for our holy relics!

(GROM cackles quietly. IVERA, nervously, takes her leave.)

ENOCH: Egad! The fiend!

SIR REGINALD: He is the worst, Enoch! He also steals candy from tiny children and kicks puppies.

GROM: (storming across the stage) I do not!


GROM: What is it with you ignorant peasants?! Every time something slightly bad happens around here, all you ever do is blame Grom. Grom did this! Grom did that! Grom put thistles in my underwear…

ENOCH: Well, you are evil, right?
(Music fades in.)

GROM: I’m not evil. I’m…complicated.

ENOCH: Uh huh.

SIR REGINALD: You are a demon of Chaos.

GROM: I’m not technically a demon, per se.


There’s been trouble down in Burgundar
It’s been going on a while.
The master of our many miseries
Is really cruel and vile.
He curdles milk within the pitcher
And scares off all our cats.
And you know, I heard he also burned
All of Hotti’s hats.


Blame Grom.
Blame Grom.
It’s an easy way to keep calm.
Why worry when you can just sing
And just blame him for everything!
Blame Grom.
Blame Grom.
Burgundar’s newest psalm.
Why try to be responsible
When you can blame that cannibal!

(CONNOR enters.)

GROM: I am not a cannibal!

CONNOR: I am! Thanks, Grom!


It’s true that I’m a touch nefarious
Maybe even a bit mad.
I’ll cop to allying myself to Chaos.
But I’m really not that bad!
For though I wear this grim black cloak,
Have a patch and an evil laugh.
I’m not responsible for all your woes.
No, not even close to half!


CELESTINE: There he is!

SEBASTIAN: Enoch, that’s the man I was telling you about! The one who sold us the Codex de Bono Mortis!

GROM: I did no such thing!

ENOCH: Let’s not rush to judgment. Describe the person who sold you this book.

SEBASTIAN: Well, he was an old man.

ENOCH: Mmhmm.

CELESTINE: With scars.

SEBASTIAN: And an eyepatch.

ENOCH: I see…

CELESTINE: Wearing a black cloak!

GROM: Look, do you know just how many old men in eyepatches and black cloaks are lurking around in the forest?

SIR REGINALD: I only know of one. You fiend!

GROM: Oh, come on!

Blame Grom.
Blame Grom.
Keep calm and sing this song.

GROM: That doesn’t even rhyme!

Why worry when you can just sing
And just blame him for everything!
Blame Grom.
Blame Grom.
Burgundar’s newest psalm.
Why try to take initiative
If you can repeat this leitmotive?

All those poor miners that got rock lung
Are now buried in the dirt.
You’re a monster for afflicting them,
Don’t you see how much we hurt?

(KORA and NICHOLAI enters)

I offered him a snickerdoodle
I thought he was really nice!
But then he went and betrayed the town.
And afflicted me with lice.

GROM: Kora!

He wove such a tale of deception,
And tricked us to get his eye.
He also gave me bad dating tips.
He’s not a real nice guy.

GROM: I told you to be yourself!

ENOCH: How did that work out for you?

NICHOLAI: (sigh) It didn’t.

Blame Grom.
Blame Grom.
Now I’m going solo to my prom!
Why worry when you can just sing
And just blame him for everything!
Blame Grom.
Blame Grom.
Burgundar’s newest psalm.
Why bother trying to do good
When he’s in your neighborhood?

Blame Grom.
Blame Grom.
Did you just sacrifice your mom?
With our convenient scapegoat demon
You don’t even need a reason!
Blame Grom.
Blame Grom.
Burgundar’s perfect balm.

A beggar asking for an alm?

Got a rash upon your palm?

Are you feeling full of qualm?

Undead you need to embalm?

Whenever life’s a giant mess
And you need to burn off all that stress
Just lift your head up really high
And yell your scorn into the sky!

(IVERA enters)

IVERA: Well, I like him.


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