Café de Nuit

Here is a song I came up with. Enjoy!

Bar Called the Crystal Club
Sung to the tune of House of the Rising Sun - with apologies to The Animals.

There is a bar in Kartakas
They call the Crystal Club
And it’s been the ruin of many a PC
By Strahd, I know I’m one

My mother was a singer
They called her Sonia
My Father was the mayor of the town
Called Harmonia

Now the only thing a hero needs
Is a maiden and a drink
But the wenches here will eat a man alive
Before he even blinks

–organ solo–

Oh DMs tell your players
Not to do what we have done
Die or catch lycanthropy
At the bar called the Crystal Club

Well I spend some nights a’ howlin
And I kill for pleasure now
I hide the blood on my guilty lips
with a drink called Meekulbrau

There is a bar in Kartakas
They call the Crystal Club
And it’s been the ruin of many a PC
By Strahd, I know I’m one

In Nartok, the bards sing this haunting ballad. It deals with such brutal, dictatorial people as Vlad Drakov, Azalin Rex, Ivan Dilisnya, Viktor Mordenheim, and Tracy Hickman and Margaret Weis.

I present to you...

Demiplane of Terror
(sung to the tune of Hotel California)

In a massacred village
On a [Trademarked Home World](TM)
It was a night of cool executions,
And the taking of girls.
Then up ahead in the distance
I saw a shimmering mist
My sight grew blurry and my compass flailed,
I had no means to resist.

There we were in a second,
Surrounded by the undead:
Their empty eyes watched our every move
With their pinpoints of red.
Then they leapt on my soldiers,
To rend their flesh to the bone.
As I pondered my "tactical retreat",
I thought I heard them groan.

"Welcome to the Demiplane of Terror!
When you're done fighting, (When you're done fighting)
We think you'll fit right in. (We think you'll fit right in)
A place for you, in the Demiplane of Terror:
Such a nice domain (Such a nice domain)
For your war campaigns..."

His name was Firan Zal'honan,
He's got the secret police.
He's got a lot of campy vampy stiffs
To keep what passes for peace.
And people flock to his kingdom,
The Core's largest yet.
Some will go and grow wealthy,
But most will go - and Forget.

They call him Dilisnya.
He's the one with the wine.
I swear, his vintage will open up your eyes...
For the very last time.
You'll hear those party guests shrieking from miles around,
You'll stick some peasants on your bedroom stakes,
To drown their revels out.
(I said)
"Loving your screams in the Demiplane of Terror!
Live your fantasies (Live your fantasies)
Do just what you please. (Do just what you please)
Tenancy's free in the Demiplane of Terror!
There's no maintenance tax, (There's no maintenance tax)
But watch those Powers checks..."

Lightning rods on the ceiling
Quivering brains on ice.
And he said
"Here's a Nietzschean übermensch:
All virtue - and virtually no vice."
Then as the Doc pulled the lever
His child was released.
And you can strike with injuring intent,
But you can't subdue the Beast.

About this time last November,
We invaded again.
Our armies fell like chestnut shells
In the latest Dead Man's Campaign.
"Relax," the voice told me,
"We are programmed to deceive.
Keep on striving for your dearest dreams
And we're pretty sure you'll succeed!"

"No reprieve in the Demiplane of Terror,
A peculiar land, (A peculiar land)
I don't understand. (I don't understand)
Just one way to leave the Demiplane of Terror:
If Weis and Hickman retcon,
You'll be free to abscond!"

I can't take credit for this song but it strikes me as being quite well suited for Verbrek. It's called "Happy Note" by King Missile.

I don't know why
I'm always inclined
To end
On a happier note.
Though the point may be mute
Like a ten year old boy
With his throat
And his dreams
Ripped
Out
By
Wolves.

Barovia (with due apologies to William Blake, writer of "Jerusalem")
(Note: The court composer probably didn't know as much about his subject as we do.)

And did his sword, in Ancient times, boldly unite a count's domain?
And did his blood, spilled on this realm, cement this conquering hero's reign?
And did he bless his flesh and blood - brought forth in matrimonial bliss
And did Barovia take its place, among those quaint and harmless Mists?

Bring him his Sword of righteous sun! Bring him his faithful symbols twain:
His raven forged of platinum, his sun inscribed with signs arcane!
He shall not cease his honest toil, for while he leads his loyal thanes,
He'll bring Barovia through the Mists - a beacon, in the dark, remains!

LMAO! This thread really made my night.

Not to be a nitpick, but the song "House of the Rising Sun" didn't originate with the Animals. It's actually an American folk song, which the Animals -- among others, including several bluesmen before them -- adapted to suit themselves. The traditional lyrics were composed from a female viewpoint, not the male. The original goes like this:

There is a house in New Orleans
They call the Rising Sun.
It's been the ruin of many a poor girl,
And me, O God, for one.

If I had listened what Mamma said,
I'd 'a' been at home today.
Being so young and foolish, poor boy,
Let a rambler lead me astray.

Go tell my baby sister
Never do like I have done
To shun that house in New Orleans
They call the Rising Sun.

My mother she's a tailor;
She sold those new blue jeans.
My sweetheart, he's a drunkard, Lord, Lord,
Drinks down in New Orleans.

The only thing a drunkard needs
Is a suitcase and a trunk.
The only time he's satisfied
Is when he's on a drunk.

Fills his glasses to the brim,
Passes them around
Only pleasure he gets out of life
Is hoboin' from town to town.

One foot is on the platform
And the other one on the train.
I'm going back to New Orleans
To wear that ball and chain.

Going back to New Orleans,
My race is almost run.
Going back to spend the rest of my days
Beneath that Rising Sun.

The oldest known existing recording is by Clarence Ashley and Gwen Foster and was released in 1934. Ashley said he had learned it from his grandmother, Enoch Ashley, which places its origins in the late 19th century.

Mistshadow speaks the truth. I remember even reading that the original may have been written in England, although that then means the writer would have had to have been exceptionally well travelled for their day.

This song is not my own invention but seems well suited to this genre of horror literature. This song is called "Cthulhu" and apologies are in order to Simon and Garfunkel's Cecilia.

CHORUS:
Cthulhu, you're breaking my mind.
My sanity's vanishing daily!
Oh, Cthulhu, I'm down on my knees
I'm begging you, please -- go away,
Go away!

I picked up this ancient book
By some guy named Abdul Al-Haz'red (Al-Haz'red)
Read two chapters; now it seems
You're disturbing my days and you're haunting my dreams.

CHORUS

Half-awake in the early morn
With my lover sleeping by my side (by my side)
When I feel a nameless dread
And I turn on the light, I find you in my bed!

CHORUS

Hiding out in the afternoon
In a room at Miskatonic U (hiding out)
Elder Signs from ceiling to floor,
And there's star-stones to block off the windows and door.

Consternation! He's found me again,
I crawl in the closet and shiver.
Consternation! He's found me again,
I crawl in the closet and shiver.....

A late update. I have added Youtube videos to my posts in case anybody is unfamiliar with the original songs. I plan to post more in the near future.

Apologies to Sarah McLachlan, who chose the name "Adia" for her song because, apparently, very few names actually fit the rhyme correctly. I suspect Ravenloft's acerbic travelling scholar, S., can think of one important name that does fit.

Azalin, I do believe I've failed you.
Azalin, I know I've let you down.
Don't you know I tried so hard
To file those damn reports?
Without an editor!

Azalin, I give my resignation.
I had sworn I'd give it two years, tops,
To cross domains and interview
The peons and the fops.

Now, there's no one left worth quizzing,
There's no more balls to crash,
There's no one left to ask my questions,
And there ain't no one to buy my manuscripts.

And I can't fight ignorance.
Believe me, Azalin, they're so damn ignorant!
When they kneel before their altars
There's nothing sadder.

Azalin, I once believed we'd triumph,
I know I can't change this world we're in.
I leave you to your dark designs
To pull the strings of fate,
I quail at your power,
I dodge your arms of state.
I'd send my love to all your other kids
(if you still pay child support, that is).

Cause we can't fight ignorance,
Believe me Azalin, they're so damn ignorant!
When they kneel before their altars
There's nothing sadder.

Cause we can't fight ignorance,
Believe me Azalin, they're so damn ignorant!
When they kneel before their altars
There's nothing sadder...

(I did not write this song, I found it online at a different place.)

With due apologies to The Offspring.

Pretty Spry For A Dead Guy

Unus, duo, tria, quattuor

Raisin' up a zombie (Mwa ha! Mwa ha!)
Raisin' up a zombie (Mwa ha! Mwa ha!)
Raisin' up a zombie (Mwa ha! Mwa ha!)

"The necromancers say I'm pretty spry for a dead guy."

Shamble lurch snarl, ooga booga booga aargh

These days, it's kinda hard just to make the buried stay
Our subject's not alive, but he fakes it anyway
We told him he was dead, and he'd better lie down
But he just waved at us as he shambled into town

Now don't berate his undead state
You know he'll turn to dust by dawn at any rate
Gonna hit the town, and party down
Don't run away, don't run away

So if you're afraid, don't throw a hand grenade
'Cause he's not the kind of zombie who will eat your brain
The world needs undead freaks
So hey hey, do that zombie thing

Raisin' up a zombie (Mwa ha! Mwa ha!)
Raisin' up a zombie (Mwa ha! Mwa ha!)
Raisin' up a zombie (Mwa ha! Mwa ha!)

"The necromancers say I'm pretty spry (for a dead guy)."

He wants some cool food, not just any will suffice
But they didn't have ice cream, so he bought some milk and ice
Now shuffling down the sidewalk, he greets humans with a smile
And if they look twice, they'll prob'ly pass out for a while

Now don't berate his undead state
You know he'll turn to dust by dawn at any rate
Gonna hit the town, and party down
Don't run away, don't run away

So if you're afraid, don't throw a hand grenade
'Cause he's not the kind of zombie who will eat your brain
The world loves undead freaks
So hey hey, do that zombie thing

Now, he's getting a fresh look, yeah, he's gettin' new threads
He asked for a beret, but they shot him in the head
Guys say he doesn't fit in, and he smells quite bad
But in his own mind, he is, he is pretty rad

Raisin' up a zombie (Mwa ha! Mwa ha!)
Raisin' up a zombie (Mwa ha! Mwa ha!)
Raisin' up a zombie (Mwa ha! Mwa ha!)

Shamble lurch snarl, ooga booga booga aargh

Now don't berate his undead state
You know he'll turn to dust by dawn at any rate
Gonna hit the town, and party down
Don't run away, don't run away

So if you're afraid, don't throw a hand grenade
'Cause he's not the kind of zombie who will eat your brain
The world needs undead freaks, oh
The world loves undead freaks, so
Let's get some more undead freaks
And hey hey, do that zombie thing

I did not make this up either but I have been thinking about it and then later found out that somebody had already beaten me to the punch.

First, you'll need to be familiar with the inspirational song "One Vision" by Queen. Here it is on Youtube:

Secondly, listen closely to the lyrics. You've got things like "One flesh, one bone, one true religion / One voice, one hope, one real decision / One Vision". All very noble and high-reaching.

Full lyrics for One Vision in the spoiler tag below.
Now imagine what that song might be like if Vlad Drakov got his hands on it.

I sat down and tried to write out the lyrics as if it were a Nazi anthem, but then I did some research and found out that Laibach (Slovenian avant garde musicians) had beaten me to it. Their song is essentially "One Vision" translated into German, set to a minor key, and with Fascist symbolism in the music video. Very thought provoking!

Well... that's the weirdest thing I'm likely to see this week. Thanks!

Always a pleasure, never a chore.

Speaking of anthemic music, usually even a despot will not openly choose an obviously malevolent song, outside of maybe a battle march (where an imposing song might be useful in intimidating the other side). Most songs for actual governments tend towards major chords, upbeat tunes, and a general intent of instilling hope. So while Darth Vader may well have the Imperial March playing when the Imperial Fleet goes out to crush another planet, it's probably not going to be the music they play when they're holding Imperial Senate or meeting with friendly ambassadors.

One particular piece of music (linked below) stuck in my mind as the sort of theme Vlad Drakov might have for the Falkovnian national anthem. It's got a definite martial theme to it with the drumbeats, but it's clearly a piece emphasizing hope, power, and general positive ideals. There is a beautiful vocal part at about 4m12s that sends shivers down my spine when I hear it.

If you believe Drakov is an irredeemably corrupt ruler who actively intends to torment humanity until his death releases us from his pointless depredations, then it's probably not for you. But if you're willing to think of Drakov as a misguided leader whose aspirations to just rulership are eclipsed by his own personal failings, then this song might be a poignant reminder of that lost ideal. Certainly you could take the pride and optimism of this song, sung in the aeries of Hawkmeets and with the well-fed Falkführers, and go to the streets of Lekar where civilians are starving in droves or dying under the whip, and feel a pang at the contrast of ideal vs. reality.

The Secret Garden - Dawn of a New Century

Sympathy for the devil - Laibach

A little weird, this cover of the Rolling Stones song has a strong vampiric lord sort of feel to it.

This was in a different thread about Bluetspur, but I thought it belonged here.

HuManBing wrote:(With all due apologies to the Creedence Clearwater Revival and the authors of "Thoughts of Darkness".)

I see the crimson moon arising.
I smell the blood-drops on the way.
Red glow festoons the dim horizons.
Night falls and never comes the day.

Here's a crystallite!
Well it's bound to save our lives!
There's the Blood Moon on the rise.

I hear an everpresent buzzing.
My henchmen are lurching in a swoon.
The squid-heads emerge in hungry dozens,
Dragging our fallen to their ruins.

Save me crystallite!
You'll guard me through the night!
Here on the Blood Moon in the skies.

A hot chick with pointy teeth is smilin'
A nightmare and gypsy gallop by,
Grey cells comprise this horrid island.
A mutant lover weeps and waits to die.

Oh, here's a place you'll like
Book your spot tonight!
Here the Blood Moon's on the rise.

Yeah, traveler's delight,
It'll make your bowels tight
There's the bathroom on the right.

Still Alive (a Nartok bard's song of welcome and friendship to the occupying Falkovnian forces after the surrender of the town by Baron Eduard Curwen)

No need for violence - they came to our town with bribes and bread.
Now our heads of state embrace their faction.
Docile compliance - they bought it with just an olive branch.
Making good with all of us, except the ones who are dead.
Well we’ve seen far less of the impalings and stakes
And in Velnerast there were no lootings or rapes
So they’ve turned a new page
With their kinder gentler raids
Which go easy on those still alive.

They’re fearless and friendly - protecting my pub and peers, and how!
The Creeping Death won’t get past them to kill me.
How lovely this peace is! It’s something our dreams have long desired.
Now we’ve learned the Hawks love us, and loved our granddaddies too.
Now they’re kind and caring and they’ll stay for a time
And unlike the Baron they won’t censor my rhymes
They don’t want to make a fuss, it’s the King they want, not us,
So be quiet and we’ll stay alive.

Let’s not be peevish. Let’s leave the scars of old behind.
Let’s not dwell on how they’d rape and sell you.
Welcome dear neighbors! Come in and joke, and laugh, and dance.
In their graves our forebears turn, they know that this is our choice.
Let us praise and plaudit what the diplomats do,
As they serve the Hawk it helps the Hawk to serve you,
Now we’ve handed them our town so they wouldn’t burn it down
Which is nifty cos we’re still alive.

We’re all smiles and we’re still alive.
We are docile and we’re still alive.
In occupation we are still alive.
Collaboration means we’re still alive.
We’d sell our nation but we’re still alive.
Still alive. Still a lie.