The Black Sheep of the Trolling Tree!

The tournament is ready
For all the shining knights
They will hold their lances steady
Oh the pageantry, the sights!

Every House is entered,
Their sons their sigils bear,
The bannermen are centered
On raising their honour there.

Even so there’s mystery,
A knight who doesn’t show,
A name, a flag, a history,
Their name no one will know.

His armour made of oddment bits,
No gorgeous matching parts,
Just old pieces from different kits,
Without gold or silver arts.

Yet somehow this knight so bold,
Is besting all the best,
Knocking out the finest all told,
And amazing all the rest.

The only mark upon their shield,
A black sheep on verdant green,
Every knight has had to yield,
To the Ser unseen!

By Fragile Bird