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In which are explanations of many kinds
A contract the unwilling binds;
Mass is said, those words are read,
A contract the unwilling binds;
Mass is said, those words are read,
And a lady quite loses her head.
The Tales of Westala and Villtin
Fantasy in the making
In which graphs have been plotted,
Items are spotted,
And notes of adventures are jotted
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In which men are found and women put away,
A horse is judged and warriors come to stay,
As understanding dawns without the light of day
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In which a timely arrow flies
And a philosophy is learned;
The urge to pay is on the rise,
And warriors are burned.
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In which cripples are laid to rest
And tempers are flying high
Competitors are full of zest
And lightning-fast blades fly
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In which people get ready to leave
We hear the sound of three hands clapping
And see tense young women snapping
As avengers their assault concieve
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In which girls are fretting idle,
beer is brought for drinkers rough,
adventurers through strange doors sidle,
and a lord has had enough
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In which an amber morning glows
Villagers a gauntlet throws
And questions are put to one who knows
What in the used goods market goes
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In which a larder is without loot,
A visage has been sooted,
A party proves to be a hoot,
And turnips are re-rooted
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In which a dead man walks, warrior talks,
and mustelids are ratted out.
A seer is seen, a master is mean,
and our heroes go ballistic and shout
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In which we see a rooftop meeting,
A villain's end is nigh,
A mansion gets new central heating
And flames light up the sky
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In which we'll see a seamstress suck,
And a king who doesn't yield
One Moon is lost, but two are found with luck
While a farmer's plowed afield
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In which a mean mouse arrives,
And the turnip has encountered knives.
We learn that every trip requires packs,
A divine wind attacks,
And girls investigate some sacks.
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In which we see an argument with a hole,
A limping display of a role
And nostalgia over the world of ole.
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In which we see domestic exploration,
And a mustelid visitation.
We relax in meditation
And learn of knightly lamentation
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In which we find ladies in waiting
before posing as hating
And our heroes debating
whether guilds are a plaything
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In which we hear comments on fashion,
see tentative passion,
are given insight into governance,
and are on the outlook of romance.
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Prologue
Posted on 2006.08.18 at 02:46In which the past is given due consideration,
the future is viewed with some apprehension,
and the present is given much appreciation.
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