Beyond the crafted wastes of Phal,
Magam’s spirits, and Teb’s Great Wall
Did Our Master set railed course
For this story of loves and force,
Of scheming kings and wizards mad,
Of dragons and pits. If you had
Some imp on your back that must know
Why these events were chosen so,
Know this: Our Lord makes all heroes.
They’re picked by him so they may show
Hope in the few and Our Master’s
Genius at stories. As it were,
Our Lord crafted this world for
Our heroine, life of this lore,
Named Solus. She’s sent by a duke
Who fears that his soul would rebuke
Its mortal chains. He gave her wealth
To buy the Tome of Bod’ly Health
From the north-king of Ustufas;
She’d receive land if she moved fast.
With the Duke’s guide, a ship set sail
With a Solus who could not fail…
For at this point, she lived a thief
And filled belly with poor men’s grief,
Which is why the Duke did tell her
To steal the Tome if wealth couldn’t lure.
Now, you do know as well as I
How evil is to our Lord’s eye…
Does he not dream that his chosen
Be good and lawful in prof’sion?
Ahh, but here’s where Our Good Master
Is master of stories. This cur
Is clay to form in our Lord’s thumb,
To rise and then serve her kingdom.
Lord does love His servants, it’s true,
But redeemers are his way to
Show the power of blest free will
When it’s sent to Lord for the kill.
Now I continue. While at sea,
Solus slept below while the key
To this whole plan, the guide, was up
On the deck. When Solus woke, she
Saw his body slain disgracef’ly:
Skin dry white, veins replacing eyes.
As thieves are wont to do, she pries
Through his possessions. Map and gold
Had vanished like a ghost. The cold
Winds gave Solus no hope of sort
As they blew her into port.
She was now on this island,
With no means to do tasks at hand.
Now, so the list’ner can’t despair,
Know that Our Master, wise and fair,
Meant this as a prologue of sorts
And brought His touch to all. Cohorts
In form of sea and sky did serve
To set the perfect stage. The nerve
Of one to bicker against this!
Now Solus had control of fists,
Of eyes raven and fingers swift.
Her free will’s restored as a gift
Of Our Lord to prove grace. The sun
Peeks meekly back; our tale’s begun.