The Campaign: An Epic Verse (Prologue)

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.