It was a fine
morning to have a spring fair,
For freedom from elves just rang
in the air.
The people were joyous, and rightly
should be,
For great are the blessings in truly
being free.
We passed by a seeress -- our fortunes
she told,
While she, at the same time, emptied
our pockets of gold.
She told of a good day with hope
in the air,
Followed by events of death and
despair.
It was at an auction for magic items
of old,
That we, supposedly, to the slavers
were sold.
But it was just a ruse for the safety
of the town,
We would rescue all, and bring the
slavers down.
Deep in the forest, bard, warrior
and mage,
Set the townsfolk free from their
prisoners' cage.
With valiant heroics and swordplay
supreme,
With magic of power, we rose in
esteem.
A mighty barbarian, a sword in each
hand,
Cleft heads from shoulders with
sweeps mighty and grand.
An elven swashbuckler, with feather
in hat,
Made men two feet shorter before
they fell flat.
A mage in grand robes unchained the
great band,
He assaulted the foe, spells sparking
from hands.
An illusionist of power followed
close behind,
Flames sprang from his hands even
though he was blind.
Another there was, who sprang through
the trees,
In the guise of a slaver, he set
people free.
Heroes of great valour, they fought
well and hard,
And now are immortalized in the
song of the bard.