Prelude

Note thee, cousin, how Grimbergen,
Ever kind, and ever true,
Doth yearn to know the elvish tongue?

Perhaps my woodland flower,
Kind and giving, as she is,
Should tutor him in her mother tongue?

*winks*

Racing toward the Apocalypse

It seems, my lovelies, that our fortunes do rise
How not, for noble souls such as we?

Are we not now lords of the town of Esirup?
Heroes to the commoners?
Benefactors?

My General, Spag, the mighty,
Who did fell Ice Giants with his axe,
Shall he not lead the town in matters of defense and soldiery?

And what of Counselor Moonbeam,
Sharp-eyed and keen-witted?
Shall he not build a center of learning that might rival even the scholarly centers of cities thrice greater than mere Esirup?

And Grimbergen, true-heart,
And Malcolm Grey?
What of their wisdom, deep and long
Shall they choose to impart upon our newly acquired flock?
(And, we can be sure, the teachings of Brother Grish will never be far from our thoughts...)

Or the woodland flower, Kyililiana,
Might she not cause the open spaces in Esirup to bloom as wondrous gardens,
The like of which is rarely seen in mortal world?

For my part, I shall sing my very lungs out,
And impart laws upon the people that are just and kind,
Relying upon the collective wisdom of my companions.

Truly, Esirup will benefit!

But never must we forget
That though we bring good into the world
There is yet evil to contest!

For we are now in a race
With denizens of the evil Citadel,
Who, as yet, have revealed only the merest share of their might!

Caution, Blades...
Let not our desire to do good blind us to danger....
Else....all will be lost....

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