Well, Wubblefarvin gave me a stout stipend to fund my travels
I bought a bag full of liquor and went back into the rain.
It didn't take long to find a willing sidekick. His name was Billybarty.
Billybarty Sillyparty.
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And it would be his last day alive.
I gave him coin and drink and we sped across the Thicket.
Hopping over the wall so the pesky Sherriffs wouldn't stop us for questioning.
They were a cowardly lot, the Sherrifs
I have never lamented their frequent deaths.
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At the entrance to Runnyeye, we met with three other intrepid young adventurers.
There was Jumbeat the crafty, a warrior who used his halfling abilities well
Sunt the simple, second to die
and Grumphilda the Beauty,
a truly fine exotic treasure
Crafted from the bronze of Brell's beard.
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Giving them each some platinum coins
As well as a hearty quaff of brandy
or Honey Mead
or Fish Wine
Or Ale
We ventured into Runnyeye.
The ale was strong and it took us some time to make our way down into the pits
It was true... there was something off here.
I knew Runnyeye well, had parlayed with the King many times
But what was it?
A feral reek
The shadows too dark
My companions felt it too...
By the time we reached the third level of the Citadel, they hung closely together for warmth
And ah, at least they had a pleasant final moment, for their hour was near at hand
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