Tuesday, November 14, 2006

Part 1: The Begining

For those of you who know me, you should know by know that I am somewhat of a Dungeons and Dragons geek. For those of you who don't know me, I am somewhat of a Dungeons and Dragons geek. (If you need proof of this Simply check out my September 11, 2006 posting.) Well, being a dungeons and dragon geek. just wasn't enough. I needed to add an exclaimation point to that sentence. SO... here it is. The epic saga in poetic form for one of my favorite D&D characters--Jytan Fitch (an 18th level overall = 1st level fighter/1st sorcerer/8th rogue/8th arcane trickster. Now you might be saying thinking"wait to even be an arcane trickster you have to be able to cast 3rd levels spells how does that work?" Well, for you nerds who are wondering read on, read on, there is a story for that. ) And now as told by Jytan himself ....


How do ye do an how do ye be?
Its a pleasure to meet thee.
Well, how do you do?
A most merrily good morn to you!
You ask who I am.
Perhaps you have heard
of the written word
of the Rubiyat of Omar Koram?
Well, this is the Rubiyitch of Jytan Fitch!
Listen now
as I tell you how.
My mater and pater I know not who they be.
Me mater could just as easily be a tree.
Ah, but in my jests
I never rests; and tis not so simple, as you'll see.

Mi father was an or'inary chap.
A man without wealth,
but he was mi pap.
Smitten by a maiden elf
He fell in love at her lap!
Well, One and One is three.
It so happens that that three is Mee.

ere Back to the tale I tell
In great battle our erstwhile safe town fell.
A storm of death loosed from the invader's bow.
How many lives they stole no one knows.
In blazing fire my beloved hamlet was razed.
By fortune, sling and arrow, I was grazed.
Fiends all around,
time to hide in safer ground.
Though they were fierce and hairy,
when things are dark and scary
is not the time to tarry
Refuge was sought,
while the battle was fought,
amid the stones of the cemetary.
Mi dear ol dad,
the best I e'er had,
he lost his wife,
his dear ole wife, she lost her life.
While mi mum was hident,
he missed his missus, but the slings and arrows-- they didn't.
He cried
Then he too died.
No home.
Those I adore,
They are no more.
A void of space...
I had to leave that all awful place.
One thing of note,
of hope: there was a single mote.
While hidden amid death and life's rift-
I did see An angel who bore promise of a gift.
Lying prone.
I was and anon alone.
As for mees,
the end of youth was spent amid the trees.

I am Half elf, half man,
I do what I can,
I do as I please
I wandered ere the lan!
And while I was a lass,
Twas a noble who brought me up and taught me class.
Just the same,
I remember his name.
He was The Great and Merciful,
He was High King Percifal.
Of Arborden
He was the Regulen.
But when I came of age.
I bid adieu to my benefact sage.
I had grown
And was again on my own.
The forests and the streets were now my home.
Much did I learn, yet lil I earn.
It was in this time and place,
A man came to my space.
An inner city dweller
was the reside of this 'ere feller.
To me,
"A tree I should like to see"
said he.
And in a flash,
A friend I had in Dewy Hackenbash.
O'er time we went our ways.
Much I'd learned of Streets, Sins and Plays.
You should know,
of where all I did go.
Twas less than a silver crowd that I did wend.
Oft in the brig I would end.
Oh, how the time did pass,
No more was I the wickle elven lass.
Ah, but ne'er cry,
for there is more to who am I.
A fighter, and a rogue, a wanderer and a dreamer...
I am Jytan Fitch the sorcerer and schemer.

Set now is the stage,
For the many battles Fitch did wage.
Turn ye 'gain round here,
And on the very next day of this year,
More of his epic tales you shall hear.

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