The books pages I'd turned.
And now it must be returned.
Look throught eh jail window I see much betting,
Will their book they be getting.
There standing guard
Waiting for the burgalar vangaurd.
Tossed a rock at the door.
It worked they opened it to explore.
Invisible in I snuck.
Would I succeed, would I have luck?
The smoke stick I snapped
Enshrouding mist I was wrapped.
Drop the book.
Leave without a backward look.
The book I was just about to place.
When snached by the gaurd with the necklace.
An amulet of true see
Was around the neck of he.
Grabbed by his hand before the book did land.
Down his shirt I did drop,
A bag of caltrop.
Well the one in the corner it looks like won the bet.
Tossed the snare and I was in the internet.
A bump in a net they could now see.
They found it only right to pumel me.
A Sewing needle I drew. I poked into my captor's skin
A blade of metal thin.
My sword I did not draw,
For with the locals I did not want a guffaw.
Wrapped in a net I did fight.
My struggles they lasted through the night.
In a net I was wrought.
But time in a jail cell I bought.
Into the cell I was thrown.
My cover and my plan blown.
Eventually, in a cloud of sleep they were drapped.
That is when I escaped.
My picks they had not took.
The lock I shimmed and I shook.
Free was I
But I had to fly.
Upon the rug I slipped.
The gaurd did wake.
My pick he did take.
And my shirt...and my pants
I was put in the stocks wearing scants.
The gaurds did watch
To make sure no more escapes I did botch.
Into the stocks.
Down came the locks.
I bided my time.
And awaited the oppertunity to escape the punishment of my crime.
Then one night much to drink the gaurd had draught.
It was the moment that I sought.
The wood I chewed with the aperture below my nose.
A sliver of wood I dropped and picked up with my toes.
Between the digits of my feet I did stick.
The stick the locks I would pick.
Loosed the lock with a stick and my toes.
How I managed that one only Luck knows.
I'm FREE! shouted me.
Woke up the gaurd did he.
Back to the blocks.
This time latched with ev'n more locks.
Guards all a round.
Smack in the middle of the town.
Rotten produce the town di produce.
My face was covered in icky tomato juice.
With a lettuce head they hit mi head.
Their aim was on it was dead.
And if it weren't bad enough to be the aim of their veggies.
They pull mi shorts and gave me wedgies.
At long last.
It was the diplomacy of St. Dewey Hackenbash,
That got me frees.
and put me on me knees.
Finally my stuff I got back.
The necromancer who we sought we were finally able to track.
Curious were they.
OF who this weird game would play.
Who on Earth would break INTO a jail.
Steal only a book. And leave a note queing the guards to his trail?
They couldn't understand it their brows began to twitch.
But that is the nature of Jytan Fitch.
Ah but my tail is not over yet.
There is more, much more this you can bet.
A Thorp full of woe.
There more in the way of adventures and undead foe.
SO read again
and hang onto your skin.
There's more tales of slash and smash
Of Fitch , the dorf, and Sir Hackenbash.