To know more of his plight your heart yearns
But fear not for Jytan Fitch returns.
Voyaged we into once an orinry hamlet.
But now the town is dead and couldn't handle it.
A town devoid of fools,
yet wrought with ghouls.
Every single citizen,
now death's denizen.
A borough of skeleton
townsfolk as ammunition.
Woe unto a rogue that tries to sneak attack,
the creature lacking a back.
Crossbow bolts, and arrow shots
simply rattle within the undeads rib slots.
But of this you can trust,
Dewey and the dorf turned the fiends into dust.
Twas at the cemetary
to where we did tary.
Those undigging the graves
quickly we dispatched with our blades.
Within that cemetary plot, amid those grave sites
Unhatched we a more sinister plot of ancient rites.
The barkeeps daughter maid mention of in earlier fights.
In but hours she'd be dead in all rights.
Off we ran to the bar to make wrongs right.
No fiends we saw so we hid amid the barrels that night.
We hoped to catch them in their act
Leap from behind the barrels and stope them in their tracks
Me with my sword and Dewey with his axe.
We got each other we had the daughter's back.
Or so we'd thunk.
Aye but through the window they'd snuk
Our plans foiled,
A maiden's inocense nearly spoiled.
When we realized what had passed,
we rushed to save to stolen lass.
Long we traced the damsels trail.
We would not lose we had to prevail.
Plunged we into a cave.
Fear we surpressed to be brave.
Filled with grinning skulls ranting.
An army of undead chanting.
An aura of gloom filled the room.
Spewed forth by 170 emissaries of doom.
Will our heros be torn limb from limb?
Will our distressed damsel meet them?
Do our the Gallant gladiators die?
Who do they meet that lets an arrow fly?
Come read again,
To find rest of the crews shenanigins.