Friends of Ispin

With skillful dexterity Karyon fingered,
A map with one detail on which his mind lingered,
It pointed the way to a secret door,
Which led to a room with a dark, mossy floor.

They entered a room with a large brass basin,
For pilgrims to wash their hands and face in,
At first, Kanathar was slightly dubious,
That Titarr would judge this to be spiritually salubrious.

Ishvern, an elf with a maritime look,
Brought offerings for Habbakuk,
Known by Marcus as his god’s kin,
He spoke the name, and they all went in.

Across the wastes the heroes marched,
No Wash would come in lands so parched,
But storms of dust did subtly confirm,
The quick approach of a purple worm.

Silvanesti wine flowed, she-elves were enamoured,
With Karyon’s charms even though he was hammered.
Gilbert felt deep intellectual affinity
With Dalamar: he finally lost his virginity.

By the time they arrived at Camp Silvanesti,
Dalamar grew to be Gilbert’s new bestie.
But the elves’ leader, Zhelseul, felt nothing but scorn,
Kalamaniacs, he decreed, must leave in the morn’.

The elf, Dalamar, in a tone rather haughty,
Said killing his air elementals was naughty.
Gilbert charmed Dalamar with words erudite,
And all were invited to the elven campsite.

After much exertion Marcus climbed aboard
a beached elven ship, and brandished his sword.
The Kalamaniacs defeated two creatures of air,
Evidently summoned by an elf with black hair.

Macho raised the mouthpiece of the Fargab to his lips,
and gave his report to the men on the ships.
Upriver they found no decent place to moor,
They must continue sailing up the eastern shore.

Karyon kept watch o’er the Kalamaniac camp,
He suddenly noticed his ankles were damp.
The group simultaneously cried “Oh my gosh”,
And barely escaped being killed by The Wash.