Collected Works of Elizabeth Fisher



  • “Too Fabulous” – Isolde Garibaldi: An Origin Story by Bess Fisher

    Foreword:
    "I am pleased to chronicle for the first time, the first in a series of biographical accounts, the true and accurate story of Isolde Garibaldi's birth."

    How was a creature such as Isolde Garibaldi borne to man? You are not alone in asking, for many are the sages that have pondered this same mystery. Ponder no more, for I can reveal to you the sordid origins of this wayward redhead for the first time in print!

    It all began in a simple village in the Dales. In this simple, unassuming village there lived a simple, unassuming baker. This baker prayed daily to the gods of baked gods, which is to say all the namby-pamby gods like Sune, Lliira, Chauntea and so on who put more stock in finger-food than mythical swords or kickass champions.

    One day, this baker’s simple life was vividly interrupted by a divine revelation. He awoke in a state of religious fervour, babbling about his magnum opus (which is a fancy-arse bardspeak way of saying masterpiece). He took his life savings and closed his bakery, leaving his quiet hamlet to travel far and wide. Just shy of nine months later, he had returned, with a creaking, massive cartload of the choicest ingredients his humble neighbours had ever laid their eyes upon (and not just because they were hick villagers, it was actually good shit).

    He disappeared into his bakery for seven days and seven nights. When he emerged, he pushed before him a cart, and on that cart lay the most sumptuous, glossy and rich looking chocolate torte that mortal eyes had ever beheld. They say that season was the rainiest on record, for so inviting was this torte that Faerûn herself salivated for it!
    As he wheeled the cart into the centre of the village, the baker, until now in his prime, creaked and aged before the greedy, enraptured eyes of the townsfolk. Reaching the centre, he croaked his final words before his decrepit body gave up the ghost; “Only the worthy shall eat this torte, and change the fate of Faerûn!”

    Before his crumpled body even hit the ground of the village square, all hell had broken loose. Brother wrestled brother, mothers were strangling their daughters, as all slavered in unbridled hunger for this most auspicious of desserts. The rage lasted three days and three nights, as the torte-frenzy overtook the once sleepy Dale, the portentous dessert never losing its lustre in the centre of the madness.

    Finally, a wiry, non-descript shepherd girl managed to slip through the cacophony, and stood before the mighty meal. Proximity to its glistening, rich perfection overcame her, and she shoveled it down by the handful! Needless to say, this shepherd girl never needed to eat another morsel as long as she lived, such was the satiation she derived from this most chocolate of tortes. Nine months later, she gave birth to a wee squalling babe with a shock of vibrant red hair, and thus was Isolde Garibaldi forever carved unto the face of Faerûn.



  • Limericks by Elizabeth Fisher

    Volume II - Cortège

    Well I've led this Cortège every night,
    Till the convoy has stretched out of sight.
    ⠀ ⠀ We march nightly the dirge
    ⠀ ⠀ Of an everyday purge
    Yet each morning we find some new plight.

    The first was a blackwooded blackguard,
    Who mastered me down by the junkyard.
    ⠀ ⠀ She summoned a fiend
    ⠀ ⠀ Which rendered me weaned
    Till we parted ways both badly scarred.

    The second was my own Commander,
    Who to cretins and thugs he would pander.
    ⠀ ⠀ With wires and steel,
    ⠀ ⠀ It was quite an ordeal
    To bury him but a bystander.

    The third was some Netherese disgrace,
    Who once shoved me off a staircase.
    ⠀ ⠀ He had some grand plan
    ⠀ ⠀ Yet he was but a man
    Now he's out there a-floating in nullspace!

    The next was a creature Undying,
    For the soul of the Deepwood was vying!
    ⠀ ⠀ We undid his ills
    ⠀ ⠀ Paid all the fey's bills
    Now he's somewhere so silently frying.

    The fifth was the knight Robert Holmsmeade,
    Who fought hard to impose his own creed.
    ⠀ ⠀ I surrendered to he
    ⠀ ⠀ Who surrendered to me;
    And in death we were at last agreed.

    Then we wrapped up that fool Alice Dardoch,
    The first of a skein from a cursed flock.
    ⠀ ⠀ In missions so muddy
    ⠀ ⠀ She got her hands bloody
    All to end up knelt down on the block.

    Then Seventh came out of the woodworks,
    With his army of Autonomist assjerks
    ⠀ ⠀ Oh you'll have heard
    ⠀ ⠀ All about this bastard
    Torn apart in the Cinderwood's murks.

    Eighth the failure that's Cedric Lamar
    This one really lowered the bar!
    ⠀ ⠀ He tried poison and bomb
    ⠀ ⠀ But was doomed all along
    He was hauled in by Peltarch's own star!

    Then Ninth there was Cynthia Lahey,
    Who tried to poison the king's bakery
    ⠀ ⠀We went on to outdo her
    ⠀ ⠀ With a stunning maneuver
    Now Miasma will swing from a tree.

    Then Tenth was the murderous Pyre,
    Stopped the Commerce from drowning in fire
    ⠀ ⠀ This lizard's a rat
    ⠀ ⠀ Best made into a hat
    No less punishment will quench my ire!


    Then the last of the leftover Smoke,
    Was this creepy wee vampire bloke
    ⠀ ⠀ He made people prance
    ⠀ ⠀ In a demented dance
    And turned our fair Jewel to a joke.

    Now I'll tell you what's black and what's white,
    She brought mayhem and murder and night
    ⠀ ⠀ She did me such wrong
    ⠀ ⠀ Yet I still carried on
    And in the end she just gave up the fight.



  • Limericks by Elizabeth Fisher

    Volume I - Geese

    I once flew with a skein of geese golden,
    And we blazed both the trails new and olden.
    ⠀ ⠀ We sailed all through the air,
    ⠀ ⠀ Without ever a care
    For our next challenge could only embolden!

    Yes I knew well that quaintrelle Isolde,
    When my temper ran hot she would scold me.
    ⠀ ⠀ She produced so many sighs,
    ⠀ ⠀ By the glance of her eyes
    But it's the force of her heart that cajoles me.

    She’s well famed tha’ many-named Roslyn,
    For she faced friend an’ foe wi’ chunvhicshin.
    ⠀ ⠀ She wore so many masks,
    ⠀ ⠀ To brave many more tasks
    Th’ detective tha’s stranger’n fictshin.

    I once ate at the inn of a gypsy,
    Through the past and the future he’s with me.
    ⠀ ⠀ He sees all near and far,
    ⠀ ⠀ So go drink at his bar
    But forgetting to tip is quite risky!

    Yes I’ve walked with the elder Dreamstrider,
    Smelled the ozone and lightning and fiber.
    ⠀ ⠀ It was a lesson indeed,
    ⠀ ⠀ For she knew how to lead
    A slow learner but I’m still behind her.

    I once knew a becrazed elven wizard,
    Said her true form was that of a lizard.
    ⠀ ⠀ She’d sell you her soul
    ⠀ ⠀ For a ratty old scroll
    And for supper she ate only gizzard!

    Yes I’ve dined with the dandyman Nate,
    Though he made me decidedly late.
    ⠀ ⠀ He gets on one’s nerves,
    ⠀ ⠀ With too many verbs
    Still this popinjay makes a good mate!

    You have heard of the Witch and the Seer?
    Well I know which is witch and she’s freer!
    ⠀ ⠀ Your thoughts will efface,
    ⠀ ⠀ In her welcome embrace
    But her foes yet have much worse to fear.

    You’ve heard of the grumble called Cormac?
    This scowlface paints eyes and lips all black!
    ⠀ ⠀ He’ll grouse and he'll groan,
    ⠀ ⠀ But one thing is known
    If our line starts to fray he’ll attack!

    Well I know a young saltfaced marine,
    He makes girls here and girls there fairly keen
    ⠀ ⠀ But give him the word,
    ⠀ ⠀ He’ll draw that halberd
    And his foeman he’ll split to the spleen!

    Have you ever felt old in the morning?
    Well Salin was old at time’s dawning!
    ⠀ ⠀ But his smarts are so fast,
    ⠀ ⠀ And his blondie’s from Bast,
    And his magic can stop you sans warning!

    Now I’ll speak of the elder Windcaller,
    From the shadow of Thaymount, but taller!
    ⠀ ⠀ Now you may think I’m crass,
    ⠀ ⠀ But she’s got a great ass
    And I’ll die before sorrows befall her.