3. The Collected Works of Leslie Fim

The Collected Works of Leslie Fim


  • [Anywhere outside of Peltarch - in Kront, in Hinhold, in small hamlets and towns, in pubs and in taverns anywhere out of the Nars, performers, bar-patrons and singers sing a new song accredited to the lyricist and Bard and alleged bandit leader, Leslie Fim.]

    "Quaint Town in the North"

    Peltarch's a town.
    A quaint little town,
    full of quaint little people,
    who fancy themselves Lords,
    Barons, and Kings
    who own all of Narfell,
    and all of its things.

    But their ill-begotten town,
    is full of little rotten lies:

    that it's solid!
    that it won't chafe,
    that it's gallsome and safe,
    and the insufferable plea,
    that it's something you need.

    But you don't.
    And you won't.
    And even if you did:

    Its pavement's lined with sand!
    Its army's not even half-manned!
    Empty posts,
    Coast to coast,
    beautiful stretches of land,

    To sow, farm and be free,
    Far from capitol screams,
    from its games, gold and lies,
    its inept guards and Far Scout Spies.

    There's lots of space,
    to dance, laugh and sing -
    absent so-called Fisher Kings,
    slurping slop from the trough
    of the common man's tax,
    that pig who won't ever enough,
    without breaking our backs,
    to spend on his friends,
    on his parties and wine.
    He'll take and he'll take,
    what's yours and what's mine,
    and let cousins shout, march and stomp,
    and take a man's head in-between romps

    While Magistrates pontificate
    of rules and of law - whatever that means,
    in a land built to suppress
    all but lords kings and queens.
    Expect no salvation in court,
    Another loose brick in the fort,
    For Peltarch's judges lack judgment,
    and won't ever budge, gents!

    And its college of Bards,
    that tries so very hard,
    to put together some kind of verse,
    and for better or worse,
    is knee deep with the crown,
    along with the rest of the accursed town.

    But don't worry, and don't fear,
    for the saving is near -
    so sing well and in tune
    It will be very soon
    that the quaint little town
    will crumble on down -
    like a house made of twigs,
    beneath the weight of its pigs.

    [DM Xanatos Gambit]


  • See the line, reading?
    See what's between?
    Hear tell of fire
    Raise a ruckus 'round here
    Act the bull, isn't that so?
    Low and behold
    Him!
    Known to the bandits,
    As Leslie,
    Fim.

    [DM Xanatos Gambit]