For the man whose mind is easily vexed,
By lengthy (though accurate) stories he is perplexed.
An abridged story of the fall is told,
That even a ogre's mind should grasp hold.

Not yet gifted with Alchemist endeavour,
Prince Theramenes did perish by plot most clever,
For cuffing Prince Critias upside the ear,
A ball was spiked with poison I fear.

False concoctions cast swiftly aside,
The heir took Selucar's flanks for a ride.
Ladies of the night surely helped rise,
a land of corruption, and sights for sore eyes.

Peasants did complain and moan and bicker,
The prince laughed, and burned them with the wicker.
Most wise of course was the end of celebration,
For without Logosmas there was most improved taxation.

For some strange reason some did find fault,
And assembled a host of arms in revolt.
Lead by a Queensaver whose surname is Kephry,
their army did set upon the gallimaufry.

The Empire was quick to blunder,
as its forces were rent quite asunder,
The man in grey was the key,
His tactics caused their foes to flee.

Tears of wrath were shed in Selucar,
A ten-day siege with Kephry as star.
A puppet of Parni to the end,
A Tsol'teth of deSangre, his goal to mend.

To erase grave sins of the deSangre name,
The Parni's whim erased their fame.
Alas, the act was immodest,
and the land was wracked by implosion most oddest.

Where once was mountain now there was sea,
To this sailor I find it suits me.
Selucar fell finally to jungle,
its arches and pillars rotting with fungal.

Thankfully now the tale can be told,
Of this Empire's fall, centuries old.
This poem is terrible in recounting the story,
of the fall of what once was Imperial glory.

So I will stop writing couplets now,
As I sit on the Black Pig, at its famed bow.
Instead read the history, like a good scholar,
Something, something, rhyming with squalor.























Penned by my hand on the 19th of Daedalan, in the year 601 AF.