In the days of ancient splendour,
When knights of steel did shine,
Beneath the banners bold unfurled,
In fields of grand design.

They fought with sword and shield alike,
Their mettle proved in war,
Yet boredom crept within their ranks,
For battles lacked the lore.

So from the mountains' jagged peaks,
The Vashnar's heights so high,
Came knights with hearts of valiant gold,
To seek where fates may lie.

In search of fields more grandiose,
They found arenas new,
First to Pageantry's bright stage,
Their hearts and lances drew.

Here, knights adorned in gleaming mail,
On steeds of noble breed,
Paraded 'neath the fluttering flags,
Competing for the lead.

With helmets bright and lances long,
They jousted, shone in light,
Yet in their hearts, they longed for more,
This field was not their fight.

In search of battles true and grand,
They left this field behind,
And ventured forth to Politics,
A new domain to find.

In courts of gold and halls of pow'r,
They clashed with words so sharp,
With chivalric orders' scrutiny,
Each sought to leave a mark.

Their battlefield of laws and oaths,
With tattles and deceit,
They tried to crush their rivals' names,
In victories bittersweet.

For in the labyrinth of laws,
Their valor seemed to fade,
The knights moved on to Romance's field,
Where hearts and wills were swayed.

Here, under moon and starlit skies,
They vied for love's sweet kiss,
To steal another's lover's heart,
And nobility's embrace.

They sought to bed the high-born names,
With passion's fiery glow,
Yet in those arms, found only air,
And hearts as cold as snow.

Unfulfilled, they journeyed on,
To realms of written art,
Where prose and wit and cutting verse,
Would test each knightly heart.

The arena named "Wit and Prose",
A bog of shadows deep,
With whispers of the fallen great,
In darkened waters sleep.

They ventured in, with trembling steps,
Past ancient bones decayed,
Of mortals and of Gods alike,
In eerie silence, stayed.

Each word they penned, a chivalric duel,
With trembling hands they wrote,
Their flyting echoed through the fog,
In darkness, words would float.

With every verse, the waters stirred,
The tension thick and raw,
The knights, they battled, wits engaged,
In prose's grimy maw.

The bog was filled with creeping dread,
Their hearts began to pound,
For in the depths, a presence lurked,
An ancient terror found.

This monster of the shadowed marsh,
With crown of iron black,
It sensed the knights within its realm,
And knew they'd not turn back.

Three eyes aglow in misty dark,
It watched their timid fight,
Their flyting drew it ever near,
Its hunger grew with might.

As knights waded deeper still,
Through murky waters vile,
The monster's claws did itch to strike,
It waited yet a while.

Their words grew fierce, their egos high,
Unknowing of their fate,
The monster stirred, its patience snapped,
And death became their mate.

Its claws did tear through shining steel,
Its wit did pierce the soul,
And knights who ventured to its lair,
Would find their bodies cold.

With every quip and biting line,
It brought them to their knees,
The god-emperor of insult's reign,
Left none with victories.

Their dreams of glory turned to dust,
In prose's shadowed court,
And one by one, the knights did fall,
To fate's uncaring sport.

Their honour, though, remained intact,
Their names in history's tome,
A warning to the knights who'd come,
To seek a different home.

For in the end, they learned too late,
That some fields bring but doom,
The iron crown of chaos sits,
Above their sepulchre's gloom.

In annals deep, the story lies,
Of knights who reached too high,
A tragic tale of valor's quest,
And hubris brought awry.

So heed this tale, ye valiant hearts,
And know your limits well,
For in the realm of chaos dark,
E'en knights of steel may fell.


Penned by my hand on the 20th of Valnuary, in the year 952 AF.