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Gather thy party, fell knave.

Gather thy party, fell knave.

Jesse Patrick Bohanan

When dice abound
at tables round,
you know a Dungeon Master's found;

and in this land
of sinking sand
the party first must try their hand.

Throw the dice —
first twice, then thrice —
until the players dance like mice.

A wicked game
is set in stone
for those whose sins they must atone.

And when in stone
the game is set,
the end is never distant — yet

the players might
still have their day
if dice abound in favored play.

Just keep in mind
that kobolds keep
the souls of those who meet their teeth.

So once again
the die is cast —
twenty-sided, deathly, fast.

And every player
holds their breath
while die, it settles life or death.

Another life
it seems will find
this saving throw of troubled mind.

So until next time
players keep
their breath abated, halting sleep.

Their host,
he bellows out a roar
encour'ging players 'turn once more;

for not yet through
is fate with them
and kobolds are the least of ken.

Dragons still
will have their day
and over players' fates hold sway;

but for now
we bid goodnight
to table's twisted, endless night.

And so I ask:
What more is life,
When death, it rests on twisted knife?

This tragedy harms but a few,
so shackles worn must break anew.