The Ballad of Prince Ronald

A Mostly-True Tale

being a recollection of the Great Victory won by Guild Vivecci over Oceanmaster Ketos

Gather round folks, rest your feet, I’ve a tale to bestow
Of Guild Vivecci’s great defeat of the second stratum’s FOE.

Their map drawn all in shades of blue and the Grotto all explored
Prince Ronald and his merry crew arrived at one final door.

“Beyond this door lies peril,” said the hoplite to the prince.
“We shall need some new apparel to advance, I am convinced.”

Prince Ronald mulled extensively on the advice of his pet knight.
But his guild was quite expensive, see, and his purse was rather light.

“Let us enlist our farmer; she can Chop and Mine and Take.
We’ll trade the goods for armor and return with evened stakes.”

By using Ariadne’s Thread and the arrows on the ground,
To town and back they quickly sped with the loot that they had found.

After exhausting all her skills the farmer shyly asked the team:
“Might we seek a few more kills? I’m about to ding nineteen.”

The prince, who saw no harm in this, led his guild down one more floor.
They trounced a few more Blue Starfish, then stood again before the door.

“I’m still a hundred XP shy!” The farmer’s whining filled the air.
“Why not just take a peek inside? At least we’ll map a few more squares.”

The final FOE loomed just ahead; its speech was quite dramatic.
Then to Vivecci’s shock and dread their steps were automatic!

Vivecci cursed their rotten luck, stuck with this mad cetacean.
They hadn’t shopped, their Limits sucked, they had done no preparation.

The prince tried first to sound retreat, but there was no chance of egress.
Vivecci faced certain defeat; how’d they get into this mess?

The gladiator took his vow, the hoplite gripped his spear.
The farmer mopped her sweaty brow and quivered in her fear.

The prince remained calm and composed as he gave orders to the group.
Beneath the front line’s mighty blows the whale’s health began to droop.

Guild Vivecci did persist, though their TP was running thin.
Without their trusty arbalist odds of victory were slim.

The Line Heals flowed like water up until the monk was slain.
The hoplite next was slaughtered, and of Nectar none remained.

Prince Ronald gripped the farmgirl’s hand as the gladiator fell.
As they advanced they knew firsthand they now faced their death knell.

The FOE raised its evasion and the air around it billowed.
Seizing the situation Ronald shouted “Ad Nihilo!”

There was a violent roaring sound as Ronald slew the devil.
The beast crashed down onto the ground and the farmer got her level.

Much to their abject disbelief, it seemed the day was won.
Armoroad shared their relief and praised Vivecci’s golden son.

They licked their wounds without a hitch, and stoked their swelling pride.
But Ronald yelled, “Son of a bitch! We forgot Formaldehyde.”