An expensive-looking sheet of parchment with flowing, slightly exotic script scribed upon it is tacked on the board.
Bjork the Orc
Rumors abound about Bjork the Orc,
Let me tell you those rumors are true.
This simple orc felled a mighty mage,
The mage known as Kalamazoo.
Kalamazoo was of the pompous sort,
Believing he was better than all.
He thought of himself as King of the World,
But that was before Bjork caused his fall..
This mighty mage overthrew the previous king,
And with an iron fist he ruled.
He claimed to be the legitimate royal heir,
But none in the kingdom was fooled.
Kalamazoo was of the tyrannical type,
The fulfillment of his every whim was law.
Many at first opposed his rule,
But they soon were devoured by a lion’s maw.
Many did fear this mage’s magical might,
So great that some gods feared him too.
But Bjork the Orc feared him not at all,
He alone dared to defy Kalamazoo.
Bjork didn’t care for the land under the Mage-King’s rule,
For him that was not an issue at all.
The only reason Bjork despised the tyrannical king,
Was because of the loss his favorite ball.
You see, Kalamazoo liked to display his magical might,
Inspiring fear and respect across the land.
He laid waste to any village that displeased him,
Vaporizing defenders with a wave of his hand.
In one such village Bjork had lived,
Doing his share in the harvest during Fall.
But the village leader had been late paying taxes,
Which inadvertently lead to the loss of Bjork’s ball.
Kalamazoo showed no mercy when it came to taxes,
Demanding that payments were delivered on time.
The Mage-King decreed that payments should never be late,
Utter annihilation was the sentence of this crime.
One day, Bjork was playing with his ball,
Bouncing it and tossing it into the air.
Then word arrived of the village’s fate,
And all was abandoned with no time to spare.
The villagers immediately gathered and fled,
Dragging along all those they could find.
Bjork was swept up by the mob as they escaped,
And forced to leave his ball behind.
After it was deemed safe for the villagers to return,
They found that nothing had been spared.
Houses, plants, and animals had been burned,
Everything for which they had ever cared.
As Bjork looked out upon the devastation,
He stumbled across the scorched remains of his ball.
And with determination burning in his eyes,
He decided it was time for the Mage-King to fall.
Bjork took up his wood-chopping axe,
And readied himself to fight.
And as the villagers watched in confusion and awe,
Bjork stalked off into the night.
Bjork marched straightway to the palace,
Moving right past the sleeping guard.
He broke into the Mage-King’s bedchamber,
Body-slamming the door hard.
Kalamazoo bolted upright in his bed,
Crying, “Who dares to awaken the king? ”
Bjork stared daggers at the mage and replied,
“I do. Hold still, this might sting.”
With a primal battle cry,
Bjork raised his axe and charged.
The Mage-King quickly chanted a spell,
And cackled as his size enlarged.
“You think you can harm me? ” Kalamazoo bellowed,
“You dare to attack a mage? ”
But Bjork heard none of the Mage-King’s taunts,
So consumed as he was by his rage.
Bjork leapt at the enlarged king,
His axe leading the way.
And after a long and arduous battle,
The reign of Kalamazoo ended that day.
Bjork was thereafter praised as a hero,
Praised for his deed throughout the land.
All cheered for Bjork the Orc,
A tyrant slain by his own hand.
Bjork hesitantly accepted the praise,
Honored to be praised at all.
But he was never truly happy again,
Not since the loss of his ball.
‘Tis a tragic tale,
Tragic that Bjork lost his ball.
But ‘tis happy that a wicked king fell,
Thanks to a hero remembered by all.
~Fowai Uss
