A poem in progress

From: Guy Hoyle <ghoyle1_at_yJGjtI158wGu7T7fmX-_5TWD3S0c0gzxJ7cU6NCbz4QHWZXMav_11_mhwTe3ddaMm37D>
Date: Sat, 17 May 2003 11:57:53 -0500

In honor of the transition of power from David to Julian, I have decided to commit a work of serial doggerel upon a much-beloved topic here on OpenHeroWars in the past.

As I sit within my home,
Wearing nothing but some loam,
There is nothing quite as comfy as a yurt.

As I sit upon my arse,
Drinking far to much kvarss,
I admire the artsy stitches of my yurt.

As I perch upon my horse,
I muse fitfully, of course,
On the dung-fires burning right beside my yurt.

Lo the winds of warfare blow
Bringing strife and blood and woe,
And a pile of loot to bring back to my yurt.

More to come, I fear.

Guy Hoyle

---

Always choose the option that'll most likely blow up in your own face. You never know when a tribe of werebears is going to want to skin you alive, for instance. Those are the Munchausenesque moments you can brag about over beer for years.

Of course, sometimes you get bitten by vampires infected with bubonic plague, but on the whole, you have a great time.