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The little band stood defiant before the
Daunting castle in the center of
The domain of the damned and evil.
The dismal structure seems made of
Debris and diagonal lines.
It was ruled by an age-old dynasty,
And it made one dizzy after staring at it for too long,
For it dazzled the eyes subliminally, even at dusk.
One could not deny the danger and defeat
That seemed to linger in the air,
Though one could derive it from its true source,
The subconscious magic striving to demean and decieve.
Standing in preparation for the ensuing drama,
Were three people.
A dwarf, a damsel, and one who dabbled in magic.
The three had a plan to rescue their friend,
An herb-doctor captive within.
When the time came, the dancer, agile but not dainty,
Was enchanted by her friend to serve as decoy.
With a practiced ease, she sped forward
Into view of the drowsy guards,
And began to whirl like a dervish,
Fast enough to defrost the Arctic.
The warning drums began to beat with wild discord,
The guards babbling drivel suddenly heard a droning sound,
Which distracted them enough to let the others pass.
The dwarf and the mage ducked out of sight,
The dancer gave one last spin and dove
Into hiding, then met up with them.
They headed toward the dungeon from which
They hoped to deport their friend.
After a while they found the entrance
With an encoded lock.
The dwarf deciphered the heiroglyphics
And tapped out the code with a stubby digit.
The trapdoor opened in the floor,
With a view of their friend down below.
They dangled a rope into the depths,
And their dinky comrade scrambled up.
The way clear, they raced for safety.
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