Games played on a larger scale,
A peculiar group and an odd tale,
A story of the motley crew that came together,
A beginning for the storms they’d weather.
The keepers trip to a party of finery and gentry,
Picked the night of the moon and blue was their entry,
The kept were forced into glass sphere for a game unavoidable was the fight
Battling with Wits, Spark, or with Might.
A four armed yeti battled, horrific white beast,
An old wizen lady, one blue down to say the least,
A blue darkling was thrust to face a posionous white shroom
They were both fearful not knowing if it was fate or doom that loomed
The darkling of blue proved more resourceful with his brilliance of wit,
The mushroom was hoisted by a mechincal spider and into his belly he did get,
But suddenly it jerked, sputtered, flop to its side,
Even the mechincal are known to die.
Flailing legs knocked wild and glass bobbles did clatter
The changelings watched the board fade away to the floor and the glass did shatter
While one jumped of as quick as the feet
The others moved back to help the fallen and the strife they would meet
One found a man gazing at the wonder of the ceiling
Her words to move, of desperation and slas should have left him reeling
Fate seemed sealed as she ran away
As her jailer roared to stop and to stay.
Three darklings six legs but on needed mending
One helped by two for medical tending
All the fae looked on with scorn in their eye
Three little darklings, one flipped them the bird goodbye.
The fastest found the exit and a mouse mechnical
with promise to watch over their young she was told the secret that lay in the botanical
A baby metal mouse was now in her care
Knowledge of a promise pledged and an escape to share.
The fartherest to reach one last changling assisted
The trapping of the fellow changling his work it resisted
Moving away the last solemn pair
All playthings helpers and helped their jailors aware
With odd metal spring in hand they group ran on hoping for safety
Through briar, bramble and heddge the run seemed hasty
Blood was shed, and flesh for torn
Each felt a piece of them left behind, abandoned and forlorned
The group fell as the world reversed hard on a rock
As the tower in town hit twelve o clock
An odd man collected fruit but stopped to let the people hear it
The group was told welcome to the free haven of the mountain spirit.