A tattered piece of paper drifts with the wind into the Halfling village. If one were to pick it up, it would read:
Once upon a time in a village of old
The wee folk of Goodborough were painstakingly told
That the wondrous village that they had created
Was to be destroyed, pillaged and desecrated
And for no good reason on top of it all
The Skygods were set to see it all fall
And so down they came in a swift vengeance
Their power and reign was truly endless
The wee folk were simply not fit to fight back
They were removed from their lands as quick as a smack
And no matter how much they fought and they moaned
The sum of it all was that they were totally boned
And to you, my friend, who reads this now
Know that your kin thrived anyhow
Continue to tinker, farm, drink, laugh and to fish
And know that those Skygods are in the abyss
Never again shall their wrath prevail
For the wee folk of Goodborough live to tell the tale.
-R.H.