Let me tell you of a young man named Helm, Who aspired to be a knight He devised a plan to depart his realm, Enabling life to take flight Helm trained every day, without remittal, Gallantly upholding his code But felt his way would amount to little, So he sought solace in the road
Helm stopped in Pisar, a city quite old, Where resided a templar of fame The templar scoffed at the evils of gold, As he ate escargots o’er a flame Discouraged by the templar’s delusion, Helm did not subscribe to his tale Spurred by a sudden need for seclusion, Returned once again to the trail
Undaunted, he drifted to Lenembour, Home to a champion of honour That brave champion boasted of valour, But he acted more like a fawner Dismayed by the champion’s deception, His spurious image now shattered Helm proceeded to the next inception, Renewing a journey that mattered
Thus he landed in Tholmain, and halted, To meet a paladin deemed pure Yet this paladin, praised and exalted, Hid a nature false and obscure Helm saw past the phony benevolence, At the insidious wanton fraud Renounced the paladin’s malevolence, And resumed his odyssey abroad
After a while, Helm paused for a bit, Took stock of all of his choices Only three options, he had to admit, Succumb, desist…or the voices No choice at all, Helm made his decision, Which he vindicates to this day, Trusting his own code, in his own vision, Sees now, this was always the way
