Ibrahim’s second day in Restenford, aptly told in haiku:

A massacre might
Incite many to stay but
Our party took flight.

Ibrahim’s insights
Ignored. To plans to find mom
Ib mutters, ‘alright.’

We climbed up in spite
Of the castle walls’ height and
Our limited sight.

The ground was not right —
It was just a lame worm but
These n00bs took fright.

Our haiku was trite
But allowed us to escape
The worm’s fearsome bite.

We entered with light
And checked room after room, and
This took a long Zeit.

First floor had a wight —
Or some undead-y thing that
The scholar did smite.

Together, we’re bright:
We set a trip trap, and, well,
We waited till night.

A corridor tight
Trapped our foes; all were glad to
Avoid a fierce fight.

Ib’s plans for tonight?
Get a gal and query her
Hard, as it were — quite.

Let it be said, rarely is the pen mightier than the scimitar. ■