Epic of Euskara

The **Epic of Euskara** is the first literary work in the Oilycraft SMP Season 3 to be written and published in a book and quill, and second literary work after the **Korvămotkă Chronicle**. It was written by Count Vladwick of Euskara and published in year 1052 (Day 27). It is an **epic poem** recounting the history of Euskara in verse and rhyme. In terms of poetic structure, the books are divided into several *Canti* with variable rhyming patterns and total length. The original copy sits on a lectern in the library of the Jauregia in Bizkaia, while other copies of the book were given to Euskara's allies, trade partners, and on diplomatic missions, usually accompanied by a gift of cake.

## Book I: The Arrival of Count Vladwick and the Founding of Bizkaia

Book one relates the events from the Count's entry into Oilycraft to the founding of the Occitanian Combine. The events of book one take place in the years 1010-1014 (Days 6-8). It is structured into six *Canti* of variable rhyming patters, none two alike. *Cantus Primus* relates the Count's arrival at Spawn and the nights he could not leave due to hostile mobs, and how he slayed many along with Jarl Naya of York. *Cantus Secundus* tells how the Count journeyed from Spawn to Venice. *Cantus Tertius* describes the arrival at the Bay of Biscay and the founding of Bizkaia. *Cantus Quartus* records the Count's ascension to lord of the Basques. *Cantus Quintus* tells of the early relations with Scorn and Euskara's vassalage. *Cantus Sextus* recounts the story of Summerium and the founding of Nueva Córdoba and the Occitanian Combine.

### Cantus Primus

> *It was on the year ten*
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> *After the thousand before*
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> *That among many men*
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> *Out of Europe’s core*
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> *Came one in the night,*
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> *No king nor messiah,*
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> *Who in waiting for day,*
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> *Monsters did fight,*
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> *And along with Jarl Naya,*
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> *Monsters did slay,*
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> *To then leave for the shore*
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> *Seeking a land far away.*
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### Cantus Secundus

> *Across Slovenian Plain and Istrian Mount,*
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> *Having built a ship from felled tree,*
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> *Unfurled sails in winds Adriatic,*
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> *Hurrying across the stormy sea,*
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> *To then fight many monsters erratic,*
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> *And make acquaintance of Mr. Bee,*
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> *In the land of Venetian Pierre,*
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> *A tragic death he could not flee.*
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> *Nonetheless, in vehement dare,*
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> *He journeyed back to Italy*
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> *Where Pierre returned him his stuff*
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> *And pointed towards the western sea,*
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> *Beyond terrain wide and rough*
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> *Where the Mediterranean would be.*
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> *Such is the tale of Vladwick, the Count.*
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### Cantus Tertius

> *First, crossing the sea with haste,*
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> *then through the plains of Occitania,*
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> *Chasing a dream soon replaced,*
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> *To reach the shores of Lusitania;*
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> *But then, in reaching Biscayan Bay*
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> *And gazing upon its waters clear,*
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> *Adjacent to mighty Pyrenées*
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> *And Aquitanian Forest near,*
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> *The Count stops to marvel the sight*
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> *As red sun and sky to moon give way,*
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> *And in building a shelter for the night,*
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> *To himself, “have I not,” he asks,*
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> *“Beheld splendour non could surmount?*
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> *“Why not the land of the Basques?”*
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> *Thus, resolutely declares the Count:*
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> *“It shall be here that I will stay!*
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> *For it is with whole heart*
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> *That upon witnessing this natural art*
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> *I have learned there is much to admire*
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> *In these blessed lands of Bizkaia”.*
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### Cantus Quartus

> *When from the East came the light,*
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> *South, he marched, along Western coast*
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> *And over mountains, until his sight*
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> *Revealed the people who were foremost*
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> *In welcoming him into their hearth.*
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> *There, he made them an oath*
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> *That as long as they tilled the earth*
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> *Prosperity and Safety both*
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> *To them, this, he would award.*
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> *Thus, when he set back North*
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> *They followed him, their lord.*
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> *It was so that henceforth*
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> *The Euskaldunak praised his name*
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> *And Euskara was his domain.*
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### Cantus Quintus

> *Then one morning, an envoy came.*
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> *Alces, he said, was his name.*
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> *He claimed to hail from the land of Scorn;*
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> *A land the Count had thought forlorn.*
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> *But not late came the hour*
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> *When he understood Scorn’s power,*
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> *And though Alces urged him to leave his land*
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> *Advising him not to force Scorn’s hand,*
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> *Vladwick remained painfully aware*
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> *Of what would become of those in his care.*
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> *And so, an idea formed in the Count’s mind*
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> *A cunning solution to this did he find*
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> *One that could save all of Basque kind*
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> *But one demanding that his fealty bind*
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> *To Alces and all great Scornish men.*
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> *“Instead,” He proposed, there and then,*
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> *“What if, my allegiance, I were to pledge*
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> *To you; and Euskara, on your empire’s edge,*
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> *Rather than leave and forsake you, perchance*
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> *Became your vassal, and gateway to France;*
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> *Gave you our riches, and answered your call*
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> *In war and in peace, to help you and all*
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> *Of Scorn and its allies, in your time of need,*
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> *Could we not then make your power exceed*
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> *The heavens themselves and all beneath?*
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> *And in return, your swords unsheathe*
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> *When our enemies threaten all that is Basque*
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> *Not more that, is all that I ask”.*
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> *The Count’s request Alces carefully heard,*
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> *And after much thought, gave him his word:*
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> *“To our deal, it is clear, we can make amends*
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> *“So that henceforth our nations shall be friends”*
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> *Having agreed upon their final deal,*
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> *Vladwick gathered a tribute to seal*
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> *Their virtuous accord forever more:*
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> *Half a stack of Basque iron ore*
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> *Smelted into ingots, not at all old,*
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> *Half a stack of nuggets of gold,*
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> *And a full stack of whimsical redstone dust*
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> *And, most preciously, to strengthen their trust:*
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> *Two diamonds and two emeralds, shining true,*
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> *Reflecting the light in their beautiful hue,*
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> *And as Basque custom dictates, last but not least:*
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> *Ten cooked fish from Biscay, for the men to feast.*
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> *No sooner did the Count his tribute pay*
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> *And back to Bizkaia made his way*
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> *He received the assurances that there he could stay*
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> *Caring for his people, in the Bay of Biscay.*
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> *In time, close ties these nations would foster*
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> *Such was the path that led both to prosper.*
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### Cantus Sextus

> *Not long after treaty signed*
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> *Another appeared in central Spain;*
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> *One most courteous, named Summerium,*
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> *Who to settle Córdoba was inclined,*
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> *But no sooner was known his fame,*
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> *That his projects became delirium,*
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> *For as Vladwick watched events unfold*
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> *Beyond the Pyrenées in Bizkaia far,*
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> *He knew history was to be retold*
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> *When he heard Alces leave Gibraltar*
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> *To explain once again Scorn’s desire*
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> *To rule over the land of Spain entire.*
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> *As Alces the envoy came once more*
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> *Now to Summerium, at his door,*
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> *He urged the latter to leave that land.*
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> *Begrudgingly, Summerium did understand.*
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> *But this time, history did not repeat*
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> *For in no small but grand a feat*
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> *Sumerium packed all he could carry*
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> *And through the Scornish Marches he tracked.*
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> *Vladwick reached out and offered a hand*
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> *As someone who almost shared that same fate*
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> *Yet Summerium refused, but not to leave the Count warry,*
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> *assured Vladwick that he would arrive intact;*
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> *And indeed, in short time, reached another land,*
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> *And upon settling, founded a new state:*
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> *Nueva Córdoba, it’s glory sure*
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> *After all its founder did endure*
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> *Before arriving at the Côte d’Azure.*
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> *Still, the Count offered his home,*
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> *And reminded Summerium he was not alone.*
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> *As months then passed, their friendship now grown,*
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> *Summerium to the Count with a proposal came:*
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> *“Let us be part of a nation same,*
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> *Our Occitan land in its name,*
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> *Create a union between your people and mine,*
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> *Forever allied in Occitanian Combine;*
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> *Would that not be rather fine?”*
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> *The Count responded after much thought:*
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> *“Challenge Scorn, that we cannot,*
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> *For I’ve already their protection bought,*
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> *Though in exchange my sovereignty sold;*
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> *And even you have heard told*
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> *That they are a formidable power of old.*
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> *So, if their vassal you become too*
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> *And they agree to take in you*
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> *Then we can see this through:*
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> *Between Scorn and the Combine forge a bond*
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> *That in time all shall grow fond.*
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> *Ask them, see how they respond.”*
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> *And so, they did, and Alces heard,*
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> *As did the others, Macbook and Hollow.*
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> *“To your request, we show no defiance.*
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> *Thus, we agree to give you our word*
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> *That if our lead you willingly follow,*
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> *then Scorn and the Combine shall form an alliance”*
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> *With that final proclamation in Alces’ voice,*
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> *The Occitanian Combine was officially born.*
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> *That day, across the Pyrenées, all did rejoice*
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> *From Occitan Plains to the Marches of Scorn.*
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> *From humble beginnings came the Count,*
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> *As did Euskara, under Pyrenean Mount,*
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> *But through adversity they followed through*
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> *Alongside their allies, all friends true,*
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> *with their fraternal bonds held strongly tight.*
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> *No doubt, Euskara’s future shines bright.*
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>

## Book II: The Tale of Saint Ummayah

Book II of the Epic of Euskara is a hagiography of the Potatoist Saint Ummayah, considered a heretic by the official Potatoist Church based in Dacia. It recounts the early life of Ummayah, his expulsion from his homeland in southern Spain by Scorn, his asylum in Bizkaia, his journey to the lost nation of Éire where he was canonised a Saint, and his final days of defiant return to Spain and the several **amethyst crosses** he built across the world. This book was published in the year 1106 (Day 54). It consists of five Canti. *Cantus Primus* is sung roughly to the melody of Miracle of Sound's "The Tale of Cu Chulainn" (I highly recommend you listen) and describes Ummayah's early life, invasion by Scorn, enslavement, and escape. *Cantus Secundus* recounts his asylum in Bizkaia, meeting with NeonFish the knight, and journey to Eiré. *Cantus Tertius* recounts the events of his Sanctification in Eiré. *Cantus Quartus: The Fall of Eiré* skips the chronology to describe this historical event, sung in a tragic melody (to be posted later). *Cantus Quintus* narrates his return to his homeland, resistance against Scorn, growing influence and death, is notable for its consecutive rhymes.

### Cantus Primus

*There once lived in the heart of Spain*

*A noble and gentle soul,*

*And Ummayah was his name*

*Now hear his story whole:*

*Born in the lands of the south,*

*a tranquil life he had,*

*With enough food for his mouth,*

*Nothing was ever bad.*

*No evils ever came his way*

*Under the warm Murcian Sun,*

*But then came the fateful day*

*When away he had to run!*

*From the north they came,*

*The Scornish Knights, swords in hand,*

*To make Iberia their domain*

*And seize for them his land!*

*They killed the women and the men,*

*Even his parents they did slay,*

*They locked him up inside a pen*

*And shipped him far away!*

*Ummayah once a farmer boy*

*Had now become a slave.*

*Gone was his life of joy,*

*A past he could not save.*

*And so it was that there and then*

*He swore unto his name:*

*That once he was set free again*

*His land he would reclaim!*

*In Vienna he was sold*

*To a man by the name of Rick,*

*Who bought him for a lot of gold*

*And put him to carry brick.*

*Tortured, scolded, mutilated,*

*For his culture and his race;*

*Bruised, abused, humiliated,*

*A life wrought with disgrace.*

*Yet one day, a change of heart,*

*When the master he came to see:*

*“In all of this you have a part*

*To play, so now I set you free”*

*Thus, no longer one enthralled,*

*And on the back of a giant fish,*

*He sailed home and there recalled*

*His ancestors’ final wish:*

*“Visit us, remember us,*

*do not forget what made you!*

*you are the son of Murcia” thus*

*he crossed the waters blue,*

*but upon sighting Murcian shore*

*they ambushed him at sea;*

*Scorn jailed and abused him more*

*And again he sought to flee.*

*Then, another sign of grace*

*When a kind woman gave him aid*

*“Now I cannot show my face*

*For Scorn I have betrayed.*

*But please forgive their cruel ways*

*For they worship only the dark;*

*I know you’ll bring us brighter days*

*And in history leave your mark.*

*Go now in the cover of night*

*And this potato with you take,*

*Someday you’ll show Scorn the light*

*And the world you shall remake.*

*Go north now, for there is a friend*

*Who will protect you from Scornish men*

*And to you extend a hand*

*Until your land is yours again”.*

*With these words they parted ways*

*And Ummayah from Iberus fled*

*He tracked right up the Pyrenées*

*For Scorn pursued him for his head.*

*He scaled up Euskara’s land*

*And traversed its tallest mount,*

*There he found a haven grand,*

*The city of Vladwick the Count.*

*There once lived in the heart of Spain*

*A noble and gentle soul,*

*And Ummayah was his name*

*This is his story whole.*

### Cantus Secundus

*Ah, Bizkaia, what marvellous sight!*

*A whole city built of andesite*

*Adourned with many a coloured dome,*

*A place to proudly call one’s home.*

*Back then, it was not all that grand,*

*A wooden hut, a shore of sand,*

*Nonetheless, it was in that land,*

*That Ummayah was welcomed by friendly hand.*

*No sooner had he reached the door,*

*He collapsed exhausted on the wooden floor*

*But was carefully held and taken inside,*

*Placed on the bed to rest where he lied.*

*Despite his intrusion, he was not denied*

*To ask for asylum, for a place to hide,*

*And told by this kind and attentive stranger*

*That here he was safe and free from all danger.*

*Truth be told, it must be said,*

*That while he was being clothed and fed,*

*The Count told him that he was aware*

*Of what brought him to Bizkaia fair*

*In such a hurry and such despair*

*Fleeing the most heinous nightmare*

*That Scorn had on him imposed*

*As they tried to keep him enclosed.*

*“A story like yours I have heard before,*

*It’s that of the ruler of the eastern shore,*

*Summerium, my friend, whom Scorn also banished*

*From beautiful Iberia, now a memory vanished,*

*But through the hard work of his laborious hand,*

*Undeterred, he settled anew in new land.*

*So, though I also take pity on your tale,*

*I know that in the end you too shall prevail”.*

*Encouraged by these words and once finally rested,*

*Ummayah was sure that his spirit would never be bested*

*Because in Vladwick he had found a truly good friend,*

*One that would support him to the very end*

*And who assured him that if he ever found himself alone,*

*Bizkaia would welcome him and be his home.*

*And though Scorn conquered Iberia and took Murcia’s share,*

*to intrude upon an ally’s business, this they would not dare.*

*Ummayah, wishing to demonstrate his gratitude,*

*Offered the potato he received, and in utter plenitude,*

*The Count accepted, and rejoiced in his toil*

*For this was the first potato in Euskara’s soil.*

*And though Vladwick invited him to permanently stay,*

*Ummayah wished to once again be on his way,*

*So Vladwick asked him to wait for the tubers to grow,*

*And once they were harvested, he would let Ummayah go.*

*Yet during the harvest a traveller came by,*

*T’was a mighty warrior and very swell guy.*

*“I am from the land of Lech and tribe of the Fish,*

*My name is Neon, and I have but one wish:*

*My sins as a mercenary I seek to redeem,*

*So, when I received a vision in a dream*

*To find he who shall erect the holy sign,*

*I knew it was to be my mission divine”*

*After hearing about what the traveller sought*

*The Count welcomed him and after some thought*

*Spoke thus: “This here is the right place;*

*My friend Ummayah, in Scorn, cannot show his face;*

*Iberian by birth, yet forced to flee,*

*Sought thus to come take refuge with me,*

*And brought with him this blessed bountiful crop,*

*Now ready to harvest as you came by for a stop.*

*The timing of all this is no coincidence to me,*

*And the seed I planted yielded tubers three;*

*That there is one for each of us seems to me preordained,*

*And regardless of your arrival, Ummayah wouldn’t’ve remained*

*For I promised him he could leave just as you arrived,*

*Might your coming here not have been divinely prescribed?*

*And the acquiring of the potato, this most curious invention,*

*Could that too not have been divine intervention?*

*A stranger he never met helped him escape Scorn’s city*

*And told him specifically to carry this crop so pretty;*

*And other miracles still he saw manifest,*

*Such as when his slave-master freed him to go on his quest.*

*So, Sir Neon the Fish, I believe you can prove your devotion*

*By helping Ummayah set these divine events in motion,*

*Once we have set him on the right course,*

*I feel he will bring balance to the force.”*

*Ummayah and Neon partners came to be,*

*So Vladwick built them a ship to sail the sea.*

*One sought redemption, the other, his land,*

*But both undertaking in a mission grand.*

*And yet, Ummayah was still sceptical,*

*Was he really divine, or was it theoretical?*

*But in Brittany, Neon had a vision at night:*

*Of a holy land and Ummayah in the light.*

*“The Holy Potatoist State of Eiré, though I cannot go*

*because only you were in the vision, so it must be so.*

*I take my potato, for my part is done.*

*Set the ship northwest after I am gone.*

*Give your potato to Archbishop Violettt, and with him speak;*

*He shall give you the answers you seek”.*

*There they parted ways and Ummayah set sail;*

*What secrets would the land of Eiré unveil?*

### Cantus Tertius

*In the horizon the land appeared,*

*Glowing bright beneath sun of noon,*

*The ship slowed as the shore neared,*

*To enter Polloster’s harbour soon.*

*And just as Ummayah docked*

*And the anchor in the seabed locked*

*He was greeted by Ollie the Good,*

*Victoria’s newly crowned king,*

*Who as every king should,*

*Gave the newcomer his blessing*

*For he had just been baptised that day*

*And now followed the Potatoist way.*

*The good king said goodbye*

*And to Victoria made his way.*

*Ummayah, with spirits high,*

*Left thus Polloster Bay*

*And in the city found whom he sought,*

*Dressed in regalia of the richest lot:*

*Archbishop Violettt, a holy soul,*

*Who welcomed him with friendly heart*

*And heard Ummayah tell his goal*

*And so asked him to play a part*

*in completing the religious rite*

*to be baptised that very night.*

*To this Ummayah agreed gladly,*

*And Violettt asked him about his lore.*

*He thus began recounting sadly*

*the evils of Scorn’s rotten core.*

*Once the end of his tale was near*

*Violettt told him to have no fear*

*For he knew Scorn had lost their way*

*But they would work to set things right.*

*Next, he gave Ummayah a place to stay*

*While they waited for the night,*

*And found him enough to eat*

*Before they left the paved street.*

*When the stars shone they set about,*

*The Potato from Euskara Ummayah got*

*And to Violettt he gave it out*

*Making the bishop stop in thought:*

*“A holy sign this has to be,*

*The third spud in a spawn of three*

*From the one the strange woman gifted;*

*I wonder if it could be so*

*That that woman was but a shifted*

*Form of our holiest Great Potato?*

*May her spirit be ever blessed!*

*Ah, we have arrived at your test!”*

*Infinaqua, the holy pool,*

*Where one can cleanse their soul,*

*Reach enlightenment full,*

*And become a potatoist whole.*

*But Ummayah anxiously hesitated,*

*His feelings about this conflated.*

*Suddenly, they were assailed*

*By creatures of the nightly dark*

*Monsters, whom by Scorn were hailed*

*For their cruelty stern and stark.*

*Quickly fleeing hallowed ground*

*They took cover beneath the church’s mound.*

*Though they quickly shut the door,*

*Still their foes stood outside.*

*Then, miraculously, came succour:*

*A hero arrived to turn the tide!*

*Jarl Naya of pagan creed*

*Came to them in their hour of need.*

*The flag of York fiercely waving*

*As the Jarl unsheathed his sword,*

*In grand a battle, Eiré saving,*

*As he braved the entire horde.*

*But the true salvation in that fight*

*Came from the horizon in glaring light.*

*The Sun’s arrival set the monsters ablaze,*

*The very last straddlers Naya did kill.*

*Ummayah and Violettt thanked him, amazed,*

*And the Jarl unto them announced his will:*

*“To you, Ummayah, I give this device,*

*To make any material, just this shall suffice.*

*You will find that Jorvik is an advanced land,*

*But to be true, even I must confess,*

*That without the Sun’s miracle at hand*

*I would have fallen to the monsters, yes”.*

*The Archbishop-Cardinal thanked him still*

*As did Ummayah, praising his skill.*

*Now inspired by Naya the brave,*

*When asked to enter the baptising pool,*

*This time the request he did not waive,*

*Ummayah jumped in and kept his cool.*

*Yet as Violettt poured the water down*

*In shock, Ummayah thought he would drown;*

*For a moment he fainted, bewildering all,*

*Violettt panicked in desperate craze*

*But then came forth out of the wall*

*Alongside the pool, an emerald staircase;*

*And up he came, no longer fainted,*

*In miraculous stupor, Ummayah the Sainted.*

*Heralded by divine action,*

*upon steps with potatoes scattered,*

*Ummayah emerged in Saintly fashion*

*And in his presence, Violettt was flattered.*

*The smell of baked potatoes filled the air,*

*Over were the days of evil and despair.*

*“God is merciful! God is great!*

*By the grace of God I have been saved!*

*All miracles up to now were fate,*

*Come is the hour we craved!*

*Oh, Great Potato, thou art blessed!*

*Your endless kindness all can attest”*

*Speaking then not one word more,*

*With Naya’s device he walked north,*

*With new holy powers in store,*

*He made an amethyst cross rise forth.*

*“This is what the Great Potato intended,*

*He has become a Saint, he has ascended;*

*His sins forgiven, his form remade,*

*Oh, thou art blessed, Potato Grand!”*

*In his name, Violettt and Naya prayed*

*When the Saint left the holy land.*

*Ummayah, a noble and blessed soul,*

*Such is the Saint’s story whole.*

### Cantus Quartus: The Fall of Eiré

*Before we get on to the rest of our story*

*A most tragic tale must first be told;*

*A lament with no virtue, no honour, no glory:*

*The demise of our beloved Eiré of old.*

*Long after the Saint, in ten-twenty-four,*

*Pirates appeared on Eiré’s shore,*

*They pillaged and plundered and sacked the land,*

*The people of Eiré could not make a stand.*

*They transgressed Eiré’s structures in illegal ways*

*And killed its civilians in days upon days,*

*All just to bolster their Captain’s fame,*

*They slaughtered and raided shouting his name:*

*Indronil*

*A name carrying ill*

*His heart fill*

*with virtue nill*

*Indronil*

*Ruthless still*

*Intent to kill*

*And destruction spill*

*When they finally left, Polloster was burned.*

*It wouldn’t be long before they returned,*

*So in desperate attempt, the Archbishop cried*

*To isolate Eiré from the world outside;*

*The people thus built huge long earthen walls*

*But the pirates still eager to take them as thralls,*

*Breached their defences and took over their fort,*

*Now all of Eiré had just one last resort…*

*As we continue this most tragic story,*

*A sorrowful tale that must be told,*

*A lament with no virtue, no honour, no glory,*

*Remember our beloved Eiré of old!*

*They called and called for their neighbours’ aid*

*But Nariño and Munster could not be swayed.*

*So, the Cardinal called upon an ally of old,*

*The Righteous Paladin with a heart of gold:*

*Neon the Fish, the honourable knight*

*Who long ago answered Saint Ummayah’s plight,*

*Once a mercenary but redeemed in his ways,*

*He came to aid Eiré in its final days.*

*Against,*

*Indronil*

*A name carrying ill*

*His heart fill*

*with virtue nill*

*Indronil*

*Ruthless still*

*Intent to kill*

*And destruction spill*

*The Pirate King, as he now fashioned*

*Found ruling Eiré his new favourite distraction;*

*And so he imprisoned the holiest man*

*And had Violettt the Cardinal tortured again.*

*Eiré’s treasury and throne, all that he did steal,*

*And when Neon arrived to broker a deal*

*He seized the bishop and threatened to cut off his neck!*

*Forcing the Paladin to lift his sword and attack!!!*

*But then!*

*The blade it seemed*

*In mistaken spin*

*Cut the bishop thin*

*across the wall*

*The knight redeemed*

*Righteous paladin*

*Who atoned his sin*

*Now lost it all!*

*In the confusion Indronil ran away,*

*As Neon realised the price he would pay;*

*From Knight Redeemed to Knight Forsaken,*

*He let the darkness inside awaken,*

*And all around him as Eiré fell,*

*He made from obsidian a gateway to hell*

*And there retreated, drowning in shame,*

*Knowing that things would never be the same.*

*Now before we end this terrible story,*

*A tearful tale hard to be told,*

*A lament with no virtue, no honour, no glory,*

*Don’t forget our beloved Eiré of old!*

*Their leader dead, bless his soul,*

*The people of Eiré had nowhere to go*

*But they left all the same, looking ahead,*

*For the fields of Eiré were barren and dead.*

*Nariño and Munster divided the land*

*And there found destruction they could not understand.*

*The holy land rose nevermore;*

*Let not its memory be confined to lore!*

### Cantus Quintus

*Back to Bizkaia Ummayah came,*

*Now a man of Saintly name,*

*He thanked Vladwick all the same,*

*And professed his desire to reclaim*

*His rightful land south in Spain*

*Which Scorn had wrongfully taken gain*

*In their misguided attempt at fame*

*And desire to expand their domain.*

*After a meal when both were fed*

*He asked Vladwick for a bed*

*As the one trusted friend he had,*

*The Count pointed to the sea ahead*

*To where the coast touched the red*

*Of the setting sun’s sky, and said:*

*“in that land no man has bled,*

*It is as joyous as a couple wed,*

*From there you once fled*

*Fearing they’d follow you and cut your head,*

*And I feared to find you dead.*

*Such were the events that led*

*To the moment you and I met.*

*Now, that land you’ll get*

*To resupply and a home set*

*Should you perchance regret*

*To against Scornish odds bet;*

*I hope you understand that”.*

*Not long after he was on his way,*

*Hiking up the Pyrenées,*

*Farther and farther from the bay*

*And the cherished haven of Biscay.*

*He would journey everyday*

*And to the Great Potato pray;*

*When he sensed the Scornish fray*

*He would take a detour far away.*

*And when he found a place to stay*

*He didn’t stay long anyway,*

*Travelling quick and light by day*

*And at night letting caution sway*

*And his prudence obey,*

*Be it as it may;*

*Until there came the day*

*When coming across his way*

*Would be the land that once there lay*

*Great Murcia in its heyday.*

*And indeed he returned there,*

*Finding the land desolate and bare.*

*He began thus to repair*

*The damage caused in the olden nightmare*

*When Scorn in their terrible dare*

*Had invaded and wrought despair.*

*He found more of the ore so rare,*

*Amethyst, with its beautiful glare,*

*And there built a great cross, tall and fair*

*At which, in awe, he would stare*

*Later he’d call Vladwick and*

*Show him around his ancestral land,*

*Now almost all reduced to sand;*

*But Vladwick admired that cross grand,*

*Built by Ummayah’s own hand,*

*And as his friend, did understand,*

*His wish to remake that hinterland*

*Into a hill upon which to stand*

*And build a fort to be manned*

*to oppose the scornish band*

*So to defend his motherland,*

*Even though Scorn had no campaign planned*

*To once again have Ummayah banned*

*From what they considered as their land.*

*Slowly but surely, they returned,*

*The children of Murcia, whose freedom they earned*

*By hiding and fleeing, who in struggling learned*

*Never to be overturned.*

*Ummayah’s followers grew more and more,*

*Their numbers slowly starting to soar.*

*Feeling confident, therefore,*

*He built more crosses in foreign shore*

*And more people came to him adore*

*And recited amongst themselves his lore*

*Holding him dear in their very core.*

*It was him that they yearned for.*

*Once he mustered enough might,*

*To his followers he would issue a plight*

*That long he had held in sight:*

*“If your heart judges that it is fair and right,*

*Come, join my cause and fight*

*To vanquish away the evils of night*

*And restore Scorn to its days of light!*

*Let us all live in a world bright,*

*Blessed by the Great Potato’s foresight!”*

*But his appeal was not to be,*

*For finally now did Scorn see,*

*The severity of degree*

*Of the threat from his decree.*

*This time they would not let him flee,*

*But strike him down most ruthlessly.*

*They called upon one corrupted, he,*

*Neon, the knight forsaken, the mercenary,*

*Who along with Emperor Alces the mighty,*

*Struck during Ummayah’s vulnerability.*

*When the Saint was returning from the sea*

*And was protected by no company,*

*They attacked him in all their barbarity.*

*He dodged their assault, just barely,*

*And thus they fought, all three,*

*Until he was wounded mortally*

*By Alces, but the final blow was dealt in treachery*

*From the one that had once been friendly.*

*Thus Ummayah’s dreams were not to be,*

*But they remain strong in his legacy.*

*Yet this is not the end of Ummayah’s tale,*

*For lest it be thought that his legacy derailed,*

*Know only that his will shall prevail,*

*For ever since, Scorn’s regret did unveil,*

*And though they still have a long path to trail,*

*They have come far from what the darkness entailed.*

*And let it be known that his death is not stale;*

*His followers believe that from the farside shores he shall sail*

*And return to our world, this time without fail,*

*Bringing our salvation, and the Great Potato hail!*

*There once lived in the heart of Spain,*

*A Saintly and holy soul,*

*Ummayah was his name,*

*This was his story whole.*