The Inman Injuriata or Inman Injured

Of battles, injuries, and Pennsic War,
Of miracles and of brave deeds I sing.
In times of deepest woe for Ansteor
When wounded was their Once and Future King;
His back he wrenched, and so when'er he wore
His gear of battle mighty pains would bring
Him low. The field would not know again
the prowess of the mighty Duke, Inman.

But even though his armor he'd not wear,
He took it with him, though could not say why.
The weight upon his back he could not bear;
His screams of pain would pierce the clouds on high.
So had it been for nearly one whole year;
That agony endured each time he'd tried
To fight. But habits are quite hard to break
So Inman doth his arms to battle take

At War his armory dothprofit well.
Almost he can ignore his battle lust.
For as each customer a friend does tell
Of Inman's skills, he notices the rust
Upon his own scarred armor and poor helm.
So takes his business to one he can trust.
And gladly pays The Duke's most reasonable price
For armor that yet delights the eyes.

Yet as the day of the first battle draws
Ever closer does the noble Duke,
Feel the hunger for the field gnaw
At his bones, and so he does rebuke
The Fates for giving him this flaw
How cruel and how unnatural this fluke
Of circumstances that so painfully bar
His participation in this glorious War.

So weighty is this burden on his heart
He feels his spirit surely soon will break.
It tortures him to idly sit apart
While all about the shores of Cooper's Lake
In every camp the men at arms do start
Their preparation for the battle's sake.
For East and Middle soon will take the field
To see which one contested land must yield

The first day of the battle finally dawns
(Two more shall come, for so the sides agree
That in this matter they shall test their brawn
By fighting not for one day but for three!
First Champions, their dour swords now drawn,
Shall fight, then after, on the field, armies
Shall contend. Next day in the woods they battle.
The third day Town and Bridge will test their mettle.)

And as the first day dawns the Ansteor'ns
Muster before going to the field.
Vowing to slay those whom they make war on
Promising to never basely yield.
Though enemy may be as fierce as gorgons
Each swears to come back with or on his shield!
Nor are these idle boasts these warriors sing,
They these solemn oaths to Queen and King

King Kein, who rules these men by right of arms,
Himself in armor goes now to the fight.
He pledged to face the least foe who would harm
His ally Tsuronaga's vested rights.
And joining him, to Midrealm's great alarm
Is Queen Alisha, famed in battle might,
Rivalling all the tales of ancient slaughter
Told of Bradamonte, Aymon's daughter.

In the midst of this most busy preparation
Enters one lone figure, much beloved
By all those present, who with great elation
Salute him with raised sword in iron glove.
He asks if they will bear a brief oration
From one old Duke deprived by God above
From marching with them out to win the day.
The Ansteorans gladly answer "Yea!"

"Most worthy King and Queen" the Duke begins
"And fellow Ansteors who fight this day
Though I know you need not my help to win
A boon of pity from you I would pray.
My lot would seem to me to be less grim
If in spirit I, perhaps, could join this fray.
(All know I would most happ'ly wield my glaive
But Pain doth hold me here her wretched slave.)

I beg from you who know my whole sad story.
Who fight while I, alas! must here remain.
Let me but a small piece of your glory
To help me bear my lot of woeful pain.
If ever love you bore for this bent, hoary
head of mine, which cannot fight again,
When first assault against the foe you make,
Strike but one blow for poor old Inman's sake."

The King and Queen and all the host he moves
For he'd ruled Ansteora well for years.
Indeed so great their feelings for him prove
That none succeed in holding back their tears.
They promise they shall demonstrate their love
For Ansteora's greatest Royal Peer.
"For Inman!" now becomes their battle cry!
And swear the Mid shall fear it ere they die.

And so now comes the Or and Sable Mullet
To march before the Tiger of the East.
With hottest fire burning in each gullet
That only can be quenched by bloody feast.
Beholding them, the Dragon's spirit plummets,
Their aspect far more terrible as beasts.
And only harshest discipline hard won,
Holds Ansteora back until "lay on."

"For Inman!" calls the host with one fell voice,
And charges at the foe with all their might.
So terrible and warlike is their noise,
That even Calontiri think of flight!
Their onslaught is so fierce it soon destroys
All who oppose them, be they squire or knight.
And so with deeds most valorous and bold,
The Ansteorans Inman's name uphold.
News of the slaughter comes to Inman's forge.
And eager is he all their words to hear.
He looks up and he sees a crow that gorged
Itself so much it seemed a very sphere!
An entrail seems to teather this fat scourge
Of men who fell so bravely, far and near,
It's glassy eyes seem evilly to record,
All those who died by axe and spear and sword.

The Duke dismisses this ill-omen'd bird
From thoughts, and now he voices praise for all
Who fought so well. With heartfelt and forthright words
He thanks his friends for answering his call.
His grace and bearing show he well deserved
Their loyalty and love. Yet their withdrawal
Stirs up again the cup of bitterness
That leaves Duke Inman in such great distress.

The Duke's glad mask of happiness departs
When bosom comrades to their fortress camp return.
This borrowed glory cannot ease his heart
Which for the call of battle fiercely burns!
As one who with his own hands crafted art,
The model's role may justly come to spurn,
If offered as a consolation prize
For losing in some accident his eyes.

So wretched does poor Inman feel his fate,
He even envies those the crow devours.
For they died well, with honor, and their mates
Will sing the praises of their fatal hour.
Yet he, a man of action and of great
Renown, finds these pleasures now beyond his power.
Slow torture to sit idly by the hearth
'Til death at last removes him from the Earth.

The angels in their Heavens peering low
Feel for the great injustice of his plight.
That such a noble spirit now should know
Unending suffering cannot be right!
So they resolve to take the case and go
Before the One whose mercy and whose might
Can heal all hurts or put right any wrong
Before the Holy throne now comes the throng.

Gabriel, as God's herald first comes close,
To trumpet all the good The Duke has done.
Then Michael as war leader of the host,
Speaks of the battles that The Duke has won
for causes good and just, without a boast
Or sign of sinful pride. "Indeed, there's none
Of the seven deadly sins in him appear"
Says Michael. "So why tax you him so dear?"

The Lord the host to silence now commands!
They tremble at His anger now revealed!
He gives them all the sternest reprimand,
For questioning His wisdom with such zeal.
For this, of course, was all his Holy Plan,
God purposely his purposes concealed.
To prove Duke Inman's character the best
He set the noble knight this fearsome test.

By taking from The Duke what he most loved,
His prowess and his manly strength at arms,
God gave the noble knight a chance to prove
That all his virtues, fortitude, and charms
Came from within, not station set above
His fellow man. By showing grace without alarums
And excursions, Inman, like Job, has risen
To highest ranks of praise on Earth or Heaven.

"But now," concludes The Lord. "I do perceive
The time has come to heal Inman's back.
No longer should this paragon know grief
From any sort of suffering or lack!
Raphael! I order you to at once leave
For Earth's sphere and force Pain to retract
Her clutches from poor Inman. But beware!
No mortal man must know that you are there."

(Alas this generation so wrapped up
In sinful error's blinding binding train,
That we would say a fellows in his cups
Or worse, he must be dangerously insane!
If our debased discourse he would disrupt
With tales of seeing angels clear and plain.
Therefore so none will say that Inman lied
Jehova orders Rapheal to hide.)

To aid him in his task the angel takes
An artifact inviolate and pure
Whose very holiness shall surely make
Pain flee lest for a moment she endure
That which caused the very world to shake!
Which helped men in the martyring of Our Lord.
Indeed I sing of nothing less to thee
Than this The Sacred Hole of Calvary!

That very Hole the murdering legions dug
To hold the Cross upon Redemption's Mount
Before which they did dice like callous thugs
While Our Lord endured cruel tortures without count
But afterwards they found they could not plug
With basest Earth what once had held the fount
Of all salvation. So the Hole remained
Until a worthy owner pressed a claim.

King Arthur, was the first, so legend says,
To take from Golgotha the Sacred Hole.
He used it when attacking fortresses
Of evil folk, to burrow as a mole
Beneath their massive walls and buttresses
And thus, for Justice's sake, to bring them low.
Alas, he lost the Sacred Hole, I fear,
In that affair with Lancelot and Guenivere.

The Sacred Hole comes next to Charlemagne;
Great help in fighting Infidels it proves.
For when he rides against them on campaign,
He uses it to trip their horses hooves.
It aids him well in forests and on plains
Or any other places where he strove
Against the Moor. But with his death, alas!
The Sacred Hole from mortal realms doth pass.

This relic Raphael takes to Earth below,
Where all unseen he hovers o'er the War.
As night embraces Pennsic he doth go
To find The Duke and heal his back before
The Woods battle. He searches to and fro,
and finds Inman by Cooper's lake's dark shore.
In Pain's cruel grip, and stumbling in the night.
Raphael hides himself, just out of sight.

Directly in Pain-ridden Inman's path,
Cloaked by the darkness through which none can see,
Raphael does the holy relic cast:
This blessed Sacred Hole of Calvary.
The Duke's left foot within it catches fast.
His whole spine twists and cracks so loud that he
At first fears he most surely now will lose
Those faculties which yet remain in use.

But what transpired was this: the Holy touch
Of Golgoth's Sacred Hole did so distract
Foul Pain with mortal fear, it proved too much.
And so she leapt straight off of Inman's back.
So swift was her departure in her rush
She pushed off of his spine, so it went crack!
And twisted in a manner most fantastic
That the effect is rather chiropractic

As Inman from Hole his foot doth draw,
He straightens, and he finds to his delight,
His back, though slightly tenderish and raw,
Has realigned itself and feels aright!
His cure is so complete and whole withal,
He feels that he might even go and fight!
His armor now he dons in happiness
Which just yesterday morn caused such distress.

And now my friends my tale comes to a close;
I swear that all that I report is true
For I myself these glorious miracles
Did witness as I did report to you.
I saw his back as bent as firing bows
Yet saw him in the Woods as good as new.
So hardy was his fighting and his manner
That 'twas his unit took the Midrealm banner.

So let us charge our glasses now and praise
This noblest knight, the greatest and the best,
And wish him now long life and happy days
Who passed the Good Lord's harshest, fiercest test.
Vivat! Huzzah! All lands salute His Grace
Who faced the cruelest fate with smile and jest
His virtues and his courage should inspire
All men at arms, from Knight to lowest squire.

If my poor story any does offend
Remember, please, I meant it to amuse.
I'll try, as my poor skill allows, to mend
Any feelings that I accidently bruised.
Perhaps the truth a little I did bend,
(Perhaps poetic license I abused)
Forgive me as I end the song I sing,
Of Ansteora's Once and Future King.

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