A Poem for a MagicDuel Christmas

The steps to the Archives
Are far too steep
The crew are ejected
Right into a heap

Granos observes
From a fountain nearby
He know not to question what
Or even why

He merely returns
To his silent work
Worshipping fountains
The hooded berk

The fountain ignores
Granos’s cries
and a cloud of smoke
Shoots past as he sighs

The cloud is Mur
Lord of the realm
He is the captain
The man at the helm