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The Lord of the Torts
by D.V. Bowden

In Bama dwelt the Fobbits, on the edge of the sea;

A happy people, simple and free.

But ere a shadow fell o'er the land;

From Mount Gumory the dark lord Bea-slay stretched forth his hand.

The Lord of the Torts had long been known;

And wielding dark weapons his foul armies had grown.

With the blood of "the negligent" their swords were stained,

Assaulted and vanquished, mighty corporations were slain.

In hurried flight, persecution they sought to escape,

While laughing hyenas and vultures did gape.

As his servants the Tort-wraiths scoured the land,

Bea-Slay laughed, the Ring of Tort secure on his hand.

But aye, the oppressed lay not dead in their graves,

But bided their time and sharpened their staves.

The day of Redemption they knew would draw nigh,

When the banner of freedom would once again be held high.

In Avala their forces massed and prepared;

For an assault on the gates of the Dark Lord's dark lair.

Terrible was the power of the Tort, this they knew;

Feasor's legions they opposed, though they were few.

Men of law and Fobbits in bright armour arrayed;

The foul Torcs and dark-suited Leeches were held at bay.

At the gates of Feasor on the plains of Torthell they met,

And the battle that begun has not finished yet.

The loathesome Tort-wraiths were the foulest indeed,

Flaming SUV's they rode, like terrible steeds.

A hapless Fobbit strayed from the pack,

They fell upon him, their claws in his back.

His demise was fearful and awful to behold,

Defeat seemed certain, their blood ran cold.

But then came a shout, power untold;

Comes now a warrior, strong and bold!

Stepped forth the Champion, clad in bronze and silver,

Wielding Arbitration, the Tort-wraith killer.

With a mighty stroke, he cleaved from the hand,

The Ring of the Tort that had darkened the land.

Mountains shook and dark towers fell;

The sun shone on the ruined land that had been Torthell.

Up from the Fobbits came a great shout,

When the fear of Feasor they felt go out.

The power of Bea-Slay was stayed for a time,

But the Dark Lord raged, and called it a crime.

Arbitration and Tort contend with each other,

And bitter disputes pit brother 'gainst brother.

Till the end of days, the Ring will exist,

But the temptation to use it all must resist.

For the Tort is the weapon that scorched the land,

And those who wield it wear doom on their hand.

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