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O Paizo, keepers of tale and terror,
Architects of dread halls and hero-roads,
You cast before us a world reborn,
And I, humble cartographer, followed the call.
For my players strode eager into the saga,
And I, with quill and grid, braced for the voyage:
From Roderic’s Wreck where the waves whispered secrets,
To the Peacock Manor, painted in mysteries and misdirection.
Through the winding waters of the Underflume,
To the hot and hissing stones of the Gecko,
Each map a promise, each chamber a choice
Even when a compass spun sideways,
Or a door was lost to the margins of time.
Some rooms were vast as giants’ dreams,
Others furnished with thimble-sized beds
Fit for pixies rather than peril.
Yet in all their quirks and curious corners,
They held the heartbeat of story.
And deeper still we ventured,
To the Degradation of Thybidos,
Where shadows stretched like hungry memories;
Through endless layers of the Peacock Shrine,
A labyrinth of color, madness, brilliance.
At last our Heroes landed in the Eye of Fury,
Where destiny roared, and steel met spell,
And the maps, imperfect and wondrous,
Guided us true to the tale’s blazing end.
So here I offer thanks
To the writers who wove worlds from words,
To the artists who shaped realms from ink,
To the dreamers who paved the roads beneath our feet.
Your adventure was a lantern in the dark,
A feast of imagination,
A playground for heroes and storytellers alike.
May your pens stay sharp,
Your wonders unbound,
And your maps ever lead us
To places worth getting lost in.
:)