Twas the night of Simril on the 20th of Nightal, when a jolly old giant paid a strange call,
White bearded and chubby, wrapped in furs colored red, he froze all around with a tip of his head!
Our six little heroes blinked and peered up in wonder, joined by the boy giant, with footsteps like thunder.
“Father Klaustus! You came!” beamed the e-normous boy, “But what I need most now, is not just a toy!”
Klaustus then replied, “Tis your last Simril, son. Your father has passed, now your time has begun.”
“These people they came and they threatened my dad. I miss him so much, I’m really quite sad!
“He showed me this world from our Castle Skyreach, but I’m sure there was more he needed to teach.”
“Be thankful, for each adventuring day - imagining and dreaming were more than just play
“You have knowledge and skills from all that he shared, trust these new friends - you need not be scared!”
Then this giant, this godling, looked down at the party, “I have Phandalin’s gifts that were going to be tardy.
I serve great Tymora, the Goddess of Luck, who thought Leilon a poor place for these things to be stuck.”
With a wave of his hand, we had donned our new gear, “Blagothkus,” roared Tallon, “you’ve nothing to fear!”
“Hurrah!” agreed Ujio, Mon-Kei and Yeet. “These villains,” agreed Willow, “we’ll surely defeat!”
Across the courtyard froze Belcoria’s glare, “They summoned a fiend! How could they dare!??”
“Tymora,” said Klaustus, “grants me this power, at each Simril night - at precisely this hour.
“But I must leave soon, to visit the rest, but first a few glimpses to help guide your quest.”
Our vision then whirled, visiting places nearby, even things not yet happened to our present eye.
“Merry Simril,” he bid as he waved his great hand, “the best kind of luck is what’s cleverly planned!”