The streets of the city were chilly that night,
Foreboding work of doom.
I hurried home by pale lamplight,
Anxious for my room.

I came upon one Smyth of Dreams,
My honored leader of guild.
His eyes were bright with a dangerous gleam,
The night, with adventure, 'twould be filled.

He had with him a younger elf,
Whose name I can't recall.
For his journey, I offered myself,
And our enemies to our blades would fall.

We three set off, with hearty song,
And many a twisted jest.
The night was dark, and the journey long,
And little time was had for rest.

'Ere we entered the Hills that were Lost,
We were joined by friend Raw Will.
He void to help, whatever the cost,
And we ventured into the Hills.

The quips were many, came fierce and fast,
Raw suffered from my wit.
Smyth abstained unto the last,
And jested just a bit.

We cae unto the place of dread,
Where the evil dracs were laired.
We knew we soon might all be dead,
So, I'll admit, were scared.

The fight was brief, the action hot,
Our side came out on top.
We had lived, the dracs had not,
They had burned, and crackeled, and popped!

My tale is done, in hackneyed verse,
With awful meter gone wrong.
All praise Tyr, it could have been worse,
I could have sung a song!