Oblivious to our outer limits,
We tend to the tasks that strengthen our spirits.

The bard gives a strum as he gulps down some rum,
While the monks practice stances to better their chances.

Priests and paladins rise into the skies,
And look down on evil with greatest despise.

For the "Seven Truths" apostates and infernals of Mhaldor will fight;
come pain or death, they shall slay with all of their might.

The forests grow with natural power,
Where in fear, sylvans and druids will never cower.

Occultists, evasive, chaotic and wise,
Hide their dark secrets from prying eyes,

While the serpents roam unheard and unseen,
Their hypnosis so subtle, it feels like a dream.

Jesters will trick and taunt the unwary,
And although they are funny, they can also be scary.

Blademasters live by the name of their sword,
Of hunting in numbers, they never grow bored.

And there are few classes I have failed to mention,
But there is one in particular that has grabbed our attention.

With the grey shadow that takes up the skies,
Comes an alien planet with unannounced surprise

And many things die within its endeavour,
To change the world we live in forever,

But a final anchor in the pages of history,
Is to once and for all solve this strange mystery,

When the Alchemists rise from the cabals of old
And fulfill a prophecy that had once been foretold.

They now work in labs for months on end,
And to our wounds they are able to tend.

With the aide of the ether their skills do ensure,
A brand new method for the ultimate cure.


Penned by my hand on the 18th of Chronos, in the year 583 AF.