Lost at sea he'll never be
A foe to monsters, city-dwellers and kin
Never wavering from ballista or sail
Divided you stand, divided you'll never win
Once a lowly sailor, tentative and pure
Now feared, his name whispered by so many unsure
Some say he's a pirate, some laud his offence
To the wind he rows, the currents his guiding sense
One word is given, the very last
Run you will try, but sinking you will see your mast
Many whisper his name, carried on the wind
Calling and cooing will only draw him closer, the flickering of life dimmed
Rally your sailors, circle his galley
Once he knows your name, his crew he will rally
Words are uttered, the first, the last

Landon Stormcrow, such fame unsurpassed

Penned by my hand on the 11th of Scarlatan, in the year 914 AF.