In Waymeet, 'neath Moonsea's gleam so bright,
Our heroes' tale begins, a fateful night,
DonBrapp, a cleric, forged in dwarven flame,
Unleashed his wrath, undead horde to tame.

Gouts of fire rained upon the foe,
As Zengyi's hordes met their fiery woe,
DonBrapp's faith, unwavering and bold,
In the heart of battle, his story told.

Quil-Ro, an elf, with magic's grace,
Masterful fire in his trembling embrace,
His mind, a fragile and shadowed veil,
But his power burned, like a fiery gale.

Kailute, the taunter, in demon's lair,
Endless jests and an endless dare,
With each demon's fall, his laughter's sound,
Mocking darkness that surrounded.

Draxo the ranger, arrows true and keen,
Yet a bowstring snap, a sight unseen,
For usually error-free in his mark,
But in the fray, sometimes strings depart.

In a Vistani wagon, they took to flight,
Three days and nights in a skyward fight,
Through magic's weave and courage's fire,
They battled undead, never to tire.

Waymeet's heroes, their valor bright,
Against the darkness, they stood upright,
From moonlit shores to skies so wide,
Their legend lives, forever in stride.