The Raven

Not last night, but the night before,

I heard a knocking at my door.

To open it I crossed the floor,

And heard a voice say "nevermore."

…

Behold me stood an archer dark,

Under the awning he had parked.

Could tell that this was not a lark,

His words were blunt, bitter and stark.

…

"Strife is beset by dharkwave,

All the realms they covet, crave.

We seek the aid of strong and brave,

So are you friend, or coward, knave?"

…

For a moment, paused, did I,

Stood under door, and under sky.

The day had come to fight or fly,

Where we would live, or we would die.

…

So I agreed with silent nod,

To stand alongside those of gods.

Old comforts I chose to shod,

And now to Strife I slowly prod.

…

To Strife has come the touch of war,

For life and peace we all fight for.

Need men-at-arms, need heroes more,

But now, we march unto the fore.