Friends of Ispin

With swift coordination, Macho Mage ensnares
Draconians ready for Gilbert’s fiery glares.
Vogler’s last militiamen, ill-equipped, stand by,
Witnessing magic flare, and draconian enemies fry.

In Vogler’s library, Gilbert, with Darrett by his side,
Saves precious tomes from war’s encroaching tide.
With arms full of knowledge, they strive against the clock,
Preserving wisdom’s light before the coming shock.

In Becklin’s chamber, passions burn so high,
Karyon, Cudgel, and Becklin, with no need to ask why.
Desperation fuels them, with peril on the way,
Their final night together, ‘ere dawn brings dismay.

In solemn moment, Becklin’s hands bestow,
A box of import, a vow to show.
As Marcus swears, his oath profound,
To protect Darrett, their fates are bound.

Atop the battlements, ‘neath skies so vast and clear,
Marcus and Gilbert ready, with Becklin’s parting cheer.
While Karyon gazes out, to where they hope to land,
Than adjusts the Gnomeflinger: the moment is at hand.

Through the sky they soar, on the Gnomeflinger’s flight,
Kanathar and Macho, a daring, desperate plight.
Above the draconian scouts, their hearts beat fast and loud,
But a hard landing awaits them, in the forest’s shroud.

At Vogler’s gate, a rider stern in armor dark and bold,
Commands that Raven quarter forces under Takhisis’ hold.
Her tone resolute, her fierce demand sharp as any blade,
the Friends of Ispin stand, wary and unswayed.

In council’s grim and shadowed hush, Mayor Raven’s heart does weigh,
With foes at gates and peace in shards, she ponders paths to sway.
Her instinct leans to parley, yet knows it spells their doom,
While voices urge evacuation in the darkened room.

Through smoldering woods, the heroes flee, with urgent news to share,
Macho Mage bears Kanathar, their faces grim, their gazes stare.
Gilbert’s fire holds back the night, Karyon’s arrow flies true,
As Marcus leads to Vogler’s gates, with tidings dark and dire in view.

In night’s embrace, with foes encircled tight,
Cudgel and Jeyev caught in scouting party’s blight.
Human and draconian eyes, gleaming with cold hate,
Stand as shadows ‘fore our heroes, tempting cruel fate.