With but a spell, with but a thought,
The beauty of magic stems from the mind of the mage,
Learning the secrets of the Goddess herself,
Hope to never be the source of that rage.
Spells that made cities drift on the breeze,
And Art that created the Moor we know,
Art which raised Mythals around our homes,
And Art Tel’Quessir would nourish and grow.
The Mages of Dharasha are legendary,
Unyielding in their arcane might,
The foes of our forest thought they would prevail,
But instead they were left with arcane fright.
Hordes of the orcs rampaged through our wood,
With blood in their eyes and an evil grin,
They set the wood afire in their wake,
And howled in pleasure after every sin.
Needlessly tearing the forest green,
And ransacking every woodland soul,
The perversion of evil was in our home,
Raging and killing was their role.
With sweeping might and arcane fury,
The wizards stood proud against the horde,
The Weave crackling around their bodies,
Staring at what came across the ford.
Sigils in the air, hands in swift motion,
The learners of Art called on their gift,
To snuff the life of the gruesome orcs,
Dropping bodies ever so swift.
Lightning arcs and flames from above,
Hailed on them in droves,
Misleading paths and missiles of force,
With not an ounce of damage to any groves.
Ice so cold the orcs froze in midstep,
The mages unleashed their arcana,
Winds to topple and clouds to paralyze,
They fought for Misty’s nirvana.
The orc lieutenants tried to rally their gruesome forces,
Gathering their soldier’s with order and lie,
Our mages swiftly put a stop to that effort,
Lifting one finger and pointing, “Now, you DIE.”
Our allies burst through the brush,
Celestial blood fueling their veins,
Beasts and elementals and angels were called,
No longer held by peaceful reins.
They hunted the orcs through our woodland home,
Never stopping for a moment’s respite,
They answered the call of our wizards spell,
And fought to dawn’s light.
When the black horde was ravaged,
And the end was near,
The war came down to one lone battle,
Our warriors stepped forward showing no fear.
For they were wreathed in the Art,
By the Seldarine and Dharasha’s mages,
They stood proud and strong,
And fought for our home in the wood of ages.
Their sword skill surpassed,
The vile general was felled low,
The horde of orcs was turned back,
And chased out followed by our bow.
Our People stood tired and grim,
But proud to have turned back the tide,
The refugees were safe and our village whole,
With a smile back to the village we did ride.
You see Elders, magic is the mystery of the unknown and possibilities,
Something our cautious mages wisely nourish,
With learned experience and respectful use,
It will allow our People, and village, to flourish.
-Recited by the elf Kai'enrai during an elven gathering within the depths of the Misty Forest.