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Deep in the master forest of Vandriaq'iv,
Lies Terramor the great dragon of elven kin.
And a single blow from his claws can give,
Critical hits to even my level eighty paladin!
I've sent my human rogue to hunt,
For information on the mighty foe.
But even Ianoris, that little runt,
Can't find anything, though he's searched to and fro.
I've given the battle one million tries,
I've arrived with druids, swordsmen, mages too,
But every time, my entire party somehow dies,
All hitpoints lost, no matter who.
I have paladins, warriors, and swordsmen at
Levels unachievable without years of training.
In fact, my elf priestess, Sintakatt,
Has hit one-oh-two because of mana-point draining.
All the work she does on the field,
Some may think of as useless and not needed.
But honestly, the cleric powers she's revealed,
Have so far proven undefeated!
Alas, though, when the tanker dies and is put to rest,
And Terramor starts heading for the others of my merry band,
Her impossibly low hitpoints are put to the test,
And her "Highest Blessing" can no longer give a hand.
Yet, even so, today I've put together,
All of those who can still yet fight,
Including even noobs like level ten Pendarethor,
And soon we'll battle Terramor under the cover of night.
Suddenly, I'm brought back to real life.
"Dinner's ready!" comes the call from beyond the bedroom walls.
The realization I've been playing for hours stings like a knife,
And I hurry to get up, not wanting to ignore my calls.
Wearily, as I stand, I think, "Who knows what's in store?"
For as soon as I can, I'll be winning the Great Battle of Terramor.