Three full grown men, and three half-height, Heading to Waterdeep.
And in the wake of fading light, Go forth instead of sleep.
A shout rings out from he who dares, A steel bolt whizzes past.
It goes and hits one of the mares, From wagon, they are cast.
The elven druid shoots a light, A bandit was now marked,
Enemies were at left and right, As all the arrows arched.
A halfling does his bow routine, And hits the man dead on.
A sneaky gnome, remains unseen, as battle lines are drawn.
The rogue stabs the boss in the rear, as if to scratch an itch.
He ran again, to disappear, and shouted "Fuck you, bitch!"
With half his health, and nearly beat, The fight could not be won.
The leader orders a retreat, As he began to run.
A javelin, a saving throw, severs the captain's head.
A battlecry, from high and low. And off the others fled.