This is a carving on a stone near Drakmar. Aaron Blaire enjoys carving his poems on stones as he travels around the world. He never signs his writings.

Two were men of god,

convictions held so dear,

one a friend to fauna,

his patron not so clear.

The two, for certain, holy-

ideals and praise on high,

The third, less bound by dogma

for sure, my kind of guy.

The first swung swords with gusto,

The second a healing hand,

Number three commanded nature,

The fourth, a lady's man.

One would vanquish the undead,

his disdain for them apparent,

Declarations and holy symbol,

His righteousness inerrant.

Two of suspect lineage,

an honorable man no less,

often braving frightful odds,

To aid us in our quest.

Three shied from most discussion,

introspection more his speed,

but when obliged to raise a sword,

he more then filled the need.

Number four, of course, is myself,

This, I'm sure, you knew.

Extolling all our virtues,

that's kind of what I do.