“Come heroes one! Come heroes all! To aid our suffering souls!
The waves they break upon the shore, the serpent wakes below!
We need the best, but I attest… They’ve all but come and gone.
Their gear is got, their battles fought. So now your lot is drawn.

The simple white mage lalafell who heals the best he can.
A sprout affixed above his hood, green weapon in his hand.
A scholar fighting for his life, but tasked to raise the dead,
A ninja dancing toe to toe, with rabbit on his head.

A bard who knows a single song, but sings with great intent,
A black mage slinging fire and ice… until their mana’s spent.
A grim-faced, veteran Paladin picked to lead the band.
Through all the wipes and miss-steps, he stood with sword in hand.

A warrior screaming top of lungs, he’s in it for the fun!
While ignoring all the Sahagin killing everyone.
And last the skittish dragoon, ready with a quip.
His words as sharp as steel as he jumps right off the ship.

Perhaps you’re not the heroes that we wove into our songs,
And maybe there are those that say you simply don’t belong.
But every time your group would fall. You’d push to rise again.
Every time you’d want to stop, you’d turn to see a friend.

And in the end, you did succeed, because you were a team.
And when you worked together, you were more than what you seem.
So rejoice great heroes of Eorzea, The Serpent hath been sunk!
Now roll upon your greatest prize…

The weapon of a monk."

Signed,

A C-Tier Raider.