Composed by Myrddin, Chief Bard of Waterdeep
  
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   I have come from the high northern plains of the Sword Coast, upon
which the great City of Splendors borders southernmost.  There I witnessed
an awesome clash of arms which set in motion a most terrible battle.  The
allied forces of the Dark One (fear that I should ever speak his true
name!) laid seige to the city walls from the north and the east.  Terrible
monsters, undead and extraplanar creations of the Dark One charged through
the fields despoiling the very ground they passed.  It was then that I saw
through the mighty north city gates regiment upon regiment of Waterdhavian
soldiers quickly taking up their defensive positions to protect the
precious city. As they fixed their positions, I saw the elite forces of
High Lord Darksol, by his lead, charge to meet the attack. 

  The advancing cavalrymen of Lord Darksol's brigade cut the enemy lines
in half with a tremendous clash of steel upon steel.  I tell you, the
terrible cries of those demonical foul creations echoed fear into the
hearts of the bravest of warriors.  It was then, after Darksol's heroic
blitz of the monster's ranks, that I saw an even more terrifying sight
racing down to the field from Mount Waterdeep itself!  A whole slew of red
dragons led by an ancient wyrm that must've been twice as tall as the very
city gates swarmed into the thick of the fray.  Lord Darksol, undaunted by
the enormous size of the new aggressors, turned his forces to thwart the
terrible dragon threat.  The tension of the moment was coming to its
climax.  Darksol centered his lance and his war host followed his lead. 
As one the great lances bristled and centered on the dragon horde.  I tell
you, rarely do you see a warrior slay a dragon in a single blow, in this
day each of Lord Darksol's men earned themselves the right to be called a
Hero, for after the first charge there lay two dozen Red Dragon corpses
on the field.  This was but a scratch to the Great Wyrm's forces, although
a valiant attempt by the warrior of Waterdeep, it was in vain.  For the
Wyrm had already begun the counter attack, followed by a terrible roar in
which flames burst from everywhere, killing hundreds in seconds.
Unscathed, Lord Darksol turned to meet the enemy yet again, his forces
reduced to but a few Honor Guards and personal Retainers.  Alas, it was a
brave attempt but they proved no match for the mass of dragons they had
yet to kill.  Shiny Newbie dagger brandished in his hand, Darksol charged
to meet the Great Wyrm shouting the Waterdhavian battle cry, which echoed
across the battle field. The reminent of the mounted forces charged... and
then were lost in a flurry of heat and red haze.  I saw Lord Darksol go
down and could see no more of him. 

   In the meantime, the city of Waterdeep was not idle.  In seeing the
successful attack against the dragons, messengers were sent out abroad to
summon the other Lords, and High Lord Achilles himself who was on a
foreign campaign.  Little did Waterdeep know the power of the Dark One, in
this he let only one messenger leave the grounds alive, for what purpose,
even one as enlightened as myself cannot comprehend.  I wondered at to
which Lord the messenger was allowed to go.  I soon found out, a few hours
later I saw a massive force of infantry men on the horizon, waving the
standard of High Lord Achilles himself.  =/= Seeing this, the remaining
warriors on the field of battle, few as they were, were filled with
courage and hope at the site of their Lord and Protector, Achilles. 

   The forces of the High Lord Keeper of Waterdeep stormed the field with
a ear-splitting battle cry unparalleled by any army I've ever witnessed in
battle before.  Achilles himself led his men on foot, carrying his mighty
shield on his right arm, and on his left his enormous spear which surely
no mortal could wield unaided.  The Waterdhavian offensive plunged right
into the heart of the dragon plague.  The dragons, gloating in the glory
of their recent victory over High Lord Darksol, were ill prepared for the
new force arrayed aganist them. Lord Achilles, taking the lead, hurled his
mighty spear into the black heart of the vile Great Wyrm, slaying it in a
single blow.  At the site of this great feat, Achilles' men shouted praise
and, their hearts filled with renewed valour, raced to sweep away the
final dragon regiments leaving the field as a mountainous region of Dragon
carcasses

   The Dark One, most likely burning with hatred for the death of his
allies, called upon his mighty host of demons to crush the one thing he
hated most. Although the great host that Achilles commanded was the
largest seen in centuries, it was dwarfed by the size Dark One's demon
horde. Achilles' men who were well battle seasoned have faced horrors like
this before, but never in as great a number.  They were not afraid, but
they knew they faced almost certain death.  With this in mind they hurled
themselves at the enemy, greeting the Grim Reaper with cold steel. 

   Many good men died at the hands of these abominations, but ten times as
many demons fell to a spear or sword of a courageous warrior. Fierce blows
rang across the land, screams of death, of victory, of a terrible defeat
were all that the citizens of Waterdeep could hear.  The men of Achilles'
splendid army laid vanquished, only the High Lord himself remained
carrying on the fight.  Demon after demon he slew with his most powerful
spear, crafted for him by the gods themselves.  Finally, the demons
brought Achilles to his last wind.  It seemed almost certain that the
god-like Lord of Waterdeep, the last hope, was about to fall.  It was then
that from the chaos of battle came forth the rejuvenated figure of
Darksol, the mighty High Lord Guardian of the City of Splendors.  Lord
Darksol, with his indestructable dagger spinning in hand cut the demon
ranks through as if they were butter.  Darksol, who moved like
quicksilver, never seemed to stay in one place for long but just long
enough to sever a deformed head or pierce a blackened heart, heroically
rescued Achilles from his doom. Seeing his brother back from the dead,
Achilles was renewed with Strength, and regrouped with Lord Darksol for
the final charge. 

  Side by side, armor covered with blood of their own and the black blood
of the demons which ate at their steel like acid.  Hair singed from the
hot breath of the Wyrm and weapons gleaming in the sunlight Lord Achilles
and Darksol turned to meet the enemy undaunted, unflinching with hearts
full of courage and eyes filled with rage but yet unafraid, charged and
berserked their way to the Dark One himself.  The Dark One was no fool,
and what he saw was Death itself flying towards him.  Yet determined to
finish his task, he called upon all the forces of evil to aid him in what
would be surely his most greatest hour.  The evil came to his summons and
took form as a terrible demon spawn with the strength of an immortal. 
Aiding the already potent evil, he added his strength to that of the spawn
and sent it towards the source of his fear.  Perhaps another day, if
Achilles and Darksol were not already weakened from the earlier battle
that took place, they could have defeated this new enemy.  What can be
said?  As one, Achilles and Darksol faced this spawn and there was a
terrible clash.  When the air cleared their lie Achilles and Darksol
mortally wounded and the evil Spawn alongside them.  Seeing these great
warriors go down the demon horde made ready to leap on them and tear them
to shreds, yet all of the sudden the clouds broke in one place and a
single beam of light shone down on Lord Achilles and Darksol.  A voice
boomed from the heavens, powerful and all commanding "The High Lords of
Waterdeep shall not fall fate to such a brutal death as to be torn apart
by demons, such a fate is not worthy of great heros as these"  In this,
Tempus Lord of Battles, banished the Demon Horde along with its wicked
ruler to the netherworlds. 

   Seeing this, I shouted for joy and ran down to the site of the battle
hoping to see Achilles and Darksol fully restored.  When I reached the
place where they fell all that remained were their weapons and Achilles'
shield.  That and nothing else.  As I bent down to retrieve the weapons
and bring them to the City for safekeeping, I turned the shield over and
noticed an inscription which was surely not there before.  Curious, I read
it, and this is what it said: 

"Lord Darksol and Lord Achilles are gone from this world's realm.  I, Tempus
have spoken with them and they ask that you honor their deaths and grant
them these wishes:

Do not try and recreate the clan of Waterdeep, as it was a Powerful clan
due to the hard work of these the Lords, and never can be matched.  In
doing this you would mock the memory of these heros, and their spirits
would in turn haunt you.  

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This is what I have seen.  Although you may wonder what has happened to
the Dark One and his great host? It is rumored he has allied himself
with another evil deity, the God of Murder and Lies, Bane himself, 
and may yet return someday to reclaim what he had lost today.  

I, Myrddin, Chief Bard to the Lords of Waterdeep write this, and I will
write no more.