As Night pulls her velvet cloak across the ebbing sky,
The call of the loon beckons the moon as it rises high.
On The Horizon swift they come as the lonely cold wind moans,
Legion they are, come from afar, Heralds to the Lords of Bones.

Unfettered by mighty magicks cast or steel of many swords,
Forfeit your soul at Death's knoll When come the House of Lichlord!

Draped in black of shadow's deep on thundering hooves they ride,
With Scythes in hand they search the land, No where you can hide!

With ivory bones and blazing eyes their weapons rise and fall!
You can not escape their evil embrace when the undead ones come to call!

So rest your weary eyes one last time, and reap your just rewards.
In Death's Keep is the final sleep....When come the hordes of Lichlords!


Penned by my hand on the 8th of Scarlatan, in the year 318 AF.