He climbs above a sanguine sea,
He greets the ruddy dawn,
A fearsome fog, that crimson smog,
About His feet is drawn.

The waves wash o'er His battered shore,
And lap against the bones,
Where broken men met with defeat,
And fell from foreign thrones.

The morning light reflects His brow,
He meets the laughing gull,
It circles wide His countenance,
A wicked grinning skull.

From Deadman's Peak a man can speak,
And hears his echoes call,
For mighty Mhaldor's majesty,
Her strength for one and all.

Give Him His due, enjoy His view,
The world lies at your feet,
See Mhaldor wield Her sword, Her shield,
Her armies and Her fleet.

Come walk Her storied cobblestones,
She welcomes you within,
Come share in the camaraderie,
And meet my Evil kin.

The first of Her infernal sons,
A proud Maldaathi knight,
With men to train and blades to stain,
In war against the Light.

Borne from a million-sovereign heist,
Our Naga terrorize,
Your heavy purse will prove a curse,
Should e'er it catch their eyes.

Call on Her great Cathedral, hear!
The Congregation sings,
Of Lord Apollyon's Suffering,
The strength His wisdom brings.

And taking Heathens by the throat,
Her Ebon Fist to squeeze,
Refined, intense malevolence,
Brings weakness to its knees.

The Baelgrim Fortress calls for you,
Come leave your past behind,
Let free the strength within your soul,
That Eastern fetters bind.

There is no time to contemplate,
To dither or delay,
For when Her thralls have breached your walls,
The weak become Her prey.

I beg you, listen, hear my prayer,
Step through the open door,
You dwell with mediocrities,
Though meant for something more,

The setting sun will light your way,
Leave failure to your past,
Swear fealty, She beckons thee,
Find hope and strength at last.

Penned by my hand on the 8th of Mayan, in the year 523 AF.