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The Quell begins,

Culling of the good.

Evil leaching from the strength-

of the pure of heart!

Resist, the urge to fight

as darkness swallows light

Your blood thickens

as your bones erode to nothing.

The blade my weapon,

The instrument of death

with slight of hand and cunning speed

releaving man of breath

quenching my thirst for war

killing man and fellow whore

striking with intent

our bane shall not relent!

Heroes, Watching as fellow men decay… to nothing!

Heroes, Rotten flesh rises from the grave to their demise!

So let them rot…

Traitors earn the feast for wolves, left to decompose: the path they chose.

So let them rot…

A rat deserves the iron praise.

A pound of gold for a pound of flesh-carving with my blade!

So let them rot…

Traitors earn the feast for wolves, left to decompose: the path they chose

- To a shallow grave for heroes!

This marks the end of his bane

gargling teeth and blood,

writhing in pain

As life leaves his shell,

the corpse emits decay

Slain upon his land

his spirit rides again

Heroes, Watching as fellow men decay… to nothing!

Heroes, Rotten flesh rises from the grave...