Moon... is black tonight
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Silence... is mantling every sound
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Shadows... coming down the hills
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Fires... are burning in the clearing
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Witches... are dancing... ghosts around the pot
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Crying... praying... summoning the Witchlord
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"Witchlord, come to us, thine servants 'till the end.
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Possessed by Evil, we're trembling for thy strength".
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Windblows... shaking the treetops
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Lightning... flashing through the (clear) sky
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Thunder... frightening men asleep
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Black shapes... coming out the pot
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Witches... are bowing... boneless before the dark smoke
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Weeping... shaking... summoning the Witchlord
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"Witchlord, come to us, thine servants 'till the end.
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Possessed by Evil, we're trembling for thy strength"
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A blaze of darkness from the Reign of Black strikes the pot in the middle
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of the glade; A gust of smoke rising from the circle melts to poison as two
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horns appear; A voice of sickness from a goated helm fills the air with a
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mortal stench.
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"Kneel, my servants, I heard your sick pleas, the time has come to fight
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for your faith. EVOL, my Lord, send me to drive you, the storm of death we
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will bring on earth. Thunder, Plague, Wind, Flood, come to my request,
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Father give me strength. Rise up your weapons and follow my dark sword,
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children of darkness, bow to the Witchlord".
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|
-----------------
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The Tale Of The Witchlord
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| Evol |
