Cut the throat with rusted steel, bind the edge let blood anneal. Cross the tainted edge of night steal soul, let gangrels fight. By pale eye, and shorn soul call down the wraiths and fires. In final battle bring it all till Darkness then conspires. Mouldering bone, and dead swordhand arise and smite all things. That suckle to a mothers breast and later loves and sings. The campaign long has waited the warriors sleep at-arms the necromancer raises voice to unleash illwind charms.

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