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Stories of cattle-killers

Preying on the countryside

Pulled band of keen crusaders

From city-bright

Spurred on by pleasing peasants,

Promise of gold

And love of reputation

To forest old

Torchlight on gossamer walls

Dancing on polished steel

The lust for battle flagging

Slowly to nervous heel

This shadow swallows reason

The cavern gives to black

Darkness is absolute,

There is no turning back

Down where no man should dwell

Where death is dressed in silk:

The eyes are beyond counting

The sounds unspeakable

In awe the fighters, frozen

Unblinking fear

The blades of bravest biting

Into inhuman flesh

Of skittering, unrelenting

Numbers in this foul endless nest

I, Lore-Keeper

Note, as they die,

Their silken husks

As empty as their useless pride