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In the arena

Volunteers must be slain

As a prerequisite

When an opponent has fallen

The raven receives the spoils

What do you crave?

Is it the endless consumption

Or the sensory lust

The blood drips from your mouth

Don’t let a drop of it go to waste

Your primal urge

Shown in a horrid display

Soulless victors join our ranks

Pledging their life serving my blade

Left with a husk the collector discards

When your death comes to greet you with open arms

Embrace the call

Worship your carrion lord

Myiasis

Covers the carcasses piled in the pit

Rotting down to the bone

Soulless victors show their strength

Loss of the light, Darkened to gray

Warlocks, Crusaders and Alchemists

Lurk in the sands

They died for our carrion lords

Your reward

The wraith descends from its mountainous lair

Eager to devour through cerulean fire

Devotion to the crow, leads their souls to retire from their bodies

Left pale skinned owning one desire

Servitude through war

We share in the in the reaping of this dark continent

Viciously consuming flesh and souls for the first time in centuries

Know our names

Idoric, Yzanthu

Commonly exchanged with Death when our mark appears once more

Death of the soul

Death of materialized form

Harvested with gluttony and lust

A fusion of memories the Obelisk makes

Relinquished as a product of our purpose

We all have our masters

Control is a godly virtue, one that you all possess

Inherently

Illuminance

Arrogance blended with bliss

Shrouding the truth of what is and could be

Soulless lurkers flood the gates

Ravenous hordes, they feast on our war

Glory is found, honor is earned

And legends are made by the ones who offer all to me

Know these five words

Bow to your carrion lord