In the Mists of dread Mortuus Caligo,

Among the midst of noble, tortured thralls,

Of trysts and horrors, I hear now whispered,

The twists of ignorance have thus skippered,

Grave grievances to roam these unhallowed halls.


 

Now lord wars with lord in the Dead Mist's land.

For the point of pride, their honor has bled.

For away, slunk the sane, to black shadow

And dukes shall duel, words pointed; narrow.

Swapping words for weapons, dark blood is shed.


 

Not the first and not the last, but the worst.

I witnessed this abhorrence long ago,

But no fits of madness shall make me speak,

about fists in callous rage, blood to seek.

As hate persists in Mortuus Caligo