The Serpent's Lair - Vale of Pnath

Flocks of carrion, fat and foul, dispose of the dead, obey the mort

Machinations falling in place

Closer to my purpose

His heartbeat rumbles through stone and moss, cascading fear upon my regiment

He can see through our eyes, yet he will not see his demise

An ophidian god, its blood the cure for death

One single drought from its veins bestows immortal breath

Descend into the mouth of hell as one

Granite turns to onyx, darker than a lifeless star

The air is dense with sulphur

The walls they pulse with life, an unknown blight stricken by darkness

We wield thy kin as trophies to put fear in his heart, for it will be removed

Enter his lair

Cadavers decorate his vault, trophies of his own

A hideous roar brings down earth and stone

Crushed and added to his collection

A feverish nightmare cast in shadow

Eyes glow with corruption

Look into our minds

Reflections of scorn

Lurking beneath the earth, buried within these walls, confined and forgotten

An ophidian god, it’s blood the cure for death

One single drought from it’s veins bestows immortal breath

Descend into the mouth of hell as one

Granite turns to onyx, darker than a lifeless star

The air is dense with sulphur

The walls they pulse with life, an unknown blight stricken by darkness

We wield thy kin as trophies to put fear in his heart, for it will be removed

Yet he will not see his demise