Those who quell with the UnDead reveal to themselves many things
The dead have a tricky sense of humor
They lay in waiting, next to every cross and bend
Their tempting ways bring in weary souls
Is that the gleam of steal, or the glitter of gold?
As quickly as they came,
The soul is vanquished.
The Undead are left with dilemna;
Feast upon the corpse,
Or raise skeletons?
With every man gone,
they bolster their ranks.
One man falls in battle,
two more replace him.
The dead trick those foolish enough to heed the call of treasure.
Men foolish enough to throw their hearts away,
Become eternal slaves to their murderers.
Blood spatters,
bodies fall.
All in the favor of the UnDead.