march of empires war of lords redeem codes

The fire will send this wretched soul into oblivion

Rise through the smoke and poignant stench of deathįever dreams invade the last acrid nights Violently mounted with a hand on your throatĪ fire to send this helpless soul into oblivion Who longest for flesh and brings* terror. O’ friend and companion of night, who rejoicest in the baying of dogs and spilt blood, Lillith, Great Lillith, behold this rotting vessel, his terrible visage with outstretched arms.Ī hellish vestige of netherlandish death-cults, their blasphemies in a hundred dialects assail the sky. Grim abnormalities spill stainless lifeblood within Satan’s Babylonish court. The bounds of consciousness are torn apartĪmidst the blasphemies and the cries of Eldritch things that should be dead Within this quintessence of all damnation

Grinning march of death that is to rot us all, O’ friend and companion of night, who wanderest in the midst of the shades among tombs, who longest for blood and bringest terror, Gorgo, Mormo, thousand-faced moon…įestered by unhallowed prayers and bleeding throats, Hysteria takes hold in a hell of revelation too sudden and insidious to escape.Īmalgamations of spiritual putrescence, the blasphemies of a hundred dialects assail the sky. This latent mystery in our existence is ever present beyond the veil. In this poison cauldron where their venom spreadsĪ cosmic irony justifies the prophet’s cursed and loathsome words. Spawned from nests of disorder and violenceĬrowds of fugitives leprous and cancerous Now we have lost our peerage and our lords Why are we ever born, for the day of ruin dawns Infidel souls, captured and thrown to the fire Thousands of years plagued by religious diseaseīy their own faith our race will crumble and fall to it’s knees Pious convictions infect with spiritual blight Well are we placed here in this field of armsīlood red the steel of durandal shall flowĪs the violence of his faith makes the land into an earthly hell They built their temples on the backs of slaves Pious convictions become a spiritual blight Who pray spinelessly to god as their greed becomes our overlord The great, crawling chaos grants knowledge infernal. Pacts of spirit and flesh shall mark your wretched soul.Ībove the sands of Damascus awaits the nameless void.įor, the deathless ones to whom you’re tetheredįrom the blackest abyss, peers an ageless terror. To walk the crimson wasteland and thus return unscathed, Greatest Sorcerer who, unblinking, gazes into the blackest abyss Greatest conjurer, who through music enthralled evil from places unseen. Raised by ghouls and beings of ill portent Born and enslaved only then to be exiled in fear

March of empires war of lords redeem codes