The Lord of Murder shall perish
But in his death he shall spawn a score of mortal progeny
Chaos will be sown from their passing
So sayeth the wise Alaundo
The wheels of prophecy e'er turn
The chosen ones hath come
Crossroads of past, present, and future
The ones foreseen, the ones foretold
That which hath past is ne'er truly gone
History repeats, though mortals choose not to see
War and bloodshed be not new to the world
A god that once hath been may be once again.
When armies march and cities burn
The rivers wroth with tainted blood
The corpses of those born not innocent
Feed the inferno of boiling hate
Bhaal's servants deceived, five led down a false path
A hidden traitor lurks in their midst
The servant of Bhaal knows death and destruction
The face of an ally, the mask of a foe
The children of Bhaal bring death to the land
They slaughter each other to feed their father
Death and betrayal walk together
A river of tainted blood doth not cleanse.
The storm approaches, we speak no more.
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