Chants are murmured, in the darkest night
While the dog-servant whines
In agony
His master grins and gloats for a while
As the power of the Blackest Death takes
Control
The Altar is prepared
Set for one
Whispers shrivel down the tunnel, as darkness
Lurks warily
Arms chopped off
Eyes gouged out
The Master is Superior
All bow in his immense presence
Sitting upon the altar he surveys
The peasants that fall before him
He rips them apart with bare hands
For the Altar has the Power
Of Supreme Evil
