Lord of the Plague-Bertoxxulous

[Verse 1] Beneath a canopy of rotting slime, The Plaguebringer waits through endless time. In sunken vaults where fetid vapors rise, He watches Norrath through decaying eyes. [Verse 2] Within the Plane of Disease his power grows, Where stagnant blood in murky rivers flows. He wraps the realm in pestilential blight, And smothers life beneath a sickly night. [Verse 3] His creeping contagion touches flesh and bone, Claiming all living things to be his own. No potion cures the fever that he weaves, As mortal strength decays like autumn leaves. [Verse 4] The Putrid Lord commands the crypts below, Where swarms of vermin scurry to and fro. His faithful cultists chant a hollow prayer, Spreading his rot upon the poisoned air. [Verse 5] He turns the sweetest bloom to withered dust, And coats all iron blades in crumbling rust. For in decay, he finds a dark rebirth, Consuming every living thing on Earth. [Verse 6] With hunchbacked form and robes of tattered gray, He thrives as mortal bodies fade away. The agony of fever, sore, and chill Are woven to fulfill his dreadful will. [Verse 7] So sing the song of pestilence and dread, To honor him who reigns among the dead. Hail Bertoxxulous, lord of bile and stain, Whose rot shall over all of Norrath reign! [Outro Fade] [End]