A silver face above the night, Bathes Norrath in a ghostly light. The frozen moon in darkened skies, Where ancient magic never dies. The tether broke in ages past, When gods decreed the die was cast. The crystal spires of shadow gleam, A waking nightmare, haunting dream. Beneath the crust of cratered stone, The dark domains rule all alone. Where twisted creatures crawl and creep, While ancient secrets guarded sleep. The Shissar empire rose and fell, Within the citadel and cell. Their serpent kings of cruel design, Left ruins in the dark malign. The Vah Shir roam the dirty plains, Free from the tyrants and their chains. With cat-like grace and feline stride, They wear their honor with fierce pride. The Akheva in darkness hide, Where stolen souls and ghosts abide. Their hollow shells of stone and grief, Find in the shadows no relief. Across the bridge of shimmer glass, The daring mortal heroes pass. To test their mettle, face their doom, Within the pallid satellite's gloom. Katta Castellum stands so proud, Above the tempest and the cloud. A bastion of the loyal knight, Against the ever-creeping night. So gaze aloft when shadows loom, Beyond the atmosphere and gloom. The silver moon still calls the brave, From cradle to the starry grave.
