Shambler Slayer

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Bloodgroove

5:01

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My blood boils restless
I hunger for the kill
I trade my songs for Primal Rage
And ax for greatsword skill
There they are, the Walking Dead!
To this "Georgia," I will go
The NPCs there need our help
To slay their undead foes

Rise to the call
I must have sword-in-hand
Rage and they will fall
As I sweep across this land

"These zombies have no Controllers"
My Elven friend says so
I need no incantation
Scarring Ritual brings them low
No markings, no quarter
No masters to miss them
Laughter becomes Slaughter
As I Rage into oblivion

The Elf recites an Arcane Line
Speaks to an ancient being
Words are chosen carefully
As I'm told the Fey are keen
He summons the holy greatsword
Filthmonger is thy name
It smashes through our dwelling
Through galaxies time and planes
At last this enchanted greatsword
Is in my grasp again

And I know that I would fell them
All within the hour
Their stench it would surround me
Hot and wet and sour
The blood is caked, mine or theirs?
I've quaffed my Slayer pot
Raging and with Tunnel Vision
I cannot quell these thoughts

Rise to the call
I have my sword in-hand
Rage and they will fall
As I sweep across this land

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