In that black desert
beneath the pale moon
in slaughter and in murk
the dead men walk.

They haunt the dunes
in that breathless night.
They brandish their weapons
in the curse of a light.

In ghastly dry voices
like the rustling of leaves
they whisper one name
their minds remained.

This name is so old.
This name is so dark.
By all types of death
it can be marked.

The name of a Master.
The name of God.
Nagash Necromancer,
Supreme Undead Lord.