Blood of Vol obsession
Sanguine hand for control
So far removed from life
Where sentience becomes a Wight
Some dead god they call
And bless'd glory bursts forth
They linger on and for what
A Riddle in the Dark
O curs'ed stunted ones
You Wights, Ghasts and Wraiths
Waiting for Water Rituals
To ease your pain
To cleanse your fates
And why traverse these sewers
To level one again
To find the Daanvi Codex
I read as Apprentice
Dwarves, they stink they smell
And far more as the undead
It is right that Order
Evades their scrawny heads
Turian, oh Turian
Your mirror is void
Water Ritual coming soon
Your flame burning out
Undead without doubt
Smell the irony upon my skin
The stench of foul decay
To cleanse a Befouled Urn
I knew I'd see the day
The years of trial and error
At hands of Wizards past
Fallowed bones, burn'ed tomes
Achieving what I lack
Recite the Arcane Line
Vampyre I become
The Water Ritual is help
My Conjure a boon
In this Blighted Tomb