That was when we realized our scout had not returned;
We knew he had been maimed
Black clouds came towards us with outstretched arms
Of jagged chain lightning,

Heralding doom for those who reside under its plumes of dread.
Lurking within its shadows is a forgotten army of wandering dead.
They have been told of the tales of old long before writings or runes.
Thought of as a legend; those who have seen it have long since met they're dooms.

A sick mark within the realm of the earth
Where evil consumes the lives of men.
Den of black magic
That harvests them to serve within

There are no tales spoken of how to vanquish this deadly foe.
No hope is given where there is no light
From our eyes this evil is hidden.

We can see the glow of the fire and smoke piles from below.
Hear the screams of dying men and rumbling cannons bellow.

To a post his hands and feet were bound,
There he stands in the fires all around.
Tarred & feathered in an oily gown,
Bones and ashes are all that will be found.

We hear him cry out in fear,
Oil catching fire starts to sear
His flesh as the flames burn high
We shoot him in the head so he can die!

Thunder struck the ground in front of our band
And fire whirred all around us
Our horses reared up then ran down
To the misty clearing below.

Death lay all around us as crows
Pick the last bits of flesh from bones.
The statesmen had all been slaughtered
And discarded in heaping piles left to rot.

Before we could even react
We were encircled by a horde of flesh-less ghouls.
Their screams crawled into our ears
Like parasites brutally attacking their host.

They charged at us with all their force
Our horses stumbling mid stride.
Falling heavily to the battleground below;
Blood clouds our eyes yet...

We can see the glow of the fire
Smoke piles from the fields.
The bodies of flesh-less men
Wrapping rope to our heels

Tying us to the very same post,
Our faces white as ghosts.
We knew we would be tarred & feathered
And turned into lifeless hosts

To a post our hands and feet were bound,
There we stand in the fires all around.
Tarred & feathered in an oily gown
Bones and ashes are all that will be found

We will not cry out in fear
Oil catching fire starts to sear
Our flesh as the flames burn high
Silently we await to die