Watch for the rotting of the great trees
For their curse shall herald the Winds of Change
The Day shall come when the wards are broken
The ruined lands shall welcome my Enemies
Whom til then are bound within their ancient home
The Lord of Vermin, The Spider God, The Seductress, The Dragon King, The Angel
My Lady shall scream through the night once more,
Her infernal steed beckoning the spirits of the Fallen

My time will draw near
The rose shall be led by the thorn
The visages of my Enemies shall be brought together, and I shall rise
Woe to Sosaria when that day comes
Glory to the Dark when that day comes
The Harvest is at hand

—–

A slight grin crossed the face of the noble as he rolled up the aged parchment. A time of change drew near. Seers, gypsies, even the simple minded masses of West Britain sensed it approaching. The time was ripe to bring the Prophecy to pass. His campaign would be a quiet murmur amongst a sea of what many would claim far more important issues.

“The rose shall be led by the thorn..,” he mumbled out loud to himself. A calm smile appeared as he realized just whom his agents would be.

With an uttering of the Recall spell, the noble departed for the bank to withdraw the retainer.