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In life the battle burns hot with spraying and frightened eyes that see the callous hand of death which brings dead bodies, worms and flies.
Then rides that black cloak wizard after then frenzied fray.
He sees the mangled bodies, he finds the murderous brave to ressurect their fighting spirits and enliven undead swordarms, out on the warfield he builds his swarms.

"May death be ye bride!"

"Posthumous shall I misguide!"

Retrieved from your death again to live, brought back from your last breath. When worldly fates and what awaits are gauged the spells may still negate.

"May you embrace my rule! Undead you serve me bereft the choice, heard are my words arcane...

"I'm building an army! These, the recycled dead.
The strongest are chosen, to my triumph be led!

"I decide who lives and who shall die.
Buried or not, a chance you may survive.
Gnarl and writhe for me, the grandest of the lichlords!

Guider of graves...I am Velsharoon!"

In evil hearts lies reason
In genius minds lay wicked vice
And all may crave that grim obsession:
Power absolute
Cold means to gain...

"Gnarl and writhe for me,
The one they call 'The Vaunted.Undeath is a maze.
I am the skeleton key."