Dildo of the Damned

In desert shadows, cold and old, The Tomb Kings rise from sands of gold. The Ogres stole their sacred prize— A dwarven relic rune-engraved to fertilize. Desecration in the night, Orgies echo, vile delight. Skeleton legions start their march, Liche Priest leads beneath the stars. Raise the dead— The desert calls! They want their relic from Ogre halls! But the Tyrant plots a darker way— Bones for jelly at the grand decay! Ogres cry, “We need more bones For jelly feasts on flesh and stone!” Tyrant roars, “To Khemri’s sand! The ancient dead will fill our hands!” The dildo shines—a perfect bait, To draw the Tomb Kings to their fate. Across the dunes the armies clash, Steel and bone in brutal smash. Tombs arise— Ogres feast! Ferocity breaks the undead line in the east. The Kings fall shattered, bones in piles— Ground to jelly through Ogre smiles! The party starts, the whole world comes, They eat the jelly—death becomes. Poison spreads through every hall, And one by one, the kingdoms fall. The Liche Priest grins, hands raised in might— Necromancy burning bright! Ogres, dwarves, all who died— Rise again at his command, unified. Undead tide— The world in dread! The Tomb Kings fallen, but the curse has spread! From poisoned feasts to endless night, The dead march on in eternal blight! Bones of ages, jelly of doom— The Old World swallowed by the tomb.