Lionheart! We beseech thee, return to us, thy lost children.
We stumble in the night of forgotten knowledge, as sheep without a shepherd.
Our pleas are lost in the calling, as stars falling in the darkness.
Our families weep and waste away, our lights grow dim, our vision fails us.
Lionheart! We beseech thee, return to us, thy evanescent children.
We grow old, and none replace us.
We are brought low, and none elevate us.
We find eternal slumber, and none awaken us.
Lionheart! We beseech thee, return to us, thy dying children.
The light of madness struck us, and we know not why.
We beg of thee, enlighten our minds and hearts, that we might climb from this quiet tomb.
We crouch at the foot of the mountains, unable to return to the heights we once dwelt upon.
Lionheart! Hear us, thy dwindling children!
What madness is this, to find ourselves ruined, wandering in twilight?
We fade from the face of the Earth, as the sun falls below the horizon.
Grant us thy guidance, that we might push back the darkness, that we might reclaim our former glories, and once again flourish under the sun.
Wordmongers' Masque: Poets' Ball