Shennor
In Shennor's land of ash and dust,
The undead roam with wicked lust.
Their hollow eyes, devoid of life,
Haunt the ruins with endless strife.
The air is thick with darkness deep,
The sun's light no longer to keep.
A desolate wasteland of death and fear,
Where danger lurks both far and near.
Distant ash, buried the damned,
This land now silent, and barren stand.
Its dark elegance now long subdued,
the remaining legacy, a landscape crude.
The shadowy figures loom and prowl,
Their hunger for flesh a constant howl.
In Shennor's ruins, danger never ends,
A place where life and hope suspends.
Beware, brave traveler, if you dare,
Enter at your own risk and fear.
For the dangers of Shennor's land,
Are more than mortal souls can stand.
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