Moon... is black tonight

Silence... is mantling every sound

Shadows... coming down the hills

Fires... are burning in the clearing



Witches... are dancing... ghosts around the pot

Crying... praying... summoning the Witchlord



"Witchlord, come to us, thine servants 'till the end.

Possessed by Evil, we're trembling for thy strength".



Windblows... shaking the treetops

Lightning... flashing through the (clear) sky

Thunder... frightening men asleep

Black shapes... coming out the pot



Witches... are bowing... boneless before the dark smoke

Weeping... shaking... summoning the Witchlord



"Witchlord, come to us, thine servants 'till the end.

Possessed by Evil, we're trembling for thy strength"



A blaze of darkness from the Reign of Black strikes the pot in the middle

of the glade; A gust of smoke rising from the circle melts to poison as two

horns appear; A voice of sickness from a goated helm fills the air with a

mortal stench.



"Kneel, my servants, I heard your sick pleas, the time has come to fight

for your faith. EVOL, my Lord, send me to drive you, the storm of death we

will bring on earth. Thunder, Plague, Wind, Flood, come to my request,

Father give me strength. Rise up your weapons and follow my dark sword,

children of darkness, bow to the Witchlord".