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There once lived a terrible necromancer,
Who wasn't friends with rhyme.
When he learned to be evil,
He became addicted to witchcraft,
And he didn't give a damn about rhyme.
The paladins are unhappy.
Come on, guys, how is this possible?!
If there's someone like that around,
Who recites such strange verses,
How can we, the paladins, be?
We need to protect the land!
Yes, I'm a bad poet, but Mortulus can handle it!