Mordekaiser- from an admirer

Dear Mordekaiser;

I don't know about you but I've been the real Lord of Death since 1983, and despite a little bit of Starscreaming on Mannifred's part, I endure. So while I appreciate your style please, go back to chillin' and rippin' it up with Ozzy and Big A and leave the whole Lord of Death to me.

and who are you, the iron man said, that I should kneel so low? Only a Lich of a southern grave, that's all the truth I know, with a crown of ice, or a ring of gold, night's kings are all the same, and my siphon or draining curse, will keep you from the lane

and so he spoke, and so he spoke, that lord of harrowing, and now the souls weep oe'r his lands, but not a grave is filled yes now the souls cry oe'r his lands, but not a grave is filled

An island of dead, a shroud of fate, the endless march endures, the horseman's charge or papal song, leads all to my embrace, when anguish sings, or graves are dug, the islands are mine to keep a kingdom fallen, to plague or vice, the silence still is calling

and so he spoke, and so he spoke, that lord of harrowing. and now the soouls weep oe'r his lands, but not a grave is filled yes now the souls cry oe'r his lands, but not a grave is filled

Sincerely,

N

PS: The Psychopomps send their regards