In the first age, in the first battle, when the shadows first lengthened, one stood
He chose the path of perpetual torment
In his ravenous hatred he found no peace
And with boiling blood he scoured the Umbral Plains seeking vengeance against the dark lords who had wronged him
And those that tasted the bite of his sword named him
The Doom Slayer
Tempered by the fires of hell
His iron will remained steadfast through the passage
That preys upon the weak

He set forth without pity
And he hunted the slaves of doom with barbarous cruelty
Unbreakable, incorruptible, unyielding

None could stand before the horde but The Doom Slayer
For he alone was the hell walker
They knew he would come
As he always had
As he always will
To feast on the blood of the wicked

The Doom Slayer sought to end the dominion of the dark realm
Despair spread before him, like a plague
Striking fear into the shadow dwellers
Driving them to deeper and darker pits

His power grew
Swift and unrelenting
Blinded by his fervor, the lure drew him in
The priests entombed him in the cursed sarcophagus
The mark of the doom slayer was burned upon his crypt
A warning to all of hell that the terror within must never be freed

And there he lies still
Ever more
In silent suffering.