WFRP Dooms


The withering eye is thy reward, and thy end.
The flashing blade shalt carve thy end.
Absence makes thy heart grow weaker.
Thou shalt feed the barren soil with thy blood.
Ulric's cold hand shall lead thee to Morr.
A greased goat is safer than keeping secrets.
A stalled blade bringeth a sharp end.
A beast of brass bellows for thee.
The sword shalt bring no justice, only suffering.
Workings of the Witchling Star are thy doom.