Enrobed in silk, agleam with light,
Bright balls displace your airy tread;
our stealther frees his arrow’s flight—
you dodge-roll, shield, and are not dead!?

You burst into a sparking glow
Upon our warrior’s broadsword drive
and block-roll through his wrecking blow—
how can it be you’re still alive?!

The battle heats, we reap AP,
our numbers swell amid the fray;
we zerg toward you with unmasked glee—
you coolly turn and bolt away.

Your ward, your warp—they make us cry:
“O damnèd sorc, lie down and die!”