On Xiccarph tales are told about a maze,
Some say "a place of elfin fantasies."
When lost, the minutes slowly turn to days,
One looks on sights that cause the blood to freeze.
Witch-fires illuminate deep, eerie pools
From which the hands of dead men slowly rise.
In agony an obscene creature drools
As three suns slowly light the planet's skies.
Take care to not offend the great Maal Dweb
Lest you become a victim of his maze.
Yes, just another insect in a web
To scream for death, your final hellish days.
Tiglari, one who payed the horrid price
To save Athle, in vain, his sacrifice.