The Morgue Necropolis

Laid naked and bare, Dilapidated beyond repair, Deeper within the dark bowels of ruined Ultair, Whose ruler is a Litch, A city rises from a darken phosphorous pitch of shadows and mists of unhallowed portraiture whose sights are akin to visual torture. Where evils forgotten lie in one's peripheral, perpetuating fears begotten and ethereal. Do not fret and be a fool. Lest you forget what may beguile. For what dwells here, of those curious shall lure; Creatures whose countenance spell the very essence of fear, whose residence unwillingly endure. However, so I say, you would be wise to obey, To never venture into the night, of this foul blight, not a city. Wherein darkness consumes the most radiant of light without pity.