An undead creature of the underworld sent to the living by the Keeper to do his bidding.
The Screelings are loose and the Keeper
may win.
His assassins have come to rip off your skin.
Golden eyes will see you if you try to run.
The screelings will get you and laugh like it's fun.
Walk away slow or they'll tear you apart,
and laugh all day
long as they rip out your heart.
Golden eyes will see you if you try to stand still.
The screelings will get you, for the Keeper they
kill.
Hack 'em up, chop 'em up, cut 'em to bits,
or else they will get you while laughing in fits.
If the screelings don't get you the Keeper will try,
to reach out and touch you, your skin he will fry.
Your mind he will flail, your
soul he will take.
You'll sleep with the dead, for
life you'll forsake.
You'll
die with the Keeper till the end of time.
He hates that you live, your
life is the crime.
The screelings might get you, it says so in text.
If screelings don't get you the Keeper is next,
lest he who's born true can fight for
life's bond.
And that one is marked; he's the pebble in the pond.
