Lirama

The crows will pick your bones clean
Never sweet the kiss of cold steel

the exultation of battle

Blades aflame with witch-fire burning
Bright swords blessed by nine king's blood
The elf-witch weaves war-spells upon us
Neath the wolf-moon's gaze we shall slake our steel

Battle Magic empowers my thews
The crows will pick your bones clean
Red-Tooth thirsts to smite and slaughter
Never sweet the kiss of cold steel

Born beneath the thrice-cursed cromlech (destined for deeds of greatness)
Three stars aligned to assauge thine newborn cries, Foretold, the hilt of
Red-Tooth awaits thine hand (kingdoms shall fall before thee!), And in the
Nine Scrolls thine death prophesized

The clarion of battle beckons me... Red-Tooth crackles with searing spectral
energy. Aye, emperors and kings shall perish beneath my blade! The head of the
Eastern Chieftan adorns my spear... I've a throne to usurp! into the thick of
the fray

This heart that pounds like a hammer
This heart that pounds so strong
This heart that pumps a great warrior's blood
This heart will pound for half as long

By all the gods... I swear the ireful edge of dwarf-forged steel shall meet
all who dare stand against me! My destiny awaits... I shall carve my path in
carnage, and inscribe my saga upon the scrolls of legendry in the spilled
blood of slaughtered kings

Carnage! And the crows shall feast upon the eyes of the
slain

The final dolmen of the Dark Moors is mysteriously missing, believed removed
thousands of years ago by troll war-bands as a trophy of battle