Knowledge of the secret race Passed on through a lineage of holy men From the time of giants and Hogls days Through his waters passed down again Sons of the blood, march across the moor For evils sake, off to war, off to war Brothers not of blood, shiver in the cold Frostbit feet, walk the path, as did their father of old Possessors of the spirit hold what is to learn Our enemies taste our forces darkness, all their children burn From our fort we hear, from the west draw nigh Sounds of savage cries Their steel may last, but their bodies not They abide not by the signs of our times
hogls, frostbit, possessor, passed, lineage