I turn my head towards the sky
As the piercing mist sweeps over
The setting sun in the east stains the twilight in vermillion spatters.
An omen as the night approaches
For as the crimson rays strikes the clouds and splay the sky wide open
So too will the snow-covered plains run red with the spilt blood of my foes
I shall reign death and suffering upon all who oppose me.
I would strike them down where they stand
Their corpses heaped upon each other
The stench of death permeates
All these things I ponder.
Gruesome visages form within my mind's eye
I see all, and I see a great victory before me
As I ascend to my coveted throne
Beneath my feet crush my enemy's bones
Fear is like a disease
It spreads like wildfire among these sheep dressed as men.
They learn to fear the great axe I wield
Perpetually stained a deep ichor
Mighty it is heft with the force of thunder
Great destruction it sows.
My iron fist holds a chalice filled with their life's essence
Of it I drink deeply and my thirst is sated.
Followers of the northern star
Will quake and tremble with complete obeisance before me
I am your master now. I come.
