The Iron Warlord's Call

Harken, ye walls of stone, ye lords of gilded halls.

The warlord speaks with iron breast, his voice like thunder calls. Barbarian,

you named him, beast without a crown. Yet when the dark tide rises,

it is he who will not drown. From valley cold to mountain pass,

his banners carved their path. The cities mocked and bowed in fear before his

iron wrath. 8,000 steeds became tenfold, the earth beneath them groaned.

Each step a drum, each vow a sword, until the host

had grown. Raise the hammers! Hear the drums! The iron-chested warlord comes.