Battle Comes

Clamoring, baying come the foes
their faces with sickening light aglow,
an evil tempest of pointed spears.
Fell the light within their eyes,
dark their form like thunderous skies,
embodiments of death and fear.

Bring forth thy challenge, dim-witted fools!
I'll see your lust for battle quickly cools!
Death waits for you neath my blade!
Though like a gathering storm you o'er me loom,
I warn you that you march unto your doom!
For this fight, this trial my arms were made!

In your lust for blood, your bitter haste,
that wantonly drives you onward, laying waste,
a dire foe there is that you have failed to see.
And though you charge in hoards unnumbered,
I raise his horn to lips and his fierce cry thunder.
In my right arm his strength shall ever be.

And when we meet in arms bitter contest,
then shall thy heads be cleaved and pierced thy breast.
Like wine that runs from press your blood will flow!
And when at last you know defeat, that bitter taste,
despair then in your loss and death's embrace!
For you have thrown yourself against too great a foe!

My sword in eagerness for blood is singing,
the call to battle in my breast is ringing!
Of your body's nectar my sword shall drinketh deep!
Yea, hear the snarling of my blade in thirst,
it longs to drink the blood of evil, the accursed!
To you will it gladly bring eternal sleep!

Charge me then, come evil ones to me!
Know when we come to face it's death you see!
My mood is stern and my temper fey!
Within my heart and eyes a fire shows it's light,
that speaketh of my Lord's unfathomed might!
With his strength in me I'll win the day!