Gmork - Fog of war
War is coming.
The wind brings the smell of blood, the stench of rotting bodies.
Taste of burning in the mouth.
He flies to the north and south, east and west.
He brings screams of the dying, moaning and crying .
Death and madness reigns here now.
Fog of war!
Crimson haze
Woven from hatred and pain, suffering and despair.
It will change anyone, nobody stays the same.
Darkened mind.
Blinded by rage, or blinded by fear.
confidently marching to the bloodbath
Pride winners will experience later.
The wind of oblivion carry away
The taste of blood, the stench of rotting bodies
The screams of the dying
But for now, breathe in deeply
Pungent odor of fog of war.
Fog of war!