Of the old bard’s taleNone knew save a fewHis blood forgot their originsThough his talents they retained
The world forgot the bardForgot the tales he spunYet through his descendentsThe old tales remembered
Arise, descendThe stories of ages past were toldSlowly from a desperate divisiveShades of grey coloured their story
The same story they repeatedWith only the cast changedThe bard’s memories lingered within their talentThe children could not more stop than die
His blood awakened those who sleptThose whose ancestors had lent armsFor just as their fathers mastered weaponsSo did their daughters mastered tempers
There was an order, the story saidOf companies hidden against the dark timesThose times were come nowAnd so the bard’s children went to war
Some brought hopeOthers brought despairSome brought joyOthers brought sadness
Yet each child, each descendentDid so fight the battlesAs the warriors’ children foughtA desperate war they raged
The Keepers of the Old Tales watchedThe Witches of the Dark kept counselHidden within the Shadows they watchedThe World forgot about their magic
Yet the time came soonWhen each warrior was called to battleWhen each bard was called to singWhen each descendent was called
A bard could no more stop singing than A warrior could stop fightingTheir talent they cannot denyTheir passion they cannot fight
O fear that night when the warriors are awakened O hide the day when the bards are calledFor when the drums of war are beatenThe World for us has Ended.