Extremos orcos scriptos ab copiis    Septentrionis Kazh-Ran    Navigii parati erant ad solvendum    Versus Ruid-Dor sinus Elfmuth    Theatrum supremi certaminis designatum    Blasphema caterva ad litus    Ex collibus ubi appropinquant    Naves bellicae soloturae    Intus horum servi suos dominos    Nigris armant    Sanguine eorum loricis adversariorum    Defendentibus eorum    Aura corpora atra convoluta ac sagis    Eorum signa ferentibus.    Nave profecta ornata capitibus principum    Princeps remigium tempus remorum    Pulsu metitur nanorum    Qui a Roze-El ducti    Templum Eldril destruxerunt    Arcanorum artium peritissimi    Nunc cruore manant strigitu    Mille scuticarum quae eorum    Duram cutem lacerant.    Et eorum dolor, aegritudo, sudori, sanguinis    Permixtus lembum propellit    I portum argentatum quo sol    Iam lassus se conduit.    Omnia parata ad proelio sunt... tympana    Metiuntur magna itinera orcorum    Ac hominum deformum pugnae aviditate    Cupiditate sola contentionis    Ordine procedunt sub caelo cinereo onusto odiis    Sicut domini impiarum animarum       [THEY SAIL TOWARDS ELFMUTH (BEFORE WAR)]      When the last ogres were recruited    By the troops of north Kazh-Ran    The warships where readied to set towards Ruid-Dor,    Heart of Elmuth, designated as the theatre of the last battle.    A blasphemous horde, from the hills,    Goes to the coast where the warship are ready.    Inside, the servants    Arm their lords with armours    Now black for the blood of their enemies    And protecting their bodies    Wrapped by a black breeze    And mantles bringing their insignia.    Sailed the warships    Adorned by the skulls    Of the contrary princes    The scout stresses the time of the row of the prisoners dwarfs    Who destroyed Eldril's temple    Master of mysterious arts,    Who now are bleeding at the sound of thousand whips    Which tear their skin and pain and suffering;    The blood mixed with sweat pushes    The ship towards a silver sea where a tired    Sun plunged.    Everything is ready for the battle    The tympanums stress the forced march of ogres    And trolls    Eager for fighting just for pleasure.    They parade under a grey sky    Full of hatred like the Damned's Master.