["The men of Brisingard rarely display a single sign of their noble ancestry; their village was once the mighty capital of men, before the first orc raids began. With the east growing increasingly perilous, the most wealthy and privileged sought a new home among the elven ruins of the west, and the poor were left behind to face the creatures of the northern Darklands with whatever means they could.
Their king, now no more than a c***ftain, still proudly sits upon the golden throne in full imperial regalia, ruling no more than a few hundred and seems more jester than King. Only one important task was left to his line by Ethil I, first king of Westmar; to safeguard the Century Horn of Mount Farnor, built in ancient times to gather all peoples of Dragonland once blewn into. And such is the only hope of the Islander and his dwarven companion, but the vain King of the East is no longer the horn's sole guardian - a foul beast, unseen by any man now lurks on the mountain top, according to local lore; a fabled savage Frost Giant"]
Deepest into the east
Where vast ridges meet the Ivory shores
Winds of the Zephyr chill the blood in frostbitten hearts
Treacherous! Furious!
Surely the mountain will bring us to fall
Lord of the winds
Let our passage be swift
Ruler of mist in this age-old ruin
King of the East
Let the trials begin
Grant me the secret for I seek the Century
Horn of Mount Farnor
As a blizzard draws near
upon the highest mountain we stand
thundering footsteps strike a fear into our hearts
Vicious thrall!
Answer our call!
Hear us, come forth and unveil who you are!
Lord of the storm
To this quest I am sworn
Ruler of mist on this age-old mountain
King of your kin
Let your trials begin!
Speak me your riddles for I seek the Century
Horn of Mount Farnor
First; the answer is clear
But dawn breaks before the second word's voiced
One final riddle strikes despair into our hearts
Queen of leaves!
Returned to me!
Surely, your words bring the giant to fall!
Lord of the bones
So a**ured of your throne
Ruler of men among thousand towers
King of your kin
Now your war will begin!
Thousands are gathering as I sound the
Century Horn of Mount Farnor
Devious!
Glorious!
Brother, I will find you wherever you are!
Their king, now no more than a c***ftain, still proudly sits upon the golden throne in full imperial regalia, ruling no more than a few hundred and seems more jester than King. Only one important task was left to his line by Ethil I, first king of Westmar; to safeguard the Century Horn of Mount Farnor, built in ancient times to gather all peoples of Dragonland once blewn into. And such is the only hope of the Islander and his dwarven companion, but the vain King of the East is no longer the horn's sole guardian - a foul beast, unseen by any man now lurks on the mountain top, according to local lore; a fabled savage Frost Giant"]
Deepest into the east
Where vast ridges meet the Ivory shores
Winds of the Zephyr chill the blood in frostbitten hearts
Treacherous! Furious!
Surely the mountain will bring us to fall
Lord of the winds
Let our passage be swift
Ruler of mist in this age-old ruin
King of the East
Let the trials begin
Grant me the secret for I seek the Century
Horn of Mount Farnor
As a blizzard draws near
upon the highest mountain we stand
thundering footsteps strike a fear into our hearts
Vicious thrall!
Answer our call!
Hear us, come forth and unveil who you are!
Lord of the storm
To this quest I am sworn
Ruler of mist on this age-old mountain
King of your kin
Let your trials begin!
Speak me your riddles for I seek the Century
Horn of Mount Farnor
First; the answer is clear
But dawn breaks before the second word's voiced
One final riddle strikes despair into our hearts
Queen of leaves!
Returned to me!
Surely, your words bring the giant to fall!
Lord of the bones
So a**ured of your throne
Ruler of men among thousand towers
King of your kin
Now your war will begin!
Thousands are gathering as I sound the
Century Horn of Mount Farnor
Devious!
Glorious!
Brother, I will find you wherever you are!