Varjot

It is the time of autumn. Red eyes glare in the thick of the forest. The nocturnal host, invincible in war. In their depths of rustic Timmerian shade. The wolves growl my name. Come with hatred. The hordes attend me. Iaccept the sword of obscurity. B

I Have foreseen the new age of Satan, the forth coming reign of lord Satan. I Do this unholy task on this sacred soil. The goat must be near, spit in the face of the idols, crush the altars in the quest for the goat. The True light can only appear in

As the frost is gone. I breathe the bitter wind. And inhale the scent of spring in the breeze. Dimensions secret summoning. And beyond the rainwaters. Entrance of the brave to the other side. Depths of spirit, all embracing abyss. In my existence, so

Memories of the battle ground, spirit of ancestors in us. Purifying thunder roars, racial blood poisoning will end. Edge of my blade cuts me through the warming glow of the sun, keeping me away from the disgusting light as I stride through the swarm