Stormcliff Legends

(aaaaahhh) Under the weight

of the iron-gray skies,

Where the white crests of the ocean arise.

Stone and the storm wind are singing of old,

Of high timbered arches and tables of gold.

Raise

the heavy

shields on high,

Let the silver

trumpets cry! (hooo-ahhh)

Roar,

wild sea,

against

the mountain wall! Echo,

grand wind, through the golden

hall! Ancestral spirits lead us home!

Carved on the pillars of ancient design,

Legends are woven in copper and pine.

Keepers of thunder and masters of light,

We stand on the threshold

of infinite night.

Roar, wild sea,

against the mountain wall!

Echo,

grand wind, through the golden hall!

Ancestral spirits lead us home!

Echoing, echoing,

home...