The Battle Cry of the Chalice & Glory and Honor by Tomáš Buš

23/02/2013 19:23

The Battle Cry of the Chalice

 

Humbled by your choice, loyalty I swear 

To the great Goose, his words make up my heart.

The iron cranes who burned him, shall be plucked bare,

Not one whited sepulchre shall be spared.

 

You may be poor, but in valor lies art.  

Let it ignite, emanate blinding zeal. 

Never let your fiery passion part,

Melt their steel armor, serve your revenge tart.

 

To Lucifer, they affinity feel.

Will moves the mountains, not cowards’ numbers.

In holy disguise, they pillage and steal,

They lack will, as for lies and gold they deal.

 

Disdainful conceit their line of sight blurs.

Slaughter those arrogant hordes like cattle.

Beneath their noble facade evil purrs                                                                    

But the Goose’s spirit is what your soul spurs.

 

Twisted the Word, enslaved their fellow man,

Inside their soul they solely malice nurse.

The Archfiend is the author of their plan,

Lacerate the pride of the Iron Clan.

 

Glory and Honor

 

Eternal honor Captain and glory,                      

for shielding the Chalice from Tiber’s cruel ire.  

The other side of the Goose’s story.                

Just your chorus set the Fox’s hordes afire.     

 

The Fox’s Quarter – Eagle full of pride

By your flails struck down from the sky, cravenly screeched.

Its mighty and bold wings were plucked and fried,

The Bulwark like a burning ship sank, his pride breached.

 

Flocks of Iron Beasts drowned in quagmire,

Vengeful stones twisted their beaks, buried them alive,

Their arrogant jeers proved to be dire,

In Freya’s net their souls roared, then trapped in hell’s hive.

 

The wounded Fox, suffused with anger, could only growl.

Graves awaited those who did on the chalice prowl.

Upon your life’s winter, Aurora wept,

Her current of tears engulfed the heavenly shore.

 

 Oh, Chapel’s Guardian , Sunrise’s sword,

 Patron of all martyrs, fighting the ferrous flood,  

 The Bride till your tomb, watch over you kept

Your orotund feats eclipsed the honor of Thor.

                          

Never has such a captain served the Lord.

Blessed be him, who sacrifices for truth his blood.

The one who woke the lion from his sleep,

Your graceful soul persevered in the Orphans’ song.

 

Your great legacy lay in their souls deep,

To the divine Blind Sage may the Lord’s grace belong.

Ave Captain, chalice of eternal glory.

May forever in our hearts, live your great story.

 

Photos: Katarína Koreňová

 

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