Huntsman

The bitter taste of righteous blood stains the oaken lips
Spurs the vernal bones
Of primal guardians in service of the savage one
The gruesome hunt-horn drones.

Hail! Huntsman!
The forest rides tonight!
Hail! Huntsman!
Rid us of this blight!

Over archaic laughs of sport
The captives plea and wail
Some are dragged underground
To be devoured at the horrid feasts of nameless gods
To be scraps for Drathna's hounds.

Hail! Huntsman!
The forest rides tonight!
Hail! Huntsman!
Rid us of this blight!

And lo! Through the brush there came a sight terrible to behold - the stag god, accompanied by his spidery host. He who is brother to the mountains, warden of the untamed, and butcher of the fearful.

They marched across the Iron Jaw with sword and helm
Seeking fabled woodland doorways to the twilight realms
The proudest of their captains are now hunted like boars
Their banners lie in gory pools upon the forest floor.