To Ride, Kill And Harvest

Commanding without royal blood
Companionship and adventure, the Sellsword's life
Founded by bastards and banished brutes
A life of gold without morale.

Wearing the colours of the highest bidder
Companionship and adventure, the Sellsword's life
Wearing armor and weaponry of the slain
A life of gold without moral.

On the eve of battle the commander speaks
You are part of the Legion of the Damned
You were denied your righteous future
Because you were born from wrong bloodlines
Or followed your instincts.

We are the supreme weapon of war, elite killers
Without conscience. We stand above royal blood
And do not distinguish between beggar and king.

We have no honour, no family, no home
We do not believe in gods except in ourselves
We live by the sword, without fear.

Slaughter our foes
Do not grant them a glorious death
Ride, kill and harvest
Into the battle we march
Without fear or compassion
Sensing fear in the hearts of our enemy
Before sundown victory will be ours.

Into the battles we march
Veterans in every field
Shifting the balance when we set food
On the battlefield
Without honour we deal death slowly.

Wearing the colours of the highest bidder
Companionship and adventure, the Sellsword's life
Wearing armor and weaponry of the slain
A life of gold without moral.

Colourless and homeless, travelling the world
The Elite of the hired
A Sellsword in the Legion of the Damned.