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Through the stargate from the most absolute darkness

The lord of the throne of skulls appeared

Master of the lonely souls fallen in battle.

Guardian of the flaming impious doors

Where dark aureoles used to draw shapes of dead warriors.

Restless shadows that drew shapes mournful

Never ending howls mystified the castle

Warriors that full of hate and revenge

Awaited the sound of the horn and the drums

Spirits full of pain and torture wandered in the silent night waiting for the call of the warlord.

Spectres that reflected the hatred and suffering from he ancient battles

Where the storms of death razed entire villages before blood staining the forests of devastation