Rites of Supremacy
Rites of supremacy Between the night's shadows and the day's light The black horsemen ride to their home. Glory Celtiberia, your honour is immortal! The union of lands forged legends that Awake admiration and fear between their enemies. It tells the custom of cut the head to the conquered For hang it in the horse's necks. And then they embalm the heads with cedar oil And carefully keep them for show to the visitors with pride. They proudly recite the deeds of their ancestors and they proclaim with their own courage, ridiculing to their opponents and depriving them of their war spirit. They celebrate the courses of changes... Birth, death and renewal. Sacred are the forest of this land and sacred is the sap that crosses them. Our horses carry the cut heads of our enemies, rites of supremacy. Salutes of joy cross the village, ties of blood return to be united. Popular songs are intoned in honour of the conquerors. Sacred are the forest of this land as the song and spirits that cross them. Songs of fire and steel It can't exist anything stronger
Submitted by BloodShrine — Apr 23, 2025
Astapa's ashes Celtiberian citadel, overnight surrounded by the enemy. Judged and condemned by Marcius' armies, the armies of Rome. Condemned for being loyal to their traditions, their culture and their blood. Mountains of gold and silver, mountains of women and children rose in the middle of the town. They elected to die before to fall in the invader's dominion and to live without honour. Fifty warriors with a horrible destiny were entrusted to guard them. The unjust battle marched on. The invader's supremacy weakens by the Celtiberian anger. Death came over the warriors, a prideful death. Rivers of blood flew through flames and wealth. Astapa was burning. Flames of honour, collective suicide, ashes of a great town which layer under the live coals. They decided to die with honour, neither to live like slaves. No valuable object reached the enemy's bloody hands. They only managed to decrease their army. Hundreds of romans died, many before the armoured resistance, the rest under the flames of their avarice. The wasteful blood feeds since centuries our thirst for revenge and fate. Marcius wins the battle but he lost much more between the strong walls of Astapa.
Submitted by Warbringer — Apr 23, 2025
Berserker's blood Born in the mountain, among oaks and birches. Bred by the violence, grown by the sword. Fury possesses my body, awaiting the great day. Lord and owner of the astuteness, I wear wolf's skin, Because through my veins runs berserker's blood. With my brothers I advance through the enemies lines, Colouring in red the invader's chest. Marked by the sword's law, under the protector glance of the gods. Born in plenitude with nature, between rivers and hills. Signed by destiny, bred amongst weapons. Revenge fills my being, awaiting the great day. Lord and owner of strength, I wear bear's skin, because through my veins runs berserker's blood. Lord and owner of destiny, I wear deer's horns, because through my veins runs berserker's blood. Born in harmony with nature, among bears and wolves. Marked by their claws, grown by the animal instinct. Vengeance fills my being, awaiting the great day. With my brothers I give our justice, colouring in red the enemy's land. Spotting with blood the sword's edge, under the protective glance of the gods
Submitted by Immortal — Apr 23, 2025
This track is instrumental.
Gaze at the sky You who saw how our ancestors fought for their lands, Faithful witness of battles full of honour. You who saw how our parents died for their believes, And how oppression took form. You will now see the new pagan dawn, the new dawn of our land. Fountain of life, you who embrace Iberia. You who fertilize our mother earth with your hair. You saw the cruel history of our race, the vain attempt of destroying our blood. The wolf cries your absence, as your hundred brothers watch us from above. Brave warrior, gaze at the sky, and offer your weapons to his blinding brilliance. Brave warrior, gaze at the sky, and dazzle with his majesty. Your trip marks days and nights. Forever eternal ray of light. Never stopped, always moving
Submitted by Corpse Grinder — Apr 23, 2025
Blood of the gods. The stars guide us, hands that follow united in the time from fathers to sons an only race, our village. An Iberian lance goes through whole Hibernia. Leanage of great warriors strong nobility as iron blood of great gods a cult to their traditions. Forged in the plains and forests, in the mountains and valleys home of myths and legends. Every man, a destiny invincible pride. Our edges marked with the blood, the great day has come. Our screams and hymns will deafen to any enemy. Today black banners fill the battlefields. Touched by the Lugos’ wisdom his ravens guide us in the battle. Aulos and drums sacred canticles of war. Death is a honour in the Celtiberian land. The tour through the centuries, we’ll never forget our roots. Heroes against the empire, the long quest of a dream . Hear the past and feel his power, it's has the key toward immortality. Under the megalithism that saw to born us, homage: blood and honour. Treason is a dammed word, a word that provokes anger and dread among clans; of her that nothing escapes because don't have return and that pay with the life an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.
Submitted by Iron_Wraith — Apr 23, 2025
Journey to Eternity Today my hour has arrived. Many of us were who fall in this lengthy war. I honoured to my deceased, I gave thanks to the elements and fought by my gods. I saw to fall friends and I splitted the abdomen of my enemies. I showed respect for the stages and rites which were showed me, and a great tree was burning at the long of time. I opened the circle time and time again and it will follow opened in the eternity this way
Submitted by BloodShrine — Apr 23, 2025