Following the Voice of Blood

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The white hand, proud and strong by ruling the realm of Isengard, White as consciousness of illuminated mind spirit became flesh, symbolized by the hand. That's true cleanness, being able to raise the world out of its hinges and create it new: Behold the banner's flying, it calls to join, because the white hand prevails... White Hand's Power to the realm of Isengard, White Hand's Elegance to the Kings of Isengard White Hand's Supremacy to the ancestors of middle-earth White Hand's Dominion to the end of the world...and to universe at next!!! Marching southwards, orkish battlecries in air, heavy boots crush down weakness in dust. Warriors executing inferior lifes by fireword: Submit or die. Creatures of odd... Creatures of ill... Creatures of mud... Degenerated by mixed blood! Submission, Submission, Submission To the splendid kings of Isengard, to the race born of ice and flames! White Hand's Power to the realm of Isengard, White Hand's Elegance to the Kings of Isengard White Hand's Supremacy to the ancestors of middle-earth White Hand's Dominion to the end of the world...and to universe at next!!!

Submitted by Immortal — Apr 24, 2025

Sharp thorn hurts a noble man To let him know the taste of blood. But the intruder must beware of him, Because death sleeps in every thorn. In the garden of human plants, There is a lot of hidden thorns, No one likes them, because they bring pain, Pain or truth? No matter, they hurt the same... Black thorn. Alone and proud he grows. And every creature envies him. Fear paralyses enemies. It's strong enough to make them dead. I am the thorn of Darkness. Reflection man's true nature. I came to this dying world. To celebrate upcoming end.

Submitted by Morgoth — Apr 24, 2025

When the dark clouds in the sky full of the black ravens, Announce the time of great trial. Each man takes his sword, His shield and sets out on a journey, where sounds of horns summon him. No one will spare his blood. When on the battlefield, Regent of the Gods lead us... Raise your swords brother and fight. On the horn's sound we will move. We will follow the ravens in the sky. Blood for blood! Fire for fire! Death for death! Armoured man by armoured man, They stride, step by step. Sword by sword, shield by shield, They're marching in silence... Many of them will die tomorrow, But none of them is afraid of death. When the horns and kettle-drums sound steady rows of warriors will move. Man by man, without shadow of fear Like the winged chariots of fire. Every man bears his shield. Every man holds his weapon in the hand. Ravens circulate over our heads. Tomorrow we'll feed our dogs on christian hearts. Brother! Blow the horn of war! Tomorrow's war will be watched by our Gods and forefathers And we must take revenge in their names! Over the horizon dark clouds appear. It's cold and clouds of steam hover over us. We are marching silently... We are overwhelmed in thoughts, Marching for victory... Hate and wrath burn our hearts. Our thoughts echo in the space. Into the battle we go to win... Into the battle that will determine the world's fate.

Submitted by Celtic Frost — Apr 24, 2025

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You who have become the legend! I summon you mighty warriors! Your power, honour and pride Shall encourage all of us. The same blood runs in our veins. But our brothers' minds are poisoned. Their spirit should be purified. Enemies' temples burnt to the ground... We raise the swords and start new war Against the plague of foreign Gods. Fidelity and pagan pride Will lead us to the final glory! Nothing can deafen voice of blood. Instinct decodes every lie. Strong arms will soon throw down the chains And bring the lost dignity back... Let's raise the swords forged in blood Together with forefathers' ghosts. Invisible astral power Shall turn us into cruel beasts. Immortal are the ideals for which we fight and proudly die. There is a flame of heritage, that every man has to protect. We are the last bastion of truth. Those who have never betrayed their roots. The heathen fire of our hearts Can only raise but never go out! We take an oath on our swords To raise them when it's time to fight. When alien offend our faith. And spit on forefathers' grave...

Submitted by Pestilence — Apr 24, 2025

When my spirit was roaming among the winter's fog I saw my grey brother wolf drinking my blood. My body lay on the snow, disabled, mortally wounded. I, the last of the mountain's clan. Pursued and wounded by enemies, Passed away in this place. I'm still hearing the horn sounding far away, Herds of ravens are following there. But I can't get there anymore...I am so far from my burnt home. I see the snow falling on my face, But I am not able to throw it down. I see my eyes closed And mouths congealed in pain, They will never say anything anymore... Winds bring the black clouds... Soon the thick snow will fall. Wind! Hide my dead body! I hear my persecutors are coming... I will regenerate In the shape of wolf with black bristle I will draw my fangs In the river of enemies' blood!

Submitted by Nargaroth — Apr 24, 2025

One day en eagle kidnapped him. When he was only two years old. Eagle raised him to infinite expanses And brought him to his nest. Eagle's claws were very sharp. They wounded his body hard. The blood was running plentifully. Nobody could hear his screams and call! An eagle had no children. So he was bringing meat and feeding the nipper. Why did Gods choose such a fate for him? Why didn't eagle kill this child? Winters and years passed away. An eagle taught his son to kill inexpectedly. A wolf taught his daughter to hunt and beset the victim. Nowadays their home villages are covered by ashes and trees brought to the ground. All of their families passed away. Because nobody wanted to except new belief. They fought and died in fight till the last breath. One day she retired from home. The herd of wolves appeared on the forest's border. It happened in winter and when herd felt a hunger. A wolf caught her and went into the woods. Screams and cry didn't change anything. Wolfish fangs wounded her painfully. She couldn't do anything, she was too little. She was only few years old. A wolf had no children. So he was bringing meat and feed her. Why did Gods choose such a fate for her? Why didn't wolf kill her feeling hunger? Today no christian can enter the woods... Armoured knights going for hunting never come back. Blood permeates through the earth fast. This winter wolves aren't hungry. When my spirit was walking through the forest. I met her and him. It was very cold evening and the sun was setting. They stood on the forest border. The wind was blowing through their hair... And night was falling down.

Submitted by Dahmers Fridge — Apr 24, 2025

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