The thrum of war reverberated on a battle string, strum away! Silence breaks as the Fifth came to dread this day.
Sapphire Horns Adorned in jewels and steel. Their final symphony came with Nine at their heel. The War Bards fought swiftly, carried by tune, their harp strings strangled life for Rezial's boon.
Leading their army like fire cutting through a Fen. Var'Garazz has been called for again. He played their last song, sharp and cruel. For he wanted his peace by completing this duel.
Strum them away from their fathers, into their graves. Let your noise rush through homes, churches and glades.
Drown out children's voices and their mothers' pleas. Play so loudly that the dead bodies shake while they wait to be hauled into graves. This is how forcefully you should play, and how deafeningly you should fight, battle strings!
This is how unrelenting and ear-piercing your strumming must be, strings, and how harsh your mercy must be.
He had blood on his hand yet sought no more thirst. But their war strings were tightened at behest of the First. Nine would ride out, snuffing Five from the Hearth. Except for a babe whom her mother just birthed.
With one final song, the usurpers were quelled, and all that was asked was to never again, toll their bell.
Your battle strings thrum, strum away!
