The endless war of worlds called upon;
They waited dauntless for the setting sun.
The Riders of storm, the Hunters of night;
The faceless men will now chase and fight
/
Bringing his antlered helm and wooden mask;
Why does he march to battle, one might ask?
Gwyn ap Nudd beckons and woefully cries;
He fights without abandon for he never dies.
/
Glass armor and long bow he brought,
He led the army for the victory he sought.
Legions upon legions of men and beast,
Souls of the dead he gathered for a feast.
/
To the Annwn, the souls he carried;
In the barren land, life he buried.
The soul moves on and becomes a tree;
Trapped in Annwn, never to be free.
/
Aside from his sworn duty to harvest the dead;
The Heart of the Wild Hunt caused the war he led.
The black masked elf gat
