Word has reached their hateful ears,
The beasts now know that you are here.
There is no time to spare for tears,
For it's your blood they want to smear.
Magicker... Magicker...

Hear the drums are pounding,
The march of Knights of Lore.
Hear the bells are tolling,
Tonight they march to war.

And as the snow and sand now assemble,
The world skips a beat.
Their hate of magick makes some tremble,
But Kinsarmar is not yet defeat.
Magicker... Magicker...

The sheen of crystals and the creaking crack,
As reality is broken.
Upon the call, the mages will attack,
When fire, earth, air and water have awoken.

They fear what which they cannot understand,
And so seek to destroy it.
Upon their wolves they charge into Kinsarmar the Grand,
Their desert claymores raging in signal to fight or to submit.
Magicker... Magicker...

Hear the lilting strum of a sitar,
The word-weavings of the Bards.
Hear the voice of Kinsarmar,
The song of Artisan Guards.

We fought them brave,
We fought them strong,
We fought to save
What they wrongly said was wrong.
Magicker... Magicker...

But O', glorious Kinsarmar!
Forever in our heart those whom we lost to them-
The brave who ventured too far.
And though the glory will emblem,
So will a battle scar.
We thank the brave, loyal ones.
Who stood tall for Kinsarmar.
And though we may have been left in a moonless night,
There'll always be a shining star.

We shall follow the shining star.
We shall follow Kinsarmar.


In memory of those who fell.
Layla, The Midnight Song
Proud citzen of Glorious Kinsarmar.

Penned by my hand on the 11th of Halitus, in the year 481 AD.