The Ballad of the Warwing Army

Listen now and hear my tale,
I sing the Warwing Army:
Their Prophecy, they claimed had failed
And so defeat, their vic’try.

Prophecy did Seven call
to destroy the Shadow:
Brothers riven, Halfblood tall,
Bulwark, Key, and Hero.

One more called, but never found,
death his hood and cloak.
Though they searched forever ‘round,
his myst’ry ne’er they broke.

Northrend, hearth and home they called,
and cleansed it of undead.
Firm they stood when Myrkenwalled,
and slew the Bishop Red.

At Wildwood Crossroads, riddle games,
they found the lost Wayfinder.
And Seven Soldiers without names—
the Reach of Death reminder.

Was he the Seventh Prophesied?
They never pierced the myst’ry.
The Prophecy, they said, had lied,
And so defeat, their vict’ry.

The Icebound Tower fell at last,
the Prince of Frost they’d angered.
He drew them toward his fortress fast,
in Cendriane they lingered.

Now lost, beset on every side,
and burdened down with woe,
In Cendriane, a hero died:
they’d found another foe.

A vampire lord in Cendriane,
though madness claimed his soul,
He stood with Prophecy in hand
and claimed the Seventh role.

But “Unforgiven!” was their cry
They struck him down in wrath.
To his words they put the lie
and chose a different path.

Was he the Seventh Prophesied?
They never pierced the myst’ry.
The Prophecy, they said, had lied,
And so defeat, their vict’ry.

While Winter captured Summer’s Queen,
Our heroes split their party.
Dread Orcus’s Cabal Unseen
delayed them, made them tardy.

Meanwhile the Prince had sprung his trap,
To break them, ’twould suffice,
If home they ventured ’cross their map,
Find Northrend ’cased in ice.

But hark! A new tale here begun,
one rose to meet this ante!
Sparrowhawk, the Stormcrow’s Son,
now joins the Warwing Army.

Northrend’s Hero, hidden heir,
His birth in myst’ry cloaked—
The Sword of Northrend split the air
and so the Winter broke.

Was he the Seventh Prophesied?
They never pierced the myst’ry.
The Prophecy, they said, had lied,
And so defeat, their vict’ry.

He made his way to Cendriane,
With help from out of time.
At Demonsforge he rescued them,
“Your quest,” he said, “is mine.”

The Summer Queen, Tiandra fair,
and one more hero too,
Both were slain by Winter’s Heir,
he thought he claimed his due.

The two reborn, at last, recalled
The Pale Prince’s name,
“Firendor Eglantine!” they called,
and thus his bane became.

Next they traveled to Death’s Reach,
Where Orcus culled the dead,
The Raven Queen came to beseech
and promised one to wed.

Was she the Seventh Prophesied?
They never pierced the myst’ry.
The Prophecy, they said, had lied,
And so defeat, their vict’ry.

The Reach of Death, beyond their grasp,
again they nearly fell—
One locked behind them, key and hasp,
forever there to dwell.

Orcus, always far ahead,
they hurried now to find
The Raven Queen, already dead,
Her pow’r to him consigned.

The Demon Prince, his might dreamlike,
His wand was Ioun’s skull.
The dead god whispered where to strike,
And Orcus, dead, did fall.

But of the Six who drew the quest,
now but Three remained.
One gone mad, one death-obsessed,
and one the Cold had claimed.

Who was the Seventh Prophesied?
For Prophecy had never lied.
They found defeat in victory,
And birthed the Nameless Trinity.

The Ballad of the Warwing Army

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