The moonnlets proudly glisten the warpaintnand spikesnthe knightsnthey standnover therenwatching in the darknare fearlessnwhile they thinknThat could benthe last beautiful night.nnBe willing to die and to killnthe swords, axes and shieldsnare shining dreadful in the moonlightnthen they raise their fists and screamntheir warcrynnFuror TeutonicusnnThe horde blows the enemiesnthe swords are drilled into the bastard´s bodiesnaxes chop off and split their headsnthe battle was wonnnThe battlefieldnwas a sea of blood and pain