Here comes the Duskbringer

He's running through woods so black, a loyal servant of the anointed Light, shivers running down his back, he's running for his life.
He came with hope of glory high, the Scourge has to be cleansed, he thought that he could make them kneel to the power of the Light.
Tears are running down his cheeks as he sobbing realize that in this land the Light is weak and today he's going to die.

_°_°_°_°_°_

He stumbles out onto an open field where an old oak tree grows, in the branches hang men of piety, dressed in Argent robes.
His knees refuse to carry him on, terror shines in his eyes, his faith in the Light is almost gone, he's been left here to die.
Below the dead he says his prayers to the Light he thought was alive, when he hears a calm voice say "Shut him up and hang him high".
Turning around, a host of undead in their middle a horrid sight. Cold gazing eyes, armor clad, the vilest of all knights.
"You can fight his rule, the Light will save you" "It's not that I can't, it's that I don't want" is the spat back reply.

_°_°_°_°_°_

As his breath leaves his eyes open wide, a cold wind comes from beyond, his eyes on the death knight below.
Wolves howl filling his heart with fear and he sees ravens fly by, the cackling of geists and ranting of ghouls the song of the day he dies.
From down below a foul hand extends, cutting out forever his air and just before the Argent dies, he knows the King is still alive!

[Freely adapted from "The sound of eight hooves" - Amon Amarth]