The iron cold of winter’s bite,A shadow cast across the light.The raven’s wing, the wolf’s keen eye,Underneath a leaden sky.I feel the ancestors in my blood,A rising tide, a crimson flood.
(Deep, rhythmic drumming begins, mimicking a heartbeat. A low, distorted bass growl settles in.) Gav: (Low, melodic growl) Farewell to thunder... Peyton: (High, gritty rasp) Farewell to rain... Both: (Harmonizing in a guttural roar) THE NORTH IS CALLING OUR NAMES! The iron cold of winter’s bite,A shadow cast
(The music drops to a heavy, tribal percussion beat. They trade lines rapidly, building tension.) Gav: We sail for honor. Peyton: We sail for gold! Gav: For the sagas... Peyton: Yet to be told! Gav: My brother’s shadow... Peyton: Walks by my side! Both: (Screamed) WITH NOWHERE LEFT FOR THE WEAK TO HIDE! Peyton: (High, gritty rasp) Farewell to rain
Peyton (Lead) / Gav (Low Octave): VALHALLA CALLING!Through the fire and the mist! Gav (Lead) / Peyton (High Harmony): VALHALLA CALLING!By the hammer and the fist! Both: Odin, guide our blades tonight,Lead us to the eternal light!Valhalla calling!VALHALLA CALLING ME! They trade lines rapidly, building tension