Where the moon hides his face
and the wind smells of rain,
rides the man with no name
on the blood-dark plain.
No banner he bears,
no kin’s colours to show,
yet the fire in his eyes
makes the battle-wolves know.
He strikes in the fords,
and the rivers run red,
he burns the long spears
where the warriors bled.
The ships in the harbour
find flame in the tide,
and the gates of Dun Rath
stand broken and wide.
By feast hall or fort,
none escape from his hand,
for the Black Shield rides
where the outlaws stand.
Ask not his name,
nor the oath he has sworn,
for the storm takes the rider
and leaves only the morn.
© 2025 StormborneLore – From the Bardic Archives of Caernath
StormborneLore 