Out of the East came a plague wind;
Out of the West came fire.
Out of the North came a holy man;
And out of the Heavens, a Liar.
And from the east wind we grew weary,
and laid down our heads to rest.
And on the western fires we smothered
Our faces blackened in smoke.
And the man from the north found us dreaming,
and sang us soft words in our dream,
And we desired above all to be like him,
To struggle no more with life;
But out of the world came a fire
that turned our ash to desire.
Out of the North came Wisdom,
and out of the Sky came Hate.
Out of the Snow came Virtue,
and out of the Sun came Strength.
The wise man bows to fortune,
But the warrior spat on fate.
The Northman was born to early,
and the Heaven-born came too late.
The Dreamer taught us of wisdom,
bright truths and subtle lies;
The Seeker sought us in battle
and bade us open our eyes.
The Sinner brought us to peace–
one moment of peace in our lives–
The Slayer warned us of winter,
dark winter approaching us nigh.
The Warrior spat on destiny, as the prideful always do;
The Warrior struggled against the gale, and cursed the pitiless wind;
But the Wise Man sang to the tempest the song that it well knew.
The wild winds crushed the warrior; but they flayed the wise one bare.
Riders of Skaith 