Prince of Terror

On blackened shores of Deismaar Where dying gods split earth and star, Azrai shattered — shadow torn, From broken divinity, Strife was born. Not mercy. Not grace. But wrath incarnate Took His place. From ruin’s breath, from hatred’s spark, Rose Belinik — red and dark. We were tribes in winter’s hand, Starved and hunted through the land. Soft with doubt and bound by fear, Waiting for a god to hear. He did not soothe. He did not save. He did not shield us from the grave. He taught the law no storm denies: The weak must fall — the strong must rise. BELINIK! LORD OF STRIFE! Crown us in terror! Arm us for life! BELINIK! PRINCE OF WAR! Strength is the law — and nothing more! Destroy or be destroyed. Dominate or fall. Through blood and fear He rules us all. Peace is rot within the bone. Trust is weakness overthrown. Mercy dulls the sharpened blade. Compromise is how kings fade. Fear is power. Power reigns. Rule through iron. Break all chains. Let rivals tear each other apart — Strife is wisdom. Terror is art. Hate feeds Him. Jealousy burns. Through rage and cruelty His favor turns. White robes clean at break of day — Red by dusk where victims lay. Blood on stone and hearts in flame, Strength devoured in Belinik’s name. Before the battle, take the heart. Claim his courage. Claim his part. Let his last breath fuel your cry — Win in glory — or gladly die. No peace. No pardon. No retreat. Crush the broken beneath your feet. No law but strength. No crown but fear. The strong alone are worthy here. BELINIK! GOD OF MIGHT! Forge our weakness into fight! BELINIK! HEAR THIS CALL! Through strife we rise — through peace we fall! Chaos refines us. Violence breeds. Brutality answers The truest needs. The weak are ash. The strong endure. In terror’s name — Our rule is sure.