Through the mist of lonely mountains deep,
Where danger waits in demons keep.
We'll venture forth, towards the north,
Facing shadows within the steep.
Up on the ridge, ferocious beasts attack,
With flailing sword, we push them back.
At birth of night, we'll win the fight,
Triumph finds us there in the black.
Wind and snow thrash over the icy peak,
As we press on, but tired and weak.
The journey long, our spirits strong,
Ancient treasure is what we seek.
Three weeks on, in the heart of the burning core,
Restless muse of travelers lore.
And up ahead, the fire spreads,
With brilliant and thunderous roar.
As we search for long forgotten gold,
Through rivers bleak and castles old.
We won't abate or hesitate,
To seize the prize that's been foretold.
In the fog, we walk through the swamp land blind,
All pain and fear, left far behind.
Our desperate chore, the golden door,
Out there waiting for us to find.
And on that day, when the gold shines in our hands,
we'll be warriors and kings of man.
A victory earned, the shadows burned,
A day of reckoning for centuries planned.