["The men of Brisingard rarely display a single sign of their noble ancestry; their village was once the mighty capital of men, before the first orc raids began. With the east growing increasingly perilous, the most wealthy and privileged sought a new home among the elven ruins of the west, and the poor were left behind to face the creatures of the northern Darklands with whatever means they could.
Their king, now no more than a chieftain, still proudly sits upon the golden throne in full imperial regalia, ruling no more than a few hundred and seems more jester than King. Only one important task was left to his line by Ethil I, first king of Westmar; to safeguard the Century Horn of Mount Farnor, built in ancient times to gather all peoples of Dragonland once blewn into. And such is the only hope of the Islander and his dwarven companion, but the vain King of the East is no longer the horn's sole guardian - a foul beast, unseen by any man now lurks on the mountain top, according to local lore; a fabled savage Frost Giant"]
Deepest into the east
Where vast ridges meet the Ivory shores
Winds of the Zephyr chill the blood in frostbitten hearts
Treacherous! Furious!
Surely the mountain will bring us to fall
Lord of the winds
Let our passage be swift
Ruler of mist in this age-old ruin
King of the East
Let the trials begin
Grant me the secret for I seek the Century
Horn of Mount Farnor
As a blizzard draws near
upon the highest mountain we stand
thundering footsteps strike a fear into our hearts