So it was Ulric, the Heathen King who rode on a black warhorse.
The ten thousand men he led, all giants from the north..

Savages who lived for the kill, raid and plunder.
Such was their cruelty , that they spread a reign of fear.

Undefeated in many battles, they became so arrogant
that they thought they were invincible after many seasons,

Yet the worst was their king who claimed to be God,
demanding to be worshipped when he was a mortal lord..

When the Winds of Change turned against him,
he saw his good fortunes were slipping away

His mighty army succumbed to a dessert's heat.
Driven half-mad by hunger and thirst, they faced defeat

Still King Ulric refused to yield to fate's decree,
he ordered them to continue their march hastily

In a moment of rage, they rebelled against him.
They left him alone with nothing to rot for his sins

In his last breath, the king pleaded for mercy
but the souls of his victims neither forget nor forgive

Thus he was forced to face his own mortality
and the punishment for his own folly...