The Hour of the Wolf.

[Mozrogg]

War drums echo across the land
The hour of the wolf is at hand

From dust o' Durotar to cold harsh north
From Elven foe to Bearded Dwarf

Orcish race, stand proud and tall
From Barren sun or Grommash Hall.

No more be the bloody haze
The fearsome pack lifts it's gaze

Fear ye' not when hope be faint
No longer be a demon taint.

Beset on all side no promise made
Grab yer axe honoured Red Blade.

The Aspect of death looms up ahead
But we be orcs we will not play dead

The hour of the wolf is at hand...

[Kozgugore]

Loving this one! Very nicely thought of.

[Sadok]

Very good poem! Your use of couplets kept things very succinct and to the point, and I couldn't help but think of W. B. Yeats' Second Coming in your first few lines ("Surely some revelation is at hand; Surely the Second Coming is at hand").

Loved it. Please write more.