A mighty roar reverberates that makes the lesser flee
The sound of purest instinct rings from mountain's edge to sea
This deep disturbance gives a cue that sends the flocks to sky
The primal shout of triumph from a kingly beast drawn nigh
Its claws as sharp as razors and a mane of regal gold
Thick fur that keeps the reaver warm through brutal nights of cold
An unrelenting fervor for the thrill of endless game
The prey that meet their fate his way find death through he who came
Merciless efficiency defines this hunter's ways
The sum of born brutality in everything he slays
The beauty of the Lion lies in all his parts as whole
For this same fearsome creature lives in every warrior's soul


Penned by my hand on the 23rd of Sarapin, in the year 621 AF.