The land
Once so free has been soaked red with the blood of the innocent
Cloaked in black they ride through the night
To drag the world into darkness

Nine riders will hunt tonight
With swords that they'll raise up high
Pursue the ring-bearer

From the mists of Mordor
Fell riders ride to seal your fate
In your darkest hour
No mercy will be shown by the nine

Chaos
Is set upon the land as the wraiths set to find their man
Hunt him down and break his pride
Reclaim what is rightfully mine

Rise up facing the enemy
They will strike without warning
Cut you down with no mercy

From the mists of Mordor
Fell riders ride to seal your fate
In your darkest hour
No mercy will be shown by the nine


As the smoke clears and the last sign of resistance falls, nine figures stand tall, side by side, ready to continue the hunt for the one ring. They ride hard through the night, searching for what is theirs. Any man that crosses them shall fall. For one does not come between a Nazgûl and his prey.

From the mists of Mordor
Fell riders ride to seal your fate
In your darkest hour
No mercy will be shown by the nine

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