Cunning Man

An old man walks from town to town, surrounded by mystery
He’s dressed like a beggar, he smells like a pig
With peculiar eyes, but his words are clear
He rents a room at your local inn, and drinks a while at the bar
He has something to say, so listen, he’ll tell a tale of great sensation:

The first war of gods, gave birth to the multi-universe
The second war at creation of man, initiated as the master plan
The third war at the deluge of Atle-land, scattered our kin across the mighty lands

We built castles among the stars, blinded towards the code of the warrior
We are shape-shifters in eternal embodiments
always at war with the antediluvians: the giants

Soon the craze will begin, people massing in the streets
The words from the mysterious man, now in the minds of the free
Given to us by an old man, the disciple of Runelord