Fight for the First Lands!
My dance has 42 forms. They’ll only see one.
I have but one life to give for Ionia. I must make it count.
Yup, they’re ice blades. Don’t stick your tongue to them.
You rely on your weapons too much; try letting go!
What strange power works through me, I do not know.
My blade is not only precise, but totally gnarly.
I have walked the silver plains and fished the rivers of grass. The land knows me.
They await my words… what should I tell them?
We will live on… Either in victory, or in the scars we leave on them!
Never stop learning. There’s always a form you don’t know.
They’ll know me as the last to lay down her weapons.
Remember what’s been lost. Fight for what hasn’t been.
Ours is the land of magic, and that is worth dying for.
We are the children of the First Lands, and we will not be slaves!
My blade is at your service!
These blades were whetted on the bones of tyrants!
I move to unsung melodies and unbeaten rhythms.
Each form has a name known only to the wind. At least that’s what O-ma said.
We stand on the bones of the ones who came before us. For them, we fight!
True will cannot be defeated.
Let them come! This land will be their graveyard!
Do we want to be safe? Or free? The choice is ours.