King Of Karak Eight Peaks - A Skarsnik song

all mentioned is owned by GW

Verse I
From tunnels black where torchlight dies,
Where echoes chew on bones,
A crown of spite, a throne of hate,
Built high on stolen stones.
No drums, no horns to warn the foe,
Just laughter, thin and mean—
For in the dark of Eight Peaks deep,
Skarsnik pulls the strings unseen.

Pre-Chorus
Hear the scuttle, hear the scrape,
Too late to turn or run—
The shadows move, the traps are sprung,
The war is already won.

Chorus
King of Karak Eight Peaks!
Crowned in spite and fear,
Skarsnik reigns where daylight breaks
And courage disappears.
By blade and trick, by knife and night,
By ambush sharp and cruel—
He rules the dark, he owns the stone,
The under-mountain’s rule!

Verse II
No headlong charge, no stupid roar,
No glory bought with blood,
He wins by starving, baiting, waiting,
Drowning hope in mud.
A whisper here, a tunnel there,
A scream, then silence deep—
The enemy never sees the blade
That cuts them in their sleep.

Pre-Chorus
Maps drawn wrong, supplies all gone,
Paths that lead to doom—
Every step you take inside
Is chosen by the gloom.

Chorus
King of Karak Eight Peaks!
Master of the crawl,
Every stone a killing field,
Every echo—call.
By knife and net, by lies and traps,
By cunning, not by might—
He wins the war before it starts,
Then laughs into the night!

Bridge
And when the blood and fear run thick,
When prey begins to flee,
A shadow lumbers, jaws agape—
Gobbla, wild and free.
Chains snap loose, the cave shakes hard,
Bones crack like kindling wood,
A living nightmare on a leash,
And Skarsnik’s very good boy.

Verse III
Dwarfs dig deep and Skaven scheme,
Greenskins fight for fame,
But all who crave Eight Peaks’ old crown
Play Skarsnik’s little game.
For every warboss who marched in proud
And swore he’d take the keep,
Now feeds the fungus, nameless still,
In tunnels dark and deep.

Pre-Chorus
You can’t fight what you can’t see,
You can’t kill what’s gone—
You can’t rule a mountain
If it’s listening the whole time long.

Final Chorus
King of Karak Eight Peaks!
Say it soft, say it slow,
For Skarsnik hears everything
And Gobbla’s hungry, you know.
By ambush, hunger, knife, and fear,
By patience cold and cruel—
He doesn’t need a shiny crown
To prove the mountain’s his to rule!

Outro
So bar the gates and light the fires,
Post guards till your eyes ache—
The mountain smiles, the shadows laugh…
And something big just woke up.