Among ancient trees, among lakes of water full of mana

Between moss-covered peaks, hidden in the woods

The gates of thick bark like the scales of Níðhöggr

Low, thick walls of stone, rotten wood, and valuable metals

Moist pits, full of branches

A strange delicate magic fluttering through the air

In front of branches, in front of walls, pale figures with flaming eyes

Mushroom guardians rooted throughout the landscape

Without fear, without weakness, they release their spores

Forest thieves, choking to despair

No fear, no weakness, sharp halberds, war hammers

No fear, no weakness, brightly colored mushrooms and flaming eyes

Without fear, without weakness, the bodies of thieves are thrown before the gates

Delicate as flowers, fearless as a legion of mushrooms

Lifeless bodies of thieves, feast for magic fungus

No fear, no weakness, guaranteeing a sovereign peace in forests and mana lakes

Beautiful fortresses, on moss ridges

March guardians with power to take root

Guardians and their pets, hum their march

Around the walls, around the forest

Protecting a sacred good, a pure wild innocence.