Lycanthropy: yonder through ice storms

On the iceful cliffs of December,
in the blistering mistwind,
upon a golden horizon, over the mountains.
Through iced streams
and rivers that flow through the woods,
it was the land and home of our siblings' union.

No defeat over us thus far.
Their men had come yonder through (our icescapes).

"...And then would come the men of the lamb.
And aligned were we, the enemies of the lamb.
We stood in midevening in fields of frost
and as country dwellers, there would be no conversion to a kingdom of liars.
We stood on forever's edge and howled the tune of the ancient ones and of Pagan Pride!"

"Prepare! Now warriors of union!
The holy men have come to icescapes!
Take shelter in the midst of trees and frozen froth!
For soon the angels will come to take their simpletons back to the kingdom of light!"

They came in numbers
and slaughtered the members of our union.
But soon would they feel the tearing
enough to turn them white!

We rose as defenders of the clans
and in rage vowed to avenge the deaths.
Our tread was through streams and iced falls,
and the scent of theirs trails on our would see the way.

Prepared through blizzards and IceStorms
and through the midst of our Pagan icescapes.
The heard the numb of our frostbitten voices
and soon would they turn for what was to come.

Their bodies served as Winterseeds in our freezing blizzard holocaust!
Holy men through Wolferian storms... return to the shrine of the weak!
Never again could they dare to strike... we killed in the snow of Pagan Pride!
Our hatred was enough to serve as our weapon, vengeance would be ours!
We circled in our companies and a thousand godful men did we rip apart!