Bold seafarer clad in iron, sails the northern winds, where gods whisper in the frost and tales of conquest echo through time.

Born in silence, fed on leaves, I am torn from living sleep. Worms die so kings may shine. I crossed empires soaked in blood, passed hand to hand through plague and greed. Roads were named for me, yet I never chose the journey.

A magazine with a high number of bullets. I am also used to store harmful chemicals. I can often be found in marching bands or be used to intimidate my enemies on the battlefield.

Cloaked in bridal white, I glide upon the mirror's face. My silence is a song, my neck a question's trace. I am often the subject of legends told, of transformation or of beauty brave and bold. What am I?

my name is a ballroom dance, with jazzy band usually behind it, if you follow the tempo, it goes from slow to quick, with a swingy trend. the first three refer to, a quick an sly animal, whose fur can by red like a blaze. the last four refer, to a horses nature, as it jogs via the Westerly name. which means the same as in the East. back to the first when you combine them, has its origin, back in the ragtimes of old.