Luyện nghe bài hát The Splendour Of A Thousand Swords

ALTARUS: Gaze deep into the mists with spirit-eyes, Xerxes... look far, and tell me
you see.
XERXES: I see a land far to the north... a empire of dark endless moors and snow-
crowned mountains... a land of brooding and warrior-kings who hail to grim gods.
ALTARUS: Look well, Xerxes, for enlightenment within the fog-swathed vales of
Hyperborea...
The King's
By the onyx of my forefathers, the air is churning with auguries of dethronement...
Impending thus prophesized!
In a I was bade ride the argent-eyed unicorn to the Ring of Stones...
There a torrent of viscid assailed me, as pipes and horns sang the clarion of my
dissolution...
And the usurpation of my ancient throne.
Assassins stalk the nighted halls of my palace... poisoned blades and chalices
me.
I for a balm, but my thirst was slaked by an envenomed draught.
My swordarm shackled by tendrils of sloth... by the chasmed gloom...
Borne wings of labyrinthine dread... I awaken!
I shall seek the of the sorcerer, keeper of the ancient scrolls of wisdom, and the
of Power...
The of the Sorcerer:
My liege, great and regal king... the disclose their secrets... you are destined to
wield a great dark power. Drink deep of the potions of the apothecary, for upon now I
a shard of the mystic Crystal of Mera... sacred artefact of the Atlantean mages,
won in battle by our legions. My liege, the Crystal of Mera shall unveil the lurking
in thy most fever-haunted dreams...
The Voice of the
The land awash with blood, and viscera torn forth from the sundered dead...
Gorge the earth with flesh with the claw and fang of war... rent open the
maws of worms...
The
The Crystal illumines secrets, the truth is known... a dire and ancient threat is ranged
me.
Hearken, the clarion is the winds, now the call to arms is upon us all,
Grim warriors, take up thy spears and hone thy swords.
Archers, string thy bows, knights, saddle the steeds of war,
The glory of battle is nigh at last, our banner shall fly day in victory!
My warriors, a legacy shall this day be by our blades, decreed by the gods,
by the blood of vanquished foes. Our destiny beckons...
Lord Angsaar, Liege of Chaos:
Come, great king of Hyperboria, march me with your splendid legions and
shimmering swords. I, the Bane of the Atlantean Kings, the Scourge of Lemuria,
of the of Ultima Thule, shall Crush you! I shall visit a thousand plagues upon
your realm, and wreak havoc and bloody carnage until I have your throne... and
soul!
ALTARUS: And thus, flanked by the splendour of azure banners, a army marched
forth from the great walls of the Imperial of Hyperborea, and at the forefront of the
mighty legions, an ebon war-stallion, rode the king, sunlight glinting upon his
splendid armour... compelled by dreams, and guided by the of Mera...
XERXES: Where? did the king's path take him?
ALTARUS: The king was compelled to lead his to the shadow-haunted Mountains
of the Dead, a grim and brooding place steeped in dark and legendry. Alone he
rode the gaping maw of a huge cave hewn into the side of the tallest mountain
countless ages past by unknown hands. For three full and nights he did not emerge
from the cave... until, at last, he rode from the eldritch mountain once more, a terrible
knowledge shadowed in his icy eyes, and bearing in his gauntleted fist a huge
sword, a magnificent ebon blade no human blacksmith ever forged. Fearsome
sorcerous power crackled the yard of black steel, dancing upon its searingly honed,
glyph-scored blade... and its bejewelled, hilt did whisper arcane secrets to
the king in a strange, tongue.
XERXES: But master, what powers did this blade possess? secrets did it hold?
Many centuries ago, before even were waged the Great Wars between the
ancient kingdoms of Atlantis and Hyperborea, Angsaar did rise from his charnel-tomb
and do battle with a powerful immortal warrior-shaman over the of the elder
Crystals of Mera, mystic gems of magical potency. Angsaar, his power
swelled by forces from the vast Darkness, did smite his foe to the brink of
destruction... but, with his fading sorceries, the immortal transferred his life-
into his great black sword, and scattered the magic crystals across the galaxy,
leaving Angsaar with a hollow victory and forcing him to return more to his dark
Chamber of Slumber. The was lost for centuries, as were the crystals, until the one
gem to remain on this world was discovered deep beneath the seas by an
Atlantean wizard. And the sword... legends spoke of how its final resting place
would be known by the sorceries of the last crystal only when the blade's power
would once again ne needed to battle the Chaos-liege. This was the final, most
powerful spell... upon the reawakening of Angsaar, the sorcerous and undying
lifeforce encased within the blade be transferred to its wielder... aye, the one who
discovered the would be imbued with the power of the immortal, and by
the art of elder spellcraft, he would do with his ancient nemesis once more...
XERXES: Then there such a cataclysmic battle!
ALTARUS: And so, from his Citadel, the Chaos-liege did send forth his Horde of
to engage the army of the king...
THE
Behold, a legion of undead meets us upon the field of war.
Face me, of Lemuria, I wield thy bane, the Shadow-Sword... (and darksome
sorceries now empower me thunderous might!)
Hearken, the clarion is upon the winds, now the call to is upon us all,
The glory of battle is nigh at last, the fray we ride!
XERXES: The outcome, master... who the field victorious? Did the king prevail?
ALTARUS: The mists begin to disperse... for now, the images fade. That tale have to
wait 'til day...
Lyrics:
Music: Jonny