Luyện nghe bài hát The Splendour Of A Thousand Swords Gleaming

(Beneath The Blazon Of The Empire)

Gaze deep the mists with your spirit-eyes, Xerxes...
far, and tell me what you see.

I see a far to the north...
a empire of dark endless moors and snow-crowned mountains...
a land of citadels and warrior-kings who hail to grim gods.

Look well, Xerxes, for hides
the fog-swathed vales of Hyperborea...

THE DREAM:
By the onyx of my forefathers,
the air is churning auguries of dethronement...
Impending dread prophesized!
In a dream I was ride
the argent-eyed unicorn to the of Stones...
There a torrent of viscid slime me,
as and horns sang the clarion of my dissolution...
And the of my ancient azure throne.
Assassins stalk the halls of my palace...
blades and chalices surround me.
I for a balm, but my thirst
was slaked by an draught.
My swordarm shackled by of sloth...
by the chasmed gloom...
Borne wings of labyrinthine dread...
I awaken!
I shall seek the of the sorcerer,
of the ancient scrolls of wisdom,
and the of Power...

THE OF THE SORCERER:
My liege, and regal king...
the mists their secrets...
you are to wield a great dark power.
deep of the potions of the apothecary,
for upon thee now I bestow a
of the Crystal of Mera...
artefact of the At lantean mages,
won in by our legions.
My liege, the Crystal of Mera shall unveil the
lurking in thy most fever-haunted dreams...

THE VOICE OF THE
The awash with spilled blood,
and viscera torn from the sundered dead...
Gorge the earth with
darkened with the claw and of war...
rent open the ravenous of worms...

THE
The illumines dark secrets, the truth is known...
a dire and ancient threat is ranged me.
Hearken, the clarion is the winds,
now the to arms is upon us all,
Grim warriors, take up thy spears and thy gleaming swords.
Archers, thy bows, brave knights, saddle the steeds of war,
The glory of is nigh at last,
our banner shall fly day in victory!

My warriors, a legacy shall day be wrought
by our blades, by the gods,
Blessed by the of vanquished foes.
Our beckons...

ANGSAAR, DARK LIEGE OF CHAOS:
Come, great king of Hyperboria, march me
with your splendid and shimmering swords.
I, the Bane of the Kings, the Scourge of Lemuria,
Archfoe of the Immortals of Thule, shall Crush you!
I shall visit a thousand plagues your realm,
and wreak untold havoc and carnage
until I have your throne... and soul!

And thus, flanked by the of azure banners,
a vast army forth from the great walls
of the Imperial of Hyperborea,
and at the forefront of the legions,
astride an ebon war-stallion, the king,
sunlight glinting up on his armour...
by dreams, and guided by the Crystal of Mera...

Where? Where did the path take him?

???

But master, what powers did blade possess?
What secrets did it

???

Then there looms a cataclysmic battle!

And so, from his Citadel, the Chaos-liege did send
forth his Horde of Wraiths to engage the of the king...

THE
Behold, a legion of undead fiends us upon the field of war.
me, Scourge of Lemuria, I wield thy bane, the Shadow-Sword...
(and darksome sorceries now me with thunderous might!)
Hearken, the clarion is the winds,
now the to arms is upon us all,
The glory of battle is nigh at last, into the we ride!

The outcome, master...
who the field victorious?
Did the prevail?

The mists to disperse... for now, the images fade.
That tale shall to wait 'til another day...