Luyện nghe bài hát The Splendour Of A Thousand Swords Gleaming

(Beneath The Of The Hyperborean Empire)

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

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

Look well, Xerxes, for enlightenment
within the vales of Hyperborea...

THE KING'S
By the sceptre of my forefathers,
the air is churning with of dethronement...
Impending thus prophesized!
In a I was bade ride
the argent-eyed to the Ring of Stones...
There a of viscid slime assailed me,
as pipes and sang the clarion of my dissolution...
And the usurpation of my ancient throne.
Assassins stalk the nighted of my palace...
poisoned blades and chalices me.
I thirsted for a balm, but my
was by an envenomed draught.
My swordarm by tendrils of sloth...
enthralled by the gloom...
Borne upon of labyrinthine dread...
I awaken!
I shall seek the of the sorcerer,
keeper of the ancient of wisdom,
and the of Power...

THE WORDS OF THE
My liege, great and king...
the mists their secrets...
you are destined to wield a dark power.
Drink deep of the of the apothecary,
for upon now I bestow a shard
of the Crystal of Mera...
artefact of the At lantean mages,
won in by our legions.
My liege, the Crystal of shall unveil the truth
lurking hidden in thy fever-haunted dreams...

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

THE
The Crystal illumines secrets, the truth is known...
a and ancient threat is ranged against me.
Hearken, the clarion is the winds,
now the call to arms is us all,
Grim warriors, take up thy spears and hone thy swords.
Archers, string thy bows, brave knights, saddle the of war,
The glory of battle is 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 blood of foes.
Our beckons...

LORD ANGSAAR, LIEGE OF CHAOS:
Come, great of Hyperboria, march against me
with your legions and shimmering swords.
I, the Bane of the Kings, the Scourge of Lemuria,
of the Immortals of Ultima Thule, shall Crush you!
I shall visit a plagues upon your realm,
and wreak untold and bloody carnage
until I your throne... and your soul!

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

Where? Where did the king's path him?

???

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

???

Then there looms a cataclysmic battle!

And so, from his Black Citadel, the did send
his Horde of Wraiths to engage the army of the king...

THE
Behold, a legion of undead fiends meets us upon the 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 the winds,
now the to arms is upon us all,
The glory of is nigh at last, into the fray we ride!

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

The mists begin to disperse... for now, the fade.
That tale shall have to wait another day...