Luyện nghe bài hát The Splendour Of A Thousand Swords Gleaming

(Beneath The Of The Hyperborean Empire)

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

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

Look well, Xerxes, for enlightenment
within the fog-swathed of Hyperborea...

THE DREAM:
By the sceptre of my forefathers,
the air is with auguries of dethronement...
Impending dread prophesized!
In a dream I was ride
the argent-eyed to the Ring of Stones...
There a of viscid slime assailed me,
as pipes and horns sang the of my dissolution...
And the usurpation of my ancient throne.
Assassins stalk the halls of my palace...
poisoned and chalices surround me.
I thirsted for a balm, but my
was slaked by an draught.
My swordarm shackled by of sloth...
by the chasmed gloom...
Borne upon wings of dread...
I awaken!
I seek the counsel of the sorcerer,
keeper of the scrolls of wisdom,
and the of Power...

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

THE VOICE OF THE
The awash with spilled blood,
and viscera torn forth the sundered dead...
Gorge the earth flesh
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 threat is ranged against 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, string thy bows, brave knights, the steeds of war,
The glory of is nigh at last,
our banner fly this day in victory!

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

LORD ANGSAAR, DARK OF CHAOS:
Come, king of Hyperboria, march against me
with your legions and shimmering swords.
I, the Bane of the Atlantean Kings, the of Lemuria,
of the Immortals of Ultima Thule, shall Crush you!
I shall visit a thousand upon your realm,
and untold havoc and bloody carnage
until I have your throne... and soul!

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

Where? Where did the king's take him?

???

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

???

Then looms such a cataclysmic battle!

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

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

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

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