Luyện nghe bài hát The Splendour Of A Thousand Swords Gleaming

(Beneath The Blazon Of The 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 empire of dark endless and snow-crowned mountains...
a of brooding citadels and warrior-kings who hail to grim gods.

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

THE KING'S
By the onyx of my forefathers,
the air is churning auguries of dethronement...
dread thus prophesized!
In a dream I was bade
the argent-eyed unicorn to the of Stones...
There a of viscid slime assailed me,
as pipes and horns sang the 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...
enthralled by the gloom...
Borne upon wings of dread...
I awaken!
I shall the counsel of the sorcerer,
keeper of the scrolls of wisdom,
and the of Power...

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

THE OF THE HARBINGER:
The land awash spilled blood,
and torn forth from the sundered dead...
Gorge the earth with
darkened with the and fang of war...
rent open the ravenous of worms...

THE
The Crystal illumines dark secrets, the 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 and hone thy gleaming swords.
Archers, string thy bows, brave knights, saddle the of war,
The of battle is nigh at last,
our shall fly this day in victory!

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

LORD ANGSAAR, DARK LIEGE OF
Come, great of Hyperboria, march against me
with your splendid legions and swords.
I, the Bane of the Atlantean Kings, the of Lemuria,
of the Immortals of Ultima Thule, shall Crush you!
I shall a thousand plagues upon your realm,
and wreak untold havoc and carnage
until I have throne... and your soul!

And thus, flanked by the splendour of banners,
a vast army marched from 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 by the Crystal of Mera...

Where? Where did the king's take him?

???

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

???

Then there looms a cataclysmic battle!

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

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

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

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