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...
look far, and me what you see.

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

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

THE KING'S
By the onyx of my forefathers,
the air is churning auguries of dethronement...
dread thus prophesized!
In a I was bade ride
the argent-eyed to the Ring of Stones...
There a torrent of viscid slime me,
as pipes and sang the clarion of my dissolution...
And the of my ancient azure throne.
stalk the nighted halls of my palace...
poisoned 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 the counsel of the sorcerer,
keeper of the scrolls 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 of the potions of the apothecary,
for thee 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 unveil the
lurking hidden in thy most dreams...

THE OF THE HARBINGER:
The land with spilled blood,
and viscera torn forth the sundered dead...
Gorge the with flesh
darkened with the claw and of war...
rent open the maws of worms...

THE
The Crystal illumines dark secrets, the is known...
a dire and ancient threat is ranged 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, the steeds 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 of vanquished foes.
Our beckons...

ANGSAAR, DARK LIEGE OF CHAOS:
Come, great king of Hyperboria, march me
your splendid legions 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 upon your realm,
and wreak untold havoc and bloody
I have your throne... and your soul!

And thus, flanked by the of azure 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 guided by the of Mera...

Where? Where did the king's path him?

???

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

???

Then there such a cataclysmic battle!

And so, his Black Citadel, the Chaos-liege did send
forth his of Wraiths 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 is upon the winds,
now the call to is upon us all,
The glory of is nigh at last, into the fray we ride!

The outcome, master...
who left the field
Did the king

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