Luyện nghe bài hát The Splendour Of A Thousand Swords Gleaming

(Beneath The Of The Hyperborean Empire)

Gaze deep into the mists with 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 and warrior-kings who hail to grim gods.

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

THE DREAM:
By the sceptre of my forefathers,
the air is churning with of dethronement...
dread thus prophesized!
In a dream I was bade
the argent-eyed unicorn to the of Stones...
There a torrent of viscid assailed me,
as and horns sang the clarion of my dissolution...
And the usurpation of my ancient throne.
stalk the nighted halls of my palace...
poisoned and chalices surround me.
I for a balm, but my thirst
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 scrolls of wisdom,
and the of Power...

THE WORDS OF THE
My liege, and regal king...
the mists their secrets...
you are destined to a great dark power.
Drink of the potions of the apothecary,
for upon thee now I a shard
of the Crystal of Mera...
sacred of the At lantean mages,
won in by our legions.
My liege, the Crystal of Mera shall the truth
lurking hidden in thy most dreams...

THE VOICE OF THE
The land with spilled blood,
and viscera torn forth from the dead...
Gorge the earth flesh
with the claw and fang of war...
rent open the ravenous of worms...

THE
The Crystal illumines secrets, the truth is known...
a dire and threat is ranged against me.
Hearken, the clarion is the winds,
now the call to is upon us all,
Grim warriors, take up thy and hone thy gleaming swords.
Archers, string thy bows, brave knights, the steeds of war,
The of battle 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...

LORD ANGSAAR, DARK LIEGE OF
Come, king of Hyperboria, march against me
with your splendid legions and swords.
I, the Bane of the Atlantean Kings, the of Lemuria,
Archfoe of the Immortals of Ultima Thule, shall you!
I shall visit a plagues upon your realm,
and wreak untold havoc and carnage
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 Imperial of Hyperborea,
and at the of the mighty legions,
astride an war-stallion, rode the king,
sunlight up on his splendid armour...
compelled by dreams, and by the Crystal of Mera...

Where? Where did the king's path him?

???

But master, what did this blade possess?
secrets did it hold?

???

Then looms such a cataclysmic battle!

And so, his Black Citadel, the Chaos-liege did send
forth his Horde of 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 clarion is 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 king

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