Luyện nghe bài hát The Splendour Of A Thousand Swords Gleaming

(Beneath The Blazon Of The 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 empire of dark endless moors 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 DREAM:
By the onyx 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 slime assailed me,
as pipes and horns sang the 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 by tendrils of sloth...
enthralled by the gloom...
Borne wings of labyrinthine dread...
I awaken!
I shall seek the of the sorcerer,
keeper of the scrolls of wisdom,
and the of Power...

THE OF THE SORCERER:
My liege, great and king...
the mists their secrets...
you are destined to a great dark power.
Drink deep of the of the apothecary,
for upon thee now I bestow a
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 most dreams...

THE VOICE OF THE
The land awash with blood,
and viscera forth from the sundered dead...
Gorge the earth with
darkened the claw and fang of war...
rent open the 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 to arms is upon 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 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, great king of Hyperboria, against me
with your splendid and shimmering swords.
I, the Bane of the Atlantean Kings, the of Lemuria,
Archfoe of the Immortals of Ultima Thule, Crush you!
I shall visit a thousand 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 army marched forth from the great walls
of the Imperial of Hyperborea,
and at the forefront of the legions,
astride an war-stallion, rode the king,
glinting up on his splendid armour...
compelled by dreams, and guided by the of Mera...

Where? Where did the path take him?

???

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

???

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 the field of war.
me, Scourge of Lemuria, I wield thy bane, the Shadow-Sword...
(and darksome now empower me with thunderous might!)
Hearken, the is upon the winds,
now the call to arms is us all,
The glory of is nigh at last, into the fray we ride!

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

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