Bal Sagoth The Splendour Of A Thousand Swords Gleaming Beneath The Blazon Of The Hyperborean Empire Lyrics

The Splendour Of A Thousand Swords Gleaming Beneath The Blazon Of The Hyperborean Empire Lyrics

ALTARUS: Gaze deep into the mists with your spirit-eyes, Xerxes... look far, and
tell me what you see. 
XERXES: I see a land far to the north... a vast empire of dark endless moors
and snow-crowned mountains... a land of brooding citadels and warrior-kings who
hail to grim gods. 
ALTARUS: Look well, Xerxes, for enlightenment hides within the fog-swathed
vales of Hyperborea... 
 
The King`s Dream: 
By the onyx sceptre of my forefathers, the air is churning with auguries of
dethronement... 
Impending dread thus prophesized! 
In a dream I was bade ride the argent-eyed unicorn to the Ring of Stones... 
There a torrent of viscid slime assailed me, as pipes and horns sang the
clarion of my dissolution... 
And the usurpation of my ancient azure throne. 
Assassins stalk the nighted halls of my palace... poisoned blades and chalices
surround me. 
I thirsted for a balm, but my thirst was slaked by an envenomed draught. 
My swordarm shackled by tendrils of sloth... enthralled by the chasmed gloom...

Born eupon wings of labyrinthine dread... I awaken! 
I shall seek the counsel of the sorcerer, keeper of the ancient scrolls of
wisdom, and the Crystals of Power... 
 
The Words of the Sorcerer: 
My liege, great and regal king... the mists disclose their secrets... you are
destined to wield a great dark power. Drink deep of the potions of the
apothecary, for upon thee now I bestow a shard of the mystic Crystal of Mera...
sacred artefact of the Atlantean mages, won in battle by our legions. My liege,
the Crystal of Mera shall unveil the truth lurking hidden in thy most
fever-haunted dreams... 
 
The Voice of the Harbinger: 
The land awash with spilled blood, and viscera torn forth from the sundered
dead... 
Gorge the earth with flesh darkened with the claw and fang of war... rent open
the ravenous maws of worms... 
 
The King: 
The Crystal illumines dark secrets, the truth is known... a dire and ancient
threat is ranged against me. 
Hearken, the clarion is upon the winds, now the call to arms is upon us all, 
Grim warriors, take up thy spears and hone thy gleaming swords. 
Archers, string thy bows, brave knights, saddle the steeds of war, 
The glory of battle is nigh at last, our banner shall fly this day in victory! 
 
My warriors, a legacy shall this day be wrought by our blades, decreed by the
gods, 
Blessed by the blood of vanquished foes. Our destiny beckons... 
 
Lord Angsaar, Dark Liege of Chaos: 
Come, great king of Hyperboria, march against me with your splendid legions and
shimmering swords. I, the Bane of the Atlantean Kings, the Scourge of Lemuria,
Archfoe of the Immortals of Ultima Thule, shall Crush you! I shall visit a
thousand plagues upon your realm, and wreak untold havoc and bloody carnage
until I have your throne... and your soul! 
 
ALTARUS: And thus, flanked by the splendour of azure banners, a vast army
marched forth from the great walls of the Imperial City of Hyperborea, and at
the forefront of the mighty legions, astride an ebon war-stallion, rode the
king, sunlight glinting upon his splendid armour... compelled by dreams, and
guided by the Crystal of Mera... 
XERXES: Where? Where did the king`s path take him? 
ALTARUS: The king was compelled to lead his forces to the shadow-haunted
Mountains of the Dead, a grim and brooding place steeped in dark and ancient
legendry. Alone he rode into the gaping maw of a huge cave hewn into the side
of the tallest mountain countless ages past by unknown hands. For three full
days and nights he did not emerge from the cave... until, at last, he rode
forth from the eldritch mountain once more, a terrible knowledge shadowed in
his icy eyes, and bearing in his gauntleted fist a huge black sword, a
magnificent ebon blade which no human blacksmith ever forged. Fearsome
sorcerous power crackled within the yard of black steel, dancing upon its
searingly honed, glyph-scored blade... and its bejewelled, dragon-carved hilt
did whisper arcane secrets to the king in a strange, elder tongue. 
XERXES: But master, what powers did this blade possess? What secrets did it
hold? 
ALTARUS: Many centuries ago, before even were waged the Great Wars between the
ancient kingdoms of Atlantis and Hyperborea, Lord Angsaar did rise from his
charnel-tomb and do battle with a powerful immortal warrior-shaman over the
possession of the elder Crystals of Mera, mystic gems of unparalleled magical
potency. Angsaar, his power swelled by forces from the vast Outer Darkness, did
smite his foe to the brink of destruction... but, with his fading sorceries, the
immortal mystically transferred his life-essence into his great black sword, and
scattered the magic crystals across the galaxy, leaving Angsaar with a hollow
victory and forcing him to return once more to his dark Chamber of Slumber. The
sword was lost for centuries, as were the crystals, until the one gem to remain
on this world was discovered deep beneath the northern seas by an ancient
Atlantean wizard. And the sword... legends spoke of how its final resting place
would be made known by the sorceries of the last crystal only when the blade`s
power would once again ne needed to battle the Chaos-liege. This was the
immortal`s final, most powerful spell... upon the reawakening of Angsaar, the
sorcerous energies and undying lifeforce encased within the blade would be
transferred to its wielder... aye, the one who discovered the Shadow-Sword
would be imbued with the power of the immortal, and by the art of elder
spellcraft, he would do battle with his ancient nemesis once more... 
XERXES: Then there looms such a cataclysmic battle! 
ALTARUS: And so, from his Black Citadel, the Chaos-liege did send forth his
Horde of Wraiths to engage the army of the king... 
 
THE KING: 
Behold, a legion of undead fiends meets us upon the field of war. 
Face me, Scourge of Lemuria, I wield thy bane, the Shadow-Sword... (and
darksome sorceries now empower me with thunderous might!) 
Hearken, the clarion is upon the winds, now the call to arms is upon us all, 
The glory of battle is nigh at last, into the fray we ride! 
 
XERXES: The outcome, master... who left the field victorious? Did the king
prevail? 
ALTARUS: The mists begin to disperse... for now, the images fade. That tale
shall have to wait `til another day...