Artanor
In Servitude of Darkness
1. I. Consumed by Time
And all around the plains will clearly be seen,
Where the mighty giants from beyond Delghår’ot,
once ruled the lands,
For the ground was with heaps of rusty weapons strewn,
Embraced by huge chasms etched into the sands,
Here hideous beasts once surrounded the ruined walls,
Monsters only told of now in stories,
Barren soils surrounded by rivers of molten rock,
Flow unchallenged like the days of evils glory.
Here bones of many a slain beast lay,
Forgotten and consumed by time,
Creatures once brandishing,
huge wings and claws.
Trolls broken tusks scatter the burning ground,
Next to teeth and felled giants jaws.
T’was the resurrection of the dead,
the evil Necromancer sanctified,
Against Valdänah and the mighty Tålran’s will,
beneath the sacred trees knotted roots,
The creation stone was laid,
No more shall the eyes of the dead,
remain closed and unseeing,
The silhouette of a human
was the semblance the minion’s took,
Engulfed in shadowy flame,
In the leading minion’s heart,
was murderous desire put,
And desire for enemy blood,
to flow in endless streams.
T’was the resurrection of the dead,
the evil Necromancer sanctified,
Against Valdänah’s and the mighty Tålran’s will,
Beneath the sacred trees knotted roots,
The creation stone was laid.
Making use of any source that casts reflection,
They can travel the lands afar,
Be it mirrors, portals or water,
They move with ominous purpose,
to carry out the Necromancer’s will.
2. II. From the Roaring Fire
They struck with their sledge-hammers stroke on stroke,
Until the sparks from the steel flew up high,
But never a word good or bad spoke the Mûrkar,
And though foul malice lurked in Lauw’s heart,
The Necromancer far distant with evil he thought,
On all he was going to obtain,
As a summer-breeze fickle he now anxiously sought,
To render the Mûrkar’s labour vain.
Whilst the bellows plied Helndäar,
and Trugboll the hammer,
They watched as the sparks flew up high,
And the sides of the hidden caves rang with a clamour,
While Lauw watched from the shadows, in silence.
Lauw sat him all swelling with venomous spite,
Took to spying on the Mûrkar’s hard work,
But the Mûrkar’s work was clever,
And they gave nothing away,
Not once ceasing the bellows to blow,
And it’s strange to say from the roaring fire,
Came the parts for the new engine,
for the Mûrkar’s train.
Whilst the bellows plied Helndäar,
and Trugboll the hammer,
And watched as the sparks flew up high,
And the sides of the hidden caves rang with the clamour,
Lauw watched from the shadows in silence.
Lauw sat him all swelling with venomous spite,
Took to spying on the work below,
But the Mûrkar's work was secret,
And they gave nothing away,
Not once ceasing the bellows to blow,
And it’s strange to say from the roaring fire,
Came the parts for the new engine,
for the Mûrkar’s train.
They took iron-pure from their secret walls,
The pieces were small in size,
It had been not long in the furnaces roar,
Was for a jewel beyond all prize,
A broad round cylinder made all of wroughten iron,
Like a serpent with its tail and its head,
And a garland of gems would this cylinder enfold,
Together with Mûrkan runes laid.
It was solid and heavy, and wrought with care,
Thrice it passed through the white flames glow,
A ring of power for the engines coal to burn,
No labour was spared, I trow,
They worked it and turned it with wondrous skill,
Till they gave it the virtue rare,
That on the third night it had hardened sufficient for use,
Eight more had been forged with the same care,
They used their skills with meticulous flair,
They used many tools and files,
And as their sledge-hammers like thunder boomed,
Trugboll etched the runes all the while.
The Mûrkar smiled at their steel-made power,
At how strongly its heart would beat,
It would make travelling their hidden tunnels
quicker than before,
They’d recourse never more to using their feet.
His object attained,
Lauw no longer remained beneath the earth,
but straight went him to Rakinar,
He knows that the things that he saw,
were worthy of telling.
3. III. A Reminder of Past Glory
A crowd stands gathered on the horizon,
Woe seeps into the hearts of the weak,
But the valiance of the inner warrior,
Has awakened within the pure of soul.
Drawn like moths are to a burning flame,
The crowd of people have taken up arms,
A group of strangers – joined by Tålran blood,
Brothers and sisters ready to claim back,
The hidden lands beyond Gerdone.
Brought into this world we despise,
We will be the hammer that smashes that existence,
Into the ancient forests of Elkaran we march,
Seeking the blessing of the old gods.
The corruption over centuries,
Summons to us the courage of the fallen ones,
That once roamed our lands,
Their blood remains forever etched,
In the earth beneath us,
A reminder of past glory,
And an endless source of strength and power.
4. IIII. Sons of the Rock
Rakinar promised so well with his lying tongue,
That the Delghår at length let him go,
He fled south through the earth,
Using the Mûrkar’s hidden tunnel system,
In Adrallen, he crept on his belly
as supple as an snake,
Through cracks in the hard granite he crawled,
Till he came across a new army,
And Mûrkar hammering steel,
By the light of the furnace blue,
He thought it was a remarkable sight to see...
The Mûrkar - with their aprons on,
Were hammering and smelting so busily,
Sturdy armour and weapons
from the rough brown stone,
Rock crystals from sand and hard flint they made,
Which tinged them with rosebud’s dye,
They cast in some rubies, with carbuncles red,
And hid them in cracks nearby.
They took the fresh weapons all gleaming with oil,
Mûrkan blacksmiths had forged them that morn,
And stained with earthly colour the steel’s sapphire blue,
For the King’s army were these weapons for,
For the archers, they searched out the brightest greens,
Like the young spring meadow's wear,
Forged the arrow-heads without flaw or stain,
From the ancient Ice giant’s tears.
When the King to the Mûrkar had his errand made known,
In a trice to complete the work they were ready,
In Valdänah’s eyes it shall be shown,
That Mûrkar in their friendship are steady,
They trace their line from the Tålran’s ancient stock,
What the King asked for shall be furnished with speed,
For it never shall be said that the sons of the rock,
Turned their backs on any ally in need.
They furnished their new bellows,
from the skin of a large beast,
The largest that they could find,
And the new bellows blew,
till the furnace began to roar,
And the fires flamed on high in the wind.
5. IIIII. First Born Minion
In natural form, he’s faceless; they wonder...
Every move he makes - they watch,
Until his skin transforms,
Happily, they dine around the fireplace,
A fire masking mischief and lies,
Feast - but keep eye on proceedings,
Nothing amiss except this strange servant, Lauw.
Not every Minion has endured such hardship and puppetry,
From a Master creating such tormented forms,
As night travels high above the fortress,
Lauw patrols the dark paths shrouded, and alone.
Alone...
His penance began with war,
Living in an eternal hell,
war is the only thing,
That keeps him sane.
The world he knew is memory gone,
Like each victim, their slaughter is already forgot,
No remorse – just drive to kill,
Empowered by each and every demise,
Lauw’s inner war, and tortured soul,
Is the reason why he slays,
First born Minion, he’s only known,
death and pain.
6. IIIIII. Despondent Echoes of Misery
In this illusionary world,
Haunted by constant fear, pain and confusion,
Life and death eternally entwine,
And spiral in the vortex
through the hourglass of time.
Whispers of life’s hardships,
echo within the silent prisons’ glass,
And for a heartbeat the serenity,
brought by random thoughts of death,
Take what feels like an aeon to pass.
Only cold brings warmth,
Only fear brings calm,
Only darkness – brings light,
Life only brings – inescapable death.
The fallacies chosen by those
that believe in religious lies,
Is that life – past or present –
begins, not ends, with their demise,
There are no demons or angels,
there is no heaven or hell,
The Gods will not answer your calls,
no matter how loud you yell.
We are the good and evil.
We are everything – yet nothing.
There is no freedom.
There is no choice.
There is only false hope.
Despondent echoes of misery.
There will be solace in death.
Only in an illusionary world,
could we truly think we are free,
We are nothing more than slaves,
In a cruel and unjust system,
of torturous control.
There is no freedom.
There is no choice.
There is only false hope.
Despondent echoes of misery.
There will be solace in death.
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