Bal Sagoth
Starfire Burning Upon The Ice-Veiled throne of Ultima Thule (1996)
1. INTERACTIVE CD-ROM TRACK
2. BLACK DRAGONS SOAR ABOVE THE MOUNTAIN OF SHADOWS
(Prologue)
The Watcher in Stone:
...And I stand enthralled and silent atop the ancient, shadowed
mountain, gazing in awe at the stygian, night-cloaked sky, as above
me a wondrous flight of ebon dragons soar on vast wings blacker than
the darkling heavens... Mayhap I behold the personal war-dragons of
none other than the mysterious and legendary Ophidian King himself,
majestically riding the night winds to the glorious field of some great
and epic battle... By the gods, a more fearsomely splendid sight in this
world there cannot be!
3. TO DETHRONE THE WITCH-QUEEN OF MYTOS K'UNN (THE LEGEND
OF THE BATTLE OF BLACKHELM VALE)
The Chronicles of War:
The vast armies of Mytos K'unn, marshalled by a sorceress of great
power known as Zyrashana the Witch-Queen, had been cutting a
swath through the Eastern Kingdoms since high summer the preceding
year. Empowering her troops with great sorceries, she had seen all
opposition fall before the ravening swords of her forces since the first
bloody campaign; the invasion of the ancient and noble realm of
Delania. The aftermath of the final battle had seen the systematic
slaughter of the Delanian royal family, and the torture and execution of
all those who had been loyal to their banner. During the ensuing
months, more kingdoms and satrapies toppled before the might of
Zyrashana's legions, commanded by the fearsome and unswervingly
loyal battle-lord Talus Ebonfyre, a man of sublime brutality whom
many beleived to be possessed by a demon-spirit from the dark
realms. Emboldened by their victories and the expansion of their
queen's dark dominion, the hordes of Mytos K'unn began the incursion
into the lands of the Northern Tribes, beginning with the grim and
brooding territories south of the Snow Kingdoms... the rugged
homelands of the warlike clans which had been recently united into a
strong realm by the powerful warrior-king Caylen-Tor, a man known
to his allies and enemies alike as the Wolf of the North. Thinking the
barbaric tribesmen little threat, the Witch-Queen intends a largely
unopposed march throught their lands to strike at the wealthy and
fertile realms beyond the Mountain Kingdoms to the west... but
Caylen-Tor has vowed that a searing torrent of blood and steel shall
meet all those who deign to enter unwelcome or drive their standard
unbidden into his land...
As grim winter slowly yields to spring, the armies of Mytos K'unn begin
their march northwards, and news of the advance of the
Witch-Queen's forces into Blackhelm Vale, the valley known for
centuries as the Gate to the Northlands, soon reaches the highland
stronghold of Caylen-Tor. Grimly taking up his sword and spear and
donning the woad of war, he vows that Zyrashana shall pay in blood
for every league she has dared venture in his sacred lands. Scouts
soon return with the information that the enemy is camped at the
base of the valley, preparing to march with th dawn. The court
shamans forsee rivers of blood and untold carnage, and great
battlespells are woven as Caylen-Tor leads his vastly outnumbered
Northlander warriors to the misty, moon-swathed expanse that is
Blackhelm Vale. Legends say that the blood of many kings has been
spilled on the dark earth of the valley over the generations, and
Caylen-Tor promises to his grim gods that the earth will once again
drink deep this night. With his army silent and brooding beneath the
moon, he knows that whatever the outcome, this night shall see a
legend of war written in blood and the deaths of men... a legend none
shall soon forget...
The War Testament of Caylen-Tor (On the Night of the Bloodying of
Swords):
O' grim gods of battle, empower us this night...
Anoint us with the crimson rain, feed our steel with slaughter...
Let every blow be a killing blow, grant us victory, or a warrior's death.
Come, moon-fogs, Descend to cloak our numbers, the heady scent of
battle beckons,
My ash-hafted spear feels good in my hands, girt 'round with spells
(our flesh gloriously) woad anointed,
Ravens awaiting slaughter soar high above, blood-worms bloat on red
carnage,
I'll carve the moon-wheel in their flesh, as havoc churns the heather!
A swirling mantle of mist-magic swathes us, powerful spells woven by
the fen-witches of the great mere... Deep night and moon-mist shall
be our allies as we surge into the fray! At my bidding, the fog clears for
a brief moment, and I gaze down upon the valley to behold the army
of the Witch-Queen... great tents arrayed upon the heather, powerful
steeds tethered, the light from countless burning brands illumining the
night, many warriors standing, weapons in hand... aye, all sword
fodder.
Entwined in war-fogs...
Entwined by war-spells...
Blessed in blood as raven-saters, slake the thirst of steel burning
bright,
Reap the harvest of spilled entrails, we'll return with many heads this
night.
The death-ravening black fury fills me,
The spatter of hot blood seet on my lips,
This yard of steel sings a deadly song in my grasp!
Cleaving bodies left and right, a head falls with each swing of my blade,
A storm of shafts screaming form yew-bows, (through their armoured
ranks we shall) carve a path with steel, a blood-drenched swath!
And the thirst of the earth shall be slaked with blood at the fields of
carnage...
A staggering sea of crimson, a towering mountain of ravaged flesh,
All enraptured by the searing kiss of steel,
All surfeit from supping deep of the grim chalice of battle...
Brooding gods of the north, display to these outlander thralls thine ire,
Envenom our blades with the death-kiss of a thousand serpents,
Unfetter the dread war-wolves within us,
That their claws may rend, and their jaws may be reddened.
The bloodying is at hand!
My spear hammers into the chest of a warrior, and bright blood erupts
from his lips as he falls to the heather. I turn aside a vicious
swordthrust and my own blade snakes out to cleave the neck of the
attacker, shearing through his veins in a shower of dark red. An enemy
blade opens my shoulder to the bone, but I sweep my axe out in a
deadly arc, its iron head rending armour and biting deep into flesh.
Talus Ebonfyre's abdomen yawns open and he staggers back as his
intestines spew forth in a pulsing mass. I sunder his head with another
blow as he falls and his skull yields to spill its steaming contents to the
earth. As I watch, a writhing, shadowy form rises from the smitten
corpse of the Witch-Queen's warlord and flees howling into the night...
I vault to the saddle of a riderless black war-horse and seize the
banner of Mytos-K'unn... for every one of us that has fallen, we have
taken five of the enemy screaming with us... the battle is ours!
Bright moon, gleam o'er moor and heather, wood and vale, deep fen
and lake,
Grim mountains crowned with snows, great rings of stones, black
'neath the stars,
The storms extol our ancient glory, great mounds feed us, power from
the sacred earth.
With faith and steel we walk our shadowed paths, our blood runs as
fire, swords blessed by sorcery.
Wolves of the north, raise thine steel to the skies, revel in the pride of
your wounds,
Let our victory-song ride the winds of this blood-gorged eve,
For on this night of red swords we have wrought a legend,
Forged in the fires of our rage, and tempered with the spilled blood of
the slain...
O' grim gods of battle, empower us this night and always,
Anoint us with the crimson rain, forever feed our steel with slaughter...
Let every blow be a killing blow, grant us eternal victory, 'til we die a
warrior's death.
And so did Caylen-Tor turn the armies of Mytos K'unn back from the
frontiers of his northern kingdom. Those enemy soldiers who fled the
field as the mist lifted and their banner fell, are hunted down and
brought to their knees before the king. Summoning a surviving warrior
Mytos K'unn, Caylen-Tor gives unto him two gifts with which to return
to his queen; one is the fallen, sundered banner of Mytos K'unn, the
other is the cloven head of Talus Ebonfyre. The king's words ring out
over the blood-drenched moor: "Take this message back to your
queen... if ever again she deigns to strike against my people, the
slaughter this night will seem as naught compared to the havoc I shall
visit upon her then." When news of the defeat and the fearsome
message of Caylen-Tor reached Mytos K'unn, Zyrashana's spells of
regal dominance waned, and her many courtiers and councillors,
liberated from the imposition of subservience, plotted against their
queen, 'til soon she was driven from the great royal palace by her own
elite guard, her throne seized by an ambitious baron who had won the
favour of the nobles and mages of the realm. Evading inprisonment
and surviving only by her mastery of spellcraft, Zyrashana fled to the
satrapies of the east, and nothing more was seen or heard of her for
some considerable time...
4. AS THE VORTEX ILLUMINES THE CRYSTALLINE WALLS OF
KOR-AVUL-THAA
Kor-Avul-Thaa... finest jewel in the crown of a realm of sublime glory,
greatest city in the Middle Kingdoms, mayhap all the world... Its
splendid walls of shimmering crystal could be seen from a hundred
leagues distant, kissed by the golden rays of the sun, or caressed by
the ethereal fingers of a midnight moon. Its magnificent spires and
citadels, built by generations of kings from the resplendent gifts hewn
from the ancient bosom of the sacred Crystal Mountains, had oft'
times been the bitter envy of rival emperors, and many were the
sieges which Kor-Avul-Thaa had withstood and repulsed over the
centuries, for powerful sorcerers did weave great spells of protection
about the dazzling towers, and none may have passed unbidden
through the vast sapphirean gates of mighty Kor-Avul-Thaa...
From the Journals of Sage Daelun
The Oracle of Kor-Avul-Thaa:
The sky rent asunder... black-winged devils surge forth from the void...
A maelstrom of crimson fire burns above us... what carnage has thou
wrought?
Not sword, ballistae, nor burning brand
Could e'er these walls aspire to breach,
Yet now the city's fall is nigh,
As elder rites black fiends unleash.
High Lord of the Brotherhood of Dark Elucidation (Keepers of the
Forbidden Books of the First Cataclysm):
By Klatrymadon and Zuranthus, such ancient secrets we discovered
within these sinistrous, worm-worn pages,
Etched with darksome glyphs and sigils, bound with fearsome spells,
An eldritch tide of stygian sorceries unfettered by the forbidden Tome
of Shadows...
Now thunderous cataclysm befalls the gleaming Kor-Avul-Thaa (The
mystic gate stands open!)
The Xytaxehedron held to the stars... the incantation uttered with
eager tongues...
(What long-shackled powers of the elder dark have our conjurings
loosed?)
By Klatrymadon and Zuranthus, the vortex blackens the stars above,
A vast plague of amorphous horrors descends to rend with fang and
talon,
(As with torrents of blood the crystalline walls run red?)
And in the glooming chambers of our shadowed sanctum, we wait,
half-mad with terror,
To reap the slaughterous harvest which we have sown...
The Chronicler of the Cataclysm:
And beyond the vortex, the churning black waters of the void did
disgorge the Dwellers in Eternal Shadow,
And upon a horde of winged horrors, brandishing swords of ebon
flame, they rode out from the Gate...
And a terrible silence fell upon Kor-Avul-Thaa...
The Echoes of the Oracle:
The sky rent asunder, black winged devils surge forth from the void...
A maelstrom of crimson fire burns above us... what carnage has thou
wrought?
The Chronicler of the Cataclysm:
The Chronicles of Time speak of only two other instances when the
sky did split wide and bleed forth such a torrent of horror as that which
assailed Kor-Avul-Thaa... One of those times was the fateful eve when
the moon burned black over ancient Lemuria, as a legion of ravening
fiends emerged from the Outer Darkness to visit catastrophe upon
that realm... And the other... the other manifestation of such a
staggering cosmic evil is recorded only in the ancient Scrolls of the
Third Circle, a dark collection of terrifying blasphemies which was
believed to have been burned by the Order of Kl'aa at roughly the
same time as the first Tome of Shadows was discovered deep within
the Black Pyramid... These scrolls speak disturbingly of visitations to
our earth by creatures from a terrible place known as the Black
Galaxy... creatures which were able to span the vast expanses of time
and space separating our world from theirs in their great dark chariots,
bringing pestilence and carnage whenever they set foot upon the
earth... And yet, the scrolls also speak of the Others, known by some
ancient, long-dead tribes as the Travelling Ones... beings who did stand
against the denizens of the Black Galaxy and wage war with them
across the nighted void. It is said that the Travelling Ones sailed the
star-seas in huge silvern spheres ringed with a myriad pulsing lights,
and that in a great battle they drove their shadowy foes back to the
Black Galaxy... but at a great cost... The Travelling Ones were drained
of their cosmic powers and cast into a deep slumber, and some say
that they remain here still, hidden in mysterious, secret places,
awaiting the time of their reawakening. It was ascertained by those
mages who found the Tome of Shadows that certain gateways
existed linking our world and the Black Galaxy, just as maps carved
into the stone walls of ancient tombs displayed the pathway to the
terrifying realm through the eternal blackness of the void... and within
the sinister pages of the dread book were the arcane keys... the rites
to open wide these gates and give the dark wanderers beyond the
freedom to roam the earth once again...
And the darkling lords did descend upon Kor-Avul-Thaa to claim their
splendid prize, and enthrone themselves within the glittering walls...
The Echoes of the Oracle:
Not sword, ballistae, nor burning brand
Could e'er these walls aspire to breach,
Yet now the city's fall is nigh,
As elder rites black fiends unleash...
The Brotherhood:
By Klatrymadon and Zuranthus, in Kor-Avuk-Thaa, darkness reigns
eternal...
Nevermore shall the city glimmer, for now the crystalline walls gleam
black...
Ever black...
And so it was that the bedazzling and splendid Kor-Avul-Thaa did
become the City of Shadows, a sinister fortress of elder fiends and
fearsome beasts, unleashed by the meddlings of mortals aspiring to
dark thresholds of forbidden knowledge and arcane power, a
nightmare city shunned and feared by all. And not since the sinking of
Atlantis was the fall of a realm so sorely lamented...
From the Journals of Sage Daelun
5. STARFIRE BURNING UPON THE ICE-VEILED THRONE OF ULTIMA
THULE
Spears agleam in the dying sun,
The blood is spilled, the battle's won,
From the icy throne of God-King shall rule,
When nine stars kiss the moon o'er Ultima Thule.
(Old Northlander war-song, found in the ancient scrolls of Volmyr)
The Final Part of Voryn Helmsmiter's Journey to the Ice Realm:
Blood drips from my frost-encased sword, forming a crimson blossom
upon the ice...
My limbs cold, becoming as one with the massing snows... my eyes
nearly frozen closed.
For how long had we travelled? The memory grows dim, lost in the
cruel, searing storm-winds.
And now, at last... our quest is at an end.
With the blessings of the elders we began our journey beyond the
great veil of shadowed glaciers...
They spoke of a prophecy foretold, an ancient and glorious legacy,
A quest for the realm of legendry lost to man since before even the
Star-Lords descended...
Now, only I survive, my blood spilling to the ice, turning to crimson
crystal upon the deeply frozen earth.
Elder sorcery crackles and hums all about me, coursing through the
sky, the snow...
As grim destiny approaches with the freezing boreal gales and this
ancient prophecy unfolds...
Predication of the Elders:
Go, follow the witch-lights in the northern night sky, beyond the great
silvern mountains...
Let the sacred moon-crystal be your guide, beware the sentinels at
the Caverns of Eternal Mist...
Spears agleam in the dying sun,
The blood is spilled, the battle's won,
From the icy throne of God-King shall rule,
When nine stars kiss the moon o'er Ultima Thule.
Swathed in moon-frosts, in icy winds our blazon flying,
Iron gleaming 'neath the stars, black skies ablaze with astral fire,
White wolves (like silent spirits) haunt us, ever northwards, the
ice-gem leads us, glimmering,
Powerful spells entwine the shrine of legendry, mighty gates of frozen
splendour looming,
When the moon and stars shine as one upon the snows, the ancient
ice-gate opens, the prophecy is fulfilled!
Towering, ice-encrusted forms lumber forth from the freezing mist,
(Their eyes shimmering with a fiendish, eldritch malevolance...)
Our steel is raised against their weapons of gleaming crystal,
And the virgin snow is rendered crimson by bloodshed in a searing
storm of slaughter.
(Wounded, dying, my flesh rent by weapons no human ever forged or
wielded, I am beckoned forward by a strange, alluring force from
beyond the veil of swirling mists...)
Shadows, images form in the glittering rune-carved walls of this glacial
chamber,
Secrets frozen within the timeless vaults of eternity...
The throne of the time-lost ice realm, entwined in the mantle of such
searing star-born power...
This frozen, aeon-cloaked seat of immortal majesty... (of an empire
forged long before the vast seas rose in devouring fury!)
What shimmering swords raised in combat once sang with the glorious
clamour of steel on steel?
What splendid banners, billowing in the icy gales, once heralded the
march of these invincible silverclad legions to the blood-swathed
embrace of epic battle?
The glory of untold thousands of years past... this ethereal legacy of
mighty Ultima Thule.
The frozen eyes of immortal kings watch me... such a dark splendour!
The Guardian of Ice and Shadow:
The grim Ice-Gods sleep in these frost-bound tombs, illumined by the
caress of lunar fire,
And the kiss of star-gleam from the stygian void...
All is now as was foretold in prophecy, written in the very ether of
empyreal eternity...
The celestial alignment is night... the conjunction is at hand!
And nine stars illumine the northern heavens, a vast cosmic sigil with
the silvern moon at its centre...
Blazing argent light fills the chamber, engulfing the hewn walls of elder
ice,
These ancient carvings in a time-veiled tongue, (etched into the
primeval ice countless aeons ago, now bathed in diaphonous
incandescence by this storm of lucent stellar power, their mindsearing
meaning at last becomes known to me...) their cosmic secrets
unfold...
The ice-throne is encased by a shimmering wall of writhing cerulean
flame,
A lambent flame far colder than the frozen surface upon which it
dances...
And then, enlightenment comes, gleaming down upon my
consciousness as the bright moon gazes down upon this auroral
vista... From my mind is lifted an obscuring veil, a veil induced by
sorcerous arts, and I realize I have been merely a vassal of another's
twisted will, a pawn in a game which is entwined in treachery and
malign aspirations to thresholds of great power. Such a traitorous web
has been spun! The elders of my kingdom bow in obeisance to the vile
priests of Xothan'kur, and it is their diseased machinations which have
urged me here, to the very heart of the far-fabled ice realm... for they
seek to usurp the power of the Conjunction, stealing the vast energies
of the Ice-Veiled throne and absorbing them into their own leprous,
undead bodies, perpetuating the adoration of their abhorrent liege for
countless ages, liberating his vile will and enslaving the realms of the
world... Aye, for generations they have plotted their actions, and I was
the key to this plot, chosen from birth for this fated journey... for the
blood of the ancient kings of Ultima Thule runs strong in my veins, and
only once in every aeon may one such as I stand before the throne
during the great cosmic alignment, when the sorceries of the ancient
Ice-Gods are at their peak, and rightfully wield this power unleashed...
And yet I vow that the vile minions of Xothan'kur shall not prevail...
Liberating the fettered power of the moon-crystal, I sever the tendrils
of their dark conjurings, and their aspirations are at an end, their spells
broken by the very power which they sought to usurp! The final
vestiges of mortal life flee my body in crimson gouts, and at last I
realize what the fates have spun for me, and what is carved in the
very ice all about me... My destiny is at hand...
The Herald of Enlightenment:
And so, enrob'd by tendrils of starfire and the raiments of lunar mist,
The immortal liege whose sceptred empire is eternity,
Sits enthroned and brooding over his dark realm once more.
The last of my life's blood spills to the ice, (as star-wrought destiny is
at last fulfilled.)
Swathed in freezing flame...
The mystic wolves of the frost-moon (slowly, silently) encircle me,
Their eyes are blazing azure, and their fur is whiter than the sublime
snows.
Such power! I am the Chosen... the secrets of the earth and the stars
are unlocked before me...
I am destined to reign forever... to reign from the Ice-Veiled Throne of
Ultima Thule!
6. JOURNEY TO THE ISLE OF MISTS (OVER THE MOONLESS DEPTHS
OF NIGHT-DARK SEAS)
The Log of the Northern Mariner:
The great serpent-prow of my ship, Wave-Render, cleaves the nighted
waters as we voyage across this dark, icy sea, towards the
unknown... Above, the bright winter's moon emerges a veil of cloud to
cast its lucent rays upon us, and a clinging, supine sea-mist writhes
upon the midnight waves, swirled by the cool, whispering wind which
catches our great sail, pushing us onwards, ever onwards... And
beyond the tang of the darkling sea, the scent of night is as strong and
heady as a summer blossom. I know not what awaits us at the elder
Isle of Mists... that grim and mystery-haunted place which beckons me
to its shadowed embrace, swathed in dark legendry and entwined in
the mantle of ancient sorceries... and yet I must hearken to its
ethereal call... for mayhap the gods decreed this to be my final
voyage...
7. THE SPLENDOUR OF A THOUSAND SWORDS GLEAMING BENEATH
THE BLAZON OF THE HYPERBOREAN EMPIRE
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...
Borne upon 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...
8. AND LO, WHEN THE IMPERIUM MARCHES AGAINST GUL-KOTHOTH,
THEN DARK SORCERIES SHALL ENSHROUD THE CITADEL OF THE
OBSIDIAN CROWN
Chapter 1: The Voyage of the Sorcerer
The war between the Imperium and the allied Vyrgothian Kingdoms
had raged for years. Beginning as minor disputes over border
territories, the conflict had swiftly escalated into a full-scale bloody
war, a vast series of epic campaigns, fervently perpetuated by the
Emperor Koord and the Over-King of Vyrgothia, both eager to smite
their traditional ancestral foes and to win great glory and the adulation
of their people by seizing victory in battle. Recent months had seen
the forces of the Imperium display a staggering degree of tactical
mastery and battle prowess, contemptuously crushing the Vyrgothian
armies in a series of great battles, 'til at last, following the
slaughterous Rout of the Fields of Kai-Vorg, The Empire's finest fighting
force, the famed and far-feared Legion of the Ebon Tiger, stood
unopposed not five day's march from mighty Gul-Kothoth, the
greatest and most ancient fortress-city in all the Vyrgothian kingdoms.
The Legion of the Ebon Tiger could not easily count their numerous
and resounding victories, and their commander, the legendary warlord
Baalthus Vane, made it clear to the Emperor that he was eager to
press on deep into the enemy's lands and seize the prize which
awaited him; the siege and capture of ancient Gul-Kothoth! And yet
the Emperor Koord did not order the Legion to march, for disturbing
information had of late been relayed to him by his spies in the
Vyrgothian Royal Court... Dire rumours abounded that the Vyrgothian
mages had at last discovered the ancient arcane rites which would
unlock the aeons-fettered power of the dread Obsidian Crown, a
fearsome mystical artefact countless thousands of years old, a
black-jewelled circlet believed once to have been borne upon the
immortal brow of the legendary Shadow-King himself! And it was
written in legend, that should the ancient spells of might entwining the
artefact be reawakened, then incredible near limitless ruinous power
would thus be bestowed upon any army carrying the Crown into
battle... Had the mages of Vyrgothia truly ascertained the time-lost
conjurations required to empower the Obsidian Crown, hidden for
centuries deep within the marble vaults of its ebon citadel? Eager to
know the truth, the Emperor dispatched his most powerful sorcerer
across the great Inland Sea to the Court of the Over-King, under the
pretence of offering the terms for the Vyrgothian surrender. He was
bade use all his sorcerous skills to discover the truth... a truth soon
made clear by the disdainful refusal of the Imperium's terms, and the
grimly fearsome message given the sorcerer by Vyrgothia's Master
Wizard, with which to return to the Emperor: "And lo, when the
Imperium marches against Gul-Kothoth, then dark sorceries shall
enshroud the Citadel of the Obsidian Crown..."
The Wizards of Vyrgothia:
Darkly bejewelled circlet of night,
Crown of the Elder King,
Unfettered at last the Trinity of Might,
The sceptre, the sword, and the ring.
The Sorcerer:
I stand upon the oaken planks of this great ship, (the splendid flagship
of the Imperium's navies)
Gazing at moon-gleam dancing on the vast, dark sea...
(And in my mind I behold) black crystals gleaming... ensorcellment!
I am enthralled by this nighted spell...
For I know that the slumbering sorceries
Of the Shadow-King's crown shall soon be reawakened...
And as I return to my emperor (shackled to such woefully grim
tidings),
My spirit is borne upon the leathern wings of a great sorrow...
Chapter 2: The March of the Imperium
The Emperor:
Call forth the Ogre-Mage of the Black Lake
And the Swordmaster of Kyrman'ku,
Let them speak the Words Which Unfetter...
Enshrined for countless centuries, within its darksome citadel,
Five score and ten against the Tiger, (curse) the black crown of the
Shadow-King!
By all the dark gods, I swear I'll not be dethroned!
A seething forest of blackened blades,
A churning sea of ebon war-chariots,
A searing storm of flaming shafts,
All this havoc and more shall I unleash against my foe...
Into battle! The Legion shall march... the fall of Gul-Kothoth is nigh!
The Legion of the Ebon Tiger... six thousand elite warriors of the
Imperium, the pride of the Emperor's forces... Bolstered by heavy
cavalry, and a squadron of deadly scythed chariots... further reinforced
by the Imperial Frontier Army of one hundred thousand highly trained
spearmen and archers... and never has this force met its match in
battle or siege...
Baalthus Vane:
Our banner flies ever glorious, undefeated we stand, steeped in
victory.
The Iron Phalanx, six thousand strong, our ever-honed blades, the
Tiger's gleaming claws.
Pride of the Empire, Scourge of the Vraii,
Masters at Turonium, and Kai-Vorg.
Smiters of the Southern Host, Routers of the Horde, Bane of the
Over-King, we march to war!
And so, the Emperor himself rides to rendezvous with Baalthus Vane,
accompanied by his sorcerous aide. The Legion of the Ebon Tiger
reaches Gul-Kothoth at dusk on the fifth day of their march from the
fields of Kai-Vorg, halting upon the great arid plan which stretches
before the city, the huge dust cloud sent up by their massed arrival
obscuring the dying embers of the setting sun. As the vast army
begins to make camp, arraying their splendid tents and banners, and
assembling their gargantuan siege-wagons, the Emperor stands gazing
at the huge brooding walls and colossal cyclopean gates of the
city-fortress before him, vowing that a torrent of red slaughter shall
befall Gul-Kothoth, regardless of any sorcerous trinkets the
Vyrgothians may possess, and that the Over-King shall pay dearly for
his sublime arrogance. And twelve leagues distant, an army of five
score and ten, bearing the Obsidian Crown, approaches the city...
(To be continued in Chaper 3: The Wizards Do Battle)
9. SUMMONING THE GUARDIANS OF THE ASTRAL GATE
It is written in the ancient legends... that high amidst the
moon-swathed peaks of the great Mountain of Shadows, hides the
aeon-weary threshold of the Astral Gate... the portal from our world,
to beyond...
It is said that one who holds the key and knows the empyreal
incantation may stand within the ancient ring of stones atop the
mountain when the stars are correctly aligned, and unlock the mystic
gate, summoning its sidereal sentinels, thereby attaining ultimate
enlightenment and wisdom unparalleled...
Part 1: THE INVOKING
(The Aspirant Reaches The Summit)
Keepers of the cosmic threshold, my ascent has been fraught with
terror, deathsteeped, storm-hammered.
(These grim mountains are strewn with the bones of the ill-fortuned
dead.)
O' Guardians of the Astral Gate, the spheres blaze at last in trine... I
hold the Key!
(The trinity of stars shall touch the circle of stones once more...)
The incantation of Xuk'ul is known to me, the Orb of Summoning
earned with bloodshed!
(The crystalline key to the Outer Realms and the arcane rite to
empower it are at last mine, Seized at swordpoint from the citadel of
the Black Templars. Enlightenment awaits!)
Many years ago, the mystic Orb of Summoning was seized by the
mysterious Black Templars,a band of sombre, plunder seeking knights
from the kingdoms to the east of the Great Sea. They wrested the
sorcerous gem from the ancient shrine of Azaimedes, where it had lain
hidden for countless centuries, its true power and purpose known only
to the dour shamans who tended to the elder place of worship. It is
said that the tapestry of slaughter woven that day was unparalleled in
its ferocity, and that the marble walls of the ancient shrine were, and
still remain, stained vivid crimson with the spilled blood of the Orb's
keepers.
Ka-kur-ra, I summon thee,
Zul'tekh Azor Vol-thoth.
Mighty Xuk'ul arise,
Kur'oc Gul-Kor, come forth.
I hold aloft the pulsing orb, astral spheres, empower the mystic key.
Ring of elder stones entwined in prophecy, the Rite of Invocation
enthralls thine power.
Replete from drinking deep of darkness, black shapes dancing 'twixt
the stones,
Lucent beams lancing forth from the gleaming, cepheid stars, a
creeping mist ensorcells my tongue...
A great stillness binds the moon-cloaked mountaintop in glooming
shackles...
(High above, the myriad stars gleam bright against the night sky, three
more resplendently bedazzling than the others, their sidereal auras
engulfing the stones...)
And the central stone of the ancient ebon ring begins to pulsate with a
darksome energy...
A thunderous maelstrom ablaze with writhing celestially spawned
power then rends the stygian night...
(A vast shimmering aperture, a vortex of heliacal fire... the pathway to
beyond beckons!)
The Astral Gate is open...
The Guardians have awakened...
XUK'UL: Impudent mortal! You dare summon us? If 'tis elucidation you
seek, you shall have it!
Such searingly terrible stellar majesty... my sanity is lashed like a
vessel on a storm-wracked sea. What price this invocation? Shall the
singing stars claim my very mind?
To countless worlds we travel, riding the endless black seas 'twixt the
stars... the ebon oceans of infinity... flying through a thousand suns,
then watching their light fade, as if it were but a flickering candleflame
snuffed by the wind. As beings of pure energy we become one with
the vastness, transcending the ethereal walls of time, spanning at once
this celestial eternity, and yet existing as no more than a mote of dust
within the vista of its endlessness... Journeying beyond...
The threshold looms, (the star-way between dimensions stretches
before me...)
The Gate To That Which Lies Beyond yawns wide...
Unspeakable forces gibber and pulsate in the Outer Darkness... Elder
horrors dwell here, things which were ancient and revelled in sublime
galactic malevolence when even Xuk'ul was naught but a bloated
cosmic maggot, writhing and suckling at the breast of its amorphous
mother... They-Who-Lurk-And-Breed-In-Limbo... the squamous
sovereigns of the elder void!
Primal terror drags my essence screaming back from the threshold.
The ichor of pestilent tongues clings to me, tendrils probing, the ire of
fiends!
The ravening black worms of madness are devouring the shredded
remnants of sanity as I return to my slumbering steel-clad body... but
as the dream-veil lifts, I feel my limbs transform, flesh becoming cold
stone... enshrouded by a dark mantle of obsidian. And the laughter of
the Guardians echoes, carries upon the winds of this spectral eve.
Such is the price of enlightenment. And so, a new brooding sentinel of
stone joins the others on the nighted mountain top...
Standing silently in the ancient circle of truth, standing... waiting,
Beneath the stars.
10. IN THE RAVEN-HAUNTED FORESTS OF DARKENHOLD, WHERE
SHADOWS REIGN AND THE HUES OF SUNLIGHT NEVER DANCE
The Words of the Forest-King on the Eve of the Nexus:
I am the immortal King of the Deep Woods,
Servitor of the Old Gods of the Forest...
I hear the whispered words of the trees...
Such ancient secrets they sing...
Swaying serpents ring my oak-hewn throne,
Night and shadow are my hunting dogs...
Ravenous, they howl to be unshackled,
That their maws may be glutted with the blood of my foes.
Raven's claw... tooth of the wolf
Ancient trees my brooding sentinels,
Gnarled branches clawing the nighted heavens.
Spirits who dwell in shadow, unfurl thy darkling wings...
Awaken, o' elder creatures of this sylvan realm,
Stalk once more this ebon-cloaked eve.
I hear the whispered words of the trees,
Such ancient secrets they sing...
I stand now at the anvil,
Adamantine hammer in my hand,
In thunder-song the steel I smite,
A clarion heard throughout this land.
(Yawning wide beneath me...) the jaws of the worm...
(hearken, the spell is woven...) the call of the worm...
Raven's claw... tooth of the wolf
Ablaze upon the Altar of Stone,
The Sigil of An-rayuth, the summoning!
Folk of the Mist, Dwellers in Shadow,
The thrice-blessed wand of the Wood-Gods is beckoning!
At the aeon-swathed Shrine of the Oak I kneel,
O' Oracle of the Great Forest, hear me this night...
The Sylvan Oracle Speaks:
The gods of the earth and sky are watching, the circle is nigh on
complete... the nexus is at hand. But hearken... for a new enemy
approaches from the east... an enemy who hide their poisoned blades
behind words of falsehood sweetened with the ichors of carrion, to
bind men's minds with fetters of deceit. Speak now, o' Liege of the
Deep Woods, Master of Darkenhold, and the enemy shall hear you...
The Forest-King:
Yes... I behold now the face of the encroaching foe... Hear my oath!
You, clad in gleaming robes of sparkling saffron, engorged with the
mindless adoration of countless thralls who bend the knee in flaccid
obeisance... 'neath thine vestments hides the rank stench of leprous
corruption! Bring not thine cursed icons into my ancient realm... your
words of untruth shall not be heard here! My steel is honed and
thirsting for your life-ichors... aye, and with my dying breath I'll spit
defiance in your face!
Upon my great throne hewn of ancient oak I brood...
My mantle, the leaves stirred by the whispering of the winds.
The elder gods of the Deep Woods gaze grimly down upon me...
My blood courses through the trees and the earth...
And I watch in silence, ebon-eyed and raven-winged.
From every bough of my kingdom...
The Lament of the Trees:
Can you not remember? Have you forgotten the magic?
Sing to us your spells once more, and the ancient forest shall dance to
your words...
The Forest-King:
I stand now at the anvil,
Adamantine hammer in my hand,
In thunder-song the steel I smite,
A clarion heard throughout this land.
Can you not see the coils of the worm all about you?
Can you not hear the writhing of the worm beneath you?
Can you not scent the breath of the worm riding the wind?
Can you not touch the skin of the worm in all that surrounds you?
Can you not taste the ichors of the worm upon your tongue?
Do dreams of the worm not haunt your slumber?
The Forest-King:
I hear the whispered words of the trees,
Such ancient secrets they sing...
11. AT THE ALTAR OF THE DREAMING GODS (Epilogue)
Come, dark night... deep night,
Sweep away the fading embers of the cruel sun,
Let me at last dream 'neath the moon's sweet light,
For the quest is over, and the long day's done...
(Translation of glyphs discovered carved into the surface of the
mysterious Black Altar Stone.)
Lyrics in plain text format
