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Bal Sagoth lyrics

Album: Starfire Burning upon the Ice-Veiled throne of Ultima Thule [1997]

 02  To Dethrone The Witch-Queen Of Mytos K'unn (The Legend Of The Battle Of Blackhelm Vale)
 03  As The Vortex Illumines The Crystalline Walls Of Kor-Avul-Thaa
 04  Starfire Burning Upon The Ice-Veiled Throne Of Ultima Thule
 05  Journey To The Isle Of Mists (Over The Moonless Depths Of Night-Dark Seas)
 06  The Splendour Of A Thousand Swords Gleaming Beneath The Blazon Of The Hyperborean Empire
 07  And Lo, When The Imperium Marches Against Gul-Kothoth, Then Dark Sorceries Shall Enshroud The Citadel Of The Obsidian Crown
 08  Summoning The Guardians Of The Astral Gate
 09  In The Raven-Haunted Forests Of Darkenhold, Where Shadows Reign And The Hues Of Sunlight Never Dance
all Bal Sagoth lyrics

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

Lyrics: Byron
Music: Jonny Maudlingback to top
To Dethrone The Witch-Queen Of Mytos K'unn (The Legend Of The Battle Of Blackhelm Vale)
The Chronicles of War:
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!

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.

Lyrics: Byron
Music: Jonny Maudlingback to top
As The Vortex Illumines The Crystalline Walls Of Kor-Avul-Thaa
Mortal 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
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:

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

Lyrics: Byron
Music: Jonny and Chris Maudlingback to top
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...

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!

Lyrics: Byron
Music: Chris and Jonny Maudlingback to top
Journey To The Isle Of Mists (Over The Moonless Depths Of Night-Dark Seas)
The Log of the Northern Mariner:

Lyrics: Byron
Music: Jonny Maudlingback to top
The Splendour Of A Thousand Swords Gleaming Beneath The Blazon Of The Hyperborean Empire
Gaze deep into the mists with your spirit-eyes, Xerxes... look far, and tell me what you see.
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.
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!

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...
Where? Where did the king's path take him?

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

Then there looms such a cataclysmic battle!
And so, from his Black Citadel,
the Chaos-liege did send forth his Horde of Wraiths to engage the army of 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!

The outcome, master... who left the field victorious? Did the king prevail?
The mists begin to disperse... for now, the images fade.
That tale shall have to wait 'til another day...

Lyrics: Byron
Music: Jonny Maudlingback to top
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 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!
(To be continued in Chaper 3: The Wizards Do Battle)

Lyrics: Byron
Music: Jonny and Chris Maudlingback to top
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...

(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

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...

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.

Lyrics: Byron
Music: Jonny Maudlingback to top
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

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...

Lyrics: Byron
Music: Jonny and Chris Maudlingback to top
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: Byron
Music: Jonny Maudlingback to top
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