Bal-Sagoth - A Black Moon Broods Over Lemuria (CD, Album) download full album zip cd mp3 vinyl flac
Update location. Learn more. Report incorrect product information. Walmart Add to list. Add to registry. Gifting note: Ships in the manufacturer's original packaging, which may reveal the contents.
About This Item. We aim to show you accurate product information. Manufacturers, suppliers and others provide what you see here, and we have not verified it.
See our disclaimer. Hatheg Kla 2. Dreaming of Atlantean Spires 3. Spellcraft and Moonfire Beyond the Citadel of Frosts 4. Enthroned in the Temple of the Serpent Kings 6. Shadows 'Neath the Black Pyramid 7. Witch-Storm 8. While the album does seem to get lost in itself here and there, it nonetheless accomplishes what it set out to do and does it with style. It's dark, gritty retelling of the popularly known but little understood tales of Lemuria and the Atlantean legends gives a perfect medium through which to create furious melodies and soaring fantasy themed metal.
Any with an interest in blackened keyboard laden death metal should look into Bal-Sagoth's first effort, A Black Moon Broods Over Lemuriawith little apprehension. Rank: 0 for Tweet Recent reviews by this author.
Oneohtrix Point Never Rifts. Sweet Trip Velocity : Design : Comfort. Aux Field Imaginable Layers. Panabrite Disintegrating Landscape. Recondite Iffy. Starfire Burning Upon the. Atlantis Ascendant. Fear Inoculum. Im Wald. Eden In Reverse. On 2 Music Lists. Add a Comment. Hyperion Emeritus July 10th Comments. Dryden July 10th Comments. Voivod Staff Reviewer July 11th Comments. Dryden July 11th Comments.
July 11th Comments. Passname April 20th Comments. Witchfire, black citadel, frost-shrouded steel, moon-veiled spell.
The skyqueen of the dead rides forth, black storm-borne steeds, their flanks anointed by immortal blood, Hark to the striking of the winds, the moon burns black as slaughter reigns.
Bright fires agleam through winter's night, Dark spells whispered on the winds, The trees enrob'd in veils of frost, Moonfire entwines the Eye of Khthon. From the moon-swathed depths of winter-mists, enchantress, she-who-walks-the-night-alone, Sloe-eyed shape-shifting succubus, silken veils and slime-smeared flesh.
Storm-Witch, hearken this night, hone this black blade with sorcery, Battle-spells annoint my flesh, let blood and steel be my glory. Elder tongues encarved in sinistrous slime-flecked stone, The Obsidian Tower broods 'neath the moon, Winged fiends descend from storm-raught skies, Black Ring, key to the Shadow Gate, aglow with eldritch spells. Forged in witchfire, envenomed steel, ensorcelled blade, blood-ravening, Ebon demon's tooth, the bane of Kings, red rain of slaughter, prow of blood.
The clarion call of battle sounds, iron gleams in baleful flame, Slaughter shines from misted eyes, storm-forged blade drink deep. Stench of carnage fires my blood, my bride of steel sings in my hand, Corpse-mounds piled to touch the sky, black fury enshroud me!
Bleed for the gods of war! Flesh to sate the worms! By this sword I rule! Dreadful fall of slaughter, raw scent of fresh-spilled blood, Crimson rain falls from the sky, ravens ride the storm. Black cloud of arrows, red storm of swords, dark wave of carnage By blood and steel I rule! The Topaz Throne of Kings is crack'd, eon-veiled, enrob'd in black, Ensorcelled blade glimmers sunset's fire, saga-spinner, take up thy lyre.
Ten thousand spear-points gleaming bright, sharp-honed steel in pale dawn's light, Grim-eyed legions wait brooding, 'neath the banner of the Serpent-King. Tales are told to me now in dreams, shadowed lyre strings, and sweet whisperings The grim and glorious battles of warrior kings, when the earth ran red with the blood of the slainAnd the shining realm of Valusia Carried upon the sweet night winds, piercing the veil of my delirium, I embrace the rapturous scent of black lotus.
I hear the lament of the Immortals Black winds whispering 'cross the fens, In eldritch coils jewelled and gleaming spires entwined, Enraptured by the moon's sweet spells, 'gainst the skies of bleak and brooding winter blackly etched. The topaz throne of kings is crack'd, eon-veiled enrob'd in black, Ensorcelled blade glimmers sunset's fire, saga-spinner, take up thy lyre. Thus spake the Antediluvean Scrolls. As the twilight fades, so night casts its black mantle upon the world.
The road into darkness is long, and its route perilous. Who amongst us has fortitude enough to take the first steps towards enlightenment? Who amongst us dares tread the darkling path to the Deep Halls, to be rebirthed and remade? You will yet discover what I have always known The claws of the blessed and the damned reach far. 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!
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 Thinking the barbaric tribesmen little threat, the Witch-Queen intends a largely unopposed march through their lands to strike at the wealthy and fertile realms beyond the Mountain Kingdoms to the west 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 Album) league she has dared venture into 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 battle-spells 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 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 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, Bal-Sagoth - A Black Moon Broods Over Lemuria (CD, 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 Bal-Sagoth - A Black Moon Broods Over Lemuria (CD and seize the banner of Mytos-K'unn Bright moon, gleam Album) 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 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 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 A maelstrom of crimson fire burns above us 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 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 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 These scrolls speak disturbingly of visitations to our earth by creatures from a terrible place known as the Black Galaxy And yet, the scrolls also speak of the Others, known by some ancient, long-dead tribes as the Travelling Ones 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 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 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 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 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 For how long had we travelled?
The memory grows dim, lost in the cruel, searing storm-winds. And now, at last 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 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 silver-clad legions to the blood-swathed embrace of epic battle? The glory of untold thousands of years past The frozen eyes of immortal kings watch me 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 Album) void All is now as was foretold in prophecy, written in the very ether of empyreal eternity The celestial alignment is night 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 mind-searing meaning at last becomes known to me 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 Aye, for generations they have plotted their actions, and I was the key to this plot, chosen from birth for this fated journey 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 I am destined to reign forever Above, the bright winter's moon emerges from 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 Chapter 1: 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 I thirsted for a balm, but my thirst was slaked by an envenomed draught. My swordarm shackled by tendrils of sloth 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 Drink deep of the potions of the apothecary, for upon thee now I bestow a shard of the mystic Crystal of Mera 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 The King: The Crystal illumines dark secrets, the truth is known 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 Hyperborea, march against me with your splendid legions and shimmering swords. I shall visit a thousand plagues upon your realm, and wreak untold havoc and bloody carnage until I have your throne Chapter 2: The Immortal's Legacy 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 Where did the king's path take him?
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 Fearsome sorcerous power crackled within the yard of black steel, dancing upon its searingly honed, glyph-scored blade 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 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 This was the immortal's final, most powerful spell 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! Did the king prevail? That tale shall have to wait 'til another day 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 The Sorcerer: I stand upon the oaken planks of this great ship the splendid flagship of the Imperium's naviesgazing at moon-gleam dancing on the vast, dark sea And in my mind I behold black crystals gleaming I am enthralled by this nighted spell And as I return to my emperor shackled to such woefully grim tidingsmy spirit is borne upon the leathern wings of a great sorrow 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 Legion of the Ebon Tiger Bolstered by heavy cavalry, and a squadron of deadly scythed chariots 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. 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 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 Bal-Sagoth - A Black Moon Broods Over Lemuria (CD the stars are correctly aligned, and unlock the mystic gate, summoning its sidereal sentinels, thereby attaining ultimate enlightenment and wisdom unparalleled 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 A thunderous maelstrom ablaze with writhing celestially spawned power then rends the stygian night The Astral Gate is open The Guardians have awakened You dare summon us?
If 'tis elucidation you seek, you shall have it! Such searingly terrible stellar majesty What price this invocation? Shall the singing stars claim my very mind?
Part 2: The Journeying To countless worlds we travel, riding the endless black seas 'twixt the stars 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 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 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 And the laughter of the Guardians echoes, carried 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 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 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 Hearken, the spell is woven The Sylvan Oracle Speaks: The gods of the earth and sky are watching, the circle is nigh on complete But hearken 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 Bring not thine cursed icons into my ancient realm My steel is honed and thirsting for your life-ichors Upon my great throne hewn of ancient oak I brood My mantle, the leaves stirred by the whispering of the wind.
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.
Song of the Wood Wizard: 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 Translation of glyphs discovered carved into the surface of the mysterious Black Altar Stone. Entwine us with great battle magic 'til we stand knee-deep in gore, And by all the gods, we'll ride to where the fray rages the thickest!
The Exultation of Battle Red-Tooth crackles with searing spectral energy. Aye, emperors and kings shall perish beneath my blade! The head of the Eastern Chieftan adorns my spear I've a throne to usurp! I swear the ireful edge of dwarf-forged steel shall meet all who dare stand against me! My destiny awaits I shall carve my path in carnage, and inscribe my saga upon the scrolls of legendry in the spilled blood of slaughtered kings! And the crows shall feast upon the eyes of the slain!
The final dolmen of the Dark Moors is mysteriously missing, believed removed thousands of years ago by troll war-bands as a trophy of battle My scramasax is red stained with the blood of many Mercian warriorsThe ravens are on the wing, By Offa's decree I am an outlaw, Branded wolfshead by my own king. The orm-garth awaits me, darkly astir with ophidian malice The ravens are on the wing! Ash for our spear-hafts, Yew for our bow-staves, Oak for our deck planks, Oak and elder our shields.
Hail, o' great liege of the ancient woods, ruler of the deepest forest I give you my hail, I give you my blood, I give you my life, O' sylvan liege. My life bleeds forth unto the earth from many deep and dire woundsTo slake your roots, great old king Ten leagues ride on lathered steed, Gold in hand to a sword-for-hire, A blood-eagle carved by Saxon steel, And two score slain earns royal ire.
Gwynedd lies two days westwards, Still further south, the weregeld calls. Mayhap with All-Father Woden's favour, My deeds may yet inspire the skalds. Litha's moon gleams high o'er the tallest oak, Ancient king in this sylvan court of elm, ash and yew, The wood-spirits watch from gnarled bough and bole, As I pull two Mercian shafts from my bloodied thews.
Beneath the oak, I rest, bone weary, Thirsting for a horn of ale or jug of mead, And yet how could a heathen man wish for any more, Than the healing balms of English trees?
I have traversed the endless stars, and journeyed to a myriad galaxies The dimensional gates of the multiverse are mine to voyage effortlessly beyond, Cosmic infinity is naught to one such as I I am as one with celestial eternity Clad in gleaming pentlandite armour, on a whim I may reshape entire worlds, Or extinguish the blazing light of a sun I have seen demons lick your ivory hands, And watched you ride naked upon the backs of fire-dragons Your eyes sparkle clear as hoar-frost, And yet they are thrice as devoid of warmth.
Wielding this power cosmic, the omniverse is mine to conquer! Our progency shall rule the very cosmos itself! Arcane power lances from my fingertips, Life withers before my baleful gaze. The proud citadels of great antediluvian empires Have been razed to the ground by my zircon blade.
Your invocations unleashed the great worm Which compelled the devouring seas to Atlantis Riding the screaming crest of fettered ions, I shall bring my crystalline chaos where order reigns! Return with me Rule with me The Galactic Nexus has empowered me I am gloriously, eternally omnipotent! And as a god I shall return to the Praesidium of Ys! Countless secrets will be unlocked for you, and great enlightenment shall be yours. I see the massing forces, the battle is imminent!
How splendid the Imperial Army looks as it fronts the foe In to the fray! Demonstrate unforgettably the art of Hyperborean warcraft! Spearmen, form into Omega Phalanx. Archers, notch arrows, prepare to loose. Warriors, stand ready Sound the clarion! Hearken, sons of the glorious Empire
Voiceless Screaming - X* - Jealousy (Cassette, Album), Forstædernes Engel, Black Cat - Janet* - Live In Hawaii (DVD), The Acquaintance Ripens - Augusta Huiell Seaman - The Slipper Point Mystery (File), Who Said The World Was Fair? - Hall & Oates* - Greatest Hits (CD), The Robots (Original Electro Version) - Philip D* - The Robots (Vinyl), Only A Man - Angelica (6) - Angelica (Cassette, Album), Ponorková Nemoc - Bez Ladu A Skladu - Xmetov (CD, Album), Crisis - Dmente Común - La Base Del Poder (CD, Album), Terminus - Sons Of Selina - Terminus (CD), Camerateando III - Camerata Punta Del Este - Treintangos (CD), The Club (Percappella Mix)
Published in Classic Rock