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