[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 At lantean 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 upo n 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 up on 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 co untless 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 li fe-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,  u  ntil  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 bl ade'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 wie lder...

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...



[Lyrics: Byron]

[Music: Jonny Maudling]