[ALTARUS:]</i> Gaze deep into the mists with your spirit-eyes, Xerxes... look far,
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and tell me what you see.
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[XERXES:]</i> I see a land far to the north... a vast empire of dark endless moors
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and snow-crowned mountains... a land of brooding citadels and warrior-kings
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who hail to grim gods.
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[ALTARUS:]</i> Look well, Xerxes, for enlightenment hides within the fog-swathed
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vales of 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
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of dethronement... Impending dread thus prophesized! In a dream I was bade
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ride the argent-eyed unicorn to the Ring of Stones... There a torrent of
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viscid slime assailed me, as pipes and horns sang the clarion of my
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dissolution... And the usurpation of my ancient azure throne. Assassins stalk
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the nighted halls of my palace... poisoned blades and chalices surround me.
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I thirsted for a balm, but my thirst was slaked by an envenomed draught. My
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swordarm shackled by tendrils of sloth... enthralled by the chasmed gloom...
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Borne upon wings of labyrinthine dread... I awaken! I shall seek the counsel
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of the sorcerer, keeper of the ancient scrolls of wisdom, and the Crystals of
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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
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are destined to wield a great dark power. Drink deep of the potions of the
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apothecary, for upon thee now I bestow a shard of the mystic Crystal of
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Mera... sacred artefact of the At lantean mages, won in battle by our legions.
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My liege, the Crystal of Mera shall unveil the truth lurking hidden in thy
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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
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sundered dead... Gorge the earth with flesh darkened with the claw and fang of
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war... rent open the 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
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ancient threat is ranged against me. Hearken, the clarion is upon the winds,
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now the call to arms is upon us all, Grim warriors, take up thy spears and
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hone thy gleaming swords. Archers, string thy bows, brave knights, saddle the
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steeds of war, The glory of battle is nigh at last, our banner shall fly this
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day in victory!
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My warriors, a legacy shall this day be wrought by our blades, decreed by
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the gods, 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
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legions and shimmering swords. I, the Bane of the Atlantean Kings, the Scourge
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of Lemuria, Archfoe of the Immortals of Ultima Thule, shall Crush you! I shall
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visit a thousand plagues upo n your realm, and wreak untold havoc and bloody
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carnage until I have your throne... and your soul!
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[ALTARUS:]</i> And thus, flanked by the splendour of azure banners, a vast army
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marched forth from the great walls of the Imperial City of Hyperborea, and at
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the forefront of the mighty legions, astride an ebon war-stallion, rode the
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king, sunlight glinting up on his splendid armour... compelled by dreams, and
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guided by the Crystal of Mera...
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[XERXES:]</i> Where? Where did the king's path take him?
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[ALTARUS:]</i> The king was compelled to lead his forces to the shadow-haunted
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Mountains of the Dead, a grim and brooding place steeped in dark and ancient
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legendry. Alone he rode into the gaping maw of a huge cave hewn into the side
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of the tallest mountain co untless ages past by unknown hands. For three full
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days and nights he did not emerge from the cave... until, at last, he rode
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forth from the eldritch mountain once more, a terrible knowledge shadowed in
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his icy eyes, and bearing in his gauntleted fist a huge black sword, a
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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
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| searingly hone |
