The Sombre Alchemist and The Cleric Prince
Prelude / I : Orcadian Dream
The smoke is darkening the sky, the city is in ruins. The air smells like putrefaction, the flesh is naked and bloody. The cleric prince who just came from his exile to the northern peninsula of the kingdom is daydreaming about the wind and the salty water of the coast where he was enjoying a peaceful retreat. This battle left a bitter taste in his mouth and his ears were a bit numb. All of a sudden, his brother in arms raised him up and put him on his saddle and escaped the grasp of the invaders. He closed his eyes, feeling the sea on his toes and wondered if he made the right choice by coming back.
The monastery was left untouched by the arrival of the invaders. The grass was still green and the monks were still busy. The remainder of Prince Jacob's army was scattered through the location, resting. As he was discussing with the abbot, Ola, his general appeared to let him know that a guest arrived from the capital to see him. He went to the courtyard where Micael, his most valiant fighter was sharpening his battleaxe. A frail man was waiting, Jacob then recognized Sir Albert Witchfinder, a former knight now at the service of the state. He was the man who gave him the symbol for his coat of arms : a tower with a circular dome. When the prince looked at him, his eyes were livid and he said something softly :
"Expelled
from the garden – hard is the burden , As the tyrant from the past
returns "
The
nature of the enemy wasn't quite clear yet, but this omen truly
confirmed the return of the Sombre Alchemist Dorrian. As he finished
his message, Sir Witchfinder fell to the ground, exhausted by his
fast travel. It appears that the dark lord took possession of the
capital city, Wardenclyff. Dorrian, the sorcerer and leader of The
Doomsday Cult was once a prominent member of the state before his
dark arts' inclination appeared and took over his mind. In light of
this new information, the prince looked at his 2 most trusted men and
they knew they had to ride to the capital.
Riding on the devastated field, the sound of the horses was something almost joyful and sad at the same time. The galloping of the hooves evoking the urgency of confrontation and the grin you have before taking the life of a man. Summoning the old bards of yesteryear, the riders are asking favors to the deities named Jennings, Iommi or even Gabriel Fischer. While the men are tempted to think about the Dying Bride and letting romantic emotions flow through them, they prefer to sing in a gravely voice full of harshness to hunt the pain.
The destroyed city was still burning 1 week after its destruction and at its stone wall border, a troop was concealed. Led by the famous war chief of Dorrian, Nicklas Terror, well known for his heavy sword blows and his dark runemagic powers. While Jacob, Micael and Ola can compete with his strength, they prefer a fair and disciplined combat, some would say that they prefer to dance.
The nostrils of the horses were fuming, waiting for something tragic to happen. Finally, the 2 cavalries charged into eachothers. Bursts of pure energy and fire were flowing across the field. Rapidly, some of the soldiers were fighting on the ground. Micael attacked Nicklas Terror with his hammer. The blows were fast, you could hear the frenetic drumming of the god of death beating down the petty souls of mortals. Terror's sword finally managed to penetrate Micael's armor, the fighter still on his legs drove off in his ranks bleeding. The cleric prince saw the situation and reached his wounded friend in time to save him. Meanwhile,Terror barely escaped with his life at the hands of Ola, the bald warlord and his longsword. The border was then cleared and the road to the capital accessible !
Riding on the devastated field, the sound of the horses was something almost joyful and sad at the same time. The galloping of the hooves evoking the urgency of confrontation and the grin you have before taking the life of a man. Summoning the old bards of yesteryear, the riders are asking favors to the deities named Jennings, Iommi or even Gabriel Fischer. While the men are tempted to think about the Dying Bride and letting romantic emotions flow through them, they prefer to sing in a gravely voice full of harshness to hunt the pain.
The destroyed city was still burning 1 week after its destruction and at its stone wall border, a troop was concealed. Led by the famous war chief of Dorrian, Nicklas Terror, well known for his heavy sword blows and his dark runemagic powers. While Jacob, Micael and Ola can compete with his strength, they prefer a fair and disciplined combat, some would say that they prefer to dance.
The nostrils of the horses were fuming, waiting for something tragic to happen. Finally, the 2 cavalries charged into eachothers. Bursts of pure energy and fire were flowing across the field. Rapidly, some of the soldiers were fighting on the ground. Micael attacked Nicklas Terror with his hammer. The blows were fast, you could hear the frenetic drumming of the god of death beating down the petty souls of mortals. Terror's sword finally managed to penetrate Micael's armor, the fighter still on his legs drove off in his ranks bleeding. The cleric prince saw the situation and reached his wounded friend in time to save him. Meanwhile,Terror barely escaped with his life at the hands of Ola, the bald warlord and his longsword. The border was then cleared and the road to the capital accessible !
II : Behind the Shadow of the Goat
The
steps of the palace were getting slippery with all the blood of the
dead capital soldiers. The Sombre Alchemist, a tall white man wearing
an owl cowl hiding his straight long black hair was walking towards
the grand building. His apostles armed with the blue light were
creating a way for him. The palace of fallen majesty was now
defenseless. The enormous door of the court room opened, the noblemen
who were hiding in the safest room of the kingdom were rapidly
surrounded by the apostles.
The
king, enthralled by fear, was thrown on the clear marble floor now
cluttered by some of the most adventurous noble warriors. The
imposing lion sculpture in the middle of the court started to bleed
at the touch of Dorrian. Some horns appeared on its solid scalp, the
figure of the sculpted animal changed to the one of a morbid goat. A
mixture of boiling blood and vomit engulfed the poor king. After a
brief look at the macabre scene, the sombre alchemist started to sing
this verse in his peculiar voice, a voice you were able to hear at
night if you were near his infernal cathedral. A clean, albeit weird
voice that is not melodic but rather grave and unnatural.
"Behind
the shadow of the goat / Here comes the wrath of the obscure
Behind the shadow of the goat / They bring death onto the herd"
Behind the shadow of the goat / They bring death onto the herd"
The
blood coming from the eyes of the statue was dripping on the floors.
The alchemist reached a scroll from his inside pockets, he started to
sing the incantation written on this old parchment. Hastily, loud
sound vibrations were now emanating from the statue. A mid paced buzz
gorged with darkness was saluting the scared crowd. It's a groovy
summon captivating the minds of the weak with its occult identity.
The melodies are slow while strangely memorable. Despite being
prisoners of The Doomsday Cult, some nicely-dressed men were carried
away with the tempo.
The apostles, blissfully joyous in a circle around the statue, were unleashing hoarse verses in honor of the new regime. The snarls were stopping sometimes to let the dark lord sing his cleaner incantation. Hence, on this day,the souls of the nobility were tainted by a new caliginous devotion.
The apostles, blissfully joyous in a circle around the statue, were unleashing hoarse verses in honor of the new regime. The snarls were stopping sometimes to let the dark lord sing his cleaner incantation. Hence, on this day,the souls of the nobility were tainted by a new caliginous devotion.
''They
bring you the plague – planting the seed – for your
destruction''As
the Alchemist's army was ready to let loose throughout the kingdom,
the tyrant removed his owl cowl, his deed was done.
III : Macroshift
Jacob
the cleric was at the head of his cavalry when he entered the
capital. Surprisingly defenseless, the prince entered under the
adulation of the possessed population, gullible and touched by the
sudden affection, he made his way to the fallen palace where his dead
father was now resting. Alongside the streets, many musicians were playing an entrancing
welcoming, the lead melody was mournful and sad not unlike the current
atmosphere in the kingdom.
On the porch of the palace, Dorrian was waiting for him with the king's crown in his hands. Jacob led the slow procession through the city. He ordered his men to wait up while he climbed the stairs leading to the palace's entry. The dark loud sang this in a high clean voice :
On the porch of the palace, Dorrian was waiting for him with the king's crown in his hands. Jacob led the slow procession through the city. He ordered his men to wait up while he climbed the stairs leading to the palace's entry. The dark loud sang this in a high clean voice :
"See
– the prince arrives
Leave – the past to die
Meet – his paradise
Earth – shall be cleansed"
Leave – the past to die
Meet – his paradise
Earth – shall be cleansed"
The
prince removed his helm and knelt before the alchemist, the golden
crown now laying in the fair hair of the fallen cleric was bright
like the moon. When the gaze of Dorrian met the one of his accomplice, a loud blast was heard from the ranks as the pummeling
sound of death made his way through the city. The deceiving liege
lord, with a simple gesture, ordered the execution of the resistance,
his former comrades. Ola, the warlord fell to his knees, facing his
death to the hands of the esoteric apostles while Micael tried to flew, in vain. The deep slow melody
continued during the bloodbath, the lamentations were silent as the
new king, devoured by darkness was enjoying the spectacle. The order
has ended, the chaos has taken its place.
''Ignite
me – The wings of death arise / Release me – Unleash the
Macroshift ''
Were
the words written in the letter Jacob received from the Sombre
Alchemist.
http://wardenclyffe.bandcamp.com/
http://wardenclyffe.bandcamp.com/
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