1. |
A Great Stirring
02:50
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And so begins the pounding of drums. Leathern skins dance and ring, calling to life that dread chorus of the Deep Places of the world - for the ringing of unfathomable trumpets to shake the land once more.
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2. |
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Bottomless, wild-eyed, yellow-toothed, gaunt. A hunger to gnaw down the roots of mountains and drink up the seas, to carry off each beast of the land and gnash its teeth at that carefree sky lying so boldly beyond reach. Root and stone and tooth and bone: all cry out at the insatiable dust in their bellies. And so hunger without cease lopes through dark hills and dwindling twilight, shepherd's finest in the crook of each arm.
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3. |
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Warhorn calls hang on the mist like cloying geists, taunting us to move on should we dare. Should we deem it possible to face what lies beyond the river. The bridge is narrow, the way is dark, and just beyond the Deepwoods loom - grim and leering. Men and horses alike balk at some unseen foulness therein... but surely those are just stones beneath the bridge?
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4. |
Peikon Luola
04:50
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Kaarnan kansa suon suojassa
Sammalen syömä, sulkavan surma
Viherkiven väki, hallan halkeamat
Soinnut suloiset, saloilla soivat
Vaan luolassa peikon
kaikuu kivi, hönkii harmaja henki,
koloissa kumajavissa
Keltahammas, kelojen kantaja,
juurien jäytäjä, likainen lanko
Syvämetsän syventäjä,
sävelten syöjä
Luuhuilut laulaa
luolassa peikon
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5. |
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Lo, I hear its breathing
Though I see not where it lies
As stony weight of darkness
Descends upon my eyes
Stumble in root, in bramble in briar
As the Deepwoods' chorus chants
I tumble in thorn and fœtid mire
As the Deepwoods' terrors advance
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6. |
Moss Laden and Shambling
07:19
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I spied it across the clearing, and I thought it not alive
'til the creaking roots and tumbling vines sent shivers down my spine
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7. |
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Lichens cling and mosses encloak the great stones betwixt the pines. Their granite slopes soar to rest 'neath the sighing needles, their stalwart bases crowd the roots below. Tumbled cromlechs sprawling, a manadnock of crumbling forms. Clamb'ring o'er crags and crooks, ferny clods break free. And as I tread, I can help not but muse - that under mossy patina lies, a visage gazing upon me.
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8. |
Gahanka
01:33
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"Yes, it's the gahanka, the troll war beat," said Vimes. "They say that within ten minutes of hearing it, you're dead." Behind Pessimal, Detritus grinned, the torchlight turning his diamond teeth into rubies.
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9. |
Drums in the Deepwood
03:30
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Unfettered rollick and unrivaled pandemonium, cacophonic revelers contort and cackle. The inky black silhouettes casting ghoulish shadows of atavistic reproach and chthonic desire deep into the onlooking night. Where the flickering flames and jubilant forms of the Deepwood are etched into the glassy eyes of each awestruck onlooker.
Under the thunder of drums the Deepwood rears and looms. For in the face of such ravenous majesty, what can one do but watch?
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Elyvilon
Memories and melodies gathered from a lifelong sojourn on the path of the Questing Soul.
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