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When Rides The Scion Of The Storms

[Dover, England: September 1594 (the recollections of a war-weary mariner)]

Hearken boy; for I would tell thee a tale before we set sail for the Bay of

Biscay on the morrow. I was not always called by this name, you know... To

you, I am Caleb Blackthorne, battle-scarred master of an English galleon,

survivor of a score of sea-fights, cheater of the notched blades of many an

over ambitious Spanish pirate... the Scourge of Medina Sedonia! But to many

others over the countless centuries since my first birth, I have been known by

a host of other names... so many that even I begin to forget all but the ones

distinguished by the most vivid deeds... for I hide a wondrous secret, boy...

a secret some would call a blessing, but which others would deem a grim curse.

Aye, it all began a very long time ago...

Memories of death and life...

For countless thousands of centuries I have walked the earth...

I have seen endless battle,

And untold centuries of slaughter.

I am reborn once more!

The same grim spirit once again given flesh...

O' to be ravished by the seductress death...

[The Scion of the Storms:]

Dethroned 'ere Atlantis fell, haunted by a dark queen's curse,

My son's soul shackled by this spell of endless death and grim rebirth.

Fly, o' skyborne steed of Lyonesse, ride the tempest's wings,

I am the scion of the vengeful skies, a god to warriors and kings!

[Reflections on lifetimes of carnage:]

I have been slain by Roman gladius,

And by Norman spear dealt a mortal wound,

The threads of my ensorcelled destiny

Endlessly woven on some unknown cosmic loom.

I have lost my life to longbow shafts

Fighting for the English crown,

And mayhap I'll end this marinerc


When Rides The Scion Of The Storms / Bal-Sagoth

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