Foreword Lyrics

Langsyne, a king there was... He was sublime and
lionesque-redoubted. The numerous folks were
trepidating before his lurid face and spear-hand, held
the vasty empire by the harsh reins. But the destiny's
path of every mortal is leading inevitably to the vital
shears' blade. And eventually The Silver-haired Queen
came to the haughty king for her dire tribute. A lot of
water has passed under the bridge of time thenceforth,
but...
After one thousand and four hundred summers and winters
the spirit of the ancient agadic king of Goths is
relived to rule the night, avenge, love, war and do
one's will, somebody who won't have the mundane law of
life's circle did cast into the timeless depth of
reincarnations in low forms, condign for his nefarious
piacles while alive. The spirit of Germanareh, thus he
hight by mother aborning on the faith of wisewoman's advice, hath stood to linger on the earth after
agonizing death, without pacation that await for all
men. Belike Providence (or Darkness, itself) made the
other fate for king, mayhap for castigation or
something yet, I don't know. His spirit was asomatous,
feeble and bedrid by centuries of sufferings, unknown
for the living human thankfully. He couldn't create or
destroy. The borders of shade of mountain and forest,
where the body of Germanareh was buried, was the bound
which embinded him like wife to husband. Whilom fierce
spirit of great warrior, conqueror, the bane of Europe
pined and cherished no hope for the redemption by the
grace of God, but once he has felt the approach of some
people, there were the coven of witches.
They... though, no, let our tensons open all to you...

"Welcome to this graven legend!"

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