Sacred Rites & Black Magick
(<em>Instrumental</em>)
Submitted by NecroLord — Aug 14, 2026
For many a year I've longed for the will to see Through the eyes of the gods that have dwelled upon this earth aeons long before me For the path that leads to greatness and for the insight you seek To be cleansed of this earthly woe and amongst the free By beacons of steel I'm bound, a far altered state of mind Wandering the dreams of knowledge great and old Is this the evolution, the ascension you seek? For it's long been a prison of mine, a distorted reality Experimentation of the mind, of the body and soul An ancient sacrificial rite to the old Internal fulmination of the grand deceivers To seek the ones whom bare my bitter blame I carry this flame of hatred and seek my rightful vengeance For the ones whom walk this mournful plain
Submitted by NecroLord — Jun 25, 2026
(<em>Instrumental</em>)
Submitted by NecroLord — Aug 14, 2026
Born from the ancient scaled race long begone A sorcery for the soul fortified by crystal magic, I behold To bend and shape the essence of life itself Symbolizes the true nature of a consummate sorcerer Fingers adorned by the dragons of azure stone Adrift the long dark halls of the dragon school To harvest the eternal power of the mind and soul is the knowledge it takes to gain, and be able to bellow the strength and bear the Twin Faces of the Dragon To bend and shape the essence of life itself Symbolizes the true nature of the sorcerer The dragon, the crystal, and the sorcery Intertwined by the very fabrics of reality To bear this mastery is unfathomably empowerful To channel the power of crystal rage To bend and shape the essence of life itself Symbolizes the true nature of the sorcerer
Submitted by NecroLord — Aug 14, 2026
(<em>Instrumental</em>)
Submitted by NecroLord — Aug 14, 2026
Awakening from a slumber within this barren plain a landscape of my dreams so cold Brought on by the blood of the old that ere the stranger forgave and in my veins it longingly holds Created atop the hillside stood the waning hunter's domain where adorned were the weapons of war Called on by the hunt and the brooding for blood and in the dream I awaited longing for more, "o' Great One look down upon thee and see and relinquish unto me your eternal mercy." Hunter, who holds in awe the abyss You were never meant to be a subject unto me For I would swing this scythe once again To offer an end to your nightmare But please, bring an end to mine For I am Entranced Within the Moon Presence "O' how this night is near its end And now I will show you mercy You will die, forget this eternal dream and awake under the morning sun." Under the morning sun A forgotten eternal dream By eternal nightmares confound For I am Entranced Within the Moon Presence Through vast and hellish landscapes I tread this dreadful plain and by the blood of the old I'm bound To free the ancient watcher whom claims a wooden throne and call upon the slumbering one
Submitted by NecroLord — Aug 14, 2026
(<em>Instrumental</em>)
Submitted by NecroLord — Aug 14, 2026
Alone inside this cabin home under dark and moonless skies In a sacrament of ancient magick I call upon the night To bring me those for whom the silver blade were bore A ritualistic death By the blood of the feeble Through sacred rites and black magick In rivers of blood and in secrecy I am bound to an order aeons old May my bow long bend to your will, and my blade sing your name, and the hearts of the ones written bleed Whether it snow capped mountains high, or in caverns deep and old, under nights shaded black I will bе For now I walk in the shadow of fear to bring glory to the Drеadful one Can you hear the fainting whispers of a maiden calling out the names of the doomed For when the night wind's gale streams gallantly through the leaves, and high stands a towering moon A ritualistic death By the blood of the feeble Through sacred rites and black magick In rivers of blood and in secrecy I am bound to an order aeons old
Submitted by NecroLord — Jun 25, 2026
(<em>Instrumental</em>)
Submitted by NecroLord — Aug 14, 2026
As the land was ripped and torn Heralds chosen are reborn Bound to protect against the souls of void And return to damnation There to stand against the hidden storm As the Odium servants take their form Should one among them break or bend Live again the Voidbringers They pledged their lives to keep the oathpact To stand against the Dark God's wrath Ten Surges at their command Yet, they are men and the wills of men wear thin One had never had his oath betrayed never broken to escape his pain Now a madman bears his blade Ten Orders Ten Surges Ten Heralds Ten Desolations
Submitted by NecroLord — Aug 14, 2026
(<em>Instrumental</em>)
Submitted by NecroLord — Aug 14, 2026
Deep within the hills of Targoviste midsummer of '62 the Sultan force on horseback towards the Shaded Vlasian Forest rode For the many yearst hat wrought today brings forth vengeance on Vladya Tepes But little did the mulish lord know that across the River awaited The wrath of the Prince of House Dracul For two long weeks in the Vlasian shade torment reigned under Wallachian blades In the Shaded Vlasian Forest Though the trees they bring us shade in the mottled summer heat a shield from the suns warm rays But as the sun crests hills and the moonlight dims the sky Vladya's steel glimmers in the light But through the mud and death-ridden path the light of the sun breaks the trees The Nectar of Ialomita breeds life amongst the men nary a thought of what tomorrow brings But in the Sultan's ranks a weakness Dracul sees amidst the night with Wallachian steel the Turks they greet Though Sipahis cavalry slain, the eastern flank never came And Dracul's men forced retreat At the dawning rays first sight, from the camp they eastward rode through the smoke plumes dust clouds and haze Appearing over the hill a vast forest of spears and impaled upon them high the Ottoman laid "And on that fateful morning the 18th of June, 1462 the feeble Turk lord marched east in a final act of desperation to besiege the capital and end the reign of Vladimir Tepes the Third But upon arrival, and to his own amazement agape the city gates were opened wide and the once bustling city, now merely a mass grave of 20,000 impaled turkish men who lain out before them spanned more than 20 leagues and among them was the rotted corpse of Hamza Pasha, whom above all towered upon the highest of stakes"
Submitted by NecroLord — Aug 14, 2026
(<em>Instrumental</em>)
Submitted by NecroLord — Aug 14, 2026
In waving fields where wide sweeps the sky across a land so vast I sit in silence, only the wind's howl I hear It guides an aching mind to plains of spectral sorrow A link to the past, all but forgotten Reflections in the river of my soul Manifesting waves of neural bliss Apparitions Across the Ravencrest A whisper sounds, materialized from places deep A sound so cold, it's frigid claws burrow themselves in me Rotting the innocence of my mind A link to the past, all but forgotten Reflections in the river of my soul Manifesting waves of neural bliss Apparitions Across the Ravencrest Harboring thoughts of shadowed contemplation Beckons the essence of my soul Subconscious diversion of matters tainted by fear Merely a means to ease the pain As I gaze upon these waving amber fields and dark clouds loom the sky I reach within to find a shed of reason and choke back my inner cries O' how I long to be free from the pain that holds me in its cold embrace Trying to piece together what is right from that of which created self inflicted inner hate To free myself from the clutches of a sorrow so great would be testament to the strengths of a mortal soul As the night winds blow, and the sun sinks below the trees A wandering mind returns from its journey amongst the stars
Submitted by NecroLord — Aug 14, 2026
(<em>Instrumental</em>)
Submitted by NecroLord — Aug 14, 2026
In the earliest of ancient times in a land much like our own where the leaves burst forth with color in golden light In this time of peace and prosperity with our farmlands rich in grain a black shape splits wide open the sky And I can't help but feel, this longing sense of suffering dread And the creating of a horn peaks the sky and the whispers gather in my head Tattered broken and bloody, a woman I happened upon a priestess of the light on death's horizons In a cabin alone on the hill, around this woman we gather and pray when the air freezes in its place And I can't help but feel, this longing sense of suffering dread While this priestess of light grows cold and draws out a feigning breath Marking her death Enshrouded in pall upon the pyre She arose with life amidst the fire And Her screams became the shrieking winds and from the flames she set upon the coven She ripped out the throats of mothers and the eyes of the young long carved And the men so brutally profaned Ravished as if only for amusement Blood-matron so grim and so foul The daughter of the purest blood Imprecating abominations The scourge of undeath wrought the lands And never before so cruelly mocked The realms of mortal men And I can't help but feel, this longing sense of suffering dread For I know of a new horror that walks upon frozen shores
Submitted by NecroLord — Aug 14, 2026
(<em>Instrumental</em>)
Submitted by NecroLord — Aug 14, 2026
From the shadow of the Golden Eagle Wrought from the fields battle-worn, tired hungry, in pain By the crown of the Eagle long scorned and for 3 years hence as a slave But my brothers I long for a different life one free from oppression and greed I will break these chains that which bind us and carve through the necks of the legions with rage And seize the armaments of war And make our way onward towards the freedom which waits Deep in the farmlands of Capua an army built from the dreams Of stepping out of the shadow of the Eagle and retaking the reins of our own life From the north an army rides out Unskilled and untrained are they whom face my tempered blade Now on hundred thousand strong we march on for our future Facing down the legions of a tyrant who would only see us in chains Though we know what tomorrow may bring I would die but not in vain Drug from the mountain tops, high Six thousand in number spanned way Crucified by the sins of their deeds Along the Appian Way
Submitted by NecroLord — Aug 14, 2026
(<em>Instrumental</em>)
Submitted by NecroLord — Aug 14, 2026
By the towering stone gates of Ainsmouth Hold I stand bearing cold steel in my wrathful hands For its long been 10 dreadful winters and nigh a moon ago that the flames of a far distant shore claimed the Eastern Ward In the days that have long since past, my ranks in numbers grown To avenge their fallen King and the usurper whose claimed his throne Now we stand here 10,000 strong at the gates of Ainsmouth Hold With hearts of flaming hatred and a malice dead & cold Dead & Cold Across the long trodden fields stand high the walls of stone and the fires of our encampment shield us from winter's hold The songs of victory rang through the night and by the suns first dawning rays A glimmer of steel peaks the early morning light and the winds fill our banners with pride Shoulder to shoulder we make way across the field with shields against the sun Blotting out the arrows that fall one by one By the inch we gain the ground, beat a path unto the town (I can see our victory soon drawing near) In the face of the one whom falsely wears our crown Only death can penetrate this moment of time in which we're found
Submitted by NecroLord — Aug 14, 2026