Lyrics Six Score And Ten Oblations To A Malefic Avatar - Bal-Sagoth

Six Score And Ten Oblations To A Malefic Avatar

Terrifying axioms, shadow-haunted lexicon
Clandestine cults, ancient spells, cryptic rites, the summoning!
Lore from time immemorial, acolytes, diabolists
Blackened tome of blasphemy, the Chthonic Chronicles!
Lore derived from ancient tongues, Grimm’s Hold Sanitarium
Oblations here, six score and ten, this avatar, malevolent!
Fragmentary entry II:
Caught in the maleficent whorls and verticils of this dark tome…
but what lies at the heart of it?
A vespertine viper’s nest of sublime
wickedness!
What I discovered within this shadow-haunted volume was a
terrifying axiom so inestimably terrible in its magnitude that it would shatter
all man’s carefully orchestrated views of the cosmos and render utterly
redundant previous theories on the origin of humankind.
Lore dating from time
immemorial;
lore surviving in the records of long extinct civilizations,
be it inscribed upon parchment now crumbled to dust, etched into the
sand-whipped, glyph-scored stone of hoary temples, or committed to verbal
traditions long since ingrained into some collective tribal memory.
This is no globally common myth cycle, no collection of universally
allegorical folk tales;
it is all cold, pitiless truth!
And yet, such enlightenment has not been a prize easily won… I have communed
with native shamans, consulted with misanthropic diabloists, I have confronted
the martial agents, acolytes and cultists of clandestine sects who would see
their knowledge safeguarded at all costs.
Hildebrandt and the Quorum have
treacherously attempted to have me commited to the baleful confines of Grimm’s
Hold Sanitarium, yet I have circumvented their insidious plot to put an end to
my vaunted research.
Damn their traitorous eyes!
I must confer with Blackthorne
upon his return from the Peruvian expedition… or mayhap Stone if ever the
poor wretch regains his sanity…
Stygian gramarye, etched with blasphemy
Whorls and verticils, black with baleful spells
Vespertine conjurings, doomsayer’s prophecy
Pellucid lotus-dreams, spawn of the elder fiends
Cryptic halls, squamous mass, malevolent diabolist
Black desire, nighted woe, shunned and forbidden tome
Brooding dark, deepest night, ritual, abhorrent sight
Whispering, malignity, hearken to the summoning!
(This black desire, this nighted woe, this vile shunned and forbidden tome
In the brooding darkness of the night, now witness this abhorrent sight
The whispering, malignity, now hearken to the summoning!)
Fragmentary entry III:
What titanic demi-gods once strode the boiling surface of the young earth,
treading the shattered surface of mighty Pangaea beneath their ersatz feet?
What fearsome entities were already inestimably ancient when mankind himself
was naught but a collection of mindless random atoms, a viscous puddle of gelid
protoplasm teeming with the raw materials of life, transient cells of
primordial slime, all naught but malleable and tractable clay to be worked at
by unimaginable sculptors, immortal star-spanning fiends!
What inhuman eyes
even now watch the inconsequential toilings of man from afar?
The answers to
these questions of denied primacy and direful cosmogony were too repulsively
horrific to contemplate, and yet… I knew the truth!
And more terrifying still… The Z’xulth and their villainous agents of
depravity even now walk among us!
But what price these revelations?
What dire agents of malignity safeguard such
cryptic axioms against the prying intellect of man?
I must confesss,
oftimes in the brooding darkness of the night, I have sensed their malefic
gaze upon me, lurking, inexorably dogging my every step, their existence
perceived only as some unnamable sense of fearful unease, and the occaisional
glimpse of black shimmering against black in the depths of the teeming shadows.
.
I hear them whispering when the mantle of darkness silences the world,
and the sibilant words they utter are not for the minds of men to know.
O' how I wish I had left those vile and fathomless depths of cryptical lore
wholly and mercifully unplumbed!
O', how I long for the assuaging balm of
ignorance to once again soothe my ravaged mind!
But such pleadings are,
of course, ultimately in vain.
I must keep my wits about me.
Even now the
stars align, the celestial spheres moving into the prophesied positions of the
great astral conjunction.
Am I to be ground to dust between the grand gears of
this pitiless cosmic engine of destruction?
The die is cast, the endgame nears
Wait… they come, they come for me!
Is it Hildebrandt, or something far,
far worse which stalks me this night?
The key… I must hide the key!