Transcript of The Epic of Bukalla

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This transcript involves dialogue with Skald Ogson.

Hail, heroes of ages.
We sing songs stirring
glory gleaned from the grave
of dagger-mouths destroyed.
Fremennik – fill flagons
with hops-blood, hearken!
The grandeur of great old
spirits watching, silent.
Restless Rellakans rise
on wooden wave-rider.
Sailing over shark's home.
Bottomless, boundless blue.
Sky's breath screaming loud
in this callous climate,
but neither wind nor wet
halts the hearts of heroes.
The motion of our men,
all readied for revenge
on the depths' denizens
warrants warriors' will.
A red retribution
repaying mortal rest.
An attrition of arms
on a domain of dread.
Making good a grievance,
aggression and assault.
Joined in justice tested
for our ruthless revenge.
Heroes hunt their quarry
in the lake of loathing.
Brothers of Bukalla
on the isle of wave's womb.
Through water-born bowels,
descend into darkness
beyond stone, spike and seer.
Steel your steadfast souls,
through the endless echoes
of dark delirium.
Take glory and greatness
in heart of horror's home.
Natives of Niflheim,
hellish hordes of hate,
fall foul of falchion
on their vicious vigil.
Blades sing ballads of blood,
axes anoint the air.
No daemon will dampen
our Fremennik fervour.
This fevered fog of fear,
no mere maze of madness.
Resist, repel, refuse,
deny the dread of death.
Shrink not at terror's teeth
or reel from regents' roar.
Yours, the Day of Rising.
Not horror from the deep's.
Fremennik far-seer,
virtuous vanguard's voice
boldens his burdened band.
Deflect your deep despair
undo foulest of fiends.
Tutor their transgression
through a hail of hammers
beside Bukalla's blows.
An earth-born bane of beast,
fervently forged in fire.
The ravenous razor,
scourge of sea-born savage.
Reparations of wrath
delivered directly
by brand of the bravest.
Bukalla's blade – Balmung.
In the paternal pit,
nest of nobility,
Bukalla, battle-braced
for vicious vendetta
measures his massive mark.
Barbaric behemoth,
Akranoth dagnathi,
monarch monstrosity.
Solid, his scale and spine;
viridian vellum,
bombardment of barbs.
But no bullish barrage
pierces the arm's bulwark.
Grasping glowing great-sword.
Bukalla braces firm
for a supreme struggle.
The lash upon lancet,
hack against hefty hook.
His rage reverberates.
Echoing exchanges,
trades of tribulation.
Both bare their battle-sweat.
The wine of veins wanders
across the sodden stage.
Indignation imposed,
dagger-mouths diminished.
A wholesome hiatus
imbued on inciters
of destruction and death.
Our troupe triumphant,
the surf of swords shifting
to the shore of shelter.
Vigilant, valiant,
now dismissed from duty.
Release and repose now,
for weary warriors.
Remains returned to rock,
the battle-worn's bastion.
Winter's Eye, watch over
Bukalla and brothers.
Emissaries employed
to the sleep of the sword.
Liberated from life,
balance bartered with blood.
Confirmed in your courage
gorge from golden goblets,
feast on the fabled fish
and sing your story loud!
Hail, heroes of ages.
We look on your lessons,
revering your resolve
and spirit, steel-forged.
Drink to their direction.
Eat in their example.
Fremennik, be not fazed
by ways of the wicked.