The Storyteller:
A mountain rose up high
from the midst of blackened crags
Hither led the path
the hunter and his wrath

Embraced by hoarfrost
he carries on the way
'til the blazonries of sunset
wither in dismay

The algid bitter cold
now bites down to the bone
a pyre's lit to shelter
the wanderer, so lone.

Before dawn could pierce
the grim obsidian sky
howling could be heard,
a savage primal cry.


Magister Ralibar-Vooz:
I summon thee grim avatar of war,
give me the strength
to withstand these creatures so foul
aid my blade in the task at hand.

I summon thee grim avatar of war,
give me your power
so the Voormis may fall before my might,
my blade shall be painted red with blood.


The Storyteller:
Illusions swirl in the moonlight
Sorcery cast under the veil of night
The high crags are warped as the arcane takes its toll
The grim cries of war fade away,
the fires burn down to coal

Shadows are gathering in the moonlight
Ancient invocations uttered in the dark
The hunter arrives as the power takes its hold
The spell is broken, the conjunction is void


The Sorcerer Ezdagor:
Fool!
The summoning is broken
I waited for a thousand years
You shall be placed under my geas

Journey to the depth of the mountain,
I offer your life, to the dormant gods,
for I waited for a thousand years,
and you are now placed under my geas.


The Storyteller:
Illusions swirl in the moonlight
Sorcery cast under the veil of night
The invocation surrounds the hunter with fell fumes
The grim cries of war abound again,
as he treads towards his doom


Magister Ralibar-Vooz:
O, Elder God Tsathoggua,
Hear my call great Atlach-Nacha

The Elder Gods Tsathoggua and Atlach-Nacha:
Your purpose is not what the Eye foresees
journey forth with another geas

Magister Ralibar-Vooz:
Grim sorcerer Haon-Dor,
wise scholars of the serpent-men

The sorcerer Haon-Dor and the serpent-men:
Seek out the Archetypes,
they may use you for their profane rites


The Storyteller:
The hunter was led to a prehistoric fen
compelled by spell, his mind shaken,
the womb of the world was nothing, but a cruel host
A chance to see Commoriom, the last hope is lost


Magister Ralibar-Vooz:
Hear me out o Archetypes,
primogenitors of mankind

The Primordial Archetypes:
We disown you with indignation,
Your presence here's an intrusion

Magister Ralibar-Vooz:
Abhoth, Lord of Miscreation,
grim primordial abomination

The Elder God Abhoth:
I cast upon you the seventh geas,
Seek out the Outer World and end your pleas.


Magister Ralibar-Vooz:
With the seventh geas cast,
My story shall end at last
The darkest abyss awaits my fall,
From the primal void I hear the call