This is perfect! My players are investigating a Bhaalist Murder Cult that's been assassinating priests in Elturel, and they're about to face their Bhaalspawn leader in his den. This captures the vibe perfectly 🖤
Been searching so long for a new instrumental playlist to listen time and time again. Eventually managed to come across this phenomonal banger. Thank you for this, you never dissapoint with your playlists, Gloriae Templum. Keep it up!
Well, I know what music I'm going to use when my players attempt to stop the Hand of the King from completing the Ritual of Devouring and killing the entire capital city.
Ok yeah this will be the Malkavian antediluvian boss theme for now until I find something truly deranged witch people apparently don’t make that or I give it to another boss I have in any other ways I truly love your playlists and music it gives me so much inspiration
@@AfroDee2iac I'm a fan of 40K but in this case it's a literature reference. I first learned about Hastur from a Dungeons & Dragons book with stats for famous entities, and then I got curious :)
*The Mad King's Legacy* They found him in the ruins, the once-great king who had ruled the land with an iron fist and a mind twisted by darkness. His kingdom had crumbled around him, the walls of his castle fallen to dust, the fields that had once fed his people now barren and desolate. The king’s reign had been long and bloody, marked by cruelty and madness, and now, as his end approached, there was nothing left of his empire but the echoes of his tyranny and the whispers of those who had survived it. He sat on a throne made of stone and bone, his once-grand robes tattered and stained, his crown crooked on his brow. His eyes, once sharp and piercing, were clouded now, filled with a madness that had long since consumed him. He mumbled to himself, words that made no sense, that tumbled from his lips in a torrent of broken sentences, half-formed thoughts that twisted and turned in his mind like snakes. The soldiers who had come to find him hesitated at the edge of the ruined throne room, their swords drawn, their eyes wary. They had heard the stories of the mad king, of the horrors he had wrought, of the darkness that had seeped into his soul, turning him into something less than human. But now, seeing him like this, broken and defeated, they found that their fear was mixed with something else, something like pity. The king’s voice rose in a sudden shout, his hands clawing at the air, as if he were fighting some unseen enemy, some phantom that only he could see. His crown slipped from his head, clattering to the floor, and he stared down at it as if it were the most precious thing in the world, as if it were the only thing that mattered. One of the soldiers, braver than the others, stepped forward, his sword still held at the ready, but his expression softened as he looked at the fallen king. He had expected a monster, a tyrant, a figure of fear and hatred. But what he saw before him was just a man, old and frail, his body bent by the weight of the years, his mind shattered by the darkness that had taken hold of him. The soldier reached down and picked up the crown, holding it in his hands for a moment, feeling the cold weight of it, the heaviness that seemed to seep into his bones. He looked at the king, who was staring up at him now, his eyes wide, his expression one of desperate hope, as if he believed that the crown could somehow save him, could somehow restore him to the man he had once been. But there was no salvation to be found in that crown, no redemption in the cold metal and the jewels that had lost their luster. The soldier knew this, just as he knew that the king’s madness could not be cured, that the darkness that had consumed him would never release its hold. The king reached out a trembling hand, his fingers grasping for the crown, his voice pleading, broken. “My crown… my kingdom… they will return… they must…” The soldier hesitated, then slowly, deliberately, he placed the crown back on the king’s head, settling it crookedly on his brow. The king’s eyes lit up with a strange light, a flicker of the man he had once been, a king who had ruled with strength and conviction before the madness had taken him. But then the soldier stepped back, and the light faded, the king’s eyes clouding over once more. The soldier turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing through the ruins, the other soldiers following behind him, leaving the mad king to his throne of stone and bone, to his broken kingdom and his shattered mind. They left him there, the once-great king, now nothing more than a shadow of his former self, a relic of a time that had passed, a time that had been forgotten. The wind whispered through the ruins, carrying with it the echoes of a past that could never be reclaimed, the memories of a king who had lost everything, even his own mind. But as the soldiers left, one of them-young, eager, with eyes that had not yet been hardened by the world-paused and looked back at the king, sitting alone on his throne, his crown crooked, his hands trembling. The young soldier felt a pang of something, something like sorrow, something like regret. And then he saw it, a flicker of movement in the shadows, a figure stepping out from the darkness, tall and lean, with eyes that glowed like embers. The young soldier’s heart leaped in his chest, fear gripping him, but the figure paid him no mind. It moved toward the king, silent and sure, and as it drew closer, the king’s eyes widened, his mouth opening in a gasp of recognition. The young soldier’s breath caught in his throat as he watched the figure kneel before the king, bowing its head in deference, in respect. The king’s trembling hand reached out, touching the figure’s bowed head, and for a moment, the madness in his eyes seemed to clear, the darkness lifting like a veil. The king smiled, a slow, twisted smile, and the figure rose, taking the king’s hand in its own, helping him to his feet. The king stood tall, his back straight, his crown gleaming on his brow, and the figure stepped aside, allowing him to take a step forward, to move toward the entrance of the throne room. The young soldier watched, frozen in place, as the king walked past him, the figure at his side, guiding him through the ruins, through the crumbling remnants of his kingdom. The king’s steps were steady, strong, and as he walked, the shadows seemed to draw back, the darkness retreating, leaving only the light of the setting sun, casting long, golden rays over the land. The king turned his head, his eyes meeting the young soldier’s for a brief moment, and in that moment, the young soldier saw not the madness, not the darkness, but something else-something like clarity, like purpose, like a man who knew exactly who he was and what he had become. And then the king was gone, the figure leading him into the fading light, into the distance, where the ruins of his kingdom stood silent and still, where the wind whispered through the broken stones, carrying with it the echoes of forgotten dreams, of lost empires, of a king who had walked the line between madness and greatness, and who had, in the end, found his way. The young soldier blinked, his heart pounding in his chest, and when he looked again, there was nothing but the ruins, empty and desolate, the throne room dark and silent, the king’s crown lying on the ground where it had fallen, the last remnants of a forgotten reign. He turned and hurried to catch up with the others, the image of the king’s smile burned into his mind, a smile that was both mad and serene, a smile that held a secret he would never understand, a secret that had been carried away into the sunset, into the twilight, into the shadows of a kingdom that no longer existed. (I'm working on a book if anyone's interested, consider subscribing for updates!) Thanks!
Not even 30 seconds in and my mind is just like "Let's actually get some work done today." This is epic!
FACTS BROTHA! This video made me feel like the king of the world!
This is perfect! My players are investigating a Bhaalist Murder Cult that's been assassinating priests in Elturel, and they're about to face their Bhaalspawn leader in his den. This captures the vibe perfectly 🖤
I love how this sounds like it would be a soundtrack for a fantasy movie
Can't believe how many playlists you've been slapping together recently. I'm damn happy for it. Thanks, Gloriae.
Been searching so long for a new instrumental playlist to listen time and time again. Eventually managed to come across this phenomonal banger. Thank you for this, you never dissapoint with your playlists, Gloriae Templum. Keep it up!
MAD KING is the best off all .........short and concentrate
More music to feed my writing creativity. Thank you for another wonderful mix!
Oh, what are you writing?
@@OsiriumWrites Mass Effect fanfiction. Just a nerdy passion project for one of my hyperfixations XD
@@AssassinLex Ah, nice! Where do you post it?
Is it realistic, or comical?
Yes, writing about Liara and Shep's blue babies
@@d.pedroii2940 Haha yeah, I love femshep/Liara XD
Always loving finding Neoclassical trailer music like this. Such unique and powerful stuff!
Out of all your videos I keep coming back to this one. The first and 2nd tracks especially.❤
Well, I know what music I'm going to use when my players attempt to stop the Hand of the King from completing the Ritual of Devouring and killing the entire capital city.
Lol 😆 🤣🤣
Sounds very original.
A fallow GM :D
Ok yeah this will be the Malkavian antediluvian boss theme for now until I find something truly deranged witch people apparently don’t make that or I give it to another boss I have in any other ways I truly love your playlists and music it gives me so much inspiration
This is the perfect compilation for my upcoming D&D session where my players will fight against Hastur the King in Yellow :)
Warhammer 40K reference or are you a literature fan?
@@AfroDee2iac I'm a fan of 40K but in this case it's a literature reference. I first learned about Hastur from a Dungeons & Dragons book with stats for famous entities, and then I got curious :)
PHENOMENAL!!
Just discovered you today. Instant subscribe. I want to become a composer one day.
*The Mad King's Legacy*
They found him in the ruins, the once-great king who had ruled the land with an iron fist and a mind twisted by darkness. His kingdom had crumbled around him, the walls of his castle fallen to dust, the fields that had once fed his people now barren and desolate. The king’s reign had been long and bloody, marked by cruelty and madness, and now, as his end approached, there was nothing left of his empire but the echoes of his tyranny and the whispers of those who had survived it.
He sat on a throne made of stone and bone, his once-grand robes tattered and stained, his crown crooked on his brow. His eyes, once sharp and piercing, were clouded now, filled with a madness that had long since consumed him. He mumbled to himself, words that made no sense, that tumbled from his lips in a torrent of broken sentences, half-formed thoughts that twisted and turned in his mind like snakes.
The soldiers who had come to find him hesitated at the edge of the ruined throne room, their swords drawn, their eyes wary. They had heard the stories of the mad king, of the horrors he had wrought, of the darkness that had seeped into his soul, turning him into something less than human. But now, seeing him like this, broken and defeated, they found that their fear was mixed with something else, something like pity.
The king’s voice rose in a sudden shout, his hands clawing at the air, as if he were fighting some unseen enemy, some phantom that only he could see. His crown slipped from his head, clattering to the floor, and he stared down at it as if it were the most precious thing in the world, as if it were the only thing that mattered.
One of the soldiers, braver than the others, stepped forward, his sword still held at the ready, but his expression softened as he looked at the fallen king. He had expected a monster, a tyrant, a figure of fear and hatred. But what he saw before him was just a man, old and frail, his body bent by the weight of the years, his mind shattered by the darkness that had taken hold of him.
The soldier reached down and picked up the crown, holding it in his hands for a moment, feeling the cold weight of it, the heaviness that seemed to seep into his bones. He looked at the king, who was staring up at him now, his eyes wide, his expression one of desperate hope, as if he believed that the crown could somehow save him, could somehow restore him to the man he had once been.
But there was no salvation to be found in that crown, no redemption in the cold metal and the jewels that had lost their luster. The soldier knew this, just as he knew that the king’s madness could not be cured, that the darkness that had consumed him would never release its hold.
The king reached out a trembling hand, his fingers grasping for the crown, his voice pleading, broken. “My crown… my kingdom… they will return… they must…”
The soldier hesitated, then slowly, deliberately, he placed the crown back on the king’s head, settling it crookedly on his brow. The king’s eyes lit up with a strange light, a flicker of the man he had once been, a king who had ruled with strength and conviction before the madness had taken him.
But then the soldier stepped back, and the light faded, the king’s eyes clouding over once more. The soldier turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing through the ruins, the other soldiers following behind him, leaving the mad king to his throne of stone and bone, to his broken kingdom and his shattered mind.
They left him there, the once-great king, now nothing more than a shadow of his former self, a relic of a time that had passed, a time that had been forgotten. The wind whispered through the ruins, carrying with it the echoes of a past that could never be reclaimed, the memories of a king who had lost everything, even his own mind.
But as the soldiers left, one of them-young, eager, with eyes that had not yet been hardened by the world-paused and looked back at the king, sitting alone on his throne, his crown crooked, his hands trembling. The young soldier felt a pang of something, something like sorrow, something like regret.
And then he saw it, a flicker of movement in the shadows, a figure stepping out from the darkness, tall and lean, with eyes that glowed like embers. The young soldier’s heart leaped in his chest, fear gripping him, but the figure paid him no mind. It moved toward the king, silent and sure, and as it drew closer, the king’s eyes widened, his mouth opening in a gasp of recognition.
The young soldier’s breath caught in his throat as he watched the figure kneel before the king, bowing its head in deference, in respect. The king’s trembling hand reached out, touching the figure’s bowed head, and for a moment, the madness in his eyes seemed to clear, the darkness lifting like a veil.
The king smiled, a slow, twisted smile, and the figure rose, taking the king’s hand in its own, helping him to his feet. The king stood tall, his back straight, his crown gleaming on his brow, and the figure stepped aside, allowing him to take a step forward, to move toward the entrance of the throne room.
The young soldier watched, frozen in place, as the king walked past him, the figure at his side, guiding him through the ruins, through the crumbling remnants of his kingdom. The king’s steps were steady, strong, and as he walked, the shadows seemed to draw back, the darkness retreating, leaving only the light of the setting sun, casting long, golden rays over the land.
The king turned his head, his eyes meeting the young soldier’s for a brief moment, and in that moment, the young soldier saw not the madness, not the darkness, but something else-something like clarity, like purpose, like a man who knew exactly who he was and what he had become.
And then the king was gone, the figure leading him into the fading light, into the distance, where the ruins of his kingdom stood silent and still, where the wind whispered through the broken stones, carrying with it the echoes of forgotten dreams, of lost empires, of a king who had walked the line between madness and greatness, and who had, in the end, found his way.
The young soldier blinked, his heart pounding in his chest, and when he looked again, there was nothing but the ruins, empty and desolate, the throne room dark and silent, the king’s crown lying on the ground where it had fallen, the last remnants of a forgotten reign.
He turned and hurried to catch up with the others, the image of the king’s smile burned into his mind, a smile that was both mad and serene, a smile that held a secret he would never understand, a secret that had been carried away into the sunset, into the twilight, into the shadows of a kingdom that no longer existed.
(I'm working on a book if anyone's interested, consider subscribing for updates!) Thanks!
holy fking shit
LET THIS BRUTHA COOK
I see we have a new king of writting!
Awesome!
For a moment, I thought I was looking at a pre-hollowfied Gwyn lol. Awesome music however!!!
"They call me Mad. They just didn't see what I saw. Come, I'll show you."
This is fantastic! 😁 💪 🎵
This is great for helping me focus on writing D&D :> I'm creating factions for my world rn actually
I'm listening to this while grading.
Oh, my poor students, lol 😅
Listening to this while studying. I am invincible.
What are you studying? I am studying for the PE exam in Systems Engineering and Industrial Engineering.
I am doing law
гд е тут Dark music ... музыка для чаепития ...
art%music
я так эпично не срал еще никогда
are you in Deezer?
Who is the artist of 'Betrayal' (02:11)? I liked this song so much for my DnD campaign, and I'd like to take more songs from this artist.
Elephant music
شونق يحط ذي الاغنيه🙆🏻♀️
39:31
23:14 👁🌚🪐
18:18 For WA
21:07 🍊🍊🍊=🤑
44:12 ⏲🛎⌛
I TEGO
ARCANA
DEI
💋
🎱SATOR🎱
🧿AREPO🧿
♠TENET♠
🎭OPERA🎭
🌀ROTAS🌀
....🌠🪐🌀
mad king eddie kingston
Okay, the first song is called "Stiletto"!? But does anyone know who's the artist? I can't seem to find the song by itself.
Artist is Elephant Music :)
Odium
scandal remix seems lower volume than other tracks
Who is the artist of 'stiletto'
Elephant Music
Lets get out of the chair