Angelo Badalamenti- What A Wonderful World Stalingrad OST

E.S. Posthumus - Ebla

Track Title: Them or Us (XXL00507)
Artist: Sons of Pythagoras
Album: Shift of Power (XXL005)
Label: 13 Brotherhood
Publisher: Extreme Music Publishing UK

Sons of Pythagoras - THEM OR US

Fantasy music, written just for fun.

Featuring the voice of Celica Soldream as heard in Eduardo Tarilonte's Era II Limited Edition.

Artwork: Cris Ortega

https://www.facebook.com/AbelVegasMusic

Abel Vegas - Bébhionn The Fair

A night to remember and hole in the sun mashup

The Witcher 3 A night to remember danielo (MASHUP)

Средневековая музыка - 2

Средневековая музыка - 4

Never—no, never—could they have imagined it.
That an encounter with an extraterrestrial civilization might come to pass. Yes, the probability existed. But it seemed so infinitesimal, so distant, that it belonged more to dream than to calculation. Humanity lifted its gaze to the stars, convinced that if such a day ever arrived, it would be written in the heavens.

And yet…

The worst nightmare took shape.
Yes, a civilization existed—alien, monstrous, and all too real.
The encounter came, but not where we expected.

No… not in the firmament.
Not in the frozen infinity of space.

But beneath our feet.
Beneath the Earth’s crust.

It was there we found them.
A swarming immensity, ancient and foul. The air reeked of damp stone and rotting flesh; the ground quivered beneath the innumerable stirrings of their bodies. In the dark resounded the chittering of their limbs, the wet rasp of their breath, the obscene scraping of flesh against stone. Even the most battle-hardened souls felt their minds split, for to gaze upon those shapes—nameless, writhing, obscene—was to stand at the very threshold of madness.

And this discovery… tolled the death knell of mankind.

For we then understood that we had never been the masters of this world.
That our empires, our religions, our sciences were but fragile ornaments resting upon a treacherous surface.
Since ages older than ocean and mountain, beneath the weight of stone and fire, the true sovereigns had slumbered. Their memory already haunted our myths: Hades, Tartarus, the underworld—forebodings repressed, disguised as legend.

We were but a fleeting dream, an illusion of autonomy.
And already, in the bowels of the earth, something stirs.
The true masters awaken.
Their hour is not to come—
it has come.


==============

Jamais, non jamais, ils n’auraient pu l’imaginer. Qu’une rencontre avec une civilisation extraterrestre puisse advenir — certes, la probabilité existait. Mais elle paraissait si infime, si lointaine, qu’elle relevait davantage du songe que du calcul. L’humanité levait les yeux vers les étoiles, persuadée que si ce jour devait survenir, il serait écrit dans le ciel. Et pourtant… Le pire cauchemar prit corps. Oui, une civilisation existait — étrangère, monstrueuse, et bien réelle. La rencontre eut lieu, mais pas là où nous l’attendions. Non… pas dans le firmament. Pas dans l’infinité glaciale de l’espace. Mais sous nos pieds. Sous la croûte terrestre. C’est là que nous les découvrîmes. Une immensité grouillante, ancienne et fétide. L’air empestait la pierre moite et la chair en décomposition ; le sol vibrait sous le fourmillement innombrable de leurs corps. Dans l’obscurité résonnaient le cliquetis de leurs membres, le râle visqueux de leur respiration, le frottement immonde de chairs contre la roche. Même les âmes les plus aguerries sentirent leur esprit se fendre, car contempler ces formes — innommables, grouillantes, obscènes — revenait à marcher au seuil même de la folie. Et cette découverte… sonnait le glas de l’humanité. Car nous comprîmes alors que nous n’avions jamais été les maîtres de ce monde. Que nos empires, nos religions, nos sciences n’étaient que des ornements fragiles posés sur une surface trompeuse. Depuis des ères plus anciennes que l’océan et la montagne, sous le poids de la pierre et du feu, les véritables souverains sommeillaient. Leur souvenir rôdait déjà dans nos mythes : Hadès, le Tartare, les enfers — autant de pressentiments refoulés que nous avions déguisés en légendes. Nous n’étions qu’un rêve fugace, une illusion d’autonomie. Et déjà, dans les entrailles de la terre, quelque chose remue. Les véritables maîtres s’éveillent. Leur heure n’est pas à venir — elle est venue.

The Hour of the Depths

The game throws everything it has at you. Everything.

Every enemy left, every NPC, L.O.R.D himself (or your past playthrough you if you're doing this on hard mode,) The Shop Man smashes together a bunch of Lifeback Items and triggers them all at once, tearing a hole in reality for The Fallen to join the fight.

Everything left is struggling desperately to live.

One by one, you pick them off, and they fight harder with each loss, angrier and angrier, sadder and sadder, more ferocious and unpredictable and chaotic, but... you're stronger than them. You're the strongest now.

Everybody dies. The Shop Man punches your chest till his knuckles bleed, screaming at you while you stand there, bored and waiting for the game to end.

You destroy him too.

Angelo Badalamenti- What A Wonderful World Stalingrad OST

Kerem Gürel

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