You awake, deep in a tomb. The four walls of a stone sarcophagus surround you, though it is not sealed. You mustn't count your blessings yet, for you are deep, so deep, in a dark tomb with the only source of light being a distant pinprick far above.

One digs a well to find water, the source of life. Here, in the World Entombed, the scant few who survive dig Crypt Wells in hopes of finding remnants of other worlds that have not fallen into decay.

You've fallen far indeed, to have awoken in the well of crypts.

The Well Of Crypts

All seems lost, until the carrion creature snatches the crown from atop the Crypt King's skull. He shrieks in wordless rage, pointing a bony finger at your companion to command his legionnaires to strike it down. 

As the carrion bird fends off skeletal soldiers you see your chance, and bring the hero's sword down upon the Crypt King's crown. He gives one last wail of anguish before aging to dust before your eyes, and his unwilling puppets crumble into heaps of bones, never to rise again.

The Shattered Crown

You are not alone in the well. Distant shuffling, creaking of old bones, and gasps of fetid air echo through the well, accompanying the shambling movement of those entombed alongside you. You can only stick to the shadows and pray to some forgotten god that they don't sense you.

Unquiet Graves

A battalion of skeleton soldiers patrols the necropolis. Do they seek you, or are they merely enacting the same marching orders for the rest of time? There are countless soldiers in rusted armour, each a frightening foe in themselves. Battle would be foolish, lest you join their ranks. Instead, you and the carrion make yourself scarce until they pass.


Crossing The Necropolis

You take refuge from the revenant in an old cathedral, hoping that either the hallowed ground or the sturdy doors will offer some protection. Your pursuer is relentless, and forces entry.

But upon crossing the threshold, the spell of the Crypt King weakens. The undead warrior pauses, unable to strike you down due to the magic of this place. Instead, he relays his tale - that of the hero who fought the Crypt King.

He battled his way through the abominations conjured by the would-be tyrant and raised his blessed sword to strike down the foul foe, but his wounds had already taken their toll and he swiftly became a puppet of the Crypt King, forced to destroy anyone who could ever fulfill his vow. The skeletal figure kneels before you, and he offers up his blade. 

He cannot leave this place without losing his mind once more. Only you can free him and his world from this eternal curse.

You take up his sword, and his quest, and leave the hero kneeling in penitence forevermore.

Restless Reliquary

You breathe a sigh of relief as the sounds of marching bones fade into the distance. Will this be your life now, cowering from the vengeful dead until your heart gives out and the only other sapient creature you've met here makes a feast of you? There has to be more than this. There has to be some way back to a life you can only barely remember. But how? And what life is there to return to?

There's only one way to get answers, and that's to find the Crypt King himself. You set off, with purpose beyond plain survival.

Haunted By A Life Unlived

A Legion of the Lost arose to serve at the Crypt King's behest, and they left naught but graves in their wake. Journey across the necropolis, a carrion bird your only companion.

An attempt at making a dungeon synth album based on the story of a novel I've long since given up on writing. Instead the lore is all in individual track descriptions.

Legion Of The Lost

With the hero's sword in hand you enter the tower of the Crypt King, the foul necromancer who cursed this land. The skeletal sorcerer sits upon his throne, clad in faded finery and attended to by a court of the enslaved dead. 

Hall Of The Eternal Tyrant

Even decayed to the point of decrepitude the Crypt King swiftly overpowers you, his fell magic and endless army of the dead making him a truly daunting foe. Countless corpse-soldiers spring to his defense, and you find yourself in the fight of your life. And, perhaps, your unlife.

Crypt King

Ascending Trail To The Hitching Post Of The Sun

Subterranean street wear born from the dungeons of Brooklyn, NY. Presenting an ongoing mix series from artists who represent the real sound of the global alien underground. ALIENBODY.COM

New tracks tagged #Dungeon synth