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Track 17: The Unheld Hand
Genre: Dark Fantasy Ballad
Duration: 03:58.0 Lore Source: "Scavenger Stash" (Quest) In-Game Author: None Wiki Link: Click Here to Read Lore A Dark Fantasy Ballad centered on the "Wailing Blade." The solo violin mimics the metallic cry of a weapon rejected by the daughter it was forged for. It is tragic, ethereal, and arguably the most beautiful melody on the record. |
~*~ Song Lyrics ~*~
The pack was snarling, the cutthroats were near
So I took the haul and I disappeared.
I found a hollow where the light doesn't go
To bury the treasure that the others won't know.
Gold and trinkets and scraps of the dead
But one piece lies heavy on the silken thread.
A blade so sharp it could slice through the wind
A beautiful sin for a scavenger’s sinned.
Oh, the Wailing Blade, it cries in the stone,
Forgged for a hand it will never own.
The daughter turned from the fire and steel,
Leaving a wound that the iron can't heal.
It sings for the warrior who walked away,
A masterpiece left in the dark and the clay.
I see the mark of the Pikemead sire
Born of the hammer and the coal and the fire.
He poured his love in the curve of the knife
To guard the blood of his own daughter's life.
A warrior queen with a spirit of flame
He etched the steel with her honor and name.
But a gift is a burden when it isn't desired
And the love of a father can get lost in the fire.
She looked at the edge. She looked at the man.
She wouldn't accept the death in her hand.
"I will not carry your sharp, heavy heart."
And that’s when the Wailing began to start.
Not a curse of magic, nor a spell of the mage...
Just the sound of rejection inside of a cage.
Now it rests in the cave. In the dust. In the dark.
Bearing the weight... Of the Blacksmith’s mark.
So I took the haul and I disappeared.
I found a hollow where the light doesn't go
To bury the treasure that the others won't know.
Gold and trinkets and scraps of the dead
But one piece lies heavy on the silken thread.
A blade so sharp it could slice through the wind
A beautiful sin for a scavenger’s sinned.
Oh, the Wailing Blade, it cries in the stone,
Forgged for a hand it will never own.
The daughter turned from the fire and steel,
Leaving a wound that the iron can't heal.
It sings for the warrior who walked away,
A masterpiece left in the dark and the clay.
I see the mark of the Pikemead sire
Born of the hammer and the coal and the fire.
He poured his love in the curve of the knife
To guard the blood of his own daughter's life.
A warrior queen with a spirit of flame
He etched the steel with her honor and name.
But a gift is a burden when it isn't desired
And the love of a father can get lost in the fire.
She looked at the edge. She looked at the man.
She wouldn't accept the death in her hand.
"I will not carry your sharp, heavy heart."
And that’s when the Wailing began to start.
Not a curse of magic, nor a spell of the mage...
Just the sound of rejection inside of a cage.
Now it rests in the cave. In the dust. In the dark.
Bearing the weight... Of the Blacksmith’s mark.