Void-Given Solace

The Final Work of Conqueror's Mourn.

Death, the inescapable.
Death, whose name is celebrated with his back turned, but whose name is cursed as he approaches. But if Death should make you a promise, you can be certain he will keep it.

In a season where the smell of blood hangs thick in the air, the Void Dweller seeks help to meet his high demand.

And there she is, face flushed, in the height of her battletrance. In the last hour she has sent him one hundred souls, and her armor contains stains and flecks of them all. It is a battle the likes of which Death rarely sees face to face - but she is experienced, breathing slowly through it despite enemies coming at her from all sides. She lives for all this, as did generations of her forebears, yet the weariness is visible on her face. Yes, thinks Death, she'll do.

She was aware of the sword coming toward her head, and she had contemplated, as she sometimes did, letting it land. But Death chose that moment to freeze time, to address her, to take her to the abyss. She had only a moment to look back, to see her would-be killer fall forward into empty space and onto his own blade. She smiled for the first time in a decade.

Death made her an offer. Collect for him, live underground. Bathe in the waterfall. There would be no battles. No deaths by her own hand. Her name would be cursed by those unwilling to accept their fate - that was nothing new. Many would struggle mightily. Some would resist, some would flee. Some would simply take her hand and walk with her. They would all have to accompany her to the abyss one way or another. It would be bleak work - but it would be finite. There would be no honor in it, no songs praising her deeds. She would be no more for the battletrance. But a decade of that work and she would be granted solace.

Death did not expect her to agree so quickly.

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Conqueror's Mourn has channeled the depths of its creator's depression and the weariness of life's inevitable struggles into musical form. Utilizing grand piano and a library of self-recorded samples distorted and stretched to almost mock their source, this project has looked at life through a crooked lens, and occasionally found glimpses of peace therein.