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【书籍搬运】Mannimarco, King of Worms 曼尼马可,腐虫之王

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原文地址:http://www.uesp.net/wiki/Skyrim:Mannimarco,_King_of_Worms

中文翻译:

曼尼马可,腐虫之王

——霍利克勒斯(Horicles)

噢,那圣岛亚蒂姆,玫瑰柔光照芬芳,

流经塔楼穿花径,细风阵阵轻吹拂,

缓坡绿意灿如吻,峭壁拍岸浪花珠,

春潮涌动春息至,永春午后界内色,

迷雾守护秘境中,居住乃是赛伊克:

建言声声为王者,谨慎睿智公正长。

莱曼王朝西坠后,二百又三十年整,

赛伊克之教导下,学生二名俱慧聪,

其一热情心盈盈,其二冷酷暗心中。

曼尼马可为后者,疯狂旋跳死亡舞,

白骨腐虫甚热衷,亡灵巫术灵魂驻。

对魂诱捕又奴役,邪恶法术他自成。

前者却是加里兰,魔法勇亮似白昼。

灰塞波拉塔高耸,塔下责问腐虫师,

“邪恶秘术非良物,君力源源不可持,

精魂世界尽惊惧,君之研习需中止。”

生命平和均憎恶,曼尼马可惟藐视。

重回黑暗术法中,死亡衰败涂绘稠。

噢,那圣岛亚蒂姆,察觉威胁甚缓迟,

可怕真相旦揭露,惩罚却似耳旁风。

曼尼马可如恶鬼,智者之岛送远程,

去到大陆晨曦美,收割更多死魂灵。

“诸君知其为恶狼,却害羊群补兽精,”

向师叹息加里兰,“大陆必遭恐怖至。”

“切莫多谈其之事,”灰披贤者如此言。

冷酷无情众师长,加里兰非首次见,

人与精灵皆无视,索居孤岛躲宫殿。

是时成立新教团,加里兰非首次思,

强大法师之公会,真正魔法布人世。

此次他终决心下,拜别亚蒂姆蓝湾。

噢,瓦努斯·加里兰,其歌传唱千百次,

斩断赛伊克锁链,传布魔法至凡间。

经年持续重重见,曼尼马可恶手残,

泰姆瑞尔之沙漠,林地城镇与海山。

黑暗如掌紧铚喾,恶疾遍地竞流传。

门下黑暗亡灵师,往昔旧器诅咒肆。

疯狂法师并巫汉,器具呈递他面前,

染血药草疯狂长,沾腥油脂满罪窟,

阿卡维尔甜蜜毒,圣人骨尘人皮束,

毒蕈块根并他物,炼金架上排拥堵,

如同蜘蛛网中待,吮力尽自众从仆,

曼尼马可腐虫王,首个不死巫妖见。

腐败重重叠腐败,直至核心皆已烂,

曼尼马可仍为名,身体思想却不同

活尸行走人世间,人性皆弃万事空。

脉搏阵阵不见血,有毒酸液在翻腾。

可怕收集日益多,力量生命日益盛。

器物神奇皆大能,往昔诅咒长流传。

谤曰加里兰出走,公会“困境”难以度,

谎言却乃毒物溪,奔腾污染时间河。

巅峰全力睹虫王,惟见虫王兴罪恶,

叮咛法师与灯骑,“吾之末息尚未终,

亲身对决虫暴君,送其不死归冥宫。”

引领众人直向北,去到咒地穿山路。

噢,幸存诸君皆言,此战奇异不曾有。

魔法坚硬为护甲,手执附魔剑与斧,

加里兰纵声高呼,“腐虫之王弃奇物,

并力交于吾保管,如此送君入长眠。”

空洞狂笑出回音,虫王回以“君死先”。

法师大军遂开战,可憎恶党乃仇雠。

火霜之波如排浪,想象众山亦颤抖,

闪电光弧划向前,图中爆破似龙叹。

战斗法师化落木,扬飞如雨坠自天,

亡灵巫师齐召唤,尸骨出泥兀自战,

圣光洪流齐冲刷,纷纷归尘重命断。

能量漩涡放手搏,血流漂橹河溪厚。

似若晴天之霹雳,又如雄狮之狂吼,

有似剃刀卷蕾丝,装饰绣纹皆裂断,

轻轻一触加里兰,撼动山脚至峰颠。

死亡大军受重创,垂死呼喊自地底,

呼唤森森至深处,腐虫之王真身起。

亡灵巫师与法师,奈恩尖啸为战愁。

其目炯炯闪暗火,无齿之颌自张合,

呼吸深沉气流入,作呕恶臭黑暗出,

毒气笼罩无幸免,冰冷察觉死亡触。

山峦之上本白昼,黑暗吞噬苍白光,

曼尼马可腐虫王,阴暗力量突败亡:

腐败骨爪空无物,死亡神器落尘泽。

善恶皆有千数逝,汗青凿凿言彼状。

而瓦努斯·加里兰,亦于其中走亡路,

曼尼马可似身灭,彼日彻彻化尘土。

亡灵巫师鸟兽散,恶人无谋陷惊恐,

诅咒器具细看守,法师公会胜利终,

不死之姿却维持,器具主人腐虫王。

若当阴影过睡榻,总角切记细聆听,

彼时村落正入梦,街角冷落人群空,

双月光辉透夜云,月光不祥怒火重,

坟场愿为安息地,期盼亡者陷永眠。

细语丝丝得以闻,步履轻叩蹑足间,

此时定要做祈祷,免遭虫王凶触叮。

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Mannimarco, King of Worms
by Horicles
Biography of Mannimarco, the leader of Necromancers, in verse


O sacred isle Artaeum, where rosy light infuses air,
O'er towers and through flowers, gentle breezes flow,
Softly sloping green-kissed cliffs to crashing foam below,
Always springtide afternoon housed within its border,
This mystic, mist-protected home of the Psijic Order:
Those counselors of kings, cautious, wise, and fair.
 
Ten score years and thirty since the mighty Remans fell,
Two brilliant students studied within the Psijics' fold.
One's heart was light and warm, the other dark and cold.
The madder latter, Mannimarco, whirled in a deathly dance,
His soul in bones and worms, the way of the necromance.
Entrapping and enslaving souls, he cast a wicked spell.
 
The former, Galerion had magic bold and bright as day.
He confronted Mannimarco beneath gray Ceporah Tower,
Saying, 'Your wicked mysticism is no way to wield your power,
Bringing horror to the spirit world, your studies must cease.'
Mannimarco scoffed, hating well the ways of life and peace,
And returned to his dark artistry; his paints, death and decay.
 
O sacred isle Artaeum, how slow to perceive the threat,
When the ghastly truth revealed, how weak the punishment.
The ghoulish Mannimarco from the isle of the wise was sent
To the mainland Dawn's Beauty, more death and souls to reap.
'You have found a wolf, and sent the beast to flocks of sheep,'
Galerion told his Masters, 'A terror on Tamriel has set.'
 
'Speak no more of him,' the sage Cloaks of Gray did say.
'Twas not the first time Galerion thought his Masters callous,
Unconcerned for men and mer, aloof in their island palace.
'Twas not the first time Galerion thought 'twas time to build
A new Order to bring true magic to all, a mighty Mages Guild.
But 'twas the time he left, at last, fair Artaeum's azure bay.
 
O, but sung we have of Vanus Galerion many times before,
How cast he off the Psijics' chains, bringing magic to the land.
Throughout the years, he saw the touch of Mannimarco's hand,
Through Tamriel's deserts, forests, towns, mountains, and seas.
The dark grip stretching out, growing like some dread disease
By his dark Necromancers, collecting cursed artifacts of yore.
 
They brought to him these tools, mad wizards and witches,
And brought blood-tainted herbs and oils to his cave of sin,
Sweet Akaviri poison, dust from saints, sheafs of human skin,
Toadstools, roots, and much more cluttered his alchemical shelf,
Like a spider in his web, he sucked all their power into himself,
Mannimarco, Worm King, world's first of the undying liches.
 
Corruption on corruption, 'til the rot sunk to his very core,
Though he kept the name Mannimarco, his body and his mind
Were but a living, moving corpse as he left humanity behind.
The blood in his veins became instead a poison acid stew.
His power and his life increased as his fell collection grew.
Mightiest were these artifacts, long cursed since days of yore.
 
They say Galerion left the Guild, calling it 'a morass,'
But untruth is a powerful stream, polluting the river of time.
Galerion beheld Mannimarco's rise through powers sublime,
To his mages and Lamp Knights, 'Before my last breath,
Face I must the tyranny of worms, and kill at last, undeath.'
He led them north to cursed lands, to a mountain pass.
 
O those who survived the battle say its like was never seen.
Armored with magicka, armed with ensorcelled sword and axe,
Galerion cried, echoing, 'Worm King, surrender your artifacts,
And their power to me, and you shall live as befits the dead.'
A hollow laugh answered, 'You die first,' Mannimarco said.
The mage army then clashed with the unholy force obscene.
 
Imagine waves of fire and frost, and the mountain shivers,
Picture lightning arching forth, crackling in a dragon's sigh.
Like leaves, the battlemages fly to rain down from the sky,
At the Necromancers' call, corpses burst from earth to fight,
To be shattered into nothingness with a flood of holy light.
A maelstrom of energy unleashed, blood cascades in rivers.
 
Like a thunderburst in blue skies or a lion's sudden roar,
Like sharp razors tearing over delicate embroidered lace,
So at a touch did Galerion shake the mountain to its base.
The deathly horde fell fatally, but heeding their dying cries
From the depths, the thing they called Worm King did rise.
Nirn itself did scream in the Mages' and Necromancers' war
 
His eyes burning dark fire, he opened his toothless maw,
Vomiting darkness with each exhalation of his breath,
All sucking in the fetid air felt the icy touch of death.
In the skies above the mountain, darkness overcame pale,
Then Mannimarco Worm King felt his dismal powers fail:
The artifacts of death pulled from his putrid skeletal claw.
 
A thousand good and evil perished then, history confirms.
Among, alas, Vanus Galerion, he who showed the way,
It seemed once that Mannimarco had truly died that day.
Scattered seemed the Necromancers, wicked, ghastly fools,
Back to the Mages Guild, victors kept the accursed tools,
Of him, living still in undeath, Mannimarco, King of Worms.
 
Children, listen as the shadows cross your sleeping hutch,
And the village sleeps away, streets emptied of the crowds,
And the moons do balefully glare through the nightly clouds,
And the graveyard's people rest, we hope, in eternal sleep,
Listen and you'll hear the whispered tap of the footsteps creep,
Then pray you'll never feel the Worm King's awful touch.

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