Within the Dark Country
from Fare Thee Well Battle Winds by Fen Walker
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Streaming + DownloadIncludes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.Purchasable with gift card
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Buy the Full Digital Album
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"Fare Thee Well Battle Winds" 12" black and purple swirl vinyl. Edition by Repose Records
Record/Vinyl + Digital AlbumA Repose Records edition of "Fare Thee Well Battle Winds," with expanded art on a gatefold sleeve and a black and purple swirl vinyl.
Ships only within the USA
Includes unlimited streaming of Fare Thee Well Battle Winds via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.Sold Out
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"Fare Thee Well Battle Winds" black and purple 12' vinyl and Barrow Seeker Patch combo
Record/Vinyl + Digital AlbumA bundle that includes both a 12" vinyl of "Fare Thee Well Battle Winds," and a Barrow Seeker woven patch. Limited to 1 per customer.
Ships only in the USA
Includes unlimited streaming of Fare Thee Well Battle Winds via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.Sold Out
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Limited Edition Cassette
Cassette + Digital AlbumVenture into the frozen territory of Ur! Fen Walker's silvery Pro Cassette brings this epic fantasy to life with exceptional O-card packaging. A 4oz. Totem Woods candle to whisk you through the snow covered forests and the windy battlegrounds. Includes a transparent Fen Walker sticker and album art poster painted by fantasy lord Brendan Elliot!
Includes unlimited streaming of Fare Thee Well Battle Winds via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.Sold Out
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Battle Damaged Edition! 12" Vinyl (READ DESCRIPTION BEFORE ORDERING)
Record/Vinyl + Digital AlbumREAD BEFORE ORDERING: The jackets on these vinyl were damaged during shipment, therefore I am offering them at a discount. The corners of the jackets show creases and wear from where the boxes were dropped by the shipping company. These are sold as is and are non-returnable.
See pictures for an example of damage.
Available in the USA only.
Includes unlimited streaming of Fare Thee Well Battle Winds via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.Sold Out
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Wayfarer's Winter War Bundle
Cassette + Digital AlbumThese are artist copies of the Lamp and Dagger release of "Fare Thee Well Battle Winds." This bundle includes a pro-dubbed cassette with O-card, a hand-crafted candle, a poster, and a die-cut sticker.
Includes unlimited streaming of Fare Thee Well Battle Winds via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.Sold Out
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Full Digital Discography
Get all 6 Fen Walker releases available on Bandcamp and save 25%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Behold! Visions From the Scrying Pool!, Fare Thee Well Battle Winds, Hark! The Whispering Dead of the Burial Lake, Sojourns in the Realm of the Undermoon, The Totem Wilds Call Thy Name, and Hail! O' Barrow Lands!.
Purchasable with gift card$7.50 USD or more (25% OFF)
lyrics
She followed the eastern coast northward, taking the road pilgrims traveled on their way to the barrow lands. The Bog Landers had not followed her past their borders, though she remained watchful, they would not give up their treasure without reprisal. The heavy loom of winter descended as she traveled, the autumn winds turning from its chill bluster to a biting cold. Before long, The Mother rose to reveal a land white with hoarfrost. Upon waking each morning, Woja removed The Tusk from her satchel and hugged its moss covered form to her chest, its warmth radiating into her, giving her strength for what exertions lay before her.
She had faired the barrow road and the cross country trek through the frozen peat bogs and pine forests without incident. Early on she had confirmed what she had sensed since of her trek up the barrow road, that she was being followed. Off in the distance she heard that same haunted baying that had sounded in the bogs. The week before, she had watched from atop an escarpment as a patch of distant pines were tossed and felled as something made its way between and around their mighty trunks. After that, she had quickened her pace.
Winter was beginning in earnest by the time Woja came upon the wicker gate. She cut into the palm of her left hand and pressed it against the intricate weave of the gate, allowing the blood to drip down its brambles. Many had passed through this threshold to the Totem Wilds, and many had paid the fee: something of themselves. There was the near blackened stain of blood that coated the bottom six feet of the gate, the skulls and bones of family members, rings, weapons, clothes: All payment for passage. There was nothing stopping a person from simply ignoring the gate and walking past it, or simply through it, but all who respected the dead paid their due. Woja, having paid hers, stepped through and into the dark country.
She traveled for days amongst funerary platforms, cairns and ancestral idols. Ur had been gouged here and great slabs of her flesh rose up to the darkened, cloud heavy sky. This had been the place of the Great Decision, the war that ushered in the age of refusal, a war where sorcerers grappled in eldritch struggle, their flesh rippling and changing, their humanity falling away while engines of the ancients were brought to bear against each other. Ur was wounded, a contusion so deep her molten blood issued forth from the rent. Soon after, sorcerers were hunted down like Vyrpa. Fortresses of stone were abandoned. The dead were exalted while the living of Ur gave their life to the protection of their lands and ancestors. The engines of the ancients were forgotten to rust and ruin.
The Khan had risen forth from the permafrost once Woja had scrapped away the seal with the tip of The Tusk, now affixed to her spear shaft. The ground cracked and he had forced his skeletal form through with little difficulty. He stood well over 3 meters; a massive form twisted and strengthened by forbidden sorcery. He stood and stared down at the woman before him, holding a weapon he had only heard of in myth, a weapon he had even once sought in life and never found.
“The girl child of my conqueror, I smell her in your blood,” he said, his voice a deep rasp, “she comes to gloat you know, you mother, for she is free, though I am not.” The skeletal form took a step forth, bones creaking and armor groaning. Woja stood firm, spear point steady. “She told me you would come, and I told her I would not aid you.”
“You will, for I know what you desire,” Woja said.
“Do you? No doubt your mother has told you what transpired between us.”
“She did. It matters not, you will teach my people in the ways of war and lead them in battle, and I will restore you to your rightful resting place.”
“My Mausoleum by the sea,” the kingly corpse said. “Perhaps I ask of your spear point in my breast?”
“And lay you low?”
“Yes, your mother’s punishment was sound. I no longer bear my former ambitions, my rage has fled and my bones are brittle, I only wish now for the eternal sleep.”
“Then you will aid us?” Woja said lowering her spear point. There was the creak of bone as the Khan raised his head and looked to the distant Spine with eyeless sockets.
“I will.”
“Very well, follow, we have long to go,” Woja said, not trusting this skeletal giant, and glad to have The Tusk clutched in her fist.
She had faired the barrow road and the cross country trek through the frozen peat bogs and pine forests without incident. Early on she had confirmed what she had sensed since of her trek up the barrow road, that she was being followed. Off in the distance she heard that same haunted baying that had sounded in the bogs. The week before, she had watched from atop an escarpment as a patch of distant pines were tossed and felled as something made its way between and around their mighty trunks. After that, she had quickened her pace.
Winter was beginning in earnest by the time Woja came upon the wicker gate. She cut into the palm of her left hand and pressed it against the intricate weave of the gate, allowing the blood to drip down its brambles. Many had passed through this threshold to the Totem Wilds, and many had paid the fee: something of themselves. There was the near blackened stain of blood that coated the bottom six feet of the gate, the skulls and bones of family members, rings, weapons, clothes: All payment for passage. There was nothing stopping a person from simply ignoring the gate and walking past it, or simply through it, but all who respected the dead paid their due. Woja, having paid hers, stepped through and into the dark country.
She traveled for days amongst funerary platforms, cairns and ancestral idols. Ur had been gouged here and great slabs of her flesh rose up to the darkened, cloud heavy sky. This had been the place of the Great Decision, the war that ushered in the age of refusal, a war where sorcerers grappled in eldritch struggle, their flesh rippling and changing, their humanity falling away while engines of the ancients were brought to bear against each other. Ur was wounded, a contusion so deep her molten blood issued forth from the rent. Soon after, sorcerers were hunted down like Vyrpa. Fortresses of stone were abandoned. The dead were exalted while the living of Ur gave their life to the protection of their lands and ancestors. The engines of the ancients were forgotten to rust and ruin.
The Khan had risen forth from the permafrost once Woja had scrapped away the seal with the tip of The Tusk, now affixed to her spear shaft. The ground cracked and he had forced his skeletal form through with little difficulty. He stood well over 3 meters; a massive form twisted and strengthened by forbidden sorcery. He stood and stared down at the woman before him, holding a weapon he had only heard of in myth, a weapon he had even once sought in life and never found.
“The girl child of my conqueror, I smell her in your blood,” he said, his voice a deep rasp, “she comes to gloat you know, you mother, for she is free, though I am not.” The skeletal form took a step forth, bones creaking and armor groaning. Woja stood firm, spear point steady. “She told me you would come, and I told her I would not aid you.”
“You will, for I know what you desire,” Woja said.
“Do you? No doubt your mother has told you what transpired between us.”
“She did. It matters not, you will teach my people in the ways of war and lead them in battle, and I will restore you to your rightful resting place.”
“My Mausoleum by the sea,” the kingly corpse said. “Perhaps I ask of your spear point in my breast?”
“And lay you low?”
“Yes, your mother’s punishment was sound. I no longer bear my former ambitions, my rage has fled and my bones are brittle, I only wish now for the eternal sleep.”
“Then you will aid us?” Woja said lowering her spear point. There was the creak of bone as the Khan raised his head and looked to the distant Spine with eyeless sockets.
“I will.”
“Very well, follow, we have long to go,” Woja said, not trusting this skeletal giant, and glad to have The Tusk clutched in her fist.
credits
from Fare Thee Well Battle Winds,
released November 5, 2021
Wayfarer-orchestration
Wayfarer-orchestration
license
all rights reserved
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about
Fen Walker Portland, Oregon
The music of the barbaric and sorcery scarred lands of Ur.
discography
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May 2022 -
Nov 2021 -
Nov 2020 -
Nov 2020 -
May 2020 -
Nov 2019 -
Aug 2019
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