A Giant Sleeps, a Nuruk Awakens
May 24, 2022 7:26:08 GMT 1
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Belouch, Nishikienrai, and 1 more like this
Post by johtul on May 24, 2022 7:26:08 GMT 1
His dreams were filled with pain. Ghastly, skeletal hands – his own – reaching out and slaying dwarr, leafborn, nuruk. Wretched couldn’t get enough. A blowpipe in his hand one night, an axe on another. Constant raiding and screams brought joy to his nights. Each day the giant longed to go back to the mists, back to where he could be strong and kill indiscriminately, no matter how many times his enemies struck him down.
There was a place, long forgotten; the rings whispered to him. So he followed them. Alone and naked, the giant entered the shrine. Standing beneath the altar he spoke the rite. Blood pooled around his feet and his screams filled the air. Dark mists filled the chamber as grasping arms clawed their way from the ground to pull him in. Finally, Wretched smiled.
-
His dreams were filled with pain. Ghastly, skeletal hands – his own – reaching out and slaying dwarr, leafborn, nuruk. Johtul had slept enough. His faction thought he was dead, or at least doomed to sleep eternally in the halls of the ancients, but one calm morning he awoke screaming. Tumbling from the raised stone on which he had been laid, the nuruk landed on his hands and knees, gasping for breath and dripping sweat.
How long had it been? He remembered his last moments, being struck down by an Order raiding party, but since then it felt like he had lived lifetimes. Many short, horrid lifetimes. The scars from his own life still covered his body – those helped anchor him to what was real. He stood and stumbled on long-untested legs out of the chamber and into the open. The cool air stung his lungs and the morning sun blinded him as he stepped back into the world. Nevertheless, Johtul smiled.
There was a place, long forgotten; the rings whispered to him. So he followed them. Alone and naked, the giant entered the shrine. Standing beneath the altar he spoke the rite. Blood pooled around his feet and his screams filled the air. Dark mists filled the chamber as grasping arms clawed their way from the ground to pull him in. Finally, Wretched smiled.
-
His dreams were filled with pain. Ghastly, skeletal hands – his own – reaching out and slaying dwarr, leafborn, nuruk. Johtul had slept enough. His faction thought he was dead, or at least doomed to sleep eternally in the halls of the ancients, but one calm morning he awoke screaming. Tumbling from the raised stone on which he had been laid, the nuruk landed on his hands and knees, gasping for breath and dripping sweat.
How long had it been? He remembered his last moments, being struck down by an Order raiding party, but since then it felt like he had lived lifetimes. Many short, horrid lifetimes. The scars from his own life still covered his body – those helped anchor him to what was real. He stood and stumbled on long-untested legs out of the chamber and into the open. The cool air stung his lungs and the morning sun blinded him as he stepped back into the world. Nevertheless, Johtul smiled.