Post by Danzig on Jul 7, 2020 9:09:55 GMT 1
The stink of blood and death was thick upon the plain. A crimson light tainted the skies above, turning the midday sun into a smouldering ember behind the shadowy haze. Overhead, the caws and croaks of circling carrion birds drifted down on fetid winds. Again and again they circled, never breaking, never departing. The reek of death had drawn them from their dwellings to sate their appetite on the abundance of dead flesh lain across the expanse.
A stranger, silhouetted against the burning sun stood upon jagged cliffs. Like the vultures, he waited. He waited for the clashing of steel to fade, for the screams of the dying to dampen. Unlike the vultures, however, he was no scavenger, he was no slinking stalker intent to prey upon the scraps of true predators.
The stranger stood statue still, his short cloak beating against the wind. His frame was straight and tall, his limbs covered in armor of folded black iron and boiled leather which was fastened around his powerful frame. He wore nothing upon his head, his knotted white hair and pale skin standing in stark contrast to his armor.
The stranger’s eyes closed in thought, peering into the darkness of his mind where the breath of the savage gods that beckoned him was a tranquil breeze rather than a violent maelstrom. Here, a new dream had been forged, old oaths and pacts forgotten. This was not a dream of endless slaughter, but one of a timeless empire.
The whispers danced within his maddened mind, calling out to him. This was his ancestor.
This was the Kiith that bound magic to his will, the Norsk that bellowed his battle cry to the raging skies, the Giant that cast fear into the hearts of all that dared stand before him, the Nuruk that tamed the great beasts of the plains.
This was the Forsaken.
Danzig opened his eyes, the smoke from the smouldering embers of the dying campfire stinging his nostrils. He pulled himself to his feet, peering across the landscape, through the great forests and over the ice capped mountains of central Agonia. His scarred gaze met with the great burning clouds in the far east. Clouds that twisted and churned with tendrils of red lightning, stretching out like the fingers of an angry god to call him home. This was a call he would not refuse.
As he stepped into the bone ridden wasteland, his mouth opened to speak the words that echoed within his mind.
“I am but a mortal, who am I to turn from fate?”
A stranger, silhouetted against the burning sun stood upon jagged cliffs. Like the vultures, he waited. He waited for the clashing of steel to fade, for the screams of the dying to dampen. Unlike the vultures, however, he was no scavenger, he was no slinking stalker intent to prey upon the scraps of true predators.
The stranger stood statue still, his short cloak beating against the wind. His frame was straight and tall, his limbs covered in armor of folded black iron and boiled leather which was fastened around his powerful frame. He wore nothing upon his head, his knotted white hair and pale skin standing in stark contrast to his armor.
The stranger’s eyes closed in thought, peering into the darkness of his mind where the breath of the savage gods that beckoned him was a tranquil breeze rather than a violent maelstrom. Here, a new dream had been forged, old oaths and pacts forgotten. This was not a dream of endless slaughter, but one of a timeless empire.
The whispers danced within his maddened mind, calling out to him. This was his ancestor.
This was the Kiith that bound magic to his will, the Norsk that bellowed his battle cry to the raging skies, the Giant that cast fear into the hearts of all that dared stand before him, the Nuruk that tamed the great beasts of the plains.
This was the Forsaken.
Danzig opened his eyes, the smoke from the smouldering embers of the dying campfire stinging his nostrils. He pulled himself to his feet, peering across the landscape, through the great forests and over the ice capped mountains of central Agonia. His scarred gaze met with the great burning clouds in the far east. Clouds that twisted and churned with tendrils of red lightning, stretching out like the fingers of an angry god to call him home. This was a call he would not refuse.
As he stepped into the bone ridden wasteland, his mouth opened to speak the words that echoed within his mind.
“I am but a mortal, who am I to turn from fate?”