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Malakath - Wilds
"Fuck." Lothar said as he kicked the corpse of the odd mammalian beast laying before him. Head shaking as a hand dragged over his face. "Fuck fuck fuck."
The Dreadlord repeated, letting his hand drop away before he glanced around the clearing that had been made in the last fifteen minutes.
Out of all of them, he was the only one left alive. Eleven Guardsmen, two other Dreadlords, and three Civilians. They had been sent from Torrith nearly a month ago, ranging north and to the east as had been ordered. The idea was to eventually, and hopefully, meet up with some of the locals but in truth they'd encountered nothing but disaster.
After nearly forty days of travel they had not met anyone, and after deciding to turn back just two night ago they had encountered...well, Lothar wasn't sure exactly what it was. The beast had been incredibly fast, and oddly enough; immune to all forms of magic. Killing it had been nearly impossible, and in the end he'd only managed it through one of the eyes he'd most wanted to keep. A scowl pulled at his lips as he glanced down at his palm, looking at where the manifestation of the magic had once rested.
In a few days time the now closed eye would turn into a scar, and then it would disappear until another replaced it.
Lothar was used to it now, loathe as he was to admit it.
What he wasn't used to was being alone out here, in this place. Malakath was three times as dangerous as any warzone he'd ever been to, and Torrith was well over a months walk away. Even if he took the eyes of his fallen comrades, his abilities were not enough...not to make it back safely. He frowned slightly, and then suddenly noticed something.
The eye on the back of his bared shoulder shifted, looking to the distance trees. Lothar turned, his true eyes narrowing as he noticed smoke rising through the air. Slowly flowing towards the sky.
A fire? He asked himself, frowning and glancing around. For a moment he considered burying his comrades, but then he thought better of it. Their corpses would draw predators for the day, and here that could save his life. With a frown, and a quick word to the ancients, Lothar began to head towards the smoke.
"Fuck." Lothar said as he kicked the corpse of the odd mammalian beast laying before him. Head shaking as a hand dragged over his face. "Fuck fuck fuck."
The Dreadlord repeated, letting his hand drop away before he glanced around the clearing that had been made in the last fifteen minutes.
Out of all of them, he was the only one left alive. Eleven Guardsmen, two other Dreadlords, and three Civilians. They had been sent from Torrith nearly a month ago, ranging north and to the east as had been ordered. The idea was to eventually, and hopefully, meet up with some of the locals but in truth they'd encountered nothing but disaster.
After nearly forty days of travel they had not met anyone, and after deciding to turn back just two night ago they had encountered...well, Lothar wasn't sure exactly what it was. The beast had been incredibly fast, and oddly enough; immune to all forms of magic. Killing it had been nearly impossible, and in the end he'd only managed it through one of the eyes he'd most wanted to keep. A scowl pulled at his lips as he glanced down at his palm, looking at where the manifestation of the magic had once rested.
In a few days time the now closed eye would turn into a scar, and then it would disappear until another replaced it.
Lothar was used to it now, loathe as he was to admit it.
What he wasn't used to was being alone out here, in this place. Malakath was three times as dangerous as any warzone he'd ever been to, and Torrith was well over a months walk away. Even if he took the eyes of his fallen comrades, his abilities were not enough...not to make it back safely. He frowned slightly, and then suddenly noticed something.
The eye on the back of his bared shoulder shifted, looking to the distance trees. Lothar turned, his true eyes narrowing as he noticed smoke rising through the air. Slowly flowing towards the sky.
A fire? He asked himself, frowning and glancing around. For a moment he considered burying his comrades, but then he thought better of it. Their corpses would draw predators for the day, and here that could save his life. With a frown, and a quick word to the ancients, Lothar began to head towards the smoke.