Thunder clouds rolled across the sky pulled by the Goddess Neket and her four strong slate grey horses. If the myths were to be believed it was the force of their hooves hitting the sky with such speed that caused the flashes of brilliant light that illuminated the clouds from within. A single, deadly lightning bolt plummeted to earth and scorched the land around it to dust. As the light faded and the eye readjusted to the darkness of the storm at the centre of that ashen ground stood a giant of a man. His black trench coat flapped madly about his ankles in the wind and rain that lashed at the ground but he did not pull it closed to shield himself for the elements. He hardly seemed to notice it at all. His focus was entirely on the charred remains of the once modestly sized market town below...
Nestled in the crook of the Tarreden Hills, the Whispering Hills had been a pleasant little market town that had enjoyed reasonable trade and success over the last few years owing to its favourable position on the Silk Road that stretched across the two continents known as Epressa and Liadain. The day had started like any other with bright autumnal sunshine and the biting frost that heralded winter's arrival on their doors. Bakers had risen early to put in the fresh loaves, the maids in the inn had thrown open doors and shutters to air out the previous evenings dirty straw and the smell of stale alcohol. Farmers who had already been up for hours trundled into town with their bounty to sell at the weekly Sunday market. None of them had remarked on a stranger in their midst who had muttered to himself as he walked. If they had, perhaps their day would have gone a different way. If they had, they might have been alive to answer Nazarach's questions.
As it was all he could do was wander the streets beneath the still raging storm. After two miles the blue sky started anew though it was tinging with the reds of a bloody sunset. There was nothing he could do now but try to calm it and coax it to fizzle out. The storm giant had assumed his more humane height but it still made him stand out when there was nothing but charred bones and half collapsed houses all around him. He paused as the wind blew away the burnt remains of what must have been a cupboard door. A teddy lay there forlornly without its owner and he bent to pick it up with a sigh. Such destruction and for what reason? The Tempest Stone could be used in many ways but this seemed careless and random as though the owner had not been able to resist its seducing whispers.
He glanced up at a sound that did not belong to the storm and slowly stood to see if he could spy what else had been drawn to the crime.
Nestled in the crook of the Tarreden Hills, the Whispering Hills had been a pleasant little market town that had enjoyed reasonable trade and success over the last few years owing to its favourable position on the Silk Road that stretched across the two continents known as Epressa and Liadain. The day had started like any other with bright autumnal sunshine and the biting frost that heralded winter's arrival on their doors. Bakers had risen early to put in the fresh loaves, the maids in the inn had thrown open doors and shutters to air out the previous evenings dirty straw and the smell of stale alcohol. Farmers who had already been up for hours trundled into town with their bounty to sell at the weekly Sunday market. None of them had remarked on a stranger in their midst who had muttered to himself as he walked. If they had, perhaps their day would have gone a different way. If they had, they might have been alive to answer Nazarach's questions.
As it was all he could do was wander the streets beneath the still raging storm. After two miles the blue sky started anew though it was tinging with the reds of a bloody sunset. There was nothing he could do now but try to calm it and coax it to fizzle out. The storm giant had assumed his more humane height but it still made him stand out when there was nothing but charred bones and half collapsed houses all around him. He paused as the wind blew away the burnt remains of what must have been a cupboard door. A teddy lay there forlornly without its owner and he bent to pick it up with a sigh. Such destruction and for what reason? The Tempest Stone could be used in many ways but this seemed careless and random as though the owner had not been able to resist its seducing whispers.
He glanced up at a sound that did not belong to the storm and slowly stood to see if he could spy what else had been drawn to the crime.
