The Lost Isles
Kol had never quite understood the Dark God's sense of humor. It was an odd it that remained a mystery to this day. Their ways were ever changing, their intent unknown, their desires a complete and utter enigma. They spoke over one another now, whispering arguments in his ear as The Sorcerer and his remaining warriors stood upon the side of the mountain.
A voice rang out behind him, a real one, he thought. Kol could tell from how loud it was. The Dark Gods never shouted, they always whispered. This voice called to him, screamed at him out of rage.
The screaming man was not wrong. The battle had been lost, and in a surprising fashion.
He had originally lead a hundred and fifty warriors through the tundras of the Isle. Skinwolves, Berserkers, Bloodborne and even a few Vir-Bound. Their trek had been a difficult one, and one they had not survived intact. It had been the accursed plague that had struck them half-way through the journey. Most called it simply the Frost, an aching sickness that seemed to slowly turn oneself into stoney ice from the inside out.
The affliction was brought by the Dark Gods themselves, and even Kol's magic had been useless against it.
Near enough a hundred of their number had passed, left behind within the mountains as little more than statues of ice. Now they had not the numbers to take the village below, their warriors not sufficient to fell those within the halls of Cragmoore Bay. Kol knew this, it was why they were standing upon the cliffs edge, watching the torch lights of the city below.
The voice shouted, and for the first time Kol turned his head. The Sorcerer did not look at the yelling man though, no, he looked at the wide chesire grin that floated in the air just to the right of him. No.
Kol thought to himself
No they are still here. Another grin suddenly peeled itself from the air as though in confirmation of his thoughts, the whispers in his head suddenly growing louder. They spoke over one another, some shouting for blood, others demanding subterfuge and stealth, still others clambering for the sacrifice of a mother carrying her child to bring calamanity to Cragmoore Bay.
Kol closed his eyes.
Sudden silenced reigned within his skull as he heard the loud crunch and squelsh as someone slaughtered the screaming man
Kol had never quite understood the Dark God's sense of humor. It was an odd it that remained a mystery to this day. Their ways were ever changing, their intent unknown, their desires a complete and utter enigma. They spoke over one another now, whispering arguments in his ear as The Sorcerer and his remaining warriors stood upon the side of the mountain.
A voice rang out behind him, a real one, he thought. Kol could tell from how loud it was. The Dark Gods never shouted, they always whispered. This voice called to him, screamed at him out of rage.
"WE LOST, SORCERER! LOST!"
The screaming man was not wrong. The battle had been lost, and in a surprising fashion.
He had originally lead a hundred and fifty warriors through the tundras of the Isle. Skinwolves, Berserkers, Bloodborne and even a few Vir-Bound. Their trek had been a difficult one, and one they had not survived intact. It had been the accursed plague that had struck them half-way through the journey. Most called it simply the Frost, an aching sickness that seemed to slowly turn oneself into stoney ice from the inside out.
The affliction was brought by the Dark Gods themselves, and even Kol's magic had been useless against it.
Near enough a hundred of their number had passed, left behind within the mountains as little more than statues of ice. Now they had not the numbers to take the village below, their warriors not sufficient to fell those within the halls of Cragmoore Bay. Kol knew this, it was why they were standing upon the cliffs edge, watching the torch lights of the city below.
"The Dark Gods have abandoned you!"
The voice shouted, and for the first time Kol turned his head. The Sorcerer did not look at the yelling man though, no, he looked at the wide chesire grin that floated in the air just to the right of him. No.
Kol thought to himself
No they are still here. Another grin suddenly peeled itself from the air as though in confirmation of his thoughts, the whispers in his head suddenly growing louder. They spoke over one another, some shouting for blood, others demanding subterfuge and stealth, still others clambering for the sacrifice of a mother carrying her child to bring calamanity to Cragmoore Bay.
Kol closed his eyes.
"YOU! YOU HAVE BROUGHT US TO RUIN YOU WILL BE THE DA-"
Sudden silenced reigned within his skull as he heard the loud crunch and squelsh as someone slaughtered the screaming man