1st Granite
I called for the advance; I must then pay for the pain caused. But still, a babe…Well, it is but one more burden I must bear in this, my battle against the gods themselves. Fain’s minions had infiltrated the fortress, and we had to throw them out again with blades and steel. Sulin should have known not to bring her child into a fight…Curse the Aiel and their stubbornness! She brought it to the gates to fight the zombified limbs which had over taken the entrance. With her help we drove them back, but lost her child. This is but one more thing for me to carry, one more thing to grind me into the dirt. When I close my eyes I can almost see the shimmering isles of what, for lack of a better word to describe an absence of Fain and Armok, I have called the Light. Almost, I feel the breeze tinged with salt ruffling my beard…And then I open my eyes and see the walls stained with soot and blood. Oh well. I must make Necrothreat that paradise. I must. I will. Why does it feel like such a big task?
2nd Granite-Near midnight
As night falls a deeper shadow moves amongst the bones and grime of Necrothreat’s gardens. An evil intent gathers itself, pushing forward. Trying….trying to take form. A whirlwind of fallen leaves and blood-soaked soil is tossed about in its inky depths. One more push…one more. There. A shape forms, using the night to take the appearance of being, using the wind to move. It feeds on hate and anger, and it has found a feast here. With a baring of sharp teeth, the thing finds what its hollowed eyes were looking for. A corpse lays nearby, shrouded in the darkness. Moving on through the blackness of night, it sees the decapitated head and its gruesome smile gets wider. Perfect. Without a sound, it fills every nuance, every space inside it. Shuddering, the head rises and opens its eyes. Ur has returned to Necrothreat in his truest form, the skull of dread!
Opening his new-found mouth he prepares to speak, to issue his proclamation, his denouncement of doom. To tell all who hear his fell voice on the wind that their end is nigh, that they should flee and cower, for their death has arrived. The harbinger of death, Ur, has come forth from his long sleep and is ready to devour another Necrothreat. A low growl comes from his mouth, and then trails off into a gasping wheeze. Ur’s eyes widen in shock, and he tries again to proclaim his arrival, but with the same results.
He glides silently over to a stagnant pool choked with weeds and debris. Looking in he sees nothing but a vague silhouette, but then as the harvest moon breaks through the roiling clouds above he sees-A snout, floppy ears, a lolling, slobbering tongue. The great, the terrible, the mighty Ur roared and howled at the sky in anguish and hatred. A dog. He had taken a dog’s head. In Necrothreat Forumites turned in their beds, and those still awake turned to their mugs of ale and tried to drown out the noise and warm their chilled blood. They thought they were safe. They thought their walls would hold against anything. It is good that they need never know how wrong they are….
Ur turned from the pool in disgust, unable now to change his form. He had spent too much energy coming, he needed to feed, to create anger and hatred to gorge on in order to change form. Drawing his gums back to show canine teeth, he looks towards Necrothreat. Towards his lunch… The head controls the winds, tells them to buffet and lead him to the gates. He passes hills of dead, beasts of the ancient darkness now lying in pools of their own blood, eyes lifeless. Beings that breathed even before the world was shaped in fire and ice now lay prostate, breath and life hacked from them by Necrothreat. Ur admires the way the bodies all seemed to be cut up so finely, how some of those bits still even move. He feels at home, the one place where death could look like an art form. It is with these thoughts that he passes an unassuming body laying with dismembered head some feet from it….
Light. Warmth. A fire in full blaze, forests bathed in the light of the rising sun. Shadows banished by flame, thought kindled by evil presence. A consciousness appeared from its deep slumber, awoken by the dark. What was its name? It could not remember. What was its purpose? That…that it could remember; To defend Necrothreat from any harm. Light suffusing its entire body, the head rights itself and rises from the ground. It barely makes a noise, and it is covered in congealed gore, stained darkly red.
Its name…what is it? It shouldn’t be important, but it is…What is its name! Slowly, it pieces together disjointed memories of a previous existence…Caring for the wounded, helping the sick, comforting the mourning. Being there for people in times of need, times of grief. A face swims in its inner vision, flaxen hair shining in the lamplight inside Necrothreats walls. She remembers. Her name…her name is Jenny, and she will protect Necrothreat, protect her friends, her family….Sprin, her caring master, mad genius that he was. She will protect them.
Within, from a heart no longer connected to her, she feels the rage of her people, a rising tide of hate and anger…all directed at one being, Ur. Too long…too long have they lived in fear. As like the blood of the earth, their ire rises in her with the force of the magma her ancestors first uncovered. She burns with it…filled to bursting with it…explodes with it. A pillar of white rises in the air, shooting from the now pearly brilliant skull. She will defend. Her people will fight back this night against the scourge of their ancestors!
Illuminated for the first time by this brilliant blast is the cur, Ur. She sees him, and he sees her. They face each other across a field torn and sundered by war. He drags on the last power remaining to him, the power of hate and anger, betrayal and envy. He sucks it in, and forces it to form around him, to shoot into the sky in a spear of purest evil, darkest blackness. In the sky two pillars face each other, strength against strength, life against death. Hound and human prepare, and then pounce…
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
OK Highmax, please tell me you were joking...
That is probably the single most ugly being I have ever seen. And it is me!
That's who you forumite me as. He has
pumpkin hair. People see me and think I'm a Jack o' Lantern for Halloween!
Also, I reforumited Sprin as the head medical dwarf, as I felt he deserved to be there. If you object, Sprin, feel free to lop off a few of my limbs in your usual method of showing disapproval. All current forumites have been completed
Sorry if I milked the whole dog/Jenny thing. Came up in reports and I thought it was hilarious. Also, left this to last. Know how you're struggling with the sword highmax? Well, guess what I like most...
Speaking of weapons, it says Sulin likes spears. You just can't make this stuff up!
Poll
Author
Topic: Necrothreat II - A Fort Cursed by the Gods! (Read 472267 times)