14th Felsite
I see now…I see. The haze which had covered my mind since the attack on my legs has cleared, and the thing which I had caught a glimpse of in the thoughts of Armok is revealed to me. I have followed the strings of the puppeteer…and now I know where they lead. The lairs of his minions are revealed to me! I sit still in the hospital bed I was dragged to, but now I see beyond its drab walls…my mind follows the strings…follows to a place of black stone and icy glass. I struggle, my body trying to fit through the eye of the needle. Pushing…pushing…There! My body goes from my hospital bed and reappears in that land of glass and stone monoliths. A castle of deepest black surrounds me. Down the middle of the hall I stand in runs a carpet of deepest red. Blood red. The colours of Armok, black and red. I grin. The secrets of Armok’s travel are now mine!
I walk through the halls of Armok’s land, looking for something to talk to. Doors of ebony slam open and shut of their own accord. Looking into one of the rooms I see chains of midnight black hanging from an unimaginably high ceiling and, draped on them, the figures of humans and dwarves, elves and kobolds, fighting, pushing…dying. The bones and corpses of the fallen litter the ruby-red ground. Another reveals a pool of tar and screaming faces stretching through it to the low-slung ceiling before the door slams shut with a crash. After that I stop looking and focus on my goal. A door of vermillion stands at the end of the corridor, the ebony doors dwarfed by its immensity.
By the time I reach those doors my back aches and I can no longer feel my legs. A trail of blood from my reopened wounds follows me before it is absorbed by the carpet. I try not to think of it as the castle drinking my blood…I don’t think I could stand another servant of Armok… sipping… drinking… Light! The doors loom before me. With one gauntlet clad fist I knock on it, using what strength I have left. No answer. With a grunt, I ram my shoulder against it and shoving, pushing and heaving I force it open to the sound of groaning wood.
I stand now in a hall of midnight. No other splash of colour paints it except black. Rows of wooden pillars stained dark march in rows down the side, standing on floors of black marble. Benches and chairs of the same wood as the pillars sit in silent rows as if waiting. Paying them no heed, I walk in further. On my third step a grinding noise echoes in the chamber and a door opens from the rock. I stare in surprise as a single file of black-and-red robed figures walk in and sit down. A single chair remains at the end and, inching forward, I sit in it. As one they lower their hoods to reveal red, staring eyes set deep in green-skinned gaunt faces. Goblins. Supressing my disgust, I stand and speak to them, the fools who believe me to be a messenger of Armok. When I am done they nod and stand, shuffling out. I imagine home, follow the puppeteers strings…squeeze…
15th Felsite
Timeless Bob came to me in the night and told me to go to the battlements, there was something I should see. I followed him curiously through the halls and reached the battlements, NAV and the crossbow Forumites proving their worth as they fire bolt after bolt into the assembled horde. On the horizon a cloud of dust could be seen and, at its base, a band of Goblins. I grinned viciously, for they had fallen for it. The fools had sent troops to our aid, at what they thought was the will of Armok!
I watch with glee as the goblins charge in their holy crusade, plunging deep into Fain’s forces. The zombies cry out in anger as they recognise minions of Armok, and their grasping hands reach out…and are cut off by goblin blades. They shudder, regain life and rise again, renewing their attack. Slowly, the goblins are beaten back, shouting in a guttural language to a thicket of trees some distance away. Backup arrives, nearly too late.
three more ambushes, only one has any success. I watch as they slay their foes quicker than they can rise again. Then one has an arm ripped off. It descends into bloody froth after that. No survivors. My plan to rid the surface of the dead has failed, but I have had another idea...one which involves the hot seething cauldron beneath our feet.
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Sorry this took so long to write and how short it is, it has been a really long couple of days and if I had tried writing anything it would most likely have been terrible anyway.
Poll
Author
Topic: Necrothreat II - A Fort Cursed by the Gods! (Read 472662 times)