Prologue:
The sun, heavy and red along the horizon, lowered it's great face, seeking to hide it's sight from the view that it looked upon every day. From far enough above, this bit of land looked like a scar upon the earth, a darkened rust that diseased the land and all that dwelt upon it. If you came closer, lowering yourself down to the grass as if one of the damned mortal beings that survived in this land, the grass your feet would touch upon seems dead at first, dry and cracking. Closer inspection would show it still alive, if not in the usual sense. Brown as if dead and dying, but stained red, what soaked this land could only be described as a corruption.. In the not-quite-exact center, if you could make it that far, you would find ruins of a once great city, it's walls fallen into disrepair. Besides the few houses that still stood defiant against the blight, the only proof that this was indeed a city is the towered keep. Inside this keep is where our focus leads. Seated on a large bonewhite throne, a deeply coweld figure taps it's blackened claw on the arms rest. This creature was feeling impatient... The blasted messenger was supposed to be back from that foolish whelp.... Oh, why did he have to rely on lesser creatures?
 ShdwWolf · Thu Mar 15, 2012 @ 09:59pm · 0 Comments |
