Jump to content

Recommended Posts

   Assad steps through the streets of an empty Kralta. It is devoid of all life, except that of the crows that feast on the carcasses of yaks, and the maggots that follow after. He begins to climb the ancient steps, moving into the towers above. All around him is ruin. The White Rose gone. The Flays gone. Baile gone. Valois. Aldersburgh a shattered husk. Amidst the chaos, the Krelmstad still supports him. A block of stone falls into the chasm below, causing the murky water of the river Bub to cascade upward.

 

2hzig60.png

 

   He travels north, towards Abresi. He moves through the ghettos, looking for the strelts. He watches them squalor in the ruined streets of a fat man's land.

 

   "Did anyone actually accomplish anything!" He hisses, hands gripped into fists. "It seems that we were preparing for something, but all you did was stay calm. All Siegmund did was end an era."

 

   He begins to move through the crowd. "I was always told that this would be the age of daring men. That we would make something of this world, pick up the shattered fragments of Horen V. A world devoid of the fat nobles whom the Horen's catered to. And they are gone now! Yet you stand here, sleeping in their streets. Our castle crumbles! The church of Godanistan is riddled with cobwebs! Our breweries no longer produce Carrion Black! Our livestock starve while you eat the remains of a dead king."

 

   He begins to quiver in anger, in frustration. "You left it to die while you dine on the accomplishments of others! This land should have died with Horen, with some honor still intact!" He stares at a strelt. His voice lowers, "Where is your obstacle?"

 

29p95k3.jpg

 

   Assad looks to the others. "You think you are Raevir!" He screams. "The Raevir would not let the Lions take Kralta. The Raevir would not let the Teutons take Kralta. The Raevir would not let the beastmen kill us. The Raevir would not let the Adunians mock us. The Raevir would not let the Dwarves control us!" He beats his fist against his heart. "You think you are the first to try and kill it!"

 

   He stumbles away from them, gripping his head and muttering, "Where is Ironcrow?"

Link to post
Share on other sites

Orlik sniffs Carrion white from his sleeve, moving with the times and the money Orlik has made quite a life for himself.

Link to post
Share on other sites

"The underbelly of the Krelmstad has grown cold, Orlik. Have you left it to ruin?"

Link to post
Share on other sites

Passes out on his bed, maybe Half-Orc's aren't good at looking after things.

Link to post
Share on other sites

Lark flies overhead on a giant crow from Vacationland. Looking down upon Kralta he ponders upon a conversation with Assad. "May'aps whence te' blacksmithin' guild is organized...I can turn me attention te' me 'ome..."

Link to post
Share on other sites

Orlik walks through Good-Kralta, he notices the long cold smithy; his head filled with nostalgic memory's of the early Kralten days.

Link to post
Share on other sites

Lark sits in the smithy, clearing cobwebs and empty ale bottles out. "Soon."

Link to post
Share on other sites

Moved to the Great Library. It shall be sorted into appropriate category shortly.

Link to post
Share on other sites

Guest
This topic is now closed to further replies.
 Share

  • Recently Browsing   0 members

    No registered users viewing this page.



×
×
  • Create New...