Ash

[Ilikefooddude 430]

Each noise was a blessing here- each sense a small joy. He was rich tonight. Around him a soft breeze blew. He felt it; brushing over his coarse hide as a river does a jagged rock. Perhaps if he stood for long enough he would turn flat and clean and polished. Through the nose he did not know he’d brought he smelt it; clean and sharp and strong the earth the rocks the trees beside him. So rare: here. Through his eyes his saw it; an oil canvas, ruined by a smear of trifled beauty. There he stood, there he felt, there he knew he’d known this place- back in time, back there, that place. A cold north wood.


But as the world melted around him, Thurak frowned. From a pitch, starless sky, the black snow of fire covered what grace once was and left scars of brimstone and nether-lights to harden around his boots. Trees shrunk and clawed at the air; their tainted limbs smouldering like coals amongst a dying furnace.  And the Shaman shuddered at the change. What foliage left unsmothered petrified, standing as prongs of razor organics bearing the stillness of metal with the fetid fluidity of unlife.
Atop a great mountain the earth itself moulded to this diseased will, ascending in unnatural twisting tendrils to the heavens. A tower grew, and the structures of men balked as its shadow spread outwards in all directions. A sanctuary of death born by death to breed it. And oh how it grew.

 

 

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The Farseer soon travels the roads, clad in an old, worn looking robe. With him he grips a wood carved staff embellished humbly with writing in some old, dead language and softly hued malachite. He talks of the Undead and the Shamans, and even goes so far as to claim to be able to aid those afflicted by curses brought upon by the Arch-Daemon’s unholy magics. How much truth he speaks is yet to be seen, but such a straightforward opposition by one of the most uninvolved individuals of Athera might not be taken lightly.
Meanwhile, a small shop on the outskirts of San’Vitar might be noticed to be bearing a new sign.

 

[VampsWillDie 76]

((You write beautifully.))

 

Gwen passes by, seeing the shop and noting it to herself, skipping along.

[DecoLamb 959]

[[Yaaaaaaas! Moar orc writings, give me more!]]

[Lita 677]

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