Skirmish at the Crossroads

[Noer 577]

When Timot of Ponce arrived, the crossroads were stained with blood.

 

 

He had lifted up the bottom of his tunic, preventing the blood from staining his clothes, as he stepped
over the decapitated body of a monk.

 

The half severed head of a cultist mage was next, and the two corpses of undead creatures as well.

 

The men and women around the crossroads were adorned with wounds, an orc with the flesh of his body bitten off,
another blinded by illusionary magic, and some stabbed through by the Morghuul’s longsword.

 

He watched the twenty or so men smile and joke in spite of the gore and the wounds on their bodies.

 

This does not bode well, he thought to himself. This was not the first open conflict on the roads between mages and men,
and the increasingly prevalent undead were causing quite the terror at crossroads such as that peculiar one by Veris.

 

However, this was the first time that he had seen such a mass of men assemble in this new land to
expunge the mages and creatures, and perhaps, he thought to himself, a return to older times.

 

 

Those wandering on the roads would soon return back to their cities,
their populaces consolidated to find strength in numbers against the cretins of the outside.
It would not be long, he thought to himself,
until those abominations and sorcerers would be put to the blade--or, should he say, twenty blades.

 

[Ambduscias 1028]

The necromancer responsible listens to a report of his creatures' work, perched atop the walls of a high tower.

 

"Toys marching in lockstep. When they fall, they rise again; the long winter'll come soon, and more are taken by the day - plucked from their homes, from their meals - by the night."

 

"These ones, though... What skill they had in life will be retained; they will make most excellent adjutants,"

 

and he tucked himself back into bed with a bottle of prune juice and a steaming bowl of oatmeal. It was well past his nap time, and his old body wasn't getting any less feeble.

[OzYmandi 647]

"They muse victories, when we were forty to one. Cowards..." Says one of the Morghuul that didn't die, Ratko.

[Chorale__ 2147]

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

 

If you feel this is a mistake, please contact myself or any FM and we'll restore it.