Sitting, Lurking, Stirring

[Treshure 5817]

 

 

–

 

 

Your carriage has veered the beaten path of this world’s routes. You have gone through old, ancient, and then forgotten places. A traveler, a merchant, a statesman? Your role does not matter. All of such embark on their own journey of meaning. The beaten and haggard faces of your wagon’s companions stare back at you. You begin to wonder if they bear the same yearning of purpose as you do. Perhaps they are simply lost. Aren’t you?

 

You have arrived.

 

A derelict and trodden wasteland lies before you. The sun scorches it in the day and freezes its windswept planes by night. The ephemeral powers of Man are nowhere to be seen, for there is little to yield of this place than dust and bones. Have great Empires ruled this desert? Was its dried husk a bountiful strait millenia ago? There is little evidence of such. The winds grow by the hour and force you to a cavernous shelter; a massive storm brews on the horizon.

 

The cave is deep and unending, filled with a dim red light that hangs on its walls. A soft howl fills the air. Is it the storm above, or something below? The cave slopes downwards, with jumping shadows now pitching across the cavernous ceilings. At its deepest ends lies a brazier alive with fire. The ruby tone seen before has grown to a sickly crimson ichor, smeared in thick fashion across the walls around you. 

 

Etchings ornate these colors; that of orcs, angels, demons, and curses. Burnt and blackened bodies lay before the brazier. Above it are etched three ivory sentences; the letters are jagged, cruel, and without remorse.

 

- BLOOD IS WATER -

- ORDER IS DEATH -

- WAR IS PEACE -

 

Something is coming for you.

 

((Clan post coming soon.))