LOST IN THE COSMOS

[femurlord 2428]

 

 

The Sun’s radiance grew to its penultimate, casting light across the cursed forests and the blackstone battlements of Hexicanum and its tumbledown encampments. Amongst mounds of meat and steel, Gashadokuro congregated with his minions in a meeting most diabolical. After the forces of Sakuregakure cursed his name outside the borders of his walled territory, one of many skeletal warriors presented themselves to the Lich-King, wielding a tome of eldritch powers as an offering. “My liege, we have a gift!” 

 

Grasping the Lich’s attention, the creature was compelled to this presented script, wreathing his bony fingers to claim it. Before a, “What” could leave the undead’s rotten mouth, reality peeled back and absorbed him into the tides of here and inbetween. 

 

Many hues of color occupied Gashadokuro’s gaze, alien and eldritch worlds that flickered akin to a film-roll unfurled before him, occupying every morsel of attention before the tides split, spitting him. In a snowy wastes, where blizzards blew, the dark skies split and spat out a red, horned creature to hurdle into the slush! “Ack!” Arose from the crater as the deathly creature rose to scan the horizon, a bleak and frigid domain that dissatisfied the ever-hungering mind of a maddened beast.

 

In his roam, the Lich-King championed mountain-ranges with little heed to the subfrozen temperatures that blew against the asylum of unfeeling bones, searching high and low to understand the realm he was bound to. In Gashadokuro’s journey, the apparition studied the scripts that tore him from the material and into the wastelands that he occupied now, intent to learn its secrets alongside the realm it found. 

 

The manic fire boiling in Gashadokuro’s skull shifted over the barrens, his infernal understanding vindicated as life existed in a constant tug of war, where the tides of battle consisted between snow-eating natives and native-eating snowmen. This cycle of survival captured the Warlock’s attention, crooking at the summit of a hill overseeing nature’s course..

 

In his studies, the crunch of snow and ice captured the Gravelord’s attention, fumes of white beginning to roar into the sky as that mountain hill of slush sloped. An avalanche caught the undead, causing them to roll and tumble with a modicum of alarm as nature descended him onto the battling natives, swallowing all.. In an explosion of stark white, a battlefield became a wonderland where all were amalgamated into the snow.

 

Across that landscape, where the winds howled with ferocity and bitterness, a red hand stuck free, brought in a thumbs-up. Before long, reality began to shake and shift, the snow-caught Lich swallowed whole by twisted space, sent back from whence they came..

[SimplySeo 5281]

Jormunharr Ingmornesson briefly contemplated if he should've given Gashadokuro a warning.