A small kingdom decays from within as a new danger walks the land. Those who try to face this new evil find themselves fleeing and the battle becomes a fight for survival. Dark hunter, young soldier, innocent daughter, quick tongued gambler and sharp lady of nobility; these are just a few who try to stay alive as their world falls around them.
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The pit is deep, cut into the ground by the cultists who follow the one known as Khazar. Those who could not find tools to cut into the ground used bare hands to scrape at a soil so hard they began to bleed. Cries and howls rang out from crazed mouths but now the night is silent again, a dark behemoth figure encased in ancient plate-mail armour surveying the scene.
And the scene is a gory sight. The pit is a mass of tangled bodies, naked thin forms piled one on top of the other so that it is a veritable orgy of the dead. The faces are silent, at rest, yet they show the horror that they went through before their end. These were innocent people of a peaceful village, now in flames that light up the night sky. All around, dark robed cultists kneel with heads bowed to the one they serve.READ MORE
“Lord, we have done as you asked.” This is a scrawny man, sparse tufts of hair displayed on a wrinkled scalp, “They are dead.”
“Yes.” Khazar growls at the redundant statement. Lifting his helm he unmasks his face, a broad ogrish jaw and bony features matched by dark, sunken eyes. Lifting his head, he looks at the glowing ashes that drift through the air, the musty smell of burning another sign of his power.
Taking a brief look up at his master’s face, the cultist quickly drops his gaze once more, like a child trying to avoid punishment, “Will they come?”
There is no answer, the crackling in the background preventing silence from consuming them. Finally, Khazar turns from the mass grave, once again encompassing himself in the solid helmet that seems to complete him.