Post by Imryrr Armunn on Oct 5, 2007 13:19:21 GMT -5
((Reposted from arpc. Author/Artist: Isk ))
If there is one truth to life it is that to the victor go the spoils. And so it was that the Chest of Evil lay in the balance, ready to be seized by means of battle. Molly had no doubt spirited the dark artefact to a safe place and with rumours of new fortifications being built within Castle Blackguard the half possessed Magnate made an educated guess that the second to last piece of his suit was within.
“I only hope our allies win us the day” Isk stated as he sucked in the thick Utopia smoke from his antiquated pipe. He had been at the drugs for most of the day dispelling nervous jitters. His voice changed to a deeper pitch “Our victory is assured. This Sunday will be a day to remember”
As bluish smoke passed from the porcelain lips and nose of Isk’s emotionless mask the Magnate could only nod. “If they keep it at their castle the siege will be difficult…” he said as he slouched down his throne. He suddenly felt like he was collapsing into himself as the drugs massaged his brain. Falling from his chair he released the pipe and let it spill its sweet contents to the sandstone floor. He rolled over to look at the swirling images on the ceiling as he felt a phantom hand lightly press on his chest like a concerned parent.
Suddenly he saw glimpses of the battle ahead, the four banners of his army storming through the gates of an impressive structure. The Matriarch of Umbra laughing as her generals lead the army through the defenders like a hot iron through pig flesh. He saw Cear of the Zog Cabal burning the enemy with liquid fire, the great daemon Tarothin crushing skulls with his bare hands… all three allied to the Magnate, allied to the Hand of Evil artifact. Heads of a massive hydra destined to crush the light.
Still grasping at the strands of the future, Isk saw Smogg, the lord of necromancy, handing the Gauntlets of Evil to him. He saw himself dressed in the entire suit, a tornado swirling around him with crimson blood. Plagues and sickness spreading through the world, the armies of darkness pressing though the lands destroying alliances and burning all in their path. The four headed hydra consuming everything. One thousand years of darkness.
_________________
If there is one truth to life it is that to the victor go the spoils. And so it was that the Chest of Evil lay in the balance, ready to be seized by means of battle. Molly had no doubt spirited the dark artefact to a safe place and with rumours of new fortifications being built within Castle Blackguard the half possessed Magnate made an educated guess that the second to last piece of his suit was within.
“I only hope our allies win us the day” Isk stated as he sucked in the thick Utopia smoke from his antiquated pipe. He had been at the drugs for most of the day dispelling nervous jitters. His voice changed to a deeper pitch “Our victory is assured. This Sunday will be a day to remember”
As bluish smoke passed from the porcelain lips and nose of Isk’s emotionless mask the Magnate could only nod. “If they keep it at their castle the siege will be difficult…” he said as he slouched down his throne. He suddenly felt like he was collapsing into himself as the drugs massaged his brain. Falling from his chair he released the pipe and let it spill its sweet contents to the sandstone floor. He rolled over to look at the swirling images on the ceiling as he felt a phantom hand lightly press on his chest like a concerned parent.
Suddenly he saw glimpses of the battle ahead, the four banners of his army storming through the gates of an impressive structure. The Matriarch of Umbra laughing as her generals lead the army through the defenders like a hot iron through pig flesh. He saw Cear of the Zog Cabal burning the enemy with liquid fire, the great daemon Tarothin crushing skulls with his bare hands… all three allied to the Magnate, allied to the Hand of Evil artifact. Heads of a massive hydra destined to crush the light.
Still grasping at the strands of the future, Isk saw Smogg, the lord of necromancy, handing the Gauntlets of Evil to him. He saw himself dressed in the entire suit, a tornado swirling around him with crimson blood. Plagues and sickness spreading through the world, the armies of darkness pressing though the lands destroying alliances and burning all in their path. The four headed hydra consuming everything. One thousand years of darkness.
_________________
