The fresh air fill my lungs, the morning sun kisses my cheeks as the morning dew nurses the forest into bloom. Birds are fluttering to life and I can hear the noise of hooves on the forest floor. I rise up from my camping spot and grab my staff and my morning scroll. One big breath of air and that will be the last of that foul stench in my lungs. How I hate the smell of fresh air.
The wretched animal calls on the mornings, the moist ground irritates my skin as I walk. Every time a leaf brushes against my leg, I want to rip it off and stomp on it constantly.
I so loathe the pulse of nature.
I need to get a more familiar smell in this place. I want to make it feel closer to my own soul. I need the stench of rotting plants and swamp mud to bring back the joy in my day. I enjoy keeping my eyes open as I channel my morning chant. My toes tingle out of sheer pleasure as I feel the energy build from within. The rise of power is like caltrops being dragged through my guts. Like warm lava slowly moving up through my body, as if I am the very fury of a raging volcano! I breathe in deep and then crouch down low to release the lovely stench of my dark magic across the plants, the trees, even the animals who do not run fast enough, are overtaken by the decay.
I slowly draw my scythe and enjoy the sight of plans struggling to hold on to life. In delight I see the extent of my destruction, the one big oak tree is struggling to stay upright and the corpses of squirrel pile of out its wooden belly.
The lovely foul smell
As the smell of death and degeneration rises, so do I. I need to find a stronger source and complete my vengeance. I know that I was tasked with destruction of this forest, but I prefer working at my own time. working according to my own hate for this natural growth. This forest is struggling against my energy, fighting my magical loathing. It infuriates me!
I still hear the sharp chirps of birds, breeding and frolicking. I kill hundreds and those sky-rats keep on coming. “I curse you little winged beasts! I curse you bush buck! I curse you wild boar!”, he shouts with anger. Suspiciously he asks himself, “Why is there sounds of life all around me? Wolf howls, bear grunts and horses hooves…”. I know not of horses in this area. There is definitely more than one horse, running… towards my direction. I will cut the life out of these horses. Rip their bonds to this world, rip their essence from the flesh that drives them towards me.
The dark druid slowly walks to the path and kneels down, reach out his arms. His left hand stretches out the staff he carried. In his right hand he holds a selection of rotten objects, bones and foul ingredients. In a foul and meanders manner he calls dark and evil power into himself. His body starts to shiver and shake as he struggles to contain the build-up of power in his soul. More and more power pours into him. The only movement that he makes, is his eyes slowly moving up along the path.Waiting for the horses. Preparing them for his ultimate judgement.
I can barely wait
“I can barely see. The thunder raging in my body wants to erupt. Wants to escape and wreak wild havoc on all its path. I must contain it, wait for the perfect moment to let those animals die like the worthless heaps of flesh they are.
I can see their shadows forming against the morning sun. Hooves thundering towards me, but wait, there is voices as well now, these horses have riders.
Joy burst forth from my earthly body. More souls to sacrifice for my dark master. I patiently wait. Foul power beating in tandem with my rotten heart. “Come closer riders, I have a royal gift for you. A gift from my king”, he whisper in boundless joy.
I could not help myself from smiling as the first horse came into sight. Time slowed down as I noticed the sun gleaming off their metallic armour. The banners of their liege is proudly fixed upon their lances. I see six, no maybe even eight riders rushing to me. The druid pulls in his one arm and starts to acts meek and helpless.
“Come help me, I need your aid”, I shout. An evil giggle slips out. Luckily they do not notice and I turn my face down, waiting for the hooves to travel closer.
Their paces changes to a slow trot and I hear one shout in the common language, “What is wrong and how can we aid you old man?”, the one rider asks.
I suppressed every ounce of my anger and mumbled softly. “Excuse me, but I could barely hear you”, the one soldier said as I dismounted from the horse and moved towards the druid.
“In my mind I slowly counted the footsteps as the heap of flesh, moved towards me”, the foul druid thought to himself.
The soldier’s metal plated boot cracks a twig as it settles into the soil next to the evil caster, when suddenly the caster leaps up and thrusts his hidden hand into his guts. Foul magical power piercing the armour and ripping into his flesh. Spreading through his body, the searing pain flows into his bloodstream and fills his body with horrific anguish.
The horror filled the the leader of the squad. “Attack that foul being and bring me it’s head!”, the young leader commanded! “Form around it, charge it down, works as a unit and let’s send it back the pit it came from!”, he commanded with gusto.
The first four horsemen charge towards their foe, but as they came close the ground became weak and the horses and men sank in. For the evil druid sapped their ally’s life essence from his pain-stricken body and an devilish aura sprung forth, spreading hastily through the earth and softening the soil into quicksand. Confused and scared the troops try to retreat, but now find themselves captured in this horrible quagmire.
Sinking fast and filled with fear, the men try to move out of the horrible trap they have been caught in.
I am not just going to let these men, slowly fade into the afterlife, they must suffer first. I hastily pull a crystal from my satchel, one that has been cursed with demonic power. I clench it in my fist and reach towards the quagmire, while dark and ancient words flow from my lips. As I conjure my corruption further, the words themselves grate my tongue. For to bring others pain, I have share in the ordeal. I laugh aloud and call to those not yet caught in the quicksand, “You all shall follow your brethren into the depths of this pit!”. The sand itself, starts to form tentacle-like arms. They lash out and reach towards the troops, trying to bring more of the warriors into its demonic bowls.
“Stay strong troops, focus your attacks to the caster!”, the leader commands.
“He is a smart one, I think to myself”, I drop to my knees as the spells’ unholy cost taxes my inner strength. Yes my magic has great power, but the cost is equally great. In the intense pain, I still find joy in seeing a soldier’s mouth filling with sand, as she looses the fight with my enchanted quicksand. My hand reaches to the vials at my side, I will find strength and renewed power in one of my powerful poultices. A grab the vial, rip the cork out and lift it to my cracked and bleeding lips, but as the liquid starts flowing an bolt shatters the vial and cuts my hand.
My hate-filled eyes find the gaze of a soldier, his face beaming with pride as he felt that he bested me. I reach towards his chest, spread my hand out and swiftly form a fist as I command the power from the quagmire to do my bidding. Four tentacles of sand reaches out towards the soldier, grab him and grabs his mortal shell, bones breaking as the encompass his entire being.
While chaotic scene is enveloping among the brave troops, the druid slowly paces along side the quagmire and starts to swell the intensity of this incantation. To permanently blight this section of the forest he needs to inflict pain and death. These warriors will do just fine and be a worthy sacrifice for the One, who knows all pain. For a moment I close my eyes, to focus on adding power to the corruption of the soil, to further boost the demonic quagmire.
While the druid is focus on his chanting, the young leader leads his horse to the edge of the quicksand. He quickly ties a rope to his steed and throws the other one to two soldiers and call on them to grab on and pull themselves out. At that moment his eyes find his second-in-command fighting a manifestation of sand that is seemingly the center of this sand-beast. “Show this monster who fights for the the Citadel of Hope!”, young Nanthal shouts to his troops.
Nanthal moves to a safe spot in the soil and uses his special shield’s fortify ability, a strong feature that uses compress steam to deploy struts and a widening of the shield, to aid the defender. He clips two steam canisters from his ammunition belt and locks them in place. The pressure shoots through the shield’s mechanism and the suddenly the height and width of the shield increase as extra armored plates ejects from the shield. He forcibly anchors the shield into the soil and quickly ties ropes to the newly formed anchor points on the shield. Tosses it to the other troops and shouts to them to pull themselves to safety. As the screams of the company and the horses fill the forest, Nanthal notices in horror as his second-in-command contorts in agony as the entity in the sand starts to crunch his legs from below. Knowing he is lost, he finds focus in his comrade’s sacrifice and locks his gaze on the one thing that has cause his people so much pain, the foul druid.
He pulls a javelin from his back and without so much as a warning let the piercing missile fly towards his target. A sickening thud, follow by and scream of anger and pain is heard, as the javelin finds the druids thigh. Starting with a quickening pace, the young prince launches himself in the direction of the druid, skirting the edges of the quagmire and dodging the sandy arms of the demon within.
The druid notices his foe approaching and calls the power from his chest and with cupped hands carry the energy from his center and throws deadly magic towards the leader of the company. He tries to move closer to the forest line, but the stinging pain from the javelin in his leg, prevents him from moving fast enough. “I must take this knight down now!”, the foul caster thinks to himself.
He closes his eyes and focus on the quagmire, “Come to my aid, help me in my time of need, Alitoh, demon of the sand”, he prays. He continues with his meditative prayer, but finds the pain in his leg disruptive and the sound of the young knight’s armour coming closer. The impending resonance of chain-mail slapping against his leg’s armour, over-rules the focus of the druid. One last push to reach the demon and gain control of the quagmire, “We can not let the master down!”. Slowly the demonic power starts to flow into my veins, “I will soon wield untold power, I will pay the price later…”. The druid stops and opens his eyes to find the leader much closer than he anticipated.
The young prince has his target almost within range, he darts to the left and another to the right slightly further, to confused the foul caster. No words for this monster, only my steel will do the talking today. Two more quick steps closer and then he meets the gaze of the caster. as his eyes is opening. While blackish red spirit oozes from his palms and eyes, Nanthal keeps his resolve. a strong lunge with his left shoulder into the druid, knocking him off balance. With the momentum he forces his long sword into his bowls, steel finding space behind the rib-cage and into his left lung. The druid uses his fortitude to gather strength to stop the prince and grabs his chest, “Now die, young pr….”, he is stopped mid spell, as the prince did not pause for his words, but rather slammed his dagger into the druid’s right temple.
Power fades quickly from the caster’s hands and the young prince let’s the corrupt carcass drop the ground. As the blade slid out of the his corpse, the prince whispered with vengeance, “Die you monster”.
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