The waiting...the waiting is killing me. Armok...he is haunting me, slipping through the halls of Necrothreat like the slimy snake he is. Now that I see the end of my days, those halls seem to glimmer with the lights of promise and life. I shake my head, perplexed. What has come over me? Necrothreat has never been a happy place. In fact, looking around from where I am crouched behind some crates in the storage room, I again see the soot stained and industry-mangled walls of my home. Yet, I sill see that...promise, what it could have been. I must be mad.
I was wrong. When I named ElephantParade my successor, I was wrong. I thought he would be a figure of strength, forcing the influence of Armok from our grime-filled halls. And yet he praises the name of Armok! I wish it could have been different, that I could have been the strong one who saved our land. But I was weak. I knew that once I took that step, I would be crushed by the wrath of Armok. And I valued my life, given though it was with the sadistic amusement of Armok. I valued that I could walk and see, breathe and live. No matter what I said, what I thought, I wanted to live. And that stopped me from doing what I should.
I freeze. I dare not breathe, barely even thinking for fear I will be heard. He has found me again. I knew he would, as he has in each room I have sought refuge in. Eyes straining against the dark, I look for the figure that I could somehow sense was slinking in the shadows which pooled murkily at the far end of the room. That sense has saved my skin more than once. The figure makes no noise, and only with supreme effort can be seen. Craning forward for a better look I bang my head against the low-slung ceiling. Shock rippled through me, and I became as still as the stone around me. The noise of head hitting roof broke the silence. After the hollow thunk, the silence surged softly back.
I waited, and he waited. Then, like a cobra striking with quick and lethal movements, the boxes I cower behind are ripped away. Framed by the light which pooled in behind him, I finally got my first proper look at my murderer. Tall (for a Forumite) and lithe, he had a strong face and pointed chin. Emerald eyes gazed imperiously down at me. He smiled, baring his teeth. The light glinted off the pair of fangs which jutted down from his upper teeth. A deep, male voice came from that mouth. "Ready or not, here I come" Then, a blur, he leaped at me and sank his fangs into my neck. My last thought before my lifeblood was drained out of me was that I had been foolish to believe Armok would forget about me. He is the god of Blood, and he exacts a price. Then the darkness flooded in, and I knew no more.
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Topic: Necrothreat II - A Fort Cursed by the Gods! (Read 447550 times)