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Tuesday, December 6, 2011

Story Time: Storm Clouds Gather....

Thought I'd throw in a random short story as a bit of colour text to set the scene for the next section of the campaign.  Hope you all enjoy.

Romulus surveyed his people’s land as he stood immobile at the pinnacle of the wooden tower.  The rapidly cooling wind carried with it the tang of ice, a sure sign as any that winter would be upon them soon.  Perhaps, if they were lucky, the gods would see fit to create a storm so fierce that it would scour each and every one of these invaders from these lands.  Reports from scouts had been disturbing thus far.  The Firebringer’s camp had been decimated, leaving their warriors desolate and homeless. Ogres and Undead engaging in battle in the East while the thrice-damned Empire fought against the sluggish Lizardmen in the North-West.  Romulus’ Wolf-spirit chaffed at the leash that kept them close to Malkareth – the Den of the One-Eyed Wolf but its anger was tempered by the need to keep his pack safe and until the defensive walls were complete.  Until the walls were completed though, his people would have to be content with waiting and watching; if only for the moment. 

Turning his attention to the East, he watched with pride as he saw the construction site for the defensive walls that slowly encircled his city. Hearty warriors stripped to the waist worked together to drag great boughs of the mighty pines that grew in the forest not far from here to the base of each wall where they were cleaned, treated and the end worked to a savage point before being inserted into the stone base of the wall and lashed to it’s companion standing next to it.  Once complete, this would be a mighty wall, capable of defending against any who were foolish enough to try.  A sporadic movement in the sky caught his attention, his eyes fixing upon it immediately.  It was a Raven, a messenger from his scouts in the Eastern region.  Landing on the timber machicolation, the raven’s single green eye fixed upon Romulus as it hopped closer to the Warlord.  Reaching out, he touched his finger to the raven’s skull, allowing a small trickle of power to be released into the bird, allowing him to delve into its memories in search of the information he needed.  Words and pictures filled his mind as he explored the ravens’ subconscious fixing upon the knowledge he needed.  In his mind’s eye he watched the legion of shambling corpses marching east towards his people, their expansive host marched under a great pall of clouds whose dark faces shielded them from the sun’s burning gaze.  Pulling away, he released the link he shared with the raven and descended into the tower.  War comes to the Wulfkin Tribe, and Romulus intended to impale the head of this impertinent Vampire on a stake as a message to all others – This land belongs to the Wulfkin Tribe and woe betide those who try and take it from us.    

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