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Posts : 27
Join date : 2007-12-16
Age : 31

PostSubject: K   Mon 25 Feb 2008, 02:46

So, some of you might remember this, others might not. Khthon was studying the controversial actions of the Forsaken, as he recieved a mysterious letter from an "informant" about activities of the Scourge in the desert of Tanaris. So, umm... just read this if you happen to be bored to death:

It was a bright, cool night, as they reached the flats. Sand, gritting
under the raptors claws. It was so silent, he was afraid of his own voice. But
he didn’t talk, he needn’t. It was the silence that was speaking. He just
listened to it. This was no ordinary silence, it was desert silence. A silent
desert is not like a silent room – in a silent desert, you can hear the air
singing. It tells endless tales of loneliness, of freedom.

Khthon wouldn’t have come here, not to the desert of Tanaris, not again.
This was not his home, nowhere was. Yet these plains of sand were more like
home than any other place he had been to.

The troll knew that coming here was anything but a good idea, but
knowing the things he did, he HAD to come. Or else it would sooner or later
come to him.

The lizard saw a desert for the first time. The trolls took their
raptors with them wherever they travelled. Those are tough creatures,
intelligent and quick. Loyal only to those worthy of their trust.

And so Khthons raptor walked slowly, trying not to wake up the sleeping
desert. He felt the sand seeping between his claws.

It was time to rest, the bright moon stood high above the even horizon.

Khthon knew just the right place for a night camp – just beneath a steep
dune slope. The Raptor stopped, as if knowing this was the spot, and Khthon
jumped down, feeling the rough, cold sand. A familiar feeling, but with twofold
emotions. He unrolled a kodo-leather and brought in on the top of the dune.
After having dug a small hole, he carefully placed the leather inside, fitting
it on the sand. From the top of the dune, he could see the rolling sand hills,
the mountains around the desert and the ocean at the very horizon. Khthon felt
the Emptiness in his heart. It was a bitter-sweet feeling of memories and the
impending Confrontation. It was time to sleep.
As Khthon opened his eyes it was already midday, and the first thing he
saw was the tail of his turquoise raptor – the head hidden in a recently killed
basilisk corpse.

Khthon stilled his thirst with the water in the leather on top of the
dune. The Morning mist gathers in small drops on the sides of the leather and
eventually gathers on the bottom of it.

The Troll unpacked a wrapped pot of jungle stew. When cooked right and
enough salted, it could be preserved for up to two weeks.

While eating, Khthon one again red through the mysterious letter he had
received. The last words, burnt in Shadowcloth, were:
“Once you are in the desert, don’t try to find me. I will find you when
I deem it fit”
And so he wandered around the eternal sands, thinking of what could
await him.

The blood-red evening sun touched the tip of a distant dune. As he
blinked, he believed to see a mysterious silhouette in front of the setting sun.
But when he reached the place, he could find even a footprint. Only the earth
felt weird, disturbed.

And again, he felt something moving in the corner of his eye, and saw
nothing, as he turned – only the flow of energy, that disturbed the natural
elements. It was growing ever stronger – The Shaman felt the earth turning
cold. Suddenly the warm breeze coming from the ocean turned into a cold lull,
the shamanistic talismans hanging from his belt started to shake, indicating an
immense misbalance in the natural elements.

A cold, violet fog started to gather first in the lower areas, between
dunes, and then grew thicker and larger.
Glowing eyes appeared all around Khthon in the fog.

This was it.

At the very last moment Khthon managed to call a shield of lightning and
a Searing Totem around him – crushing the first Voidwalkers to dust, as they hurled
at him.

The shaman was nearly blind – the fog had not just disrupted the
visibility, but most importantly, it had cut him from the natural elements of
air, and water – with most of his spells useless, Khthon felt only the Earth beneath
his feet.
He was crushing waves of sand at the incoming daemons, pulverizing them
one after another.
Just as he was about to collapse of exhaustion, the attacks seized, the daemons
abruptly stopped in confusion and started to back off.

Rays of green light penetrated the thick fog from above. Khthon looked
up, and saw three green dots in the sky – growing lager, as they came closer.

What first seemed to be green dots, now turned out to be meteorites from
the night sky – they crushed just on the other side of a nearby dune, sending shockwaves beneath the horizon.

The troll knew what it meant.

As the three rock giants, made of the splintered meteorites and held
together by pure dark energy, arose from their craters, the shaman gathered his
last powers and called to the last thing he had, the Earth itself.

With the charging Infernals coming closer, Khthon put all his remaining
strength together and crushed his staff in the ground, sending a wall of sand
in all directions. It grew larger as an avalanche and started to rise in the
upwards, darkening the sky. It pulled itself together above Khthon and the three Infernals, who stopped and stared at the mountain on sand in the sky.

The shaman had neither the strength nor the will to run, as the sand
began to hurl downwards.

Shortly afterwards, the silence of the desert was disturbed only by the
last rhythmic pulses of a half-buried Searing Totem.

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