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Description

A storm charges towards Rose-Shield upon the horizon, carrying with it a heavy, nigh tangible air of cold to encrust life and item in a prison of frost. A black storm of rolling thunder echoes across the realm in a carcophony of wails and screams. Flashes of light illuminated the dark sky high above and crackled along the heavens like jagged and gnarled vines seeking and grasping in an ever expanding reach. The dead light from above, if brief, at first, in but mere flickers akin to tricks of the mind-became more vivid, and striking. The inaudible keening and shrieks of the haunting thunder grew ever more prominent to the ear.
The winds blew, and harbored within its gale a thick chill, yet bore a viscous and heated scent of fetid honey gone rife and sour. The storm carried rain not, despite its temperamental hue and heavy, uncomfortable pressure. Rather, black and thick sludge fell from the skies and planted upon the chilled ground in heavy plops, a foul odor wafting from them and glimmering softly like fresh oils squeezed from the earth.
The clouds spanned across the horizon, coming ever near.
Ever closer.
Ever faster.
Far above the crimson hued forests and mountain peaks of Rose-Shield.
Far above the willows and great, ancient oaks that have yet to ever be tread upon by man.
Far above the crystalline rivers that pumped like blood through the great red valleys.
Far above the thick roots and vines that spanned across the land for miles.
Far above the towering walls of Rose-Shield.
Far above the great bastion that has yet to be breached by army or raging storm.
When the siege began, it was not by fire and rage-
-Nor blade nor shield-
-Nor pop of gunfire nor rev of war machine-
-But of a cloudburst.
Like the weight of the world was upon it, the black clouds descended from the heavens in a horrendous downpour.
Lightning struck and raged in a torrent of swift, violent flashes as the great red oaks climbing to the skies were caught aflame and ruptured in wooden shrapnel.
The earth split when struck, once lush and fertile soil turned charred and black.
Echoing thunder rolled across the skies like a churning deluge from the sea, a single, circular wave briefly parting the dark sky.
The shock wave ripped great roots from soil, and tore dwellings from foundations.
Through the spreading fires, through the blinding God strikes, through the deafening cracks, though the raging storm-
A Demon of the Old World emerged to devour.
A Spawn of Gehenna, to unleash misery and suffering upon the land.
A Hunter of Aetherius.
A Stalker of the Moon.
A monster of no mercy, nor recourse.
A creature of violent means, that brought violent ends.
Life is not freedom; It is a prison.
Death is not the end; It is a doorway.
The beginning of the end descended from the heavens in a cloudburst.
From the fetid and ill clouds swooped down a harbinger of ruin.
A black ave of prey emerged with baneful, twisted talons and unkempt, haggard feathers clotted and clumped in oily slough.
Its wings spanned wide, jagged teeth fitting a crooked beak upon an unfeathered head, pale and cracked flesh pulled taut over its skull as if a butcher's horrid experiment.
An experiment of a beast whose skin did not match its skull, flesh stretched and pulled as if a mask unfitting of the head.
A beast spawned from a nightmare made manifest, a crown of dried and mangled bone--or perhaps limbs--adorned its naked head.
Lightning crackled around its form, wings commanding the cries of thunder and raging winds as black clouds trailed in its wake.
A train of dazzling white and blue light crackled and raged in a thick, elongated fan of ethereal feathers.
A farrier of the dead, lost souls riding along the river of a predator's tail.
Souls made slaves by the lowest of servants with the power of an entity unknown.
Servants that acted without greater thought.
Servants that did not ask why when ordered.
Servants and slaves that just did as told.
They just needed to be pointed where to go.

Description

A storm charges towards Rose-Shield upon the horizon, carrying with it a heavy, nigh tangible air of cold to encrust life and item in a prison of frost. A black storm of rolling thunder echoes across the realm in a carcophony of wails and screams. Flashes of light illuminated the dark sky high above and crackled along the heavens like jagged and gnarled vines seeking and grasping in an ever expanding reach. The dead light from above, if brief, at first, in but mere flickers akin to tricks of the mind-became more vivid, and striking. The inaudible keening and shrieks of the haunting thunder grew ever more prominent to the ear.
The winds blew, and harbored within its gale a thick chill, yet bore a viscous and heated scent of fetid honey gone rife and sour. The storm carried rain not, despite its temperamental hue and heavy, uncomfortable pressure. Rather, black and thick sludge fell from the skies and planted upon the chilled ground in heavy plops, a foul odor wafting from them and glimmering softly like fresh oils squeezed from the earth.
The clouds spanned across the horizon, coming ever near.
Ever closer.
Ever faster.
Far above the crimson hued forests and mountain peaks of Rose-Shield.
Far above the willows and great, ancient oaks that have yet to ever be tread upon by man.
Far above the crystalline rivers that pumped like blood through the great red valleys.
Far above the thick roots and vines that spanned across the land for miles.
Far above the towering walls of Rose-Shield.
Far above the great bastion that has yet to be breached by army or raging storm.
When the siege began, it was not by fire and rage-
-Nor blade nor shield-
-Nor pop of gunfire nor rev of war machine-
-But of a cloudburst.
Like the weight of the world was upon it, the black clouds descended from the heavens in a horrendous downpour.
Lightning struck and raged in a torrent of swift, violent flashes as the great red oaks climbing to the skies were caught aflame and ruptured in wooden shrapnel.
The earth split when struck, once lush and fertile soil turned charred and black.
Echoing thunder rolled across the skies like a churning deluge from the sea, a single, circular wave briefly parting the dark sky.
The shock wave ripped great roots from soil, and tore dwellings from foundations.
Through the spreading fires, through the blinding God strikes, through the deafening cracks, though the raging storm-
A Demon of the Old World emerged to devour.
A Spawn of Gehenna, to unleash misery and suffering upon the land.
A Hunter of Aetherius.
A Stalker of the Moon.
A monster of no mercy, nor recourse.
A creature of violent means, that brought violent ends.
Life is not freedom; It is a prison.
Death is not the end; It is a doorway.
The beginning of the end descended from the heavens in a cloudburst.
From the fetid and ill clouds swooped down a harbinger of ruin.
A black ave of prey emerged with baneful, twisted talons and unkempt, haggard feathers clotted and clumped in oily slough.
Its wings spanned wide, jagged teeth fitting a crooked beak upon an unfeathered head, pale and cracked flesh pulled taut over its skull as if a butcher's horrid experiment.
An experiment of a beast whose skin did not match its skull, flesh stretched and pulled as if a mask unfitting of the head.
A beast spawned from a nightmare made manifest, a crown of dried and mangled bone--or perhaps limbs--adorned its naked head.
Lightning crackled around its form, wings commanding the cries of thunder and raging winds as black clouds trailed in its wake.
A train of dazzling white and blue light crackled and raged in a thick, elongated fan of ethereal feathers.
A farrier of the dead, lost souls riding along the river of a predator's tail.
Souls made slaves by the lowest of servants with the power of an entity unknown.
Servants that acted without greater thought.
Servants that did not ask why when ordered.
Servants and slaves that just did as told.
They just needed to be pointed where to go.