A goblin gang leader named Crol is talking to a mysterious goblin shaman named Qub about carrrying out an assassination...
“So, what be ye price, exactly?” Crol asked. Me assume this no free.”
“Price be paid,” Qub replied.
Crol raised an eyebrow. “What price that be?”
“Ye tip the scales exactly where need be.”
Crol died.
No whimper.
No scream.
His eyes just closed, and his soul was no more.
Qub stood up and walked out of the foreman’s house. Before a Krung could say anything, he fell dead, and then, one after another, they each fell dead. The slaves in the mine and their homes fell where they stood.
Qub smiled as he witnessed the dead.
He wrapped the cloak tightly around himself as he walked into the shadows.
The Krug had unknowingly set in motions events beyond their comprehension.
Soon, the world would know the power of Armagda the Destroyer, and crumble.
The age of chaos had begun.
No comments:
Post a Comment