The Warlock's Chair.
A place of magic and adventure.
Long ago when the world was young the Faerie races ruled far and wide across the lands of the Earth.
Then with the coming of Man, they disappeared into myth and legend. But they had survived. Hidd...
DEEP WITHIN THE EVERMURK, CERADIN RAVENGAARD fought to calm the rage that threatened to explode within his chest. He slumped in the chair, eyes staring sightlessly ahead. His mind was elsewhere, projected through time and space to the land of his birth. He searched for one who could do his bidding, one powerful enough to vanquish his enemies.
The sending could easily control the birds and other insignificant creatures that were his eyes and ears in this world. But this would be different, more power and control would be required.
But he was more than equal to the task, of that he was sure.
His mind wandered through the trees and into the dark places where people rarely strayed. Those that had the misfortune to step into such places inevitably left with a feeling of deep wretchedness and foreboding. He searched for that which lay hidden—deep in slumber—for countless years. Ravengaard knew of its existence, for long ago, he had put it there.
Once there had been many of them, lying silent, awaiting his command. He had fashioned them from the deepest, darkest fragments of the forest, giving them life and dispatching them against his enemies.
Huge almost unstoppable behemoths.
But the Alliance ultimately discovered a way to eradicate them. Now only a few remained buried deep beneath the woodland floor.
Awaiting his command.
Ravengaard sensed what he was seeking. His mind pressed through a scrub of rhododendron bushes and sank into the rich earth below.
Here in the darkness, he made contact with the creature. It possessed little brain or nervous system, for it was just a collection of earth, rocks and other detritus given sentience.
He went inside, whispering the words that would bring his monstrous creation to life.
It stirred and lurched upright.
The ground undulated when it moved, trees cracked and shook as the creature rose from its resting place. Shrubbery and earth slid from its back, others stayed in place, roots so deeply embedded that they had become part of the forest thing. Broken tree stumps thrust armour like from the body, held fast by branches, roots, and brambles which twined and knotted together. Thorny tendrils, as thick as a man's arm, lashed outwards and dragged the twisted mass of vegetation from the earth.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Ravengaard continued to whisper to his creation. Directing—as best he could—what it was he needed the near-mindless brute to do. Once awakened, he hoped it would follow its instinct and lay waste to everything in its path. He just needed to point it in the right direction.
He grew exhausted.
Hoping he had done enough to instruct the creature, he withdrew back to the Evermurk.
