Fury And Darkness: Legends of the Realm

Thunder Booms and Lightning Strikes

"This storm... it is not good..." an old village woman said, voice shaking with cold fear and of old age as she stared at the ranging storm from her window. A woman, who was cooking dinner, whirled around in surprise, spatula clattering on the linoleum floor as she stared wide eyed at her old mother, standing and speaking as if she was not bedridden for eight years; not speaking, not moving.

"M-mother..." the woman called out softly, as if she is afraid that her mother will break into a million pieces and the illusion of her standing and speaking will be gone if she spoke in a loud voice. Her hands shaking from the pressure of holding back the urge to run to her mother and crush her in a tight embrace.

The old woman turn slowly to look at her daughter. The lady carefully laid her hands on the old woman's shoulder and stirred her slowly towards the narrow bed in the middle of their small, one-room home. "Mam... -the woman swallowed- "I am so happy to see you up but please do not stand near the window, you might catch your death in the cold of this horrific storm."

The old woman grabbed her daughter's arm in a grip that surprise the much younger woman. "My dear, you need to be ready and look out... All of us in this village should ready and look out, the storm!" the old woman said in a quacking, screeching voice.

"Mam? It's just a storm, very strong, but that's just it." the woman said, trying to comfort her old mother.

The old woman, grabbed the arms of her daughter. She gasped as her face, a mere inch away from her mother's. The old woman's glassy, unseeing, cataract riddled eyes is now fiercely focused on her. the tingling sensation that coursed through her body was not because of happiness to see her mother up on her feet, nor the fury of the storm, but from the voice coming from her old mother's mouth; the voice is of a young girl.

"Do you not see, girl! The storm, it is not of Mother Nature's creation, the Dark Lord is coming.... He is coming to wreak havoc on the mortals who dared challenge and take his land! And we are now in the middle of it... we are going to be the blood sacrifice to the gods and we cannot run for we are trapped!" at this, the old woman slumped back in her bed like a deadweight, her eyes wide open and unblinking as it stared up the rotting ceiling.

~***~

Thousands of miles north from the village of Braem, a huge military battalion is trying to set up camp against the raging storm. Soldiers scurry about trying to set up tents and equipments, but with the strong winds and heavy downpour of rain prevented them from accomplishing anything; soldiers tried to run after important papers flying around, while some tried to complete the orders that were screamed at them by their superiors, some losing their foot hold as strong winds tried to blow them away.

In the midst of all this chaos stands a commanding figure. Big hands resting on lean hips, broad muscled chest out that tapered down to a flat stomach, arms bulging from the rolled-up sleeves of his military uniform, long, powerful legs apart and feet firmly planted on the ground, his golden hair whipping back from his handsome face as he stared up to the sky, as if challenging the storm to topple him down as the strong wind and rain battered down his body.

A soldier ran towards the figure, it was no easy feat as the strong wind threatened to blow him away. Eventually he arrived beside the man. "Commander! Sir! The storm is getting stronger! We have already set your tent up for you!" the soldier shouted so as to be heard from the deafening howl of the wind.

The man whom the soldier called commander slowly turned his face towards the soldier. The soldier almost staggered back in fear as the commander fixed his cold, cobalt blue eyes on him. The commander smiled, a sinister smile, and said; "Tell them to assemble, we will have a meeting, to plan the siege of the Realm."