Morcatia Shattered Realms-Sands of War

Seven

Road to Darabia

Ernash led his forces up the long road towards Darabia. He could see Radna approaching in the dim twilight holding the two specimens. He held up a fist to call his army to a halt as Radna called out to him.

"I trust everything is in order?"
"Arioch is preparing transport as we speak my lord," Ernash growled bowing his head. "I'll ensure you aren't pursued."

"I will join the battle after I hand over the specimens. Arioch is capable of transporting these animals alone. I would have twenty of your warriors accompany him. I am told everything is ready for the experiment. When I arrive I will ensure your retreat."

Ernash replied with his head still bowed, "It would be an honor to fight beside you, my lord. I've heard talk of your viciousness in battle, but to witness it myself, I consider it a privilege."

Ernash knew well how Radna relished being recognized for his battle prowess. He also knew how short his temper could be. He once killed an entire battalion because their captain failed to refer to him as Lord Radna. Better to swell Radna's head with unnecessary flattery than to lose his own for not. And there was no mistaking how powerful he was, conceited or not.

"I'll take my leave," Radna grunted as he skittered away on his spider legs.
Ernash looked back at his battalion and raised his fist.

"Move out!" he bellowed. He continued his march to Darabia. The golden dunes were now a dark dull red in the setting sunlight. The eerie silence of the desert is broken only by the sound of boots, and the guttural moans of his marching abominations.

As Ernash marched towards the city, the world around him seemed to fade away. Slowly, as if drawn back by an invisible hand, he slipped into the depths of his memory, from before. Before the wraiths invaded his homeland in Necroloft.

He remembered Dreadmoor. The small insignificant city he grew up in. Its building's jagged roofs and crooked spires cast an unnerving shadow on the cobblestone streets below. He remembered being human. He remembered his long black hair and pale skin, now dark grey and rotting in places.

The night the city fell the moon was shrouded in an eerie fog. He was on his way to the Creeping Rest Lodge to kill some noble member of the town council. He didn't care too much for details, he just relished the chance to kill and earn some coin. In the simplest terms, he was a murderer. He enjoyed killing. He liked hearing the death rattle as his victims drew their final breath. It was a cruel twist of fate that the murder cult of Necroloft found him. There he gained the opportunity to kill and be paid and gained some political protection from secret members of the council. His more socially involved victims were always ruled an accident.
As the heavy oak door of the lodge creaked open, a hushed silence fell upon the room. Ernash's cloak billowed as he stepped inside. His bloodshot eyes scanned the faces of the patrons. The room was dimly lit by candles, casting dancing shadows on the walls. He crept up to the innkeeper, a grizzly-looking middle-aged man who was pouring a mug of beer for a drunken woman who sat at the bar before him.

"I need a room for the night," he half whispered. "Any will do I'm just passing through.

The innkeeper turned and grabbed a key from a lockbox behind him. He placed it on the counter in front of Ernash

"That be three shillings there, son. Would ye like a brew?" he bellowed.
Ernash smelled alcohol on his breath. A closer study of the man revealed a long dagger at his side.

"Just the room," he replied dropping the silver pieces on the counter. He didn't bother saying anything else before grabbing the key and rushing upstairs to his room. He knew which room his target was supposed to be in.

He waited until the moon was at its highest before he crept out into the hallway. As soon as his door closed behind him the invasion alarms sounded. The inn suddenly became live with activity. Other guests of the lodge began pouring into the hallways with panicked cries. He saw this as an opportunity. Even in all the chaos, he found his target as soon as he burst into the hall. Ernash grabbed him and forced him back into his room, with his hand over his mouth and dagger at his throat. The man looked at him with wide eyes of terror. Ernash didn't say a single word to him before burying his dagger into the man's neck. He still had his hand over the man's mouth and stared directly into his eyes as the life left him.

Ernash stood and went to clean his dagger when the door burst open and two wraiths forced their way in. All he could remember after that was a bright green light filling his eyes and the feeling of fear leaving his body. Fear. An emotion he never felt again since that night. Now he was a hybrid. A human that had a predisposed affinity for violence before his corruption. Not like one of the mindless thralls he led into battle.

Ernash's distant gaze slowly receded as he approached the city of Darabia. A sharp maleficent grin parted his lips as he let out a great roar. The primal forces had come to meet him. The battle had begun.