04-13-2012, 11:28 PM
It is just the natural order of things...
Just setting things right...
"One hundred and twenty-seven good men and women! Just gone! You have to do something!"
"We can't reach'm boy! The doors are shut!"
"Then open them! Get help!"
"Both of you! Get down!"
Ash flies down on their heads, a young human man, an old dwarven prospector and a dwarven soldier. A handful of men and women scramble about, fire is all around them. The scene is spinning, the volcanic valley is alive - screaming in agony. The young man turns pointing to a large titansteel gate, its red center gem pulsing.
"Open it!"
"They are on there own!"
The soldier takes the prospector under his shield, fire falls from above, tents are aflame. The prospector yells again.
"We need to get out of here!"
"I am not leaving my sister in there!"
"I dun care boy! We all will die if we stay!"
The ash was choking out all light, the expedition was a disaster. The human turned again to those doors, eyes locked on them. The earth began to crack before him. He scrambled to the dwarves, molten flame spewing forth. One man's flesh was peeling off his body as the fire gathered around him.
"We must come back for them!"
"No time for that talk boy! She is strong, and she has plenty of help in there with her!"
They sprint into the rear door of a dwarven personnel carrier, the human's blue eyes turning back. And only sees the eerie red glow of the door through the ash.
It is all foretold...
The ancient hall was flushed with lights, arcane, fire, and otherwise. The large group was standing amongst falling rocks. The shaking stopped, suddenly then. A young blonde woman pulls herself from the floor, sky blue eyes set down the dark hall.
"We are on our own now..."
I offer over these poor lost souls...
So you may prosper, as was foretold...
Outside the mountain, in the ash, stands a blackened figure - chains writhe over him, gnashing mouths coat his mad form; and endless eyes surge with joy. And from his faceless mask...
Your will... Be done...