#3 The Lost One

 

Karnath shivered uncontrollably in the dark.

 The Avengers had told of the terrifying berserks- the oppoenents eternal, the Northmen from the mountains of Gunt. As his band had surrounded the caverns where the last of the Guntmen had been encamped, the sun was still a memory on the horizon, and spirits had run high. 

There were three score warriors sworn to  the Avengers, and a dozen Avengers stood among them, bearing the silver breastplates of the Fallen Legion- a proud and emboldening symbol.  Karnath stood taller as the knights passed the ranks.

Of the filthy Guntmen there was no sign- they slept on, deep in the burrow,  in ignorance of the cleansing wrath that was soon to be upon them. The caverns were deep, indeed legends abounded of treasures and whimsy in their depths. But those were tales of children. The Guntmen- posted watches had been silenced long ago, and the hammer was ready to be dropped.

When the Avengers silently but swiftly plunged into the dark caverns, blades and torches raised as high as the morning sun, Karnath was ready to smash these reavers, these lawless northmen.

In the torches somber and hellish glow, the Guntmen were revealed to be butchered. Not just butchered… turned into bloody meat… and by their own hands…

As confusion and the first trickles of fear swept the Avengers, the cavern entrance rumbled, and the sunlight was diminished, blocked, by a form, a shape.

Then there was blood, terror, and fear. For the golden age of the southlands has come to pass, ushered to part with a shriek of inhuman mandibles, an eldrich, sallow glow, and all-too human hands, pale as ghosts, born of a torturous, cthonain world of night.

The Lost Ones have returned to the lands of men.

Category: Fantasy, Horror, Uncategorized