An unnatural silence cloaked the landscape. The winds blew a stench of decay through the rotting boughs of the Black Forest which edged the wild foothills of the southern border. Birdsong had long left those gnarled branches, as had the scurry of padded feet. Dark mud oozed through the decaying roots that fed the lice and roaches, who now inhabited the recesses and crags, once housing a thriving community of woodland creatures. The flutter of leathery wings spiralled overhead from the deep forest caves which pitted the countryside's sombre interior. As day turned to dusk, the shadows of the rotting forest flew from branch to branch, chasing the flocks of bats that wheeled above. Shadows curved and distorted in the dying light, projecting imagined beasts which crawled and clawed around the deathly trunks of blackened wood.
Two pale, bare feet stalked the gnarled roots and followed a worn, stone-pocked path. The ground began to steepen, and the trees thinned. The path became more defined, and the light of the moon shone through the sparse branches. Falling rays of moonlight defined the creature who crept its way through the dark scenery. An iron crown lining its head resembled the jagged fangs of an ancient beast long-lost. Long raven hair fell about its shoulders, covering his features, although two red lights twinkled beneath its shadowed brow, and showed the demon that resided in this man's skin. His black cloak fell about him, immersing his figure in yet more shadow.
Finally, the path stopped at a set of broken gates. The gates themselves had rusted into nothingness long ago, but the stone gateway still held some of its former standing, boasting two giant pillars roughly cut from huge slabs of rock. Above them, the ruined remains of two wolves still stood, though erosion and war had re-carved them into demonic representations of their previous selves. What remained of this archway still hung from each pillar; the rest was scattered at the gateway's base, with the central keystone speared into the centre of the path as if in statement. The cloaked figure sidestepped the half-buried slab and continued on, up into the crumbled ruins of the once majestic castle.
He picked his way through the flagged courtyard; more rubble was scattered in its interior, broken and empty. Time and weather had eroded the castle into the landscape, and although many of its features still resembled the structure that once stood there, the wars and ever-changing borders had moulded the stone walls into boulders and the high keep into a jagged landmark.
The figure now climbed the cracked, overgrown stone steps that led into the ancient keep. He stalked his way across the once great hall, and entered the roofless throne room. All the interior of the castle had been sacked long ago in the ages of the old kingdoms, but the stone throne still stood in defiance of time and the elements. He walked onto a stone balcony that looked out over the cliff where this castle stood. An autumn night's breeze pushed back the raven hair to reveal a face of ivory white. His crimson eyes gleamed beneath his noble brow; his nose, straight and long, was bred to look down upon lesser beings, and his lips, stained red with the blood of others, peeled back ever so slightly to show the tips of his prominent canines.
On this side of the border, the forest had become tame and healthy. Great green oaks dominated the forest and towered over the maples and beside the ash. The hoot and chatter of nocturnal creatures could be heard from the forest's depths, and a small town was snuggled nicely into the bend of the forest's river. The outlying homesteads had cleared some of the forest in order to graze their livestock, and now the thatched stone and log houses puffed smoke from their stone chimneys, and torches lined the winding cobbled streets of the town.
Stolen story; please report.
It had grown since the crowned man had last laid his eyes upon it. He unclasped his cloak, revealing robes of black and crimson beneath. He allowed the cloak to fall, and slowly raised his right arm in the direction of the town before snapping up his wrist. He pointed his palm towards the town's graveyard and began chanting in a deep, unearthly voice.
The soil writhed and bubbled around the graves, and the putrid smell of rotting death poured from the earth. A fog swirled around the cemetery, and ominous shadows flitted through the darkness, extinguishing the town's torches. Rotting hands thrust out from their graves and pulled their decayed corpses after them, then blood curdling howls called out from the forest as mutated, wolven beasts launched out from the undergrowth and branches, tufts of brown fur protruding from strange angles. Their pointed ears swivelled slightly, listening to their prey, and their elongated faces accommodated long jaws which were overcrowded with large jagged teeth. Their noses crinkled around their jaws, pulling their lips back into terrifying snarls. These were the wargs, as vicious as the night was dark.
Then the screams began. The smashing of window panes and the crunching of splintered doors echoed throughout the night; howls and shouts bounced from wall to wall. The town guard, led by the mayor, tried to resist in earnest as they cut back the undead with fire and axes, but, as the wargs descended, they fell into screams as well.
Blood poured from every door and window, filling the streets with a river of red, pooling unnaturally at the central square of the town. The undead began to pile the townsfolk there, making a vast mound of corpses, and then, once their work was complete, the demon came.
From out of the shadows he stalked, allowing the blood to lap at his naked heels. As he passed down the main street, the sounds of growling and crunching could be heard from within the occasional house as packs of wargs feasted upon the leftover townsfolk. The crowned man reached the town's centre square and waited. Shadows pooled at the edges, and mist swirled around them to form three hooded figures that walked the blood-drenched cobbles with anxious steps, and gathered around their leader.
The crowned man stirred, not in acknowledgment of the other three, but instead kneeling, blood rippling under his knee. He dipped his middle and index finger into the crimson stream, and began to chant again. The ripples around his knee and fingers grew; the blood around him became darker in shade until it dimmed to black. This black blood spanned out and crept across the streets to climb the mound of corpses. The mist dispersed, and the shadows were thrown back by an eerie green light that began to permeate from the dead townsfolk. Whimpers and growls echoed through the night as houses were lit by the glowing dead. Then, all of a sudden, the butchered townsfolk began to twitch, the mound beginning to writhe as the blood flowed into it.
The townsfolk pushed at each other with frigid, shaky movements. A low gurgle came from their throats, and you could almost hear the black blood writhing within them. As the last drops were absorbed by the mound, their movements became more fluid and, climbing off from one another, they began to line up into formation before the crowned man. The wargs yelped and whined as their meals crawled away.
The demon straightened and faced the other three figures. The middle of the three pulled back its hood and drew closer to the crowned man. White hair flowed down her back and framed an ivory white face. A single scarlet scar ran down the right side of her features, starting at her brow and ending at her chin, framing the permanent scowl that plagued her terrifying person. She measured her words and collected her emotions carefully before she spoke.
"Has it begun, my Lord Eldrikch?"
The demon’s eyes twinkled in the moonlight as he studied his disciple, before turning to look at his legion of undead who still glowed green in the night. A fire had broken out and framed his army in destruction. The wargs littered the various rooftops around the square, either still munching upon various body parts, or settled down to wait for their master.
In a deep and ancient voice, he replied. "Yes Serlaena, it has begun."