Chapter 2Mature

Sunlight crawled over the scorched cliffs at Tintagel. Dozens of hungry vultures circled menacingly above, squawking loudly. Every now and again a group would dive, land and return to the sky with the flesh of men hanging from their beaks. A pungent smell of burning flesh wafted from the fortress as a strong fire continued to burn.

The Goblins mercilessly slaughtered every man, woman, and child. Their bodies were decapitated, their heads impaled on spears and stuck high in the walls above the fortress. Galmon had intended for Tintagel to serve as a message, and the message was clear, the time of man was coming to a close. The fortress of Tintagel was doomed to fall, and with it, Uther Pendragon. With Uther and his forces dead, Galmon faced little resistance in the countryside that lie ahead.

Duke Erik Markus was a fool hearted man who valued self-importance above much else. He made a pact with the fiend King Galmon, agreeing he would slay Uther Pendragon and convince his forces to lie down their weapons and surrender. All the Duke wished for in return, was a position of power in Galmon's ranks. Even the goblin king with no heart was amazed at the Duke's capacity for treachery, and felt it deserved a just reward.

The Duke's body contorted as he lay on the ground covered in mud and the blood of the men he had betrayed. His heart was almost beating out of his chest and he shook uncontrollably. Galmon towered above, perched on his throne nestled in the spines on the back of a giant serpent. The creature was massive and covered in thick scales harder than the any rock yet unearthed. It hailed from the darkest and deepest abyss in the depths of the Cader Idris. Only the might of the fiends could tame such an abomination.

Two yellow spheres appeared along it's face, piercing the Duke's spirit. The creature's eyes glazed over watching him wriggle like a worm in the dirt. Galmon rose to his feet and began to pound on his chest and let out a terrifying shriek. Hundreds of fiends roared in imitation, others such as the giants, beat on the ground causing the earth beneath them to shake and shift.

Galmon raised his war-staff high above his head; to his army, it was a symbol of Galmon's strength and authority. Dug from the corpses of the Dragon's of Plight, and fused from nine pieces of their backbone, the staff was imbued with the blackest of magiks. The mere possession of such an artifact allowed Galmon to rally the lower fiends under his command. Those that were not forced to fall into his leagues, were simply killed.

Surrounded by the hundreds of monstrosities of Galmon's army, Duke Markus was now huddled into a ball and convulsing on the ground, close to unconsciousness. A loud thud startled him, as something landed hard on the ground next to him. Galmon leaped off the back of the creature and now stood towering above the pitiful man.

The End

2 comments about this story Feed