The boat pulls into the sullen, empty run down dock that had seen better days, his eyes narrow to small slits as he looks out from the boat slowly he wipes the bloody dagger on his cloak as he steps over the body of the captain of the vessel. He darts a look at the crew who back away from him so he can depart the ship. As he steps off the boat he hears a sigh off relief from the crew who set sail as fast as possible, a dry wind picks up the sails and pulls the ship away from the cursed land.
As he looks across the rotting dock over the soft wind he hears jeering and shouting at him from ship, words of abuse and curses that if answered would curse him for all time to come, smiling under his mask he turns and watches the foolish sailors attempts to anger him. Than as planned the little ship explodes in a gulf off flames, the screams off burning men echo around the small bay and slowly the ship sinks beneath the waves He turns on his heels taking his first step forward into the dead city, deeper into the city he walks without a second thought for those men but feels the test for his new weapon performed well.
Only the sound of ash crushing under his boot can be heard in the empty ruins were once stood the power house of the Lord. He has no feelings towards the lose or pain looking at the crumbing ruins, his mind is dark and the heart frozen as he accepts the scene that engulfs him. Ruins can be rebuilt and new followers folk to the Dark Banner already this is nothing but a tiny set back to his plans.
Further he walks deeper into the ruined city and in the distance he can see the glow off a fire high in one off the towers, it guides him deeper into the dead and long forgotten land. He steps over rotting corpses he notices some are fallen warriors and also some of his own men. The sweet smell of rotting flesh does little to discourage him to moving forward but in-fact drive’s him onward, he reaches the base of the tower were he can hear the chanting like sounds of a male group.
He reaches the base of the tower, the only fully standing structure on the island as far as the eye, locating a wooden door he swings it slowly away from him before it drop’s to the ground the hinges broken, the noise echo’s up the stair well as the wood smashes to the ground a small dust cloud rises around him.
The sound of the chanting has eased as he moves towards the base of the stairwell the newly dust cloud slowly settles to the ground were he notices a number of fresh footprints that climb the stairs. He slowly climbs the staircase towards the top of the tower his boots hardly make a sound as he climbs, a upon reaching the top of the staircase he founds a door closed to him from under which a light of a flicking fire escapes he notices movement in the room a shadow of feet reach out under the door.
The door bursts open slamming against the wall, a cold wind that rushes into the room, there standing in the doorway a figure wearing a black cloak that swirls dancing in the cool blast. As the cloak hangs off the shoulders once again his eyes become a custom to the light were he founds himself greeted by a number of armed bows pointing at him. He steps into the light were he slowly removes his helmet, the light from the red flame captures his features slowly the face off one that was long thought to be dead.
A loud gasp can be heard arise from the group of men, some bows drop to the floor for a minute or two nothing is said, nothing needed to be said. Than a mighty cheer of male voices arise as if pulled from hell itself above all the noise some words can be heard echoing out from the island carried by the cold wind…..
“THE DARK LORD HAS RETURNED”