Daily character sketch: The Darkling Lord.

And behold, stepping from the smolder and the smoke, strode the form of our Lord. Cloaked in robes of night, cast upon the darkest of armor that, though should have swallowed all light, glinted the sun; it's casting like white hot needles to my eyes. From under his shadowy helm I could just see a face of nightmares, creased as it was, from power, or age, or both. His pallor like storm clouds, his jaw - ghoulishly long, dressed in hair like the muzzle of a beast. A ragged main of silver gray bramble escaped from his dome, casting itself about his shoulders. 

Clutching a twisted staff adorned with a stone the liquidity of milk, he stepped heavily toward our Master. As he drew close, it was as if his every step chased the evening heat from the ground. His eyes, more empty than the deepest abyss, never left his gaze upon our Master.

"ORIN," he spoke, his voice like a tremor that tore fissures in the sky. At the hearing of him call to our Master, my knees gave, and I fell, prostrate, to the ground. If not for the sheer joy of the Destroyer turned flesh before me I confess I would have but soiled myself. About me I could see the Master's house did not share the fortitude of my heart's joy. And, lifting my head, did I so dare my eyes to bare witness, for I saw not once did our Master as much come to stumble, lest relent, but merely with a smile did so listen.

"BEFORE YOU IS DRIVEN THE HEART OF THIS EMPIRE, AS SO I ASKED. I HAVE HEARD THE CRIES AND ANGUISH OF ITS PEOPLE, AND IT PLEASEs ME. THIS DAY DO I CAST UPON YOU MY FAVOR." And with that, his grotesque hand drew from an unseen place under his long cloak, a terrible blade. Before him, at the feet of the Master, he plunged it into the soil, and for not did I hear the very land weep. "TAKE ALOFT THIS SWORD, FORGED OF THE VERY HEART OF MINE. DRAW IT FORTH UNTO EVERY FOLLY THAT SHOULD CHALLENGE YOU UPON THE FIELDS, AND KNOW YOU NEVER THE TASTE OF DEFEAT."

As the Master gripped firm the hilt, taking of the blade upon him, all we gathered there could feel the very holds of heaven sobbing at the rot to be brought them at the Master's hands. I wept in the sheer joy that overcame my heart...

From the uncompleted manuscripts of Arkhem Sylum

"The Holy Crusade of Orin T'pak"

Scroll 3 block7