Snippet #2624114

Ulm's stride was stopped to a halt by a brief flash in front of his face, well above the clouds that lay upon the land below. There in the air hovered the wretch of a host in this vile joke of a realm. His face twisted into a bestial expression of scorn. In a booming and condescending voice he spoke:

"What brings me to your fair land? To walk on your fair soil that serves only to wound the feet that strengthen it? To breathe your fair atmosphere of noxious air that carries the whisper of desolation? To see your fair people whom have sold their soul to a pretender god of corruption, only to become mindless husks of their former selves to serve as puppets?"

Towards the end the tone of his voice grew sharper and more savage, but he calmed his breath soon after. He further spoke:

"I have come to bathe in the Baleful Cauldron, my skin grows itchy and covered in the dust of ages. You will grant pass to this creation of mine, and i will ensure our relations will keep steady regardless of my opinion towards you."

Of all the Pretenders, Vescteseg was perhaps towards the bottom in his list of favourites, though none were really that likable to begin with.