Snippet #1885811

There was something about darkness that Torga didn't like. The darkness had always concealed an evil. For as long as he could remembered, the veil of night hid many things, a great deal of which had always put Torga on edge. Vigilance was the game that he and his tribe played since the massacre so many years ago, and even since then they had not been able to keep his tribe at a steady number of people for more than a few weeks. The Paragon was the only thing that had kept them alive, though his tribe, three hundred strong and comprised of almost half that in warriors, was now dwindling. Torga had afforded the warriors he had left to The Paragon, in hopes that the encounter would not end in the same was as their meeting with The Civil or The Children.

At the very least, they allowed his some semblance of freedom.

Lately, however, he was beginning to regret his decision. The incident in the city, between damaging the street, and cracking an assassin's skull like an eggshell, had gotten him a reprimand. The command structure now had a tight reign on Torga, and he was to remain near a ranking officer while he was on duty to avoid another "outburst." This had undoubtedly cost him in the long run. He wasn't even considered to go down into the castle that they had arrived at. Unbeknownst to him at the moment, he had probably avoided a fate that was intended for him long ago.

The night was still young, however.

Torga was becoming restless. It seemed that no matter what he did, or where he went, no matter what he did, he couldn't escape. Everybody had an eye on him, and nobody seemed to trust him. Life on the run had made him a callous survivalist. Sometimes the end justified the means, and he was becoming impatient with people who couldn't see that. Having principles was one thing, but he was beginning to doubt The Paragon. They were too nice for this world. They try to force their own brand of order on the chaos, unaware of what would soon come back to bite them in their naive asses. They were young and pompous. They had learned much in their short time on Norr, but they would soon come to learn what Torga had learned many years ago.

The wind began to shift, blowing towards the stone castle. It was beautifully crafted. It was a shame that he had never gotten to meet the Dwarves before they had been slain. They had had a respect for earth and stone that rivaled his own. The more he looked at the castle, however, the more it's demeanor betrayed it's grandness. A darkness resonated in the stone and permeated the air. It wafted against the wind, with an unintelligible yet unmistakable stench. Torga postured himself defensively. Though he was familiar with the darkness of night, this was another brand of darkness that he knew just as well. He began to growl like a cornered dog, bearing his teeth almost instinctively.

Torga knelt and put his hand to the ground, tuning into the vibrations of the earth. This was a ritual passed to him by his father, known by the Shaman of his tribe as The Earthsong. It was a spell of scrying and prescience using the Earth as its medium. With the spell, he could sense the vibrations of his element, and learn of the past and present of the earth on which the spell was cast.

The first thing he heard was screaming. The darkness that hung around the castle screeched loudly. It was as though the stone was in horrid pain, begging for a death that it would never be able to submit to. It was chilling. For the first time in a long time, a primal sense of fear gripped him. Whatever had happened in this castle had scarred the stone in almost every way but physically. As he listened in further, he could sense movement within the castle. He couldn't distinguish one set of feet walking from the other, but he could sense in their steps mixed emotions.

Fear and anger were definitely there, but what he felt most was hunger. A great deal of feet shuffled about inside, each charged with a sense of insatiable hunger and murderous intent. Something in that castle was searching for something to kill and devour. The scream of the castle's stones began to overwhelm his sense, and he gripped his head in agony, taking his hands away from the earth and silencing the Earthsong. He scrambled back to his feet.

"Something unspeakable has gone on in there," Torga said grimly, "and I imagine that it has yet to finish running its course."

Torga gripped Wrath's comparatively small shoulder unnervingly, hoping to get his attention.

"Get your people out of there."