Snippet #2081188

Drakenvold could feel the power of the almighty creature behind him. It was at this time he thanked the power of creation for giving him wings, for the journey would have been long and taxing on foot, and he would have been lunch by then. Even the allied forces situated at the grim forge would be hard pressed to knock such a beast from the skies. When he arrived at the volcanic island after a few days of travelling he felt a pang of dissapointment as he looked at his men. Hordes of gibbering darklings just stood there idly, some lowering themselves to scratch their backsides while some just stared blankly at a wall. Idiots, he thought to himself , they were supposed to be all ready and organised by the time he got there. "What the hell are you worthless meat bags doing? Get back to work, you slackers! Man those cannons! Archers, take your positions! Elites, man the ballistae! Those without a designated task, go lug back as much ammunition as you possibly can, lug till your backs break, unless you are keen on the idea of us using YOU as spare ammo!"
His horde began to make a mad dash as they strove to accomplish the tasks their master had set them. With his eyepatch, his bloodied features and the crazed glint in his one good eye made him look the part of a wily sea captain, except his ship was an island, and it could not move.

With bated breath, the Old Ones awaited the arrival of the almost unstoppable beast.