Administrators Ollie Posted December 20, 2022 Administrators Share Posted December 20, 2022 A blow from the pickaxe, another, and again a fragment of blue-starred ore fell at his decaying feet. The nameless skeleton remembered neither his name, nor how many years he had spent in those godforsaken mines. He remembered a distant sunny day and the smiles of loved ones, remembered the snow and the hot heat of the forge, and remembered... him. The figure in black had not changed in those long years, the necromancer's will still guiding the unresponsive undead and demanding only digging and forging. Yet one day something changed. The blows of pickaxe and hammer began to guide not the power of the master, but the bitterness and hatred of an unjustly interrupted life. Time after time the sheets of metal took on an achingly familiar shape... Armor forged in scaldingly cold flames. No, it was more than that. Not armor, but a new shell that would bring retribution... The breathless necromancer was left behind, and now there was only one way forward. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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