Yesterday's news...
16.
It was in the Second Opacity of the Scriveners that the crops began to die, and a dark melancholy rode with Sarbox the Destroyer. For, though Sarbox was the Omen of the Coming Darkness, and could weather starvation for years on end, the same boast could not be made of his massive Torg. For, though he had ridden his Torg these many years, though its hooves had ground a fine powder from the bleaching bones of his many enemies, and though he had roasted many Ur-Fellowes like meaty marshmallows in the deadlights of that massive Torg, all of these features made it a hungry steed, indeed. And for many years this was not a problem to Sarbox, for the crops would grow and be used by kings to feed armies and go take conquest to the doorsteps of other countries whose crops grew even better. But the crop was dying, in the wake of a vile plague which turned the plants black and fluid-a vile naphtha which burned and set wildfires to the fields. Kings pulled their armies home, no longer able to feed their war efforts (except the Hobbled Duke of Mor’Eck, who cared not for the petty concerns of his armies). Thus, did Sarbox the Destroyer face the sad truth that his massive Torg would need to be replaced. First, Sarbox made investigation of the wicked Epa, which could eat almost anything to continue down the millions of miles of roads Sarbox wandered. But the warrior’s attention was claimed by the crafty Aurumancers of Blar, who used their mind-witchery to crush the brain of Sarbox the Destroyer beneath their magical phrase, “In the grim darkness of pre-history, there is only the Slor.”
…but what of his massive Torg? To be continued!
Too transparent?
It was in the Second Opacity of the Scriveners that the crops began to die, and a dark melancholy rode with Sarbox the Destroyer. For, though Sarbox was the Omen of the Coming Darkness, and could weather starvation for years on end, the same boast could not be made of his massive Torg. For, though he had ridden his Torg these many years, though its hooves had ground a fine powder from the bleaching bones of his many enemies, and though he had roasted many Ur-Fellowes like meaty marshmallows in the deadlights of that massive Torg, all of these features made it a hungry steed, indeed. And for many years this was not a problem to Sarbox, for the crops would grow and be used by kings to feed armies and go take conquest to the doorsteps of other countries whose crops grew even better. But the crop was dying, in the wake of a vile plague which turned the plants black and fluid-a vile naphtha which burned and set wildfires to the fields. Kings pulled their armies home, no longer able to feed their war efforts (except the Hobbled Duke of Mor’Eck, who cared not for the petty concerns of his armies). Thus, did Sarbox the Destroyer face the sad truth that his massive Torg would need to be replaced. First, Sarbox made investigation of the wicked Epa, which could eat almost anything to continue down the millions of miles of roads Sarbox wandered. But the warrior’s attention was claimed by the crafty Aurumancers of Blar, who used their mind-witchery to crush the brain of Sarbox the Destroyer beneath their magical phrase, “In the grim darkness of pre-history, there is only the Slor.”
…but what of his massive Torg? To be continued!
Too transparent?