Keeper of Devils.
Crystal quintessence, a diamond like serenity. The cold calamity and palpable illusion of stillness were shattered into sound as Whitemane’s hooves ripped through the misty moors.
A terrible and marvellous beast it was, a gargantuan ebon stallion, with a quicksilver mane and vibrant grey eyes of granite. The beast was only a steed however to the equally if not more horrific and fantastic beast that sat atop it.
Blane impelled his mythical mount to larger effort, urging it feverishly on. The black castle of Ulgaath loomed before rider and steed, crouching like a tenebrous behemoth awaiting its prey.
Enormous cloven feet smashed down on the heath land and fierce gusts of breath were expelled in tremulous snorts. The midnight mists swirling all around abruptly dissipated and the Azanian could see clearly the macabre host awaiting them.
A winged devil stood sentinel outside the castle gates, a purplish conflagration blazed about his reptilian skin and three holes Blane took for eyes burned a fiercer balefire.
The demon’s scabrous wings widened as Whitemane approached unfalteringly, it would take more than a demon to insight fear upon that intrepid mount.
Triple eyes of white fire met twin eyes of grey slashed with emerald as Blane and the devil considered one another. The demon taking in the warrior’s beyond impressive size and tribal markings.
“Greetings brave barbarian. My mistress bids you welcome,” the devil uttered in a sibilant slurring voice.
Blane cantered closer towards the amethystine demon, one strong hand gripped firmly on the hilt of his ancient Warsong blade. He surveyed the devil’s serrated wing’s flapping gently, although there was no wind to move them.
“The Lich lord spoke to me of Sarana’s guardian, be you he?” Blane asked brusquely, his eyes smouldering a fatal fire.
The demon’s lipless gash widened and rubiate fangs blossomed into existence. “One of many,” the fiend murmured assent.
Blane nodded mutely and dismounted fluidly.
The winged brute was of impressive size and amounted well over six feet, but Blane was taller still.
“Stay,” Blane commanded gently to Whitemane who snorted his understanding before standing stoically.
“Lead on,” Blane instructed the demon.
His malignant smile never changing, the purple devil turned and led the Azanian barbarian into the entrance of the black fortress.
RIP John Watkiss
1 year ago