Post by andycd on May 27, 2020 9:31:01 GMT
The people of K’ul Goran had learned to avoid the scar across the landscape, circumscribing the country since the end of the Jotun Invasion (historians were still nailing the name down). Grass was starting to grow over it in patches in the countryside, yellowed in the sun though it had never gotten that healthy to begin with. The more complex parts had faded completely after the battle, leaving only the main ring as a permanent reminder that something had gone very wrong. The blight on crops across the country was universally blamed on this scar, though there was no hard evidence of this beyond how damn creepy it was.
The air, always so unpredictable, began to rise above that circle as it suddenly grew warmer, a breeze carrying leaves and petals up into the sky. A few moments later, the entire ring roared into life, flaring with brilliant orange light, hot though mercifully not on fire.
That was the only mercy K’ul Goran would see for a while.
There was a precise centre to that circle, of course, a small turnip field east of Zot Goran. Scholars had pinpointed this some time ago and, as a precaution, had set up a small guard post on the edge of the field for the last several months. And so it was a young soldier named Vera Neckcracker who first saw the rift spin into being.
Sitting on the stone wall, looking out across the field, Vera watched in alarm as a spark of orange appeared in the air, spinning in a tight vertical circle like a firework, gaining speed and intensity rapidly. It sparked and fizzled and the rotation was shaky, but it never stopped. As she called for the others, it grew to about three inches wide, and a clawed red hand pushed through. As the mage stationed with them signalled back to headquarters of the news, the first imp had squeezed its way through the tiny gap.
The soldiers fell upon it instantly, knocking the creature out of the air and spearing it repeatedly until it dissolved into ash, but the next imp was already halfway out of the portal. There was a minute of tense battle as they tried to keep on top of the tide as the rift in the air continued to spin and grow very slowly and haltingly. One or two imps managed to get past them and fly off into the air, vanishing as they jeered at the soldiers below.
In a sudden flash, an aerotaur man appeared in the field, holding a staff which he pointed at the rift, sealing it in a cage of purple light. The next imp to emerge pounded its fists against the edges of the box and made obscene gestures at the exhausted and relieved guards, yet more tiny hands reaching through another was already working its way through.
“This gives us one hour of safety,” the mage assured the soldiers.”But only one - I cannot do this again.” He looked out at the horizon, beginning to glow in all directions with the deep orange of the ring around K’ul Goran, and then back to the rift, now six inches wide and still expanding gradually, imps now finding it easier to get through. “I pray more allies can arrive soon.”
The air, always so unpredictable, began to rise above that circle as it suddenly grew warmer, a breeze carrying leaves and petals up into the sky. A few moments later, the entire ring roared into life, flaring with brilliant orange light, hot though mercifully not on fire.
That was the only mercy K’ul Goran would see for a while.
There was a precise centre to that circle, of course, a small turnip field east of Zot Goran. Scholars had pinpointed this some time ago and, as a precaution, had set up a small guard post on the edge of the field for the last several months. And so it was a young soldier named Vera Neckcracker who first saw the rift spin into being.
Sitting on the stone wall, looking out across the field, Vera watched in alarm as a spark of orange appeared in the air, spinning in a tight vertical circle like a firework, gaining speed and intensity rapidly. It sparked and fizzled and the rotation was shaky, but it never stopped. As she called for the others, it grew to about three inches wide, and a clawed red hand pushed through. As the mage stationed with them signalled back to headquarters of the news, the first imp had squeezed its way through the tiny gap.
The soldiers fell upon it instantly, knocking the creature out of the air and spearing it repeatedly until it dissolved into ash, but the next imp was already halfway out of the portal. There was a minute of tense battle as they tried to keep on top of the tide as the rift in the air continued to spin and grow very slowly and haltingly. One or two imps managed to get past them and fly off into the air, vanishing as they jeered at the soldiers below.
In a sudden flash, an aerotaur man appeared in the field, holding a staff which he pointed at the rift, sealing it in a cage of purple light. The next imp to emerge pounded its fists against the edges of the box and made obscene gestures at the exhausted and relieved guards, yet more tiny hands reaching through another was already working its way through.
“This gives us one hour of safety,” the mage assured the soldiers.”But only one - I cannot do this again.” He looked out at the horizon, beginning to glow in all directions with the deep orange of the ring around K’ul Goran, and then back to the rift, now six inches wide and still expanding gradually, imps now finding it easier to get through. “I pray more allies can arrive soon.”
