Thursday 27th October 2016

Plague Lord

The Plague lord stood at the tower window seeming to gaze off into nothingness he extended his senses to survey the horde below, he did not see them, but rather felt the presence of their damned souls. As he briefly connected with each of them in turn he could feel their burning hate for him, hate for life, hate for the living, self-loathing, and cold despair that only the tormented dead can know.

His horde was ready for the march, as he surveyed his troops, so his master the Corpse king surveyed him, a chain of command had never been so well connected, never had communication been so perfect for an army. He could command them to die if he wished, a simple thought from him would see their final release. He held the key to their minds, he could veto any whim, give complex instructions that would be carried out to the best of their ability, or simply listen in, "my troops may hate me, but they obey" he thought. A cold grimace of a smile crept across his dry leathery face. His masters control over him was not so complete, true, the Corpse king was all powerful, true, he could unmake him with a word... but what if he did not see the blow coming, what if the slave could revolt quick enough to supplant him and seize the throne of power before he could react? This was Vath’ar ist’s thin thread of hope, this is what had kept him going all these long years.

The Corpse king sat on his throne in the darkness, perfect shadow still, cold, and impenetrable. His jaw creaked as he felt himself move as if to smile, not a smile of joy, but a cold smile of irony. He was listening to the thoughts of his generals, like all subjugated minions they hated their master, Vath'ar ist, Plague lord of the north was typical of his peers. The Corpse king let them think they were autonomous, subjugated by fear, and in truth they were, but only because he chose it to be so. He could hear all of his vast legion's thoughts, almost see them like a great river passing him by, they were his thoughts, his legion was driven by one intellect, his intellect. They posed no more threat to him than did his feet or teeth. He found it amusing to listen in on their thoughts without their knowledge many of his most cruel moments were inspired by the thoughts of what they would do to him given the chance. He smiled creakily again and willed his forces to advance, his legion advanced as one, every step in unison with the next, they marched on Ka, then they broke stride and erupted fourth like a tide of darkness. The horde was not slowed down by the terrain, they loped, crawled, and ran through the cold night, they were completely silent, they did not tire, they did not even bother to slow down for rivers, they forged them were they found them, no need for bridges or roads, they advanced with speed, a silent rusty dagger plunging for the heart of the empire. Soon Ka would fall, soon the Bereghast would have his vengeance...