~~~ " Unbound " ~~~
~ " Unbound " ~
- Prologue -
An embryo of evenfall broke its heavy waters upon a parched land, which distilled distress like an unforgiven sinner, as a heinous, diabolic, vaulted shroud, black as chilled basalt magma, stole the shadows of thieves and blinded rogues via an odious sky, who dared to venture amongst the undisputed stomping ground of the unmentionable Night Stalker; too dangerous to exist anywhere, for Abaddon could not bind him, and whose havoc wrought fear and revulsion into even the infamous, malignant, fiendishly dark heart of that monstrosity known as Jack the Ripper. Yea, even the undead dared not unbolt their reinforced, oaken doors, and executioners quivered next to their cruor-daubed axes, trembling hands becoming unwieldy, for unleashed upon the now quietened bustle of a fog-blanked township brewed the most vile abomination that had ever escaped the deepest recesses of a black-hole abyss….a creature so fierce, that even courage vanished from the Titans.
Tonight, a town would die, as a sacrificial morsel for the appetite of its ravenous, unsatiated hunger, and unquenchable thirst longed for crimson gushes, drizzled over sarcoline goose-bumps of human flesh; a submissive world would soon learn what it meant to bow before hooves shod by Talos the Destroyer and enchanted by the Norse Prince-god of Nefarious Malediction…..a living nightmare which made even the Sandman incant himself, and beg for rested hours of oblivious sleep, when faced with the horror of his milieu.
Arcane necromancers possessed not even the rumour of thought, nor the slightest, miniscule knowledge which might lend even a brief control of this gargantua of spectral sorcery; no grimoire nor thaumaturgist amid the land could'st be found which might steer his unfathomable mass.
This sorrowful harvestman, god-father to the Grim Reaper, bursting with pent-up aeons of unadulterated fury and millennia of compacted yearnings for evil murder, now arrived to pronounce the reality of his myth and claim the Earth as his throne.
Where once flourished, hope, it now succumbed, and ceased to exist; the embodiment of numen, master of faithlessness, and demi-god of the elements was worshipped by daemon acolytes who magnified his awe. This unholy, graven image strode out in superbia and self-glorification to claim dominion – no power prevailed against his bloody onslaught and all resistance obliterated, for even the glorious diamond kingdoms were crushed into ruination amongst sinewy claws of unmeasurable robustness.
Only one , hardy mortal could reply to this pestilent manifestation….this animation….an ancient, repugnant powerhouse of jinx, bedecked with the anatomy of folded steel, glinting of the rusted matt of an old crone’s tooth; with savage locks, clumped like wet tobacco that issued drab hues of sulphur-impregnated hag’s hair. The only silence was the sound of him not begging like his prey, as they continually wept whilst his roar resounded with the force of a dozen earthquakes, followed by the breath of a typhoon wrapped within a whirlwind.
The warrior, who championed his own heart was the only challenge that stood in his way; this seasoned, battle-scarred patron of purity would seek to chain this old death, and lead it to new death, as he valiantly brandished the sword that was smithed before Excalibur was ever born….
The battle for the future had begun.......and the Armies of Light would win the victory.