Story 412: The Warlord of the Forsaken

Rook stumbled back, gripping his blade tightly as the echo of guttural growls filled the fog-laden air. The once-silent chamber erupted with unearthly sounds as the shadows coalesced into the form of a monstrous figure. Standing at the forefront of a horde of skeletal warriors, the creature was a nightmare given flesh—or what remained of it. Its glowing eyes burned with malevolent intelligence, its jagged armor fused to decayed flesh like a cruel second skin.

“By the gods…” Shadow whispered, drawing her twin blades as the monstrous horde began to march forward, their decaying weapons gleaming under the dim light.

The leader, towering over its kin, carried a rusted axe in one hand and a battered shield in the other. The ground trembled with each step it took, as if the earth itself feared its presence. It stopped a mere few feet from Rook and Shadow, tilting its grotesque skull, its glowing eyes locking onto them.