Expressionless, Farg walked through the woods. There was a vague memory from his life before....Before the wars....Before he came to serve Ahriman. The old ones would warn the children to stay out of these cursed woods. Cursed. Thats the word they used. It was the home of the Wierding they said.
What was the Wierding? No one could say, but the word struck fear into the hearts of the villagers, old and young. Farg had always felt drawn to it as a youth, though his fear and the laws of his people kept him from it. Until this day. Now, it was his mission to find the Wierding.
If asked, he could not say why he must find it. Only he knew he must. His mind had been filled with self-doubt lately. Was he strong enough? It was a daunting task he faced. The reconstruction of All That Is. It was his belief that only the spirit that was in these woods could tell him.
"Quiet," the King spoke alound. "Too quiet."
Until now, he had not noticed that there was sound. Not the sounds of the night creatures or the wind. Dark magic was the cause. The air stank of it.
"Too quiet for who," a raspy voice asked.
Startled, Farg stepped back. "Who's there? I seek the witch who roams theses woods."
"I AM NO WITCH," the voice said, angry. "You have no word for me. I am beyond you."
"I seek your counsil."
"My council," mused the Wierding. "Speak, then.:
Clearing his throat, Farg began...
(more to come)