A Gift of Power
Walking into a dark chamber deep within the Forsaken Mountain, Gathon angrily approached a human in a black robe, standing in front of a pool of green liquid. The ambient lighting created from this substance cast a very ominous atmosphere around the entire room. Bending his knee before the elderly man who was removing his hood, Gathon spoke in a harsh and hasty tone of voice.
“Is the plague ready, Lord Gorethorn? Nekada has brought the troops to their encampment and will attack any moment now.”
“Patience, Overlord. I have seen what is to come, and it’s glorious. When the plague consumes the heir, the elder will fall.”
“As you wish. When will you depart for Serony to meet with him?”
“As soon as the injection is complete. You will have your selected few elite beings. Even one will be enough to wipe out every last one of them. The plagued beasts were a success after all. They still linger in the ruined city after so many years.
Getting back up on his feet, Bloodfist stared into the pool that reeked with the stench of putrefaction. Turning around and withdrawing from the chamber, Gathon lifted his hammer up onto his shoulder and reached for the door. However, when Gorethorn continued, he glanced back and listened.
“You can begin to line up the ones you believe will survive the corruption long enough. Be aware that they will never walk this ground again after consuming the Elarikan.”
“Elarikan?” Gathon grunted.
“It’s the name of the plague, or the controllable substance of it at least. I’m working on a way to weaponize it without needing to wait for the bodies to rot. You should go and ready your group, the time is almost here.”
Giving him a quick bow, Gathon left the room and went to select the warriors that would receive this life-altering change.
With the green flare of the liquid dancing in the old man’s eyes, a subtle smile crept across his face.