AGE 96

The Eternal Rift - YEAR 5

May 22 YR5

Fierce winds pierced even the thickest armor, freezing the most durable leathers, the storm never let up, the sun constantly blocked out. The party had been trekking through the mountain for what felt like many weeks now without any clear direction. Foul magic had separated them all and now they were all lost chasing each other’s tracks in circles around the mountain peak while the magic well of the necromancers increased and the rift grew larger and larger by the minute. Even the elves' clear sight could not see through the mirage of the storm, even the gnome's keen senses could not break the vale of the shadow.

The leader of the group, the human Lord Balthor, pushed on without his compatriots searching for the prize when suddenly the snow and wind stood still. Time had frozen and only his breath was visible now, he tried to drop his sword and shield but they were frozen to his hands which were so black from frost burn he could no longer feel them. A blue and purple fire appeared in front of him, the only other thing in motion now as the world stood still. In his mind he thought, “I was numb with fear but still, I wanted to go. The ice shards in the wind did no harm upon me as I walked into the storm, then I felt I was in a trance and my spirit was lifted from me. If only someone had a chance to witness what had happened to me, they danced and they pranced and I sat with them, they all had death in the eyes. Lifeless figures, they were undead, all of them, they had ascended from HELL!”

Falling to his knees in the snow he sat with them around the fire and they all watched him with great intent as he slowly began to turn to ice and become covered with snow that slowly now began to fall, the wind had stopped now and they began chanting in their lost language. Our hero's eyes now closed as the last breath of life escaped from his lips, a once great lord now turns to an ice sculpture in the crystalline palace of the undead atop the Spine of the World! Ceylene the elven ranger had not yet succumbed to the cold as her survival magic protected her indefinitely from harsh weather, illusion or not, she was protected. “BALTHOR!!!” She cried as she pushed her way through the snow and frozen flora. “BALTHOR!!” her voice echoed through the peaks and the valleys in the spine, “BALTHOR!”. The undead surrounding Lord Balthor heard the call and smirked with devilish intent for on the third calling of his name his eyes opened but were now fiery blue, glowing now his heart turned to ice. He stood up and like a zombie walked off into the storm without saying a word, without drawing a breath, his armor and weapons now fused to his body he began hunting for his party.

FADE TO BLACK