The way of the warrior is barred by his creed. He is loyalty embodied, and draws breath only by virtue of his principles. But there is nothing worse than a warrior betrayed. The emperor learned this first hand, when he crossed our hero. Now his head stands on a pike, for all others to see.
Welcome, to the temple of the turning wind. A holy place in which thoughts flee from mind, and are replaced by a homely whistling hollow. People come from the world round to find peace here. And that they do. As well as the beast with lungs like iron pipes, who inhales deeply their dying dreams.
The hero of our story has fallen ill. The villain has won and the world is thrown into bleak and utter despair. Our savior is lethargic. He is gripping his stomach like it’s going to fall out. And he’s never going to eat McDonalds ever again. Damn you, ridiculously cheap and convenient beef mouth pleasure.
Music never truly ends, we just stop listening. It is alive. What we hear are only its echoes. The gnarliest, heaviest sounds with the sharpest edges, are merely the teeth of this creature. An organism, with wings fluttering like the melody of a harp, and hooves that dance to the beat of the war drum.
The mountains parted, leaving a clearing between – wide like a door standing open. On the other side, was a lake still and unmoving. Saying that the lake reflected the stars did it no justice. No, it was like an obsidian mirror, mercurous and speckled by dots of light that winked, as if they were flirting.
He opened the last door. It was a deep bloody redwood with a handle half hanging. He paused, reflecting on how far he had come. When he was ready, he twisted the handle and the door gave way. He gasped. She was beautiful. Bright blonde hair. Long legs. Three rockin’ tits. She was awesome.
The lightning flickered amongst the clouds in intricate patterns, tethering them together like desperate stitches keeping the sky closed. And God forbid the binding break, for if it did, it would unleash a fulmination of all the prisoners of the sky. The birds, or beasts, that fly without pity and harbinger the end of times.