Bodies. There were bodies everywhere. But they were not just corpses that had been long dead, or that had died as the result of a fight with other people. No, these bodies were ravaged. They were torn apart, their blood soaking the sand and turning it from its regular pale hue to a deep crimson. The taste of iron wafted through the air as the gore saturated the air around the man. There was a cart as well that had been destroyed in an equally through manner. It looked like the result of an attack by a large beast, much like the rest of the scene before the pyromancer.
Instinctually, Darius brought his magic to bear and felt the warmth grow in the palm of his hand. That very same palm then blackened before a flame leaped into existence, ready and waiting for whatever might have caused the attack. It was then that Darius heard a low growl on the dune next to him, followed by a cry of terror that was cut short by the sound of gnashing teeth. Spinning toward the source of the cry, Darius lit up his other hand to confront the beast. Approaching him, the throat of a recently slain man in his maw, stood a creature as black as night. If it had ben smaller, Darius would have called it a wolf, but it was far too large to be a simple beast. Scars carved their way across its body, and is long, saber-like fanged appeared to be the most threatening of its traits.
Darius wanted to strike, or to flee, putting some distance between the two of them before raining down hell on what was clearly a powerful creature. But he was stopped short by something be did not expect. The wolf looked up at him and bared its fangs before asking Darius who he was as he circled around him. Managing to keep his composure despite the surprise of being asked such a thing by the wold, Darius turned slowly as he followed the wolf’s movements, remaining ever-ready for an attack. Nevertheless, he spoke back, his words calm and slow as he tried to diffuse the situation. “I am merely a traveller moving through these harsh lands. Though I must ask, is that what these men were as well? Travelers set upon by a savage beast? Or is there a reason for this carnage?”
Instinctually, Darius brought his magic to bear and felt the warmth grow in the palm of his hand. That very same palm then blackened before a flame leaped into existence, ready and waiting for whatever might have caused the attack. It was then that Darius heard a low growl on the dune next to him, followed by a cry of terror that was cut short by the sound of gnashing teeth. Spinning toward the source of the cry, Darius lit up his other hand to confront the beast. Approaching him, the throat of a recently slain man in his maw, stood a creature as black as night. If it had ben smaller, Darius would have called it a wolf, but it was far too large to be a simple beast. Scars carved their way across its body, and is long, saber-like fanged appeared to be the most threatening of its traits.
Darius wanted to strike, or to flee, putting some distance between the two of them before raining down hell on what was clearly a powerful creature. But he was stopped short by something be did not expect. The wolf looked up at him and bared its fangs before asking Darius who he was as he circled around him. Managing to keep his composure despite the surprise of being asked such a thing by the wold, Darius turned slowly as he followed the wolf’s movements, remaining ever-ready for an attack. Nevertheless, he spoke back, his words calm and slow as he tried to diffuse the situation. “I am merely a traveller moving through these harsh lands. Though I must ask, is that what these men were as well? Travelers set upon by a savage beast? Or is there a reason for this carnage?”
