Brokentooth March

[Strazio Rockwell]

　　In The Pale Moors a certain scent hung heavy in the thick acrid air. The smell of rot and corruption, the scent of devilry and death. Sour rain poured from the oppressive clouds. Even the ground turned against trespassers in this damned region. Sloppy muck and tangled weeds covered the Moors, everything inedible and inhospitable. The Moors pulsed with hostility, veins of profane magic sent evil through the very fabric of reality. Throngs of unholy monstrosities slaughtered the weak and carved pounds of flesh and sanity from the strong. No one was welcome here in this hellish landscape.
　　
　　Even in this pace of death Strazio felt strangely at home. The electric hostility in the air formed goosebumps across his scarred skin. His tongue pressed against the inside of his gritted teeth. Without hesitation he began the long trek to Darkshire. Acrid rain soaked his cloak and soupy mud clung desperately to his boots. Even the rainstorms threatened travelers here in the Moors. Wind buffeted the scowling Defender, slowing his progress to a crawl and chilling the marrow in his bones. But despite the austere environment he felt a surge of purpose. Every slipped step in the mud only served to fuel his unquenchable rage, and it was that rage that pushed him ever further to Darkshire. If Shang was to be found in that haven Strazio would find him.
　　
　　Ahead of him, only several meters out Strazio saw a hooded figure. Underneath the Avatar’s cloak the crackling of magick could be faintly heard. If this form was a foe there would be no respite for it. As Strazio neared his new acquaintance it called to him with a voice reminiscent of sandpaper.
　　
　　“Oi! Are you friend or foe!?”
　　
　　Strazio froze and shouted back through the downpour, “I’m a Defender of Darkshire, you tell me if we’re enemies!”
　　
　　“Ahg, thank Omni a Defendah, I’m glad ta see one-a-ya, ya see I’m a scout for Darkshire.” He spoke in an accent that mangled his words and stitched the remains back together “I’m tryna make it back, but up ahead a--a creature keeps meh at bay. I’m no good at faightin, but iffen ya can killit I’d be appreciative.”
　　
　　“You need me to kill something?” Strazio smirked, “I’m game, point me in the right direction.”
　　
　　“That’s-tha spirit bigguy, justa follow me and I’ll show ya the beasty.”
　　
　　A pair of meaty legs gave mobility to this creature. It lumbered aimlessly across the path to Darkshire. Strangely humanoid in appearance the monster howled and moaned and paid no mind to the approaching Strazio. Several rope-like arms protruded from a mass of pulsing flesh upon its back. Two sunken eyes smoldered deep in the creature’s skull. The hunchbacked monster seemed tortured by its own existence, what was once a man was now nothing more than an aberration of meat and sinew. Its beady eyes locked onto Strazio and a toothless grin greeted the approaching prime. From deep within the hunchback’s gullet came a baritone chuckle.
　　
　　“Life feels good, everything feels good, please make the redwater come out.”