J. Thomas Walker

Wind flowed, Dark rose, there was a sense of right, everything in its place, ordered and calm."Dark Tide, Advance!" his voice, carried by some magical force, echoed across the Mountain Range.

Troops began to move, carrying the fire of destruction in their hands and in their blood. Steel glinted and on the horizon two red eyes glowed. Terin and its twin Varon lighting the fire in their deadly eyes. 5000 furlongs or more and they would be known even in the light of the dark moon which sheltered them now. This night they must meet Sirade, he would guide them to Darkblood, last pinnacle before the white lands. It had taken them many hard years to get shelter, say nothing of the price. However it was all worth it if Terin fell. Then Varon the neutral twin would follow.

He rode forward, his horse Shadow moving like the wind an inky blot in the night. At the head of the column, he rode. Forward were the twins and Sirade. The scent of rain hung gently in the air. Upon dawn the blinding fog would come. In that they would perish beneath the White Guard which hunted their kind by light of the silver mist. Must meet Sirade!

They rode on until on the horizon appeared a figure shrouded in tattered gray and black. From the hollow sockets of his eyes emanated an awesome light without source. The lurid glow enshrouded him. The white in his cloak almost seemed to glow a sickly purple. "Sirade" he muttered. Last Barrow Wight of the Misty Foothills. Then, a chilling sound as if the rasping voice of a long dead warrior, extending out from the burial site. "Durak Come With Me To Darkblood!!" a sinister laugh then ensued from the icy mouth of the wight.

For three hours they rode behind the wight not daring to get close. And as the first blush of morning came they were before the gates of Darkblood. The gate swung, mutely open before Sirade's hand. One thousand five hundred "beings" filed in to the huge main court yard seeking a place to rest. Obsidian pinicles and walls of black ashen volcanic rocks encompassed them. Sirade now stood before him. "You will be safe here." said that cold voice of his. A feeling like nothing before came over him, an embodied fear , flowing from Sirade. It made him want to run and hide in some dark corner of the multiverse. "Where would be a good place for my troops to stay in this,estate?" he asked. "Rose court yard, has the fewest specters." perhaps it was just a play of the light but his eyes almost seemed to flicker as if he were laughing inside."If you dare to need anything I'll be in the barrow due north." he extended his hand and Durak almost took it before pulling away. All who touched a wight would meet there doom soon. You could almost see a smirk on his bony lips. With that he left. The door closing behind him.

The day was surprisingly uneventful and at night fall they were ready to move out. Sirade came to the the gate and this time using a skeletal key, lead them out. A short time later when they thought they had left him far behind the voice came from far away as if carried by Zephyr lord of the Wind. "Remember Durak you may never come back to this haven again unless your dead!"

The Dark surrounded them. It filled him. Soon they were within a bow shot of Terin's bleak walls. "Entrench!" The sounds of steel and wood came across the field to him. The people would not attack until there ally dawn came. So much of the night still awaited them. In to 22.5 mirids of the moon ( 1.5 hours) the trench was dug. The troops waited impatiently for dawn when their enemies the Terins would attack what they believed to be a weak enemy. At that point a dark smile came across his face. Now and then the whir of a crossbow firing fallowed by the occasional scream of agony came from above on the walls. Sleep did not come to him instead a waking dream came. He saw Terin falling but not before his monstrous green horde but a army of Dark White.

In the morning as the fog came the Terins attacked from out of the mist. But what they met was death seemingly rising from the ground before them. As the sun vaporized the fog the bodies of men could be seen across the battle field. Suddenly the gate swung wide riders on white stallions poured forth. Seeing no choice he ordered "Dark Tide Charge!". And from out of the trenches rose sickly green twisted forms! Orcs! Orcish blood began to flow almost immediately and were its acidic form meet the ground the grass withered and died. Slowly they fell before the Whit tide which marched against them. When all was done and the sun began to fall, the trench had filled with vile orcish blood and only one white rider lay upon the field.

Durak stood in agony of his defeat and the Terins let him be. He mourned for 10 days watching the orcs decay rapidly from all the vileness within them. On the 11^th day all that was left were bones. The next day he awoke to an eerie sound of creaking and clicking. In the mist he saw dark holes then shadowy forms as the fog shredded, before his eyes a bleached and deathly white skeletal horde, with black nothingness for eyes, stood. A group was hacking away at the body of the dead rider then they turned to look once at him as if promising "We will take them with us."

The battle raged for a day and a night. Upon the morn of the thirteenth day after battle all were dead. As he roamed the silent halls he saw that upon the chest of every body lay an orcish skull!

Incarnate