Wayfare to an Uncertain Asylum, Chapter IV

From The Whereabouts
Shards of Basalt to Her Army astride Stalker of Regret and Despair

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Chapter IV - Flight for Freedom

"Our guest is no longer with us, his propsal was an insult to the greatness of The Walker in Darkness. The arrogance of his master will not be forgiven or forgotten, let this set example to any who doubt the unstoppable power of The Master."

Whisper spoke with a strong authority, though the voice he spoke with was certainly not his. He had in all ways become The Prince of the Ninth Obelisk, his voice and appearace were mirror images. His clothes were spattered with blood as was his throne room, though his servants had started cleaning the white marble. From the ceiling hung the trophy of his plot, a torseo of a man, no limbs or head to speak of. Blood dripped slowly down from the stumps that remained, no sign of missing limbs but the blood that gathered at the edges of his mouth. Though Whisper did his best not to show it, he had suffered his share of injuries fromt he battle with the other deathknight, though clearly the winner the pain that echoed through his chest with every breath was not going away anytime soon.

The group of ancient ghosts that had sat within the semi-circle with The Prince upon Whisper's arrival had now returned, some of them looked anxiously at the body that hung from the ceiling, other looked to the rotting flesh with hunger in their eyes. The trophy of his victory had served its purpose, even the most perceptive of The Prince's servants would see no physical difference between the real and the imposter, however he could not afford to have all of their attention gathered upon him. It would take time for him to gather all the knowledge that a deathknight prince such as the man he'd killed would know, he did not have much time as he knew a far greater oppounent would be arriving on the following day. He sighed as one of the drones groaned on about the insult of sending a propsal to The Walker in Darkness for what to do with his own army. He was in no mood to hear the rabblings of a ghost who had clung to life like some pathetic child to a favorite toy, if this is what he would find in the court of The Walker then perhaps he could make his stay here a long one. If only he could get by tomorrow, though would he be any safer under the guise of a rival deathknight than he was as a rogue? Perhaps.


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