Role

Chapter 2

Slap.... slap... slap...

The hands covered in the crimson liquid slapped against the corded muscles
of the dark-skinned minotaur in sync with the rhythmic chanting of the chained
fire giant slaves. Ogahn glared down at them with a mix of contempt and
wonder. He saw those who continued to suffer and refuse to break their chains
as weak, but these slaves did so willingly. Perhaps they were not slaves, so
much as supplicants, dedicants, unwavering adherents to their faith. The turn
of events that led him to this grove of bonfires worked its way through his
thoughts.

He had just crossed the Wastes of Nonviel when he spotted a large fire in a
glade, the flames dancing through the branches, casting flickering shadows
across the forest. He slowed down and crept towards the fire, surely there
were merchants or something of the sort with a large meal on the fire. A
quick and easy slaughter for him, and he'd have a hot meal. As he came to the
edge of the glade and started to formulate a plan of attack, he noticed a
figure in crimson robes and no one else. This was too easy, he though to
himself. He stepped menacingly into the glade and locked eyes with the robed
figure across the roaring fire.

"What brings you to Her, Destroyer?" A woman's voice was inside his head and
the black eyes of his quarry flared and danced with flames. He was ensnared
and walked slowly towards her, falling to his knees just before reaching the
fire. The woman walked delicately around the bonfire and to Ogahn's side. She
leaned in, and a whisper escaped her blood red lips. "She has been waiting
for you..."