(reservado por Adeptus Hispanus)
Skurrik grinned in horrible satisfaction as the last of the silver warriors vanished into the stream.His own agents had found the gate to Athelwyrd before those of Vermalanx. The Grey Seer took a tiny clay urn from his robes and smashed it with the hilt of his dagger. A swarm of fat-bodied flies spiralled out, growing larger by the second.
‘Storm-things pass into the river,’ chittered Skurrik. ‘It... it is the portal!’
The Glottkin coalesced from the swarm, hideous and proud. ‘That does make a kind of sense,’ said the warlord known as Otto, brushing flies from his open gut. ‘Ethrac, oh second-favourite sibling. This river is too pure by half. Summon Grandfather’s Deluge so we can flood this place for good.’
‘A meritorious idea, brother of my mother’s womb,’ said the sorcerer, stoking his brazier. ‘Gates can be forced open as well as unlocked.’
‘Oh yes! Ghurk, give the signal. Loud as you like, my lad. We’re going in.’
Skurrik covered his ears as Otto’s monstrous brother threw back his misshapen head and bellowed at deafening volume. In the middle distance, war horns answered by the score.
Fuentes[]
- The Quest for Ghal Maraz.