Praxos WRITES

[Praxos]

I'll just go ahead and dump some stuff here.

[lepraxos]

Rather than making another thread, i'll just post this here.))



Lovely reader, be assured that your gold is well spent today. What you read here may one day preserve your life, and your sanity. No one has seen the Terror of Tirisfal, Shadow's Chill and lived to tell of it. Until now.

The sun was setting, a bloody stain against the sky, silhouetting the charred ribcage of Silverpine Forest. He slithered from the shadows, his body slick with gore and crawling with vermin that no mortal man could have tolerated. His shadow stretched out before him on the ground, and it revealed his true nature - a horned thing warped by heresy. A shape too terrible to put into words, my gentle readers. A sorcerer from the Shadows, without question. I could hear the moans of the dying peasants he left in his wake, but he did not even pause to acknowledge their plight, for his heart is colder than the tallest peaks of Icecrown, blacker than the deepest dungeons of the Underworld.
Instead, he let out a gutteral howl of victory, the shock of which snuffed out the life of those poor dying villagers, and then he bounded away, moving from tree to tree back toward the forest's main road. And this was where I thought this chapter would end until I heard the music. The wretched metal beat of a drum. Soldiers of Lordaeron echoed from tree to tree, and I knew there would soon be a fight. With only my sense of duty to the fallen citizens of Lordaeron to keep my fear from overtaking me, I inched closer for a better vantage.

Praxos fell from above, moving through the air as easily as a gargoyle, I swear it upon my spirit. Without sound, he glided down among them, and the music maker was the first to die as a shadowy hand tore the man's head from his shoulders. The wretched song faded in a discordant wail. The last soldier, no doubt consumed with terror at seeing his brothers fall so easily, sank to his knees and begged for mercy. Praxos spoke a single word that made my entrails squirm in my belly upon hearing it. The footman shrieked like a madman until his helm split in two, as though struck by some hammer and chisel, and a stream of blood gushed forth from the crack, bathing the monster's boots.

I closed my eyes at that point, too overwhelmed to witness any further atrocity. I could only hope that if that foul heretic discovered me next, my life would end swiftly. But when I opened my eyes, he was nowhere to be seen. That was the last I ever saw of Shadow's Chill.

So, heed my warning gentle reader. Should you or anyone you love witness some misshapen shadow fall across your path, or should you hear the slightest rumor of dark words whispered from the trees, then flee. Flee with all haste.