It was a dark, windy and snowy night. A cacophony of rusty armors, horses galloping, human steps, and bloodied weapons filled the cold air. A small pack of men rushed through the snow, preceded by two riders mounted in black horses. The group advanced as fast as they could, running as if they were trying to escape some underworld demon. The men in the rear guard glanced back nervously every once in a while, expecting to see their death approaching. All of them wore crimson pants, and some of them wore an old chainmail, or worn leather doublets. Some of them carried helmets with a red sign, and those who didn’t, bear a tattoo across their face showing the same sign. It was a tribe, a tribe of warriors. Finally, they stopped next to a solid and rugged stone wall. It wasn’t a tall one, you would miss it if you weren’t looking for it. Even more undetectable was the small indent on the lower side of the wall. The company quickly moved out off the path and into the road that drove them into the cave. They dismounted and approached to the wall, where they quickly encountered they first problem. The cave wasn’t tall enough for the horses to fit in.

-We can’t leave the horses here, they will die, or worse, get stolen by some bandit- Said one of the riders.

-Then what would you have us do Hathir?- Asked the second one, with a voice full of hatred and sarcasm. -Stay in here with the stupid animals and freeze to death?, they have fur, they can go through the night. Can’t say the same about us if we decide to stay here...

The first one turned back and shouted to the group of warriors following them -Listen you scum, we’ll spent the night here. Karyos, Rumber, Taaliz, you will stay out here and watch for the horses- The three chosen began to protest but the rider silenced them with a gesture.

-You can spend the night watching the horses, or spend the night looking around the field for any undesired company we might have, it’s up to you, but I swear, if the horses are not here in the morning, We will continue our march without your heads, are we clear?-

The red soldiers exchanged awkward looks and, after a while, assented. The two riders dismounted and the rest of the tribe entered the cave along with their leaders, while the three sentinels worked out a way to tie the horses for the night. The entrance to the cave was small, and it only allowed the men to enter one by one. Once inside, the darkness was so thick everyone had to talk with their hands in front of their body to avoid crashing with the walls. Finally, once they were inside, the soldiers began to unpack their belongings and spread themselves around the cave. The few supplies they carried with them were distributed and a couple weak fires were built all over the place. Once illuminated, the cave looked a little less threatening, but not enough to make it comfortable. However, no one could care less about the aspect of the cave. It was a cold night, and the cave served to it’s purpose: to protect them from the wind. Meanwhile, both the men who rode the horses before installed themselves at the end of the cave. After placing their belongings on the ground both of them sat down, and took a moment to rest from the hard journey they had just went through.

They were a strange couple. Both of them were tall, with a sharp face and slanted eyes. They wore black robes, black riding breeches and black doublets. One of them, the one called Hathir, had short, black hair, and a grim look on his face. He had a scar in his left cheek, which only contributed to make him look more evil. His partner was called Valen. He was tall, with black long hair, a sharp face and slanted eyes as well. He was a cruel man, who enjoyed suffering and pain, and found even more pleasure when provoking it. They were fighters, you could see that easily. They both wore good armors, and their weapons where made out of fine steel. Finally, after remanning in silence for a while, Valen asked:

-So, any news from Liz Hãraath? Are the packs satisfied? Or will there be war?

-I don’t know- Valen answered. -Tarzin has been delaying the advance of the army for a while now. It is true that we are not enough to try and attack Daisnate, but after the paladins last victory on the sanctuary, we could easily raid small towns, where there are no warriors to face us, or even outer cities. I bet these brutes can take on a small garrison by themselves.-

As he said that, he took a look at the group that followed them. They were all immense men, and showed no sign of cleverness. They belonged to one of the many tribes located in the north, and were all consummated warriors. The tribes in the north were known for their ferocity, for their love of combat, and for following leaders who promised great battles and huge blood spilling. The warriors from the tribe were known as bone reavers, and the origin of that name was easily understood once you learnt which was their favorite food.

-Anyways- Said the other rider, the one named Hathir -I bet Tarzin is just waiting for a “sign of the gods” or whatever bullshit he likes to look for in the fire. Eventually, he’ll give the order and finally each pack will advance, and, with a little luck, we will burn a few cities all by ourselves. I just hope Lintïr is not too...

Before he could finish what he was saying, a gust of windy ice went inside of the cave and put the fires out. Along with these, the horses on the outside squealed in fear, and a sound, like a human cry, came with it. The cave went completely dark and the only sound was that of the soldiers trying to reach their weapons. While Valen stood up and unsheathed his sword, Hathir reached for a bag from which he pulled out a round orb. After pulling it out and putting it on his palm for a couple of minutes, the orb scintillated and casted a green light. It was not a shiny, pure green, as the one you can see on live grass. but a corrupted color. It was like the color of a dirty, sick pond, which still managed to illuminate the whole cave, showing a vomitive, gruesome vision. The cave was covered in blood, it looked as if someone had threw buckets of red paint all over the cave walls, painting a savage, cannibalistic portrait. Human body parts filled the cave, and, after walking closer to an arm, they discovered, with great disgust and apprehension, that someone, or something, had chewed on it. This was something they had not seen before, not even in the sickest battle, ritual or celebration. They kept looking around the cave, founding various scenes full of violence. Crushed heads, half cut limbs and some bones which had been broken to suck out the marrow. Suddenly, they heard a few steps coming from the entrance of the cave. A man stood there. It was tall, had long, gray hair, and was pale, as if he was sick. He looked more dead than alive, and then, he raised his face, and stared at them. He had a cadaverous face, and it looked as if some wild animal had tried to rip the flesh off. He was missing a cheek, his nose, and you could see his whole mouth. Then, he smiled, his jaw drop open, and he spoke:

-Fear oh men, for the time of blood is here.- His voice filled the cave, calmed as a whisper, but full of pleasure and some kind of cruel satisfaction. -Our god Naasher is here, and every crime, sin and despair is comes with him! Your castles will fall, your armies will fall. Your holy places and everything you worship will burn. The banners will break, the bones will pile, and the hearts will shrink in fear. Everything you know and love, will be consumed by the grip of death. For the we do not forgive, we do not await, and now, the time for blood is here. Our time has finally come, and we will banish the living and their pitiful gods from this place. Naasher while rule this land, and those who follow him will feast on your flesh, while your temples are taken down and the profanation of your earth begins- As he talked, something walked behind him. A strange animal advanced until it was by his side. It had the body of a tiger, but the head was something different, more like a lizard. The color seemed to be a sickly gray. With a screech from the tall creature, the shapeless animal advanced. Both Valen and Hathir raised their swords, even tough they know it was useless. If that creature could handle twenty blood reavers by itself, they were no match for it. The orb fell to the ground. It was not a quick death, but a slow, painful one, just as Naasher would have wanted it to be. Profanity has arrived to this land.