Old Oak

The rain in Swathmoore Swamp is colder than normal, the skies dark and foreboding. My Nephilim wings do not lift me from the ground as easily as they once did. I feel old… older than I should, as I drag myself, wounded and tired, back to Old Oak. The massive city is my home, my sanctuary, and it is only there that I feel truly safe. Even with the constant raids from Vicious Cycle and The Plague, I can only find comfort there. The towering city walls come into view in the distance and I feel more energized suddenly. My wings push hard against the winds and lift me into the sky.

The Gold Mountain

 

            Everything was frozen, like a picture, hanging in front of him as though he was watching from the outside.  The truck was only a few feet from his door, waiting to feed on him, with smoke from his tires melting on the pavement, suspended between them only inches off the road.

Exile

Twisted red-gray skies swirled overhead at unnatural speeds, blocking the light of day from those on Chaos Isle. It was a land of eternal darkness where hate and filth dominated, and the light of the pure was often overpowered by the shadows of the corrupt. Nothing grew there, nothing survived for long. Even the fiends and monsters now native to this horrid realm found their lives cut short by the brutality of the dead lands. Few would argue that there was a more inhospitable place in all the world.