The Worldslayer Chronicle

A magpie for every occasion


One for Sorrow…

Years ago, deep below the surface of the earth.

The tunnel was quiet now… the muted screams and terrible scratching sounds had finally stopped. A small mercy, but a mercy nonetheless. How had it happened, how could it have happened? The construction was sound, the supports stable, there had been no signs of geological instability, no flaws in the stone… and yet, now tonnes of rock and rubble was all that remained of what should have been his legacy. Rubble… and what lay trapped and crushed beneath it.

What certainty could there be in a world where such things could happen? Where solid stone and rock would turn on you and drown you like the waves of the treacherous sea?

The only other possible explanation was even more impossible, and more horrifying still… but it couldn’t be… the plans had been perfect… hadn’t they?

High above the stricken mine, in a dying, gnarled tree barely clinging to the famished soil, a single magpie let out a mocking cry…

Two for Mirth…

A few months ago, somewhere on the road.

It was amazing, unfathomable, intoxicating. The power was boiling in his veins, roaring in his ears with a force that would put the mightiest earthquake to shame and seething between his fingertips as if he had grasped the sun itself in his hands.

Inside his head, images exploded in an endless flood of nonsensical glory, momentarily forcing him to his knees.

Through sheer force of will he shrugged it off, however, shutting out the maddening torrent to focus his mind solely on the very pulse of the earth and stone beneath his feet. Power… impossible power pouring into every fragile fragment of his soul.

The twilight dusk surrounding him took on a strange, greenish hue as his eyes left flesh and blood behind for emerald perfection. It was overwhelming, it was overpowering… it was wonderful!

He finally did the only thing he could do in the moment. He threw back his head and laughed loud enough to stir the two black-feathered birds sleeping in a nearby bush, sending the spiralling towards the heavens with indignant cries…

Three for a Wedding…

Last week, in Absalom

It certainly wasn’t the largest wedding in Absalom had seen, but it might very well have been a strong contender for the strangest. A union of stone wishing to be flesh to flesh wishing to be stone. The full majesty of Elemental Earth arrayed to bear witness to the fated union between their beloved princess and her unlikely groom.

And outside, peering through a nearly imperceptible crack in the stolid walls, three dishevelled birds snickered and crowed in a sinister fashion amongst themselves, eagerly awaiting the inevitable arrival of their fellow…


Jakob Melkhor

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