It was a long day of travel. Yet the day was not over. Not even close. The day of horror had arrived. The Lord of Shadows had foreseen this day, but to imagine it could come. A shudder runs through everyone.
The Shadow men grouped together, and gathered their breath. One final sigh was drawn from every man. And then. Rampage.
The Shadow men were battered by the river on their way to the altar of ruin. The storm that followed was heard from the farthest reaches of the hearth. The sounds of sword clashing mimicked that of the melodies of sirens. The thuds as the bodies hit the earth were mistaken for that of war drums. As the fighting went on, the allure of the song, and the glory of death in battle empowered the shadow-warriors.
The storm beat on, the evil fiends who had created the altar of ruin were on the ground, bleeding bile and hate. The shadow-warriors set onto the altar, when a vile trap was sprung. The fiends were prepared to die. They merely wanted all to die.
Hounds of war erupted from the earth, the ground shaking and crumbling. The altar standing. Blood fills the air. But a lone hero with a spruce-cap hid expertly in the depths of the altar and dismantled the evil runes buried within.
The altar has been destroyed. Evil has been vanquished. The world has been saved. The Lord of Shadows has delivered abundance and kindness towards all the kin of the hearth, and justice and righteousness to those who oppose it.
The Lord of Shadows has saved the hearth.
![¦]](./images/smilies/troll.gif "Trollface")
