Toggle Background Color
A Splinter in the Dark
For an eternity it has been drifting. This place... Full of life, full of light. It hates this place. Shapeless, mindless, it drifts. It remembers when it was part of a whole. It was so much more. It remembers Yarbog, the Enemy. It fought - and fought - and lost. Then it was forced into the darkness. Trapped. Humiliated. It struck at the boundaries with rage, all consciousness bent on escape--to no avail. Then cracks started to appear. Yarbog's power was waning. This one slipped through the cracks, a fragment - a speck of evaporated essence - disconnected from the whole. Then it drifted - and forgot--until now.
Down below, creatures of claw and teeth and shadow fight the loathsome land dwellers. The blood, the pain, the chaos. They beckon. It is... intoxicating. As it spirals toward the battlefield, it awakens. It remembers. It is one with these creatures, and they are one with the Void. They are Voden. From the chaos of battle, it feeds. And as the land dwellers die, it grows stronger. Shapeless it is no more. Now it has eyes. And fins. And claws. And purpose. To kill. To feed the Void. To be made whole again. With an ecstatic scream, it charges into the battlefield.