…Like a sponge, the ship soaks up the sea, hundreds of holes where she has cracked and splintered now spew salty water over our fresh wounds from the oar master’s whip. He has abandoned this sinking barge with the rest of the crew, leaving us here chained to these accursed oars. The others, constrained to the same hell as I, mewl, moan and cry…women all. I know I will not die here. Crom has not called for me…yet. So I offer not a prayer, for I know Crom has little to do with the affairs of men, but a promise…
I shall paint hyboria red with blood, a picture of carnage and obliteration that will adorn the heavens. The lamentation for the dead shall resound in your halls for a hundred years. My glory shall be yours, a testament to all the gods that Crom rules the strongest of all men. I shall be your mortal hand carving your will through the kingdoms of hyboria. All men and demons and beasts shall know the name Adrastus and abandon faith. All gods will know my name and brood over my destruction. And when they fail they shall offer tribute to my lord, Crom. This I promise.
…..to be continued.
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