Authors: A.J. Smith
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SECOND CHRONICLE OF THE LONG WAR
THE DARK BLOOD
The Forest Giant sat alone in his black and green halls beyond the world. His Dark Young were all dead or torpid, his Dokkalfar had betrayed him and the rampaging Ice Giant was near.
His hall, built over the nameless ages of deep time, was decaying and rotten as his power was slowly raped from him by the Fire Giant.
The Long War had claimed more Gods and Giants than trees in his hall, and he knew his time was near.
The One had found him, Rowanoco would fight him, and Jaa would take his power, leaving him as nothing more than the memory of a once great God, a story to pass down through the coming ages of pleasure and blood.
When the end came, it was swift. Jaa had left him little with which to fight Rowanoco and the outcome was not in doubt. The God was laid low by the mighty swing of a mighty hammer and prepared for the void into which Gods disappear.
He sank into slumber.
But something happened. The God felt his power buckle and crack, but it did not break. The treacherous Fire Giant had stolen his power but not destroyed it. It was a thread of existence, but it was enough.
As strange beings called men appeared and spread across the lands, Shub-Nillurath smiled.
The assassin skulked at the back of the tavern. It was a low-rent affair, nestled against the southern wall of Ro Tiris and catering for people who had been thrown out of most other places. He
fit in, even if he wished that he didn’t, and no one had questioned his presence or doubted that he belonged.