Far, far to the south, where east and west meet and become north, there is a valley, carven not by the slow slide of the world's rocky skin over her firey heart, but rather the wind and water have carven it, deep and narrow, folding away from the sun. Here, at its deepest depths, the Light never reaches. Here, at the top of the bottom of the world, lies the place which Shadow and Darkness have dedicated to themselves.
Freetext Friday "Shadow"
"Have mercy? Dear, foolish, man, the Mistress’s mercy is the only gift I have to give."
The mark of Kronath’s ultimate favor, the Cloak of Dusk is held by her Hunter, her chosen avatar to hunt the living dead, and return them to her embrace.
A simple flag, faded by time and sun, tattered and worn by untold years flying from the pole of a bannerman, passing hands from officer to officer, from one generation to another. It is a humble symbol of great importance, and greater inspiration to those who see it. Soldiers become heros filled with espirit de corps, enemies loose their nerve and fire. It is not an enchanted item, but a powerful item still...