Through misty fens up to the high walls of Caulder’s keep, here cometh the painted man of darkest silence creep. Skull face bone white on black skin. Muscles flex rage and poise. A sword hardened by starfire dully glittering in the gaze of the moon. Into wetland uncharted legions go. Only echoes return. Flashing in the storm we see his face for a mere moment. A glimmering maw salivating. A laugh rolling in the thunder.
Paddy Dobson
5th May 2021