Lord of Storm

Chapter 1

Winter

Winter laid his huge hands on her slender shoulders and she felt the warmth of his strong body. He brushed a dark curl from her face and looked into the blue pools of her eyes, then touched her graceful neck with his lips, again and again. The frenzy and doom in his movements filled her heart with sweet sadness. In the brief intervals between kisses, he could only whisper 'I love you'.

The night of happiness and sorrow had come. "Winter and Desire by Ludbava the Sensual"

-- //--

Winter is here. It came, as always, unexpectedly. The Mechanism in the far northern lands was working again.

The largest, the Dragonfather class airship, Lord of Storm, floated majestically amidst the white clouds and blue sky. Its upper part was an elongated balloon, and its lower part was an inverted pyramid with many platforms and creatures scurrying about on them. At the front of the ship was a huge bearded figurehead. Smaller skyships circled nearby. Most were spheres with a platform sunk into them and a large mast to which the sail was attached.

"Lord of Storm" is the culmination of the post-Break creativity of humans, Divi people, Chudi, altered Dvergrs, Alfars, winter fairies and trolls.

A mighty gust of wind and snow burst from the figurehead's open mouth. Now the sculptors' concepts of flowing hair, plump cheeks and tubular lips made sense. A new storm had been unleashed upon the world.

It flew over the twisted lands, snowing and testing everything for stability. The giant at the distant mountains watched it with interest. The tempest was young and full of energy.

Plants cowered in fear, trying to hold their pods or branches close. The winged, furry, fanged, clawed, eared and slimy alms were also worried. The storm caught one of them in mid-jump, scooped it up and carried it across the sky. The winter will make survival even harder for everyone. Only the megashrooms let the storm pass between them calmly, only increasing their caps at the expense of snow.

Here on the plateau near a pyramid city, armies are fighting fiercely with broken magic. A flabby, striped monster rises like a mountain among the combatants. The whirlwinds of heaven have not disrupted the parties' plans to destroy each other. Only at the top of the city, two people, displeased with the storm, hurry to take shelter in the pre-upper area.

Here is a tent camp next to the battlefield. The dressed in black people in it run under the accusing index finger of a man with a fire-head. The storm has managed to lift some of the black tents from the ground, giving them a fleeting freedom. Beneath the swirling cloths, one of the men wearing a circlet with three prongs somehow exchanges glances through the black cloth on his face with a sombre girl standing beside him.

Here is a group of wanderers has stopped to watch the omen of change in the sky. A woman looks up grimly, her tattered and cut clothes flapping in the wind, her braid off her shoulder. Other people hurry to protect her from the weather. Their eyes are full of concern.

Here is an ancient city, built of white stone and massive blocks of earth. Its walls had withstood the storm, but for whom? Inside, there is devastation, ruins and a few passers-by pressed against the walls. People in familiar (for storms, living hours, is an unfamiliar word) black clothes are clearing away the rubble.

Near the city, a sharp-faced demoness gazes at the celestial body and its arcs, taking in the scents of the world with deep breaths. She gazes at the storm with delight, anticipating the same great sight, until the storm hits her with its winds and cold.

Here is a group of people at the split hill preparing to meet a group of peg riders. Snowflakes swirl among the dark silhouettes. One of the pegmen raises his single eye to the sky, watching the storm pass. It's weakened enough, but still full of determination and movement.