Les Chroniques de Darkadia
- LECTURES 45
- Votes 3
- Chapitres 2
Contenu pour adultesEn cours d'écriture12m
Dernière publication mer., févr. 19, 2020
Dans un univers de Dark fantaisy, notre armée, les survivants se défendent contre les armées sanglantes composées de vampires et de démons asservis depuis maintenant des décennies. Notre camp n'a fait que reculer devant les forces démoniaques dirigée par une matriarche faisant trembler même les plus valeureux guerriers... Nous ne sommes plus qu'un millier, réfugiés dans une forteresse dite imprenable... Cependant la première porte a succombé aux assauts incessants des ennemis, les douves ont été remplis par leur cadavres... Le ciel est recouvert par les cendres des feux ennemis... Ils sont sûrement des milliers dehors... Nous manquons de vivres et l'assaut ennemi est lancé.
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Show me a man yet unrocked, unscathed, unblemished by hunger. Point him out to me and say: "He's the one. He's never felt hunger in his entire life." And I'll point out the same man as the hungriest man of all. In a race against the bell both Othy and Torolf prepare for their respective tasks at hand. Both are relatively new to their lives as mercs, yet they hunger. But hunger comes in many forms. Where one hungers for food, another may hunger for love, affiliation, or a sense of respect. Hunger, in its most rudimentary sense, is a feeling of loss or lack of something one yearns for or needs. Even if what Othy or Torolf hungers for may differ, their struggles to settle it may coincide. Maybe even more than they would ever give it credit for. And while they're both struggling for appeasement Dioge struggles on his own, miles away from anyone other than members of his own flock.
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