The storm rages on...
The storm raged on...
Jasper Trenton looked at his wife, Alice, with tired eyes. Together, he as a priest of the Storm Lord, and she, as Mahana's priestess, had served the small community of Elam's Cleft for ten years. They had delivered babies, cured the sick when they could, and buried the dead in the old cemetary behind the shrine.
But now, at the oaken table of their small house beside the dual shrine, both of them were tired and worried. This storm was not the work of Vanar, that was sure, and both of them knew that it carried evil upon it. They were not the most powerful of clerics, but power had never been their main concern.
He reached out, and grasped her hand. "Perhaps the storm will pass come morning, love."
She smiled, and nodded, then her eyes widened. "Outside!" Jasper blinked seeing a green radiance reflected in her gaze, then turned toward the door of their small house, just as it smashed inward, reflecting a dark figure, a massive axe held in dark armored gauntlets.
Standing, hearing his wife behind him beginning a prayer for aid to Mahana, Jasper picked up his war hammer, and moved to meet the axewielder, a prayer of his own to the Lord of Storms upon his lips.
The prayer was never finished, as the axe split him from crown to navel. A harsh, grating chuckle was heard, as the creatures glowing green eyes moved to Alice, and it stepped forward, axe raised.