"Ah, ah, listen!" The voice said, having noticed the exchange. "If you don't, people will die."
A village exploded a short distance away. He'd been at the front of the reinforcement charge, when he'd seen that Beam and Lombard were having trouble with Gorm. He'd worked himself up bravely. Normally a mild-mannered man, he'd done more than his fair share in the battle that they'd fought. The blood on his clothes was evidence of that.
And now, his body was nothing more than a pile of reddened pulp.
One moment, he had been standing anxiously with the rest of them, his fingers nervously gripping his axe, as he looked off into the distance, trying to find the source of that voice. And then in the next, he'd felt a light pressure in his stomach, as though he'd needed to burp. That feeling had magnified, until he was sure he needed to be sick. Explore hidden tales at mvl
And then it had continued, as his eyes bulged from his skull, and the pressure in his head increased so much that he lost consciousness. And then his entire body exploded with it.
Those around him stared in shock, but none of them started to squeal or throw a fit of terror. A greater terror prevented them from doing such a thing. It was as though there were invisible fingers around their necks, holding them in place, like collars on cattle.
"Gooooooooooood," the voice said firmly, once silence had returned. "I thought one of you might have protested that, being the naughty boys that you are. Verryyyy clever. Cleverness is likeable, it is. Highly likeable. Far better than prettiness.
I cannot abide by a pretty woman with a hollow head."
The man rambled, and his voice only grew louder in their ear. At first, it was as though he had been standing next to them, but now, he'd somehow managed to get closer, until his lips were right against the lobe, and they could hear his breath with every line that he spewed.
There were movements in the flames, off towards the east, that accented the movement of the voice. Those great big pillars of black – taller than even the tallest of trees – rippled, and a gate formed through it, as though someone had opened the portcullis of a castle. In stepped through a figure, clutching a staff.
"Despair. Despair. Despair. Despair. Despair. Despair.
Despair. Despair. Despair. Despair. Despair. Despair.
Despair. Despair. Despair. Despair. Despair. Despair.
Despair. Despair."
The same word over and over, in an almost boring cacophony of noise.
"Who am I...?" The voice said, as if responding to the question. "Well, that's true... I suppose I had better introduce myself, though I really wish you hadn't asked."
Even as he continued to talk, he drew slow steps closer and closer to the village. Well, it was less 'he' and more 'they'. They all moved in perfect symmetry with one another, coming closer at the same rate, like the city walls themselves were closing in on them.
"I am... A rare breed, that is what I am," the mage said.
"I'm he who gets up early, and works until late. In short, I am not a man much different to you, at least in the surface sense.... But deeper down, I'm clearly, you know, far better. That's obvious, right? Right? I don't need to point that out.
I mean, look at yourselves. You're rats caught in a giant trap."