As the last band approaches the wastes they are set upon by Vore, hideous conjoined heads wailing in self-anguish and hunger. They are constantly hungry, their stomachs joined directly to the anus which excretes without digestion. Satiation is forever temporary, any Vore you meet strong beyond belief for surviving the raw hunger of its pack. They are voracious and stupid, strength driven by need without thought of survival. Darius and Mikkelson fall, savaged by instant biology. Six remain to enter the daemon's lair.
"We must rest Van Sen, to go further in this state will be to die."
"How many do you think smell our weakness already. Surprise is our only hope here.
Fast we must move, the price ... we have already paid before setting out.
There will be no second chance."
So the legendary warrior Van Sen and his paltry group strode quickly into the land of insanity.
A squeal and a yaw, the madness of the four-eyed birds descended. Vicious iron-tipped beaks scouring at the flesh, the overwhelming human noises that uttered from defeated dismay. Long did they feast on Stallos, bastard heir to the fallen god Vorpos.
Five men more dead than alive trudge on.
They fight now on instinct, their wounds severe as each lazy swing brings death, whose they care not.
Reinos head is stolen by the lizard-man Doolis, another trophy for the all-seeing tree to which he prays in unending gore.
Beyond words, beyond life or death, the attacks cease. There is nowhere left to go. The End-World beckons.
Bone is the pole barring the gate, skulls to defeat the size of a great arimidian shield.
Saloth shatters it and the gates beyond with a single blow. Dorugoth screams within his skull, the God of Fate sees all but cannot avoid what his frail host has now seen. The gate was barred from without. Anglasar is not loose. How?
Van Sen is ten paces beyond them.
"Ho brother, how can this be?"
Van Sen considers, his words wrenched from a closed throat.
"Heed me. When I told the elders of the seven nations the Beast was free, they laughed.
My word, the actions of my life as nothing to these indolent wretches."
"We heeded your call!"
"Two dozen men! The greatest of our time and we four stand here, alone."
"You are mad!," cried Teneus,"my brother has died for nothing."
"That is wrong Teneus. He died for heroism."
So saying the last Scion of Van Rao shattered the wards of a thousand dead sorcerors set to prevent the Beast Anglasar's return to the world.
"What have you done?"
"We need more heroes in the world. Now there will need be many."