Darkstrome:
You travel for many days, always seeming to catch the frigid arctic winds in your face. Or is it that the winds blow in every direction? You are not sure. You press on, neutral to the feelings that you might be leaving Sagen far behind. You press foreward, a feeling of dread invading your thoughts.
Many days pass by as you endlessly wander.
Abruptly you nearly walk off the precipice of a glacier. The drop decends hundreds of feet into the earth, which looks as though it had been shattered forcefully from within, by some unequaled power.
Deep down, you see molten lava forming from the exposed magma gushing forth from the earth. Upon cooled islands of lava, you see a sight which chills you.
Upon alters of solid carved ruby, you see the blood of innocent families flow, as they are continuously sacrificed to a being who stands proudly amidst his new army of followers. As the last plea for mercy is extinguished, Goroth laughs darkly to himself and grins.
"My servants, I grant you the power of the DarkStrome." With that, Goroth throws out his arms wide, his eyes flashing like two dark, radiant stars.
You witness a visible change in those who used to be called Leviathan; now the unholy battallian of Goroth.
As you gaze on in horror, one of the Darkstrome turn slowly and makes eye contact with you. You jolt from your sleep, stifling a scream.
