With the Arrival of High King Galen and his appointed elite followers of the Order of the Moderatori, the realms throughout Congregus were shielded from anger, abuse, intolerance, and racism. For decades, the realms had entered a state of relative peace; from the Kingdom of Abyssian, to the Duchy of Zaxis, and even the unknown wilds of ? ? ? ? ? .
The faithful Moderatori helped in the founding of these regions, and constantly protected their lands from any sort of enemy intrusion. With the banishment of such treacherous magic, like haxorcery and even the conjuration of bots, many of the foul creatures that once plagued the realm of Kongregate were not seen again. Now, the Moderatori watched over their regions and were well respected by peers and visitors alike.
However, in the years to come, and with several of the Moderatori gone and replaced, strange and violent incursions were rumored to be festering in the realms. Though many of the Moderatori trained their successors and led their lands through their shining examples, not many of the newer members understood the horrors the older Moderatori had faced when confronting the Horde; brutal trolls, sinister haxorcerists, the lurker spies, near humanoid bots and the overwhelming masses of newbish forces.
Corruption has spread in Kongregate, and the first moves are being made.
If there was one thing that was beneficial about the snow, it was the fact that he’d become so numb he couldn’t feel his wounds. He barely realized he was shivering so violently he’d bitten his tongue hard enough to draw blood.
For over a week he’d traveled. His injuries had grown steadily worse. He’d reopened some of the gashes causing him to become weaker and less alert. His twisted ankle limited mobility. The broken arm wouldn’t allow him to fight back as effectively. The cracked rib hampered breathing.
The horse had collapsed a few hours back and he wasn’t sure it would be getting back up. So on he traveled, through the snow, towards the place he thought would be his sanctuary.
Sanctuary. If only for a short time before they found him.
So long as he could warn them, he didn’t care what happened to himself.
He never fully realized that at some point his leg had given out and he’d collapsed into the snow. It was a funny feeling; like a blanket of numbing bliss on a feathered mattress of clouds. Through the haze of the snowstorm, he could just make out a light. His rebelling body just would not drag him to it.
It was far enough that he found himself choking back a sob of despair before he was able to pull his thoughts under control.
Just a few moments of rest…and it’d be alright…
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