"Seandainya di depan mataku ini ada tembok berwarna putih, lalu Muhammad mengatakan bahwa tembok itu berwarna hitam, maka aku akan bohongkan mataku, dan akan kukatakan bahwa tembok itu berwarna hitam!". (perkataan Abu Bakar radhiallahu anhu, dinukil dari ceramah sejarah Nabi, oleh Khalid Basalamah)

05 Maret 2010

The Undead Hordes

Somewhere near the beginning of time, Mortis, that name which now causes even the most stout-hearted to tremble, was the goddess of Life. She ruled the elder race with her husband, Gallean, and they were as one being, such was their devotion to each other. But Wotan, god of the Mountain Clans, coveted the glorious lands of Mortis and Gallean. Certain that only by severing the bond between Mortis and her consort would he be able to wrest control of the lands, Wotan transformed himself into a wolf and tore out the heart of Gallean. With godly might, he hurled the still-beating heart into the sun, that it would never be recovered. But Mortis, in her grief, followed the heart, and was consumed by fire…


In the arid lands south of the realm there existed a prosperous civilization of mystics called the Alkmaar. With a mere wave of her skeletal hand, Mortis unleashed the plague on these quiet and unsuspecting people. Within weeks, thousands lay dead and dying. Other cities rapidly followed. Just as there had once been no limit to Mortis’s ability to create new life, there was now no end to the savage ways she devised to inflict suffering and death on others – the very creatures she had once created. The goddess of life had found a new purpose…

Engrossed in her own world of hatred and misery, Mortis set about creating a hideous army; her warriors were the desolate dead, many of them victims of Mortis’s own wicked hand. There would be no afterlife for these wretched souls; they marched ever onwards, fulfilling the vengeful fantasies of their dark mistress. Her shambling soldiers decimated the terrified Mountain Clan warriors, and Wotan could only shrink back in horror…

When the High King Sturmir Thunderhammer lay dead on the field of battle, Mortis knew that she had avenged herself and her husband. She let loose her grip on the skeletal army that had served her so well, and exiled herself from the land of the living for many years. Love for Gallean still burned in Mortis’s foul heart, and she waited in solitude for the return of her husband.

For eons, the fleshless goddess wandered in torment through her own dark mind. Where was Gallean? She cried out his name, but she was answered only by her own distorted voice. At long last, Mortis found her way out of this maddening labyrinth. If Gallean would not come to her, it was because he could not come to her.

To revive Gallean, divine blood was required. And when the spirits revealed the existence of a holy child, Mortis swore that, if need be, an ocean of blood would be spilled to reunite her with her beloved…

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