The number, at this moment, stood at nine hundred and ninety nine.
THE Creature walked through the deep places of THE Ghor-Vazhal, and the deep places were veins. Tunnels of pulsing obsidian ran down and down, their walls contracting in a slow rhythm, warm underfoot, wet along their seams, and through their channels rivers of blood flowed thick and unhurried, all of it moving in one direction. He followed the direction as he knew who it would lead to!
Behind him, only corpses remained as a fiendish aura wrapped around his entire figure.
Ten minutes of the hour remained to him, and he did not hurry either.
The blood was not his. Very little of the last hour's blood had been his!
