By  Primal · 1 minuteBack to stories

The sturdy wooden bars that stood between us and our captors had replaced the rage and resentment with hopelessness and submissiveness. They treated us like beasts, beat us, abused us, sold us. Yellow skin, stained red with blood, ragged cloths barely protecting us from blows, and the flies constantly hovering around our heads. We were four in number, weak against the army that stood guard.


There was hope. They had made a misstep. We could smell the liquid poison that infected their bodies. Take in that scent of power, of courage, of freedom. It was only a matter of time before the carelessly celebrating Ravens made one fatal error…


In an instant, a drunken Raven that had strayed too close to the cage was reduced to a pile of feathers and flesh. Blood slowly soaked into the ground, our skin, our mouths… We huddled around the corpse, absorbing the life from death. The taste of the poison, our fallen brothers, our hate for our captors, enveloped everything. The Ravens watched in shock, slow to react.

Too slow.

We drank the blood.

Fear shined in their eyes.

They knew.

We knew.

Tonight, we would feast.

Looking to contribute to the Stormbound lore?
Have your own story published.