Intro to "The Favoured Lands" 1991

Death Peddlers

​Rain pelted continuously over the marshy hills. A lone man splashes out of the brier and into a shin deep puddle. He wears no protective gear, his lungs heaving with exertion.

The smell of fear emanates from him. He is coiled tight, like a trapped animal--deadly and unpredictable.

He senses he is being hunted and that his hunters are close, though he can neither hear nor see them through the ceaseless rain. He sprints over the hill top to an old rotted building at the bottom of the other side. 

As he reaches the building, a rotting shack, his blood is pulsing loudly in his ears. He takes one last look around--nothing. He leans in against the wall under the eaves and wipes the rain and sweat from his brow. As his hand moves over his face, he opens his eyes and is confronted by a black masked man staring him intently in the eye.

He springs forward, water splashing all around in his wake. Panicked he stumbles towards the back of the building just as another black form steps into his path. He skids to a halt just in front of the giant. 

Breathing heavily he could hear the other approaching from behind. A settles firmly on his shoulder and swings him around to stare into the masked form of his death.

He dives at the peddler, clawing with desperate ferocity, seeking to catch a hold of the rim of the peddler's mask. Another hand wrapped itself in his hair and ranked his head back, ripping him back with such strength that his neck popped back almost separating from his body. He had just enough time to see the thin metal cylinder flash amidst the rain drops before he felt it penetrate the thin clothe of his jacket, his skin, sternum, diaphragm, and heart.

He felt his body tighten and contort one last time and blackness engulfed.

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