Wicked Shore

PANEL:
The reader peers over the heads of vikings, riding through the rain on their fleet of ships.  Their eyes seem absent in the twilight and rain.

VO BOX

The monsters sail toward wicked shore

With iron skin and wooden oar

PANEL:
A silhouette of a viking standing on the rail of the ship, holding onto one of the many ropes that blow in the tempest winds.  The waves cut just as hard and deep as the rain.

VO BOX

The blackened waves boil at steadfast rate

While the monsters' lungs fill with animus and hate

PANEL:
Fists of vikings throw themselves into the view of the reader, all attention on the drummer calling for a show of bloodlust at the front of the ship.  He roars to the lightening.

VO BOX

They sing dead songs in fetid tongue

Hearts beat faster, warlords drum

PANEL:
The ship beats fast against the rising waves.

VO BOX

Wood cracks hard against the brine

Bloodthrist steers them, a straightened line

PANEL:
Within the view of the storm, on the horizon, rests an island.  On the beaches, small fires to signal a demise.

VO BOX

Clouds of red, lightening white

A distant isle, blind in night

PANEL:
From behind a speaker on a pedestal, the people of the island gather to him, some still scattered about.  They all seem to smile with drink in hand.  They're in the midst of a festival.

VO BOX

People gather on the sands

To hear the tales that made their land

PANEL:
In painterly tradition that shows we speak of a story and not in real-time, a black wolf with red eyes jumps out from the ocean.

VO BOX

A tale of creation, but also of an end

Of a beast that's born to tear and rend

PANEL:
A shot of the vikings' rusted armor.

VO BOX

A coat of blood,

PANEL:
A show of the vikings' ready swords.

VO BOX

and teeth of nails

PANEL:
A viking breathes mist in the frost air, showing his jagged teeth in his smile.

VO BOX

And breath of toxin,

PANEL:
A look at a ship of vikings, their eyes hidden in the shadows of the night, but beaming white through the darkness.

VO BOX

and eyes of gales

PANEL:
The speaker of the tales raises his arms as he speaks caution to the people at the festival.  Behind him, on the horizon, a rising fleet from far away.

VO BOX

The people listen drunkenly as preachers spew the lore

PANEL:
A closer look at the fleet that rushes towards the collapse of a civilization.  The boats burrow deep in the waves, gaining speed.

VO BOX

The tale of a beast that rides from Hell and wicked shore.

THE END