#omadon

I... am the world... and the world... is Omadon...!

Ιταλία-Ολλανδία, Κροατία-Γαλλία και η μάχη της Εθνικής Ομάδας κόντρα στο Κόσοβο με πολλές στοιχηματικές επιλογές στα πρακτορεία ΟΠΑΠ Το Nations League συνεχίζεται σήμερα με τα παιχνίδια της τέταρτης αγωνιστικής των ομίλων. Στις 21:45, στο ΟΑΚΑ, η Εθνική Ομάδα υποδέχεται το Κόσοβο με στόχο μία ακόμα νίκη. Ισοβαθμεί με 7 βαθμούς στην πρώτη θέση του ομίλου με τη Σλοβενία, η οποία, την ίδια ώρα, αντιμετωπίζει εκτός έδρας τη Μολδαβία. Στην τελευταία θέση με 1 πόντο βρίσκονται το Κόσοβο και η Μολδαβία. Η σημερινή βραδιά έχει πολλούς μεγάλους αγώνες. Στην πρώτη κατηγορία κλέβουν την παράσταση δύο μεγάλα ντέρμπι. Στον πρώτο όμιλο η Ιταλία υποδέχεται στο Μπέργκαμο (21:45) την Ολλανδία. Πρωτοπόρος με 5 βαθμούς είναι η Ιταλία. Ακολουθούν στη δεύτερη θέση με 4 βαθμούς η Ολλανδία και η Πολωνία, ενώ τελευταία με 2 πόντους είναι η Βοσνία Ερζεγοβίνη. Στον τρίτο όμιλο, στο Ζάγκρεμπ (21:45), γίνεται η αναμέτρηση των δύο φιναλίστ του Μundial του 2018, της Κροατίας και της Γαλλίας. Μάχη για την πρώτη θέση δίνουν η Γαλλία και η Πορτογαλία. Έχουν από 7 βαθμούς και τις ακολουθεί με 3 η Κροατία. Ουραγός χωρίς βαθμό είναι η Σουηδία.   Περισσότερα από 200 ειδικά στοιχήματα για κάθε αγώνα Το Πάμε Στοίχημα προσφέρει περισσότερες από 200 επιλογές για τους αγώνες Ελλάδα-Κόσοβο, Ιταλία-Ολλανδία και Κροατία-Γαλλία.  Οι παίκτες του Πάμε Στοίχημα μπορούν να ποντάρουν, μεταξύ άλλων, στα ακόλουθα ειδικά στοιχήματα: ·       Νίκη με μηδέν παθητικό ·       Στοίχημα χωρίς ισοπαλία ·       Μονά/ζυγά γκολ ·       Πρώτος παίκτης που θα σκοράρει ·       Τελευταίος παίκτης που θα σκοράρει ·       Σκόρερ οποιουδήποτε τέρματος ·       Ομάδα που θα εκτελέσει το πρώτο κόρνερ ·       Νικητής κόρνερ ·       Σκορ οποιαδήποτε στιγμή στο παιχνίδι ·       Κόκκινη κάρτα ·       Διαφορά νίκης ·       Ημίχρονο με το υψηλότερο σκορ   Τρεις προωθητικές ενέργειες από το Πάμε Στοίχημα Στα πρακτορεία ΟΠΑΠ συνεχίζονται και οι επιβραβεύσεις των παικτών του ΟΠΑΠ, «Boost 13», «Στο Παρά 1» και «Boost Νίκης», για τις οποίες ισχύουν όροι και προϋποθέσεις. Για να μάθετε περισσότερα για τις επιβραβεύσεις ΟΠΑΠ ρωτήστε τον πράκτορά σας. Σε όλα τα παιχνίδια οι παίκτες του Πάμε Στοίχημα, με την εφαρμογή OPAPP, μπορούν να δημιουργούν το δελτίο τους στο κινητό τους, να κάνουν cash-out όπου και αν βρίσκονται και να πληρώνονται σ’ ένα πρακτορείο ΟΠΑΠ. Επιπλέον έχουν τη δυνατότητα να παρακολουθούν ζωντανά την εξέλιξη των αγώνων μέσω live score και live tracker.

The nameless heroes stand firm and resolute in Gormly Keep. The reign of the Wraith would end that night-- they would give their lives to ensure it if need be. Though fear plagues their hearts, it is overpowered by their confidence. They have fought, bled, and in one instance, died together. They have trained for this, and by sunrise, the wraith shall lie dead.  Elsewhere... “You are certain of this..?” The words slithered from Omadon’s lips like a serpent from a crack in the earth. He had listened to the man’s report quietly, enjoying how fearful the scout was of offending him in any way. The transport of unpleasant tidings is never an easy task, and far less so when the recipient has a reputation for cruelty.  “Yes, m’lord. Two devils, two half-elves, a dragonman, and a gnome,” came his mumbled reply. The man, a hunter, had not been in the employ of the Red Wizard for long. Indeed, it had scarce been over a week since the Wizard had contacted him and relayed his first set of instructions. The hunter was loathe to follow through, but knew well enough not to challenge someone as powerful as a wizard. Grimsbeak and all of its guards and walls could not protect him from such wroth, and thus, he submitted to Omadon’s will and had his family moved to Edren.  Omadon raised a thin and wrinkled hand to his jaw, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.  “I, of course, have been made aware of these... adventurers. These ratcatchers who meddle in the affairs of the mighty. How funny that the same group of urchins who meddled at the tower of the fool Carolinus were the same who slew the goblins I had stationed at Eldin Bastion... I had assumed it to be disparate groups,” he said ponderously. “And these, ah... meddlers. They are stationed in Grimsbeak still?” asked the wizard, his flowing red robes like spilled blood in the dimly flickering firelight.  “Yes, m’lord. They’ve been given a room at the tavern, and are bumpin’ elbows with the Mage’s Lodge, as well as with the guard captain, Karla,” replied the hunter, wringing his cap in his hands nervously. The wizard always made his skin crawl. The hunter had little experience with magic of any kind, let alone dark magic. Everywhere the wizard’s cold eyes cast seemed to crackle with latent arcane energy, and whenever Omadon’s baleful gaze fell on the hunter, he felt his heart drop into his stomach.  “I care not about this Karla-- she will kneel easily, as will the rest of the townsfolk. But the Mage’s Lodge... idealistic fools though they may be, there are a few among their ranks that boast... greater allegiances. Tell me, know you of who specifically at the Lodge they speak to?” The hunter thought for a moment. “A dragonman, sir. Gold scales. I can’t remember his name, m’lord, V-something. Vernon, or some such.” Omadon’s eyes narrowed. “Verniclex?” The hunter cast his gaze to the floor of the tower, unwilling to meet Omadon’s glare.  “Might’ve been, sir.” “Verniclex... I have heard tales. Though these were from his younger days... he shouldn’t cause much trouble,” Omadon grinned, his yellowed teeth gleaming in the firelight. “And yet...” Omadon’s smile faltered. He cast his mind back, far back, to the time of his father, and of the stories he had been told. In each of his fathers failures, he recalled, was a common thread. The underestimation of adventurers.  Omadon set his jaw. He would not fall prey to the same traps that his forebears had. His mission was far too important. “Very well, then. These ‘heroes’ of Grimsbeak shall be my foes, and as such, shall be crushed utterly. I shall leave no chance of foul play. Already they have vexed me in halting my search at Carolinus’ tower--” Omadon stopped short. His eyes widened, and he looked on  the hunter anew.  “Tell me... you say you were quite close when you released the Cockatrices I supplied in the square. Close enough to see each of them eye to eye. Did any carry with them a bracer, or bracelet of some sort? Some special equipment upon their arm?” The hunter thought hard.  “Now that you mention it, sir... aye. The dragonman had a golden band wrapped about his arm. It was tarnished, somewhat, and dented as well-- that’s why I noticed it. The rest of his dress was richer than any I’ve ever seen, so such a poorly aged bauble stood out.” Omadon’s mind raced. Could it be..? Bulgorn, the half-dragon who had been dispatched to the tower, had found nothing. A simple casting of ‘Speak With Dead’ had revealed that much, before the body was sold. And yet... the oaf had never been known for his attention to detail. It was possible that the very object of the search had been right under his scaly nose all along. “It didn’t look to be a fancy thing, m’lord... truth be told, it was rather beat up. Is it important?” asked the hunter, forgetting himself. Omadon glanced up from his thoughts. “Indeed, peasant. That trinket hides a far greater power than any other present in your entire measly village.” Omadon’s fingers trembled. The trip to Eldin, it seemed, would not be in vain after all. “Go, fool. Your payment awaits at the foot of the tower.” The hunter did not wait, and immediately turned and fled down the stairs, dashing past the open and ruined walls of the tower.  On the roof of the tower, a massive shape shifted. A voice rushed through the open window like a hot wind. “Are you quite sure you want the man-thing to know so much, Omadon?” The voice was deep like rumbling stone, and carried with it a sense of sadistic levity. “...no. No, I should think not. He’s yours,” Omadon replied. There was a low cackle from the rooftop. As the massive shape began to move once again, Omadon called out: “Inform the Orcs. Weapons ready, and they are not to eat or rut until I give the order. Any who disobey are yours to do with as you will. I want them hungry.”  “As you wish,” came the slow, sonorous reply. Wind rushed about the tower, and the roof lay bare. * * *  The hunter walked along the road quickly, thankful for the bright moonlight guiding his way. He dared not carry a torch, for fear of the questions he would be asked should a guard sight him. He kept the fat purse the orc had handed him clutched tightly in his hands, feeling the weight of the coin, and trying to ignore the weight of his betrayal. Grimsbeak was not the finest of towns, but it was far from deserving of what was coming, of that he was sure. He squinted against the darkness, unable to see the road. The moon had vanished... a cloud? He turned his gaze skyward. The hunter screamed, then fell silent. His tracks in the earth ended abruptly in the middle of the road, before the duststorm that had appeared covered them entirely. Against the crickets and owls, the sound of massive wingbeats faded into the night.

On one side of the province, deep below the surface of the earth, the nameless party of adventurers face the wrath of an ettercap, toxic spittle flecking from its fangs as it roars into the darkness of the cavern. They raise their hands, some brandishing blades, others readying spell or song. They are confident-- a horror though it may be, they know that they can bring it down. Elsewhere... The chamber was decrepit, and the night air blew icy cold through the long-shattered window. The tower had been scouted months ago by the tribe, and Gul’on knew that it would not crumble under his weight. All the same, the Orc was uneasy standing in the uppermost chamber of the tower. He liked the feeling of earth beneath his feet, he liked the way that the ground reverberated with the march of his tribe when they hunted and raided together. He allowed himself a moment of reminiscence-- to think of the open plains that he used to ride through with his brothers and sisters in arms, of when they were their own force, before the coming of the Red One. He shook his head, his coarse black braids smacking faintly at the sides of his strong jaw. Gathering himself, he raised his green fist and pounded at the large wooden door that stood before him. A moment of quiet passed, before a voice-- deep and sonorous-- snaked its way through the crack below the door. “Enter, Gul’on.” The orc did as he was bade. The chamber within was bare, but for a few strange markings on the walls and floor, and a single chair and table, upon which burned a lone candle. Though the tower had been their base of operations for some time, it did not appear as though his master had made any use of his private chambers. Gul’on’s eyes were accustomed to darkness, but the candle made it difficult at first to make out the figure within. The low voice came from near the open window: “Well? What news do you bring me?” Gul’on turned to face him. Though obscured by shadow, the pale moonlight that shone through the tower lit up the blood-red robes of Omadon. His eyes flared slightly in the dark, as did the single gemstone embedded in his crimson crown. Gul’on spoke slowly, still unused to the common tongue. “We take... take gold from village. Two... two of blacksmith say they no-” “Use your own tongue, beast, if you cannot manage even to speak man’s absurd language,” Omadon spat suddenly. Gul’on stifled a growl. He hated the wizard, as did the rest of his tribe-- but they were powerless against him. He spoke again, this time in Orcish. “We took two week’s worth of supplies from the village. Four carts, each loaded with enough food and arrows for the tribe. A pair of blacksmiths said that they would not offer their armor and weapons to us-- so we took them instead. They remain tied down in the camp below.” “Why? You should have slain them, made an example of them to the rest of the village,” Omadon replied in Common. Gul’on winced slightly, doing his best to keep up with the unfamiliar language.  “My Lord, we thought it better to bring them back here. Those in the village will come up with their own ideas of what was done to them-- and in the meantime, we can break them down. In time, they may forge for the tribe, and for you.” Omadon turned and gazed out of the tower, his pale and gnarled fingers resting on the windowsill. Far below, the bonfires of the Orc tribe lit up the darkness. A massive shape that rested on the top of the tower shifted, scraping against the stone roof. A wicked smile crept across Omadon’s lips. “I know well of your species’ proclivity for savagery... perhaps you and your pack would enjoy making a meal of the both of them?” Gul’on felt a flare of rage in his chest when he understood.  “No. Not us. Not our tribe,” he said firmly in common. Though some orcs ate the flesh of the civilized races, his tribe had-- as most-- scorned the practice. Omadon turned to look back at Gul’on, a dangerous glow in his eyes.  “I told you to stop speaking in the language of men. Your kind is too dimwitted even for that-- and you would do well to watch your tone. Need I remind you of what happened to your leader? Your brave, heroic leader, who thought it wise to challenge me?” Gul’on cast his gaze downward, a cold sweat on the back of his neck. He remembered perfectly well what had happened to Chief Gaz’ul. “No, my Lord,” he replied in Orcish.  “Good,” said Omadon, turning back to the night sky. “And what of the town? What of Grimsbeak?” Gul’on mulled over his words before replying.  “We could take the town if need be. Their walls are strong, but their back gate is still being repaired. It would not be easy, but the tribe more than outnumbers their guards.” Omadon thought for a moment, raising his fingers to his prominent chin.  “No... let us try for diplomacy to start. I shall send a message to the people of Grimsbeak requesting the homage I am due. If they do not listen...” “Then we march?” Gul’on asked. “No,” Omadon replied, smiling. “No, you will not march. If they do not give me what is mine... then perhaps the time will be right to reveal myself fully. To show the people of Edren, and all of Terheim, the true power of Omadon the Red.” Gul’on kept his head bowed as he questioned, “You would go there yourself, my lord?” Omadon did not turn as he replied: “No. I would send my lieutenant. You remember, don’t you? You met him the day your leader fell.” Gul’on looked up, eyes wide. Before he could speak, Omadon continued: “Leave my sight, Gul’on. Kill the smiths, and make it last. Burn them, flay them, just don’t break them. I know someone who will purchase the corpses, so long as their bones are intact.” Gul’on bowed his great green head, and hurried out the door and down the stairs. Soon thereafter, wailing screams echoed up the side of the tower from the encampment. The room lay empty, the candle extinguished. Wind howled through the tower. In the shadows of the night, there was a firm thrumming sound, like the beating of great wings.

Click here to learn more.

Omadon is so cute when he's tucked in.

I didn't realize my timelapse got cut off! Here's the completed #drawing #art #ink #omadon #FlightOfDragons #RankinBass #fanart #wizard #evil #magic #dark

A #timelapse of me #inking a #fanart #drawing of #Omadon from the old #RankinBass Film #FlightOfDragons not a great animated film. But #Nostalgia compels me. #art #sketchbook #characterdesign #wizard #villain #ink #colerase