Marcus felt a cold chill through his entire soul the moment he touched the sludge like liquid that made up the core of the Font of Death.
All at once he felt the amassed anguish, pain, fear, and rage that had created this magical phenomenon.
Hundreds of thousands of lives had been snuffed out all at once to create this well of undeath and negative energy.
The cataclysm that had caused so much death had been lost to history, and now all that remained was this Font of Death that spread the resentment of the long dead.
Thoughts of spreading the destruction that befell the people, beasts, and monsters that had died began to fill Marcus' mind. The powerful emotions left behind were trying to influence him.
'Still, this is not enough to push me over the edge.'
With his mind steeled beforehand Marcus kept out the intrusive thoughts of spreading death and destruction that the Font of Death was trying to force upon him.
