War is Coming...
In the Glades of Tirisfal...
With a small, strangled cry, the human finally fell, toppling to the floor in a crumpled, smoking heat. The sheer heat of the flame still licking at his red robes was enough to shrivel the corpse into a charred foetal heap. One less of the Scarlet dogs to hound the undead of the Glades.
He staggered forward then, a once proud human form shrunk away to almost nothing from decay and death, hunched within thick crimson robes and a flowing cloak upon his back. Long ebony hair hung lankly down his spine, one claw-like hand clutching at the sword hilt at his side. The yellow eyes that glinted from beneath a few strands of the hair were the only part of him that seemed truly alive, and they were malevolent, dangerous. The warlock viewed the dead human with equal parts impassion and distain, giving it a sharp kick and uttering a slight bark of laugher as the impact point crumpled to ashes. Gods, but how he loved to hunt down these humans upon the lands they were so bold as to deface with their presence, and in the very shadow of the Monastery where they thought they were safe.
The imp Garrot hopped forward, claws twitching, eyes glinting, the flame wreathing it's body spurting and darting with the demon's primitive thoughts. Shiryou stared down at the despicable little creature, the loathesome thing he had summoned long ago. Strange how this vile creature was his closest companion. In a way, both understood and appreciated each other. The undead chuckled and smirked down at the demon. It flicked and ear and returned the malicious grin. There was more hunting to be done that night.
The cracking of a twig drew the warlock's attention to the presence of his next victim, another careless young monk out to hunt himself an undead. With a quiet sneer, he clutched the sword hilt tighter and followed, as silent as a ghost.
Shiryou would never stop until the monks had left his home.
South of the Crossroads, the Barrens...
The hot noon sun bore down upon the Gold Road, it's oppressive heat causing the great kodo herds to slow and seek shade and water. Even the hyenas that stalked the Barrens retreated to the shadows of the trees, and the scytheclaws spread out upon the rocks to sunbathe in the heat the reptiles loved.
The raptor rode swiftly up the main road, the clawed feet sending up puffs of dust from the parched land. Its skin was a shimmering green-blue, the turquoise colour of the morning sea, brilliant gold eyes flickering around to check its path, sometimes straying to one of the lazing kodo almost wistfully. Yet the steed had been trained well and stayed to the path.
A sudden pull on the reins caused the raptor to snort and hiss, biting at the bit in it's mouth. The rider leapt from the beast in one smooth motion, patting the throat of the magnificent creature soothingly and whispering a few quiet words. It stamped its feet and snorted once more, before giving one final huff and swiping the proffered raw meat in one quick bite. One more pat upon the beast's neck and the rider was moving, walking towards one small puddle in the ground, one of the very few that remained since the last rainfall.
Resting his staff upon the ground and leaning forward to sit on his haunches, Shiomizo reached down with one hand, resting the palm to the floor, fingers and thumb widespread. His eyes, the same colour as the glittering scales of the raptor, watched the movement of the soil as he carefully pushed his hand into the dirt, as the water from the nearby puddle ran over into the indent, flowing over his fingers. He frowned, sensing it almost immediately. Not for nothing was Shiomizo the Soul of Water; the element of Life coursed through his veins as much did his blood.
And it was blood, blood in the soil from countless battles, that flowed into the water as he withdrew his hand from the ground.
It always starts the same way.
The sky, alive with falling lights. The sound of drums and the sea of slowly fluttering banners against a smoke filled sunset. The crash of metal and the sound of frantic movement echoing around cavernous halls carved into rock. Before finally, there in the dark, surrounded by the corpses of the vanquished defenders and the twisted abominations who slaughtered them, the universe rips open and something terrible fades into view.
Then this vision as quickly as it came, is gone. Vanished. Leaving only the sound of the wind moving through the trees.
Aviva slumps forward somewhat, weakened for a moment. To channel the future is to ride the rapids of a very dangerous river in a very small boat, and when you reach your destination it might not be all you had hoped for. This future however always is the same, and the vision grows more vibrant becomes longer with every occurrence. Through it all it’s message is the same, the mortal world falls and when it does it takes the Forsaken with it.
Time is running out and while both sides argue and squabble like mortal children a destructive power rises in the places where mortals, and even Forsaken, fear to tread. Now, if the mortals decide that exterminating one another is their path to enlightenment, then so be it. If our ultimate destruction is the will of the Gods, then so be it.
But the gods & mortals should know that this humble servant will do it’s utmost to erase the taint of the Scourge from the face of this planet, by any means necessary.