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[Prophecy] The Five Plagues of The West


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Across the world, in every caste and creed, Seers of Vaasek, Mediums cursed with Vivification, Farseeing Shamans and former practitioners of Naztherak would share the same prophetic vision:

 

Distant banners fly black and gold

And crows reign again in this kingdom old

In orchid fields and reconquered lands

Come sin and spite from long dead hands

Five plagues borne of hellish flames

Shall shake the land as chaos reigns:

 

Darkness

Toads

Betrayal

Blood

Death

 

 

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“T’a Toads one doesn’ sound so bad, ter beh hones’” comments Filibert Applefoot

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From amidst her garments of tattered cloth and vine, a woman looked up from amidst the damp candlelight of her dank and dark abode. She gave a crooked smile, blackened teeth revealed as she brought her hand towards the candle in front of her, then blowing it out quietly – allowing the room to succumb to the darkness. 

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A Mali’ame sets his toad catching jars out on his front porch. It’s going to be a good harvest this year, the man thinks to himself.

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oh god, here are the end of days. GIANT FROGS that crush people

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A gaunt elfess wanders the roads, eyes darting left and right as she sees what most do not. She hears the spectres’ gossip, biting her lip as she nervously continued down the barren path.

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Banshee Queen..” the raggedy looking woman would mutter swiftly and frantically under her breath, as if afraid to be heart. Her hands rose to her eyes, she had grown used to no longer needing them concealed, but she’d always disguised the horrific scars that told story of how her sight was stolen.

 

The woman looked about the bog as the swampy mud water dripped from her hair and face. The sound of a toad’s croak would come from her left side and would commence a symphony of toads to begin croaking along to the beat of a rather unenjoyable tune. She’d raise her left hand to slightly covet what remained of that eye as she’d call out into the gloomy swamp. 
 

Rain fell heavy from the sky, polluting the filthy pond with a deep red shade. As it landed upon her skin the woman winced as she’d make the attempt to rise to her feet, the toads’ croaking growing louder and louder as a once familiar crystalline blue flame began to rise from the water’s surface, engulfing the woman in moments and it was over as quickly as it was painless.

 

A toad hopped away from the rock it was sat on just in time to dodge the foot that nearly crushed it. The same disheveled woman now walking barefoot down a rather muddy trail off into the night.

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Brandt Barclay perks a brow as he stumbles across such a prohecy. With brows furrowing then and eyes squinting, the man tilts his head as he things ”Those first zwei first lines sound awfully close to ein reference of Haense” he says to himself before continuing to read on as the word “TOADS” would be seen written; his eyes widen in surprise ”Oh dear Godan, don’t tell me Buck and his frogs will have something to do with this” the young man would then sign the cross over his body, hoping GOD is merciful enough to not utilize the power of Buck to bring an end to the world.

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A grim creature heard of the news, or rather she sees the vision, and somehow seemed shocked at it. However, she continued to walk on her way
Toads...? I don’t like this.”

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Varan the Seer snaps awake after being granted the vision – the ‘Fenn seemingly resting in a hut pants out, sweat dripping from his brow he instantly shoots up and wraps his blindfold around his head. Grabbing a staff he quickly makes his way off towards the location of some old friends...

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A cackling fire scattered its embers in all directions, bouncing against the brickwork of the fireplace as if eager to taste something aside from lumber. Shadows danced across the walls, made by the flickering light off the flame roaring nearby. An exhausted elfess sat across from the hearth, her hands combing through the cards of her tarot. Her hair had been clumped into thin strands, stressed with a long night. Complexion far paler than her natural appearance, she appeared somewhat ghostly in that moody, unstable light. Her body thin and cold, she craved the warmth of the fire to sustain her. A soft velvet fabric was wrapped across her eyelids, ensuring that no light reached beneath, yet not impairing the accuracy of her shuffle.

 

The cloudy night sky barely provided any natural light, allowing most in the manor to slumber so in peace. However, an auspicious thought haunted Vritra’s weary mind, cursing her with a dreadful insomnia. Her thoughts wandered, allowing her only a moment of brief relaxation before a loud hiss gripped her attention. Her black cat screeched out towards the fireplace before scampering out, leaving her now well and truly alone. The seer drifted he mind's eye over to the flame which soon erupted, a volcano of fire shooting upwards into her chimney.

 

An odd pressure soon gripped at her throat, scattering out a short scream. Her second sight began to slowly wash away as if it was a portrait, leaving her enrapt in a vision of The Five Plagues of the West. Her lips parting to speak in an old, hoarse voice, scratchy and dry. The manor seemed to quake from her words, her vision consumed with particular sights.

 

As the words and images left her, Vritra crumpled to her knees, gasping for air while her hands gripped at her throat. Moments passed before she looked towards the floor, trying to calm herself; but all that she was welcomed with was the scattering of her cards, only five turned over. The Ten of Swords, The Hanged Man, Death, The Devil and The Moon. “The End is here...”

 

The Ten of Swords, numerous blades stabbed in the back of a solider, his comrades behind him. The Hanged Man dripped blood down his body, slashes and cuts littered over his form. Death, showed a decrepit skull, cloaked in a velvet black cloth while webs and moss grew around. The Devil showed a red horned man, his forked tail dancing around while flames encircled him. Next was the Moon, a bleak card with black mist covering what was once its full, luminous shape. The cards soon melted into ash, leaving nothing but dust to be blown away by wind creeping in through a window. "All must know... For there is nothing that shall stop it...."

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Riklaumeth, a blind prophet of yore awakens from the caress of his of slumber, sweat painting his visage. That which was painted across his subconscious workings had, oddly, disturbed this rather calm and uncaring half-blood. He rises from the comforts of his leafy spread, and equips himself for the journey ahead. It took only moments before his den was empty once more, the moonlight guiding his way.


Bel’ra, a once fallen shaman of yore, appeared rather preoccupied with her prayer to an undisclosed Spirit, however, fleeting imagery and gnarled sounds made waves across her senses. She stared off at the center-mass of the gargantuan totem of which she found herself regularly, the entirety of her being frozen as she watched the events play out before her. This vision, it came about suddenly, and fled without notice – She sat idle for a time, even after the prophetic vision faded from her cerebral workings, no verbal response was ushered forth from her core. She remained in a state of deep thought, hoping that this was the work of a Spirit of Knowledge that she had been in service to.

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