An Old Purpose

[_Sug 2809]

Spoiler

 

[!]

Within the cold tundra, stalked a being who was cloaked and worn in both posture and depiction. With crisp licks of air that pervaded his nostrils, small huffs of vapor made their escape from beneath his veiled presentation with every passing breeze of snow and draft that whistled through the thistle. Long had it been since this personage had ventured to barren land, yet with his movements the songs of nature that once surrounded him fell silent and within his hand rested an old staff, crafted through beastialized arts of yore which it’s very presence caused the scarce flora to retreat below the snow which layered the coarse and frozen ground like icing on a celebratory cake. Something had changed within the man, not sinister nor with the intent of malice in his heart, but a new purpose given to him by a Crow in prior years. The being came into the realization that he had continued the mission given to him but became complacent in his enforcement. “The wheel shall continue to turn, we Widu shall act as the spokes supporting it as the cycle turns eternally through time. Those who do nothing for its restoration are as good as dirt beneath beaten boots.” The man huffed out through the cold to five or six others who followed him through the badlands of the northern landscape. Eventually they would move into a clearing where there stood many similar groups to their own, then departing into the opposite tree-line. A new task had begun, the wheel that had once remained dormant, began to creak again, the cycle beginning anew.

 

Thur' sna brikas, al' new zubguglar ordek.  Yofuul  undere kknotos, du' cycle muz  kuram restorurk'

[Slayy 816]

A elfess begins to step out into the brisk shadow of night, the moonlight barely shining down on her skin. Her red locks slowly flowing down her shoulders as the vines around her started to twist and turn into brambles. “Finally.. Some change.” The druidess starts to walk out, her bare feet beginning to send waves of verdant energy which caused most plant-life to take a wild and carnivorest shape. Her embarkment leading her into the black, grim forests of Areas.

[Hephaestus 1326]

Sleeping Hawk remained at a blissful ignorance, closely listening to the nightingale’s heed of call within the heart of a marsh. With the release of a piercing chant, the chieftain rose from his seat upon the clash of mud and moss, wiping at the bark of a tree via his left leg, in an attempt to rid himself of filth, thus the bark scraping violently against his thigh. ”The wheel is still in spin, o’ those high o’er heather. Sons and daughters of Eos who once were free, yar’ now are slaves to the factory.”  Benevolently so, the ‘ame pulled heartily at herb of sage, a circle of such spawning around himself. In one light of a spark, the bayou glowed a deep hue of yellow, for the second coming of Igne’Acaele was to come.