'Twas a lonely night, the moon was shining, a northerly breeze blew with a faint chill. on this night a figure visited San Adrian...
Nobody heard, nobody saw, everyone was asleep...
And the lonely figure hunted, for the wicked, for the racist, for the ones who made this world hell with their collective idiocy
"The World Will Change" thought this lonely figure on this chilly night
"It Will Change, Or It Will Burn"
and a tiny voice seemed to ask in his head, a whisper on the wind to this figure, "But I fear it... the fire burned, and it hurt... so why?"
Come morning, there was naught but a scrap of black cloth caught on a bush, and footprints in the pebbles that were strewn around the road, as is normal for such a city...
((OOC: Quick write up to foreshadow some stuff, the length is horrible, I need to make it longer I know, I'll work on that for next time.