Rise Of The Durthan

[drumtheweasel]

The woods of the forest whisper on a gentle breeze. Soft moonlight shines through the leaves and blankets the grass, glinting off her cold hard steel as she pulls it from the chest of a bandit unfortunate enough to cross her. Blood soaks the ground as several other bodies, some headless and silently screaming splay around her.

The warmth of anger soothes her as she kicks the body free of her blade, sheathing it quickly and covered in gore. The Wychlara is here.

"Anger is a gift, young sister," her voice whispers deep into her ear. The eery blue woman reaches deep into the chest of the corpses and pulls their souls out by their necks. The wind stirs and blows as the etherial woman slowly swallows them, drinking their eternal souls. Their spirits silently screaming as they are consumed.

The young girl breathes heavily under her bone mask and kneels, taking what is now hers.

"You will speak in riddles and ancient wisdom, find those that I seek and take what is yours. You are Ethran. Make them suffer." The eery blue figure slowly dances away as the gentle wind blows.

Thunder cracks angrily over the far horizon.