Into The Rift

Whatever It Takes (25)

A precarious situation this is, a danger unlike anything I've come across. The storm indeed was the herald of great change, one can only assume so with such a sight as this.

My lips remain sealed. The rest of my fellow hunters remain just as silent, doing our best to fade into nature's embrace.

My heart is pumping, pushing worry throughout my very being. A winged abomination looms in the air, both its circular wings casting a never ending growl, lacking that graceful element of flight.

Yet, these very wings are able to keep it aloft, effortlessly like that of an insect. The bony appendage remains in place, never once fluttering against the winds, unlike those of a dragon or wyvern.

That is not a shape gifted by nature, so it may be a creature of creation. It is not alive, but merely an empty vessel through which to command.

Should that guess be true, this abomination will be one of formidable strength.

I scowl under my cloak, still weaving along the outskirts of trees with the rest of my elven kin, perhaps now with a touch of desperation. These beings along the northern coasts, are people, most certainly molded by the gods as well, like us.

Yet as I peer into their forms, I sense no magical aura within. Not a spark resonates in them, even a sapling has more. They are beings of unbridled uncertainty to us, why have they come to our shores?

So many questions to be answered, so here we stand, the source of the visions. It has sadly done nothing but birth new questions. Questions which I fear the answers to.

But regardless of what my thoughts are, I shall not allow it to dictate my actions. My eyes remain free and roaming, watching the beings in all their armored glory.

Their faces are shrouded in black fabric, but there is one who stands out amongst the gathering of warriors, looking very strange, yet eerily familiar.

A red leather is adorned to the top of his exposed head, there is hair but it is strangely painted in the shade of black. The eyes as well share the same trait, yet it holds a kindling spark of suspicion.

The stance of this being is simple yet commanding, almost as if he believes this land is his to proudly defend.

Is it right to call them beings with souls of steel as dictated by the visions of my wife and other seers?

Most definitely....

The aura of warriors, it resides in every being, but there is more within. A strong yearning for knowledge deep in their souls, appearing almost instinctual. This primal desire for all things unknown, perhaps that is what compelled them to journey across the horizon of great blue.

"We must bring this to the Bishop's attention," I speak out, as dictated by my worrying thoughts, "this place has been claimed without our blessings."

"I must concur, their flying stones are all around, they seem ready to strike," One of the hunters replied, doing well to mask his fear.

The consensus has been crafted, all hunters nod in agreement, aware of the dangers before us.

Our retreat must be made with haste, lest we share the same fate as the slain armidyles. This was their nesting site, the cradle through which they hatch their young.

A sudden flare of anger seeps into my thoughts. So how dare they take it at the height of their mating season.

This crime must not go unanswered.

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The journey back to the village is one that requires us to be weary of our dashes, such effort is needed as the storm has no qualms about endangering the lives of those who come unbalanced.