The elezen gazed from beneath the brim of his cowl as his dull eyes stared intently at the walking miqo'te. Â The elezen scratched his chin as he sent his will out and examined the aether flow radiating from the miqo'te. Â It was sufficient. It was not the best host for the soul he had chained but the soul was fading, death leeching away the qualities it had once had, the qualities the elezen had wanted in the first place.Â
The hooded and brown robed elezen waved his left hand and two figures, dressed in ordinary garb began to follow the miqo'te. Â Both men we unremarkable save that the left half of their faces were tattooed black, just like the elezen's was.
The elderly elezen turned and began to stride through the leaf covered street of Gridania. This miqo'te would serve as the perfect coil for his newest "crow." The elezen gazed around him as he went, smelling the scent of rot around him as he ground fallen leaves beneath his heels.
His god was the god of death, the merchant of souls, and he was the voice and will of his god, the instrument that would return his god to its mortal coil and flood the markets of the underworld with countless souls when the time came. And death always came in time.
The hooded and brown robed elezen waved his left hand and two figures, dressed in ordinary garb began to follow the miqo'te. Â Both men we unremarkable save that the left half of their faces were tattooed black, just like the elezen's was.
The elderly elezen turned and began to stride through the leaf covered street of Gridania. This miqo'te would serve as the perfect coil for his newest "crow." The elezen gazed around him as he went, smelling the scent of rot around him as he ground fallen leaves beneath his heels.
His god was the god of death, the merchant of souls, and he was the voice and will of his god, the instrument that would return his god to its mortal coil and flood the markets of the underworld with countless souls when the time came. And death always came in time.
