Jin'li sat in is tower at the heart of Limsa, wrapped in the cloak of midnight. The white miqo'te was leaning forward in his chair, silently studying the blank wall.Â
The light of several candles flickered as a wind from a gathering storm blew in through the open windows. In the shadows cast by these pale, ghost lights, dozens of ravens sat; their burning, blood red eyes peering at the miqo'te.Â
His face was blank as the wheels of his twisted mind spun their dark plans. He had no emotions on his face and his eyes were empty pits, devoid of anything.
He sat without emotion. All that remained was a single, unwaverable purpose.Â
Adin had seen to that.Â
Severing the runt's soul in twain. Cutting the weak, emotional part from him, attempting to leave the miqo'te powerless. But Jin'li had endured. He was now without any weakness of mind. No emotions, no memories, nothing but a singular drive to destroy the ruined world he was trapped in and free the masses of mortal souls into the true void in which anarchy reigned true and even god's could not claim dominion.
More winds blew, stronger than before as the heart of the storm drew closer to Limsa, the mighty tempest heads rising up like the fingers of a furious god.
The gusts tossed pages of open ledgers frantically. The pages were all covered in Jin'li methodical transcription. Hundreds of pages revealed thousands of weapons and massive quantities of gil had been spread through out Eorzea and beyond. Weapons bearing the mark of Jin'li's company now reached nearly every shadowed little crook this world could offer.Â
And every person that died at their edges or points would never have their soul reach Nald'Thal's domain. They were taken for the white miqo'te's singular, obsessive purpose.Â
The Amassing.
The great act Jin'li intended to unleash upon the world was growing close to it's final stages. Soon, nothing would stop the world's demise. And it would be the habit of mortals to butcher one another that would see it all happen. Jin'li was a leech feasting upon the normal acts of mortal hatred and greed. The plan was simple. Like a tax collector, he let the little bees buzz about working, and take his share without their willing consent.
They would praise him when the false reality came crashing down.Â
Thunder rolled.
There was only one hitch in his plan. One loose screw.Â
"The White Raven." Jin'li stated calmly, his voice flat and devoid of any emotion as he black eyes stared into the wall.
The gathered black ravens cawed angrily and the tore out of the windows in a gathered mass as they were suddenly driven by the will of the white miqo'te. Their red eyes glowed as they tore into the tempest int heir wild search. They would hunt, they would find, and they would kill.
The light of several candles flickered as a wind from a gathering storm blew in through the open windows. In the shadows cast by these pale, ghost lights, dozens of ravens sat; their burning, blood red eyes peering at the miqo'te.Â
His face was blank as the wheels of his twisted mind spun their dark plans. He had no emotions on his face and his eyes were empty pits, devoid of anything.
He sat without emotion. All that remained was a single, unwaverable purpose.Â
Adin had seen to that.Â
Severing the runt's soul in twain. Cutting the weak, emotional part from him, attempting to leave the miqo'te powerless. But Jin'li had endured. He was now without any weakness of mind. No emotions, no memories, nothing but a singular drive to destroy the ruined world he was trapped in and free the masses of mortal souls into the true void in which anarchy reigned true and even god's could not claim dominion.
More winds blew, stronger than before as the heart of the storm drew closer to Limsa, the mighty tempest heads rising up like the fingers of a furious god.
The gusts tossed pages of open ledgers frantically. The pages were all covered in Jin'li methodical transcription. Hundreds of pages revealed thousands of weapons and massive quantities of gil had been spread through out Eorzea and beyond. Weapons bearing the mark of Jin'li's company now reached nearly every shadowed little crook this world could offer.Â
And every person that died at their edges or points would never have their soul reach Nald'Thal's domain. They were taken for the white miqo'te's singular, obsessive purpose.Â
The Amassing.
The great act Jin'li intended to unleash upon the world was growing close to it's final stages. Soon, nothing would stop the world's demise. And it would be the habit of mortals to butcher one another that would see it all happen. Jin'li was a leech feasting upon the normal acts of mortal hatred and greed. The plan was simple. Like a tax collector, he let the little bees buzz about working, and take his share without their willing consent.
They would praise him when the false reality came crashing down.Â
Thunder rolled.
There was only one hitch in his plan. One loose screw.Â
"The White Raven." Jin'li stated calmly, his voice flat and devoid of any emotion as he black eyes stared into the wall.
The gathered black ravens cawed angrily and the tore out of the windows in a gathered mass as they were suddenly driven by the will of the white miqo'te. Their red eyes glowed as they tore into the tempest int heir wild search. They would hunt, they would find, and they would kill.
