(Yes, the song is modern. I don't feel like making up my own music, so deal with it 
)
Below in the crowded Lominsan walk known as Hawker's Alley, he fled. A man in tattered rags, nothing more than another street vermin. He pushed through commonfolk, shoving women and children, vendors, and servants aside in his panic. People jeered, cursing the frantic pauper. His face was ragged, aged by hard living and pocked with scars both old and new. His hair was shorn, a strange symbol, some sort of bird with wings out-stretched, carved into the stubble over his oblong skull. Dirty, beaten, and alone, the wretch struggled to flee.Â
Few heard the song save for its target, the poor bedraggled fool looking back behind him with wild eyes. "N-NO! NO, GODS! PLEASE!" So distracted was the pauper that he slammed into the chest of a burly yellowjacket who snatched him by the collar of his filthy tunic. "Oi now! Watch yer bleedin' steps, rat!" The urchin screamed, girlish in his terror, and his arms wrapped hard around the Roegadyn's limb. "PLEASE, DON'T YOU HEAR IT!? HE'S COMING FOR ME!" cried the marked man, but the yellowjacket only laughed it off. "HAH! Nutter, you is. LEFTENANT! Got me a squirrelly sort 'ere, wot!" The soldier called out, drawing the attention of his fellow footmen stationed around the commerce hallway. The poor pauper clung to the soldier's arm still, horrified.
The Leftenant approached his subordinate, eyeing the mad man clinging to his arm and screaming loud enough to draw attention from those going about their daily business. "Shut -up-, loon!" The Leftenant growled, letting loose a steel plated backhand that sent the urchin sprawling to the cobblestones and freed the yellowjacket from his grasp. The marked man flailed, scrambling to get his feet under him and flee once again. "Sanctuary! Please! Sanctuary!" He cried as yellowjackets surrounded him to cut him off from the goodly folk before he hurt someone. Still, the poor soul heard the singing, invading his mind.
THUNK! An arrow slammed into the side of the poor man's head, piercing the bird shape carved into his shorn hair. The yellowjackets bellowed alarm and drew axes, spinning round to stand as back brothers against the unknown assault. "THAL'S BALLS!" Yelped the Leftenant, drawing his pistol. "EVERYONE DOWN!!" Hawker's alley erupted in chaos, folk falling to the cobblestones and screaming in terror at the sudden ruckus. CLA-CLANG! An arrow clattered against one of the soldier's sallet, ricocheting and glancing off the soldier beside him's helm as well. Though neither yellowjacket were hurt, the impacts jostled them and they split in a lurch away from each other out of instinct. In that split second, a third arrow sailed between their shoulders and pierced the dead pauper's chest. The Leftenant barked orders, but all footmen were focused on the quivering arrow lodged in the dead man's chest. "....Uh...Ser!" One called, watching the urchin's chest begin to swell around the arrow. ".....RUN!!" The footmen stood firm, their training and duty dictating they keep the people safe while the Leftenant dove over the counter of a nearby stall.
For within the ring of soldiers, the dead man's chest exploded in a column of fire followed by the sizzling squeal of immolated organs and methane excretions that sounded eerily like the wail of a bird....leaving little behind but a vacuous cavity of a corpse.
Far above on the balcony of the airship landing stood a grey-cloaked form, cowled against sight. In thick mitted hands was a dark painted bow which was soon stowed beneath the cloak as well. One mitt then lifted into the cowl, brushing along the side of the fabric hood.
"Target Eliminated"
The cloaked form turned, limping around the corner of the balcony back into the landing bay. It staggered awkwardly toward the ticketeer's booth, singing softly to itself....
)"~Wait! There's never been a mess like this.
Oh, no more hands to hold.
When the page turns tomorrow with the hurt to give up.
Curse us as Gods have
Believe me, Hell has no room for your crime.
So beat me, till the blood and the bone finds our end near.~"
Below in the crowded Lominsan walk known as Hawker's Alley, he fled. A man in tattered rags, nothing more than another street vermin. He pushed through commonfolk, shoving women and children, vendors, and servants aside in his panic. People jeered, cursing the frantic pauper. His face was ragged, aged by hard living and pocked with scars both old and new. His hair was shorn, a strange symbol, some sort of bird with wings out-stretched, carved into the stubble over his oblong skull. Dirty, beaten, and alone, the wretch struggled to flee.Â
"~Bye, bye world, or will our hope still hold on?
Boy, you're never going see,
The things that will come of these (days.)
Raise your hands high!
Young brothers and sisters,Â
There's a world's worth of work and a need for you.
Oh, a change is coming, feel these doors now closing in.
Is there no world for tomorrow, if we wait for today?
So march to the drumming, show them you're coming.
You've been their play toy.
Cut to the carving,
Bleed them 'til robbing.
Enough! They'll take no more.~"
Few heard the song save for its target, the poor bedraggled fool looking back behind him with wild eyes. "N-NO! NO, GODS! PLEASE!" So distracted was the pauper that he slammed into the chest of a burly yellowjacket who snatched him by the collar of his filthy tunic. "Oi now! Watch yer bleedin' steps, rat!" The urchin screamed, girlish in his terror, and his arms wrapped hard around the Roegadyn's limb. "PLEASE, DON'T YOU HEAR IT!? HE'S COMING FOR ME!" cried the marked man, but the yellowjacket only laughed it off. "HAH! Nutter, you is. LEFTENANT! Got me a squirrelly sort 'ere, wot!" The soldier called out, drawing the attention of his fellow footmen stationed around the commerce hallway. The poor pauper clung to the soldier's arm still, horrified.
"~You've been given all the power, boy.
Now go and make your move.
Curse us, these Gods, aren't faking.
Have mercy on the cowards, boy.
They'll pray to have you lose.
Help us, this world's now breaking.
So now they've noticed all you've given in sound.
Let us in. Let us in.
Give me love over life, the sweet soft of ground.
Let us in. Let us in now.~"
The Leftenant approached his subordinate, eyeing the mad man clinging to his arm and screaming loud enough to draw attention from those going about their daily business. "Shut -up-, loon!" The Leftenant growled, letting loose a steel plated backhand that sent the urchin sprawling to the cobblestones and freed the yellowjacket from his grasp. The marked man flailed, scrambling to get his feet under him and flee once again. "Sanctuary! Please! Sanctuary!" He cried as yellowjackets surrounded him to cut him off from the goodly folk before he hurt someone. Still, the poor soul heard the singing, invading his mind.
"~In the light we'll sing, as all hurt must bring.
In the falling cusp of all broken things.
In the coming dusk, you will call on us and unite we must.
I'm the CROWING FLY!~"
THUNK! An arrow slammed into the side of the poor man's head, piercing the bird shape carved into his shorn hair. The yellowjackets bellowed alarm and drew axes, spinning round to stand as back brothers against the unknown assault. "THAL'S BALLS!" Yelped the Leftenant, drawing his pistol. "EVERYONE DOWN!!" Hawker's alley erupted in chaos, folk falling to the cobblestones and screaming in terror at the sudden ruckus. CLA-CLANG! An arrow clattered against one of the soldier's sallet, ricocheting and glancing off the soldier beside him's helm as well. Though neither yellowjacket were hurt, the impacts jostled them and they split in a lurch away from each other out of instinct. In that split second, a third arrow sailed between their shoulders and pierced the dead pauper's chest. The Leftenant barked orders, but all footmen were focused on the quivering arrow lodged in the dead man's chest. "....Uh...Ser!" One called, watching the urchin's chest begin to swell around the arrow. ".....RUN!!" The footmen stood firm, their training and duty dictating they keep the people safe while the Leftenant dove over the counter of a nearby stall.
For within the ring of soldiers, the dead man's chest exploded in a column of fire followed by the sizzling squeal of immolated organs and methane excretions that sounded eerily like the wail of a bird....leaving little behind but a vacuous cavity of a corpse.
Far above on the balcony of the airship landing stood a grey-cloaked form, cowled against sight. In thick mitted hands was a dark painted bow which was soon stowed beneath the cloak as well. One mitt then lifted into the cowl, brushing along the side of the fabric hood.
"Target Eliminated"
The cloaked form turned, limping around the corner of the balcony back into the landing bay. It staggered awkwardly toward the ticketeer's booth, singing softly to itself....
"~Raise your hands high...
Young brothers and sisters,Â
There's a world's worth of work and a need for you.
Oh, a change is coming, feel these doors now closing in.
Is there no world for tomorrow, if we wait for today?
Bye, bye world. Or will our hope still hold ooooon?~"
"Never tell the secret, never refuse an order. If you do, he'll come for you....and when you hear The Raven singing, it's all over."
What a colossal waste of time and energy.
