Skill: Seer/Blood Moon

Nothing good would come of this night.

In fact, the past week as a whole had seen each sunrise growing weaker and dimmer, as if the sun struggled to penetrate the ever-increasing darkness that threatened to swallow the world.

Today it had not risen at all. From morning - or what should have been morning - until dusk, the day had been illuminated with little more than a soft red haze, plunging the land of Mythris into a shadow realm. As night fell, the deepening dark melted into every shadow until all was the color of pitch. If not for the red glow of the wrathful moon overhead, there would have been no light at all to guide the mortals who lived here; as it was, Dimas could still hardly see three feet ahead of himself.

Хоуту, проведи меня через эту ночь, (Houtu, lead me through this night) he rumbled, uttering a low prayer. Здесь нет никакой святости. (There is no holiness here)

This land was cursed. From the moment he stepped foot upon its foul, foreign soil, Dimas had felt a great unease stirring in his soul; the Five were largely absent from this world, although he could feel their presence dimly as though peering through hazy glass.
The Pentacle waited in gentle silence - for they must be brought to this place.

Dimas would call them.

Lifting his head he sang a song of prayer, his low tones weaving haunting threads through the surrounding darkness.

A lonely song cut through the night. It was low and weighed heavily. A heaviness only lesser so than the darkness which overtook the entire world they knew. With the only light offered being the dark, bloodied dim glow of a blood moon.

Journey had seen them before. Many times, in fact. But nothing so stark as this. Nothing so engulfing as this. Yet Journey in her time being born to this world, had learned that this place was far different from so many others she had tread. Filled with foreign gods and magic, all which was unstable as fuck.

Creeping closer to the source of prayer, she was certain even with the powerful eyes she held in this body, it would be nothing compared to the sight she had held as a bird. She tread lightly, so as to not tread too closely. Halló?

Certainly, a red moon was odd. No daylight was odd. It was no odder than the visions that plagued her at night, or the prophecies that sometimes alighted behind her eyelids – in truth, sometimes the things that happened in the corporeal world were far easier to digest than the things her mind could conjure, at its best and its worst. She could look upward and

see the redness, bask in its light. This was real, and it was a pleasure that all could see and experience it, not just her. not only her. not her.

She did not believe the lands were cursed. This was the way of things with the greater gods. They were large personalities with eons of history behind their decisions. Who was she, but a young nymph, to question the workings of the great universe beyond? It was somewhat silly to find an old man yelling curses to the sky, as if he had any significance in its workings. A man who questioned, but did not believe.

Ampoule simpered, a smile that could only be brandished by one looking upon another they knew was cursed. The siren tittered a laugh, understanding his tongue and choosing to respond in common. No holiness? the banded women questioned openly, gliding onto the scene in darkness as if she was born amongst it. You do not think this holy?

Her lilac-floral gaze looked over to the other wolf who had joined, shrugging a shoulder as if to say can you get a load of this guy?

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