Post by Master William on Feb 16, 2010 13:05:34 GMT -5
Many years ago, when the Alliance was still young and rebellion was still just a whisper on the summer breeze, a man met an old lady in the street. He walked past her at first, noticing nothing unusual about her, barely noticing her at all. But as he walked by, she turned to stare past him, and said these words.
"You are Cordan Grey, he who walks the path of vengeance and sees nothing but hate for your enemies. You are brave and strong willed, but a dark future lies ahead for you. You will die."
This shocked him, causing him to stop in his tracks.
"And who are you to say such things?" he said, turning around to face the old woman. Her figure looked old and decrepit, her back bent, her knees knocking, and her arms shaking. But something about her face gave him an uneasy feeling. Like she was hiding something. Something important. Something, he wanted to find out.
"I am a shaman," she said plainly, holding up her walking stick and giving it a shake. Three small skulls hung from it and they jangled as she shook them, knocking each other about. She gave a little chuckle at his look of confusion and sarcasm.
He gave a sigh. "I'm sorry my lady but I don't think a woman as old as you would fit among our group. I'm so sorry, but I just can't help you." He gave a bow. "Good day." And he spun around again to leave.
But again her crow-like melodic voice turned him around again.
"It is not me who needs help, it is them. And it is you."
"Who's them? And what could you possibly do for me?"
The shaman shook her staff again, the jangling wringing in his ears, the eye sockets peering at him unblinking. A crooked smile crossed the ladies face, and she motioned for him to follow. Curiosity peeked, he followed her into the doorway of a mudhut built out of treewood and pinesap. It stood like a castle among the other falling huts, every piece of wood somehow finding the best place to fit.
"What is it you wish to show me old shaman?" he demanded, his curiosity slowly taking over.
BANG!
Out of nowhere, staff, head, thump, pain, darkness...
He awoke to the darkness surrounding the shining moon, feeling a lump forming on his head.
"What happened to me?" he rubbed his head, feeling some strange powder on his hair. He sniffed it, and sneezed.
"The shaman lady...what did she do to me?" He looked around for the hut, or the shaman, but found no sign of anything he remembered seeing. Just a patch of green dew soaked grass.
He sighed, and started walking.
"I guess I'll never know, though I'll have to report this to the rest of the Council."
As he reached the gate however, a faint mist covered his eyes. The world around him slowly began to disappate, and an image appeared before his eyes.
"You young Cordan Grey have been granted a gift," the image said, staring at him with empty eyes. "You will suffer no illness, fear no disease, and live forever, aging only with time itself and yet ageless like time. Your body will age until your predetermined death, at which point you will remain the same age in appearance forever."
He shuddered and tried to look away, afraid of the ghostly image before him. He tried to talk but no words came out.
"There is a prophecy involving you young Grey. Use this power well."
The image gave a cackle, like a crow about to strike its prey.
"Use it well, for I am watching..." The face of the old lady shaman consumed his waking eye, then was gone in a flash.
He trembled on the ground, hearing the voices of the guards getting closer and closer. "Sir! Sir! Are you alright Councilor Cordan?! Can you hear me Sir?" And the world went black.
"You are Cordan Grey, he who walks the path of vengeance and sees nothing but hate for your enemies. You are brave and strong willed, but a dark future lies ahead for you. You will die."
This shocked him, causing him to stop in his tracks.
"And who are you to say such things?" he said, turning around to face the old woman. Her figure looked old and decrepit, her back bent, her knees knocking, and her arms shaking. But something about her face gave him an uneasy feeling. Like she was hiding something. Something important. Something, he wanted to find out.
"I am a shaman," she said plainly, holding up her walking stick and giving it a shake. Three small skulls hung from it and they jangled as she shook them, knocking each other about. She gave a little chuckle at his look of confusion and sarcasm.
He gave a sigh. "I'm sorry my lady but I don't think a woman as old as you would fit among our group. I'm so sorry, but I just can't help you." He gave a bow. "Good day." And he spun around again to leave.
But again her crow-like melodic voice turned him around again.
"It is not me who needs help, it is them. And it is you."
"Who's them? And what could you possibly do for me?"
The shaman shook her staff again, the jangling wringing in his ears, the eye sockets peering at him unblinking. A crooked smile crossed the ladies face, and she motioned for him to follow. Curiosity peeked, he followed her into the doorway of a mudhut built out of treewood and pinesap. It stood like a castle among the other falling huts, every piece of wood somehow finding the best place to fit.
"What is it you wish to show me old shaman?" he demanded, his curiosity slowly taking over.
BANG!
Out of nowhere, staff, head, thump, pain, darkness...
He awoke to the darkness surrounding the shining moon, feeling a lump forming on his head.
"What happened to me?" he rubbed his head, feeling some strange powder on his hair. He sniffed it, and sneezed.
"The shaman lady...what did she do to me?" He looked around for the hut, or the shaman, but found no sign of anything he remembered seeing. Just a patch of green dew soaked grass.
He sighed, and started walking.
"I guess I'll never know, though I'll have to report this to the rest of the Council."
As he reached the gate however, a faint mist covered his eyes. The world around him slowly began to disappate, and an image appeared before his eyes.
"You young Cordan Grey have been granted a gift," the image said, staring at him with empty eyes. "You will suffer no illness, fear no disease, and live forever, aging only with time itself and yet ageless like time. Your body will age until your predetermined death, at which point you will remain the same age in appearance forever."
He shuddered and tried to look away, afraid of the ghostly image before him. He tried to talk but no words came out.
"There is a prophecy involving you young Grey. Use this power well."
The image gave a cackle, like a crow about to strike its prey.
"Use it well, for I am watching..." The face of the old lady shaman consumed his waking eye, then was gone in a flash.
He trembled on the ground, hearing the voices of the guards getting closer and closer. "Sir! Sir! Are you alright Councilor Cordan?! Can you hear me Sir?" And the world went black.