The shaman strolled through the forest as he had done for over a century. He knew every tree, every leaf, every bush and every flower along the way – at least the ones that were within a few miles of his home. The sun was bright, the sky clear and crisp, and the sounds of nature surrounded him as he walked, his mind completely at peace. This was -home-, secluded from the dangers of the world, deep within the forest. His people lived high-up in the<i>Escara</i>trees and generally left the activities of the other races play out beneath them, beneath their notice.<br/><br/>But a shaman's duty was the safety of his village. This meant that he must journey on foot quite often to survey the surroundings, ever-wary of any possible threat to their land. His father had always told him that, 'keeping your head in the clouds is the same as sticking it in the sand – only upside down.' This shaman would not make the mistake of accepting ignorance and whatever fate planned to deal to him and his people.<br/><br/>His feet took him beyond the borders of his people, yet he knew not why. Some intrinsic desire led him further without pause, his feet and his walking-staff not slowing his pace in the slightest as he entered an area of the forest less familiar to him. Still, it was the forest, it was nature – and he had a close bond with both. His trepidation of visiting areas he hadn't in so long swiftly turned to curiosity, for he was one of the most curious of his people. Gone was the worry of what was ahead, replaced now by an eagerness to find out what waited for him -out there-. As if to accentuate his point, he heard a sound and glanced upward – an eagle hunting for its breakfast soared over head, feathers completely white from wingtip to wingtip.<br/><br/>Strange, the shaman thought – a white eagle had not been seen in these parts for many decades...<br/><br/>He sifted through his memories in an instant – yes – the direction he now walked would lead him to the small-folk, the -<i>pixxais</i>-, a tiny creature that was more a nuisance than a threat, especially in large numbers. Still, they were creatures of the forest, and therefor not a danger to him unless he provoked them unwisely. How long had it been since he had seen one? A decade? Maybe more? It was difficult to tell, though he pondered it for several minutes as his feet carried him ever onward.<br/><br/>Soon, or perhaps it may have been hours, his feet carried him through a last stand of trees and abruptly onto the shore of a lake. It was beautiful – azure blue waters rippling in the soft breeze, sunlight reflecting off its surface like a second sun shattered into a million pieces. He smiled – such a serene sight always filled his heart with inspiration. He tilted his head back, the sun shining on his face and the feathers of his body as he spread his arms out to either side, the warmth comforting him. He closed his eyes so as not to be blinded, and basked in the rays of the heavenly orb.<br/><br/>Moments passed – or perhaps it was hours – and the sun's warmth was suddenly stolen away. He opened his eyes to see what was the matter, and was surprised to see that he still stood by the lake and the sun was setting, its warmth slowly fading to be replaced by a cool, fell breeze. The shaman turned his head and saw to his left, not much farther down the shoreline, there were -people-. Not people like his kin, nor the usual tree-folk or the<i>pixxais</i>, but other people... people from -beyond-.<br/><br/>The shaman knew of such people, at least the ones described to him from the stories that had been passed down to him by his father and his father's father. The people from -beyond- were not to be trusted. They were dangerous, unpredictable, cruel and selfish. Their only use for the forest was to profit from it, regardless of the damage they might cause or the lives they might trample. The shaman had always wondered about these warnings – surely even amongst the people from beyond, there were exceptions? Those who would embrace and protect the forest, rather than destroy it?<br/><br/>Curiosity got the better of him – as it often did. His feet began moving seemingly before he commanded them to do so. He walked slowly, cautiously down the shore towards the -people- he saw, his sharp eyes taking in the sight before him, his ears taking in the sounds that would reach him.<br/><br/>A small group of odd assortment was gathered there, as were a handful of the<i>pixxais</i>. The shaman remained hidden in the brush nearby, eager to see if these outlanders were wicked or peaceful.<br/><br/>The first he saw was a human female with brown hair with feathers and beads braided into it. She was lithe of body, but her chest was plump and her body seemed sturdy. She seemed young for her kind, but the shaman cold not be sure, of course, unless he were to inquire directly. The shaman had met a few humans over his long life, yet this was by far the most appealing one he had seen.<br/><br/>Next was a taller human, a male based upon his build, with hair shorter and lighter brown in color compared to the woman. His skin was lightly tanned, touched by the sun no doubt, and even from this distance the shaman noticed scars. A warrior, then, with the scars to prove it. He bore weapons, armor, and a shield. His blue eyes seemed observant and watchful.<br/><br/>After him the shaman saw a humanoid dressed in robes and a mask. The shaman tilted his head left, then right, eyes blinking as he rapidly tried to assess what this creature was. Quills on top of his head, like hair, made the shaman think first of a porcupine or hedgehog – but that didn't seem to make much sense. This being's feet and hands ended in claw-like appendages, which only made the shaman more curious. But for now, the being would remain a mystery.<br/><br/>Next, the shaman's eyes almost passed over the presence of the small creature gathered with this group. It was a fox-man, a vulpari! The shaman smiled – he had heard many stories about these people, and had always wanted to meet one. Orange-white fur patterns matched everything the shaman had heard about the vulpari, the creature's light green eyes shiny and mindful. Wide ears topped his head, and from what the shaman could see, the vulpari almost seemed friendly in appearance. But of course, as the shaman had learned over his life, looks could be very deceiving.<br/><br/>The next creature the shaman beheld was humanoid as well, and seemed almost shy by comparison to the others. He stood off to the side, as if trying to avoid being visible altogether. At first glance he looked almost human – or perhaps -was- human at one time. His nose was gone, leaving two long slits in its place. Skin was missing in places, and the coloration didn't seem quite... right. With spine ridges and rot in some places, the best guess the shaman could make is that this was a Ramen, another creature that the shaman had only ever read about.<br/><br/>The shaman's eyes were then drawn to the next figure – another that he did not recognize immediately. She had skin the color of ash, and a pair of horns that were not symmetrical in nature. Blood-red hair fought to conceal feline ears that topped a wiry, slender body. Her hands and feet ended in clawed-like appendages, much like the shaman's, and her arms bore the sign of black scales interlocked with black fur. A tail whipped about her lower body, as well. She wore no clothing on her upper body, baring her breasts and tattoos for the shaman's eyes to see, and a sizable collection of jewelry adorned her body. The shaman's head tilted left and right again, perplexed by this person's appearance.<br/><br/>The last creature he saw was a human woman, in some ways similar to the first. This one had longer hair and darker eyes, with sharp features that made her stand out to the eye. She wore black robes, flowing now with the gentle, cool breeze that blew across the lake, and occasionally the robes around her neck would part enough to reveal the presence of an amulet of silver and emerald. Her gray eyes seemed to possess cunning, and the shaman had a feeling that underestimating her – in any way – would be a mistake.<br/><br/>The<i>pixxais</i>seemed angry, agitated – perhaps these outlanders had trespassed on their land, or otherwise caused harm to their domain? If so, the shaman should have simply turned to leave the outlanders to their fate, but something compelled him to remain and watch. The<i>pixxais</i>had begun chanting, all of them speaking at once....<br/><br/><i><span style="color: Olive">Treachery is indeed the highest abomination, the sickest invention of man. But unlike you would like to think, oh powerful ashen one. You are not long to live without someone to side by you over this land. He who conquers all, and carries all the coins on his side, will leave this forest bald and ripped of it's former pride. We know already that we cannot stay daughters of the wicked for long, for the future has been told and written in stone.<br/>
<br/>
The day will come that you wished to be our goddess, that day will be dread upon your wis'. You will need the power of thousand and the will of the great, to beat the true enemy that no longer lingers and wait. And do not believe for a single passage of time, that our words be lies, the words of mine. The day will come upon you soon, that you had wished to leave your immortality before the next moon. This be not a warning for only your two ears oh ashen one, it be for here in this forest, for everyone. </span></i><br/><br/>The shaman blinked as he heard the words, echoing in his mind. Then he blinked again as the outlanders all turned to face him where he stood, one by one. They simply stood there looking at him with expectant eyes, as if waiting for something...<br/><br/>* * *  * *<br/><br/>Dal'tek awoke with a start, the vision fresh in his mind. He sat up quickly, his nose sniffing, his eyes darting about his hut. It had been a powerful vision, one of the most vivid he had ever had. 'Sometimes the Mother speaks to us in whispers,' his father had once told him, 'And sometimes... she shouts.' Father had been referring to a terrible storm that had passed through the area many years previously, ravaging a large swathe of the forest to the south, but over the years Dal'tek had seen his father's words as more of a metaphor.<br/><br/>And in his mind, the 'shout' of the vision was heard loud and clear.<br/><br/>“On'tar,” he called out, and within a few moments, the reed flap door of his hut was pulled aside, and a young aviari stood in the doorway.<br/><br/>“Yes, master?” he asked. He had dark forest-green feathers, and equally as green eyes as he looked to Dal'tek for instructions.<br/><br/>“Go forth and fetch your two brothers. Tell them to arm themselves and attend me at once. We're going below, and then...” he paused, remembering the vision, “And then we're going for a walk.”<br/><br/>“Yes, master,” the young aviari said, nodded and turned to leave. Dal'tek rose to his feet and quickly gathered his things. Much of what he did, he did so out of instinct, as his mind was occupied with the vision, doing his best to remember it all, lest it fade as it did sometimes. Most importantly, the message at the end... it sounded like a warning.<i>“This be not a warning for only your ears, oh ashen one, it be for here in this forest, for everyone”.<br/>
</i><br/>And 'everyone' surely included the aviari.<br/><br/>Even if Dal'tek was wrong, he had to make sure. Most of his visions had come to pass over the years, and the ones that hadn't he was sure simply hadn't come to pass -yet-. In his eyes, it was simply a matter of time. But this vision... so strong, so clear, and involving outlanders? He needed to be sure.<br/><br/>Within minutes he was ready to go, and he stepped out of his hut into the bright morning sun just rising in the east. The sky was clear and crisp, and off to his right he could see and hear On'tar's brothers approaching. They were two large lads, much taller than Dal'tek. Then again, almost everyone in the village was taller than Dal'tek, who was short for his kind.<br/><br/>“You summoned us, shaman?” One of the two brothers asked. Each stood well over eight feet tall, with wiry limbs that were deceptively strong, covered in feathers of gray and russet. They each wore only their leather loincloths and bore large, deadly spears. Each of them moved their free hands to their chests, palms flat and talons spread, then extended their hands toward the shaman in greeting.<br/><br/>“Joo'tan, Pal'kar... thank you for coming on such short notice. I need an escort down below, and on a walk that will take us a ways from the village. It should not take long, we should return before night fall.<br/><br/>Each of the two nodded towards him in understanding, and seeing this, Dal'tek turned and walked towards the nearest ledge – and stepped off of it. His arms spread wide as he fell, hurtling toward the earth at frightening speed. The homes of the aviari were high up off the ground, nearly two hundred feet in some of the most ancient trees found anywhere in the forest. But as the ground rushed up to swallow him, Dal'tek suddenly slowed, setting down gently on the forested floor.<br/><br/>Moments later, the two hulking brothers settled onto the ground beside him, smiles on their faces. Flying up was always so much work... but flying downward was -fun-. Dal'tek gave them each an approving smile, then turned and headed along the path leading toward the lake in his dreams.<br/><br/>They hadn't gone far before Dal'tek heard something and looked up into the sky, the eyes of the two brothers also rising to see the source of the sound.<br/><br/>“A white eagle!” gasped Joo'tan. “It is an omen! A blessing from the Mother!” he said.<br/><br/>Dal'tek sighed and nodded, not so enthusiastic. “Let us hope so.”<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>