<span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><strong>The Oncoming Storm</strong></span><br/><hr/><div class="floatright">(http://img820.imageshack.us/img820/1418/stormunleashedbywindrid.jpg)</div>The winds begin to swirl and howl in the aftermath of the singular lightning bolt striking the ground between the two groups facing off. The air crackles with electricity as a second and then a third bolt strikes the ground in the exact same, now charred spot on the ground. The howl of the wind continues to increase, the clouds above turning a dangerous, dark black rumbling in waves threatening to strike again.<br/><br/>The scantily-clad costumed African woman gently glides downwards from the direction in which she came, her booted feet gently resting on the ground below. Electricity dances across her dark-brown skin, her eyes glowing a solid white with an angry energy. As she speaks. Her voice deep and thunderous, echoing the rumbling above.<br/><strong><br/>"You will stand down lest you wish to feel my wrath."</strong>Another sharp rumble of thunder punctuates her statement. Every bit looking the angry goddess she sounds like. The universal translator she was given tucked neatly in her ear and hidden by the flowing locks of impossibly long starkly white hair hiding it turns her words into a guttural sounding language, similar to the one the aggressors were speaking.