Forces Beyond Control
@lord-of-dawn
Through the gloom and vapor of an underground sea, a lumbering figure appeared, a silhouette of black more akin to a boulder than human, trudging steadily through plains of barren rock. On its back was a stuffed pack and the distinct shape of a barrel, its bulk rivaling that of its carrier. The hem of dark robes fluttered to the breeze of its long, heavy strides, each step a thud stirring a cloud of sand. A wide-rimmed hat obscured its face from view. Armored forearms peeked from the folds of its cloak, long, gloved digits curled around the straps of its cargo.
Ozen the Immovable walked alone. She traveled for Idofront, where the sovereignty of another ruled.
Bondrewd the Novel, the Lord of Dawn - a name Orth had not known until his unannounced emergence as a White Whistle. Ozen was in the middle of a mission when it happened, and once she returned, a bag of loot in tow, the whole city was buzzing with rumour and speculation. Not one to ever care about such things, she kept to herself. The lack of information on this man was curious, but White Whistles were private creatures. Ozen saw no reason to seek the man out for no justifiable reason.
Lyza alone was a handful enough. She didn’t need any more White Whistles in her life.
However, when the open invitation to visit Idofront became widespread news, Ozen once again found her intrigue piqued. Her perfect excuse came with a request from the Delvers Association: scope out the man and his operation. She was their best candidate. She was undeniably mighty, but her temper wasn’t run on a short fuse like Lyza. Ironically, she was also the most social compared to Srajo and Wakuna. Thus, they asked for her aid, and who was she to refuse an executive order when it suited her interest?
Stopping at the top of a hill, Ozen surveyed the Forward Operating Base. What a peculiar sight. Even within the Netherworld, it was singular, a wash of light illuminating the otherwise dull and dreary Sea of Corpses. There was no doubt in her mind that Bondrewd has already spotted her. She expected to be seen, making no effort to hide her approach. Stealth has never been her forte. However, for one holding within her the strength of one-hundred-and-twenty-thousand men, the Unmovable Lord had no reason for tricks.
Firm, unwavering, relentless, a fixed point - she stood as an anchor in an ever-shifting sea, untouched by time and the people that traversed within it.