a starter for @valistheanshield They said obsession was a ballad that only madmen could dance to; that only a lunatic would set themselves ablaze in the fires of devotion to fuel the fetid tune of collapsed reason and corrupted morals. And, even past the eleventh hour, where nothing but ash remained, the broken still fettered through on hands and knees to find even a single cinder. Thou, tarnisher of the Mothercrystal, heretic and liar! Lay your life on the altar, purge from from Haearann, nay, all of Valisthea of your blight! The night was still in Lostwing. Over the years, it had been one Genesis' favorite hunting grounds, albeit one that only bore prey once in a while. It was difficult not to admire the sweeping hills of vineyard and the marvel of human ingenuity to transform what many believed to be a crash site of an airship into something equally, if not more impressive. New, from old. Of course, scenery was only a part of his appreciation. The lull and warmth of this cozy, far-off place was a false sense of security for his quarry in the past. It was like plucking diseased hatchlings from a nest, sparing the world of their polluted misuse of aether. Bearers thought they were safe here. Sanbreque was more lenient with the scourge in their land than was Haearann. And with sympathizers like that man Quinten, the miserable fools came trickling in nicely overtime. And now, once more, he silently offered his thanks to the Lord Chief Justice for having pointed him to this place. But his thanks to the Mothercrystal was never uttered. It felt bitter, too bitter, yet here he was, on another hunt. But no Bearer would suffice. No. No, Imreann had made it clear that something as lowly as that was not even worth consideration. No matter how loyal. No matter how much had been done in the name of purity. Imreann's only exception was Jill-- but she was a Dominant. She was a weapon that served the Orthodoxy enough that it outweighed her sin. Perched in the cross of shadows, high within the rooftops of this marvel of a hamlet, Genesis waited. Every movement warranted his complete attention, sharp eyes flickering to follow every villager as they went about their business. He listened. He knew he was close. He could feel it-- He... had always been able to feel it when a foul channeler of magic was near. The inn? The forge? His hand laid on the hilt of his sword, taut.
"Oh, pitspawn of the infernal plane... where do you hide your flame?"
