We who are the stars
We shine brightly upon you all
Our silent music lost in cold lights
For those who hear their melody
Hear prophecy and portent
Ware the coming of:
A wanderer.
-Symphony of Stars
Frozen, familiar heavens twinkled vaguely through the holes in the water stained ceiling of the Cathedral. Once had stood an entire town, now there were only ruins that served as the Moblyn garrison, with the Cathedral as the barracks chief among these. On a hewn throne, carved out of an Altar to the Three, sat a creature quite unlike the hobbled soldiers about him, and it did not look happy… Well actually it did, sort of. The face was locked in a skeletal rictus portraying macabre laughter. However the eyes, two pinpricks of azure light appearing vague and rather bored flared to an angry violet as the droning of the Moblyn before the seated figure carried on.
The seated figure looked very much like a stalfose, but with a taller and lither frame, its bones yellowed with age and missing most of the lower jawbone. The ivory and armor body was wrapped in a tatter of faded green rags, and the twin lights hovering in the hollow sockets that passed for its eyes appeared quite intent. They leveled that angry violet gaze upon the Moblyns, whom unlike the rest standing guard to the sides of the altar chamber, were cowering in clear terror directly before the seated figure.
"So in other words… you failed…." Rasped the dead and dry voice like a handful of knuckle bones tossed rattling into the wind. The broken jaw did not move at all with the words, but those angry violet eyes quivered and pulsed in tune to each note. "So… what am I to do with you all now? What use are you to me if you cannot stop even one invader to my premises?" Hissed the skeletal voice, seeming to form the bones of words, but unable to give them the full voice like the living might.
One of the Moblyns moaned, and its comrade, seeming sterner than the rest smacked the moaner and mumbled something whining and unintelligible to the enthroned figure. Whatever was said, it seemed to placate the figure at first, "Alright… fair enough," Rasped the seated figure, raising a bony hand to the skeletal jaw and seeming to consider the new information. The Moblyns seemed to all but sag into each other with relief, as a single skeletal finger scraped with a grating sound over the broken jaw.
"However…," grated the seated, raggedy figure, "I only needed one of you to make the report," As those words dropped out in a vehement and dangerously quiet hiss, the cool azure eyes flared gold briefly and three of the four surviving Moblyns dropped dead, their faces appearing to twist into visages of mortal terror, hearts giving way. "The rest were of no use, and were better off dying in that cursed forest. None may fail me twice…" The eyes were the cold azure again, watching the sole remaining Moblyn being not of the guards, "Remember that," Grated the seated figure, "Dismissed."