Prologue
Drip. Drip. Drip.
The steady rhythm of a continuous flow was the only noise to accompany the sinister silence that succeeded devastation in its truest form. The gentle patter interrupting the seemingly unnatural atmosphere was deafening in the amplification the silence brought. Like death's messenger the eerie hush foreshadowed death and destruction.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Rivulets of red dripped down the arm of a crumpled figure. Skimming the surface of the material of the sleeve, the drips coalesced to form a steady river streaming down, down past the exposed hand and the broken nails and down towards the devastated ground to join the ever increasing puddle of blood. Saturated in the blood of fallen warriors and decorated with their remains, the earth, once a proud and healthy mother, withered under their annihilation and the desecration of sacred grounds. An ambient life-force was she, the Mother weeped for her fallen children.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Drip...