The young Orcish child awoke in frenzy, his dark green skin glistening with beads of sweat. The elders of the Clan told him that visions were natural for shamans-to-be, though unprecedented at the young age of seven. Some said it was a sign—seven was the number of God, just as six was the number of the Beast. Why, though…why of such horrid things? Of blood and battle, merciless slaughter?
Something deep in his gut seemed to move, anxious, laughingly. He gazed at his skin…his visions told him enough to hate its tone and color. He shivered, feeling trapped in his own hide, and rose to his feet. As a grandson of Ra'mish and a descendent of Shinsen, he had to keep strong and save face. A new day waited him in Un'Goro Crater.
He walked to the Fields with a sickle and a knife. Well, 'field' was a term the Blazehound Clan had given to this part of the Crater. It was more of a heavily-wooded jungle, filled with useful plants and the occasional crystal, which the Clan used to crest their ornate weapons used for traditional ceremonies. Of course, in addition to such treasures hidden in the Fields, there were beasts of untold cruelty and image. The boy grimaced as his eyes fell to his hands. Not that his broken form was any better than theirs. At least they were pure of corruption…
His eyes snapped to the job at hand, and his body snapped behind a root as one such creature passed him by. The boy's eyes showed no fear. He had seen worse in his visions. Though his eyes had seen nothing beyond the Crater, Ra'mish's eyes had.
The boy, looking for a threat and finding none, rushed at the glowing red crystal resting upon the cliffs on the other side of the Crater. Using his dull-sided bone knife, an old family relic supposedly passed down by Ro'gash himself, he crisply cut off a few select shards and placed them in the sack that lay at his waist. Despite the flat edge of his knife, crystals were easy to cut as long as you could notice the 'fault lines.'
His eyes flicking in each direction, he cut a few herbs from the ground and turned to rush to the roots of the tree that was the center of the Crater…and stared into a grinning, toothed mouth.
He could barely breathe. Every aspect of this horrid creature sickened him. Its pale, yellow hide, its pink underbelly, its burning red eyes, its wretched spines… the creature reared up its neck, and in a split second of tension, he watched as its head seemed to block out the little sunlight that breached the lofty trees' leaves…and then it crashed to eye-level in a bloodthirsty roar.
The boy drew his knife on instinct, and his sickle as well. He began to panic. He didn't know any spells. Hell, shamans didn't learn how to use two weapons until they were well into their path. But here he stood, with useless weapons, without spells, orc versus beast. He took a deep, sharp breath, and rushed.
His enemy was not expecting that. It reared back in surprise but quickly lowered its head once more, and snapped the orc's sickle away, taking his arm with it. Screaming in pain, the boy dropped his knife. His foe closed for the kill, head lowered, stubby arms poised, back arched, legs pounding through the Crater's black soil. Shinsen lifted his arm above his head palm up in instinct, as if to defend himself with merely one limb. In that moment, his bag of shards fell to the floor, crashing against the dull edge of the knife. In that moment, red light shined. In that moment, mana poured from the crystals like water from the rock. And in that moment, the boy did something unseen for over fifty years.
A flash of light. A crackle of electricity. A moan of pain...and the vile beast fell at the boy's small feet, and slowly sank into the tar. Panting and confused, he picked up his sack, leaving the crystal shards there, and bounded home. His mother would scream at him for crushing the crystals, but he'd had enough for one day.
As the boy approached the gate, he slowed to a walk, and tried to catch his breath, but the blood loss was making it impossible. The boy clutched his arm, his right arm, his good arm…or where it used to be. He stumbled, weak, to his mother, the Clan's healer-shaman. He collapsed at his mother's feet, hearing her voice fade away slowly…
"Shinsen…? Shinsen…!"