[center] [color=#308014][h2]The Rise of An Ancient Hero[/h2][/color] [img]http://i.imgur.com/EslvDKR.jpg?1[/img] [img]http://www.halaqah.net/v10/artikel/divider.png[/img] The dull thrumming of what could only be identified as chanting rang through the cell which the lone woman sat in. She was Pricia, the Beast of the Forests, and was due to for an execution. She always felt that this would be how her life would come to an end. It was expected that one who could shapeshift would face persecution wherever their powers were known but never did Pricia think that the same people she save a few weeks earlier would wish to kill her. It was always the thoughts of slighted warlords and merchants whose plans were thwarted by the little girl who was no more intimidating than a little kid which led to her death. Afterall, wouldn’t a man known if nearly fifty separate villages want revenge on a girl who beat them? But, even with the unexpected way of her death coming at her, Pricia had already forgiven the people of the village and was at peace with her death. In the end, Pricia knew she would be welcomed into the Great Forest which Goethia had promised her. The cell door opened and a guard entered as timidly as a squirrel would approach a man offering food. He was obviously afraid of the woman but he had no reason to fear her for she had no reason to resist his simple directions. “G..g..get up you monster! I...i...it’s time for your execution!” The man shouted as he held his spear down towards her. If he was more calm, the spear’s tip would be pointed right at her throat but his current state made it so that it was waving all over the place. [color=6CA6CD]"Your spear is all over the place, love. If I wished to resist, I would only need to dodge what would most certainly be a missing jab. But lead that way dear, I have a meeting with my Goddess.”[/color] said Pricia as she stood up and moved towards the door. The walk of shame began down a long, dank corridor built of wood and stone. Each step was closer towards the end and a tightness in her chest nearly caused her to panic. It wasn’t the fear of death which was causing it but the realization that those who she had called friends would be hunted and killed simply due to their association with her. The blinding bright sunlight which exists at noon was the first of a very few things which the Hero would seen. Man thoughts ran through her mind as time seemingly slowed down and the officiary of her execution announced her ‘crimes’ against the people. Would she be remember as a hero or a monster when she was long gone? Who would even remember of her existence? Her family? Her Friends? Who would care to remember the history of a woman known as a monster? Goethia was her reprieve in the afterlife. She was like the mother who loved Pricia no matter what she was, who she was with, nor how she acted. There was a great sadness in her heart that she had failed, she had not brought the world to peace. Above her stood a single man dressed in all black and wearing a mask which covered all his features. He was to kill her and yet, he felt a great sadness as he looked down at the young girl who was to die. Tears welled up in his eyes which only the closest observer, Pricia included, could see.[color=#6CA6CD]”Worry not for the lives you must take but for the lives you save by taking them. It is a great sadness for hundreds to die just because one wasn’t killed. I am no exception to this matter. Take my life and show them that you are worth the title you hold of Executioner.”[/color] Pricia stated with all the kindness that the world had ever seen from her. She may have known herself as a hero but even a hero must day so that people may carry on through the world. With a single movement the blade of the executioner’s sword came down, reaving neck from body. Darkness consumed Pricia’s vision until a flash of light blinded her. She was in a forest at night populated by all the creatures. It was a true beauty and one which the young girl gladly welcomed. She sat in the top of the trees and meditated to the sound of wind. But something felt wrong. The light beyond her lids were getting darker and the wind was dying. The wind quickly became replaced by a harsh whisper. Her eyes opened to find the forest corrupted and dying, the stars gone except for one, and her body bound to the trees by vines. [h3][b]”Come back to the World of the Living Hero of Goethia.”[/b][/h3] [img]http://www.halaqah.net/v10/artikel/divider.png[/img] The young hero awoke to utter darkness and a searing pain in her neck, almost as if a fire were burning there. Such an odd dream she had while she was meditating. Yet, as she tried to sit up her head smacked against solid stone. Panic set in and all of Pricia’s control slipped away as she transformed into a large humanoid wolf and threw the stone away as she stood up. She quickly transformed back after being blinded by a bright light and looked around at her surroundings. She was in a tomb and, ancient though it was, Pricia had a feeling that this was a place she should recognize. It wasn’t until all the dust settled that she saw something which nearly stopped her heart. [i]’Here lies Sir Darian and Madam Maria of Bolgaria.’[/i] Her...her parents coffins lay right before her which meant she was in her family’s tomb. But that was impossible, she was dead and never would Goethia torture Pricia like this. It wasn’t until she looked down and saw that her clothes were crumbling as if nearly aged for thousands of years. “Hey! What was that sound?” called a voice from outside the tomb. “I don’t fracking know Jerald! We are suppose to be alone here. Ain’t nobody know where this rotting castle is otherwise.” People were in the tomb but why were they calling a rotting castle. None of this made sense but Pricia had no time to ponder any of her questions as two grave robbers walked into the room. They stopped at the sight of Pricia standing in the coffin which she was entombed in and stared at the stone slab on the floor. “Ey brother, they told legends of a woman who could shapeshift didn’t they?” said the tallest of the grave robbers, a man most likely no older than twenty-six and obviously hadn’t eaten in weeks. His brother, a rather portly and obviously drunk man, nodded in affirmation while he backed up. They were both afraid of the woman who now stood before them, knowing not that she had been died up to this point nor that she meant no harm. [color=#6CA6CD]”What...year is it?”[/color] Pricia barely eked out as her vocal cords struggled to make any sound whatsoever. [/center]