[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/FjpfGW4.png[/img][/center]

Blue robes, hemmed with gold and a face guarded by a beaked mask hauled themselves forth onto the stone. Great steel talons, weapons and instruments both, that covered the figure’s hands scraped at the floor in a slow flex and then a flurry of motion as it pushed itself up. The figure remembered the hunters. Had only it escaped from the darkness, then perhaps it might have taken this moment as one of respite, but it was not. There where others, and if they had escaped, then so too could the hunters. It had to move, it had to run, had to flee before they caught it.

They rose, and as they did so a pendant around their neck caught the light and shone back with a pale cold distant light brighter than a mere reflection. The figure stumbled to it's knees once more as visions and sensations assailed it's mind, too numerous and dense to comprehend (but always the birds, oh the birds, they hounded it still!) until after an age that lasted a heartbeat it saw the end: the sight of the pendant, shining bright the light of moon and endless stars high, high above and the rush of elation and power that came with that moment.  

It gasped, awakening for a second time in the same room. A clawed hand grasped for the pendant that it had not seen but now knew all to well was there, pulling it up before her. The pale light still shone, weaker now, from a sapphire held within a crescent moon of purest sliver. The front of the arch was studded with the anchors of a framework that threatened to build over the gem, while the reverse held runes, letters and words in minute script. Some seemed to be nonsense, letters arranged in meaningless unpronounceable words. Somewhere worn and gone. A rare few were wholly alien, and yet they stimulated the mind in fascinating and maddening ways. The only thing that stood out among the words that it could understand was the word:

[color=DeepSkyBlue]”L-Luna”[/color] 

A voice came from behind the beaked mask as it read the word. A woman's voice, wizened with experience and wisdom now long since lost. The figure grasped the pendant tight in it’s hand, squeezing it in its grasp, causing sparks and currents of lighting to pulse and sputter across the steel gauntlet, before suddenly letting go.  

She had what she needed.

Luna stood and turned to face the pool and the strangers that had emerged from it as well of blood, her posture slightly hunched, her claws held at her side, fidgeting in restless agitation. She could see their faces. All but one, who seemed to have risen first, who was clad in purple and black, with bandages around her limbs and a white mask protecting her face. She held a cane over her shoulder, taken most likely from the armaments that littered the room, and had an almost casual air about her. A strange thing to have, when the hunters could so soon be upon them. 

Then she spoke, in words as strange and foreign.

[color=DeepSkyBlue]”I am afraid I do not speak your tongue, child”[/color] Luna replied to the stranger, and then asked [color=DeepSkyBlue]”Pray tell, do you speak mine?”[/color]