Hamel Della Astrologia
Outskirts of Fuyuki, Swamp
Outskirts of Fuyuki, Swamp
As the sun fell and the moon rose, pale beams of light refracting off the still waters of the growing marsh, a multitude of colors filled the sky. A miraculous sign that shined life into the swamp.
Yet, like a candle thrown into a bonfire, it's life was quickly snuffed away, only lasting a half minute before disappearing into the dark expanses of the sky. The ephemeral beauty of such a sight belied it's true nature. It was not a sign of good fortune, but an ill portent. It was the beginning of carnage, of future massacre and of death.
Underneath the watchful moon, sat upon a gnarled stump with head hanging, Hamel Della Astrologia did not muse upon this omen. Here, in his swamp, it's status of that of a tomb was once again reinforced by the death of his expectations.
A slow, shaky hand made its way up to his face.
Shock and disbelief, along with some elements of disgust and horror stretched across his face as he witnessed what could only be described as a gross extermination of vermin via bag of felines.
There was a wailing of pain, a sick cracking of bones, and a general disregard for the ethical treatment of cats.
The last one was not one of major concern, but the stains left from the impact of his Servant launching his sack at any moving rat was grotesque and sickening. Should he have expected this? Arguably Hamel should have. His servant had a strange idea of how to go about things, and even though he trusted his servants judgement, he was rethinking his choice in doing so.
Capturing cats was a strange action to take, and going to exterminate rats was another one, but then to throw a sack of captured cats as a method of extermination rather than releasing them so they may fulfill nature's duty was something almost tear inducing.
It was infuriating to know that there was reason for his servants madness and that it would most likely lead to victory. And as Lancer threw his Anti-Vermin Conceptual weapon around, he could only cringe.
Dejectedly, Hamel stood up onto his feet and simply walked to the nearest tree.
'Willow,' he noticed absentmindedly. Finger raised, he began to engrave upon its surface a symbol, ᚄ. A pulse of magical energy entered its frame, its branches letting out a groan as it shifted and uprooted itself, taking on a human like structure as it began to move.
As it moved past its master, Hamel closed his eyes and breathed in the still air.
There was still much to do, while he had made many a preparation a week before he had to limit his scope to an isolated part of Fuyuki lest he catch the attention of the three great families. Now, in proper war time he could expand much more aggressively.
Snapping himself out of his musing, Hamel went onward to the next available surface to write on, engraving runes upon any available surface in preparation for any foolhardy person.