The forming of the counter-culture (open)

[Wulfric]

Rumors abounded, lies flew, fires burned, it was a normal day in the lands; yet, he could never remember it being as disturbing as it has been in latest leave of the lands.

He sat upon the burned carcass of the old meeting tree. It had been severed at the trunk, and the whole area had been burned. It occured to him that this had no doubt resulted of war, resulted of those with no respect with the old agreed upon neutral grounds.

He could not understand it, once beautiful and vast lands, taken and ravished and scorched in the turn of a single war. He could understand the hesitation of the native lizardfolk of the lands, and knew why one rarely saw them as of late. He felt the same as them, he himself bein an earthenbred creature.

Wars would happen where greed and injustice persevered, it was why he took command of Foul from Laustrad. There was no other way to make right the wrongs performed by these rash creatures. But there always came a time where he would have to escape, return to his native heritage, and honor his mother and father, and their dreams.

This, was one of those times, but, having been so near to his keep lately, he found many stories that tried to draw him from his reverations.

Hypocrisies were many, wars were savage, and injustice was ever greater upon the lands.

And then there was this Oracle figure, one who was rumored to want Wulfric himself to return, though to what grand design and purpose, few knew.

So you are here, I knew my nose was correct.

He removed his heavy hood from his head, looking up into the deep blue eyes before him with his own of crimson red, smiling slightly.

So you know of Caleal marching upon Foul then?

He nodded his head, the thoughts of what the girl was aiming at running through his head.

Do you know also, that Oafs also marched upon Foul just last evening; when Caleal is supposed to be fighting Foul in a "fair" war?

He raised an eyebrow, his crimson eyes piercing into the girl's body.
That I did not know. At the behest of this Oracle, as they call him?
The Ciaran cannot determine that as of yet. Though, they looking into the matter as we speak.
Very good Casse. Have you learned the art of the pen yet?
Yes, I have. Shall I gather a scroll and prepare to write?

He nodded, and watch the girl as she ran off to the keep to retrieve what she needed to write his words. Smiling softly, he removed a dagger from the sheath on his wrist and slit the wrist that carried it; pouring the blood onto the tree that he sat upon, muttering a low gutteral incantation that turned it crimson red, it's limbs becoming sharp as the finest spears.

I am ready Ra'sktha!
Good Casse, I want you to write exactly as I speak. Understood?

The girl nodded as he resheathed the dagger and motioned for her to sit upon the tree between two sets of spiked limbs.

To whomever is reading this, for it matters not the name, just the spirit within;

The height of hypocracy has been met. It has come to my attention that this person calling himself the Oracle has come to the lands and spoken to leaders, calling to those of likemind. Telling them that he recieved this gift from the gods of old, visions of the lands and the tyranny that flows within.

I say to you, the men and the woman running about claiming to the gods of old are nothing more than mere mortals. However, the gods of old do not exist, for if they did, they would have surely smited these pathetic mortals by now and rid us of their presence in a display of power.

The powers that your sorcerers and mages draw upon is what remains of their essence, and the powers that flow through the lands themselves.

Still this oracle tries to draw you into believe them, believing their message, when there is no message to be held. These visions he holds is nothing more then what each of us face each day in our memories, in our vision, in our daily lives.

Who is he to tell you what to do, what path to follow in the way of "right"? And so he calls to him those of simple mind, those that would find themselves swayed, to form into one unit, to combat these tyrannies and transgressions well all know to happen. Then commits them himself, all in the name of spreading his message. The message that our long lost gods and goddess supposedly are trying to give to us.

So I call to anybody that knows, truly knows, that our beloved gods have long since died, and all that is left are those that try to possess our wills, to stand up as one. Become a body, and combat those that would enslave us to theirselves.

I will await any who wish to join me at the tree of blood in the forests of my homelands. It is the old neutral grounds, something all of us once treasured.

Ra'sktha, Wulfric, The Demon Wolf Master of Foul

It is writ as you spoke Ra'sktha.
Good, have the scribes send copy it and send it out throughout the lands. I care not who's hands it falls under, let those who will, come. See that it is sent Casse, I will await anybody here.
As you wish.

He smiled as the girl left, shifting into his natural form and crouching upon the now crimson red tree, his crimson eyes wathchin his surrounds for any who might come.

[LordSaberStryke]

A messanger came running into Saberstryke's tent, and handed the scroll over to him. He broke the seal and began to read, it was from Wulfric. He had enough of this "oracle" and wanted to form a coalition of his own. It was clear what needed to be done, even if it wasn't nessacary, it had to be done.

Dala I'm leaving to convene with Wulfric, he wishes to form an alliance of his own against this so-called "oracle". You know what must be done?

Of course Saber, I will have Divebomb prepared for your journey.

Dala left and had the servants prepare Saberstryke's mount. Saberstryke emerged from his tent and got on Divebomb.

Dala handle things on this end, this meeting is going to get interesting I feel.

Dala bowed and stepped back as Divebomb flapped his wings and took off towards the neutral grounds where the meeting was taking place. Saberstryke began to prepare himself for what is to come, he figured anyone and everyone could show. Such a melting pot could over flow and the neutral gounds wouldn't be a neutral site anymore.

Saberstryke was approaching the neutral grounds, he had never been here, but knew its place. Wulfric was always the one meeting here with other leaders. Now it appears it will carry its purpose one more time if not for the last time. The grounds as he was told was a land of such beauty that no man could ever destroy. Unfornetly the recent wars had spread this far, and destroyed the beauty that was. Saberstryke felt a sadness for what had happened, again the planet has paid for the wars of man. Saberstryke had Divebomb circle and float down to where Wulfric was at, near a tree of blood. Divebomb landed softly, for a dragon, and Saberstryke dismounted and walked towards his old friend.

Saberstryke waved his hand at Wulfric and said:

Well old friend, it appears we have come to agreement on something. We both dislike this "oracle", and I must say hanging around you has made me believe if not a little bit that maybe the gods of old are truly gone. I guess I should have known they would have given me the one thing I wanted back by now. Saberstryke hanged his head a bit and sighed, but as far as curses or magic goes it could be worse. Anyway I have read your message and I suppose I shouldn't have to say this but lets be formal for a second. FOUL is behind your movement all the way. As always where you lead, FOUL will follow even to the depths of the inferno.

Saberstryke laughed, well maybe just the out skirts, I hear they have nice property by the lava lake thats pretty cheep.