Spoiler (Move your mouse to the spoiler area to reveal the content) Show Spoiler Hide Spoiler The small settlement of rorkshire was a place one could lead a simple existence. Known only for its rich soil and abundant game, the town thrived as a hunting and farming community. Its seclusion meant that its inhabitants often could live reclusive lives, tucked far away from the problems of the world. However peace was an illusion, a deception meant to lure one to a false sense of security. And complacency was oftimes a cunning killer, masquerading as tranquility and serenity. Only to rend asunder the fabrics we hold so dear, birthing the departure of the ghost from the corporeal body. The first signs of the storm were hardly noticed, a few deaths alongside of the road. Foolishly the local populace chalked it up as a rogue attack by some wolves or other simple predators. Preferring to believe the lie over the abundantly clear truth. But the attacks did not stop, the bodies continued to pile until the reality of their dire situation dawned on them. The settlement was gripped by fear, as they sent word via horseback to the viper organization. A group of renowned monster hunters, whose members flesh had been warped and souls contorted through a vile swarthy ritual. An ambiguous and elusive practice in which young urchins become forever tainted by foul alchemy and insipid sorcery. With what little wealth they could muster, the small village could only hope it would be enough financial gain to warrant a visit. Without word they could only live in a state of fear, as paranoia-the first real symptom of their justified emotion crept over them. Obscuring their eyes from reason and logic, leaving in its place accusations and a distrust for outsiders. Merchants and other wanderers were not shunned, just watched vigilantly. For the first time the famous warm reception of the region had dissipated, giving way to an almost frigidly callous treatment of outsiders. With haste the organization (House of Vipers) dispatched a member of their flock, a powerful Matron within the order. A woman known solely as Myriah, the Apparition. A title bestowed upon her due not only to her skills, but the lack of emotion displayed on her visage. For in all of her time within the house, never once had anyone seen her smile. Just the empty picturesque face she often bore greeted them, no matter the news or situation. But it was this trait to remain level headed under stress, coupled with her unparalleled ability to sense the flow of energy that made her the perfect tool for such a job. Clad in her leather armor with sections of chainmail that clinged perfectly to her bodice she departed, boots becoming heavy with the dirt and mud of the road. For three days she walked, the abnormal composition of her body requiring little rest, food or water to support her health. No matter how many towns she passed, the reaction was always the same. With eyes of fright they peered at her through stained glass. Locking their doors and shielding their children from the piercing gaze of a golden devil, of a viper. A title her kind inherited due to their abnormally hued and fiery eyes. The one discerning feature that set them apart from the other species of the realm. “The simplest stable boy is more likely to receive respect and gratitude, than one of my blood.” She purred, as defiantly golden eyes maintained their current focus. Yet in her words lingered a revelation, a fragment into the battered psyche of the devil. For despite her prowess, despite her unholy and unnatural origin’s. Underneath the armor, vibrant eyes and cold expression. Could be found a beating, human heart. That longed to be loved, appreciated and perhaps accepted. For though the flesh could be changed and destroyed…The mind and heart proved far more resilient. On the fourth day she rested for two hours, waking within the damp and dark cave that had been her bed. Stepping through the gaped moss covered jaws of her shelter, her eyes narrowed as they adjusted to the light from the sun. Strands of raven hair swayed in the gentle breeze, as heavy sigh parted from luscious lips. Without further delay she continued, making her way through the rocky valley and woods to the town. That afternoon the locals went about the same routines. Trying to forget for a moment the horrors facing them. But all that changed once she was spotted in the distance by the militia sentries. With curious and terrified gaze they watched, as several folk ran about the settlement bearing news of the golden devils appearance. Curiosity overtook them, as entire stores, inns and pubs emptied to watch as she traversed the dirt road of their village. Never before had they seen one of her blood, she appeared human but those burning eyes of gold. There was something eerie about them, foreboding enough to justify in their eyes; the concerned whispers of a few. One of which proved a bit too audible to escape Myriah’s attention. “Those eyes…I guess it does take a devil to kill a monster. Or a viper to swallow some vermin.” The man’s words earning a nod from another fellow within the group. “It goes to show you that sometimes it takes a bigger fish, to keep inline the smaller ones.” Abruptly she stopped, giving them both a sharp glare, piercing their very flesh and souls. The color flushed from their skin, as the first to speak stammered, “Not so loud…she might go berserk and kill us!” Without further delay she left the matter be, making her way to the elder’s home, slamming the weather worn wooden door shut behind her. One by one they congregated around the barrier, trying their best to eavesdrop on the conversation whilst maintaining some minute degree of stealth. But whatever was said; seemed far too muffled to be understood. Yet still vainly they did persist; in the pursuit of sating their curiosity and hopefully fears.