"Fear not this new night, my brothers, the terrors of an everlasting darkness are as nothing when compared to the darkness in Man's heart. For, who among you knows what Man might do when Hunger sleeps in his bed and Famine is his child's only playmate?" --Prelude
Pie Jesu Domine *thwack*, dona eis requiem *thwack*...
Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you’re gonna get.
You have been born into a rebellious world. The whole of history is treason; your blood was spilt before you were even born; the various creeds are but an infidelity to the Truth; and Man’s laws are but treason to his Maker. -Passage from the Samahhi
It is the Year of Furtive Shadows, and everyone can smell the changes in the wind. Everyone, from the lowest scully boy up to the regents, knew, deep down, that something must happen soon.
In an area albinos are considered to be evil mystics and locals ward themselves against them by turning their backs to them to avoid being mesmerized. Suddenly the angeliclly pale loner with white hair and violet hued-eyes is suddenly an outcast, and his companions are treated as if they have been mystically bonded into his service, and could be treated with attempts to intervene or given the same stony treatment. Expect poor quarters, no hospitality and to pay twice as much for everything.