Omen was not in a good mood. Recent disappearances of key gang members and leaders have hurt the Western Prosperity Society* immensely.
He was no real leader. He understood the basics of war and survival but all that said - he was a warrior. He excelled in martial combat and often in bare hand fighting. He found himself in a leadership role because no one else would step up. Also, his lieutenant, Graceful Shadow Stalker went missing two days ago. Stalker was a much better leader than Omen as he did not always solve his problems with force.
Things were falling apart, again. Reclariant members had to be put down or shown their place. While almost all the gangs had losses, the WPS had the most significant losses currently and the other gangs were beginning to take advantage of that fact.
These and other dark thoughts disturbed Omen on his way home from his most recent meeting with the other heads within the Western Prosperity Society.
That’s why he was almost taken by surprise. He hid in the shadows to avoid being seen in the light of the full moon so if it wasn’t for a faint keening sound he would have been taken completely by surprise.
Not that it really mattered to his assailant. Narrowly missing a punch to his chin because he turned his head, a huge fist connected to Omen’s midsection sending him flying backwards. Omen managed to land on his feet but just barely. That blow hurt so much that he could not raise his hands to defend himself. He looked up slightly as the figure came into the moonlight.
It was shaped like a man, if vaguely, and that was the only thing human about it. Its face was that of a giant bat and it had claws and fangs and membrane-like wings spread under its arms.
Omen knew he was done for and his thoughts raced. He had the answer to the disappearances; this creature probably hunted them and brought them to feed its young. He then had another thought, the intelligence behind those bat-eyes said it was indeed more than meets the eye and was revising his theories when the bat creature struck.
Omen thought that the creature simply disappeared but then felt a huge claw grab his head from behind. His face was suddenly plummeting into the ground for some reason at a speed he scarcely thought possible. He tasted dirt and blood in his mouth but managed to remain conscious. He thought his head would split like a rotten melon in the next time it stuck the ground and given the speed the ground was moving would likely be in the next second if not sooner.
He scarcely felt the jarring impact, so deep into shock he was. He finally felt that his consciousness was mercifully fading but instead of the familiar blackness a suffusing silvery light blinded him in its radiance.
The single moment lasted less than a second yet felt like almost an hour. After the light faded enough that Omen could see, instead of seeing the ground or his assailant he saw a vision of the full moon and heard a strangely androgynous voice whisper to him: “You have been chosen by the Fickle Lady, the bloodied Huntress, and none may stand in your way. Will you let yourself be beaten without a fight? You have the power! Use it!”
A deafening roar from somewhere deep inside Omen’s soul rose up and formed itself into what appeared was a Lynx. Suddenly, his wounds did not hurt anymore and as far as he could tell he was not bleeding. He flexed his claws, and indeed he was surprised to have claws and held fast the arm holding the back of his head.
He then stood up easily and threw the weight from his back forwards and gazing deep into the eyes of his assailant, he let out a primal roar and bit it on the neck.
It shrieked. It let out a keening high pitched sound that hurt Omen’s suddenly very sensitive ears. The cat creature that was Omen let it go with a hiss and a snap that sounded like a curse. The bat creature let out another piercing shriek and attacked again.
Bellicose Omen Towards Stewardship no longer felt helpless, he lost himself in a rage and managed to dodge, strike, bite, and mangle his opponent. He did not do this without getting hurt as he was bitten, strangled, cut apart, and hurt.
Suddenly in the middle of the struggle, the bat creature broke away from Omen. It let out a keening laugh.
“I am Nightwarden, Chosen of Luna, as are you I see. I would like to congratulate you as no one has shed my blood in over a century.” the bat creature said in a high pitched but definitely male voice.
“Luna? The Fickle Lady? The Blood Spattered Huntress I saw in my vision? Thank you, I think.” Omen replied spitting out dirt, blood, and some bat fur.
“Yes, her! You have been Exalted and you will be educated somewhere away from here. You will find out on the morrow. I will show you.” Nightwarden laughs.
“Leave? My place is here. And what is this business of you attacking me in the first place?” asked Omen while picking off more dirt and fur from his teeth with his claws.
“The ambush? You are strong. This colony here in the Outback was made this way to determine who is strong. Those who prove themselves are taken from here to serve in the Wyld Formed lands. It is only through adversity that humanity can hone their strength.” explained Nightwarden.
“So, all those disappearances…?” asked Omen blurring into his human form.
Bellicose Omen Towards Stewardship follows him into the night.
*Blade of the Seas heard the rather peculiar but amusingly appropriate name of a gang which was bent on survival in the Outback from some friends who were keeping him abreast of transfers into Mercy and possible candidates for mortal enlightenment to serve in Clepsys. In the Age of Sorrows, his next incarnation, named Knife of the Ocean suggested it to Naar Kalaman when they were thinking of a name for their emerging dominion bent on bringing “Peace and Justice to the West,” so to speak. It appealed to Naar as being appropriate and thoroughly amused Knife as being based on a gang of thugs from his dim memories of the First Age.
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