It was down a long dark corridor, past a moss covered stone vault door, where four figures could be made out in a dimly lit room. They each stood on one of the four sides of an elaborately carved casket that rested in the center of the circular room. Though engraved with several symmetrical flowing patterns of lines, the casket’s most impressive feature was its top: a semi-transparent glowing crystallized lid that encased the entire stone top of the casket. The crystal of the lid gave off a peculiar color of light… a somewhat dark grey much like a distant storm cloud.
The room was covered with engravings, just as the casket was, but instead of patterns on the wall, there were runes written in an ancient language known to but a few. The engravings occasionally pulsed the same light of the casket, almost at the pace of a calm heart.
As for the four figures, well, they were each quite different from one another. All four of them gave off light, each a different color.
One was an old man who resembled a hermit, and gave off a faint amber glow. Though he was hunched over and appeared physically weak, an inexplicable power could be felt emanating from the space around him.
But this was to be expected. The four of them were Gods, after all.
The old man and the other three were known as the Four Winds. They had ruled over the various Air and Wind spirits in their domain for centuries, granting mana and abilities to their respective believers throughout the quartet’s existence. Although the blessings given to their believers were primarily a gift of gratitude for their believers’ patronage, they also served as an investment for any god.
There is only one way for a god to gain power: the faith of their believers must increase. As a result, many gods would scramble to collect as many followers as possible, in an attempt to outnumber their rivals. However, the faith of one being could outweigh millions provided the person’s willpower was strong enough.
Willpower was also directly connected to the strength of mana and faith in individuals. In a way, the more confident one was in his or her abilities, then the stronger his or her potential... although overconfidence has led to the deaths of many talented heroes.
On the other hand, granting powerful blessings to those that were not worthy could backfire. The candidate would likely die from not being able to withstand the power bestowed by the blessing. Worst case scenario, the blessing could manifest itself completely opposite of its intentions: a curse. A curse changes a human into a monster; something unable to maintain former shape nor control its power. Thus, many of the this world’s diabolical monsters have been created by the gods in this way.
As a result, the gods must both act with humility and caution. They do this through bestowing weak blessings on potential candidates and hoping that the disciple’s faith and willpower will blossom. As the disciple’s faith grows, so the does the god’s power, which enables the continuation of more powerful blessings. Confidence, however, is still difficult to manage as it is out of the gods’ hands to shape.
But the person in the casket before them was the exception.
These were the thoughts that ran through the old god’s head, as he furrowed his brow, adding to the many wrinkles already present on his ancient forehead.
There could be no argument against it; The Four Winds’ powers were diminishing. The primary sect worshipping them was in the Windhaven Nation. It had been trampled upon by various other nations for centuries. The blessings granted have been proven almost entirely ineffective against its surrounding nations, thus the country’s power had not developed in the past few centuries. The Windhaven Nation’s greatest enemy over the years has been, and still is, the Obelisk Kingdom.
As the Windhaven Nation’s faith decreased, so too did the ability of the Four Winds to grant powerful blessings. It was a downwards spiral towards utter feebleness of both gods and humans. The Four Winds absolutely could not let this continue. If nothing was done, the gods would begin to fade from existence. Though their power was weak, The Four Winds were needed for the continuing function of world of Terrarth… even if the other gods might not agree. This was why the four stood in front of a stone casket which held one half of their trump card. They were preparing to summon the other half, but...
“Still, perhaps this is too early? Maybe we should...”
The trace of a faint whisper came from the man with short spiked hair standing across from the old man. He gazed intensely at the casket in front of him while muttering to himself quietly. Wearing a rather slim-fit gentleman’s suit and a monocle with no chain, he had his hand to his chin while engrossed in thought. The monocle was quite strange: it had no physical support, but instead appeared to bob up and down suspended in the air.
“We cannot afford to harbor any doubts now,” a sultry female voice interrupted, “And I see you still have not broken that habit of talking to yourself, Gakusho, hmm?”
The spikes on the man’s head seemed to shiver with electricity as the woman jolted his thoughts. Even his floating monocle was bobbing out of control. Steadily re-adjusting his monocle, he turned and subserviently replied, “Mm… right, if you say so...” The East Wind had always been a jumpy person, thus he was often teased.
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He could barely meet the eyes of the lady on his right. Though her voice might have been that of a seductress, she was much different in appearance. Her hair was tied back in a high ponytail and it accentuated her sharp jaw line. She wore a rather tight battle-dress covered in dragon scales that both radiated and reflected the sky blue light surrounding her. Her voice belayed her battle-hardened appearance.
“Oh my, you must speak up when addressing your fellow comrades, Gakusho.” Condescension was evident in the tone of her voice. Senshi, the Frigid North Wind always enjoyed teasing her fellow comrades, especially Gakusho, the East Wind.
However, she was not the only one who enjoyed teasing others, as a bright young voice started giggling.
“Hee hee hee! So you two are still only flirting after all these centuries! Make a move already, Gakusho! Or get a damn room already, sheesh.”
The South Wind, Ko, stood with her hands on her hips and turned her nose up at Senshi. She was quite short and always had to turn her head up in order meet the eyes of the other Four Winds. Her body was much like that of a 12-year-old. She wore a plain dress that reached down to her knees. The South Wind was not too big on clothing; in fact, she usually was naked. Many statues down on Terrarth depicted her this way as well.
“Wha-wha-what are you talking about!?!” stammered Gakusho, his monocle bobbing rapidly like a jackhammer.
“Quit your stammering, Gakusho” snapped the armored queen. Then she turned to the child. “Yes and it seems you haven’t changed much either over the years, Ko... seeing as you’re still lacking in quite a departments, namely physical ones, hmmm?” as Senshi emphasized her metal encased assets.
“Take it back, you saggy bitch!” steamed Ko. The dust of the tomb began to gather around her in cyclones.
“Saggy! This!?” Senshi leered across the casket, her hands suggestively sliding down the curves of her armor “This little shortie’s got some spunk after what happened to her last time?” Senshi stared down at Ko as an intensified cool mist began to surround her.
With a malicious glare, Ko growled “Bring it, bitch!”
Just as Ko began to raise her hand, the old man stepped in:
“Enough! Enough! Remember why we’re here you fools. The Saint-Sage! Not your Tempest-like antics. And by the way, Gakusho, I could hear your muttering quite clearly.”
Gakusho’s eyes immediately went downcast. “My apologies, Seifu”
“No, it’s all right Gakusho, I understand your concerns. But our power is waning every day. I’m not even sure we could do this at another time. Furthermore, we have to move now because the princess is already on her way towards the Saint-Sage’s tomb as we speak! So cease these idiotic hostilities and gather your mana, for this is no easy task even without considering our lack of time.”
The rest of the Winds shied their heads away from the West Wind’s glare. Even Ko ceased her muttering on about Senshi’s flabbiness. Finally, silence filled the air of the catacombs.
Aware of both the situation and the rarity of all four of them gathered together, Seifu, The Calm Wind, spoke:
“Let us begin.”
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A girl was kneeling in the middle of a field within tall grasses that stretched for miles. She wore torn pale white robes tied with a pale green sash around her shoulder and waist. She was hiding in the grasses with one ear towards the sky, attempting to locate how far away her pursuers were.
The girl held her breath and focused on the sounds around her. She needed treat the screams of her comrades as just distractions. She needed to put aside the images of spurting blood and torn organs. She needed to hear through the wind to determine how close her pursuers were.
If they found her… she shuddered and tossed the dangerous notion aside.
Hesitating when her soldiers had ordered her to flee had been a costly mistake. Because she had at first hesitated, she not only saw the gruesome deaths of her companions, but also lost her sandals in her frantic rush. Her feet had now become all too familiar with the rugged ground covered by the high grasses of the Oskerdian Plains. The scratches and bruises on her delicate feet hurt at first, but the fear of death proved to be a powerful motivator. Her feet were smeared with blood oozing from a deep cut on her left foot.
The writhes of agony sounded fainter as she strove to put distance between her and her pursuers. The girl took advantage of the opportunity; she quickly tore a bunch grass from the ground and bound it together in a crude knot around her injured feet as makeshift footwear.
She admonished herself as she began to run again... It had been a dangerous plan, after all. She knew this, of course; the whole unit that went with her knew as well. They knew the risks of crossing into the Obelisk Kingdom without permission.
But they did it anyway. They had to. The chance that there was an artifact of some kind to help her people was too great to be ignored. For the sake of her people, she had to go.
“Perhaps I should have gone alone,” thought the priestess to herself.
More than two-thirds of their elite forces had been butchered after the initial surprise ambush. The rest were most likely severely injured or dead at this point.
Originally, the plan was to sneak through the Oskerdian Plains to avoid any Obelisk Kingdom patrols. However, an entire Obelisk crossbow unit was waiting for just that.
The priestess was too fatigued to question how the Obelisk Kingdom was able to ambush them. They must have been watching her unit’s movements from the beginning.
As she ran, she thought about the soldiers that had been with her. Some were quite young, still teenagers. Others were quite past their prime.
But they were all the same at the ambush, their faces wearing blood, fear, and despair. The girl almost wanted to curse her god for this incident. For it was the South Wind had whispered in her ear the location of the hidden tomb during her daily prayers back at the Windhaven Temple. There resided the the body of the Saint-Sage, the highest calibre mage who had once possessed the unique Saint blessing from each of the Four Winds.
She had been in love with the commander of the unit, but now he was almost certainly dead… She wished she had gone alone.
But the priestess did not have time to waste despairing over lost comrades. She had a greater goal. She clenched her fists and pressed onwards.
The Tomb of The Saint-Sage must be near. It had to be.