Many legends have sprung up out of the wreckage of the Bleeding Wilds. People there are afraid, and need stories to explain how their world has been so completely overturned, and comfort them that they are not without protection.
One of the latter of these stories is of Crackle Eyes, who sees the Realms through the storm that fills her entire body. She fights for the people of the Scarlands against whatever threats they might face; from the Cabal, to invaders, to the natural dangers of Ghur and Chamon brutally wedded together.
The stories tell of her skill with a blade, the barrier she has erected between the innocent and those that would seek them harm, but that is the least of her abilities. She carries a star in one hand, and with the other catches thunderbolts and closes wounds. Her voice is as a whisper, but her tongue is thunder itself. Her stride is longer than lightning, carrying her to wherever she is needed. They say that she can see into the future, while her manifestations confound even the greatest seers and prophets.
They say that Crackle Eyes has walked into the darkest pit, and left it bringing light with her.
She has been taking her blood, and forging it into weapons and armour for the worthy that gather behind her. As each day goes by, her following grows with all from any walk of life, any people and any creed. The inhabitants of the Scarlands first and foremost, for it is their liberty that she fights for, but by her side too fight the cast-offs of the Coalitions that have fled the Scarlands. Even outsiders are welcomed, including those who walk on two feet and four paws and the resurrected defenders of Ghur itself.
All that Crackle Eyes asks of them is that they topple the tyrant, and fight for the liberty and safety of those who have no one else.
Seeing her example fighting the Cabal, they believe these aspirations to be possible.
That, above everything else, is the power of Crackle Eyes.
Where she goes, hope heralds her arrival, deliverance walks by her side, and courage follows in her wake.
Crackle Eyes can never, ever die now.
And she is not alone.
He can find you anywhere.
He is a monster, must be a monster, for no mortal man can bring about such carnage. Where the followers of the Three Eyes turn their gaze, he inevitably follows. Sometimes he’s there waiting for them, with Lady Doom in his hand and the very hounds of hell howling at his heels. The child of Kharneth, in whose wake the earth is blackened by blood, hunts the foes of Crackle Eyes without mercy, wearing the shape of a red-haired youth as his guise. Where the Nashwan seek to set their roots, he hews them apart.
His Hungering Eye draws sorcerous workings to oblivion. He outruns the hot wind. No fire can burn him. Lady Doom’s black flame swallows all in his path, and try as they might, they can’t kill him, because his body will not break.
Those he saves, he marks with his evil blood — so if the Nashwan dare to retaliate against his protectorates, he’ll know, and he’ll come for them. And there is no escape, because he can find you anywhere.
To the Cabalists, he is the Crimson Devil, but the people of the Scarlands name him Blood Brother.
Just as Blood Brother is Crackle-Eye’s close shadow, she has a far-flung light.
This light rides upon the day’s eye, the loyal sand-scurry companion of Crackle Eyes, reaching out with a delicate hand to comfort and heal, not just the wounds of the body, but those of the mind and soul. No easy or quick sublimations of agony does she bring before departing; this light lingers, working tirelessly to ensure that she is no longer needed. Guided with wisdom and grace born of millennia, moved by the love and respect residing in her heart, there is no burden too great for her slim shoulders, no matter too small for her vast powers.
Though a mender of wounds, she is not without valour. While not a martial equal to Crackle Eyes or Blood Brother, the winds of Hysh and Ulgu bend to her whim, and she is skilled at using them for defence or attack. And she has had to deploy such magicks, for in her the enemies of Crackle Eyes see an easy target to strike at the legend through.
Killing her would deprive their enemy of a powerful ally; who knows what advantage they could extract from making her their prisoner?
More than once, their cunning have managed to corner her; then they face a solemn opponent, one who uses emotion itself as a weapon. Her amethyst eyes look upon them with great regret, her measured voice counterpointing the pleading she makes when she warns them away.
Ignoring her pleas to safeguard themselves, they attack, and sometimes through sheer force of arms manage to battle through the torrents of magic to strike her down.
But whatever feelings of triumph they have are stillborn.
The horror begins when the Tearworn Changing One stands back up again.
This aspect is rarely seen, though the aftermath of her awakening is impossible to hide. Even if it is in self-defence, the butchery she enacts is enough to make her gentler aspect weep.
After the third massacre, her enemies learned to avoid the Tearworn Changing One.
These are stories like any other. But true or not, they have power, and they are growing…
