The Hunt Is On

And so the man of crow stood upon the gate of his home, gazing down upon his people. He would be leaving them, only to return more complete then whence he had left them. And so they would have a new champion, one of moral greed and sanctity, to lead them down the path of glory. They had called for decades, and at long last he would deliver. He would be gone but for only a glimpse, secretly partaking in a mission no one else had atoned to.

And so with a wave of his hand, a likeness of himself appeared, a thing called a shadow clone, to partake in his life and defend if need be. This creature now held more of his own strength then he himself did, and so he could leave with a sound conscious. With a respect to his soldier of his own creation, he turned, using more strength to create his transport. Before him in the air came a crow the size of a cloud, and so he could ride with freedom and haste. Thus he was about to be on his way. With one final glance, he boarded his servant of flight, and to the skies he sought his prey, who like himself, fled through the air.

With trust in his comrade whos purpose was to only serve him as he needed, he lounged upon its back. No effort on his part necessary. The eyes searched the skies, the tracking skills fully mastered not even put to the test. His prey's only thought seemed to be to flee, and not to escape. With no attention placed on that detail, he was free to follow the elephant through the brush. He would not escape, and so victory could be his.

With time holding no meaning, nor place mattering, Faust lost track of where or when he was. Not long, and his prey took his break, rest required for the weak hearted. As the hunter, he could not rest, and taking in bearings of the surroundings, corresponded with departure, there was only one likely destination. To the clouds they would fly, with minimal haste. And so he circumvented, still unseen, and continued while the prey did rest. His vow would be fulfilled at last. Nothing of event took place, not that mattered or went noticed. So focused was the man and all the tools of his disposal, the scenery did not exist.

At a rift in this time however, a buzzing filled the flesh weavers head. His copy gone, and his charade unmasked, but knowledge was gained in return. An odd beast of an opponent did show a new face, and new goals arose. A new purpose came from this conquest. And so would his strength grow. The village still safe, a crisis averted, he continued upon his way.

And at last the destination he arrived to before his prey, and so he could lay his ground work. The trap set to be sprung. A vehicle of odd shape and size would bring him to the cloud, and to the man that did lie with in, who could produce what he so desired. At last vengeance would be satisfied.