Death's Red Eyes
Rust robes, a kings ransom of gold and silver hair, laugh lines and genuine wrinkles... but do not be fooled. This old lady is not thin and frail, but thin and lithe, her mind as sharp as her tongue and her Sever the Root kick.
Watcher Monk Vehan Ffian, dedicated to the brown, but wearing the rust, human, woman, aged, wise and worried. The Red Eyes rise in the sky and there are still questions left to be answered… Even with a life dedicated to searching for those answers. Easily mistaken for your grandma or the village wise woman, Ffian moves through a world where she is either well liked, or her arrival dreaded. Her questions never cease, but her answers are worth the time it takes to wade through the fluff of the telling… if you have the patience. Friends abound and are often found in the oddest of places and enemies add days to their journeys to avoid her sharp tongue.
I have dreamt of the red eyes since I was a very small girl. They illuminated my life almost as much as the yellow orb that crosses the blue expanse of sky during my waking hours.
…and now they have come…
Do I have the answers? Perhaps. Do I know what needs to be done? Possibly.