Foretold

                 

                    The late blistering heat bared down on the robes of a lone monk. Clothed in a light brown robe, he blended in perfectly with the surrounding desert. He was looking out into the barren emptiness of the desert, the dawn shadow was out in the distance, closing in on the small wasteland outpost. An echoed roar wisped past him and continued into the silent dawning evening. He slowly raised himself up by a wooden stave that laid at his side and leaned on it as he continued to look out into the open desert. The dawn shadow finally cast over him and the sunlight faded behind him. He finally turned around and in one move, he jumped down from the small watchman's ledge and landed on the dry, cracked brick that made up the courtyard of the small outpost. The monk walked, with such ease, it was as though he were still young, to the center of the courtyard. He waited there, continuing to lean on his staff and watched the arch that lead out to the desert. Heavy footsteps thudded beyond the walls and stopped on the other side, he slowly turned to face the sound and stared at the wall. Heavy breathing and snarling could be heard on the other side of the 12 foot high, brick wall, as well as the voice of a woman. There was another roar and the wall caved in and crumbled to the ground, a creature stood on all fours ontop of the wreckage. The creature sighted the monk and snarled at him, as black as the night and scales like metal it stood and waited. On its backed was an armored clad woman, with very long and black hair, she wore a dark and tarnished chain mail, obviously not cleaned from the blood of her former foes. She was as tan as the desert and stood at 2 well heights, she endured many scars of past battles, too long ago to remember. She jumped off the creatures back and took off her helmet.

               "Ah," she sighed "a Blavir Monk."

                The monk just stood and watched her, the beast to her side was locked in an enraging battle not to rip the monk to shreds and devour his flesh and bones.

              "You humble me, monk, were you waiting for me?" she walked around the small courtyard, voice almost as cold as the night, "such flattery, do I deserve such honors?" She continued to taunt him.

             "Do not mock my presence, tartheon, for your own defiles this sacred place." the monk's deep voice rang throughout the small courtyard and into the darkening sky.

             "So it does talk. What else can you do monk?" she slowly unsheathed a sword and inspected the blood stained blade. "can you kill me, Monk? Does your belief make my life worth more than yours?" she looked up, locking eyes and raising her sword at him, "We shall find out, die monk." There was a short shuffle of movement from the monk before the tartheon dropped her sword and landed, with a shriek, on the ground. The desert banshee roared with rage as its mastered laid in her own blood, still pooling from a mysterious slash on her side. the monk shifted his stance towards the monster and locked eyes with it. Unlocked from its master's orders not to kill him, the banshee charged towards the monk, blackened teeth, pooling with saliva, bared at the monk. The monk lowered his stance as the banshee made way towards him and he jumped , the creatured looked up and tried to reached up to him, but the weight and momentum sent the unbalanced creature crashing to the ground. The monk landed the banshee's stomach, the creature screeched as it tried to rebalance itself, but the monk raised his armed and with a quick, smooth sweeping motion, evicerated the banshee. The monster let out a  moan of pain and died as it bleed out.

            The monk jumped off the giant monster and walked over to the tartheon, who was still in shock.

               "You failed to see." he stated as he knelt beside her, "the pure are worth more than my own soul. You, on the otherhand, are as blackened, and scarred and unforgiving as the creatures who put me on this world."

            He ripped the chain where the weapon gouged through, and stuck his hand into the wound. The tartheon let out a subtle moan of pain as he pulled out a serrated blade, dug deep into her side.          

                 "You are not even worth what a grain of sand is worth in this forsaken desert. You will die in the lands where you began, tartheon, before this world even begins its last age." he stood up, took a look around at the carnage in the courtyard then faced the arch. He walked into the lonely desert, the last sight of the tartheon was the monk's back and the stars in the sky, painted into her brain as she let out her last breathe.