Cold wind whipped through the branches of the trees, howling an eery, wordless tune to any and all who would listen. To most, it was nothing more than meaningless noise, but to the old gypsy of Tortuga Swamp, it was a message from the spirits. He held his hands over the seething cauldron - he had no need for trinkets and talismans to connect with the spirit world - and spoke:
"What of it?"
The wind howled again, then lulled.
"Yes, I know the old stories. But you can't be ser-" He was cut off by another gale. Frowning, he walked into his house and brought back a tiny golden necklace that was adorned only by a simply cut emerald. He closed his eyes and reached out for the warmth from the jewel, letting it to envelop him, and then...
The whole area was burnt, cinders and charcoal all that was left of the once lively town. The jungle rippled with movement and chattering... and shrieking... and the swamp ran red...
He was back in the present, and he realized that his hands were shaking so badly that he had dropped the jewel. He listened as the wind howled for several minutes before walking once more into his home. He found what he was looking for: a small glass orb that glowed a soft shade of purple. He held it gently, and began to speak to each and every one of his brethren in the Caribbean...
I hope that this was an ok beginning to the story series. I'm coming back to the forums for a while, and ought to bring you a few more of these.
P.S. Anyone miss me?
