|Ability||Teleport your General up to 2 spaces.|
Teleport your General up to 2 spaces.
Wisps of cloud curled around blades of grass like lovers sinking fingers into a verdant mane. Each breath of mist was a dewdrop given life at a whispered prayer. We walk the fields but break no stems, bend no stalks, burden no steps on the tired earth.
The world had suffered without us, hidden in monasteries or cloistered in mountains. The elders return to seclusion, to hiding, to fear. But the war is over. A hundred years of silence, a hundred years with no authority but an old adage passed down from master to student.
Word from above: our self-imposed imprisonment was over, the world ours to explore. We stepped into the shadow of the Weeping Tree and prepared for battle. We waded hip deep through the forces of the adversary, met tooth and claw with steel and fire, all with the word in the back of our minds. And after?
Fade back into obscurity. Our powers are a secret sin kept brittle in the cold of seclusion. Why hide in the cloud enshrouded peaks? We will walk among them as leaders, politicians, Generals. When they need us we will be there, not only as citizens of our nations, but as Bloodborn.