//------------------------------//
// What's In a Name? 
// Story: Ofolrodi 
// by Imploding Colon 
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"The Bloodwings—as Penumbral Equines go—have never possessed much in the way of honor.  However, in days of Old Song, they at least exercised restraint.  That is not the case in Winter.  A generation ago, something in their ranks shifted.  The anger they possessed grew even more vitriolic.  Their penchant for murder and torture expanded beyond their capabilities, and yet it sparked a fire in their dark ambition.  Not only did they push back the encroaching expeditions of the Night Shard, but they staved off the Flux of Tchern's hive.

"It used to be that the Night Shard regularly defeated the Bloodwings at nearly every encounter.  After all, in most instances, the death toll of the Third Penumbral Invaders only strengthed the Ruby Chorus.  But that stopped being the case, and the Great Lyricist's Children failed to ascertain why.  Those moved by the Song have speculated that it was something that tainted the Ruby Harmony... a hatred that permeated both life and death... something that was too much for the Night Shard to process, and so they withdrew from their daunting mortal foe.

"As for the Keepers of the Flux: they always enjoyed a certain degree of domination over the Bloodwings ranks, thanks in most part to their masterful tools of infiltration.  Even the imps of Petra have had great difficulty eliminating the metamorphic spies lying in their midst.  But then—at the lair of the Bloodwings—something somehow detected every hatchling of Tchern.  Every drone and soldier in hiding was suddenly uprooted, eviscerated, and then fed to the Lunar masses.  In fact, one of the last records of the Song is that the Third Penumbral Invaders had found a new and improved way of sustaining their forces: feasting on all the Keepers they managed to catch.  And they caught many.

"Soon, the Keepers also withdrew.  Save for a few spies spread here and there—sacrificing themselves to perform necessary reconaissance—they situated themselves close to the main hive of Tchern, concentrating their efforts on cultivating the Flux.  All that remained on this half of the Plane—so close to Edgeside—became subject to the Lunar Hunt.  The Bloodwings had specialized themselves.  They performed wide sweeps of the Curve, studying every topographical detail and making note of the things that always lived under their wings.  Then—with merciless execution—they began attacking, assaulting, and wounding every species they came across.  Some of it was simply to acquire food and resources.  But—for the most part—they killed and slaughtered with very little purpose... if only to spread blood and misery into every crevice of the world.

"This threatened the natural balance, and soon the other Factions took notice.  The Imps also required these living resources to eke a living, and the Bloodwings were depleting them rapidly, making the environment more and more inhospitable.  The Night Shard had little care for the matter, but the Keepers of the Flux relied on the living ecosystem to maintain the diversity of their metamorphosis.  The Dihmers stood by and idly watched.  At first, the Bloodwings attacked them too, but soon it no longer became sport to attack the Dihmers.  Besides—by that point in the development—swarms of the Flux were starting to mount desperate assaults on Bloodwing fortifications.  Not only that, but a few angry clans of the imps had broken neutrality and boldly attempted to sabotage the Lunar Hunt as well.

"Both factions failed, however.  To this day, the Song lacks the details to explain why.  But—the moment either the Flux or the imps ventured a certain distance Edgeside—their forces were almost immediately obliterated.  It is the esteemed belief of the Winter Children that something far too powerful to be explained by Song is now a tool at the Bloodwings' disposal, and it has the power to mount an impermeable defense, obliterating any enemy squadron that comes within a certain proximity.  This would explain how the Bloodwings have been able to revolutionize themselves without much distraction over the past few decades.  Some masterful authority in their midst has broken the pattern of the last hundred lifetimes, and for the first time since their successful Penumbral attack on Endrax's brood at the Sarcophagus of Ages, the Bloodwings are gaining an edge in the Trinary War.

"It is around this point that Winter caught up with us—tumultously so.  There was a time when the Bloodwings cared little about the presence of Abaddon's Children.  We were seen as we are—innocent observers of a war-torned plane.  That all changed with the last equine generation.  It began at first with the eradication of our tiniest and most precious of allies.  Then—as the Lunar Hunt began its violent flight—all remaining scouts, listeners, and various members of the chorus were tracked down and brutalized.  Our sisters' legs would be torn off and our remaining bodies forced to dwell listlessly in agony and pain.  The Song became a Dirge, and the Lunar Hunt closed in further and further until all the Children were forced into this City.  Then—without warning—the Bloodwings stopped.  To this day, we do not know why they spared us a final assault on the Great Songstress' Lair.  Perhaps they see some untold purpose in our existence, as they must with the Dihmers.

"Nevertheless, we have enjoyed this existence with some untold price.  A miraculous thing it is too—for if the Bloodwings had advanced any further, then we would not have been present to deliver the Song to the Austraeoh.  We are too anxious about the situation to define it as 'providence,' for the violence and sadism of the Bloodwings has yet to stop.  They are preparing for something unfathomably sinister, but with the death of our scouts and singers we can no longer keep record of what is transpiring far beyond the fringes of this city.

"The very last detail logged by the Song—committed to twilight memory—is that of a name.  The author of this New Hatred, and the innovator of Bloodwing malice.  The name is 'Lexxic,' and we know that it sparks fear in the hearts of imps... and incites panic in the hatchling drones of the Flux.  It echoes off the fangs of the warriors who lead the Lunar Hunt, and for many of our sisters across the plane it was the last word they heard—shrieked discordantly—as their limbs were ripped from their mortal husks.

"In a world riddled with death, torture, and suffering... 'Lexxic' dwells somewhere darkly beneath it all."