Something terrible had happened here, but that was long ago.

So long in fact that no living member of the Guild could recall the memory, so long that the only mention of it lay within the Guild’s oldest logs. But where the human mind failed the world remembered, so Shin-Ra Industries persisted. Less inquisitive minds would have surrendered the hunt for more fertile grounds yet they persisted, delving deep into the jungle world armed with little more than a flashlight and questions that would not answer themselves, and one particularly grumpy Knight.

The excavation team had set up camp several miles out from the site itself. The scientists had since discovered that the dreadful fog surrounding the area did nasty things to external forms of magic which in turn forced them to rely on their Materia. It was theorized that the Materia itself acted as a focus that kept the fog from plying the thaumatic energies apart and while that was an interesting find it also severely limited their options. Every morning they hiked through the marshes to reach the excavation site that they set up and though there was grumbling to be had everyone unanimously agreed that things were better this way. Not because of the fog or because of the strange alien predators that prowled about but because the ruins were just plain creepy.

It did not help that the civilization they had unearthed bore a striking resemblance to their own, not at all.

Only Satori never wavered and it was that determination that they had latched onto. Though she was their sole guard she was rarely seen unless they had need of her, often times disappearing into the depths below or slipping into the surrounding jungle, moving with preternatural grace and familiarity. It was almost as if she knew the lay of the land. She did, that was true, but what they did not know and what they could not know is that Satori had absolutely no idea why this territory was so familiar to her. Her memory of this world was like a bubble, a vague thing drifting on the surface of her mind that popped the instant she stared too close, and where others may have been frustrated she was drawn.

Today was an unusual day as she was close at hand, crouched on one of the steppes and staring into the pits below with a ponderous look on her face. Since the Majesty Tournament had ended Satori had slipped into something a bit more comfortable. The brown one piece was the same outfit she had worn in prison, surprisingly durable and more importantly a part of her wardrobe that she was willing to part with, and save for the addition of a few frivolous pieces of jewelry and an unnervingly pink undershirt it was fairly bland. But then again it had survived a run in with the Twin Towers so maybe she was selling the jumpsuit short. It tucked into a set of thick black boots and the sleeves were rolled up to expose a set of surprisingly well-muscled forearms. Though she was nearly six feet tall Satori did not cut a particularly threatening figure and thanks to stalled aging she never would. Even if her face was pretty it was childish with a layer of baby-fat set into the cheeks for eternity, too wide eyes, and a button nose. It was a face that begged to be bullied which ran perfectly in line with Satori’s smartest-person-in-the-room mentality and coupled with a caustic disposition that refused to explain itself often set her very high on the list of people who needed to be hit in the face. Unfortunately for the world at large she was also a master of the martial arts. Her black hair was pinned to either side of her head and what wasn’t braided had been swept up into a comb that fell to one side of her head, behind her head the hair was encouraged to do the same but in an environment as humid as this fashion was at the mercy of nature.

A white fur coat dyed red at the throat hung from her shoulders though it must have been unbearably hot and was fastened in place by a series of golden chains. She claimed that the fur had been stripped from the hide of an Ogre who in addition to deserving his fate also provided her with a degree of protection from magic in death. Whether that was true or whether she just wanted to look like a pimp remained to be seen. Other weapons and tools hung on her person, most of them tucked into the series of too-many belts around her waist, the most notable being a white-sheathed katana at her left hip and a particularly large handgun dangling from her right. There was a hammer hanging from her rear, unseen to the world, acting as a taunting last resort. Sky Dancer had sworn to run her through if she ever surrendered to temptation which was add because the elf had otherwise sworn every aspect of his life to her service. And thus was Satori ready for anything that came her way.

“I can’t shake the feeling that I know this place,” Satori whispered to the darkness. “I need answers and I’m close. I just don’t know if the company is going to like what I find.” Surprisingly enough the darkness muttered back.

Inter-dimensional pirates ravaged the land, one that had served as a place of meditation from time to time. Such interesting ruins, surely someone would come along at one point or another to claim the dead's treasures for themselves. An excavation team pried at the secrets of the ancient civilization, and whilst in the eyes of some, unearthing such information could be seen as scientifically moving forward, the pious would shun it as another form of graverobbing. Daos was such a resolute kind of man, and his instincts told him more than he aught to know about the nature of this organization. He did not see their actions as positively effecting this world's people, and an aura of darkness clouded any benefit of the doubt he might have had at first glance.

Traveling from continent to continent had its ups and downs, but Daos memorized the lands he traversed, especially the places he deemed best worth revisiting for meditation. The jungle's magitech ruins was such a perfect place, the eerie dread of magic long dead, the fruition of nature amidst such age old devastation. What was once a peaceful calmed vibe was being dug up by outlandish scientists. Daos had only recently returned to this place of meditation, and was not aware of its new prospectors. Regardless, he knew the real monarchs of the providence this ruin belonged to, and the tribunal of chiefs had already come to a conclusion that the ruins were to be left alone. There was no need to warn authorities and sit on the outskirts of a problem, Daos had a moral compass to abide by. The high priest thought himself capable of dealing with these intruders himself, and saw fit to do so in the simplest of ways.

From the outskirts of the scientist's camp, Daos kept his presence mostly hidden. His spiritual aura was suffocating, but so was the air out here, he assumed meager scientists with such minuscule auras wouldn't be able to decipher any better. He would attempt to scare them out of their mission, by acting the part of a series of natural disasters. Taking the staff of Ngma and holding it above his head, twirling it a total of three times would be enough to summon the wind's ferocity, however a prolonged whirl, angled a touch low from time to time, and the gathering storm would widen in to the perfect shape for him. Dust and dirt gathered all around the tornado Daos brandished as his mantle, and he would begin to walk forward in the moment of its birth. Everything about him, and what he wore would be veiled from sight. No tale of a tall man in priestly robes assailing the camp would come to tongue, unless he met a more powerful foe along the way. He need only waltz through the outsider's camp, it would be torn asunder as he did so. A tornado in the desert was highly illogical, if they didn't see this as a good reason to flee, he'd be forced to destroy more of their works using earthquakes and landslides.

Once done with the scientist's camp, Daos slowly trekked onwards through the forest, through a path he knew well that would avoid much of the swamp fog, while relocating him atop one of the many mountain crags. His tread was slow, he made no intention of killing the scientists, only their will to continue working, and he'd slip out of the main camp and towards the ruins at his earliest convenience. This is when and where the darker aura became ever more present, and the rest of the working scientists would lose their focus on what jobs were at hand. At once, anyone directly close to the ruins would be able to witness the bizarre path of that tornado, which seemingly held its position in front of a rope bridge. Daos knew he had torn down several younger trees in his travel, however nature was always self sufficient, and a skilled druid could undo his actions with ease. The rope bridge was something he wouldn't be able to climb, however, so he stopped abruptly, plus there was something itching at his psyche, that dark aura, its presence was less masked here, closest to the ruins themselves.

Daos extended the size of his tornado briefly, and tilted his staff upside down, he'd quickly jab the end in to the earth at his feet, he'd pull it out as a large boulder sized maul, his all natural weapon of choice. These preparations were necessary, for Daos realized the err in his ways. The strange aura was strong, it should've been obvious that these scientists had some sort of protector in their service. Not to mention, they were scientists! The kind of people most skilled at determining the truth behind phenomenon. The high priest would probably have to fight, so he readied himself for whatever awaited him on the other side of that rope bridge.

It was the shadows that first informed Satori of the attack upon their camp. Their eyes were everywhere and unseen by the interloper they were able to speed through the jungle at impossible speeds. Yet as individuals they were weak, utterly incapable of presenting a defense against the brutish sandstorm, and so they crowded around their Princess to inform her of the intrusion while chattering in their own tongue. Like most minor elementals they were not particularly intelligent and so deciphering their tale was something of a guessing game, the tale they settled on spoke of a dust elemental far from its home encroaching on their territory, which struck her as somewhat improbable given that the beast would have had to travel hundred if not thousands of miles unmolested, quite a way to go for simple vandalism.

That it was not destroying the forest while it went and had instead chosen to target the Shin-Ra research camp told her that this was a calculated thing. Not so much of a surprise, the company had many enemies and a habit of making more; today it seems they had earned another one.

Satori sighed and then flicked her wrists out, the shadows faded from view but not completely, shrinking into a state that hung somewhere between the second and third dimension where they clung at her shoulders and crowded at her heels. If one were particularly perceptive they would catch prying eyes gazing out wherever they could and hushed whispers like those of eager children. There they would remain, little more than an extended peanut gallery for the Princess of Shadows, as she preferred not to throw the lives of children into the battle if she could at all help it. Besides that dark magic which she summoned from deep inside was far more potent than those shadows which occurred in nature.

A few quickened steps saw her standing over the excavation site where just under two dozen researchers in loose khaki clothing and pith helmets toiled away, and with a sharp whistle caught their attention, “Someone is approaching the site and I have a feeling they aren’t friendly.”

“And I suppose you’ll be going to meet them.” The most senior of the researchers, a man with a great and furious moustache, whirled to face her. “Is there any reason for us to worry?”

“Given their trend towards collateral damage I would say yes.” Satori’s gaze catered off towards the approaching aura. It was finally close enough for her to detect the powerful soul tugging the strings at the rampaging storm, soon after the sound of falling trees reached them and someone shrieked, “By the way. I hope you weren’t too attached to anything you left at the camp; I’ve been told that our guest has thoroughly destroyed it.”

“How do y—“ the man began before cutting himself off short. “Right then, well where do we go? This thing is cutting off the path to camp, whatever’s left of it, and the only thing besides the ruins is jungle. Frankly I don’t like my chances with either.”

Satori grimaced as she remembered the trek here, not a safe place for anyone without significant equipment. “I take it you haven’t entered the ruins yet?”

“Hell no, I’d prefer to wait for a safer solution before we plunge into a poison factory.” He said.

“Doesn’t seem like you’ll have a choice captain,” and with that Satori turned on her heels. The researchers would likely crowd themselves into an entryway of some sort, taking advantage of the nigh indestructible ruins while doing their best to avoid delving in too deep. After the incident with the supersized predatory feline it was clear that Satori was something of a messy fighter who considered her life first.

The girl was off, moving in a blur until the moment she spotted the other mage, a burly man with skin as black as night and a bald pate. He had been kind enough to loosen his grip on the whirlwind of sand, turning it into a widespread dome around his body, dangerous but also presenting enough gaps for her to peer through and appreciate the giant beast beneath it. He was easy to single out too given the staff that he carried with a boulder nearly his equal in height and far superior in width attached to the end, like a mace or presumably a flail, if he could find some way to form a loose tether of earth between the stick and ball; she had no doubt that he could. Dressed like a scholar and casting magic like a mage but with the body that would be the envy of any warrior he would present a serious threat if they ever fought.

The bridge between them was a short one, a scant thirty feet long but it kept two flat faced plateaus connect and beneath it there was a sheer drop into darkness. She in turn stood just around the bend, twenty five feet or so away from the rickety rope bridge, her left hand at her hip where she clutched the grip of the overlong caster gun Lil’ Timmy. Custom built by Black Diamond Arms, the best kept secret in Sector 2, it was a magical powerhouse in its own right with a barrel nearly a foot long inlaid with crimson runes each glowing under their own power. The butt of the gun ended in a sharp spike and the ass could slide back to accept solid state munitions. This was just in case she wanted to get clever; most of the guns power came from its ability to channel materia and its willingness to accept her dark magic. Four slots; the first linked pair belonging to Reflect and Counter and the third singled out for Earth. Standard spells that one could find on the streets if they were looking hard enough. The last one was a summon slot by the name of Onryo, it was a materia of her own craft, and Lil’ Timmy particularly didn’t like it.

All of this to say that Satori drew her gun and took aim at the stranger, the runes along the barrel filling with a crimson light one after another until a dull magical hum filled the air. She was content to aim in his general direction for now, informing the stranger that she wasn’t too happy with his presence but leaving a gap for negotiations if he was feeling magnanimous, and if the man-titan thought to get the jump on her with that kindness he’d find Satori had something of an itchy trigger finger.

“I don’t know who you are but it’s awfully rude to root through a ladies stuff like that while she’s out,” Satori closed the gap to twenty feet from the bridge, a grin on her face. “You may call me Satori, the Princess of Shadows and guardian of this caravan. Now then, since I was polite enough to introduce myself, what is your name and what business do you have with us?”

Howling winds echoed through the crevasse of earth dividing two opposing forces, one aligned to the nurturing light, the other an agent of darkness. What was apt to come next, the kind of conflict romanticized endlessly through script and lore.

Daos meditated for a moment, enough to gather his bearings. His aura attuned to the atmosphere, and like an extension of his skin, he felt the world around him for traps or oddities, spirits or auras estranged. Quickly, he divined a presence facing him at twelve o'clock, it harbored the dark aura that would chill and erect his neck hairs, if he had any. A shadow approached fearlessly. Common sense convinced the priest that his true enemy neared, no mere civilian would approach a tornado without some kind of rhyme or reason, a death wish perhaps. His storm censored out much of this shady woman's conversation with the other scientists, however the mere act of a mystified and eerie aura drawing closer and closer warranted some kind of defense measure. Daos had many years to his name, and still many life goals to ascertain.

As the barrel hole of 'Lil' Timmy' crossed its airs on Daos, he'd jolt his shoulder enough to throw the staff of Ngma forwards on to the cliff before him which barely held his weight. A tight adamant grip on the golden rod kept it from crashing down and revealing too much power, otherwise the ground beneath him would shatter, as would the boulder. Once blocked by a wall of earth, the priest would be more comfortable in hearing out his opponent's speech. Basic shells and magical ones alike would have a tough time piercing through stone of this thickness, but if he was so unlucky, he'd learn from the first mistake... hopefully.

The bridge swung violently as it was battered about by fierce winds. If the approaching woman dared to close such a gap, she'd find bungee jumping off the cliff an easier feat to accomplish. Her words grew louder, as she meant to collect the priest's attention, yelling over the whistle of whirling winds might take a chore out of her lungs. Daos did hear her, but her words struck a chord, and as they vibrated his eardrums ever so lightly he scoffed as if enduring a screech.

"You defile the sacred, and lay claim to treasures belonging to the honored dead! Take your corrupt and hypocritical ways, and leave this place! Go now! The afterlife won't be so kind to you, for what karma you've lost today! Flee, and enjoy what years remain of your precious life, for if you stay, in the name of the gods, I will be forced to rid you of that privilege!" Daos preached these words loudly, as if the air in his lungs was a magic he could manipulate with ease. No mention of a name whatsoever, for the priest knowingly avoided providing curse wielders with the material they needed to craft their dark arts. Not even a hair to pluck for the voodoo doll. Business was a charade he often avoided as well, for it was an unnatural concept devised outside of nature's plan; although he believed some material wealth might be converted in to his next life, trading to the benefit of evils compromised spiritual worth. His pious nature would surely create an impasse for anyone who relied on speechcraft to get what they wanted.

"Begone!!!" Daos yelled. These were the last audible words invoked before the howling winds muffled sound and sight alike.

What was once a bridge, it would be splintered and ripped asunder by the ever growing gale. Daos meant to put motion to his words, and resorted to forced results. Another unnatural phenomenon was the transformation of a tornado in to a hurricane. For Daos, it wasn't all too paradoxical, the butterfly effect saw fit to create a conversion over spanning time; it wouldn't be instantaneous for him, either, but faster than anything mother nature intended. Before long, the vortex would've consumed the bridge, and with it many hundreds of pebbles, a flurry of gravel and wood chips made such a 'warning' quite dangerous. Daos assumed the woman was capable of surviving, but cared not if she didn't, for he was absolved of guilt, killing a heathen in the name of piety and justice.