Yaziri
The Crimson Jackal Yaziri
Yaziri Mourntide the Crimson Jackal, elsewhere known as They That Hunt In The Shadows is among the eldest of the deities of Arcanorum, rumored to be old when the Eye was young. Widely hailed to be the source of all things Dark, Yaziri is opposed by both Highlord Aeterius and Hyrun through The Ember Light. That said, the motivations of the Crimson Jackal seem at odds with almost every other Divine, even the more destructive and "evil" deities of Arcanorum - why this is, is anyone's guess.
However, with so much opposition, Yaziri still maintains great power over the denizens of the dark: monstrous creatures that seem to meld with the shadow, and disappear into darkness, as well as demonic Simulacrum that seem to leech the very light from nearby torches and lanterns. Any mortal caught in the grip of those that serve They That Hunt In The Shadows are rarely, if ever seen again. The few that do survive such a fate often return blind, or shy away from light as though harmed by it.
In recent years, the conflict between Yaziri and Aeterius has reached a fever pitch, with the two deities avatars, proxies for their powers in the mortal realms, engaged in direct conflict. One battle, twelve years ago, lasted forty days off the shores of the Isle of Krell, with the Isle saved and the forces of darkness in retreat, but Yaziri's champion unbroken.
- Mourntide
- Crimson Jackal
- They That Hunt In The Shadows
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light."
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
~ Dylan Thomas