The Tale Of Hisa Hoshimo – Scarlet Lightbringer

The Birth Of A Crusader

Hisa, like the rest of her kin, was born into a fanatical, unforgiving crusade who’s strict goal is to eradicate the planet of all unholy creatures of the dead, and to reclaim the land of Lordaeron. Born during high conflict against the accursed forsaken, Hisa lived a most tortuous life.

Alongside the rest of her kin that had a high potential to use the light, Hisa was scurried away to a secret camp near the ghostlands to where they trained their most promising crusaders for one of their most elite and unknown orders. From since Hisa knew how to stand on her own two feet, she was slashed with pure light from the moment she woke, to the second that she passed out, to the hours of light branded upon her body, the training was excruciatingly difficult and painful. By the time that just one year had passed, more than half of her kin had succumbed to their wounds. Unfit for the light, the Order kept ingraining in them telling them that they were chosen for a greater path that no other human could endure.

Year by year, more of them fell to the unforgiving light, until there were only a few. Blessed they called them. Blessed. Enlightened. The Lights Chosen to bring down the darkness. Whether by sheer willpower or the light protecting her, Hisa was among the last unbroken few to survive such training and to live to see herself become a crusader.

Held in mostly secret to the rest of the Scarlet Crusade, her initiation into her order was as swift as the respite she received during her tutelage, with the high priest branding Hisa in pure light upon the neck, causing her excruciating pain. While others would squeal at such agony, Hisa now relished in it, believing such pain would be felt tenfold upon her enemies. With the ceremony done came a responsibility too great for any common man. To wreak havoc upon those deemed unnatural to the order.

The Fall

Hisa and her Crusaders were ruthless, smiting down any undead filth that came across their path. Day and night they scoured their righteous land cleansing it in their wake. Their methods were questionable to outsiders, but to them it was just. Their way was guided by the light.

After a day of purging the forest from the scum of Azeroth, Hisa returned to the encampment with her comrades, completely soaked with the putrid essence of her foes. Her comrades went to the common room to eat after a tiresome day, while she went to wash her garments in her chambers. During her cleansing and blessing of her gear, she heard a scream come from the common area. She rushed her blessings and equipped her gear as hurriedly as she could and rushed to the hall.

An undead, in the middle of the commons, wearing Scarlet Crusade gear? But how she thought. Quickly the crusaders around the mindless undead smited it with prejudice, leaving nothing but ashes in their wake. But as that one fell, a piercing shriek came from the one that slew it as they slowly turned into an abomination like the one that they just obliterated. Skin slowly peeling from his bone, a left eye dropped right out of the socket, and his jaw dropped to the floor as if it was never connected. But how? But why? What?!

One by one, what were once Hisa’s brothers and sisters in arms fell to the atrocity that is the undead curse. Flesh rotting everywhere, eyes, mouths, ears, and tongues all over the floor. The putrid scent of the undead had the hallowed grounds succumb to its wretchedness. But why not her? Why not Hisa? Everything she knew was being corrupted around her, from the crusaders guarding the quarters to her comrades she just came home from, but why…

With a tear in her eye, she ran to the altar before the accursed noticed. She grabbed the ceremonial hammer and book and made one final blessing, one final prayer for the Crusade to cleanse their souls and to eradicate the curse that is spreading among her people.

As the final words came out of her mouth, they broke into the altar. With a flash of light, Hisa charged at her fallen comrades with a smile, knowing what she was doing was just, that she was saving them from a life of torment and suffering. As more flooded in, she cast judgment upon their souls, freeing them one by one from being a stain on this world, smiling as she struck each one down, knowing the light was with her and her comrades.

As she slew the last of what was once her brethren, she searched around for anything, anyone, but there was nothing left, not a single human soul. She rummaged through every room to find some sort of unholy sigil, some sort of tampering, but she found nothing, not an answer in the entire encampment. The entire order wiped to a single digit, a single person with no evidence in sight. She went back into the common area, where it all began and pondered for a moment.

As she sat down to where her comrades should be sitting down beside her, she noticed that her plate was still there waiting for her. Exhausted from what she just went through she went for the bread on her plate, still unusually warm to the touch considering how long it was there. Just as she was about to put it into her mouth, it struck her like the light on her neck. It was the bread, the food. Everyone bar Hisa had eaten that night, and thanks to her preparing her clothes before she ate she was spared from this wickedness. With this knowledge, she knew what she must do.

The Rebirth

She ran to the Highlord’s room and grabbed his attire and gear, knowing that this was now the burden she must bare as the lone member of her order. As she placed the gear upon her, she prepared the rites of the Highlord. Once prepared, Hisa walked down the altar to claim her title.

The chapel was as eerie as ever, and smelt of burnt innards, but that mattered not to Hisa. She walked up to the altar and knelt and began to chant her divine rites. With the rites complete she channeled the holy light within her to the altar, and placed the highlord’s sigil upon it. The sigil shone a blinding white, with the room filling the air with light, purifying the room that was just a battleground. With the sigil pure, she placed her palm upon it.

The pain was like nothing she had felt before, but was gratifyingly invigorating. She had become the last light for her order. A burden she would bare with for the rest of her life. As the pain subsided and the rites finished, she stared at her now holy-branded hand, permanently reminding her of her duty and honour to her order.

With her hair glowing a sanctified white, Hisa prepared the sanctum for a grand consecration. As she finialised the sigils and the fuel, she went to the stables and prepared her steed.

With a final rite, she lit the grounds ablaze, causing a great heat that could be felt from many miles away. With the consecration complete, and her orders secrets hidden, she rode off on her horse to purify this world from the accursed undead to avenge her order.