Travelers Song

At the edge of the Uldrak region running along the three dragons river, there exists a small village known as Jiri. The village is a simple farming village, and is fairly prosperous with its crops and lumber trade, though like all villages it has had its fair share of tragedies as well. Not long ago the village ran afoul of a plague, a wasting disease that spread over the land and infected man, beast, and wildlife alike. The plague was very contagious, and those catching it usually distanced themselves from there peers in hopes to save friends and family. Within the village was a young man, one of eight sons of a distinguished farmer. The young man, like so many of his age, had dreams of leaving the village and traveling elsewhere, though he knew those dreams were only that. He had a duty to his family, and though he longed for a different life, he was born into this one for a reason. Unfortunately for the young man his dreams were cut short. He saw the signs of the plague within himself quite early, and with a heavy heart told his family he would be leaving the village to find a nice quiet place to meet his end. The young man walked for three days, following a stream connected to the Three Dragons River until he found a nice, cool shaded spot with good tree cover and flat stones for him to rest against. The young man had packed lightly, only enough food for a week or so, since he knew the plague would have claimed him by then, and he doubted that after a day or two he would have much of an appetite anyways. At first the young man thought that his last days would be lonely, except for a few hours of him arriving he was greeted with the beautiful song of a yellow tailed songbird. Across the stream, high atop a tree he saw it, and was comforted by its beautiful soft tunes. Time progressed slowly, and as the days passed the plague grew within the young man, slowly consuming him. It was painful, but he was always refreshed by the same, sad song every day. As the days progressed the land around him began to spoil, the plague either catching up to him, or exuding off of him to corrupt the surrounding land. It was hard for him to move at this point, though he did his best to scoop up some rocks and throw them at the bird. The thought of that song being the last thing he ever heard was a comfort, but such a kind creature deserved a better life than succumbing to such a fate. The bird flew away at the assault, but would always fly back, singing that song across the stream. It wasnt long before the young man could no longer move, and he knew by the tone in the birds voice that it too was infected, as the all the land around him had grown sick. He was saddened the bird had fallen ill, but was happy to hear its tune, even as it faded by the hour. Time passed, and the birds singing stopped. The mans heart was heavy, but his life was slipping away as well, his vision had become dark. As the last of the mans breath escaped him, he heard the bird sing one final, short song, as soft as the wind. The man smiled, and sighed out his last breath as the birds tune faded as well. The man found himself afloat in a sea of silver, shapes of the world moving past him, and he knew that he was being swept away to his final rest, but as he was swept along in the eternal river he heard that enchanting song, and he looked over to see the bird keeping pace with him. He smiled at the bird and said to it sadly. "I want to travel" the bird chirped cheerfully as if to say "I want to sing." The young man smiled. "Lets keep our dreams alive, you and I." reaching out his hand, he touched the small songbird. Jiri woke up upon the rocks and blinked. The land around him was barren and wasted, but the wind was clean, and the stream gave everything a nice fresh smell. Stretching his wings and arms he smiled. The world was a place to wander, and he had a song to take to everyone that would hear it. Sure there were alot of questions, but Jiri had but one answer. His Song. Chirping cheerfully the newborn hengeyokai took wing and sailed into the sky. His travels took him far and wide, and within a couple of days he passed over a small, destroyed village. Whatever foulness had came through here had taken the people of this land, and though he had never seen this village before, he felt he knew it somehow. Jiri circled it once, then twice, then lifted a song in the honor of the dead and began flying north.