Gothic City, Midnight
The hour had arrived. The hour for which Grimmwald had sacrificed everything. His name, his friendships, his love - his soul. For weeks now, the Orochi had been flooding the streets of Gothic, not as a red mist of violence, not the Shinigami, but under a guise of normality. As janitors in public hospitals, substitute teachers in schools, electricians in homes, waiters in bars - unassuming and quiet. The Faceless Ones of the Orochi. They spent their days in the mundane, and their nights in espionage, as physical conduits for the Soul Lavaliere embedded in the Horned Saint's chest.
They scavenged hospital halls for the blackened souls of wounded murderers and mobsters, broke into homes for the twisted souls of schoolchildren the Soul Lavaliere revealed as future Charlemagnes and Satars, they hunted everywhere. With eyes lurid and orange like the lavaliere they answered to, the Orochi swarmed their prey like feasting wolves. They dug their fingers into their victims' eyes, sucking the souls from their bodies and leaving nothing behind but eyeless and catatonic husks. Biologically alive but no person to live. And yet, others were left as warnings to the evil Grimmwald sought to punish and damn to extinction. Others limped through the streets pallid and emaciated, their souls disfigured and maimed, and with no will to live.
Emotionally inert and shackled by dread, they simply warned of a prison, a place of eternal torture and anguish that every villain and criminal would be damned to; the heart of the Soul Lavaliere. They walked on, enslaved by the will of the Soul Lavaliere while the Orochi worked to turn Gothic into a place cold and dark; the prison inside the Soul Lavaliere made physical. And they would do so until the criminal element - evil - was well and truly gone from the city's streets. Then and only then would Grimmwald allow the city to know joy and cheer with a chill in the air always there to remind every soul of the consequence to allowing evil into one's heart.
It was the hour. The Horned Saint and his Orochi had come. The Orochi blackened the city, butchering men, making flags from their skin and doing the good deed by feeding the souls of evil to Grimmwald's lavaliere while he claimed his seat in the underground ruins of Gothic's worst; Black House.