OOC: Fuck it. Foreshadowing away.
In a small room devoid of furniture a lone figure knelt almost completely still. The room was dimmly lit and curved, flowing with the Infinity Circuit of the Craftword. Around the dark figure orbited 21 glowing objects that interescted, changed paths or dividing into groups seemingly at random. Eldrad Ulthran, chief Farseer of Ulthwe and current head of the seer council was scanning the Skein, the threads of exscitence and time that wove onwards into the darkness of infinity. He gazed over a thousand possibilities, saw the death of his Craftworld over and over, saw himself a bloody smear on the ground. These did not concern him, using his runes he focussed his search, peeling apart the tangled mass of happening to delve into more relevant futures. The Devourer was coming. Many of the threads led to this point. The lives of Warriors who would be killed or those who would fight and survive, embelished with a burning rune...the rune of Khaine. The Craftword would go to war. Eldrad swiftly rose, the room reacting to his thoughts and brightening while his runes ceased flowing around him and returned to his satchel. His loose robe billowed behind him as he turned to the door and slid the wraithbone portal open with a thought wave. The Council must know, a plan of action will be devised and battle plans drawn out by the Autarchs, based on the Seer's readings into the Skein. The door slid closed behind him as he moved down the hallway and out into the Lianderan trees of the Dome of Crystal Seers, passing the solidified forms of the Farseers of old, locked in silent repose for eternity.