"Trumpets, by 7. Plagues, by 4.Then whosoever heareth the sound of the trumpet, and taketh not warning; if the sword cometh, and taketh him away, his blood shall be upon his own head."
The sky trembled, and it's shade warped with the atmosphere. The clouds shivered, their hold in the sky slipping until they fell towards the earth.
The seas cried out, it's earthly blue boiled into a bloody cinnabar by scorching ferocity.
"This sword of mine shall swingeth with the fury of twenty-fold a storm. And he who's blood is upon his own head; Ye, with them, I shall water the seas."