Dragonsouls II-The Fall of Ra, It Starts! (LSU's welcome)

[Weasel Overlord]

Dragonsouls II - The Fall of Ra. It Starts!

An RPG by Weasel Overlord

[color=Wheat]The prophecy of the Fire Children has been fulfilled…

The Fire Children have been disbanded…

The twin Dragons, Sastrugen and Tarasque have been joined together in a horrific experiment…

In a hopeless bid to fulfil a mistranslated prophecy, the Fire Children took the lives of Soul-Twinned Dragons, and made them one with each other, creating something that has not been seen for an age…

The Phoenix, Rhama. A joining of power that should never be joined…

But it was foretold …Foretold that the Sun God would fall, and that the Phoenix would need a source of great power to bring about its rebirth...

[I]When the Phoenix of Egypt rises again
The God of the Sun will be no more.
Rhama will find a pairing of Dragons
And will rise again from their ashes.

When the Phoenix of Egypt rises again
He will no longer be alone.
Together with Dragons,
Paired as one,
They will uncover the world from its icy threat,
And the God of the Sun will rise again.[/b]

Rhama himself spoke to the Wind Riders in the temple of the decimated Fire Children...

[color=orange][i]“Great Wind Riders and Dragons. I need you. More importantly, the great Sun God, Ra himself needs you. His power is waning, but not of natural causes. An enemy, somewhere, is draining the power of the Sun God and I have had to seek other ways of rebirth. This should not be. If this mysterious enemy succeeds, it is not only I that will suffer. The earth will suffer, for with no sun, there can be no life, and the human race will die out. Leaving only the plants and creatures to die agonisingly slowly from a lack of light and food. This is why you are needed.

Unfortunately, I only have limited information about this mysterious threat. Whoever it is, they are male, and a mage of truly great power. He possesses the power of ice and cold, similar to that of Yxe and the former Sastrugen and he makes his home on the frozen tundra of the South Pole.
You must first seek the help of the worshippers of Ra. They are few but their skills are unmatched in both battle and magic. They will help you. These worshippers do not come in a form that you have experienced before, but have faith in their skills.
This will be a hard task, but you must eradicate this new threat. First, go to the Pyramids of Egypt, there you will find the worshippers of Ra. There is one among you who knows this place, he will guide you.

For now, that is all I can tell you.”

We start in the ruins of the Fire Children temple. Background to the original story can be found here, http://guild.dragonhame.com/forum/fo...?TID=1239&PN=1 for those who are new, and for those who aren’t, you all know your chars and their abilities, but I’d still like everyone to post their sign-up form, for the new people!

[U]Available characters.

Tiamat (Dragon)
Wind Rider of Tiamat
Three Lycanthropes, preferably varied between magic and combat specialists!

[U]Approved characters.

Yxe (Wind Rider of the late Sastrugen) - Weasel Overlord
Ignis Trucido (Ex-Fire Child sorcerer reject<--What a mouthful!) - Plantae
Eurythion (Dragon) - Nabooru23
Stephan (Wind Rider of Eurythion) - Nabooru23
Athanasius Pound (Wind Rider of Beowulf) - Emotional Faun Chiko-sai
Beowulf (Dragon) - Emotional Faun Chiko-sai
Ra-Harakhte Pterissimon Tskairus (Ra-Harakhte of the Lycnathropes) - Weasel Overlord
Nedjty-Ra Djedkara Inarus Neferkhau (Lycanthrope) - Vulpix.ck87
Wepwawet Astarte (Lycanthrope, sort of...ex leader!) - Emotional Faun Chiko-sai
Marduk (Dragon) - Mystic Clown
Legato Malik (Wind Rider of Marduk) - Mystic Clown
Liraeyl (Lycanthrope) - Plantae
Siyann Eerie Tireney (Wind Rider of Sigurd) - Vulpix.ck87
Sigurd (Dragon) - Vulpix.ck87
Seiryn Dashun Kerne (Wind Rider of Indra) - Sakura12
Indra (Dragon) - Sakura12

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Name: Yxe.

Sex: Male.

Age: 18.

Steed: Sastrugen of the Snow, now joined with Tarasque, in the form of Rhama, the Phoenix of the Sun God.

Affinity: Snow arrow-The arrowheads frost over during flight, thus making the resulting wound heal much slower.
Ice blade-The blades of his throwing knives resemble icicles and are much harder for the wounded to remove.

Appearance: He has medium-length hair in a rich chestnut brown colour. Yxe usually has his fringe swept to one side, the left, and his hair is quite messy at the back. He has one long plait behind his ear that reaches to his shoulder, twined with pure white ribbons and feathers at the bottom. The ribbon is plaited in with his hair and he wears a single silver bead just above the feathers, holding them in place.
His eyes are a pale, frosty blue colour, mostly devoid of emotion unless he is in the company of Minh, his love and soul-mate, when they have a sparkle to them.
Most of the time, Yxe wears simple riding gear in pure white-linen pants and a simple tunic, tied at the waist with a silver belt. The belt is lined with a set of throwing knives, all with identical diamond pommels and bleached bone, hiltless handles. Over his shoulder he carries a longbow and at his waist, attached to his belt is a quiver of arrows.
His clothes are fur-lined because of Sastrugen’s cold and he wears white, fur-topped riding boots.

Personality: Yxe resembles Sastrugen in personality, in that he is quite cold and distant-seeming, but he has a warm heart. He loves the cold of his home and if he is anywhere else he feels too warm and quite ill at ease.
He is gentle but absolutely ferocious when roused. However, after his loss of Sastrugen, he has become melancholy and more prone to silence than usual.
He rarely laughs and is very soft-spoken when he decides to talk, which isn’t often.

Weapon(s): Piercing throwing knives with diamond pommels and bleached bone handles. These knives are very sharp and quite long, in fact, they are almost dirks but for an inch of so. They have excellent balance and Yxe rarely misses with them.
Piercing longbow and arrows.
In addition to his knives, Yxe also carries a longbow. It is white carved ash, very supple and extremely well strung. His arrows are long with white feathered fletching and diamond-tipped arrowheads. The diamond only covers a fraction of the arrowheads but it is enough to make them deadly. Yxe is highly accurate, even with a moving target, as he trained as a Deepwood Sniper as a child. He never usually misses his targets with both longbow and knife.

Relationships: Yxe is in love with Tarasque’s Wind Rider-it’s something to do with the soul-twin thing. They aren’t related, just the Dragons are. Don’t worry, it’s nothing sick...
Other: He grew up with Deepwood Snipers and learned all of their skills before being Found by Sastrugen. The Snipers, finding him alone and orphaned, took him in, gave him one of their names and accepted him into their order of the Elite after seeing his innate skills with a longbow.


~Yxe, Ex-Wind Rider of Sastrugen~

Yxe glanced around the ruins of the Fire-Children temple. So much destruction, all because of one power hungry sect. He ached deep inside; the place in his head usually occupied by Sastrugen was painfully empty, devoid of his voice and comfort. As his thoughts turned, once again, to Sastrugen, Yxe began to shake uncontrollably. He missed him so much. His cooling presence, his calming voice, the way he always made Yxe feel needed.
A tear rolled gently down Yxe’s pale cheek, and he brushed violently at it. Taking a deep breath, he looked at each of the Wind Riders, his Dragon Kyn, in turn. The phoenix, Rhama, had professed his deep need for them. And Ra’s need. And they must rise to the occasion, as they had done when...when...Sastrugen and Tarasque had been taken. Yxe held each of his Kyn’s gazes fiercely, for only a moment. He knew that they were committed to the task, as was he.
“So...” He began, “Where to now?”

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Name: (Ra-Harakhte) Pterissimon Tskairus (Ra-harak-te Teris-imon Skire-uss)

Sex: Male

Age: 27

Appearance: Pterissimon has deep reddy brown hair, similar to the colour of a horse-chestnut/conker, and it is short. He wears it in sort of tufty spikes around his ears that stick up all over the place, like the rest of his hair, which makes him look like he’s been dragged through a rather spiky bush backwards.
He has dark browny hazel eyes with a touch of green about them that are gentle and compassionate, topped by a pair of thin but spiky eyebrows that match the style of his hair, that is, no style at all! And his face is tanned to the colour of, well, light tan...really! Like a sort of coffee colour. That’s coffee with milk in, thank you ver’ much! He wears a longish, dark green tunic with a belt of dark brown, a pair of long, baggy pants in a weird browny purple colour, and a pair of light but sturdy boots.

Personality: Pterissimon has a love of nature and life that seems misplaced at the side of his magical ability. He dislikes attacking in battle, preferring instead to help his companions with healing and supporting spells, even though he has to have some knowledge of attacking spells due to his rank. Despite this fact, Pterissimon is rather fierce when his god is threatened, and this has lead him to become more deeply involved with the protectors of Ra, eventually being voted the title of Ra-Harakhte, which represents Ra’s daily journey from horizon to horizon, and the Priest’s dedication to Ra, which lasts from birth to death.

Animal form: Osprey, and so what if I seem to have a slight obsession… http://www.lynnbean.com/birds-of-prey-osprey-8x10.jpg
His osprey form is more of a browny-russet colour, than browny-white..

Magic specialisation/combat specialisation: Magic specialisation

Spells:
Dome of Shielding- A general shield appears, dome-like in shape, which covers all whom Pterissimon wishes to shield.

Walk Between Worlds (Maybe stolen from High Elves’ High Magic...*shifty eyes*)- Pterissimon becomes ethereal, and invisible to the untrained magical eye. Only affects himself.

Regenerating Wind- An ethereal wind is conjured with a green tinge to it. It blows gently around all whom Pterissimon wishes to heal, enveloping them in healing warmth.

Fury of Ra- An extremely large fireball swells between Pterissimon’s palms, growing until he decides to release its wrath upon the enemies of Ra. Upon its release, the fireball makes a shrill whistling sound as it flies through the air towards its target(s), finally engulfing them in scented flames that devour them quickly.

Other: Erghle...*spouts some Egyptian randomly*

~Ra-Harakhte Pterissimon Tskairus~

Pterissimon ducked and dived around the violently swinging poles somewhere in the cellar region of the Great Pyramid of Ra. Brandishing a wooden training staff, he bent backwards slightly to avoid the first pole, thwacking it with the stave in his hands. The mechanism shuddered and creaked its way to a stop and Pterissimon paused for a quick breather. He hadn’t visited these training halls for a while and his memory of their sequences was poorer than it should have been. He couldn’t remember for the life in him what came next, although he supposed that this was intended by the hall’s creator, Wepwawet Astarte, possibly the most sadistic survival trainer in the history of Ra’s Pyramid. Knowing Astarte, it would probably be dangerous. This was the elite training hall after all.
Pterissimon braced himself for the oncoming barrage that was doubtless to be appearing soon. When the long poles retracted slightly, Pterissimon allowed himself a smile. He remembered now. The poles sprang a vicious set of blades, five on each, set in a spiralling pattern down the poles, which immediately began to spin again, this time much faster and in a random pattern, unlike the predictable formations of the previous.
Astarte herself hadn’t taught Pterissimon, but his trainer had studied her methods thoroughly and imparted his learning to his brightest student.

For this trial, he had to transform. At this thought, Pterissimon was filled with a wild excitement. He adored taking his Osprey form, preferring the freedom of flight to the restrictions of two legs any day. This trial was so fast that he would only be able to evade its vicious blades in his bird form, so he threw down his stave, there was no need for it as an Osprey, and he threw back his head. Making a wild keening noise, he reached inside himself, deep to where his inner self flew. He embraced the bird’s feral touch and felt his skin bubble and slip over his rapidly transforming bones. Arms became wings, fingers became pinion feathers. Legs shortened and mouth sharpened into a vicious hooked beak and a set of sharp talons, perfect for rending and tearing.

He screamed his defiance at the trial and, beating his wings once, he was airborne and filled with the fierce joy that was familiar in this form. He ducked and dived around the gyrating poles, feeling his wings burn under the strain of keeping himself aloft. His aim, so clear in his mind, was just to touch each of the poles without sustaining injury to himself. After this, the trials were ended for the day, and he could relax in his quarters. With this thought in mind, he swept towards the oscillating poles and, touching the nearest one with his talons, he winged away before it got dangerous.

Almost as if the poles had sensed his touch, they began to rotate swiftly towards Pterissimon. He made a satisfied clicking noise and flew higher. Hovering over the pole as it came towards him; he slashed at it with his razor sharp beak, leaving a small groove. That was two down, only one more to go. Pterissimon’s Osprey form was one of the most agile out of the group of Lycanthropes, and this enabled him to get this trial over with quicker than the rest. However, the last pole was always the hardest, somewhat unsurprisingly, so he cleared his mind for the last challenge. This pole would come at him in an arcing sweep, upwards, trying to knock him out of the air.

Pterissimon went into a dive and dodged sideways, away from the pole. His spiralling dive brought him next to the spinning blades and, following them upwards, he swiped with his talons. Upon this last hit, the poles ground to a stop and retracted completely, back into the walls. Pterissimon swooped onto the dusty ground and landed smugly. No injuries today. Wrapping his wings around himself, he bowed his head and sought his human self inside. It was waiting, and, embracing it, he transformed back into a human.

Smiling to himself, Pterissimon picked up his cloak from its place on the floor, swept it over his shoulders and strode jauntily out of the training cellars.

[Plantae]

I'm filling in for both Mire's characters, so expect to see my around here for awhile. If you don't like it, tough. Heh.

Weasel Overlord, it's difficult to get into A'a'ew's character so my post will be a bit later for him. I hope that doesn't inconvenience you much.

Name
Ignis Trucido
Sex
Male
Age
Eighteen
Class
Sorcerer
Appearance
Ignis nearly reaches six feet in heighth, barely a centimeter or two short. His build isn't extremely muscled, but he has lean muscle enough from exercise, though it can't really be used for offensive purposes and rather is for endurance. His eyes are piercing silver that seem able to fathom the deepest thoughts in the world and holding intelligence unknown. His hair is cut chin length and covering his right eye, long black bangs that cover his entire white but clear skinned forehead. Usually messy and untidy, he prefers it that way. Ignis's smirk is wolven and full of white incisors; he's lean and lithe. Silver face paint shaped in a crescent rims both his cheeks. Ignis's moonstone implements are embedded on his palms and forehead, and gray with clouded centers; these are a pentagonal shape, and 2 cm on his palms, 1 cm on his forehead. These embedded gems are .3 cm thick. Ignis's preferred dress is plain dim gray linen pants and tunic, on special occasions he might dawn a modest dim gray robe that covers this and reaches nearly to the floor. When wearing his pants and tunic he can usually be seen with a black belt around the waist and a headband of similar color encircling his forehead and keeping his bangs from falling over his eyes. His feet are clothed in comfortable, though hardy, black riding boots.

Personality
With his envy and the Fire Children disbanded, Ignis's attitude has changed slightly. Ignis is a little more cold and distant due to his newfound knowledge. He's wiser and snappier, quick of tounge and effortlessly charismatic. His genius has grown since the whole affair with Tarasque and though still relatively quiet and calm, he is no longer as afraid of speaking his mind. He's lost a bit of his open mindedness and developed a rigidity to any view that doesn't have decent support, less of a mediator but still able to negotiate with abound. Ignis remains patient and observant, alert to all happening around him, and growing in maturity to develop a personality that is unpredictable. The sinister tone in his voice may be the start of either growth... or corruption.

Weapon
Ignis's has a trained agility capable of dodging most blows, developed even further by magical precognition. He uses no weapon and relies on magical prowess.
Speciality
Balanced agility and magic.

Power
After the end of the Fire Children, some blessing has caused Ignis to undergoe change. He is no longer an average sorcerer, but capable of some greater fate. Overuse of his Essence or Temperature oriented powers can cause both severe headaches and a complete disconnection from these three abilities for several days or even a week.

Regeneration - Ignis' original dismal healing power has developed into an appropriate healing factor. He can regenerate small wounds quite instantaneously and moderate ones with a day's rest. This power also lessens the effect of fatal wounds by taking effect immediately and allowing them to heal over time in a regenerative coma, and prevents death by poison and disease. The process of the regeneration of fatal wounds and the dispelling of disease and poison is quite painful. Through his connection to regeneration, Ignis is also able to spontaneously generate nutrients in his body system. This ability allows him to live off these deposits when food and water are scarce, but it is better for him to eat and drink when possible.

Mentality - Ignis can paralyze most sentients (unless they have a stronger or equal will to his own) with a cruel flash from his moonstone, causing a total nervous system breakdown for five minutes at most with no memory of the incident. Also, he has developed perception far out of human range and the ability to perceive events anywhere his raven (Ode) travels. This ability also includes precognition (the cause of his great agility), allowing him sight ten seconds of the future and a sense towards oncoming and fatal danger, avoiding most assaults. Repeated use of flash can cause it to backfire him.

Essence - Through a manipulation of essence, Ignis can transit to any location in his memory with the appropriate use of energy. This spell will go through if he does not, but will cause a coma to occur once he reaches his destination. Also, he can use a lesser amount of energy to transport several meters and set up and surprise attack on an opponent. With this same power, he can induce complete invisibility (not a sight or sound).

Temperature - Dissimilar to the sole ability of Fire Children to create fire, Ignis has further control of all temperatures. More attuned to the ice side of his power, Ignis can freeze and enemy in place with control of cold to negative three hundred degrees Fahrenheit or throw bolts of icey air with marksman aim, deadly as any sword. In contrast, he can only cause heat to about one hundred degrees Fahrenheit. Through his temperature control and a large portion of his energy, Ignis can cause severe weather and drastic climate change within a ten mile radius (maximum); depending on the severity of the weather and the temperature change, it may be much smaller. However, when controlling weather he loses all control once it starts. Meaning, the storm will not stop until it stabilizes the imbalance caused by his magic and may spin far out of the original power he intended it to have; weather control is very risky and his link to temperature magic (besides his resistance) will be severed for a day because of it and may cause other magic users in its maw to have some of their own control severed. Though not offensive, he also has an utmost resistance to temperature.

Relationships
Ignis has a crush on Sairi.
Other
Ignis's previously ethereal voice has cracked and deepened to a more sinister tone, but contains the same talent and otherworld feel to rival the greatest tune of an uplifting Bard.

History
Ignis's mother, Glacia Trucido, was a devoted Fire Child for quite a time. His father Laq was a middle class citizen of Gaudeo, a small rural village. When a battle with a group of rebels opposing the Fire Children's cause occurred just outside the small wood near Gaudeo, Laq found Glacia wounded in a small clearing and taken for dead by the rest of her sect. Glacia bred a deep resent for her kind in her months spent nursed back to health in Laq's home in the wood near the village. She decided that she was never to go back, and would rather lead a newer simple life. A year later, Ignis was born and both his parents were proud but surprised by the eccentric moonstones embedded in his palms and the small one on his forehead. His mother new immediately of how he had a sorcerer's ability, and fled Gaudeo by night to leave her husband (whom she still loved) alone in his home. Despite her betrayal, Glacia had been one of the Fire Children's most skilled Sorceresses and she knew that if they discovered her child they would take him as their own. Fleeing through the wood, she encountered a fellow Fire Child near another battle scene that had once again arrived near Gaudeo, and she was struck down (her power had long ago waned when she settled) and True was taken despite her desperate effort to save him. Laq found Glacia's body later that day, and has sought Ignis ever since. Ignis, however, was raised thinking his parents were both Fire Child devotees that died honorably in battle with a Wind Rider.

After the Tarasque escapade, Ignis has learned of his true parent's nature and would hate the Fire Children if they still existed. He's developed a resentment of Ra slightly since it was Affy's tears that brought back Sairi and not his, but he won't let this envy hinder him... hopefully. Soon, he will discover his raven, and it will be named Ode.

= Ignis Trucido = M = Sorcerer =

I payed no heed to the resurrection of my companions. Each of them standing upright, mulling through the wreckage. Deep sighs. Yxe's and Minh's pain was obvious, and I couldn't bear to even look towards either of them. Turning my head, I looked at Sairi instead. She was passing through the bodies, group upon group. There wasn't many, but obviously my insolence had caused pain... suffering; where were we to go from here? The memory of her rage earlier stood out from my treacherous actions. She concealed it well, but I knew that there was a part of her that wanted to follow up her blind anger just before the Phoenix. I resisted the urge to show some visible sign of my emotion, how I had been hurt from my own stupidity. What had I been thinking? The prophecy of the Elders had been thwarted, but at what price? The problem was, it seemed that it couldn't have played out any other way now that it had happened. If I hadn't betrayed the Fire Children, my body would be among the rest.

The truth of my past almost made it worth it; I felt like some deep portent in me was unlocked. Coupled with the return of Ra, the magical floodgates inside my conscious had been opened. It was so sudden, but I felt like my untapped potential in sorcery had just surfaced. I reached, as all casters can, deep into my energy reserves. Yes, yes. There was much more than before. Than ever before.

In my discovery, I had been meandering along and clumsily run just against a slight point from the temple's structure. A shallow one inch long gash appeared across my bare lower arm, and I stood amazed as no blood flowed and the wound began to regenerate before my eyes. My mother had been a great sorceress, but I remembered a conversation between the Elders in my first years at the Temple. They had said something about "magical generation" and I hadn't understood, but now it seemed rather obvious. More of it returned to me. They had been talking about my mother's heritage, a sorcerer always has a line of blood that goes back. They had said something about my being the "second ninth generation" and made much hush about it, but I could see it crystal. I had read in a tome once that the most powerful sorcerers were born of bloodline with an additive of work. Magic skipped generations and was spread lightly between them, but in rare cases it was largely deposited in one child of an era. It was losing all modesty to say so, but by second ninth they had meant that I was the second mage to be conceived by a rule of nine generations. Every nine generations a child would be given the potential to become much greater than any of their predecessors. Was I that child?

The rush of memories was acute and my concentration was failing. It was futile to debate it further; greater magic was there and generations were a moot point. Instead of continuing my mental accusation, I teleported back to my room once more. There, I put my red robe in the hearth and burned it. I was Fire Child no longer, and my servitude had no sentimental value.

Preparing to leave in more appropriate tunic and pant for travel and tucking a couple supplies in a rucksack, I was stopped at the door by a sudden sound. I swiveled to look and there, on the mantle, was a small black raven. It tilted its head curiously, and I slowly made my way towards it. I started as it suddenly did a strange hop to go airborn and alighted straight onto my shoulder like it had known me all its life. In my shock, however, I accidentally ended with a foot directly in the fire. I pulled it out hastily, but only my leather boots was burnt. My foot was completely unharmed.

This was something new it seemed. I shrugged, attempting to dislodge the sensation of the bird still resting on my shoulder, keeping still and quiet. Tenatively, I removed the charred boot and placed my bare foot directly into the flame. I withdrew tenfold quicker, but my foot was unmarred. I hadn't hardly even felt the heat. My power was growing indeed. This was quite odd and even more so when I felt the sudden urge to name the bird on my shoulder, as if it had been some familiar. I pushed against it with my left hand, the bird being on my right shoulder, but it stood firm. "Alright, Ode," I addressed it (or him?), wondering how a name had come so naturally to my lips as this. Something about knowing my heritage had made me realize what I was, or at least, more than before.

Skewering my thought pattern, I decided I would have to tolerate the scavenger. It was certainly not leaving and I could almost see these intentions reflected in its black beady eyes. It nuzzled my neck in satisfaction, grabbing a new boots, and teleporting back to the rest of the group with a small effort.

To his great distress, I landed almost on top of "Affy" by accident. He seemed to have just as many thoughts as everyone else, and neither of us were in a mood to apologize. He raised an eyebrow at Ode and something about how he just took it in without questioning made my temper rise. Conceding slightly, I muttered, "Excuse me-" pausing I remembered Sairi's revival along with seeing the images of the whole thing flash through my head again. My temper rose a hair again, "Nausea." He hardly seemed perturbed and shrugged it off without a counter.

In the time it had taken me to do all I had done, no one seemed to have moved from where they were standing. I watched Yxe turn and gaze across each of our faces in turn, passing over mine slightly quicker. His gaze was vapid for a moment, like looking into empty space, and his eyes were forlorn. I wanted to comfort him and Minh, but I didn't really feel like a part of the group and such a gesture would probably go unnoticed amidst such great sorrow. Wasting no time he raised his head and gave an almost invisible inward sigh, asking, "So..." he started, "where to now?" His devotion was admirable, and he was correct. Where were we to go?

A second concern overtook me though. Was my new power to be kept secret? How long would it take before they noticed?

===

The timeline for Ignis' new power was slightly awry. This should patch that up.

[Plantae]

Mire has removed A'a'ew, so I take his place with an even older lycanthrope. Weasel Overlord, I changed Liraeyl to have a water snake form instead.

Name
Liraeyl [See History]
Sex
Female
Age
5092
Appearance
Liraeyl is an icey beauty, flowing obsidian hair to her shoulders often put in a tight braid or bun and unfathomable and irresistably dark blue eyes that breathe her very connection to the sea and stand out from her fair white skin. She is quite tall, dwarfing many males at six feet and seeming quite lithe. Behind her ladylike exterior is an iron grip and a well developed and concealed lean muscle which surprises anyone that dare attempt to caress her. Her facial features are that of a noble, bold and with slightly pointed ears that reveal only the smallest bit of her lycanthrope heritage. Her expression is grim but beautiful in a sorrowful way and when she grins, you best flee from those brilliantly white incisors that hold a deep and almost invisible aura of the sharks of the ocean. Her skin is perfectly unmarred, and despite having the utter appearance of a damsel, a distinct and potent flicker of malice darkens her. Her apparel is simple, a tight undershirt of the finest silk of Egypt and similar pants with a formfitting black robe covering her body and flaring only at the bottom with a tempting "v" collar; her feet are shod in dyed white sandals and her entire apparel is both unstained and unravaged from time. For clothing so modest, however, she appears as if she were royalty. Strangely, a single flawless white pearl with a diameter of a centimeter is embedded in her forehead.

Personality
Liraeyl is a mysterious figure. A sinister and deceptive intellect for a moment, and then a charismatic modern lady. She certainly knows her goals and pursues them with reckless abandon for all who get in her way and an undeniable cruelty. She is unpredictable and strangely primal, but also possessing a great wisdom and ability to seduce even the strongest will that puts even more contrast to an already confusing air. Each of her steps emit immense grace and such is with all her speech, carefully administered and never pleading, even in the face of great danger. Liraeyl is an effortless and brooding queen, though more dangerous. She is one not tempered by vanity or greed for anything except power. Above all, Liraeyl is always looking to gain more magic and for herself only; Liraeyl serves no one unless it benefits her, though this wasn't always so. She'll break all ties of trust for her motives. Still, any who try to assess her are puzzled by sudden displays of compassion or affection, and the matriarch behind the thoughtful assassin and scholar. She stirs thoughts of the seas, wild and gentle in one moment, ever furling and unfurling onward.

Animal Form
She makes a beautiful white and black striped (and amphibious) water snake. Indecipherable from any other but by her fiercely intelligent eyes. Her snake form has natural venom that is deadly within a day unless a dose of antivenom or some other strong medicine is administered. However, she can will it to kill within less by using a larger amount of her power.
Magic Specialization

Power (Spells)
Liraeyl is an oddity even among shapeshifters, having more vulnerability in shifted form than empowerment. As resolution for her almost moot talents in this form, she is likely the fastest flyer of her kind in animal form. Excessive use of scrying may cause severe head pain and disconnection from this ability and the most severe abusing of her water manipulation may cause complete disconnection from the seas, something she dreads to lose. She has the passive ability to breathe underwater regardless of the circumstance and if she has a mental link to water control or not.

Water Manipulation - Liraeyl's manipulation talent allows her the ability to manipulate and control water in liquid state (able to solidify steam or melt ice) with complete sagelike grace and fluidity, moving from form to form like the patient crane and causing her ensorcelled tides to crush each foe in turn. Her most important talent, she relies on her water manipulation for offense and defense. This power seems to have little consequence on her resolve or energy (for quite a while anyway), being the most mastered feat she can perform. When around a large source of water, she becomes even more formidable and if this is coupled with high tide, she is nigh unstoppable for a period of time. She can absorb and create water with enough nutrients to sustain herself without food, but it makes her grow weary. She can only manipulate water in human form, except to create a watery sheath that renders her completely invisible except for a slight shimmer from the water reflection. Liraeyl can create a portal through any form of water to another source of it with ease, though traveling too far causes her to lose a good amount of energy, and can also instantly transport to a near source of water in a time of great need (inducing a short coma). Sea creatures fear and respect her as their mother, having gained that reputation in her years as a shapeshifter. There is one final part of her manipulation, but it has never been unearthed.

Ether - Using a contained source of water, Liraeyl can scry the immediate future for about a day and has danger sense. Premonitions come to her suddenly and violently if a particularly dangerous event is on the horizon, and her excess precognition gives her almost flawless agility in combat. Her perception has similarily developed far out of any other mortal's range.

Healing - Can regenerate wounds within the appropriate downtime well submerged in water and is immune to death by poison or disease. Severe regeneration may cause unexpected and exponentially tormenting pain or a comatose status filled with nightmares of death.

History
Liraeyl was born Aelhe Naen, and is the last descendent of an ancient tribe of fisherman and seafaring folk from before the Egyptian Empire, the scattered society that thrived before any dynasty. Her heritage has been passed from generation to generation, and she too was destined to be the wife of a "noble" fisherman as her father had said, to continue the line. In a freak accident, her father was killed at sea and her mother tumbled into a spell of grief in her early childhood. She was fatherless at age four, similarily when she first discovered her power.

Most weren't known to see manifestations of their power so early in their lives, but Liraeyl was an exception. Even with a clan that lived on the sea, Liraeyl was the only one to ever be born a water mage. By age eight, transformed by grief and with utter devotion to a new goal, she had already taught herself considerable self discipline in her new talent. At age ten, she found her further growth hampered by her mother's strict order, having been reconciled since her father's death and taking up the position of single guardian. Though it was quite the cruel thought for a still small girl, Liraeyl abandoned her mother at the age of twelve and took up a career as a bandit.

All through her first lifetime she gained renown and soon made her own following as a bandit, loosing much connection to the sea but her manipulation of it. By the time she reached sixty, her enduring youth and beauty told her that she was immortal and she continued her effortless quest for more power. Continuing in her exploits as a bandit, though one that didn't do any killing, she rose higher and higher. A legend among the world of men... and women. At the age of seventy, however, she left this life behind to start anew. She disappeared from the face of the Earth and her escapades became tales in time.

In truth, she sought to understand her power further and further. She had gone to the sea and in a tale heralded by one bard in a tome left dusty on a shelf somewhere in the Library of Modern Cairo, she spent one hundred years of utter devotion to her real home. Patiently emptying her mind of all but the knowledge of tomes and of the sea, of her first name, and of power. Her family was completely lost to the ravaging tides of time and her own disposition towards that whole aspect of her life. When she emerged from her cocoon, she was forgotten also and she entered a much different world than the one she had left; Liraeyl entered just as the first united dynasty began in Egypt.

During her departure the war between the upper and lower kingdoms had occurred and the following of Ra had emerged with the rest of the gods of this new nation. Liraeyl had seen premonitions of a snake in her head, but she hadn't known the reptile was her until this new sect asked her to enlist with them, sensing her power. When she joined, hardened by time, even the crazed Wepwawet could no longer surprise her. She was approached as weak by some of them even, so much power resting in her human form and little as in her new snake spirit. All the time she smiled with the satisfaction that her power did surpass some of them at least.

She served under Ra until the 26th Dynasty of Egypt in which, on a mission of importance, received a premonition so frightening that she lost all memory of her past except the tremor of the power. Forlorn, she turned again to the sea and disappeared into the ocean fog one dark morning to go unseen in the world for thousands of years.

Liraeyl spent the entire time deep in the recesses of the ocean, visiting the mermfolk. She swam many rivers and oceans, said to have never set a foot on land during the time. Living on kelp and salt water, something unnatural to anyone. During her vast exile, she slowly remembered the full extent of her power and more but never reconciled a memory of before she had been with Ra's following as a shifter. In her many lifetimes under the waves, she had grown to resent Ra in a strange way and had pledged herself utterly to her own service, laughing deep in the ocean where the light couldn't touch. Dark things grow inside a person in isolation, and so it was with Liraeyl. She swam the water still, and in time became known as the mother to ocean creatures, releasing fish from nets and helping those that would surely drown. Developing her own brand of compassion to fight back the malice that festered in her, the malice which she had the wisdom to know would destroy her, she became known in the legends of Men again as the River Goddess. They christened her Liraeyl in her absence and she heard the whispers of the tides. The name became her own and she blessed herself by tradition of the mermaids of the sea, embedding a pearl in her forehead through the secret technique.

Finally emerging to land again and bidding farewell to those who had called her mother of the sea, Liraeyl found herself in the world like the Renaissance but was hardly daunted by the passage of time. She became part of this new world with the ease of a spy and began to live her lifetimes again as a strange trader, bringing pearl jewelry from the depths. She wandered the lands as this profession and sought a greater purpose, but this was search was brought to an end when the Fire Children emerged.

During the years of the sect, she hid in the most arctic waters and developed an even deeper cruelty and cold undertone upon her buried resentment of the sun god. She was conflicted between her own motives and serving her god. In the end, her brooding in the icey waters was an argument won by personal ambition. Now, with the call for all the shapeshifters to return to service, Liraeyl has once again taken up her residence with the rest of the Lycanthropes. Her loyalty remains seemingly unfettered, but underneath she is beginning to contemplate another path.

Other
Liraeyl never grows tired of dropping unexpected deluges of water on the people she dislikes, the only possible sign of a childhood in her at all. She relishes in being one of the oldest Lycanthropes, having seen more lifetimes than even Wepwawet. Due to her age, Pterissmon being leader is something she thinks as a great injustice and it has only furthered her perception of the Sun God.

= Liraeyl =

I stroked the hieroglyphed walls of my room inside the Temple of Ra, remembering for the first time what it had been like to serve the sun god. Those days had been full of peacekeeping and frustrating, but secretly I resented ever having that premonition long ago. Still, I knew that I held more allegiance now to the waters of the world than its brightest star.

Thinking again of how I longed to return there, I gazed deep into the water at my bedside where I was sitting. In my absence the sheets had not been maintained and had all but withered away. No one, however, had dared touch my scrying bowl. Exerting a force of magic, I breathed cold vapor into the contained pool and whispered, "The Temple of the Fire Children." Just as expected, all I saw was ruins and the forlorn Wind Riders mulling through them. In the faces in the pool I knew Minh and Yxe, even in my absence I had learned of these two. The supposed entwined souls. All that was in their eyes was pain as they and the others discussed where they were to go next. They would soon come to the Temple of Ra, I knew. I also knew almost how much heartache Yxe and Minh were suffering. I too had had things torn from me.

I casually moved the intention of the spell to settle over each other member of their party, knowing some Wind Riders and their Dragons, and others whose names and faces I had forgotten. My particular interest settled on a pale black-haired mage with his crescent tattoos. Obviously I had underestimated a Wind Rider's power of intimidation. It seemed they had even turned one of the Fire Children before the end. I smiled as his face showed the familiar look of hidden motives, but I was beginning to feel the ebb and flow of my magic. There was no use wasting any measure of power to continue this spy business. The water settled with a sweep of my hand, and I exited my room with haste, even though there was no reason to have any. It couldn't be too close, I assured myself, but I could feel that in the future a new power would hold the attention of this world. Despite being his "servants," I had heard little yet of our enemy. The Ice Mage in the North. Or rather, of the North.

Entering the hallway I noticed Pterissmon, sweating somewhat and showing the slight semblance of a bird. He had been training, I concluded. With a manner of cruelty in me, still reeling from "Ra's" decision in my absence, I began to trot towards him with an evident look of defiance as my expression. I deserved leader. I was the oldest lycanthrope yet living, at least I was almost sure, and my service during my years here had been nothing less than exemplary. Having had the opportunity, I would have doused the flame of the Fire Children.

"You seem a bit unclean," I stated to Pterissmon, remaining composed but he obviously saw the glint of trickery in my eye. "Perhaps you need a bath?" I offered it innocently, but I had conjured a deluge of water within an instant and sharply brought my raised hand downwards. I strutted past him, curious if the reason he hadn't bothered to dodge was because I surprised him, or that he felt some need to not descend to my level. I sneered and emitted a "hmph" aloud as the second option crossed my mind.

===

[Weasel Overlord]

[CENTER]“Hmm.” The white-clad man twirled his staff thoughtfully as he reclined upon the frozen wasteland that was his life. Not feeling the cold, he laid back, a mildly worried expression on his face.

For he had been scrying in the deep ice, and what he saw there changed everything.

His pale blue eyes narrowed. He would show no mercy. Even if...even if the Wind Riders got involved.

His task was between himself and Ra and it needed no other.

He brushed his chestnut hair out of his cold face and sat back up. Crossing his legs, he placed his hands gently in his lap and closed his eyes, extinguishing their cold blueness. Letting his mind go blank, he drifted.

[Plantae]

= Liraeyl =

I hadn't intended to leave the temple, but part of the Nile River was near the extent of our hidden pyramid. It was getting closer to dark and the heat of the afternoon was waning, leaving a distinct bite of cold in the air. However, for me it was more of a pleasant feeling. A first step into water gave the same feeling.

I had gone to the river just for the fresh air and maybe to have a quick rest in shifted form. What I hadn't intended to do was to suddenly receive a scryed image in the water. Raising my head to the skies I shouted, "God works in mysterious ways, does he! You're hardly subtle Ra!" Glancing downward, I saw the image of a wild dog and recognized the plains just upstream from here. The message wasn't clear at first, and I continually gazed at it. After a couple more seconds, it came to me. "Wepwawet!" I shouted it aloud, and a couple nearby birds scattered. Sighing inwardly, I communed with the water and dipped a single finger in. In a fraction of a second, I rose from the pocket like some watery goddess downstream. Walking deftly up the steep bank, I waited for some sign of my charge.

Ten minutes passed as I nonchalantly swished my fingers through the water, drawing fish to me in the process who I gave some bread crumbs from my pocket. As the seconds meandered to minutes, and a quarter hour, a rustling in the bushes drew my attention. Twenty feet further down, I saw Wepwawet emerge in her Wild Dog form and wander carefully to the riverside. Evidently, she noticed my eyes on her, but she handled it relatively sanely. Shooting me a glance like, "What are you doing here? Leave," she casually lapped up her share of this clean and shallow part of the river, a tributary. I grinned ruefully. She obviously hadn't forgotten the Lycanthrope closest to her own age, even if she remembered only vaguely.

Splashing her with a bit of water to catch her notice, I strode up to her and insisted, "Wepwawet. Drop your guise promptly. I have business with you." Growling incessantly, she pretended that she hadn't heard. Obviously continuing indifference towards the affairs of Ra's contingent. I wasn't giving in that easy, and did something no one else would have dared do. I doubted even another Lycanthrope would want to annoy Wepwawet too much. I would not stand to be ignored, however. In a swift movement, I reached and tugged on her ear. Well, tugged as in a hair more pull and it would have almost ripped off. I assumed, like most animals, that she would have great sensitivity about her ears being touched.

That got her attention promptly, as I knew how to show strength when it was necessary. She turned, bristling with annoyance. Keeping composed both inside and outside, I gestured with my eyes and offered as if we had been having a conversation over dinner, "Astarte. Reveal yourself. I want to speak with you and I will not be kept waiting." Letting off one last menacing growl and howling rather inappropriately, or at least by my view, she transformed back into Human Form and came out with a firm and pointed grin planted on her face.

"What is it, Leer-aye-el." She pronounced each syllable distastefully, showing some semblance of anger for my calling her by her given name.

I returned the smile as ruthlessly, and continued with no hesitation. "No illusions, Wepwawet. Ra brought me to you, or so I'd assume-" she interrupted with a yawn, an exaggerated moan that was almost the chorus of a wolf, "he must want you for something. Besides, frollicking around the wilderness is hardly proper for an 'opener of ways,' now."

===

[Weasel Overlord]

[CENTER]~Yxe, Former Wind Rider of Sastrugen~

Yxe felt lost. Floating in a sea of despair without his Soul-Mate to anchor him to life, he drifted, alone except for the gentle touch of Minh. Reminding him of life and his charges.

Yxe surfaced to find his Kyn looking at him, as if waiting for him to decide upon their course of action.

“The Phoenix...” He began, somewhat weakly. “The Phoenix told us...” A ferocious rumbling from beneath cut off his words. The ground shook violently, as if trying to expel a bug from the surface of its skin. Yxe steadied himself on Minh and sighed.

“It looks like the Island doesn’t want us here anymore.” Remarked Affy, with an ironic smile. Yxe smiled weakly at this attempt to cheer everyone up, and resolved to act stronger, for the group. His fists clenched.

“It seems we don’t have much time to deliberate our actions. We all heard the Phoenix...” His voice broke slightly at this reference and he made a visible effort to control himself.

“The Phoenix said that Ra was failing. We have to help him. Rhama mentioned a group of...”

“Lycanthropes.” Cut in Ignis. “Yes. But how do we persuade them?”

“If Rhama is correct, then they know of our coming and will already be prepared for it. They are situated in Egypt, and we will have to use our animal forms,” He looked at each of the Dragons in turn, “To get us past any sentries or guards we may experience. We cannot just drop into the middle of Egypt, a horde of Dragons and their Riders, and not expect to be noticed.” Yxe’s determination grew as he spoke; he felt his sorrow fade in the light of the coming task. Fade, but not disappear entirely. There would be time to mourn Sastrugen later. For now, however, they had a task to do. An important one, at that. Recruit the Lycanthropes, Rhama had said.

“First, we need to get to Egypt. I suggest that each one of us goes our separate ways. Ways we know best. All I ask is for one of you to transport myself and Minh...as we...we...” He broke off, the words too painful to be said aloud. The volcano rumbled.

“I suggest we get a move on...the island is getting unstable.” The first words Minh had said since Rhama had appeared. She had lost none of her old commanding nature. Yxe was pleased. Maybe this mission would be possible after all...

[Emotional Faun Chiko-sai]

The number of protons is equal to the number of electrons (in an atom) is equal to the nucleon number minus the number of neutrons is equal to the proton number.
...if I can recite that, in English, I'm probably not dead.

Name: Wepwawet (given name, Astarte)
Sex: Female
Age: A few thousand years at the very least; looks about 20 in human form, though.
Species: (I know, this isn't a field) Demigod
Appearance: Human - Golden-skinned and thin, to the point that her ribs can be seen, about 5'10" tall. Her hair is long, spiked in a disorderly manner, tawny at the roots and darkening to almost black at the tips. Her face is angular and her eyes yellow. Her ears are pointed and her teeth have become carnassial-like, with distinct, sharp fangs and pointed molars. There are symbols and circles painted on her forehead, forearms, and ankles in ash. She wears Grecian-like draperies, which are in a ragged state and hiked up above her knees for freedom of movement. Has a large collar-like necklace with bronze links.
Wild dog - lots of pics here
Personality: A consummate sadist, Wepwawet is happiest when hurting people, all the while grinning a grin that shows off all 32 of her pointy teeth. Very contrary in nature and likely to go left if you ask her to go right; also, gets bored easily. She has been to the ends of the earth and back again; her survival skills are unparalleled. She has ways and means of getting what she wants that are not necessarily scrupulous. Her way of showing pleasure towards someone is a kick in the back. It is suspected that she is terminally unstable, although this hasn't been proved. She certainly acts like a violent, extremist loon, though. Most people... avoid her.
Animal form: African hunting dog
Magic specialisation/combat specialisation: Combat
Spells (if magic specialist): Nyet
Weapon (if combat specialist): Wepwawet is skilled in all arts of killing, butchering, and/or wounding in either human or animal form. She doesn't have fancy names for them, nor is it known if she calls them anything at all besides defense skills. Er. Probably teeth. She can fashion makeshift weapons out of almost anything.
Other: Is NOT a worshipper of Ra, although she is part of the royal house of Ra, and commanded the division of war. She was formerly Ra's representative in his votive temple on earth, and contributed much to the fact that the pyramids have more booby traps and secret passages than they should, but got bored. She left her post, adopting animal form to live with the dogs, shunning all human contact. She has lived in the wild for approximately two millenia, although retains her former knowledge of tactics and sacred texts(prophecies and such) under a semi-crazed exterior. Wepwawet ('opener of the ways') is a hereditary title passed on within the family from father or mother to the child who shows greatest prowess in elements of war; her given name is actually Astarte, although her title is Wepwawet and should be addressed as such. She is also the last person in the universe anyone in their right mind would want for a survival trainer.
------------------
Wepwawet
"Smile Like You Mean It"
----------------------------

The cubs were uneasy. They were frightened, and did not fight their play fights as they usually did. They would not go to the river, though they were thirsty. They would not budge, even when cuffed by herself, and that was something.

The pack dismissed this as childish, irrational fear, such as human children fear the bogeyman, but she told them to go away and hunt their gazelle, and not come back till they had downed at least two adults, not like the little bit of yearling that they had managed to savage a day ago. The pack slunk away, grumbling about the temper of the old matriarch that got shorter and shorter each season, but not too loudly, just in case she overheard and did something dangerous to their health about it.

Of course she heard, but she was not in the right mood for punishing errant underlings. And then she carried the cubs roughly to the hole in the sandbank and told them to stay there, or else. Then she stalked imperiously to the stream.

Because she knew better. Because she was the one best to talk about fear, and its incarnations. Because once, for a time, in her brilliant and admirable history as the proverbial trap-door-lover, she had been fear itself.

It was somebody. Scryer, sneaker, water-goddess, distrusted colleague, serpent. She did not wish to remember the name, but the reputation remained.

And she dared pull her ear, as if she were the lady of the manor pulling the ear of a disobedient maid! How could she forget? and then she remembered power plays, loss of faith, golden decadence, duties neglected, and sparring never finished; and then she changed her shape into the Once-Was. She remembered how. And nobody used her real name, now. Nobody cared to, or they had all forgotten. Even those that remembered the Wepwawet forgot the Astarte.

She spoke the name of the somebody - Liraeyl it was, wasn't it - as if repeating a particularly distasteful poem that she'd had to memorise in school.

The somebody Liraeyl continued her nag: "Opener of the ways, you disgust me."

'As you do I," she replied, tasting every word as she had not done for an age. Her voice came in hoarse and guttural syllables, spiking the words through with an alien element of dog. Wepwawet raked her nails through her snarled hair, and saw that matted hair posed a bigger problem than merely matted fur. Liraeyl, exasperated, lunged for her, but Wepwawet had been watching for this, and dodged neatly, and saw the mark left on the ground when Liraeyl straightened back up. And she was - not afraid, never - she was wary. If the other had seriously been aiming to maim, she would have had to dodge many times, not just once.

She settled into a crouch, and looked up into the water goddess' impassive face with her yellow eyes. "You already know I am not interested. I was the opener of the ways, and the luck of the war, and they sang songs in the temples to ensure that I remained with them, always; but the key word is 'was'. And I see no point in participating in a futile war for an ancestor that does not show his face to anyone."

"You were the one who left, first," said the water goddess, imperturbable.

"Then it is a further indication of my continued and prolonged disinterest in the matter."

"You will die."

"I'll die, eventually."

"People will say that you had not gall enough to fight in the war."

"And I will disembowel every last one of them that says so, without a doubt."

"You are a coward who hides behind the face of the former Wepwawet, and a shame to the title." Now the water goddess was deliberately provoking her, and if Wepwawet had been the old Wepwawet she would have known it, but she had been in extremely provokable dog form for too long a time, and she rose to the bait. Besides, she could not deny that she showed a tiny prickling of interest in what had become of her pet pyramid, and whether the traps, all one thousand and more of them, were still in service. And thus, the bait was welcome.

"You say that?" she snarled. "You, who ran away from your last mission? You who hide in the waters and pretend to the name of the Ocean Mother?"

"At least I have made known my presence in the temple as a fighter in the ranks of Ra. By the way, I find it difficult to believe you are satisfied here, leading these mangy dogs-"

"The traps," rasped Wepwawet, pupils dilating. "My traps. Are they still... there?"

"Traps," said Liraeyl, pausing to think what the other could mean. "There are many. They are still used. People die, springing some of them. What of the traps?"

"I set them. I want to see them. I want to see the bones."

"So you are coming with me?"

"The bones. All white and bleached, and the cobwebs in the small windows. Dried blood in patches on the walls. It will be... satisfying."

"Let's go, then."
-----------------------------------
Apologies if there is gross OOCness or anything else stupid I may have typed. I'm so hungryyy.... *goes down to dinner*

[Vulpix.ck87]

Bah, hope you know that posting almost killed me WO ~_~ Can't blame me for my shoddy confusing post so there :p

Name: Djedkara Inarus (Nedjty-Ra) Neferkhau. But you can call him Djed [Jed].
Sex: Male
Age: 22
Appearance: Hmm.. Ruggedly handsome?? Though he’s easily 6'2", he’s not lanky at all. Instead he’s got a good build, not overly muscled but instead able to stand his ground very much so, whilst remaining quite lithe and athletic at the same time. Push this boy and he'll push you back. HARDER. Got that Sonny Jim??!? Anyway.. While his mother was a native Egyptian, his father was an American thief (or whatever passes for an American in your dragony little world O_o ), therefore he doesn’t have the typical Egyptian look. His skin is a bronzed cream-tan, slightly weather worn but still young n’ supple ^^. His hair - mostly cropped a mere two inches from his head and constantly windswept - was formerly light brown, yet is now a tawny golden blonde, bleached by the sun. His eyes are as dark as night, passionate, his mother’s eyes. He has bold, defiant features, but he is usually smiling in jest so his strong, gold-stubbled chin and general expression is softened. When focused on something he becomes infinitely more hawk like, his dark brow furrowed, eyes intense and his figure somehow more angular, as if ready to take flight.

He often wears an open cream linen shirt, ripped and torn as though by the wind itself, and a raggedy dark-brown linen kilt that reaches halfway down his thigh, though I have to mention that he DOES have underwear beneath it.. So don’t get too excited girls ¬_¬;; Other than that all he wears is a pair of thin sandals, made of woven rush and soled with leather. He might don a hooded cloak for ceremonies and the desert I suppose..
Personality: He’s two different people to be honest: (1) The tall, silent guy, respectful to the priests in the temples; polite, well spoken and direct. Quick, alert, intelligent and determined, if there’s a battle or a task at hand, he’ll go in there and he’ll get the job done. He worships Ra with all his heart, and doesn’t abuse his god given gift. On the other hand..
He’s guy (2): an amiable rogue who lived half his life as a street urchin after his mother passed away, and after his father passed on the family trade. He’s a bit of a scoundrel even after his, but he means well, and he cares deeply for those around him. He likes a good laugh, and enjoys flying more than anything in the world.
Animal form: Lanner falcon, rather larger than usual, looks like this: Lanner falcon
Magic specialisation/combat specialisation: Combat
Weapon (if combat specialist) : He carries a halberd with him, like this . Imagine the pole’s a bit longer and thicker, and imagine him wielding it in a menacing fashion
Force of the ancients - Channelling the strength of the gods gives the pole an unblockable force - bone shatteringly powerful.
Fever blade - The piercing halberd head flames with Ra’s fire and light, both temporarily blinding the opponent and, when the blade penetrates the skin, it cauterises the wound and inflicts a fever upon the foe within a matter of minutes.
Other: Noobly noobly noo…? Oh, um.. Nedjty-Ra means “Protector of Ra”. That’s his rank in the Ra worshipping society ^^ I suppose there’s a temple of these guys or something??

Jhoszom of the Aeriqet Brotherhood

An empty desert stretched out before him, full of the beautiful ochre yellows and bronzed golds that are unique to a desert’s sands, yet Jhoszom’s fatigued eyes, seared by the sun, perceived them only as a blazing white by now. With his head hung low, only a thin strip of blue entered the very edge of his peripheral vision - the midday sky hung suspended above the rolling hills of ochre before him. Filmy and transparent, it wavered with the unbearable heat, and the monk could not bear to focus upon it for the dizziness it induced. Fine grains of sand sifted through his open toed sandals again and again, scorching the underside of his feet. This had been his only wake up call in this silent land, though after so many hours even such pain subsided into monotony.

Of the little he was aware of, Jhoszom knew he had not been travelling for very long - the smattering of crisp stubble that stood harsh on his cheek told of only a day old beard - but the dunes has such a way of encompassing one that it felt like he had been journeying for many years now. The task had seemed so simple when he was dropped off in the desert with his companions and their camels, but things had gotten complicated, and now he was all alone and his transport forever lost to the desert. Whatever headwind he had made, the triumph was lost within the repetitive nature of his environment - each dune tackled brought forth another, and every time it was as if he was starting his arduous journey all over again.

Heat waves rippled upwards through the sky like a faint vertical ocean in which the waves never broke, and upon one of these waves rode a lone falcon, a skyward surfer of the blue. Large brown eyes surveyed the surroundings, coming to focus upon the distant cloaked traveller with crystal clear acuity. If it were but a bird, the falcon’s face would have surely reflected pure satisfaction, but the sky borne raptor managed to give off an undeniable air of contentment anyway.

The young man below watches the bird rise and fall beyond the dunes once again. ‘Cursed creature,’ he scowls to himself, certain that the bird is already picking at his remains in it’s own optimistic mind. And the wretched bird might as well get what it hopes for anyway, Jhoszom thought, I will certainly not last much longer out here. Yet though he scorns the creature, the man has unknowingly been following the falcon for the last half an hour, almost hypnotized by it’s fluctuating ride upon the thermals and the golden light sifting through it’s tan feathers, and in result he is heading in precisely the direction he had hoped. Though of course to him, this mysterious guide is just another scavenger, searching for carrion, or that what would soon be. The young monk sighed.

He had come from the small city of Aekterbet, a place heavily steeped in religion, though he himself had never had a say in his destiny. His father had promised the boy to his order from before his birth, and though life in the brotherhood had been comfortable so far, it had certainly had not prepared him for this. Though it had not been intended that he wander the desert alone, it had been a possibility of late, and he knew that those in higher power thought him.. Disposable. The priests or Aekterbet entrusted him with a duty though, and this was incentive enough for him to even attempt this journey. Strange times called for desperate measures, and yes, it was his duty, thought the young monk, his duty to get there. The priests of Aekterbet told him everything that he, Jhoszom, and their distant relations in the Pyramids of Ra needed to know. The Dragons were heading to Egypt. This is bigger than one monk, thought Jhoszom. This may be Egypt’s entire fate!! The dragons could bring war, for all we know!! He had to make it to the pyramids then, and warn the others..

And whilst he worked hastily on convincing his brain of this and to endure the torturous rays of light that managed to penetrate even the enormous hiding cowl of his hood with their immense heat, he could not convince his fatigued muscles to keep working, nor his leaden feet to keep walking. He tumbled forward to his cloaked knees, one bandaged hand pushed flat against the scorching sand and holding up his crooked figure, whilst the other hand desperately sought his dwindling supply of water. He took a hasty gulp at the rationed water, and then found himself sucking on dry air.

“Grarh!!” Said the young monk, barely 18, in frustration. He bared his teeth at the bird which had just landed on the sands before him, and he threw his empty flask at it in a rage, though his weak volley fell short. Leering at the falcon with what little strength remained, which was a foolish thing to do, but necessary, he thought, he yelled a mixture of cursed words and resilient profanities as he stumbled once more. The Gods creatures or no, he wasn’t going to let them finish him yet, but the bird merely remained upon the burning sand with no indication of fear..

“Stupid hawk.” He grumbled, and the bird fixed him with an intense somehow disdainful look, before hopping up and, with a few brisk beats of it’s slender wings, swept past him from behind, clipping the fallen monk over his head as he flew by. The monk cursed again as his hood was knocked back, and in an instant he was blinded by the sun’s renewed glare in his now exposed eyes. His retinas blazed white, and he swayed back and forth on the sand, helpless in his blinded state. He groped for his hood, and eventually cast his drawn face into shade once more. As his sight came back to him though, blotchy at first and swimming with stars, he saw no mocking hawk. Instead, a pair of bare feet were planted firmly in the sand, and Jhoszom stopped his cursing abruptly. After stuttering for a moment in awe, he remembered why he was there.

“Stranger!” he rasped, throat dry, “I bring forth news, great and urgent news, of beasts whose great talons have not pocked the sands nor earth of this land for many centuries.” He said, almost proud that he had delivered his message to someone. He paused, licked his dry lips, then added, as an afterthought. “Do you have any water?”

The stranger untied a goatskin flask from his belt and passed it to the floundering boy. He let him take a couple of large gulps before he replied.

“Why were you sent, boy?” The stranger asked, and Jhoszom blinked up at him in confusion. The stranger, taller than most men and of a strong build, gazed down at him stonily. His bronzed face and dark eyes showed no indication that he had heard what the boy just stated.

“I-I bring forth news-” Jhoszom started again, but the tall stranger just waved his hand impatiently.

“I heard that bit. I meant why were you sent?” He asked once more, though the question only became clear this time round. “I have been watching you for a short while boy, and I now realise you are a monk-” He paused for a moment, as if tasting the bitterness of the word within his mouth, as he looked at the boy’s now uncloaked head, which bore the traditional haircut of the eastern monasteries. “-which is not what we were expecting. Especially not alone, unprepared and unaccompanied.”

“I have lost my company,” the young man explained anxiously, “yet this is not important, for if I do not deliver this message we shall all be lost. You must guide me immediately to the sands of the pyramids, kind sir, and to the priests who dwell amongst the tombs!”

“How do I know you’re not a threat?”

“I am but a messenger!”

“I know the priests of Aekterbet, they do not send mere monks to bring their news or do their bidding within the halls of the pyramids of Ra. Why send forth you?” The monk the man stared down upon, still on his knees, seemed to do a double take on what he heard. The stranger knew exactly where Jhoszom had come from.. And so, with no other answer at hand, Jhoszom told the truth.

“I am disposable, am I not? I walk the desert at their risk, with little to guide me but a common buzzard, or so it would seem.” Spat the young man bitterly. The truth hurt. The tall stranger did not lend much pity to poor Jhoszom, but he suddenly grinned.

“That was no hawk, fool. And indeed, you should be honoured to walk in the path Horus’ own has set before you. Follow what signs you are given with unwavering faith if you wish to survive the desert you braved. You will reach your destination. You have already passed the border.”

“I am close then?? I thought I must be, you brave the desert without even sandals..” he looked imploringly at Djed’s bare feet. When he looked back up the tall stranger caught his gaze for the first time, and though it almost hurt the monk to look into those eyes he found he was enraptured, and could not look away. A line of understanding passed between them as their dark eyes met, and finally the young messenger realised what stood before him.

“I travel not by the earth, but by the skies, for the road beneath our feet ever changes with the winds.” Djedkara spoke quietly and sincerely, not to the monk or to himself, but as though an oath. He said no more as he turned to the skies, intense eyes focused upon a point unseen to the monk, and as the monk watched, it appeared like the very sun was wrapping itself around the lycanthrope that stood before him, igniting his bones with it’s golden warmth. In one smooth motion: the light that fell upon the man shattered into a thousand feather shaped shards of gold, and each shard fractured to form a thousand vanes; his face tore apart as a viciously hooked beak replaced his nose and mouth; his delicate toes merged and separated, curving into wicked rending talons. His breast bleached cream white and his back blurred dark brown; and as his tail feathers fanned out behind him Djed reached upwards, his arms stretching up to stroke the very air itself, and he took flight.

The falcon flew once more, and the messenger hobbled on, over the dunes and onto the pyramids.


Okay, because im tired and probably didn't get much across in that.. Jhoszom's a young monk sent with a group of people from his monastery to deliver a message to the lycanthropes and priests at the Pyramids of Ra!! The message contains something foreseen by the priests at Aekterbet, wherever that is.. and it's about the dragons heading to the pyramids. But the priests at Aekterbet didn't quite know why the dragons where coming(they thought it was war, the dumbasses), just sent the messenger to tell them. He lost his party as he journeyed through the desert, heck they're probably dead or something, but then he met Djed, my guy, who is leading him to the temple of Ra-majiggy. Of course, it was kind of all in vain since Liraeyl knows alot more about it than he does. Sigh...

[Vulpix.ck87]

Next!

Name: Siyann Eerie Tierney [Cyan/ Sai-yan Ear-ree Tea-er-nee] or Sai, basically.
Sex: Female
Age: 17
Steed: Sigurd of the seas
Appearance: Siyann's hair consists of thick wavy locks of different lengths, dark blue in color with metallicy hues. It hangs about her face, and reaches the nape of her neck where it furls and twists. Her wavy fringe hangs in front of - and mostly hides - her eyes, reaching half way down her small, slightly crooked nose, with some strands reaching her chin, and no further. Not always being able to see, she often sweeps her fringe back, and then you can see two startling eyes, each different yet equally beautiful. One the color of a deep blue sea, the other a rich forest green. Also her scar is revealed, a thin white line that runs up the bridge of her nose and right along the center of her forehead. She is quite pretty nevertheless though, and her strong chin gives her a capable look. Her skin is peach-white and smooth. She's about 5'8, slim and agile.
She wears a floaty pale blue skirt that reaches to her calves, her right ear is thrice pierced: twice at the bottom with a tiny shark fang on a dangling silver chain and a stud; and with a small silver ring at the top. She wears a delicate dark blue strapped top, and carries a simple one strap white fabric bag over her shoulder. She often goes bare foot, but when travelling she usually wears a pair of flat-soled, tight, white boots, decorated with stitch and with glinting spurs at the heels.
Personality: Like sigurd, her mood can swiftly change, but for the most part she's calm, relaxed and casual. Sigurd's not the oldest and therefore doesn't feel responsible for the others so much, and this reflects in Siyann, though she has grown very close to a few of her fellow windriders. In battle she's thorough, efficient and clean, and does no more damage than necessary - she takes no pleasure in killing. She's not afraid of her enemies, but she's certainly not reckless, she tries not to underestimate. In a relaxed situation, she's pretty playful, quite upbeat, and easy to get along with. Sometimes though, and it always takes you by surprise, she can become cold and full of a quiet rage, and come crashing down upon you like a wave upon the shore, and leave you devastated. She’s been a little quieter and more thoughtful since the whole phoenix thing though..
Weapon(s): http://www.schoolnet.ca/aboriginal/...ogy/harpoon.gif The detachable head is made with metal and braided sinew and cord, attached to a narrow shaft, and is extremely sharp. The harpoon itself is light in weight - long, slender and javelin like. The spear is fitted with a barbed head, and used with an attatched line for retrieval. The aquamarine stone is set within the spear head.
She also carries a short piercing dagger, excellant for close swift work, and has the aquamarine stone set in the pommel.
Affinity: Water:
Mist Harp - for quick retrieval of the harpoon, the spear dissociates into mist, then reforms away from the victim.
Pulse - when stabbing a foe with either dagger or harpoon, on contact the weapon emits a pulse of water and depending on the force of the attack it can wind, stun or rupture cells in a foe.
Ocean call- by dipping her dagger in the water she can call, and to some degree control, the water itself to aid her against foes
Relationships: Her fellow windriders, naturally.
Other: She still calls her Grandmother’s rest house her home, and always expects to be returning there at the end of a long day, but nevertheless seems to have accepted this new reality, full of travel, death and magic. If she’s confused, she’s trying hard not to show it, but she thinks maybe she’s just being swept along with the whole thing at the moment. She’s not quite sure what she’s doing but hell, she wasn’t born a dragonsoul for nothing..

Siyann, wind Rider of Sigurd

“First, we need to get to Egypt. I suggest that each one of us goes our separate ways. Ways we know best. All I ask is for one of you to transport myself and Minh...as we...we...” Yxe hesitated, and stumbled over the words as his voice choked.

Siyann gazed sadly to Yxe and Minh, then looked away. She could not bear to see them like this, and she knew they must hurt so much inside.. Even she, who had previously assumed she had little connection to Sastrugen and Tarasque, could feel their loss inside. They still lived on in a way, she supposed.. The phoenix that had departed after it’s heart rending plea? But did any of the two dragons consciousness still remain within it? The volcano suddenly rumbled, a distant roar that reverberated through the ground beneath Siyann’s feet. She tried not to think about how much it reminded her of Tarasque. Siyann glanced up nervously at Minh, who had a look of stony detachment upon her face as she held onto Yxe for comfort. When she spoke, she spoke quietly, but a strength could still be heard amongst the heartache. Minh was not defeated yet.

“I suggest we get a move on..” She stated. “The island is getting unstable.” Many of her kin murmured words of immense approval - it sounded like the whole place was going to blow pretty soon. Everyone turned hastily, and walked at a fast pace to open ground. The area surrounding the temple was deserted, and it dawned fully upon the wind riders and their dragons at this moment about what had happened here tonight. As she and many of her other kin moved aside to make room for Eurythion to become his large dragon self again, Siyann thought she saw a look of bitterness on Ignis’ grim face. Stephan mounted his dragon counterpart, and for once almost being polite, gave Minh a helping hand to sit behind him on his dragons neck. Tiamat flew high above them already, and Eurythion met his sister in the air, and the two dragons flew out of range. Next was Beowulf, with Yxe as Affy’s co-pilot this time. Marduk followed, and then Indra. One by one the rest of the dragons assumed their true forms and departed with their own windriders.

Siyann perched steadily in the comforting hollow at the nape of Sigurd’s neck as she soared gently over the volcanoes, the last to get into the air, and as the first volcano erupted Siyann could feel the heat on the back of her neck, smell the sulphur as ash that had clogged the vent, yet she didn’t dare look back until she reached the spot where the rest of her fellow windriders had congregated above the ocean. They watched the fireworks together, the blaze of white hot rock scarring their eyes, but unable to turn away. It brought a finality with it that they strongly needed.

Without it’s inhabitants, the fire children, the volcanic base seemed perfectly ready to disappear under the many tons of heavy molten rock that had previously lain under the earth’s crust. After the initial spurt of activity lava flowed steadily down each of the volcanoes that formed the perimeter of the fire children’s headquarters: once their base, their home, and now their grave.

“Rest in peace,” Siyann whispered quietly, her words lost upon the wind, and as she watched the lava bury the bodies beneath it’s steady flow a single tear rolled gently down her cheek. Her kin watched from the air, and their steeds beneath them, and the dragons and riders alike mourned for those that had once been their enemy. The dragons sang in high keening voices, and Beowulf in a low respective rumble, and as the rain began to fall they each turned away one by one, each to find their own paths to the pyramids.

I suggest that each one of us goes our separate ways, Yxe’s voice echoed in Siyann’s mind. Ways we know best.

And as Sigurd steered herself forcefully down through the night sky the sorrow left her heart, and she knew where they were headed. Siyann wasn’t exactly comforted by the thought, but it filled her with an unwavering resolution.

For Sastrugen, for Tarasque, for Rhama.. Siyann thought solemnly as Sigurd touched down in the water, and ducked her head underneath as the first wave came.

Tonight, we travel by the Nile.

[Plantae]

= Liraeyl =

Persuading Wepwawet had been too easy: far too easy. I couldn't shake the distant notion that when we did return to Ra's service in the temple, checking her traps sadistically was but one of her ulterior motives. The thought was not shaken when the journey back was fraught with silence. What is there to say between the elegant and the beastly? It was dutifully unpleasant, as I had long since learned was just of Wepwawet's nature, and as I strode ahead I could imagine her panting behind me. I hadn't spoken with her since before my mission and the events transpiring after, but I still remembered what was the law with this "opener of ways." Even before her primal transformation and as far back as our first meeting, I had deemed her as the kind of person you either feared or laughed about. As such, I couldn't help emitting a dull chuckle as we traversed the riverside.

===

The temple was a shorter distance than I had imagined from where I had gathered my feral companion. The entrance to the Pyramid of Ra was concealed so that none but Ra's followers could enter (or their guests if no one was feeling particularly selective). Abandoning the tract of the river, Astarte strode up to it in eagerness and a shaft wrought in stone appeared with ample timing. Most of the chambers were aboveground and hidden in whatever fancy each current occupant desired, but several chambers lie farther below. It was here that my room was, dimmer with less torchlight, and Wepwawet's old dreary hideaway as well. The training room was deeper still, as were several tombs and their respective treasure. This was where I stopped and nodded to Wepwawet as she passed deeper to fawn over her traps like a particularly nasty child over tormenting another.

After she passed, I stood in the hallway for a couple moments, just a few paces from my room's concealed doorway. The Torchlights were Ra's magic, and they lit when they were needed. Consequently, those up the slant my dormitory was on flickered and were doused. Only two flickered near me, and I had no idea where the other Lycanthropes might be besides Wepwawet. Preparing to look for them, I halted only when I heard a muffled crash from just past the threshold nearby. Wasting no time, I stroked the stone wall and runes blazed to life. The stone slid away to reveal my bedside and I entered tenatively. Pulling a dusty and miraculously enduring tome from the shelf, I sat down to read a bit of mythology.

Flipping through the pages, the silence was more or less broken when a thought came to my head. If our enemy was an Ice Mage... couldn't I scry him? Almost excited by the idea, I replaced the tome in its proper place and went again to my scrying bowl. I had been in the arctic waters of the North, but however strong this mage was, his magical imprint was very vague. After a minute or two of searching, I thought I might have finally found it. An image appeared and a grin crossed my face in triumph as a chesnut haired man appeared, cross legged and meditating. In a millisecond, however, his eyes shot open and his pale blue glare met my equally frigid gaze. In an instant, the water in the scrying bowl turned to ice and the bowl itself shattered. His will was too strong, apparently.

Standing up I kicked the shards dejectedly. I had had that bowl for two thousand years. This was more than enough to tell me not to try and watch the mage again. Picking a new bowl from the cover and vanishing the spilled icey water and creating a new pure supply, I changed my scrying target. The image showed a glowering mage, the one I had showed interest in before, and him watching as the other Wind Riders took to flight without him. I laughed at the sight, my trouble with the Ice Mage forgotten, and dipped my hand into the cool substance before me. In an instant, and with a last glance around me, I had disappeared to the very island the boy was on.

===

It was only seconds later that I appeared upon the sandy beach of the erupting isle previously inhabited by the Fire Children. I spotted the mage before me, just up ahead and standing in a pool of Lava. He showed no sign of consternation and I was intrigued at his power. Waving nonchalantly, I beckoned to him, "Over here, mage!"

The man looked in my direction and gave a glare that could have matched mine. Carefully, he stepped over melted rubble and through still more magma. Eventually, he slowly reached me after stumbling through the thick substance. I couldn't place why he had remained behind, but it might have had something to do with testing his power or just ego. As he reached me and finally managed to get out of the lava's wake, he muttered snidely, "Someone hasn't heard of manners, have they? What is it you want, she-mage?"

I chuckled at his sheer underestimation of my power and who exactly I was. I wasn't about to let him anger his escort. "My power is along the same wavelink as yours, youngling, and I am here on behalf of Ra. I will give you my name when you give me yours."

"Ignis, now can we just-"

"Liraeyl. Nice to meet you, thanks. I understand you have the powers of teleportation, so this should be easy. Grab my hand here," he drew back and peered at me from a distance. Undoubtably he must have been amazed by the forcefulness in my voice and the sheer power of my personality. Of course, that might be a bit prideful to say. Doubtless, though, something puzzled him. What convinced him, I didn't know, but he reached out and I grabbed his hand. Stepping into the water, he must have felt his feet pushed out from under him and a sickening wrench as we transported to the mouth of the Nile.

===

I had contemplated going straight back to the Temple, but one Rider was traveling along the Nile and had just entered the White Nile's river delta. I could sense the ebb and flow of power in my mind's eye. Stopping there and rising from the water, I dropped Ignis who muttered curses under his breath at being covered suddenly in water and likely wishing he hadn't come with me. But ten feet from me was Sigurd of the Seas and her young companion, and I rose from the river on a narrow pillar of cascading waves and whirpools. Somewhat overdramatically, I boomed down in a tone that demanded attention, "Welcome Young Wind Rider. I am Liraeyl of the Lycanthropes of Ra and I have come to guide you to my pyramid (a lie, I was only curious)." The pillar must have been fifty feet high and I think I might have seen a half frown cross the Wind Rider's face and a smirk as she noticed the drenched Ignis floating on the water below. I had completely disregarded the mage myself and eagerly awaited a curt reply.

===

[Emotional Faun Chiko-sai]

Dragon form.

Name: Beowulf
Sex: Male
Appearance: A very big dragon. Actually, the biggest one, since he's the oldest and everything. He's brown all over, muddy earthy earth brown, with greyish bits here and there, and the odd patch of lichen. If he isn't moving and closes his eyes (which are amber), he could qualify as a very big rock, or a small mountain range. Rather stocky, and obviously not built for quick movement. Beowulf has a single horn rising from his forehead, shaped like an obelisk. His tail ends in a club with very jagged-looking pieces of rocky spikes. His claws and teeth seem to be hewn out of solid rock; they're not particularly sharp, but meant more for crushing. His wingspan is immense, and his skin is very thick even by dragon standards, making him an effective siege weapon. When he rears up on his hind legs, he is exactly the kind of dragon kings would definitely not want to burn down their citadel.
Personality: Most of the time, he does everything slowly. Sarcasm, even in the bluntest form, doesn't work on Beowulf. He takes everything at face/word value. Rarely changes his mind about anything, and hard to convince. Relies heavily on others to make snap judgements for him, although he'll make his opinions heard if he does have any. Perfectly happy to hear his brothers and sisters squabbling in a loud manner; he figures it means they're all alive and functional. He likes living in secluded, uncivilised areas, where the only thing visible is the mountain range a couple of hundred miles away; it helps him think better and quicker - he literally derives his thought from the earth. To prove this, just lead him into a town, or any human settlement; you can actually see his eyeballs dimming as the brain cells evaporate away...
Element: Earth
Animal form: I thought, for a slow-blink-long-thought processor like Beowulf, something that looked equally slow but wouldn't cause too much comment... could he be a one-horned water-buffalo?? Or, by extension, any member of the bovine family..
Powers: Offense-defense ratio= 1:2
Earthquake~ Just what the name says. Magnitude is variable.
Club-everything-into-smithereens~ (Beowulf's really very slow) What the name says
Wall~ A thick wall, of whatever earthy material is most plentiful in the area (ex. mud/clay in a farming village, shale/loose rock in mountainous places), piles up around the targets. A defensive tactic. it also helps Beowulf to think.
Gem: Amber.
Other: He's really, really stupi- er, slow when he's in a town. Especially a town full of people milling round and confusing his thoughts.

Wind Rider form

Name: Athanasius Pound; most people, after attempts to remember his first name, eventually drift around to calling him 'oi, Pound' instead. The more creative prefer 'Affy'.
Sex: Male
Age: 24
Steed: Beowulf
Affinity: Earth. This does not apparently help him in fights, except that Affy always seems to have something rocky (or sand in the face, if he's in a sandy place, etc - it changes with the environment, though around buildings, it's almost always a brick) on hand to club them on the head with, even after they've very ostensibly taken away his sword. And when he actually hits someone with his crossbow, they always land on the ground. Hard.
Appearance: He's about 5'10", or 5'11", with a thin wiry build. He's generally scruffy and gives off the impression that he doesn't get enough hot meals. Complexion tends towards the tan side, with lots of scar tissue all over. His hair is a boring dull brown, straight and slightly too long to be called neat; he tries to comb it back with no visible results. Affy's eyes are nondescript brownish-green and his ears are a bit pointy, although he's certainly no elf. Often needs a shave.
He wears dusty, dark-coloured pants, held up with a belt and the regular cotton shirt, with sleeves rucked up to the elbow. Sometimes it's grubby white, sometimes it's pinstripe, or basically whatever he's got that's clean. He carries his sword on a wider belt of brown leather. His boots have seen better days. He's got a multipurpose long coat for when it's raining.
Personality: Of average intelligence, and can parse a few languages, though nothing too fancy. Athanasius usually picks up on things quickly, unless he's deliberately being stupid and wooden. He believes common sense is a necessity. Thinks and talks in straight lines, and it is very possible to piss him off. Has a bit of the philosophical cynic/pessimist in him. When he smiles, which is to say turns the corners of his mouth up, there's probably something bad happening. He's a bit more short-tempered and direct these days.
Weapon(s): His rather ordinary-looking sword that is nonetheless sharp has an amber grip. And the crossbow (rarely in use) is a normal-enough one with an amber catch; it's mostly there for threatening people. If possible, he'd rather settle things with good old-fashioned dirty street-fighting, or, in desperate situations, just running away.
Relationships: Returns the 'sympathies' of Stephan, likes Sairi (as a friend, presently), and is about 50% sure he knows why Ignis sometimes gives him funny, 'I-would-like-to-eat-you-but-I-can't' looks. (Does he??)
Other: Smokes. Still tries not to drink. (trying harder.) He likes the city, which gives him problems, what with Beowulf and all.
---------------------
Athanasius Pound; Beowulf
"My job sucks."
---------------------------------

Beowulf and Athanasius looked at each other. In their brains, the thought registered, simultaneously.

We're going travelling.... again?

But while Beowulf accepted it with a inward sigh that it was all for the good of the world, and meeting new people was a good thing, and that the lives of his brother and sister had not been wasted for nothing, for Athanasius it was a rather different matter. He didn't want to save the world. Not now, anyway. He wanted at least a two-month holiday period. Surely the world couldn't end itself within a two-month holiday period? He wanted to, he didn't know, bring Sairi back to the city, watch the flowers in the window grow or something. Something normal. (He'd had enough of abnormal, and heroism, and the rest of it.) Something peaceful.

He was tired. So very horribly tired. His brain was possibly undergoing half-life: it couldn't think very well, only whine silently about the lack of rest and the banality of being heroic and last, but not least, the lack of alcohol in his system, to put a happy haze over the higher thinking functions and shut up the whining so that he would just do this, as he had done many other things, without self-inflicted stress.

And they didn't know enough about anything. They didn't know who the Mysterious Icy Sorcerer Stranger was. They didn't know why he wanted to bring about armageddon. So they were going to Egypt. Egypt, somewhere with a lot of sand and dust and camels. It was hot. That was basically what he knew about the place. Wonderful.

What was more, Ignis was... different. And he had a poncy raven. And he called him Nausea (which was pretty lame, all things considered), and gave Affy disgusted looks, sometimes, that Affy were almost completely able to understand, but the answer was lurking at the back of his brain and it would be so troublesome to sit down and think it out. Especially now when he had to babysit Yxe, sort of, whom he was slightly afraid of making a suicide attempt. He probably wouldn't, knowing Yxe. But it was always right to be careful.

Stephan had taken Minh under his wing. Now that was something to get worried about.

They were leaving Sairi, to take care of her people - as far as they could be called her people; she wasn't human anyway. It was odd to think of her as other than human. She grew on you, just like a human could. She said she'd most likely be sitting out this time. The people of the volcano needed her, to be the rock; needed her to make things better, to repair their shattered faith. And he'd been hoping for someone relatively sane and/or not immediately antagonistic to come along, too. But life is never so accommodating.

As Sigurd and Siyann dipped beneath the undulating waves, Beowulf achieved almost spontaneous liftoff due to an exploded bit of cliff that scorched his hide, albeit slightly. The wings did the rest.

Beowulf flew slowly and ponderously, his large, leathery wings catching the warm gusts of wind and coasting along them. The dragon knew Egypt as part of the continent with the largest desert and most number of silicates, and he steered himself accordingly. Athanasius' geography, outside cities, was terrible, to say the least. He got worried when he was about a kilometer away from the last city he'd visited, and downright panicky if he was left in wilderness, even with a map and a guide. Agoraphobia of the worst kind.

He tried to start a conversation with Yxe, but then realized that he didn't know what to say. So he kept his attention on trying not to remember that he was far enough up in the air that it tasted thin and metallic, and that his head rang with the difference in pressure and lack of oxygen.

*

They crashed down somewhere on the border between Libya and Egypt. The term 'crashed' is used because it couldn't be called a landing. Landings do not involve deep furrows clawed in the ground in futile attempts to slow down, nor do they include dunes of sand cascading upon you, partially blocked by a dragon's wing.

Athanasius spat out the sand that had nearly gone down his throat, tried to see whether his arm was still connected to his shoulder, found that it was, removed a stray lizard from his hair (to which it had clung in fear as it witnessed its hole in the ground being destroyed by a perhaps hundred-tonne dragon) and pulled Yxe to his feet. "Sorry. Beowulf isn't good at landings."

It is a fault. I do not fly often. Beowulf sat up, club-tail taking out a ten-foot swathe of sand as he did so. Would you have me turn bovine, here and now?

"It would be preferable, if you will," said Yxe, politely. Beowulf shimmered, and became a buffalo.

"What do we do now?" asked Affy. "Where is this temple, pyramid, whatever we're looking for?"

"To the east of here. Along the Nile, there is a settlement, somewhere," replied the other. "I know where... I think."

"You think."

It was hot. They started to walk.
---------------------------------
Boring post. My maths project is killing me by degrees... btw, does any of the Dragons/Wind Riders know exactly where the temple of Ra is?

[Weasel Overlord]

[CENTER]~Ra-Harakhte Pterissimon Skairus~

“Perhaps you need a bath?” Pterissimon repeated the words to himself, thoughtfully.

Liraeyl. Perhaps she needed to be taught some discipline...he let that thought go as soon as it entered his head. Pterissimon would much rather enter one of Astarte’s traps blindfolded than suggest disciplinary training to Liraeyl.

Shaking his soggy head ruefully, Pterissimon meandered back to his chamber, still caught up in the freedom of his latest transformation. His muscles burned as he walked but Pterissimon revelled in the pain, even increasing his speed slightly, to dry off.

He shook his hair as he walked, spattering the walls with droplets of water, and, speeding to a run, he soon arrived at his room. Pushing open the door he sighed with relief. It had been a good day, and not only that, but he had received news that the Wind Riders were on their respective ways that very day. This was glad tidings indeed and Pterissimon had gone about his daily duties with an extra spring in his step. Since the prophecy had been made, nothing more had been said about the fall of Ra or the arrival of the Wind Riders and their Draconic steeds, and Pterissimon had almost given up hope of their appearance being in his lifetime. Now, however, he had a chance to prove himself to all those doubting elders. He would probably never be good enough for the likes of Liraeyl but he might go up in the esteem of some others.

Pterissimon flumped onto his bed with a sigh and gazed at the roof. Something was niggling him. At the back of his mind, something was clamouring to be heard. He cleared his mind and entered a trance-like state, free from the distractions of the outside world. Delving deep into his subconscious, he instantly found what was wrong. Ra was speaking to him through his Osprey form. Telling him to hasten to the dunes where travellers waited, almost lost among the sandy wastes where everything looked the same; but to the experienced eye, every dune was a pointer, a landmark. You learned these ‘landmarks’ if you were to survive in the desert, where no mercy was given.

He slowly sank back into consciousness and slid off his bed, ready to do Ra’s bidding, as his rank required.

[Sakura12]

Ah! Don't believe I missed the starting!

Dragon form.

Name: Indra
Sex: Female
Appearance: Indra is considered small for a dragon. She has pearly scales and eyes that can change colour according to its mood (eg red when angry, blue when sad, orange when happy, they're white when she's in a neutral mood). Unlike most other dragons, her wings are not made of leathery material but of soft white feathers. Her tail has a ring of spikes around it.
Personality: Always the non-aggressor, Indra prefers to settle disputes through calm talking rather than fighting. She a good listener and one who is willing to share her knowledge with others.
Element: Light
Animal form: (if it's okay) Siberian tiger
Powers: 1:2
~ Spectral spikes: The spikes on the end of her tail glow in spectral colours and shoot out at the enemy like arrows.
~ Healing glow: A glow of white light grows in her hands(if you can call them hands, that is). When Indra presses this light onto a wound, the wound will heal. This power can also heal sicknesses, but it cannot revive a dead person.
~ Mind read: well, just as the name says... Ran out of creative juices to think of something better... Haha...
Gem: Opal
Other: She loves the sound of Seiryn's flute!

Wind Rider form.

Name: Seiryn Dashun Kerne
Sex: Female
Age: 16
Steed: Indra
Affinity: Light - Binding light: When Seiryn plays her flute, spectra-coloured light flows out of the end where music comes out of. This light can snake like ropes and bind a foe. If times allows, the bound foe will be put to sleep by the music.
Appearance: Average height for her age, Seiryn is often seen with a calm look on her face. In her grey eyes lie knowledge, yet with a tinge of playfulness and joy. Her long black hair is often left untied to flow in the wind, especially while riding. Seiryn usually wears a maroon low-cut blouse with long open sleeves and a long matching velvet baggy trousers with high black boots. She also wears a gold trimmed grey face veil, black leather gloves and a flowing blue-grey velvet cloak when she is riding.
Personality: Quiet by nature, she can seem boring at first glance. But once you get to know her better, she can be your most loyal friend. Her quietness allows her much time for thinking, and through this she has become quite a philosopher.
Weapon(s): A magic staff made of mithril with an opal at the upper tip of the staff, enclosed in intricatedly twined mithril. She also has two lightblades with silver blades and large opals set in the hilts. (if it can count) She also has a bamboo flute with a tiger carved into the wood. Crushed opals have been used to fill in the carved area.
Relationships: None as of yet.
Other: Nope.

I'll put up my first post later. Or tomorrow. =)

[Plantae]

= Ignis =

Drenched, I let out a dejected snort. The Wind Rider obviously held this Lycanthrope's attention more than I did. Before Siyaan even made a reply I had teleported from the water to the bank and used a heavily controlled blast of heat to air dry my clothing. Also, I noted as I sat cross-legged in the sand, that Liraeyl was a bit of a hag. I turned back to the conversation nonetheless.

"I am Siyaan and this is Sigurd of the Seas. It is in the respect of several that we travel by the Nile, Liraeyl, so I can speak for us both when I say we are glad for your assistance." Her response proved a bit cold, and Liraeyl picked up on it slightly and smiled the wider.

"Indeed. Just follow my shifted form. The current is quite relentless here, and I shall lessen it as well." With that, she didn't hesitate to shift. I was captured by the beauty of its magical process. A strand, like a watery outline of her body, slowly unwound from around her and spiraled into fury. Her form blurred and flowed together underneath the torrent and an ebb shook through the murk. Like rings on a ripple of water, white energy proceeded outwards from her in a circle slowly, and then in one smooth motion retracted backwards. A gray haze covered where she had been and the transformation that had taken less than a millisecond reached its climax. The fog condensed into a watery ball which quickly formed the outline of a serpent and with a single bright flash coalesced in a black and white snake. The being, presumably our host Liraeyl, dove into the water and began hastily swimming in the same direction Siyaan and Sigurd had been traveling. The Wind Rider promptly followed her, and I teleported downstream to where Liraeyl was waiting at a fork in the river. She pointed her serpentine head to the left and began swimming again, soon tailed by the equally fast Sigurd.

I stood there just a moment and pondered. Was I to ask Siyaan for a ride? I was nearly sure she would say yes, but it seemed awkward. Delving into my power instead, I sought a strand of it that might somehow increase my ability to travel. Finding a new area of control similar to my heat resistance earlier, I mentally summoned some energy from it and a disc formed underneath me. The magic I had used would have usually effected a larger area, but had answered my demand for transportation. I stumbled on the circle of winds that was levitating several feet above the ground. Falling flat on my face, I simpered. It could be assured that invention would be as much death as curiosity. Siyaan had waited in the second it had taken me to summon up the magic and asked, "Ignis, need a ride?" She stifled a chuckle at my fall.

With a smirk of defiance, I sat down upon the floating body and crossed my legs. "I'm perfectly fine. Thank you." I was quickly getting used to balancing on this precarious mobile. Now I just needed it to move. I again reached for a power, something close to what I had just done, but a spell that might catch the sails of this celestial vehicle. A breeze started behind me, a result of my magic, and pushed the disc in the direction Liraeyl and Sigurd were swimming. It was still a bit clumsy, but soon I was following a distance behind the others.

===

[Vulpix.ck87]

Siyann, F, Windrider of Sigurd

Siyann bit her lip with a mixture of slight unease and the intention of stiffling her laughter. Perhaps she had been a little rude to Ignis, and although she didn't mean any harm by it he seemed to have taken it to heart, stubbornly floating behind them upon his magical transportation. Giving a small glance and smile at Ignis (who wobbled in reply), Siyann secretly hoped he'd be alright on there - he didn't seem to have quite mastered the new magic yet. Well, she supposed it was new anyway, she'd never seen him use it before, although she couldn't understand how he managed to create something so randomly magical at will like that, and so fast! Siyann frowned, realising that she still didn't quite know this person who travelled with them. They had accepted him into their group when there was little time for anything but introductions, and still since then none of them had really had time to get to know him. Well, that would have to change, Siyann supposed.

Although on the other hand that could definately be tricky, since there was an ever growing amount of people and situations to consider. Whereas a mere couple of hours ago she had been battling the fire children within their volcanic base, she was now drifting steadily towards the pyramids to meet a race of shape shifters, one of whom had already made quite a dramatic appearance in front of her upon a column of water. And of course, there was also the fact that later she would most likely be heading into the snowy southern tundra, and battling.. an ice mage?? Hmm.. This was all a bit too much for Siyann to comprehend at the moment, if truth be told, and so she let it flow over her mind like the very water Sigurd swam through beneath her.

Sigurd was coping rather well against the current, parting it and swaying it to move with her instead of against her, though what truly impressed Siyann was the great water snake leading the way in front of her. It's striped body flowed with liquid ease through the water, and even managed to remind Siyann of Sigurd's affability with water, though she knew that could not be so. Sigurd, in a way, was the water. Just like her dragon siblings were the other elements also. Siyann lazily pondered where the rest of her kin where - maybe they'd already made it to the pyramids - and she wondered about the phoenix.. Though mostly, she wondered when she would next get to sleep; it seemed like such a very long time since she had done that.

Drifting gently upon the shimmering flow of the great river, she could have fallen asleep then and there upon the large spread of dragon neck before her, and as Sigurd's motions gently rocked her she found herself increasingly tempted. Yet amongst the golden sweeping dunes ahead of them rose a peak, the first pyramid of many Siyann knew they would see, but undoubtedly their destination. From high above Siyann thought she heard a buzzard's call, perhaps warding them away or perhaps spurring them onwards. Sigurd ploughed onwards through the opposing current nevertheless.

Crap post.. Oh well :p

[Plantae]

= Liraeyl =

Gently, a ripple flowed through the water and I stepped upon the shore near our destination, unshifted. "Ah, the Pyramid of Ra," I mused, muttering under my breath, "rather nauseating." Siyaan gave a nod as her and Sigurd came ashore. In the process, like a quick flash of light, Sigurd had transformed into an otter. "Good idea," I commended the Wind Rider. "Come along."

We walked at a brisk pace towards the stone structure, golden in the sunlight. Stopping before it, Siyaan asked politely, "How exactly are we to get in? There seems to be no entrance. Just solid stone."

I responded to her inquiry by sweeping my hand against the rock and it slid away to reveal a torchlit doorway. Motioning for the rider and her dragon to come in, as well as the slightly behind Ignis, who to my amusement was also looking at the Pyramid as if it were some great disgusting beast. The four of us entered the hallway and I pointed casually to the left. "I'm sure you must be tired from your journey. There are several empty rooms in that direction if you happen to be interested in a little catnap. However, be careful not to wander too far. There are devices deeper down the ramp-" I gestured to the slant that went towards my room, "that are rather sadistic. Booby traps you know. There are several other lycanthropes around, though I'm sure at least one of them is out helping Wind Riders such as yourself. You might run into Djedkara, our resident hawk, if he is still here. A word of advice, though," I grinned wickedly at this last bit, "watch out for the other female. You'll find Wepwawet savagely canine."

Siyaan looked obviously tired and gave a quick, "Thank you," before following the left path. Ignis went to follow, but I beckoned him towards me.

"Boy. Follow me. I saw your display of magic earlier and I think I might know how to show you more of the talent you already know." I glanced at the raven on his shoulder who acknowledged me with an unnaturally intelligent gaze. I watched Ignis as he took a careful moment to brood, but obviously decided over sarcasm or rejecting the offer. Good. He was curious.

"Alright." He consented grudgingly and tailed behind as I trotted briskly down towards my room. Finding the place, the stone opened welcomingly and I less than politely pushed Ignis inside. Surely, my ignoring of him for the Wind Rider had spurred a bit of resentment towards me. I must have caught him off guard just taking him along with me.

"My accomadations are a bit... lacking you might say. Feel free to sit, though I can't promise the bed won't lose a few more feathers when you do." Still rather inquisitive, he sat down and the Raven fluttered to a bedpost. Ignis eyed it quietly before turning back to me.

As direct as possible he queried, "Why did you bring me here?" I gave him an up-and-down glance and smiled charmingly.

"You want more power, don't you?" He didn't need to nod, I had read his expression perfectly and he was utterly surprised that I had even guessed. "I saw how you struggled with that little magic spell earlier and I thought I might teach you the basics of control. You obviously know quite a bit already, but I think I can show you more. I know you've recently discovered power, boy. That avian is evidence."

He hesitated before speaking again, still shocked that I had surmised so much, and finally asked, "How will you teach me?" A wicked smile crossed my lips. I would cherish spreading my influence on another.

===

[Emotional Faun Chiko-sai]

Wepwawet
"evil twin says you want me to play"
--------------------

Wepwawet moves along the winding catacombs in the dark pit of the pyramid. She finds her way without thinking, the map of it stowed away in a part of her extensive memory. The air smells of dried innards and rust.
She is mildly disappointed when she sees no blood, but pleased again when she sees that they've kept up the mechanisms of many of the traps. Blades and nooses and posion darts pop out, in various deadly arrangements, and retract themselves when she runs a callused finger down their catches. They aren't very good, Wepwawet having seen worse things in the millenia of her absence, but maybe good enough for the Dragon-kin. Wepwawet is not as crazy as she lets on.
Not that she wishes anyone to know this.
She pauses when she comes to a representation of herself, flanked by her brothers. She is tall and dark and still bears the marks of office. Khenti-Amentiu is a black jackal with a jewelled collar alert at her feet, eyes rimmed with gold. Anubis has the head of a black jackal and looks straight ahead, with his scales and his feather of truth. She doesn't know what became of these brothers, who had always been more deeply rooted in the belief system than her. Maybe they really were gods, gods who disappeared when the kingdom fell for lack of faith and offerings. The real thing.
She is almost the real thing, but not quite. She likes the things the world can give her a little too much.
Then she pushes the headdress of the picture of herself and disappears into the darkness of the corridor that opens up with the scent of the crypt.

*

The tunnel leads to a cornerstone of the pavement outside the temple. It is hotter here than the plains. Wepwawet's pupils dilate, adjusting to the glare. Her nose catches the scent of salt water, unfamiliar and out of place. Scheming Liraeyl and the Wind Rider of Sigurd, whomever that may be. She knows the dragons' names from the old order, but not their youthful apprentices.
There is a fourth scent on the wind. It is an undecided, tricky kind of scent. A stranger. And not a Wind Rider. Liraeyl and her dealings - possibly dangerous?
She would find out soon enough. No hurry. She wouldn't, couldn't be jumped. She had half-predicted complications to arise, anyway. And wouldn't it add to the fun.
She rounds the grounds of the temple, revisiting parts of it she remembers as palces where there had been blood sacrifice. The setting of such places calms her and reminds her that she must be always careful.
-----------------------
Will post Affy tomorrow...

[Plantae]

= Ignis =

She said she wanted to be near the Nile for my training. I had accepted grudgingly, and now we were standing on the bank. I waited for her to speak, as she seemed the teacher that would use the switch if someone were to talk out of turn. Liraeyl's gaze was momentarily absorbed in the flow of the water, and I hesitantly posed a question, one bound to amuse her. "So, from what you've told me on our way out here, you're roughly five thousand. What kind of power does that entitle you?" As I expected, she smiled in triumph. Clearly, this was the question she had been wanting to hear.

Deviously humble, she merely muttered, "Well, I'll try. Of course, it isn't high tide so it might be slightly weaker." After her response she took a dramatic deep breath. Clearly, she was playing this up. I expected the roar of tides, but all she did was thrust out her hand and cause a single spout of water to shoot some twenty feet in the air. Surely this wasn't the power that earned her the title "River Goddess". Cruelly satisfied at her "need to know" basis approach, she turned back to where I was standing. "Now Ignis, first things first. I've already explained to you how to reach for your power at a faster rate and how to prevent exhaustion with a specific seven-count breathing pattern. I believe it's the proper time for a little test..." she grinned wickedly. "I want you to hit me-" her voice paused before the catch, "and if you fail, well, I'll kill you." The venom in her voice was icey and the contempt was clearly real. I gasped, wide-eyed. What was this bitch doing? Had she ever had a student before? Still, the tone of her voice told me this was no bluff. Clearly, she intended to teach me the hard way.

"Al-al-alright," I stammered and prepared. Count to seven. One. She's grinning incessantly. Two. There's sweat on my brow. Three. Is she crazy? Four. Now Liraeyl's tapping her foot impatiently. Five. Oh, magic, what if I die? Six. I can't possibly fail this. At that moment, I ignited a beacon deep within my soul and reached for whatever reservoir of power I could find. I imagined my death from this Lycanthrope. Twisting the fear and remembering the floating mobile from before, I combined the two and screamed with fury.

Liraeyl cackled and yelled, "Seven!" In the same instant, I thrust both hands out in her direction. A millisecond later, I heard an audible "umph" as the concentrated bolt of icey air I had attempted to skew her with made contact. She flew ten feet before landing, almost face-planting, but doing a miraculous backflip and ending in the runner's position. "Decent," she spluttered, wiping a bit of blood from her upper lip. "We'll need to work on your control." She stood and pointed skyward as a torrent of rain drops began to fall. "We do not waste power by losing it in unnecessary spells. You didn't intend rain, I'm guessing." I shook my head with gloom. Decent? What the hell else was she going to put me through! "I want you to call it off."

"I can't..." I almost stuttered. Instead of being angry, which I had expected, she merely smirked. With a single wave of her hand, the rain dispersed. How had Liraeyl managed to just fend off Mother Nature like that? I had read of Weather Magic, and its risk is that it spins out of control once cast.

"It wasn't developed enough yet, and a blunder. Mother Nature didn't have hold." She read my mind, which was happening with increasing regularity lately. "Enough," she muttered. "I leave you with a concept. Whenever you do magic, imagine it's a life or death situation. This shouldn't be too hard, as most of the time it might be anyway. Regardless, imagine your death at the hands of your opponent and use it like you did. The will to survive is strong in you Ignis." With that final word, she strode off towards the Pyramid of Ra. Despite her disapparation of the rain, the skys darkened anyway. I ran to catch up with her. Liraeyl was walking like there were demons on her tail. I mused ruefully. Well, the witch she was, they must have caught up.

===

[Plantae]

= Liraeyl =

It was midnight and the Wind Riders were gathering slowly. The Dragons Sigurd, Tiamat, and Marduk had all arrived with their respective Riders, but three more Dragons and five companions remained unaccounted for. Pity, it seemed those elders had far understimated the power they unleashed. Well, the real pity being that there intelligence hardly registered collectively. I would have done it better. However, I was Ra's servant... in a way.

I was alone and standing on the bank of the Nile, simply watching the flow of the water. The others had gone to bed. Wait-

"Wepwawet!" I whipped around, facing the crouching lycanthrope. "You can't surprise me, you know. My perception is on almost the same level as yours."

"I've been sitting here a minute already..." she mused quietly and smirked in triumph. "Seems you are getting a little deaf in your old age, eh Goddess?" She hissed the last syllable, obviously intending insult.

"You're wrong Wepwawet. I'm no goddess."

"Who is the boy?"

"Ignis?"

"The boy. Yes, names mean little. His scent is... divided... fleeting..." She sought the right words, having lost a bit of her manipulation of the language over time.

"Well, as long as your snooping-" she scoffed at the word, she likely would have described it as "stalking," "I might as well tell you the gist of it. Ignis is a mage, child of a Fire Child and obligated to her duty. However, he played a key part in the initial victory over their army. He has power... but not Lycanthrope kind. Different. He has..."

"Potential." Wepwawet finished, bemused at her insertion. She had always been the closest to me, and knew my ways. Indeed, he did have potential. But I couldn't let them know... I shan't even think of him as more than an apprentice. How wrong that sounded. My legacy was myself.

"Wepwawet, I know you're more sane than you look." No response. Just a mild panting sound. "Well, I suppose you're off for a little romp? Hunting as one of those mangy canines-" she cut me off with a low growl. She still was prone to be baited by insult. "Anyway, good night less than dearest Astarte." She didn't see need for a response.

I immediately began striding towards the temple. I turned for one last moment and was surprised to find our eyes locked together. "One more thing," I added, "the Nile is breaching soon."

She still remembered the cycle of the Nile, apparently, but acted indifferently. "And what do I care, Leer-ay-el serpent?"

I merely grinned ruthlessly and quickly entered the Pyramid. After stepping inside, to the stuffy air there, I whispered to the darkness. "You care, Opener of Ways, because you are going to be very cross about it."

===

[Weasel Overlord]

~Yxe, Ex Wind Rider of Sastrugen~

Yxe wasn’t sure what made him think that he knew where the temple was. It was an inkling. And a small one at that. But this inkling was the only thing he and Affy had to go on, and so they followed it, for better or worse, through the endless desert.

Sand. And yet more sand. Yxe had never dreamed that there could be so much sand compressed into one single place, and yet, here he was, trudging through a desert with only Affy and the now-bovine Beowulf for company. If Yxe as honest with himself, he felt rather nervous around this pair. Affy knew things that Yxe had never imagined. He knew cities, places that Yxe had never even dreamed existed. Even now, Yxe still longed for his old home in the forests, with only his bow and his senses keeping him from death. The world seemed clearer somehow, when he was back at home, and since Sastrugen...went...things just hadn’t been the same for Yxe. It was as though he saw the world through a glass bottle. Strangely distorted and unreal. This was Yxe’s world now. He clutched onto his weapons for comfort, not knowing how to deal with this warped world he found himself in.

If this new perspective on life had changed Yxe, it was in the way that he communicated with his Kyn. Once so close, he would have had no trouble conversing with one, if not all of them. But now...Sastrugen’s loss had made Yxe retreat into himself even more. Far from loquacious usually, now he was the very essence of silence. This didn’t seem to bother Affy, however. On their flight, he had conversed with Beowulf as one would converse with an old drinking partner; roughly and with the use of many profanities. This behaviour bewildered Yxe, who could only respond to any questions with a sort of frosty politeness.

“What do we do now?” Affy had enquired upon their landing. “Where is this temple, pyramid, whatever we're looking for?" To be frank, Yxe wasn’t sure, but he figured it had to be somewhere. Probably near to the Nile for a water supply.

“To the east of here. Along the Nile, there is a settlement, somewhere. I know where...I think.” In fact, Yxe wasn’t really sure of it’s whereabouts, but something within him was telling him the way to go. A gentle prodding in his mind, verifying that he was travelling the right way, and that they only had to keep on going and an emissary would soon find them.

“You think?” Affy looked incredulous. “Well...” he muttered. “No point standing around here boiling in our bloody skins.” He started to walk in the direction that Yxe had indicated, towards the east.

The sand dunes proved tiresome, slip-sliding under the travellers feet until they fell or stumbled, the whole time, the sun was a glaring orb in the sky, merciless; draining their bodies of precious water, second by second, until Yxe was certain that they would not survive. He licked too-dry lips in an attempt to inject some moisture into them, but to no avail. The sun only sucked away any moisture in an instant, leaving Yxe dryer than he was before; and despairing or ever finding civilisation in this sandy mass.

~Ra Harakhte Pterissimon Skairus, Osprey Lycanthrope~

Pterissimon swung his travelling cloak over his shoulders and pulled his protective hood over his face. You could never be too careful in the heat of midday in the desert. He had seen who was coming; The Earth Dragon and his Rider, and one other. A deep sense of loss encompassed this other, but he had an air of, well, Wind Rider-ness about him. A curious case indeed, and Pterissimon intended to be the one to greet them and lead them to his temple. By now, they were probably hopelessly lost in the desert; probably hopelessly dehydrated too. He had no time to lose, but instead of reverting to his favoured Osprey form, Pterissimon thought it better if he appeared to the Dragon and his companions in his human form. There would be time for transformations later, when he had made their acquaintance. He sighed happily and caressed the door pads. They slid open smoothly, and Pterissimon stepped out into the desert, face and eyes shielded from the glare of Ra.

His pace was swift, and he knew where to look. They were so close, but the desert has a way of demoralising travellers and making them despair. They were still; a pulsing frequency in Pterissimon’s magically attuned mind. They moved not. He had to hurry.

So clearly now, he could see them. The one without a Dragon shone like a beacon in the Ra Harakhte’s mind, calling to him in despair and sorrow.

Pterissimon allowed his Osprey self to soar forward, seeking them out.

Ten spans to the left. It called

So close now. And he was upon them. A motley bunch if ever he’d seen one. One large Oxen, one Wind Rider who stood out like a rogue, and the other. His sorrow was palpable. Pterissimon could almost taste it.

Dragonless... Whispered his Osprey self. So that was it. Some tragedy had befallen this Wind Rider and his Dragon was gone. Pity flowed from Pterissimon, and he gently picked him up off the dune where he had fallen.

He addressed all three of the little company.

“Your coming has been anticipated with great pleasure, Wind Riders, Great Beowulf.” He inclined his head respectfully at the oldest of the Dragons. “There is much to talk about. But for now, we go to the Temple of Ra, where I believe some of your Kyn currently reside.” The Rider of Beowulf grinned with pleasure at this, and the slight Rider I held in my hands moaned quietly. I lowered my head to his and blessed him. This one would need all of Ra’s help to become whole again.

[Emotional Faun Chiko-sai]

Athanasius Pound; Beowulf
"d.o.a."
--------------------

When the osprey transformed, he was tall.

Beowulf acknowledged the greeting with a nod. Athanasius, whose mouth was dry and tasted of sand, managed a grin and relinquished the responsibility of babysitting Yxe to the newcomer. Yxe had obviously never been in the warmer parts of the world before. His resistance to heat was even lower than Affy's. He'd wilted, almost immediately, though Athanasius had his own suspicions about the source of the wilting also partly attributed to the combining of the twin dragons.

"Be careful with him," he said to the osprey, as an aside. But he could see already that the osprey knew much more than him about the conveyance and reading of emotions.

Is the temple far from here? asked Beowulf.

"No, but it seems further than it is," replied the osprey. "I apologize for any inconvenience caused..."

I felt hexes.

"Yes, these are to deter unwanted visitors from the temple."

They exchanged names and honorifics (that is, Pterissimon told Affy his honorifics, which were part of his name, and Affy told Pterissimon his name; he hadn't any honorifics); following that, Athanasius decided that he was getting a sore throat, or perhaps some rare form of tonsillitis, knowing his luck, and shunned conversation. The osprey was too much of an understanding gentleman to comment on the general unsociability* of Great Beowulf and his rider. Progress was made mostly in silence.

*

When they came to the temple proper, Athanasius thought he saw a wild dog come to meet them, but cursed the tricks of the light when he looked around, hand on sword pommel, and saw none but a wild woman with yellow eyes like a demon lolling on the steps at the further end of the compound. She had an air of catacombs and fear in the dark, and the atmosphere about her reeked of blood. Then he remembered that there were such things as lycanthropes.

How many more weirdos do I have to meet before I can finally get this over with? he thought, and he heard a grin from behind him, as if the woman had seen his thought. He didn't know how you heard grins, but he heard this one, distinctly. He saw the hairs on the back of Pterissimon's neck stand up. He didn't blame him; if all female lycanthropes were like that one, he'd be scared too.

The temple was large and sandy and dusty, like every other godforsaken thing in this country. It was big, though there were no windows. The door, or general area where the door was, was very wide, and there were a pair of obelisks flanking the path leading to it. Statues of kings lined the path. Artisans had done their very best to gild these statues; the gilt was, unfortunately, giving way under effect of the climate.

Passing the woman at the foot of the steps of the pyramid, Athanasius thought that she would attack them, or something, judging from the crouch that she now adopted, but she merely bared her teeth at them, and said to Pterissimon: "There is one brought here who is neither Wind Rider nor Dragon-kin; I thought you might like to know," turned into a wild dog, and disappeared down some dark side entrance.

"Who was that?" asked Affy, feeling the goosebumps come.

"Wepwawet Astarte. She is one of the oldest of our kind."

"You mean there're MORE of her?"

Pterissimon's mouth turned up at the corners in a tiny smile. "At least one more, that I know of."

Affy said, "Oh gods," scowled, and kept his hand on his sword.

[Arnen]

~Name: Eurythion of the Darkness
~Gender: Male
~Appearance: He's a slender medium/large dragon with midnight-black scales and an indigo underbelly. A ridge of long, thin spines run down his black from just below the base of the neck, with a space at the base of the head where Stephan can sit. He has two large horns on his forehead above each eye, each of which is scorched black bone like the spines. His wings are large and sport several tears, giving them a battered appearance. His tail is long and ends in an arrow shape like a devil's tail. His claws are serrated except for the innermost opposable ones on the front paws. He has a deep scar across his left eye. Said eyes are a glaring white color with no visible pupil or iris. They turn a cloudy deep grey when he's angry or about to breathe darkness.
~Personality: Usually silent and calculating, with a great taste for vengeance. He is often snide and vulgar in his speech, and is the type to finish something off without mercy. He rarely speaks kindly of others and never admits to his faults, because in his opinion he has none. He is also a terrible brat and an eternal pessimist -- silver lining never appeals to him. The only person he doesn't feel contempt toward is Stephan. Eurythion has little respect for life and generally thinks human beings are worthless sacks of flesh. He has a very quick temper and sometimes gets angry over small things, and can hold a grudge for centuries. When he gets pissed off, it's a good idea to run for the bomb shelter and stay there for a very long time.
~Element: Darkness
~Animal form: Raven
~Powers:
Dark Breath: His breath is pure darkness. This can function like a smokescreen as well as a weak acid.
Shadow Meld: He can blend in with shadows and virtually disappear.
Astral Project: He has the ability to leave his body and see and hear things far away, as well as spirits and other souls also lingering outside their bodies.
~Offense : Defense Ratio: 2:1
~Gem: Jet
~Other: His powers all work best at night. He can also see perfectly in the dark... does that count as a power? Cuz I can change one if need be.

~Name: Stephan (pronounced Steff-ON')
~Gender: Male
~Age: 18
~Steed: Eurythion
~Affinity: Darkness - Darkstrike (which, yes, I stole from Final Fantasy... Shaddup! XD) His blade turns completely black and darkness swirls around it. An enemy stricken by it will be either be surrounded by a smokescreen, or the wound with be laced with biting acid.
~Appearance: He's rather tall for his age (about 5'8"), and thin but not skinny. He has an athletic build, sort of muscular but not a lot. His hair is blonde, very curly, and hangs about shoulder-length. His eyes are a stunning shade of violet and framed by golden lashes. His eyebrows are very fine and also a gold color. His skin is quite pale and with little to no flaw. He dresses in elaborate 18th-century clothes (because he can, ha!): a black velvet frock coat with gold cuffs, a white satin shirt with lace at the neck and cuffs, black wool pants, and sturdy black boots. The rather overly-ornate sheath for his rapier hangs from a belt at his side.
~Personality: He's a stuck-up spoiled-rotten brat. He knows he's gorgeous and flaunts this endlessly. He acts the gentleman, but is vicious and cunning at heart. He is easily frustrated and can't stand to be put down or bettered. He can turn around a conversation to insult almost anyone he's talking to. He is very intelligent. Often times he will badly wound someone emotionally and not know it. Now with *gasp* more saracasm! OO;
~Weapon: He has an arm-length silver rapier with a large round jet stone at the base of the hilt, a teardrop-shaped jet in the middle of the hilt, and a pattern like > > [teardrop shape] in jet at the end of the blade to balance out the heavy hilt. The sheath is black leather.
~Relationships: Ha! *spits on relationships* Although he is rather, er, unfond (eh, I think I just made up a word) of Athanasius, who he STILL likes to call "the dirty hobo".
~Other: *poke poke other with rapier* He has a lilting French accent.

I'm really sorry, but could somebody please give me a summary or something? I'm completely confused and I do want to post, but I don't have enough to go off of to write up anything signifigant at the moment ><;

[Plantae]

The Wind Riders have defeated the Fire Children and have set off to reach Egypt, but seperated on the suggestion of Yxe. Wepwawet has rejoined the Lycanthropes, and soon after Liraeyl retrieved Ignis from the Fire Children Temple and guided Sigurd and Siyaan to the temple. As of the moment, everyone except your characters, Minh, and Seiryn/Indra are present at the Temple.

Secondary is the small amount of tension and distrust towards Ignis and Liraeyl's possible ulterior motives.

As it is, your character should also bring Minh along (as Sakura12 hasn't posted yet) to the Temple. Just automatically assume that Seiryn/Indra have reached the Temple when you get there to speed things up.

Once you reach the Temple, plans should be made and the Wind Riders should rest. The day after, I believe the intention is for you to set out after the Ice Mage. Coincidentally, this day is also the yearly flood of the Nile.

In your post, do not have a day pass. I repeat, you should refrain from going any further then going to bed for the night.

[Weasel Overlord]

Okay, me and Vulps are off to Leeds Fest today...so we won't be posting on here until either Monday or Tuesday...

See you all then! Also, for those of you who are informed...I'm not gonna let this die! So there...