~Otherworld~ It Starts! ...No LSU's...[M]

[Weasel Overlord]

~Otherworld~
[COLOR=darkred]It Starts! No LSU's...[M]

[COLOR=darkred]An RPG by Weasel Overlord

The Border is failing.

Torran Ylldier fled Telone, tripping over the torn remains of his robes as he went, not looking back. His eyes were blurred with tears of pain and incredulity, so much that he could barely see where he ran. But still he ran.

Torran Ylldier ran as if the very demons of hell were chasing him.

The souls of the dead wailed in glee, their howling terrible to hear for the inhabitants of Telone.

‘Free!’

They dived away form the Border, errant souls hell-bent on revenge. For they hated the place in which they were imprisoned. They had been promised an eternity of paradise. Beyond the Border, there was only pain and sorrow. They would take any opportunity that presented itself to them, and here it was. The perfect opportunity, a weak link in the Border, a crack ripe for the exploiting.
And outside, there were souls waiting to be replaced, bodies to be stolen. Minds to take over.
The opportunity was ripe, and the evil ones took it.

The souls of the dead have escaped their prison, and now they roam Telone freely and unhindered, for there is no way of telling that a body is inhabited by a soul that is not it’s own.
No way but one. Each wrong soul leaves an almost undetectable stigmata in the form of a tattoo. Usually swirling in shape and complex, these tattoos are easily hidden, allowing the souls to do their evil work unnoticed.

The evil ones plan to destroy the Border completely, and when they take over a body, the occupying soul is ousted into oblivion, for without the ritualistic rites of death, they cannot pass beyond the Border.

But first, there is the problem of Torran Ylldier. He flees Telone for the knowledge is too much for him to take. He is one of the few who can detect the stigmata of the wrong souls without seeing the tattoos. This power comes in the form of Aura-Sight, an ability to view a person’s aura as it radiates from their soul. A wrong soul has a negative aura, black or deep purples in colour, and they tend to pulse slightly.

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Each player has a pick from four races; Demal, the Falith-Hai, the Rae, and Old Humans. Race descriptions can be found below, and any player can have a cross-breeding between any of the races. The half-breeds may have more advanced magic, so PM me if you're unsure about it.
I'll be wanting a minimum post amount of 1 per week from all players, unless there's a good reason for your absence that has been PM'ed to me or spoken about elsewhere. Too many RPG's die from inactivity!


Races.

Old Human: Well, Humans, as the name suggests. No specialised powers, but a select few are born with odd traits or weak magical powers. When magical powers are apparent in Old Humans, they range from being healing, to destructive in nature, the intensity of the power based entirely upon the person.
Include any magical powers in you sign-up, but the character must have a good reason for having them...eg: Their family has some Falith-Hai blood in it.

Demal: The Demal are a winged race who are capable of flight. They are a serene race who tend towards meditative studies and they are quite ritualistic in their daily life, often taking hours to prepare something that could be done sooner by any other race.
The Demal are the Guardians of the Border, and so are more susceptible to being taken over by wrong souls, and they have a rudimentary magic based upon the mind which meditation helps to improve. Abilities such as Telekinesis are some of the more common magics along with abilities such as Levitation or Empathy.
Include wing colourings and markings in your sign-ups, please.

Rae: The Rae are a swamp-bound race who love damp and dark places. They tend to be quite short with pale hair colours.
They are a magical race, but their magic finds it’s power from the soul of the wielder. Because their magic comes from the soul, there isn’t really any way for it to be evil, as no soul is intrinsically evil. The Rae magic takes the form of healing and illusionary magic in most, but some have been known to have other powers, that are more destructive in their nature. For anyone wanting more destructive magic for a Rae, PM me with magic ideas or requests.
Include magic type in your sign-up and the strength of it.

Falith-Hai: The Falith-Hai are a symbiotic race who join with plants upon their coming of age. This was originally done as a survival instinct, but it has become a tradition that is fiercely continued. The Falith take their home in forest country and they are very close to nature. They have rudimentary magic, as the Demal do, but the Falith magic is nature-based and involves tree-speech and communicating with other natural beings. Some more powerful abilities include bending the trees to the character's will and Animal Empathy. (For those unfamiliar with D&D rules, Animal Empathy allows a character to enlist the help of animals).
The Falith-Hai’s symbiotic plants have their own natures and names, so be sure to include them in your sign-up, along with the type of magic your character possesses.

Half-Breeds: Half-breeds encompass traits of the races which they are crossed with. For example, a Demal/Falith-Hai may be ritualistic, but close to nature.
Half-Breeds tend to have a more wild and varied form of magic that is close to its parent races, but on most occasions it is stronger.
For magic ideas or requests, PM me, otherwise, add to your form in the normal way.

NO GODLIKE CHARACTERS WILL BE ALLOWED.

Players.

Half-Breeds
Tali (Demal/Rae) ((Aura-Sight)) - Nabooru23
Avi "Wings" McLochlan (Demal/Old Human) ((Aura-Sight)) - Asilynne
Ortze, Elio's son (Demal/Falith-Hai) ((Wrong Soul - Erensuge)) - Emotional Faun Chiko-sai
Kywin Sagatii (Falith-Hai/Rae) ((Wrong Soul - Cybil Faliston)) - Tsukasa
Akakios (Old Human/Demal) - Haruko

Old Human
Talan Alfeer - Kalad1

Rae
Ahuk Oyohk (Wrong Soul - Uuleuhuen) - Plantae

Demal
Torran Ylldier (Aura-Sight) - Weasel Overlord
Tevam Ryllena (Wrong Soul - Zenzir Maeniy) - EVme15
Lalymai Athemettln - Crystal Tears
Zyka’n Keth - Vulpix.ck87


Falith-Hai
Dubheasa Isolda (Aura-Sight) – Drusilla

This is for reference through the RPG and I hope it will help you with your posts! If anyone needs extra world information, don't hesitate to PM me, ok?


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Name: Torran Ylldier.
Age: 29.
Gender: Male.
Race: Demal.
Appearance: Handsome and tall with elegant, almost elven features, Torran stands at just over 6 foot. He has long jet black hair that reaches to his shoulders and it is perfectly straight. His wings are black like his hair but the feathers have an iridescent dark blue shimmer to them somewhat resembling those of a Blackbird, and he has pale lilac eyes set under a dark brow that is often frowning. This gives his face a rather sullen appearance that is only broken by his Spirit Guide, Sulin.
Sulin is a small, silvery dragon with bat-like wings that are leathery in texture and appearance. His underbelly is a slightly greyer colour that sets off the silver of his scales, which are tinted with green down the ridge of his back and all the way down to his tail-tip, which ends in a viciously sharp spike of deepest green, edged on one side and curving back up his tail slightly. His claws are sharp and the same green as his tail-tip and eyes.
Magic: Torran has a weak type of Premonition, allowing him to foresee events just before they happen, but it is unpredictable most of the time. His magic extends to foreseeing people’s actions before they take them, an area in which Torran is stronger due to his Aura-Sight, but it is still quite weak.
Further meditations could enhance these powers.
Personality: Torran has a tendency to be moody, and he is lost without his daily rituals. During his time as High Guardian, he took great pride in ensuring that the rituals were completed at the same time every day, and he would often meditate for at least an hour beforehand. This behaviour can be explained by Torran’s love of his rank, and his previously lowly status in Telone society. (Explained in History.)
He is prone to bouts melancholy, and he is very serious most of the time, although he is quite witty, he almost never shows this side of himself.
Sulin, however, is the perfect counter to Torran’s moods. He is light-hearted and carefree and always ready with a joke to cheer Torran up. The bond that they share is precious to him beyond anything else, and he would fight to the death to defend Torran.
History: Torran came from quite an important family in Telone, his father was the head of the City Guard, but he was an illegitimate child, and therefore are deemed to be the most unimportant in Demal society.
His mother, Synna Bron was widowed, but fell in love with San Ylldier, Torran’s father. She bore Torran out of sacred wedlock so he, unlike his brother, Reimax, was not eligible for the rank of High Guardian. As he was an illegitimate child, he suffered much torment as a youngster, leading him to be scorned by other children, leading to him becoming introverted and quiet, a trait which he finds hard to let go of, even now.
Torran was the youngest Demal to ever achieve the rank of High Guardian, and this made him even more determined to prove himself, performing his daily rituals with zeal.
Upon the first Wrong Soul leaving the Border, Torran was aware of the auras in some of the Demal changing. Becoming darker, and more menacing. The woman he was to take for a wife, Seid Azerith, was possessed by a Wrong Soul, and he caught sight of a swirling tattoo spreading across her back and between her wings when she was changing her clothing. Taking a closer look at her aura, Torran realised that she was no longer the woman he loved.
By this time, Seid had noticed his growing horror at her new appearance, and she turned vicious, thinking to kill him before he told anyone of her secret. A battle commenced, and Torran slew Seid, whether by accident or on purpose, he will never say, but his grief was all-consuming, and soon afterwards he fled Telone, searching for redemption.
Other: He has a spirit guide by the name of Sulin Slytewing, who takes the form of a tiny, silver dragon. As Torran had the important rank of High Guardian before he left, he has a Spirit Guide. These are only available to the High Guardians of Telone.
Also, Torran has Aura-Sight.
[EDIT: Added Sulin’s personality and appearance]


~Torran Ylldier~
...On the Run...

The souls howled as Torran struck down one of their kin. Esmael was no more, and he was going to pay.

Half flying, half stumbling, Torran makes his escape, followed by his Spirit Guide, Sulin.

Sulin flaps his tiny wings desperately to keep up with Torran, who runs as he has never run before. He is terrified of the revelation he found in the walls of Telone, where he had felt so safe. It was pure luck that he had escaped unscathed, and he intended to stay unscathed for as long as he could manage.

The look in Seid’s eyes had been terrible to behold. Her soul no longer her own, she was a screaming feral beast, eager for revenge. Before her death, and Torran winces at the memory, he had forced information out of her.

The souls of the dead are dead no longer. They take bodies as they please, sending away their former inhabitants. They are hell bent on revenge. The world beyond death was not as they had been told. A raging void filled only with fear and madness, every soul strived to escape. Until one. Esmael had been the first, and he had summoned his fellow Wrong Souls to the feast. They took the bodies for themselves, replacing the original souls with their malevolent spirits.

But, and only a few knew this, some souls would not be ejected. Their hold on their bodies was too firm for the Wrong Souls to remove them, so they lived side-by-side. Unwillingly, in most cases. A dual identity their new life.

Seid had told him. Although she had had to be persuaded, a task that Torran had not enjoyed.

Shaking his head, he continued running as the rain poured down. It splashed down his back, running between his wings, tickling him as it trickles its way down his spine like a lover’s caress. Shielding his eyes from the rain, he turned to Sulin, breathing hard with the effort of running.

“I think I see shelter!” He shouted over the rainsound. Pointing South, he accelerated slightly, eager to get somewhere dry. Sulin sighed and followed, although he felt slightly better for the thought of shelter.

Torran spread his wings to the fullest as he ran, allowing the rain to cleanse every feather of its fatigue. Flapping slightly, he caught an updraft and beat into the air. It felt good to fly into the rain and wind, hair swept back and worries forgotten. Well, almost forgotten.

Sulin flew at his side, always near, as the entered the small group of trees. It wasn’t much, but it would do for the night and at least it would keep the rain off.
Landing and skidding in the mud, Torran flapped his wings to dry them off and then folded them behind his back comfortably. Hauling his pack over his shoulder, he pulled a rolled up map out of it and examined it.

“Marrustil is due South from where we are.” He prodded the map in the centre of a slightly wooded area. “We’re here,” He traced a line from Telone, “and we’ve come about three spans.* If we carry on at this rate, we’ll get there in a week But there’s no way we can carry on at this rate...so, I’d say at least a fourteen-day...” He winced at the length of time.

“It can’t be helped though.” Sighing, Torran lay back on the driest part of the ground he could find and closed his eyes.

“Sulin? Would you keep watch? I really need some rest...” Sulin nodded.

“Only for a few hours, though. I need some sleep too, you know?” He grinned and settled on a thick branch with a good view of the surrounding area. Glancing at Torran, he saw that he was sleeping already. He sniggered, as far as small dragons can snigger, and turned back to his watch duty. It was going to be a long night.

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*Spans are the custom measurement of distance, and one is equal to about a mile and whatever a mile is in Kilometres...
The currency is gold pieces, silver and bronze are worth less, obviously.

[Haruko.]

Name: Akakios also known as 'Chaos' or 'Kios' ? ? ?
Age: 26
Sex: Male
Race: Old Human/Demal
Appearance:
Has a long black coat that is always seen done up with silver buttons. The coat's collar comes up and covers half of his face, always seeming to hide his expression and his mouth when he talks. He doesn't were a shirt, but he does have silver arm guards that are hidden under the sleeves of the coat. His pants are made of leather that has been dyed/charred black. It matches the look he's going for very well.
He's got an attractive body, though it is built, its very lean. His skin is very pale, and his lips are rather thin, but in an attractive manner. His hair you ask? Its short thinned out (no not balding... it's a style) and white. It compliments his silver iris eyes, which have speckles of blood red inside. He stands about 6'2, and his 'aura' around him is dark, and evil.
He doesn't have many scars, and he has no tattoos. But his wrists are covered in scars. Showing his inward pain being released into the real world. He also has small silver chains that are like earrings, and he had the choice of hooking them into the top of his mouth. It actually adds to his scariness, and his canine teeth appear to be made of metal, but no one actually knows.
Akakios used to have wings, but something happened in his past, and they were brutally removed.
Magic: Due to his history, and the brutality of his family. He is experienced in the dark forms of magic. He can easily torture the mind, and create horrific illusions.
Personality: Due to his past, Akakios has grown numb. He doesn't tend to feel many 'warm' emotions, to put it to extremes; he's lucky if he feels guilt, or regret. He's much more silent then most would think, but he doesn't tend to open up quickly, though, not many can tell if he's a friend, or just someone they travel with. Akakios has trouble relating towards anyone, especially women. He finds it extremely disturbing if any girl begins to talk to him, and is quick to turn cold, its not offensive in anyway, its just his way of protecting himself from emotional pain again.
History: Akakios came from a abusive family. His mother was a Demal, and she used to be proud of what she was, but when her 'loving' husband began to rant, and beat her about having wings, and being a 'cursed' race. She saw her only son, Akakios, was in grave danger. In a desperate attempt to save him, she hacked of his wings, and told him to run and never come back. Akakios doesn't know this truth, so to him, his mother was insane, driven mad by his father's brutal beatings. Now he hunts his mother down, to 'return the favour.'
Other: Akakios has a custom made 'demonic' throwing stars. They're fast, lethal, and almost impossible to dodge.
Post Extract: Err... you said it was alright that I didn't have a post extract so....

-- Akakios --
Nightmares...

Deep in the sacred woods, hidden from most things that could ever harm a small half blood child. Akakios played, his short white hair dangled in front of his face, and his over sized black shirt, and torn pants made him look extremely adorable. Quietly, he played amongst the trees and bushes, hunting for anything that could capture a growing boys mind.

He heard his mother call him, her soft, gentle voice calling out his name. “Akakios? Akakios!” In a sort of worried expression, he smiled, and leaped over the log which he had been playing behind.

“Mommy!” He answered, bounding over to her, and jumping in her warm arms. He smiled, and looked up at her. He was slightly surprised she had tears pouring down from her cheeks, and then, she wept.

“Akakios… I want you to turn around… And Spread out your wings…”

Still not understanding, but being the good boy he was, Akakios listened, and just as his mother had asked. He spread out his wings as far as he could go, and began to imagine being a protective angel…

A wrenching pain made him topple over, he felt his stomach churn as the pain made its way all over his body, and then focused on his right shoulder. He couldn’t hold his stomach as the same pain coursed from his left shoulder. He watched his lunch come up through his throat and out his mouth onto the ground in an instant.
He cried, tears pouring from his beautiful silver eyes, as he turned towards his mother. He was holding his beautiful white wings. His heart ached with pain as his mother seemed to be angry with him. He stayed on his knees, begging through his heart, eyes and mind for his mother to hold him.
His words got caught in his throat as he watched his mother toss away his wings like garbage, his eyes, locked on them, locked on the blood, locked on the beauty that was quickly fading from them.

“Mommy…”

“I want you to leave Akakios.” He mother snarled, her eyes burning with hatred for her little boy. Her little angel, who longed his mothers safe arms again. “And NEVER come back….”

Shooting up from his bed was a man; his head slammed against the low bunk which was above him. His short white hair, face, and body drenched in the cold sweat which had been caused from his nightmare. He snarled, and looked around in the darkness….

“My god do I hate her…” He growled in an undertone. Her silver eyes now speckled with blood red as he carefully stepped up and away from his bed. Rubbing his forehead with his hand, he turned to face the small mirror which was hung carelessly on one of the wooden walls.
Starring back at him was a man who lacked a shirt. His body didn’t have scars, or tattoos, and was pale. But somehow, he was attractive, having a lean, muscular build, and white hair which somehow managed to attracted women… Something he really could do without.
He then reached over too his left ear, and grabbed a chain, and what would’ve been painful at the beginning, he carelessly hooked the chain onto an un-seen hook embedded into his mouth. And then, repeated the process for the right ear.

He was wearing his pants, so all he really had to do was slip on his arm guards, grab his jacket, do it up, and he was out of there. Grabbing his small amount of things, he disappeared from the inn, and entered the world; which was sad to say, was raining.

Glancing about his world, he eyed a suspicious gang, all chatting amongst themselves; they eyed Akakios strangely, before going back and muttering to each other.

“Cursed bandits…” He mutters, and then wanders off, keeping his eyes ahead of him, and his keen ears listening for the bandits who were bound to fallow him.

And just as he had imagined… They fallowed…

“Hey! Pretty boy!” One of them called, Akakios turned, raising an eyebrow, he was one of the last people anyone would deem pretty, let alone, pretty boy. He smirked, and watched them draw their swords. “You’ve been messing around with us enough.”

Akakios stayed silent.

“Die!” They all called, but as soon as they had jumped forward, they had fallen. Wicked steel stars embedded into their foreheads, necks, and eyes. Kios smiled. True fully, he was far from godlike, when you jump full on at an opponent, you usually ended up dead anyway.
And with that, he moved on. Spreading his imaginary wings, he began his journey again. Attempting to find the woman who had betrayed him long ago…

[Emotional Faun Chiko-sai]

Name: Ortze Elio's son; sometimes addressed as Elio instead of his proper name by the Falith-Hai
(Wrong Soul name): Erensuge
Age: 23
Sex: Male
Race: Half-breed - Demal father, Falith-Hai mother
Appearance: Ortze has golden-bronze skin, with dark eyes and bright red hair, messy and spiked, that grows to the nape of his neck. He's 6'1". Not what you'd call handsome, but his face is long and clever with a strong jaw and high cheekbones, always with a ready grin playing about his lips. His ears are pointed, and the left one is pierced three times. There are dark scars, like pinpricks, down the curve of his back, that look like he's been through some morbid sort of torture, and more on his chest. His wings are of the albatross variety, long, narrow and white in colour with black tips. As such he's more of a glider than an actual flier. The Wrong Soul's token tattoo appears on the back of his neck as a snake swallowing its own tail, though the image swirls constantly, so that the exact location of the snake's mouth cannot be ascertained.
Magic: He has never been initiated as a true Falith-Hai with any plant, nor does he exhibit any ability of the Demal apart from flight; but he bonds quickly with animals, and animals of weaker mindsets like pigeons find themself swept along by his charisma, becoming willing to serve him as much as is in their powers. He also talks to plants but shows no talent of controlling them - more often he ends up being snarked by the plant or becoming the plant's errand boy.
(Wrong Soul power): Ability to conspire with and control all snakes, large and small; as an extension of this he can call forth eidolons of snakes, and he has heightened speed and skill with poisons, whether making them, emitting them or injecting them into a person's bloodstream.
Personality: Ortze is smooth-talking (talking speed is parallel with thinking speed) and doesn't hold grudges, but he never forgets them. Very sarcastic, stemming from the fact that he feels that he must help people but still doesn't want to be seen as a bleeding heart. Once he makes up his mind, it is not easily changed at all; this may be why Erensuge hasn't evicted him from his body yet. Loves the Falith-Hai side of his family very much, although he doesn't show it, and has a healthy distaste for Demalistic (sp?) rituals, though years of conditioning have made them a bearable chore.
Erensuge is the kind of person you wouldn't want to meet in a dark alley in the hours between twilight and morning. There's a smouldering kind of anger, or bitterness, inside him always. He's sneaky enough, yes, but it's a baser kind of cunning, and he sometimes lapses into blind rage - there are times when he gets ticked off by the sad reality that Erensuge by himself is not enough to get rid of Ortze's soul; aforementioned soul is obviously going to be keeping him company in their body's head for a long, long while; and as a consequence he tries to maim the body. Maim the body you're currently occupying. Right. >_>
Ortze occasionally finds this amusing, but he's getting tired of having to constantly play power games with Erensuge to avoid the maiming (or other sorts of damage) actually taking place, and Erensuge himself seems to gain more and more influence each time he confronts him. It's a thankless job..
History: Ortze's mother Ilargia was the eldest daughter of the Falith-Hai elder Eguzki-Lorea, the closest thing they had to a leader. She bonded with a cereus plant. Her eleven sisters, all bonded with flowers, became witches or priestesses, of a sort, helping young Falith-Hai in the rituals of their joining with plants; but Ilargia fell in love with and married a Demal, Elio Tximistari. Elio died in service at the Border before Ortze reached four years, however, and after his death Ilargia slowly became insane. She was eventually incarcerated by the Falith-Hai for trying to kill Ortze when he was eight.
Ortze was sent to his father's relatives in Telone. He made occasional trips home to the forest of the Falith-Hai to visit his mother, maternal grandfather and aunts. His mother was lucid most times, but he tries to forget the visits when she wasn't. He didn't enjoy his life in Telone and was always wishing he could return to the forests. The Tximistari family refused him this because by tradition all males in the family entered the City Guard, full-breed or not. He made the Guard when he was twenty; in a skirmish at the Border he was overtaken by Erensuge in circumstances not fully explained but related to the death of his father at the same spot.
Other: The wrongest Wrong Soul you've ever seen - there is constant conflict going on in Ortze's mind because Erensuge can't seem to get rid of Ortze's soul, as much as he tries to. Oh, and Ortze's eleven aunts really, really love him. They spoil him when he comes home to visit. And it appears with the advent of her madness his mother also received partial Aura-Sight.
Post Extract: From The River. sign-up post extract link

EDIT: I did a pic of Ortze - not very good, but it'll have to do.
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Ortze Tximistari/Erensuge
"Do you want to?"*
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Another rainy-but-not-really-rainy day in Telone, where it mostly drizzled and threatened to rain instead of full-fledged flood-bringing storms when the whole street was up to its calves in a fierce torrent, and beggars' old slippers floated away down the gutters and over the sidewalks, like flotillas of leathery doom. Ortze liked days like this, but Erensuge always waited for the storms. According to Erensuge, on one of his better days when he had actually not mentioned disemboweling Ortze and the rest of sanity, not even once nor in passing, there was power in storms. Raw power, waiting to be tapped into.

Today was Ortze's day off. In normal circumstances he spent his days off in the tavern, drinking not a little but socializing much more. He thought that having something scaly turning and writhing about your gut (or where your gut was, in your mind) warranted a bit more than normal circumstances. Dammit, the guy was a freaking psycho. Granted, a psycho that was fun to bait, but still...

Nope, not normal circumstances. Not at all.

The pigeon that Ortze had been waiting for, patiently, chin on palm on arm resting on wooden sill, landed on his head with a coo. Ortze divested it of the minute package that had come on its leg. Dagbit the pigeon took a little birdseed from the dish on the sill, stuffed itself, and went on its way. Oddly enough, it chose to relieve itself on the window of a Guard captain that Ortze particularly disliked because he kept on and on whinging about rituals and timing. The frequency with which pigeons chose to splatter his windows with organic whitewash was a neverending source of amazement to the cleaners (and some say to the captain himself). Certainly Ortze was never heard to comment about it. At least not in public.

Today was one of Erensuge's quiet days. Erensuge was communing with his kin, further enhancing the ways and means with which they would Bring Down the Border and Lead Their Fellow Happy Friends to Glory and the Promised Happy Land Full of Happy Things. Which left Ortze to open the le-

- You, boy. I never said that.
- Never said what? Erensuge, you are the most annoying wrong soul a body had to deal with, I swear.
- I never said anything about happiness and glory, nor did I say it with capitals. I was - am - communing with my kin, to further our mission towards destroying the accursed Border, and we will finally gain what we were promised, aeons ago, by gods older than this land.
- There, you said it.
- What?
- Nothing.
- Stupid hatchling. And this body is mine, boy. Mine that I claimed not half a moon ago, and marked with my mark, and you are just chaff that I neglected to brush away in the intensity of my becoming.
- You couldn't, dearest worm. You couldn't get rid of me.
- I tire of this. Mark yourself lucky that I do not possess you, and rip your soft belly apart, or-
- Just go away. It'll be better for both of us.

Erensuge, hissing and muttering, went away. Ortze felt a touch of communication, a soft indent that might have been made by another wrong soul calling to Erensuge, that he could not hear or decipher because it was in a language completely alien to him. He opened his letter, and a tiny vial no bigger than his thumb, not a dead once-white flower nor additional messages, fell out, which surprised him. He had not gotten a present from his aunts in a long time, which was not to say they loved him less, but was at the request of the Tximistari family proper, so as not to 'spoil the boy's concentration during rituals, which are times meant for introspection of the soul and making peace within'.

It wasn't like he never ever did the rituals. He just only did them when he knew there were people watching, and barely tolerated the Demal community's obsession with them, was all.

The vial was full of a blackish powder that reeked when he opened it to take a sniff. He thought he knew what it was - he had seen the live version living off his Aunt Mari's collarbone, although he had usually only taken notice of the blooms. Then he read the letter, which was written in a mostly scrawling sprawling hand and inkblots, except for the last line in very black ink at the bottom.

Dearest skysoarer, Lovely golden boy (blot) dearest Ortze,
Indulgence (blot) I have been indulging myself. This is the second missive I write you in the same moon. Father Lorea says that it could not bode well and that the Tximistari will complain, but i tell him with fervour that you are My little boy and not theirs, and he is quiet for a wh(blot). wretched quill! (blot)
Mannered darlingest Mari has given me a new one. i shall now write with no blots
I have been visited by visions of the most troubling magnitude. They are terrible bloody and sanguine with snakes coiled and writhing and worst of all they were all about you, my beautiful golden child with Elio's wings. I was alerted to the monstrous depths I had been brought to in my disobedience, that i had been cursing and Spitting and scratching, howling for you, without regard for person nor creature, and Uroda had to restrain me, and that is why I have little prickles all in my dress and arms..
Nobody takes heed of them now save for me, and even I have my doubts to my personal sagacity, though darlingest darkest Mari has hugged the nightmare to her mannered heart in her dark way. She has an unnatural fixation for the subject. She insisted I send you a present from her, but would not let me see it; i nearly became Disobedient but Uroda calmed me. It is here somewhere rolled up. I hope you like it.
Be strong dearest Ortze. Do not let the snakes claim you as they did in my mare.
I love you.
Ilargia
you will know what to do with my present when the time comes. may it never. - mari

Dark Aunt Mari in her mourning white and Christmas roses was the aunt that loved Ortze the most, even if he did not know it.

Erensuge returned to control with a snake's grin on Ortze's face, and this was one of the reasons Ortze kept a large convex mirror in his room. He wanted to make sure that it wasn't him that was plotting all the fiendish plans. He wanted to see the slits in the green eyes, and the uncharacteristic baring of canines, and be truly sure.

Erensuge looked with Ortze's eyes at dark Aunt Mari's phial, and the snake's grin grew wider. He was pleased about something, although Ortze was not sure what. He realized the full implications of his aunt's present just as Erensuge put the phial almost lovingly in a pouch and tied it around Ortze's neck.

- My. Your aunt is a forward-thinking lady. You know what that is, boy?
- Black hellebore root. Rusalka's.
- Yes. Deadly, deadly poison. You know? Of course you do.
- I won't need to use it.
- You can never be sure, boy.
- I'm always sure. And I'm sure I won't need it.
- Enough of your grandstanding - it's good news, boy. We've got a squealer to silence by the name of Torran Ylldier. Already got a girl, a good girl on the job, but couldn't hurt to give backup. And along the way - in the mirror Ortze saw the snake-eyes flash with blind, impulsive rage - we'll see if we can off your delightful family without too much trouble.
- Just you try.
- Thank you, I will. Now, you've always been wanting to know why I picked you as a vessel. I'll tell you this now, and I'll be only needing to tell you this once.
- No. It's fine. I can live with it. I'll kick you out without anyone else's help. Without killing myself.
And, before he could reach a mindly hand round Erensuge's mindly serpentful throat,
- It's because you were weak.

The drizzle turned into a storm, then, and lightning flashed full across the grey sky, and the drains overflowed with water; yet there was still a lone figure in oilskins gliding to the street from a window in the Guards' dormitory building. It vanished among the little leeways and back alleys of Telone.

Ortze let Erensuge take his body then, though he resolved that as soon as he was done with his depression, he would pay back, in full.
------------------------
* Lucky, lucky, you're so lucky!
** Sorry for the drabbly rain. It's been raining buckets in true monsoon-season style over here... flash floods, thunder, lightning, floating slippers, the works. And sorry too for the long post. I got carried away.

[Drusilla]

Name: Dubheasa Isolda
Age: 20
Sex: Female
Race: Falith-Hai
Appearance: She stands at just under five feet tall with pale, green-tinted skin, long and unruly black hair, and midnight blue eyes.
Magic: She can communicate with plants and can often persuade them to help her, and she has some mild healing power. Her plant is Mystra, a black rose.
Personality: Kind of dark and mysterious, Dubheasa is extremely intelligent and very unusual. She goes along with tradition, but doesn't really commune with her people. She lives on the edge of the land, away from other beings; why, no one really knows. Despite her anti-social behaviour, she's kind, gentle, and introspective; many come to her with problems or for comfort.
History: She had a 'normal' childhood, but was always the quiet one who never caused any trouble. She was labled as "creepy" at an early age and was, in a way, shunned, but it never bothered her. She prefered to be alone, to think and to examine how things worked in nature.
Other: Aura-sight! w00t!
Post Extract: Dream of the Archer- Regeane



[color=#2080a0]Dubheasa ("DIH-vessa")

Something on the wind...

Go to the east...

Something in the earth...

Go to the east...

"Dubheasa, what *are* you doing?"

I glanced up at my mother, whose approach I hadn't noticed due to my preoccupation with... whatever it was.

"I heard something..."

She rolled her eyes. "You're *always* hearing things, Dubheasa!" My mother threw her hands up in exaspiration. "You never were a normal child, you know that?"

"Yes, mother, I know.. what is it that you want?" I said, annoyed and bored, not really caring about what she wanted but trying to get on with my own life.

"I wanted to know if you would come and actually *help* for once..."

Go to the east... Dubheasa, go to the east...

My mother's voice fell into the background as the voice of the earth, my true mother, spoke to me. There was trouble in the east...

"I must leave," I said quietly.

"What are you talking about?" snapped my mother, irritated at being interrupted.

I shook my head. "I don't even know, mother... but I must leave, and now. I am needed."

She stared at me as if I had begun to speak another tongue, half in fear and half in disbelief. I stood, briefly embraced her, and turned on my heel to walk off into the trees. I would head for Tai Falls... and then, who knew?
-----

[Arnen]

Sorry for the slight delay, haven't had much time for writing stuff lately.

~Name: Tali
~Age: 7
~Gender: Female
~Race: Half Demal, half Rae
~Appearance: Small and a bit sickly-looking, her skin is pale even for her Rae heritage. Her hair is a white-blonde, which usually looks more sand-colored due to the layers of dirt and grime that usually adorn it. It falls to her lower back, and is slightly wavy. She has a plain face, with dull blue-grey eyes and a short nose. Her eyes give off a sort of sad aura, deepened by the lines of hunger and pain etched into her young face. A pair of dust-grey wings protrude from between her shoulder blades, arcing up to just over the top of her head and reaching down to her ankles at the tips. To accommodate for these appendages, the dirty white sheet she wears like a robe has two large holes torn in the back. She wears no shoes.
~Personality: She's a difficult book to read, owing to her quiet nature and often unreadable expression. The traumatic nature of her short life has burned all the childish cheer and naivete away, leaving an untrusting shell. Her ability to sense Wrong Souls adds to this paranoia. She has never been known to laugh, or even smile. She just stares off into the distance, only speaking when she absolutely has to, her speech slightly broken and imperfect.
~Magic: She possesses weak empathic abilities, as well as the ability to create moderately powerful magical shields.
~History: Most of her memory is locked deep inside due to its traumatic nature. Sometimes, however, she does get fleeting glimpses in her mind's eye of a Demal woman, dressed in the robes of a High Guardian, and a Rae man, dressed in peasant's garb. On some nights, she can hear screaming inside her head. She lives as a beggar, making her home in a dank alleyway and making her meals of the trash thrown out by those of higher status.
~Other: She has Aura Sight.
~Post Extract: (in sign-up topic)

*~:'Tali':~* [Location: Telone]

The drizzle of rain in Telone collected in the gutters, held quivering precariously for a moment before it spilt over. It spattered noisily on a bit of old trash in the alley below, which upon closer inspection seemed to be connected to a small form shivering beneath its shelter. In fact, it was not trash at all, but a pair of dust-grey wings. They were attached to the young girl huddled beneath their feeble cover, poking out through two large tears in the back of some robe-like garment that had long since lost all recognizable shape.

The child gave a weak cry in her sleep as she rolled over, her sunken face contorted as if in fear or pain. Grubby ivory tresses fell into the grime around her. Her wings now beneath her, she was immediately met with a splattering of rainwater from the gutter above. With a light gasp, her tiny frame was shot upright from the shock of the cold water on her face. Dull blue-grey eyes darted around, searching out any danger, before a veil seemed to fall before them, and the child's expression blankened.

She stood, her spindly little legs seeming almost incapable of supporting even her own small weight. A single feather, matching the rainclouds in the sky, was torn from its anchor in this action, and fell to land in a muddy puddle. Ignoring this, the girl made her way forward, shrinking back as she reached the entrance to the alleyway. She could feel things out there. She couldn't comprehend what they were, but she could feel a definite badness coming from them. She could feel them all over Telone, though she couldn't pinpoint exactly where.

Trying to suppress the feeling, she took a shuddering breath, then coughed, then bent over wheezing as her entire body shook with the action. After almost a full minute of this, she straightened as if this had not occurred, and walked forward tentatively into the streets of Telone.


You can run into Tali if you want. If your character is a Wrong Soul, she will more than likely run as fast as she can in the opposite direction as soon as they come near her.

[Plantae]

The Form. I've edited it slightly.

= Ahuk Oyohk =

There was a certain taste to rain. If you looked up long enough, and let enough of it dribble down your throat, you could realize this. It was not simple water, no, but water from everywhere. It gathered collectively and lashed out with a fury when there was too much of it together. In this, it had a sort of human quality to it. So yes, there was a taste to rain, and when I let my mind wander... sometimes it even tasted like the marshes.

No other traveler would have stood like a dull post amongst such a torrent, and I was miles from Telone, from which I could see a great grey mass looming with a certain bitterness. I stood, simply because there was such a surreal quality to it. I had never expected to still be alive and standing after what had overtaken me.

- I do not like when you dwell so incoherently, Ahuk. It makes my mind wander.

"It is a swift justice to you, my dear Uuleuhuen. Your meandering mind is a danger in itself." I spoke aloud, to no one in particular.

- It is improper to reprimand your host so, Ahuk.

"Is it you that is my host, or I that am yours?"

- That is the right question, but it is not for either of us to know the answer.

"How many innocents will you kill tonight, sage of sands?"

- That depends on your cooperation, and your definition of innocent.

"Doesn't it always?"

A deep silence followed and in the tide of this melancholy, I stroked my hair fondly. When I had first been possessed, I had fallen unconscious in a fit of nightmares, which had slowed into eerie dreams, and eventually brought on a wave of consciousness. The waking process was a slow one, and I had to use all of my power just to stand up those first few moments. Ever since I could feel my limbs again, I had not been able to stop marveling that I still possessed them. I had been so certain that Uul was to oust me from this body we shared.

- Your thoughts come across too loud, young one. I will withdraw my "perversion" to your being for a moment or two, lest you continue to disturb the rest of an old man.

With his word, a small weight was removed from my breast, as if a chain had been lying across its length previously. There was a rotund splintering sensation, and then it was as if a bird had fluttered from my shoulder. I was free to think in peace.

My unconscious elegy was interrupted as the night was split by the cry of a child. From the road to Telone, there was a small woodland off to the Northeast. Perhaps a hundred yards away, the shriek had been particularly boisterous to escape the cover noise of the screeching wind. If I had not the perception of the marshfolk, it would have surely been lost to it, a fierce breed of storm and discontent.

Looking behind me as if to assure myself that he was gone, that his presence did not reside within me, I took careful steps in that direction. The soft dove grass, a long green-white reed that was native to the grasslands of the area, brushed against the soles of my feet tenderly. The spread of wildflowers, clover, and this grass was slowly dying away to reveal a brown carpet. The clove of seasons. Soon, it would again be autumn, and then the dead of winter. With this, I reminisced briefly on the celebration the Rae held on the Winter Solstice. There were songs of great mourning to the dead warriors of the Rae, the souls who had been lost to our people hundreds of years ago when the ritualistic Demal and our marshfolk had warred on many fronts. The stains of war were still visible along certain paths, torn battlefields full of creatures who lathered themselves in the scent of old blood. Primeval beasts who had been formed from the great void long ago, and had proceeded to scavenge all life ever since. Nothing grew on these "Red Fields" as they were so starkly named. The Rae had a mild rivalry with the Demal, who though haughty in their worship, had started the war. It could be said that this was the bias of our race. With the knowledge Uul had passed to me, I learned that this was not selective history. This was fact.

I sighed as the scream of the little girl, or so I realized by her siren's tone, redoubled in effort. I was perhaps twenty yards from the outlying brush of the wood now, which I saw was thick with ferns and carpeted in moss; the canopy overshadowed the deep of the forest. The treads of animals were evident to the eye of a hunter, and I saw what I had not seen before. In light of the rain, the taste of it in the air had been diluted, but suddenly it came to me. Smoke. I stumbled awkwardly through the thick tangle, of such a density that I was not used to. It was hard going, but eventually I reached the dying blaze, and the child.

The remains of a caravan were skewn across this road parallel to the one I had previously traveled. The bodies of men and women, gypsies, littered the ground intermixed with the hard faces and bevy of weapons that represented bandits. Thieves, murderers, assassins. It was in their lot that I felt no remorse for the loneliness of my sole, soul companion. The side of the main cart was intricately decorated, reds and browns that had been consumed by the fire and charred an uncharacteristic mud. Beauty washed and burned away, as was the irony of the world. It was here, just sheltered by the rain that there was the papoose and cradle of a youngling. The grainy wood, likely from the forest South of here, had smashed the cradle to fine tinder. It was hand carved, and I lamented the loss of such fine craftsmanship momentarily. It was then that I found the face I had sought, a red, constricted visage that was a discomforted little girl.

There may have been a linen sheet small enough to make a proper blanket, but it had likely blown away, and left her nearly naked body victim to the wind and heresy of rain. As I slowly lowered my hands to retrieve and comfort the rosy little baby that was the only survivor of a raid on nearly helpless traders, I wheezed involuntarily and what felt like liquid fire flowed through my veins.

- The cold has already gotten to this one, Ahuk. She will not survive.

"I would retrieve her anyway. It makes no difference to me."

- She will die.

"I will comfort her..."

- She will die.

I clutched my head with intensity, attempting to dislodge the hard whisper in my thoughts. It told an obvious truth, but I did not want to listen. I wanted to hold this child, to grasp her in my arms, so that she might fall slowly asleep against the warmth of my own pale body.

A force ripped through my limbs as I tried to reach again, and I whimpered. My father would have scowled at such behavior. I was one of the shamans, the shamans of the Rae! It was not my station to be moved so quickly to lachrymose. However, it was to my great distress that Uuleuhuen was too strong. He was stressed at holding me, but he was still the stronger. His will was of many years practice, and it showed evidently. Regret shook me. I was beaten, broken. What an accomplishment to break the will of a warrior! I thought it with a certain bitterness.

A peculiar sensation, like a thousand small and uncomfortable balls pressing at my body, swept through me. I watched as my feet first, and then my legs, dissolved into a fine soot. Each was blown away. I took one last fleeting look at the child in the papoose, her small tufts of auburn hair standing out awkwardly. I wanted no more than to sing her the hymns of my people, to shelter her from pain and the elements, to sing her a soft lullaby to sleep in my low, lolling voice. It was the cruelty of the world that each grain of me was being thrown to the wind as if it had no worth when all I had needed was to comfort the dying, like I would have wanted someone to do to me if I had fallen on the battlefield. Just enough so that I could go to the great beyond with a single happy thought to latch on to... for I knew, being part with Uul, what lie beyond the dark of death. I was not a bleeding heart, but I understood when such pretense could be thrown aside.

With my last gaze, I watched the baby's features sway and swagger one last time before ceasing. The light in her brilliant blue eyes went out like a candle. Her fire was gone, and I was bereft. But, my occupant had work to do, and she had died. He had been logically right, which was the worst thought.

- It is the cruelty of the world.

=====

[kalad1]

Name:Talan Alfeer
Age:25
Sex: Male
Race: Old Human
Appearance: Standing rather short at five feet tall, Talan's skin is tanned from being outside almost all day everyday. His hair is almost completely white, with just the slightest tinge of blond in it, and it goes well with his blue eyes. He has a very strong build, which is not unusual considering his profession. He almost always travels wearing his signature red armor, the left arm of which ends in a shield gauntlet(real thick gauntlet that takes the place of a shield) His head is only protected by a red metal headband, and he always has his longsword at his side, the gauntlet bears his family crest, a hand inside a circle.
Magic: The only magic ability he has is to be able to heal small wounds, and even then, only on himself. It originates with the Rae blood in his family, but it's worn thin in recent generations.
Personality: At his heart, Talan is a nice person, but he suppresses that side of himself, favoring being self serving, cold, and uncaring. This is mostly due to a traumatic event he witnessed as a child. He does occasionally let his good side show, but he doesn't like doing it, perceiving it to be weak. He sells his services to the highest bidder, and never asks questions about why.
History: Talan was born into a family who were dedicated to helping those in need, no matter who they were. The older members of the family, like his grandparents, used their abilities to heal others, and those whose abilities were too weak learned more traditional medicine. Talan's childhood was fairly uneventful, and he, for all intents and purposes looked forward to continuing the family legacy, along with his sister, Talia.

That all changed one night, when Talan was ten, after treating some mercenaries that had gotten beaten up in a drunken brawl, the patients' aggressors came to finish the job. After killing most of the family, as well as the mercenaries, they set fire to the house, which Talia was trapped in. Talan watched these events unfold with horror and terror. He came to a twisted conclusion, if they had not helped the mercenaries, no one would have died, most especially not Talia. Where the other members of the family who survived started to rebuild, he started to learn to fight, and distance himself from his emotions.

At the age of sixteen, he set out as a mercenary, being condemned by the rest of his remaining family, he went on to make a name for himself, as a mercenary who would do anything at all for money, with very few exceptions. Simultaneously famous and infamous, he has done things both laudable and reprehensible.
Other:He is most known for two events, one is for winning a massive sword fighting contest, the other is for taking part in an event where innocents were killed so a corrupt noble could get his hands on their land. Talan aided him, then, when he refused to pay more, released the secret to the world.

Talan Alfeer
__________________________________________________ _____



I carefully paced in a circle, each step carefully measured, flowing with panther-like grace. My opponent moved with equal grace. I weighed his skill, just as he weighed mine, each of us waiting for some unseen, unheard signal to begin. Suddenly, he rushed at me, his moves quick and fluid, striking downwards, just as fluidly, I knocked it aside with my sword, swinging out with my gauntleted arm in an attempt to catch him in the gut. He jumped back, dodging the blow. I charged forward, pressing my advantage, and from there, everything seemed to blur, my mind a constant focus on the now. Blows traded back and forth, a small nick here or there, it was an exhilirating fight that the crowd was getting to see today. Suddenly, I kicked up some of the muddy earth, spraying it into his eyes, and I sprang forward, running my sword into a small kink in his armor, and ramming it through his gut. Exhausted, he fell down to the ground, bleeding profusely.

I walked out, taking my pay, and left the illegal fighting ring in Telone. It was time to move on. I stalked out, concentrating a bit to make my scratches close up faster. I hadn't had any good commissions lately, perhaps a nice one would pop up, if not... Well, I could just head to another town, there were promising opportunities everywhere. Plenty of people to wring money out of...

ooc: sorry for the delay, if you'd like, your char can encounter and possibly hire Talan.

[EVme15]

*glances around and slowly inches in* The weekend is for posting, yup yup yup.

Name: Tevam Ryllena
Wrong Soul name: Zenzir Maeniy
Age: 23
Sex: Male
Race: Demal
Appearance: He stands around five and a half feet, with a rather thin and muscle-lacking build. His pale blond hair reaches nearly halfway down his back, naturally falling between his wings, and is mostly straight except for at the end where it starts to curl upwards. His eyes are a blue-green color and slanted, making him look as if he’s always in thought (which he usually was...). His wings themselves are a deep purple color, but the feathers actually fade to a lighter shade towards the bases. His clothes consist of a loose blue shirt with a very wide neckline for his wings, and long pants that are colored black. Zenzir’s tattoo is green, usually in the form of a shifting line, beneath the left arm.
Magic: Tevam had a rather weak form of telekinesis which would occasionally go out of his control when not focused enough upon.
Wrong Soul power: Zenzir’s power is temporal manipulation, but it’s not very strong either. He can rewind to an upwards of ten seconds, slow down time around him to one fourth speed for thirty seconds his time (so the faster he goes, the shorter it is for others), or freeze time for five seconds. These limits may extend over time.
Personality: Tevam was relatively emotionless, generally ignoring the outside world unless absolutely necessary. While many thought that he doesn’t feel at all, every once in a while he’d snap, letting go of all his emotions in one big flood. Generally he’d devote himself to his reading and meditation. He was uncharacteristically ritual-less, reading when he tired of meditating, meditating when he tired of reading, sleeping only when he was too tired to concentrate, and eating only when he absolutely had to.
Zenzir, despite his attempts to follow this pattern, shows emotion a bit more than Tevam did. He also goes through the cycles a lot faster, although with his lack of regular contact with others, this tends to go unnoticed.
History: To Be Revealed
Other: Wrong Soul. He’s also relatively weak physically, but quick on his feet.

Uncharacteristically pink
~|~|~|~|~
Tevam Ryllena
- Zenzir Maeniy -

The rain beat upon the roof, the soft hissing sound echoing around the room. It barely reached my ears as I sat, concentrating, communicating. I spoke with the others, not of my kind, yet my brethren all the same.

Many still remained beyond the Border. I was trying to reach them, give them a beacon of hope, that the hell in which we all had stayed would not hold for much longer. I had freed myself, and I would do what I could for the others. We all knew what misery lay in our ‘promised land’.

But I could not reach. Even with this Demal body, these beings so able to focus themselves, I had not the ability to speak freely. Occasionally I could make contact, and yet it would be gone in another instant. Confined to their prison, the others waited in the torturous depths behind the Border. If only I could set them all free right now, let them race into the world as I had, regaining a body that they should have possessed all along.

I felt myself unconsciously reaching out to another on this side.

<... Oh, hello... Is this about... No, I didn’t. He has disappeared completely... I don’t know... It might be that yours just is particularly resistant... I do not know what would happen if you destroyed the body... No, no stirrings at all. He’s gone... Yes... I know, however... Wait a moment.>

I broke off the conversation as a knocking met my ears. Slowly my eyes slid open, falling upon the door to the room I was in. Yet again the knocking. And then, a voice. Soft, feminine.

“Tevam? I’m sorry to disturb you... may I come in?”

<I will contact you later.>

“Come in, sister.”

The door slid open, creaking slightly, revealing a figure standing behind it. She possessed an appearance very similar to the body I had taken, with longer hair and wings a shade darker. Nattye, his younger sister.

“I’m sorry for the disturbance, but I was told to fetch you. There is a man who says he wishes to speak with you.”

[Vulpix.ck87]

Jimmeeeeeeee....!! I mean, er, post time!! ^^


[color=teal]Name: Zy’kan Keth [Zai-kahn]
Age: 22
Sex: Male
Race: Demal
Appearance: For a man who stands at a mere 5’8”, he certainly seems a lot taller than he is, and we can safely assume that his ego is responsible for contributing those few extra imaginary feet. Despite his slender build, there’s a look of solidarity and fullness about him, and a look of confidence too, though not without reason. The silken powder-blue hair that flows down to tickle the base of his wings seems perfect in every strand and the wings themselves - narrow and rising high to the joint above his head only to arch back down, the tips pondering mere inches from the ground - consist of a thousand thick, lush, sweeping feathers, a smattering of which tumble down his ribs and caress his sides with the palest azure. A straight nose, refined jaw and almond-shaped eyes are the features which win him the glances; the expression filled eyebrow arch and forest-green sparkle of his eye make the many heads turn. His every movement utters grace, a word which falls effortlessly from the soft strawberry lips, and an easy smile breaks through the smooth milky skin to charm and charm again. He’s a beautiful creature indeed.. ^^ But behind all the magic, who the hell knows?
Magic: Invasive telepathy, he can plant false ideas and images into the minds of others without being discovered, therefore altering their views and their sight. This ranges from planting simple falsities (names, directions, the feel/texture of an object) and building on existing images (eg. causing a weed to appear as a rose); to the ultimate grandeur of changing someone’s basic instinctual beliefs (telling someone they’re poultry/ the world is made of cheese, etc.) and imposing hallucinations (creating a false scenery out of nothing). The latter drains an increasing amount of energy from Zy’kan, and aren’t always effective anyway (people start to doubt). He can do a mass broadcast to many people, or focus on one. He can plant sounds and messages into someone’s head like a conscience, and can induce mild auditory hallucinations. He can place a permanent charm upon an object so that visually it is what he imagines ( he will not admit to placing one of these upon himself). People see things a different way if Zy really believes they look that way. His magic’s at it’s greatest when he works it on himself, a thing he constantly does without even realising.
Personality: Having used his abilities to attempt to seduce women and to make himself sparkle ever since he hit puberty, he can’t really attain the façade that his aim in life is pointful, or for the good of others, or, at a stretch, even remotely moral. Some might call it shallow and, not that it bothers him, he’ll use the quickest and most effective means to change their mind, which doesn’t mean he has superhuman verbal powers of persuasion (no-ones that good). He’s often very self absorbed with mentally maintaining his appearance and he has an enormous strength of mind to believe what he wants, because eventually he can make it so. Effectively, this means he can be rather stubborn and ignorant. He’s prone to mood swings due to the emotions he thinks he should have. He’s not a bad person, just a little distracted.
History: His father was a border guard, and his greatest ambition was to have his own son to follow in his footsteps, which Zy’kan was only too happy to achieve when he was young. Due to this he’s a fully trained and highly ranked border guard, however, once he got a permanent fixture at the border, he inevitably became distracted by the opposite sex, and a few of the prettier men, and left his position for hours at a time, with only an illusion of himself left behind.. When he came back one day to find a crack in his sector of the border (the area he was meant to maintain and guard) and witnessed the escape of a couple of souls, he fled from Telone, knowing that he was knee deep in **** now. His normally carefree conscience is now burdened with the guilt of his blunder, a feeling he’s not used to and is pretty sure he doesn‘t like. There must someway to rid myself of this feeling, he thinks, a way to free myself of the guilt.. Hmm, don’t worry, kids, he’ll do the right thing at the end of the day..
Other: He has a long narrow sword, the hilt wrapped with blood red fabric and, naturally, jazzed up a bit by yours truly. It has a shifting core of liquid mercury, and it is said that a wound will inflict insanity on the receiver.
Post Extract: You’ve seen my posts before wurzel..


Zy’kan Keth ~ Demal border-guard on the run

A thunder of hooves rang through the night's silence as the great black stallion wound it’s way down the narrow lanes of the city's outskirts, it's black velvet hide flashing in the occasional lantern's dull blaze. It was a shadow even in the darkness of these backstreets, halting and turning at every corner it came to, it’s silken tail whipping the cool night air behind it as it's powerful ebony haunches bore it forwards. The cloaked figure that rode the stallion drew little attention, although the noise the stallion's hooves created woke many of the alley's housed inhabitants, who rolled over restlessly in their sleep, perhaps sat up dazedly in the darkness as the creature passed by. Yet the figure held no identity, it was a flicker in the air and a blindspot within the mind's eye, a place where the darkness fell in upon itself, here one second and gone the next, like a fleeting ripple of hot air on a heated summer's day. It was ungraspable, and all the citizens of Telone were left with was a feeling of distinct unease, whether it be in their own stirring minds, rising harsh from their sleep, or within their comfortable dreams that would soon turn over into nightmares.

And yet the figure beneath the cloak was so vivid. Hiding beneath the shifting shadow of his immaterial cladding, he pulsed and gasped and writhed with emotion, twitching at the frequent bursts of adrenaline that rushed his body and rocked his soul. His wind stung eyes were nevertheless stretched wide, grasping every detail of the night, his pupils dilated so that very little remained of the green tinged irises. His mind, drunken and reeling with fear and shock, barely knew what to make of the information his senses provided - all he heard was the thunder falls of the horse's wild gallop, and the echoes that glanced off the city walls. With every sharp intake of breath the night air had little contact with his nostrils and throat, and yet a lingering chemical taste hung amongst the dead air in the back of his mouth, the very flavour of malevolence. He blinked every so often, his eyelids brushing away dry tears and for mere split seconds blocking out the world he had betrayed. But he had to look, had to watch, had to see through the darkness that veiled the world tonight. He rode his steed as a rookie, yet the pain caused by the thump of solid bone and sinew beneath his rear was insignificant. His mind reeled at what he had allowed. And he knew they would be after him.

Leaves barely turned in the horse’s wake, yet a low susurrus whispered through the night air. It was the sound of Zy’kan’s enemies, and his mind set about a silent plea.. ..oh lord of the heavens and border, help me for the very souls of the dead follow me, tracking my every footfall, and although I do not see them they hark at my every heartbeat.. A sickening lurch in his stomach, and the knowing of such dread made Zy’kan’s gorge rise inevitably. He had allowed the souls to break through the border in his absence, and who knew what had happened to his fellow guard? Upon his return he had encountered a soul of such abhorrence that he could feel it radiating within his own mind, and it had known him and recognised him with such certainty that it felt is if it were seeing into his very soul. And so he had hidden himself with his magicks and fled like the coward he was.. He felt sick to his very bones, and shivered within his magical shroud, though the night was not cold. The alley took another turn and suddenly the hoof falls were softened by the lush wet grass that spread out from the lower breaches of the city and out unto the countryside. The only sound that befell the cloaked rider’s ears now was the sound of his own harsh breathing, and it appeared with such startling profoundness and irregularity that it came of no relief, and heightened his fears. His tensed athletic calves caused his heels to dig into the stallion’s sides, and the horse sped for the last stretch away from the city, along a worn dirt path that weaved between the trees and down the sloped gradient of the hill.

A final burst of speed and then freedom from the overbearing trees and cramped alleyways. The steed stretched out it’s legs with a few sharp kicks and relieved jolts, bucking it’s lithe form over the fallen log at the end of the dirt trail and coming to land upon level ground. Zy’kan held onto his steed and managed to absorb most of the momentum through his rear(not a good thing) as the horse hit solid ground and instantly slowed to a soft canter to proceed through the calf high grasses of the meadow. Away from the cities, the streets, and finally past the last few lingering farms on the outskirts, Zy’kan was finally alone beside his softly nickering steed.

Lowering his hood, he uncovered himself of the shroud he had cast to reveal the long powder blue hair and slender figure he bore. The little moonlight that lit the late hours fell upon his skin and locks, and they shone ethereal against the earthy surroundings. A huge pair of wings suddenly shimmered into existence, yet this didn’t seem unnatural. Quite the opposite - the wings filled an empty gap that had previously existed around the young demal, like filling in a blank spot of a jigsaw. As he fell back into the image of the body that he utilised most regularly - the one that he thought of his own - his conscience slid back amongst the realms of reality, and his entire body twitched once more, a ripple of minor spasms that left a ghost of flickered expressions upon his beautiful face, and sent a ripple down the feathers of his wings and the hairs of his arms and back. It was the last lingering trace of his extended magicks for the night, and it flowed through him like electricity, passing on and disconnecting itself to lay dormant for the most part. And with his energy drained the young man suddenly slumped upon his perch of the ordinary nag beneath him.

Shoulders sunk, limbs limp and eyes closed with exhaustion, he slipped to the ground one foot after another, and then dropped listless to his knees, and then to his side, one wing spread beneath his right. No whimper escaped his lips as his tense riding muscles relaxed, and eventually his ragged breathing slowed and the thundering beat of his heart ceased against his ribs. As his conditions regulated themselves he slowly rolled onto his back, and finally lay so still his could have passed for dead - spread eagled upon the matted grasses of the meadow. His mind was blissfully empty, and so his body allowed itself to slowly revitalise itself. Zy’kan could’ve stayed like that forever.

Yet inevitably, after what seemed like eternities, he opened his eyes. It took a great deal of effort, and several more minutes for his eyes to readjust, so as the pinprick stars in the black sky canopy above swam slowly back into view his mind trudged to resurface from the fathoms. Zy lay feeling dazed and weightless on his back, his only anchor the heavy heart pressed to the ground beneath him. His eyes fixed upon the constellations, he thought about the stars closer to home.

Once upon a time I stared at the stars through the border, though Zy’kan, a whole glittering sea of them. And I thought about how beautiful they were, each individual starshine and stream and swirl of lost souls just floating out there in eternity.. They seemed so distant through there, lightyears away, and yet I could have reached out to brush them with my own wingtips.. And I was the thing that kept them there, that kept them a million miles away, that should have stopped them.. And now.. Zykan swallowed, feeling hot, salty tears brush past his obstructed throat with difficulty. I used to love looking at the night sky, the stars and souls waiting out past the gravity of this earth. But now it’s too close for comfort. I have ruined Telone, and its people; my father’s name disgraced along with the heritage with which he entrusted to me. If I am found I will be banished, my wings torn, or perhaps I will even be killed outright, and my soul will never even make it past the border..

But why did they come back..? Wondered Zy’kan, a feeling of discomfort prickling deep at the back of his mind. He stroked the dew crested grass with his bare fingers tips, and lay there in wonder and contemplation. If such a heaven is promised unto us for eternity, why would they wish to leave it..?

And Zykan knew he did not want to find out why. So it came down to either running away, or being shot like the dog he was by his own people. If he was to be named a coward and a fool and the downfall of his race, so be it. But he if he was that coward, he would certainly not righteously accept that. Hell, he’d already neglected one of his duties, why not neglect the honour of his own death? Zy’kan knew he’d be hard to find due to his abilities, perhaps he could set things right before then, or at least find a safe place to dwell whilst all of this blew over..

With a yawn, Zy hitched himself back upon the no-longer-stallion, and lolled away through the meadow, savouring the mellifluous honey-suckle scent of the moonlight struck air which hung crisp and heavy in his lungs. Perhaps there would be a way to redeem himself and salvage this world from evil yet..

[Crystal Tears]

Name- Lalymai Athemettln
Age- 21
Sex- Female
Race Demal
Appearance- She has long bangs that dangle beside her face and bring out her sea green eyes. She has a low tied braid that goes down until it reaches just below her buttocks. She also has two smaller braids that dangle in front of her chest. Her long braid is tied by a black ribbon that dangles about half the length of her braid.
She has a nice form, and lightly tanned skin. Many men think she is attractive, though, she doesn’t see it herself.
She wears a black shirt that appears to have sewed on black sleeves that make it into a t-shirt. At the end of those sleeves that are tied black a familiar black ridden that’s extra string length dangles aimlessly from both arms.
On her right shoulder is demonic like armour that like her shirt, as a hole cut out of it to create a place for her wings.
Her pants are comfortable, and slightly loose, as the dangle low on her hips but refuse to go any further. Tied just below the knee are ribbons that are bright red instead of black. Visible only because of her slightly bare stomach is spiral dementia tattoos. I rare art form, and usually represent a great warrior in hiding. These tattoos cover her entire chest, back, and stomach Areas.
Her wings are white, surprisingly, and they are Dove like; giving her the appearance of a rather evil looking angel. Though the tips of her wings are tinted in a red, are the red is splattered, giving the effect that they are covered in blood, which they aren’t.
Has a black ribbon tied around each wrist, and one around her neck.
Magic- Aeris has the abilities or magics of Telekenisis, Telepathy, and recently has started experiencing foresight. Her least favourite ability.
Personality- She’s out going, imaginative, and hates begin left out. Though she tends to act all quiet and shy, she really likes to have a good time. She also never backs down from a challenge, and has problem with getting herself into trouble. She can hold grudges, and she has a hateful, loathing side to her that makes her seem evil.
History- Not much is known, but she fled from the border due to her crazed parents. One of them she believed to be a Wrong Soul. But whatever happened, she refuses to speak of it. She now wanders, alone, not really sure what she’s searching for.
Other- She has two dual daggers which she stole from her family before leaving. Not much else is known about them. Her Dual daggers are actually strapped on just abover her elbows. Though hard to use, shes trained with them since she was little.

<3 Lalymai <3

“So you’re saying this is it then…” I began, my tongue almost becoming ensnarled in my mouth due to its overwhelming dryness which had been brought to me upon the horrible news. “Your saying, they’ve escaped…”

“We don’t know how…” My companion announced, bowing his head in shame, not wanting to give me such horrible news of events that had occurred.

“It doesn’t matter.” My own voice stinging my ears as such harshness was surrounding it. My eyes landed on the single Demal Outcast which had joined me. “I leave for a while, and the damned High Guardians can’t keep anything in check.”

My partner fell silent, not able to meet my gaze. I turned away from him, guilt overwhelming my harden soul for snapping at the young thing. But no matter, if he were to travel with me, then he must bare my temper. My gaze turned back to him, and in one last hopeful gaze, he held his breathe as I exhaled.

“You want to go home don’t you?” I asked, stretching my wings. I watched my friend nod, before returning his nervous gaze to the ground. I turned away from him. “Then go.”

“You… You mean it miss?”

“I have no wish to have a coward travel beside me…” I watched him wince at my truthful words. “Leave now, and make sure you don’t get yourself killed.”

Though hurt by my words, my companion smiled, and quickly made his way to and from our camp until he was fully packed and ready.

“T- Thank you miss.”

“Whatever.” I hissed, and turned away from him. I heard him whisper good bye, and before I knew it. I was alone. “Your welcome…” I murmured, and grabbed what little things I had.

Love isn’t meant for angels… They forget to feel, and soon enough, they vanish. For they are not mortal anymore, is heaven really paradise? Or a wicked trap for the souls wanting liberation? The final thought that crossed my mind as I travelled through the thick forest, not really sure of where I was going, I sighed. It had been a lot more fun with my friend around, to bad… He had to leave.

“LALYMAI!!!”

I was running, in the opposite direction of where I had been originally going, I sprinted, my heart pounding in my ear drums as I reached a clearing and flung my wings open. Catching so much momentum I was off the ground in mere seconds, and soaring over the dirt path to where I heard the scream come from.

My sights set upon a lifeless body lying to the side of the road. As quickly as I had soared into the cloudy, moist sky, I was descending, descending to a scene I hadn’t of wished to see.

It was my Companion. Lii, Is what I called him. He face which was usually full of like now had blood slowly oozing from his gapping mouth, and a blood pool was forming around his barely breathing body. I felt my legs buckle, and soon enough, I was kneeling beside my friend’s bloody body.

“Lii…” Was the only thing that hadn’t of been caught in my throat. “Wha… Who did this to you?” I had always heard of these sorts of scenes in stories, but never, never had I thought I would experience one. “Lii?”

Blood splattered onto my face as he fought to breathe and speak. I felt tears begin to pour down my cheeks as my eyes stayed locked to his. It was amazing, how as he was laying here, dying, he was able to finally lock his gaze on mine.

“Lalymai…” Lii whispered, reaching his hand up, and touching my forehead, I felt a weird sort of tingle, then it passed. “Laly…”

Silence…

I hated Silence… I sat there, rain beginning to pour down on my hunched over body. I was crying. My friends head resting on my lap as the cold rain beat down on our bodies. I had told him not to die, I had told him to run fast... Had he not understand? Why would anyone hurt him? He was only Lii, not even 20 years old, and here he was, dead, on the side of the road, his head resting in my lap.

Maybe that was my turning point….

I Want To be an Angel... So I won't have to care anymore...

---

[Fai D. Flowright]

The font this (and all further posts) is in is called Magik and can be DLed (free) at www.fontfreak.com

[color=#BB0000]Name: Kywin Sagatii
Wrong Soul Name: Cybil Faliston
Age: 17
Sex: Yes, please! ^_^; Female
Race: Falith-Rae
Appearance: Kywin is a rather attractive girl, with mid-back length auburn hair which is pulled back into a bun with the tips of her hair fanning out of the top. There are two long bangs that hang down in the front on each side of her face. Her eyes are a light indigo in color and always bright and full of energy. Her body is somewhat shapely, having merely pleasant curves, nothing extremely special. Her olive skin color, while normal in appearance, is actually a result of her tan skin and a hint of green from her Falith-Hai blood. Along with that blood, she has fused with a Red Lyrcoris (aka Spider Lily) and one of the flowers sits snugly behind her left ear (in also holds her left bang in place). She usually wears an ensemble of Persian/Arabian origin, with the main color being an intense ruby color and the border being maize. She wears a pair of ruby studs (pea-sized) with a golden teardrop that dangles from it. Cybil’s tattoo has taken home on Kywin’s right hip (slightly more to the back), just below her waistline. It takes the shape of the outline of a small phoenix, similar to this. (C&P)
Magic: Since Kywin’s appearance falls toward the Falith-Hai part of her blood, that can only mean her Magic source is related to the Rae genes. Besides her rather rudimentary illusion magic, she can also has a tendency towards the strength of the storm, using abilities with Electric, Air, and, more intensely, Water attributes. Only when all used together can her magic become devastating! (This is seen rarely, since it’s usually an anger issue and Kywin is rather positive)
Wrong Soul Power: With Cybil’s power, she is able to summon an extremely hot plasma-like material that she is at the mercy of her will. While it IS a devastating magic, the plasma is HIGHLY unstable, so control over it doesn’t last long before it disappears.
Personality: Kywin is an upbeat character with a fun sense of humor. Always seen with a smile on her face, she’s actually kind of naïve. She is one to make friends easily with others, even if they are complete opposites from her; a real people person. While yes, she is rather naïve, she can be intellectual, depending on the topic (this will be more conceivable later). Cybil, on the other hand, is quite sinister. Like Kywin, she smiles a lot, but not because she is happy... More likely she is planning something kind of plot to injure you, or, at least, scare you. But, since the two personalities are completely separate from each other, Cybil’s plans are usually foiled by the reappearance of Kywin’s NORMAL qualities.
Other: Wrong Soul, the two are completely individual, causing Kywin to seem as though she has multiple personalities.
Post Extract: As stated by Plantae, linking is a much more efficient way to do this.

[font=Magik][color=#FF3333]/Kywin Sagatii||Cybil Faliston\
[font=Magik][color=#FF3333]\Marrustil/

[font=Magik][color=#BB0000]“Oh! You know... For as long as I’ve lived in Marrustil, I’ve never been to the northern forests!” Kywin spoke aloud, as if there were someone walking right beside her. She quickly walked through the marsh town of Marrustil, home to the Rae race. A girl, just coming of age, made her way though the narrow walkways and swampy ground of the village.

”God... How did I get stuck with such a twit? Just keep going, would you?” The same girl spoke aloud again, but in a completely different tone; darker and more cynic, yet just as optimistic as before. She spoke like this, as if it were the most normal activity for any being to do, yet it was highly unnatural, causing many of the villagers to stare at her strangely.

The day was thinning as the sun slowly dipped below the horizon. A dark flash of light befell the house of Sagatii, home to a young woman living in the southern outskirts of Marrustil. Sated and tired from a large meal, she lay down to rest for the night. The darkness that flickered on the horizon for that single moment found its way to this small house and forcibly nested itself into the mind of Kywin Sagatii, causing her to feel the ominous presence of another, foreign energy in her body. Though her will was not strong enough to force the soul out of her consciousness, she WAS able to keep it separate from her own conscious...

“For the time you’ve been with me now, I still don’t think you’ve told me your name yet.” Kywin asked herself, suspicious of the alternate personality that recently invaded her inner self.

“If you just gave in, you wouldn’t have to care, now would you?”

“No, I suppose not, but then, I couldn’t just give up my body like that! Which means that you’ll have to deal with me.” Kywin smiled to herself. “So you might as well spill, since I’m guessing we’re gonna be stuck like this for a while.”

They continued to walk though town, silent now. No matter how hopeful they were, they knew that this was the truth; they were inseparable, at least until this invader’s motives were fulfilled. “Care to try your name again?” She begged herself and then scoffed back at it. “Please?”

“God! You’re such a whiner!” Kywin’s face began to scrunch into a scowl and suddenly shifted to a pair of puppy eyes, “Fine. It’s Cybil.”

“Oh! What a pretty name!” Kywin smiled, knowing that she just got a little closer to the guest in her body. “Soooo... Why are we headed....wherever we are headed?”

“Does it really matter?” Cybil muttered back.

“YES! It’s my body! I’d like to at least know where you are taking me!”

“Although I’d hate to admit it, I’ll give you that much.” While Cybil was foul in most aspects, she still had SOME respect for Kywin’s body. “During the evening that I possessed your body, I witnessed Torran Ylldier, the only man that knows the truth about the falling border-” She was rudely cut off by Kywin...

“WHAT!?! THE BORDER’S FALLEN!?!” Kywin shouted aloud in complete shock. Several townspeople turned to the startling statement as well, but before any more could be said, both Cybil and Kywin began to cover their outburst.

“Uhrr...umm...What she-, I mean, I mean is.....” Cybil trailed off in her sentence leaving Kywin to finish off what she had started.

“Yes...I meant.....the....molding is falling!?” Kywin pushed out unnaturally. She then covered her mistake my acting as if it was something she truly worried about. “Oh no..! I’ll....have to fix that when I get home! Yeah!”

The crowd quickly lost their attention on the topic. “Wow....You’re good, Kywin.” Cybil whispered to herself, yet highly sarcastically.

“Hey! I got us out of that mess! Now, go ahead and finish your story!” Kywin snapped back then smiled, waiting to hear the rest of Cybil’s plans.

“Right...Well, to preserve my presence, as well as the other escaped souls’ presence, in this world, Torran...MUST die...” Kywin was taken aback by Cybil’s comments again, but this time, it was in solemn silence. “We’re going to meet him, since he was heading this way.”

Kywin took control again as they approached the village borders. “Well.... I can’t say I quite agree with you.” She stopped walking. “I mean, it’s not right just to go and kill someone! Especially for a selfish reason like that!”

“Oh, come off it! Are you telling me you would kill someone if it mean you could live?” Cybil growled at Kywin about her comment. “And don’t tell me you wouldn’t because I know that even a twit like you would.”

Kywin was silent for a moment as she contemplated Cybil’s words. Would she really kill for self-preservation? I guess so, but it would depend on the situation. “I guess I won’t deny that fact that I would, but it would have to be one hell of a situation...”

“Well, whatever...” Cybil shrugged off the conversation. “Can we just continue?”

“Okay...”

Yes, yes.... I know, 90% of it is dialogue, but Kywin wouldn't be Cybil (and vice-versa) if there wasn't dialogue! Have fun! ^_^;

[Weasel Overlord]

~Torran Ylldier~
...You can’t run forever...

Great drops of rain plopped onto Torran’s sleeping eyes and into his nostrils. Waking with a start, he shook his head frantically, trying to dislodge the water but to no avail, as more soon soaked him again. Scowling, he glanced at Sulin, perched on a branch, with his head beneath a wing in his favourite sleeping position. Torran often remarked that Sulin looked like a little bird when he was sleeping. Sulin often remarked that Torran was a winged nuisance that should be exterminated with as much pain as possible, but they loved each other really, and such insults were easily forgotten.

Picking up a pebble, Torran took aim and lobbed it at Sulin, aiming for his rump, which he hit with precision.

“You. Were supposed to be on guard.” He grinned. The night’s rain had left him feeling damp and uncomfortable, but it showed signs of abating and for this he was glad.

Sulin stirred sleepily and rustled his wings in annoyance.

“What do you want?” He blinked out from under a sparkling wing. “I guarded for most of the night...I was tired.” Noticing Torran’s grin, he shook out his wings and flapped at him.
“We can’t run forever, you know?” He fluttered over and landed on Torran’s bare shoulder. Tweaking at his ear fondly, he began to preen himself.

“So what’s the plan for today? Looks like the rain’s stopped...finally.” Torran shook Sulin off and pulled his robe back over his shoulder. It was getting cold and he wanted to be moving again.

“We should keep on heading towards Marrustil. The last time I checked, it was South, and a touch East. So there you go. We continue to Marrustil, whatever good it may do...maybe we’d be safer with the Falith...”

“I doubt it somehow, although the Rae might be hostile, it’s still the lesser of two evils. There are many places to hide in the marshes of the Rae...” Sulin grimaced at the thought of spending any time at all in the marshes, but it couldn’t be helped.

“Sulin, if there’s anyone else about, I want you to use our link, ok? Something doesn’t seem right about us talking in the open....especially not now...” He trailed off, still unwilling to talk about what had happened. “Well!” An attempt to be cheerful... “We’d better keep moving, yes?” Sulin sniggered quietly and landed on Torran’s shoulder.

“Sure thing. To Marrustil.” Plodding out of the tiny shelter of trees, a slight breeze riffled the feathers on Torran’s wings. He stretched them out, enjoying the sensation as the wind rippled through, iridescence flashing when touched by sunlight.

“Fancy a flight?” Sulin nodded and took off towards the cloudless sky. Backing up, Torran ran, picking up speed, wings tilted back to avoid drag. Spreading them fully, he angled them to the flow of air and caught an updraft. Twisting sharply, he was airborne, and revelling in the sky.

This was where he truly felt at home. Free from the obligations of grounded people, he soared, keeping his eye on the ground, and his senses alert for updrafts. Stretching out, he glided further down, his eye falling on a lone person of undeterminable race, looking up and shading his eyes from the strengthening sun.

-Sulin! I’ve seen someone down there. Look!-
-Be careful...they may be following us, remember?-
-I’ll be careful, don’t worry. Those lessons from Reimax weren’t in vain.-
-Okay, but I’ll follow you down.-

Angling downwards, Torran glided to the ground and made an expert landing. Spreading his wings out behind him, he performed the traditional Demal bow; knees bent, arms and wings outstretched and head down. His hair draped around his face, leaving him anonymous for the minute. Looking up, he folded my wings back and held out his hand in what he believed was the traditional Old Human way of greeting. A look of confusion registered on the man’s face and after a moment, he copied Torran’s first bow rather clumsily, probably because of his lack of wings. Although Torran was sure he could see a faint aura of wings, floating out behind him, ethereal and wonderful. On a second look, he realised that there were none, although the man gave off the impression that this fact wouldn’t bother him.

Torran sized him up. Long coat, white hair bordering on silver, strange chains in his lips. He looked a bizarre character, although his aura wasn’t threatening in any way. Rather, it was a quiet green in colour, tinged with a darker green around the edges.

“Hello. I am Torran Ylldier...High Guar...Just Torran. And you are?”

[Emotional Faun Chiko-sai]

Had to change post colour so as not to be confused with Vulps' post. ^^;
------------------------
Erensuge/Ortze Elio's son
"The fallen are the virtuous among us"
-----------------------------

Erensuge tasted the power of the storm, and was content. In his day lightning was the incarnation of the thunder-snake, that arced and streaked across the sky, a force to be reckoned with; and so there was worship, of snakes, and of lightning. People had gloried in such storms as this, and not cowered from them, as the majority did now.

He had liked poisons even when he had been alive, generations ago. Then he had been a priest in a temple, one of many, and they had snakes in a pit, that they bred for their venom. Snakes that he spoke to and cared for and coaxed for the smallest drips of their precious poison. He could not now remember what manner of creature he was, but he was certain it was no creature even remotely resembling the Demal, with their flamboyant wings and rigid rules. It didn't matter now. Souls had no shape except the ones they took in the minds of their bodies, and as far as Erensuge was concerned about such things, he quite appreciated that Ortze had the cordiality to picture him as an azure serpent, coil upon coil upon coil, scales rustling, squeezing round his mindly heart.

In all other respects he hated the boy. It was not just the half-breed impudence in him that rankled. It was mainly the fact that the boy was still there, in his own body, and moreover had the potential to regain control over it at any time that he liked. It was a sort of condescension that the boy was showing him, unconsciously, that he allowed Erensuge to remain there, in his shell. And Erensuge hated it.

The feeling spread its insidious tendrils in him, and the serpent hissed always.

Well, he'd have to do something about that, wouldn't he? There was plenty of time to think. Already he could see that this mongrel boy had misgivings about himself that he would rather keep hidden than show to either side of his doting family. Not as good as his father was the least of them. Lots of things to work on, there. Especially since Erensuge had had the pleasure of meeting Tximistari senior a decade ago in a failed attempt to escape the Border.

(Elio Tximistari, with the hazy eyes of a dreamer and a smile like sunshine breaking through clouds, had been leading a sortie at the Border, on a golden afternoon twenty years ago, when Erensuge had broken through for the first time. He had struggled, futilely, against the intrusion of his mind. Erensuge knew that he could take over, knew that he could twist the Demal's soul out of his body quick as the lightning he reveled in, but Elio Tximistari had been quicker, and with a flick and a softsharp motion he had run himself through with his sword. To that man, who had realized that he could not fight the inevitable, the martyr's death had been infinitely preferable to the use of his body as a shield of deception. So Elio Tximistari died on that one golden afternoon, mourned by all he knew, and not least by his wife.)

Erensuge had had to wait twenty years for his turn, his chance at freedom, to come again. And when it did come, it came with the descendant of his failed attempt and the uncommonly strong-willed hybrid soul of the descendant of his failed attempt. If he hadn't understood the meaning of the phrase 'bitter irony' when he had been alive, he surely did now.

He was fairly certain that this one wouldn't try to kill himself. Self-sacrifice without sufficient reason was not paramount in his nature.

He felt the reassuring bulge of the hellebore round his neck, and relaxed a little as he picked his way through the flooded cobbles of the streets. Toxicity of any kind calmed him down and let him think rationally. Of course he would have to kill the boy's mother, or more importantly, his aunt, who was certifiably sane, and apparently a purveyor of fine poisons. And then there was the squealer Ylldier, whose current whereabouts were unknown, who had people going after him already. The Soul he had reached on this side (apparently, it had ousted the occupant soul of its Demal body without effort) had not known any details. He'd have to ask the snakes.

A short figure, almost completely colourless, bumped into him and immediately ran the other way in a fleeing, frightened gait, its ash-grey wings winking in the slight drizzle. Erensuge did not turn; street brats were a common sight in the sprawling mass of city called Telone. The rain had lightened up since fifteen minutes ago; the stormclouds were moving north. Erensuge in Ortze's body exited through the western gate towards the mountain path.

It would take them two weeks or more, but they were going home, to Tailen. Ortze, pacing round and round his mind, could not deny that he wanted to go home. He would just have to make sure that, once home, he did not commit matricide.

Or aunticide, for that matter.

Erensuge, in a secluded glen, hissed a single sibilant note, and the snakes came fast. A cobra with the gods' mark on its hood slithered up Ortze's arm, tame as a dog. Erensuge told it, in subtle nuances of its reptilian language, to keep an eye out for a dark-winged Demal with a little dragon, and report to me when I next come back this way. Tell all your brothers.

Ortze wrinkled his mindly nose, and reflected that he had never liked snakes.

Then they started down the road home.
----------------------------------
The post is strained because about halfway through I ran out of ideas, and my sister was grousing about how I should be studying instead of getting really intimate with the computer, so...
EDIT: I do not know how twenty years downsized to ten. ><

[Arnen]

*~:'Tali':~* [Location: Telone]

The soft pattering of little feet was muffled by the gently falling rain as the young girl scurried down the street, her expression blank as tiny fingers clutched at her pitiful garment, keeping it raised above the damp road. Suddenly, as if from nowhere, she collided with some obstruction in her path, and she looked up.

The figure towering over her (as anyone would, considering her small stature) was an imposing one indeed, with a pair of wings very different from her own. But as she looked up at the eyes of this figure, she began to feel badness coming from him. Letting out a small squeak of surprise and terror, she turned on her heel and fled, fear flashing in her luminous orbs. Her dampened hair flew out behind her betwixt her dusty wings with the speed of her flight, as she ran and ran and ran.

After some time, when she felt she could run no more and her frail lungs were about to give out, she stumbled, falling forward to land on her knees in a puddle. Her already sopping robe was further soaked as she scrambled to her feet, wincing as she looked down. Her legs were smeared with a small amount of blood, the result of scraped knees. Her little face screwed up in a frown as she bent down and grabbed a fistful of robe to wipe the wounds clean with.

Standing and putting on her emotionless mask once again, the girl continued her aimless wanderings through the streets of Telone.

[Crystal Tears]

<3 Lalymai <3

Wandering... I've never felt so useless in my life... My heart ached with the pain of my dead friend who I was forced to leave at the side of a dirt path in the middle of nowhere. My chest just seemed to feel ten times heavier then before, and my legs almost buckled.

He's dead... My thoughts ached in my pounding head as my eyes finally set upon the bustling town of Telone. My god... Of all the cruel things in the world... He's dead... I was practically dragging my heavy wings on the ground behind me as my eyes watched a small door open up to great me.

They said something... The guards did.... But, my current state, I haven't the energy to notice his futile greetings at I entered the grand's streets of Telone... Which in my sights weren't so grand.

A soft thump greeted me as my sights turned down to a young girl who looked terrified. Her eyes were a dull blue, and her wing's were a dusty sort of grey. Her torn, and lacking robes were soaked from the rain, which had been pouring down.

She stayed completely silent, and only a small amount of reddening colour infected her oddly paled cheeks. I raised an eyebrow, and then kneeled down to her level.

"Are you okay?"

She stayed silent, but shook her head. Pulling her small hands up to her face, she seemed to be hiding from something. Her eyes then widen, and she turned around and pointed in the direction of a rather unfriendly looking man who glared in our direction. I grimaced and looked down at her. She was obviously frightened by him, and I'd think its best to go on the little tyke's motive.

"Right..." I cringed and looked at her. "Can you fly?"

She blinked.

"Right..." I grabbed her, and in a massive fury, I flapped my wings and flew away with the added weight of a kid. Which, to say the least, was much heavier then I had planned.

Landing quietly on the edge of one of the walls, I looked around to make sure whoever that man had been had not fallowed us. Then I turned my attention back to the child.

"Whats your name?" I queried, stretching out one of my wings to stop further rain from beating down upon her.

[Arnen]

*~:'Tali':~* [Location: Telone]

Glassy spheres of pale light flickered upwards to this new face. The girl opened her mouth and gulped lightly, not knowing how to respond. The young woman before her stared at her expectantly as she shifted, twiddling with a dusty feather as she wracked her brain. Eventually, a small, timid voice escaped her pale lips.

"T.. Tali..."

The child's luminous orbs searched those of her companion as she bit her lip sheepishly. It had been so long since she had heard her own name, it was a miracle she remembered it. In fact, the sound of her own feeble voice astonished her; it had been ages since she'd spoken, even longer since she'd conversed with another being. She shifted again, turning her gaze to the ground so her hair would fall in front of her face, so she could hide.

[Weasel Overlord]

Okay, I have a list of the roles and positions avaliable to citizens of Telone that I really should have posted earlier...however, they should help to clear up any problems anyone has, and also to work as a handy reference for your posts! Underneath is a filler post that takes place in Telone...

High Guardian – Chosen out of the Scholars, they protect the Souls of the dead from Spiritual dangers, and they guide the newly dead to the Border, soothing them in their passing to the next life. The High Guardians have quite powerful magic, often being able so summon fire or manipulate the elements in order to make a weapon.
They are the most ritualistic of all the Demal through necessity to their job. The High Guardian leads all of the public ceremonies and once per day, at midday, they perform the Midday Rituals* in front of the citizens of Telone.
The High Guardian is seen as the leader of the Demal, and a lot of children aspire to being chosen to be a Scholar.
There is only one High Guardian at any one time.

Scholar – Scholars learn the ways of the High Guardian in order to one day become successor to the title. There are only five scholars at any one time, a new one being selected if one goes on to become High Guardian. They study the theory behind the Border and the Soul, and they learn to become proficient in matters of the mind and the spiritual realms.
The scholars meditate regularly in order to be deemed worthy of attaining a Spirit Guide. These come in the form of animals that are the closest to their Scholar’s personality, for example, a proud and witty Scholar would have an Eagle of some sort and so on.
In the case of the death of the High Guardian, the most suitable Scholar is chosen for accession to the role, although there is usually one proficient Scholar at all times, in case of an unprecedented death or, in Torran Ylldier’s case, disappearance.
If none have been prepared, then the most talented of the group is chosen, along with a more experienced Scholar to help and advise them in their new and difficult role.

Borderguard – Their job is to guard the Border from physical threats. They are subsequently trained in all manner of martial combat, choosing to specialise in an area after their training has been completed. There are only nine trained Borderguard at any one time and they are seen as the most elite fighters in Telone.
They Borderguard are also trained with their minds to sense the whole of the Border and to check it for cracks or escaping souls. (A quite recent problem)

City Hunter – As the name suggest, they hunt. This job is particularly important, as outside of the city is quite dangerous for an untrained Demal. The Hunters train with long range weapons such as longbows or spears to catch their prey more effectively.
They are masters of agility in the air and only the best flyers in Telone are chosen for the job.
They hunt large birds of prey that haunt the skies outside Telone, vicious boars, and a whole host of other animals to sustain the city. Crops are grown inside, on the outskirts of Telone and in fertile soil, so the Hunter’s job is to provide meat for the city.

City Guard – The City Guard as the militia of Telone, or the base fighters. Not usually disciplined enough to be Borderguard, the City Guard are trained with a motley selection of weapons that can be frightening to behold on a battlefield.
What they lack in discipline, however, they more than make up for in their enthusiasm for fighting. The best achieving the rank of Captain over each squad sectioned around Telone.
There is a squad of City Guard sectioned at each of Telone’s four gates, numbering around 1000 men or women** each, and it these to whom the defence of the city falls.

*The Midday Rituals are an important part of Demal society. All the citizens meet in the main square, at the steps of the Temple, and meditate after scarificing a bird of some sort. The bird is a symbol of the Demal's thanks for their flight. This mass meditation is often an odd sight to see for a non-Demal: thousands of seated figures, heads bowed and legs crossed.
Those who cannot get to the Rituals, meditate at home or wherever they are, in memory of the unity of this time.
**In Telone, females are just as equal as males, often obtaining the fighting roles with no thought for their gender.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chamber of the Scholars, Almost Midday, [Telone]

“Trixtram! I hope you’re ready!” The shout came from inside the central chamber of the Scholars home that lay just off the main Temple where the High Guardians resided. Trixtram was the chosen Scholar to succeed Torran Ylldier in taking up the mantle of High Guardian, although he wasn’t very happy about it.

Trixtram Alyarin did not think himself up to the expected standard, but, as his tutor complained, he was the most able student in the group, even if he was unbearably clumsy, a trait hardly befitting a training High Guardian.

Today was the busiest the Scholars chambers had ever been, with young Demal charging about everywhere, and older ones coming along to wring Trixtram’s hand and offer their congratulations. The preparations had to be finished by Midday, when Trixtram would don the ceremonial robes of the High Guardian and ascend to the role leader. He wouldn’t be without help, however. One of the Elders, Mayal Yii’alis, had been selected at Trixtram’s personal advisor, mainly because of his old age. Mayal had seen over 80 winters in Telone, and in that time just under 20 High Guardians had come and gone. He was viewed to have the experience needed to keep the young Scholar under control, and he still had a few years in him yet.

Up to the time of the ceremony, it was Mayal who kept all the artefacts of the position. He kept them safe until they were needed.

Meanwhile...

“I hate these robes...they’re so scratchy...” Trixtram almost wriggled away, but he was firmly stopped by his attendants.

“You must wear these robes, young master. Otherwise, how will the citizens know of your status?” He scowled and ceased his movements, although his displeasure was still evident from the darkness that came over his eyes and the way his mouth turned down like a recalcitrant child after a telling off.

“Now, I’m done with you. You can go along to your room and get some meditation in before the ceremony. Your mind will need preparation.” She lifted his chin and beamed into his face.
“Don’t worry love, you’ll be fine.” He scowled again, before rearranging his face into appropriate calm for a High Guardian.

“It’s okay mother, I shall be outside within the hour. With my new Spirit Guide...” He stepped off the wooden stool and meandered back to his circular room. This was going to be quite an experience, that was for sure.

[Plantae]

= Uuleuhuen =

It was a heartless, ironic laugh that rung across the sky as the very grains of soot that I was flowed effortlessly past the wrought iron bars of Telone's main gate. The portcullis was no aid to their despair, for a wrong soul of my nature, even if having already possessed Ahuk, I could still slip through all the little cracks. No, not like a grain of sand. I would slip through the fractures in the otherwise steady pavement of wall, gate, road or otherwise as sand.

My own life had passed too quickly, in the melancholy tune of the soft, iridescent "clink" of a grain in the hourglass of time. I had never imagined the other side as beautiful. I had scarcely tried to imagine what lay beyond the frigid, dull waters that were the arctic lake of death; in life, under a name long forgotten, I had made the largest effort to forestall the great void by any means necessary. What I had truly never imagined was the horror of sinking to the bottom of that lake, only to feel yourself swept into a deep, murky trench somewhere in a gray sea of gloom. There were no conversations among the dead, and initially I was glad. I had never been a skilled speaker or even conversationalist, so I did not miss it. I did not miss it until I discovered that there was little else to dwell on in a titanic, dreary veil of the pitch world past the border. There was never a relief from the relentless, vigorous tingling. It was not a physical pain, much less could a dead soul have one, but if we could feel a tangible force besides the ample emotional pain, it would be like the pinprick of a needle. It hardly hurt... it did not bleed... it did not penetrate deep like the sins of a former life could do to a man. It only served to mark the passage of time with stunning accuracy...

Itch... itch... itch... itch... It was the unmistakable idea that even the smallest pains would demoralize and destroy any ghost or living creature should they last for long enough. My servitude in the velvet less dream had lasted one hundred and seventy five years before there had been the nearly indecipherable ray of escape in a single, pockmarked, corner of a magical shield so vast that its pale, green glow was just another eyesore in the land of the lost. Where the true crack in the great Border of Telone was, I did not know. The infinitesimally minuscule one that I had seen, the cunning of a single wrong soul- myself- and a yearning for magic had allowed that one fluid caricature to slide, slide, gently down... and through!

In life I had always been effortlessly and near flawlessly methodical. Where your average Wrong Soul would see a Demal at exit, and jump for them like a particularly angry dragon upon a little, weak goblin that had disturbed or just touched its hoard, I had waited for a month in this rat hole of a city, before deciding that none of the specimens were to my liking. The few traders that came were not of the Rae, my own race in some distant world far away from here, a life and a time that is not proper to discuss; I had hoped that they would be.

After that agonizing month of maintain a spirit outside the Border, on a sleepless, mediation-less, waiting for any scholar or high guardian who might notice one of those from "the Eden on the other side" had fallen astray and lost themselves in labyrinth belly of Telone's criminal under dark. There were criminals, though they made quite a gamble by even being near the great Borderguard and the Scholars who stood like statuettes on the grainy, grotesque path that followed a victim from high in the clouds of nine to low, low, and beneath the shadow of an impenetrable... nearly impenetrable... husk of souls, which lies next a vomit beige magic that serves to sicken the soldiers of the arcane, the late and great magi of another age. When they discovered your presence, you were outcast, not sent back to the border. It was a hard-kept secret that those that left "paradise" and were then discovered anew would only find themselves non-existant... if they could find the parts of their agonizing existence in the least, at all even; there was no third chance, which almost revealed the idiocy of a second one originally.

And so, ah, but, then... Contrary to the held belief of any being that hath not perished, a soul does suffer a fatigue of sorts. It was thus that it took my ethereal corpse an age of toiling, floating, movement to reach Marrustil... bastion of Rae triumph and their warrior's prowess. It was said jokingly in my life that most Rae could properly pick a Demal out of the air (though always jokingly, as we had not tried to tempt their pride) with a single arrow, or even a javelin! It was true that I held certain alacrity to allow my own people a fairer justice than that of another contingent of life, but that was not my purpose to go Marrustil. I would not waste the hours, if I had not known exactly what it was my intention to do. I was the sort of will that could withhold all joy of being reunited with a body just to find the perfect host.

Every beast has a breaking point, but I had not reached my limits in patience when I had chosen Ahuk. He had appealed to me from the start, presenting an appearance even uncommon amongst the awkward and often eccentric tenants of the shaman city of marshes. He had his flaws, as was to be expected, and made perfection seem like almost too long to wait. He was not weak... just inexperienced, which had been the only reason that he could not repel me. I might have spared him for an iron-fisted man of sin, but that became a moot point when his magic became evident. I had never the power of illusion as a Rae, and its complexity and deception amused to me to a fitful, cruel end.

I could imagine the process of my funneling myself into the Oyohk child was no less wearying than the conglomerating sorrows of a two hundred and forty-two year old man; the man I was had languished in that pit for no damn good reason. Even a man of the fiercest morals, the best intentions, and the purest heart would die in a blind rage of faithless fury when he passed through the smoke and never found his way out, choking and wheezing, and suffocating without suffocation. His family mourned around him, which thankfully consisted of a single sister and a nearly uncaring aunt. I would have almost been heartbroken without my life’s makeup of tragedy hearing the girl's elegy, a fitful blessing and hex in the oldest of Rae languages, a piece that was seldom performed by even the most talented of Rae entertainers. The "Yeulunuaen" it was called, a composition of such magnitude and strength requiring that it was woven with the suggestive myth that it had been made by an insane man who had given his own emotion to play a distinct pan flute tune on a minute harping lute of an instrument, created with wood, and glossed with a mixture containing the blood from an innocent child, and the powdered ribcage of a nymph killed, a creature arisen from a nocturnal flower with a bloom of midnight, velvety petals and leaves of their own melancholy; this flower was said to appear once in a century, and sighting the nymph who was said to occupy it was atrociously difficult. It was an ample mystery to allow questioning of the truth of such a claim, but the sister's lullaby and that memory of such a dawn mourning could have seduced the second most scintillating of all sirens. Ah, yes, second most- had it been the first, such pure emotion might have threatened to dislodge my presence.

After months of "back-breaking" work, a day went by slower than I could have guessed. My very anticipation threatened ejection from the body which I had procured. Then, when Ahuk was placed on that funeral pyre, I had my merry jig as a pile of ash. At dusk that day, my flaked caricature blew away with the leaves and the journey back to this city had begun... for one purpose.

"Uuleuhuen! Awaken yourself. I bet I appear some sort of dullard, standing in an alley behind the barracks just inside the city gates of Telone. My dejected face looks no less grotesque when you twist it from smirk, to frown, to smirk."

- I am sorry. I will allow you your peace. Wander the city, and tread carefully. My presence shall return at midday.

=

The bright orange of the afternoon sun had risen gently in the last ten minutes, just a crescent higher but noticeable enough to the trained eye of a two hundred and forty year old. They said the senses dulled with age, but I believed differently. There was a certain point where they leveled off, and then another where they slowly made themselves even more keen.

I focused gently on the crowd that gathered the palisade in the town square, flanking the fountain in all in their desperation to reach the steps of the temple. It was a pride that made them ascend by rank, the new High Guardian to be presented at the very top. It was here that a pedestal stood, and that the keeper of the artifacts, Mayal Yii’alis of the elders, observed the gathering gaggle with a look of nondescript wrinkles. It was most all that was visible within his face, and I almost rejoiced that I had never grown to the age to see myself like that. Almost...

A foreigner would be vastly uncomfortable and unwelcome, the guards and borderguard taking notice of any who attempted to intrude upon the sacred rites that were to occur here. They held their heads high when it came to all aspects of culture, even when holding your head the highest truly meant bowing the very, very lowest. The desire in me to fly had long since subsided, so I no longer knew the small subconscious envy that had been so regular when I had strolled amongst these avians. Nor could I hardly despise them for their actions in erecting the border, as the very purpose had devolved into tradition and obscurity. None of them knew the olden days and the few who had still held the secret... the reason the great, the only great, first High Guardians had constructed its magnificence; the magnificence of it bred such a curious and ironic hatred when viewed from another perspective. No, there was little emotion left, merely a stoic concentration. I was diligent now. It was important to be careful.

It was lucky that I had a brief period to rest with Ahuk's retaking of his body, or I might have not been so able to pull this off. I owed it to her, I knew, from the previous life. I had promised her a favor, and it was my wish that she should be repayed.

A herbalist paused as she exited the stone threshold that gave a sort of precipice oriented interest to her own humble abode, carrying the ritual incense that looked less than "blessed" at this moment. As was the routine, she would stop briefly at the foot of the stairs to pray and mumble a small incantation of her forefathers gently. I lifted a single, saliva-laden finger and tested the wind. North, entirely as expected; my path would lead me straight to her.

I had grown used to the prickling oddity of transmogrification into dust, and the incorporeal existence that followed it. It had always been my greatest inconvenience that I could only move in that form when I was moved, or when the wind allowed it. My intuition had proven correct for once, when it had failed so many times before. Here, then, hidden and dissolving rapidly, I mused on the timing. It was not my luck, and I knew it. There would be a due owed later for such resistance against a natural order of things, my "hex-like" status being one of them. In youth, I thought I might have had a penchant for trouble. Now, I was a withered assassin who was barely motivated by any whim. But regardless of such jinxes and superstitious claims, my form settled carefully into the loll of wind. I watched the mud colored pot, full of soot colored incense, draw closer at hand by the second. With no sense of celerity, its texture and pattern of diamonds grew in clarity. Then, I had reached the lid and was just able to slip through the crack between pot and pot top. It was no easy feat, even in the closest color resembling the soot as I could manage, and with the smallest of particles.

It was no sooner that I reached my vantage and gotten as comfortable as was possible when a piece of "worthless" after shavings that a roar overtook the air. The rituals started, song pervading my ears, the husky dominance of the male and the flitting power of the female. It had begun. I made every effort to ignore it all, so no more knowledge than I had known pervaded my senses except that the incense smelled vaguely of dung. I kept myself beyond such bodily and feral notions. It came closer with each dying second, each falling moment... and then finally. The pot was picked up, and moved carefully and fluidly up a step at a time. The suspense was uncharacterized, the stepping hardly keeping a beat, and the clop of stone echoing only once every so often. It was no melody and I was no audience nor critic nor entertainer. The only spoken whisper in the wind was a somber one. I took the moment to test the link, my channel with Mara, and then lie tensely for my prey.

The pot was set down, and Mayal spoke the words of initiation past the lid. It opened, and he put in a wilting appendage, which was snarled up in the cloud of incense that rose into his eyes and mouth with a splutter and a wheeze. I went into his ears and nose, him still holding the periapt to be gifted to the new High Guardian. I choked him, and whispered a single sentence in his eardrum. "It is the natural order."

And then he fell as I materialized in full Rae form. He tumbled like a rag doll down the stairs, rolling again in his blood and vomit as he received trauma to all parts of his mind and body with each successive thud. I could tell that he was not dead, not on the tenth step from the bottom even, but he clenched his eyes and his teeth chattered with lachrymose. It seemed a torturous way to go into the void, but he would only become another of the wrong. Even this pain could not teach anyone to stay put past that wicked wall. He ached, in every part of his body, and the final magic in his bones caused him to rise to his knees with an effort. The people stared at the feeble man, hardly looking further than the shattered skin and bones and white hair blooded and dirtied with incense, dust, dirt, and soot. He pooled in his filth, and raised one final hand in a gesture of utmost discord to the sky. Then, for I could only see the back of his head now, he collapsed with the momentum of a dying people. His skull against the pavement made an ominous "crack!" More blood pooled, and faces terrified looked up at me.

There were ropes holding the great burgundy curtains that shrouded the entrance of the temple, and bidding for Ahuk's magic, I grabbed them and strangled the four scholars standing behind the almost-high guardian. They met their deaths less terribly, but their faces contorted red. They were not incompetent and fought with incantations, and I felt a wicked slash cross my chest and blood drip. However, they were exhausted and defeated and their rosy corpses dropped like stones.

The single scholar remaining, the to-be High Guardian, quivered in fear as I tossed the Periapt of Wisdom given to his station from hand to hand almost carelessly. The casual observer would have seen me and found me terrifying, likely, but one that looked closer would have noticed the fire in my eyes as I gripped the amulet so hard with the last catch that my palm was scratched and seeped dirtied yellow and crimson.

I sensed the Borderguard ascending the stairs after checking the old man, knowing such was fruitless. I heaved with the muscle in me and pushed the scholar in front of me to the ground. They would be up the stairs in seconds, but my target was now just behind the scholar. I stepped over him, and he may have shivered.

A black-haired woman of about twenty was behind the High Guardian, and was probably the most dignified female of her station. She appeared an apprentice, but her eyes struggled to suppress her rebellion. She would have moved, if she had thought she had any chance. Her fair skin and eyes that furled and unfurled forever and ever onward snared me. This was Mara's. With a miraculous display of Iugk, I unsheathed my Kukri and made a pinprick of a cut on her bare face. The scar burned her, and a tear fell as she felt her flawless complexion marred. I pressed my palm there, and with the Periapt's power, called past the Border.

"Mara! Your favor is payed! Awaken and take this youngling for your own, to join the others as a Wrong Soul! Cast her soul to oblivion, Mara, and reclaim your life!"

The very soul of my rival throughout my days, characterized by the few times we caught ourselves saving one another. That had not been a time of charity any more than this, so I had owed her a favor. Now, it was repaid. I felt her energy, siphoned from the land beyond, flow through the periapt and my palm and travel across the channels of blood right into the girl. She convulsed terribly, and I turned away as seizure overtook her. I knew, however, without a doubt, that she was Mara's. Mara with her effortless grace...

I spun with furioso and used my forte, the power over dust, to throw a cloud into the oncoming Borderguard. Their will fought the magic, but the natural nature of it could only beat them and they stopped to choke. I could not have killed their bodies, but their minds were rent with suffering and pain as they wheezed and hacked. They were not feeble, and would not give into death as the man had (he being an effort), but would be to their feet in minutes. However, by that time I would be gone and Mara would have to make her own exit. Favors only go so far. I had done injustice to pay back with "interest," as inserting her into a body was.

With the swift movement of a hand, I lifted the scholar at my feet and walked to the pedestal at the very head of the stair's ending. Here, watching the regular guards and nearly ensorcelled-by-shock common Demal, I tightened my grip and began to speak.

"This is your chosen." The tone was gravelly and full of lustrous gloom, giving the effect of shuddering to the lesser man. "A High Guardian not fit to wear this amulet that I now hold. Your artifact is stolen. Your honor is broken. Your society is of ominous decline." The crowd could not stand to realize how a Rae had been possessed to do the ugly deeds before them, and with that I smirked with more than delight. There was a certain hidden sadness in it. Realizing their ignorance, I began an elaboration.

"Oh, what an ode shall be composed when you have the revelation of magnitude that I reveal. Your great city, with its shining gates and Borderguard has fallen already. Soon, the damned will pour through the fractures in your skin and crawl like maggots through your flesh. I do not speak with such vulgarities and disgusting inflection without reason. It is the truth of the matter that this is exactly how it will feel to you. Citizenship of Telone, you would do well to flee. I do not represent my brethren. My goals are not the same as their own. I do not seek the destruction of your pleasant earth or to have your children running amuck with demon eyes and devil fire. But know this, not all of us are so kind, and there are already serpents with avid poison in your midst. Your elders, the vipers, have lied to you. They have not only lied about their inefficiency in such delicate affairs as that of keeping the gate of the grave closed, but have not even told you the truth of death. I bid you an ironic good luck, as the lightning flashes, and the monsoons come to swallow you up. Fly, fly, avians. There is no mercy left to you... on the grounded land. Spread both of these: the border has fallen, let it be known. Then, tell them, tell them all, that there is no Heaven."

With that final, ringing phrase, I threw up a cloud; the man was tossed down the stairs in the wake of magic. I grappled with the still twitching Mara, snatching her up; with a sigh of all agony, and a fleeting glance, I ran with her in tow.

=====

[EVme15]

I had so much to write and the post just kinda ended up growing... ^^; please excuse if this shows traces of 3AM-ness...
~|~|~|~|~
Tevam Ryllena
- Zenzir Maeniy -

I followed Nattye through the rainy street. I had an idea of where we were going, but still I stayed a few paces behind her. She hurried along, eager to get out of the water that splashed on our heads. Eventually she realized that I was in no hurry, and slowed. At first I thought it was to make sure she didn’t run ahead, but she soon spoke, her voice still soft and yet still audible over the rain.

“Tevam... I’m worried about you. You’ve been acting differently since mother... died. I think you might not be over it...”

At this point she turned to me, but I kept my face blank. “I am fine.”

“You say that, but... I don’t believe you. You’re different, somehow. I know she had said some hateful things towards you, but... I don’t want you to be blaming yourself for what happened.”

“I don’t. I am fine, you do not have to worry.”

Beneath the exterior of the body I possessed, I smirked slightly.

“YOU ARE NOT MY SON!”

I stepped backwards as the woman lashed out at me again, and a guard quickly moved between us. “I’m sorry, Sazamn, but until you can give us any proof, we cannot believe your claims.”

“Look at him! JUST LOOK AT HIM!” She rushed forwards, restrained just in time. “Can’t you see it?! Can’t you see that’s not him?!”

“Mother, please cease this foolishness...”

“Tevam’s right, mother... You’re talking nonsense... stop it please...”

Nattye stepped forward, but Sazamn quickly pushed her away. “You’re siding with him! You can’t see him for what he is! THAT’S NOT TEVAM!”

“Mother... Tevam...”

I turned, walking out of the room. Behind me, the hysterical cries rang from the room. “DON’T CALL THAT THING TEVAM!”

The door slid shut behind me. “I’m not Tevam, eh...? She’ll have to be dealt with, then...”

“They might be mad at you. You have missed several Midday Rituals recently.”

“I am aware of that. That is no crime.”

“But you weren’t meditating.”

I had to control myself to not lash out at her, pulling from her how she knew that information. “There were other matters to deal with.”

“Tevam, do you know what you’re saying? It’s the Midday Ritual.”

It was a few days later when I found my chance. Nattye had invited me to come with her to try to talk some sense into Sazamn, who was being held under suspicions of insanity. For my “sister”, it was our last chance to free her. For me, it was a perfect opportunity.

“No, it’s alright... I’ll be careful... and I don’t mind if she tries to hurt me. It might help bring her back if she sees that I can feel pain...” The guard reluctantly handed me a key, stepping aside so I could walk down the hallway. “I won’t be blamed for anything that happens in there...”

Sazamn’s room was down the passage, a left turn, second door on the right. Approaching, I heard sobs softly echoing out. I waited a few moments, readying myself, before inserting the key. I didn’t like to kill, but remaining undetected was crucial to my survival at the moment.

A shriek instantly rang out as I stepped into the room. I shut the door behind me, locking it, then thinking better of it and unlocking it again. A locked door would be suspicious. “STAY AWAY FROM ME! STOP PRETENDING TO BE MY SON!”

Safely within the room, almost all sound muffled to the outside, I dropped all pretext. “There is no need to shout. We can act like civilized creatures, can’t we? Hello, my name is Zenzir.”

I watched as she froze, and then slowly backed away. “I knew it... You’re not Tevam... They called me crazy... I knew you weren’t Tevam...”

“Yes. Now, if you would be so kind, indulge me as to how you knew.”

I reached behind me, taking out an object wrapped in cloth concealed beneath my clothing. I carefully unwrapped it, slowly revealing to her the sharpened metal. It was rough, battered slightly, looking as if it was made sharp by stone. I held it up; making sure the blade was in the female’s full view. She swallowed thickly.

“Please don’t kill me... I beg of you, please spare me...”

“How did you know I was not Tevam?”

“I could see it... You’re darker... darker than Tevam was... I saw the change in color, and the change in you... and that’s how I knew... please don’t hurt me I’m begging you...”

But even as she spoke the last words the weapon raced forward, encouraged by the power I had taken from Tevam, burying the blade into her heart. She screamed, hand grasping at the metal, trying to pull it out. I quickly raced over, grabbing her wrist and pushing the weapon further in. “I really would rather not kill you; it’s such a shame things had to worked out this way. Enjoy the hell that lies beyond the Border.”

Her rage quickly returned to her as her blood seeped to the floor. “YOU! IT’S ALL BECAUSE OF YOU!”

Behind us the door swung open, Nattye appearing, a horrified look on her face. Instantly my strength was directed the other way, pulling Sazamn’s arm away, dislodging the blade from her chest. I turned around to the newcomer. “Sister, help! Mother... Mother has...!”

“DON’T PLAY INNOCENT! IT’S BECAUSE OF YOU THAT I’M SUFFERING THIS FATE! YOU SHOULD NEVER HAVE COME HERE! IF YOU HADN’T... If you hadn’t...! If you...” She collapsed against me.

Nattye ran over, pulling the limp figure from my arms. She quickly checked the heart, but alas it had already stopped beating. “No-! Mother! You...! Why...? Why did she kill herself...? Did she really go crazy...? Tevam... But we tried to...”

In the end, it was marked down as suicide.

“While we are aware that previously we had told you that you were high on the list of applicants for becoming a scholar...” the male turned to me briefly before looking away again, “now that it has become time to choose another, we have reevaluated our decision. Because of some of the recent events that have taken place involving you, we have decided to drop you from the list of potential scholars.”

“It’s about mother?” Our eyes met. He was unable to keep eye contact, however, and broke away first. “Please do not misunderstand. We accept her... final decision as proof of her mental instability. We just feel that the emotional strain you must have been subject to after experiencing an event such as that would do nothing but hamper you should you pursue a path to becoming the High Guardian.”

“... I see.”

After a moment of silence, I made a small bow and left the room. Nattye waited outside for me. “Well?”

“They decided to deny my request to become a scholar.”

A female strode past me, into the room and shutting the door. She had apparently been waiting for us to finish up. Curious, I leaned against the door, listening to what was being said. It was about the old High Guardian. Torran Ylldier. Him.

“Tevam, what are you do-?!” I quickly pulled her close, covering her mouth, starting a steady count on the fingers of my free hand. One...

“We have reason to believe that he has fled to the south, but of course” ... four... “this has not been confirmed. The report came from a returning Hunter who said he saw someone matching the des-” ... eight... “-cription of Torran Y-” ... nine.

With a soft sigh from me, the dialogue began to run in reverse. I waited another nine seconds, before I felt my body release its hold. Nattye stood back up in a rather awkward fashion, facing me with an annoyed expression across her face.

“Tevam, what are you doing?!”

“Nothing, sister. I am going to go home now.”

This could prove useful information.

~|~|~|~|~

Soon following was the day of the ceremony. I had expected nothing any more grandiose than any other ritual of the Demal, reflecting that before I died, though I could not remember it well enough to distinguish, I was almost definitely not one of these creatures. I had learned how to act in these sorts of situations; I had observed long enough before ousting Tevam. And now I stood in the crowd, secretly ecstatic that I had chosen the body of a creature that held his emotions in check almost all the time. A lot less to pretend.

Imagine my surprise at the Rae that showed up.

For one who had no idea of the escape of the souls from the Border, a Demal who had stayed cut off in this city their entire life, this being from the outside must have seemed like an extraordinary creature. But experience, the knowledge I possessed instinctually, not remembered but still there, said otherwise. There were too many magics at work here for this to be a normal Rae. And, however strange it felt, the connection that bonded all the souls from beyond the Border was definitely there.

I fled the town square, not being the only one to do so. But my intent was not that like the others. Unlike the guards, I was not preoccupied with any saving or capturing. I only needed to meet up with this soul. And if he was causing this much of a ruckus, he’d need to flee somehow. I hoped I chose the right direction.

Words echoed to my ears, words which could not come from one who had not been beyond the Border. I picked up the pace, daring not to fly for fear of being spotted. And being spotted at a time such as this one was as good as being found out.

Suddenly there was the sound of footsteps and heavy breathing. I turned, almost surprised at my intuition. Or maybe it was something else that had led me to his escape route. In any case I sped up again, easily matching pace with the tired Rae as he struggled with the woman he was carrying along.

“You know, pulling things like that are a wonderful way to get yourself killed.”

[Emotional Faun Chiko-sai]

Weasel said we could do our own filler posts, if we wanted to. ^^;;

(Filler-that-I-shall-call-slight-plot-advancement: Mari Eguzki-Lorea of the Falith-Hai)
(Tailen, elder's quarters)

"You are telling me that the Border has fallen?!" Eguzki-Lorea's eyes, blue and indignant, threatened to pop out of their sockets. The elder was a bent old Falith that was not given to surprise: to see him surprised was, generally, the sole prerogrative of his daughters, and of his late wife, whose presence he still missed of nights.

Dark Mari nodded slightly, her expression unreadable as always. The tone of her skin suggested zombies in her ancestry; it was tinged with grey-green, not the fresh green of the Falith in general, but the green that you saw in cemeteries, growing on tombstones. A dark kind of beauty. Quite the opposite of her only nephew, who nonetheless shared the same dark eyes as her; they were full of secrets. Rusalka, attentive and pliant, nestled on her bosom. It was not yet the time for blooming. "That is what I was given to understand by Ilargia."

"My poor daughter... You do realise that she is not sane?" Eguzki-Lorea smiled, a bright brittle smile. The smile suggested many things, among which the question "You're completely sure you haven't gone insane yourself, aren't you?" was paramount. Eguzki-Lorea had always been a diplomat first and a family man later. He could not be expected to understand. At any rate, he was wary of Mari. She was as hard to fathom as her sisters were easy. He was probably extremely lucky that Mari had not brought this preposterous notion up during Council, and instead had decided to seek him in the privacy of his chambers.

[Steady, steady,] said Kupalo the laurel, fused along his back, branches shading his eyes.

"No, she is not. But the mad have ways of seeing things which we, who call ourselves sane, do not. And," there was a slight pause, as if Mari was not sure how to put it, "she says Ortze is involved." Ortze was very definitely involved. That much Mari was sure of. Ilargia only made fusses when Ortze was in danger, or when Ortze was unhappy, or when Ortze had no time to reply her letters. There was no way that Ortze was not involved, in a fuss of this magnitude. Mari still had the scratches on one dark cheek.

"It is not likely that the Demal, who have had an age and more in their experience of guarding the Border, would have let it fall this easily. Ortze is held tightly by the proverbial leash by the Tximistari, who are, between you and me, a body of fine Demal culture and breeding, but sadly lacking in imagination and heart. And there have been no messengers. Ilargia is dreaming, as she always is. I cannot declare an immediate emergency with the mere implication that my eldest daughter, *incidentally insane*, has had a bad dream that the Border is gone. Perhaps we might continue this discussion later...?" said Eguzki-Lorea the diplomat. And then, because he was not truly a cruel man, he added: "I will send a missive to Telone to confirm this rumour, if you wish."

"There is no need," replied Mari, bobbing a curtsey. "I believe that the messengers, if there were any, are in grave danger at the moment." And I have already taken the liberty, father. I hope that our Ortze is strong. "Thank you for your kind attention."

She exited the room, lace skirts rustling. Eguzki-Lorea slumped further onto the grass mat he had been sitting on. He hadn't realised he had been sweating.

[Weasel Overlord]

A Torran post will be the next one to come, I can promise. And there will be more character interactions contained within it, so if you're feeling left out, no worries!

Name: Rhee’ualheu Mara Deiis’alu (Rhee’ualheu is Mara’s title, and it means ‘shapeshifter’ in the ancient Lalli’huem tongue.)
Age: 895
Gender: Female
Race: Lalli’huem
Appearance: Her occupied body is that of a female Demal scholar. Her wings are long and slender, similar to those of a seabird, but the feathers are more defined. Her feathers are an intricate colour of darkest green tinged with pitch black and edged with blue.
Her hair is long, wavy and as dark as her wings, but her eyes are a hazel so pale it is almost no colour at all. Mara thinks this body is hideous, and she longs for her old flesh, using her illusory powers to alter this body slightly, so that it resembles her old self.
Mara: Back when she was alive, Mara was tall, around 6 feet in our measurements, and she towered over most of the female Lalli’huem. Her wings were a magnificent green, poisonous yet alluring at the same time, their sails dotted with flecks of silver. Her slender bones highlighted the frame of her wings delicately, yet she could fly for hours on the thermals, gliding when her muscles became tired.
At the tip of each wing, there was a tiny but sharp claw, filed with deadly poison that could kill with a touch. Although this spoiled the kill and poisoned the blood, so she reserved her claws for only the most hated enemies.
Mara’s hair was long, reaching to the back of her calves, and it was pitch black with a lustrous dark green shimmer. Her hair was so fine, that when she flew it streamed out behind her like a pennant in the wind, further enhancing her harpy-like beauty.
With eyes as dark as her hair, Mara was a coveted female in Lalli’huem society where dark eyes were valued for their owners heightened magical powers. Although this was superstition, it was such deep belief that it became true, with all the most powerful sorcerers and magic practitioners having eyes as dark as pitch.
Magic: Mara’s magic was, and still is potent. She can change her appearance at a whim, but this is only the start of her powers, their illusionary qualities still alive in Demal society today.
In her most heightened state, Mara can sense her opponent’s movement, even before they make it, although this is only another branch of illusory magic. Her true power lies in her blood. Mara can speed up the healing and rebirth of her cells so as to heal wounds in an astonishing time. If she encounters a blood-sucking enemy, she can release poison into her bloodstream that kills the predator in an instant. Her ultimate power, however, is only apparent when she is feeding, or performing her rituals. Upon smearing the blood of a kill over her face, hands and torso, Mara imbibes all of the dead’s powers as their blood mingles with hers. Even after her frenzied killings, an essence of their powers still live on in her bloodstream, with wild results. On occasion, they rise to the surface, and Mara will take on some of a previous kill’s physical traits and mental powers, and in her society, she was known as Rhee’ualheu, or ‘shapeshifter’ because of this ability.
Personality: Mara is utterly entranced by blood, and by the killings of the Lalli’huem. Not only is blood a vital part of her magic, it was a vital part of Lalli’huem society too, and even now she cannot shake off that fascination and the frenzy that comes over her after a kill.
She is sadistic with her prey, often hunting them for days, taunting them, before finally catching them easily and using their blood for her own means.
Her captivity beyond the Border has left her mind as sharp as ever, although she has a touch of madness in her eye that can only be sated by blood. She is a dangerous person to cross, and despite her new Demal disguise she is all Lalli’huem, bloodthirsty and vicious she enjoys her ceremonies with a pleasure that is almost perverse.
History: TBR
Other: Mara is quite obviously a Wrong Soul, and the name of the body she inhabits was lost when she wrenched its flesh for her own.

---------------------------------------------------------------

~Rhee’ualheu Mara Deiis’alu, Wrong Soul~

Oh, it felt good to be free again! The exultation of having flesh once more overcame me and I went through a momentary lapse of judgement, allowing myself to be pulled away by Uuleuhuen. I could tell it was him. His scent was the same as beyond the Border, although there wasn’t much to differentiate between us all; the sharp tang of fear was there, insipid and all-encompassing. However, each soul had a different taste…only I could taste these scents, no other seemed to possess this knowledge. Uuleuhuen tasted of dust now, as before, with a hint of passion that belied his mannerisms.

As we tumbled through the dull streets of the city, I realised where I was…Telone! What luck! To find myself with a body once again, and not only that, but in my home city too. Although I had never belonged in life, Uuleuhuen had given me the greatest gift of all. He had made me Demal in appearance, although inside still lived the remains of my great heritage. Before my death, I was no known race. Possibly even older than Uuleuhuen’s race, I belonged to the Lalli’huem, as like the Demal as they could be, apart from one difference; Lalli’huem had no feathers in their wings. Instead they were made of fine, almost leathery material stretched over hollow and slender bones. Similar to those of a bat, and more similar to those of the legendary Dragons of old.

The other tell-tale sign of the Lalli’huem was their hatred. Some named us ‘demons’, and it is true, we acted as our namesakes did. Evil comes in many forms, not all ugly and telling. In out case, we came with trickery similar to that of the Demal; only we had the grace not to disguise it as magic. No, our power was innate, no learning was needed. Every Lalli’huem child was born with the ability, the ability to seduce any being to their will. The ability to kill swiftly and with pleasure.

Ah yes, the killings. I could still taste the blood spilled in our rituals, ten times more splendid than the pale things of the Demal.

The carcass was torn to shreds on an altar, only bones remained as a memento of the sacrifices, nay, killings, performed by the Lalli’huem. After the rituals, they would smear the blood over their bodies in a parody of worship, tasting the blood with pleasure. They bore some similarities to the vampires of legend, although the Lalli’huem were more bloodthirsty, killing for the sheer pleasure of it, rather than to satisfy a blood-craving. There fierce rituals took place over a seven-day span, once a season, with all taking part. Even the tiniest child had a place in the ceremony.

There has been no evidence of surviving Lalli’huem for over a hundred decades. The extinction of this race was a blessing for most and especially the Demal, who viewed the Lalli’huem as feral cousins, only related to them by flight. In fact, the Demal were more closely related to the Lalli’huem than they thought, Demal being a perversion of evolution from the very root of their genetics. Both races were linked by their similarities, the only pair to have the power of flight. Although other winged races were in existence, the wings were soon eradicated out of an evolutionary need for speed in the wild forests of their dwellings…

The teachings of a historian from beyond the Border…Yiu had always amused me with his theories on my race, not only with his imagination, but his accuracy. Anyone would have thought that he was Lalli’huem, the way he described us.

And now, here I was, my powers of flight intact, even if my wings weren’t restored to their former glory…although that could be changed if my powers still lived inside me.

Uuleuhuen dragged me behind him, not stopping. After his speech, which I had been too dazed to take in, he had fled the Temple square as if he was ashamed of his actions, and it was true I could smell fear on him as we ran. I wondered where he was taking us, but resigned myself to contemplation until we stopped for a breather.

[Plantae]

[color=#bdb76b]= Uuleuhuen =

“You know, pulling things like that are a wonderful way to get yourself killed.” Mara was obviously irritated, and in that moment I let go of her arm.

"Run yourself then, as it was a necessary evil," I countered, but thankful, as I was getting tired. My magic was nearly depleted for the day and I feared that one more duel would suffice to finish me.

I noticed the Demal behind me, before turning and smirking at him. "And you are?" I did not stop running to speak, but he seemed to no offense at this. He was a wrong soul, as I could easily tell. We all knew one another. He kept pace beside me and Mara, with the outer wall of Telone looming closer and closer.

"My name is Zenzir," he paused before continuing, "and that was a rather interesting spectacle you pulled back there."

"Interesting? You should owe me a favor, soul-kin," I spat. "Do you not realize what I did? With the High Guardian dead and all his successors with him, I have left their borderguard in disarray. All the easier to free the rest of them from the world beyond." The second comment was no less hostile.

He seemed temporarily satisfied by this reply; I hoped he was not capable of sensing that the amulet that rode in my pocket was the true reason for the killings, and that it was only the old man that had been necessary. The others were casualties of my self defense. I might have been experienced, but if I had left them alive and just fled, they would have been able to bestow some particularly dangerous curses on myself. It was in this thought that I remembered the gash on my chest, and slowed down a little awkwardly.

The other Demal still followed, and the stairs to the upper wall were at hand. I stopped momentarily, did a round glance, and asked our pursuer politely, "Would you like to find some place more suitable to speak?"

The small nod of his head was all I needed, and I beckoned Mara, but just expected Zenzir to follow. I walked briskly up the wall's steps, and then to one of the guard stations along it. Here, knowing that the guards were probably busy, I spirited the other two into the tiny tower room and closed the door behind me. I tethered the lock,
and then drew from the dust to throw a fistful of clotting into the keyhole. It would be impossible to open until the broke it down, and the only exit was the small window.

"Now," I offered, tapping my foot impatiently, "what is it you want?"

=====

[EVme15]

Tevam Ryllena
- Zenzir Maeniy –

“Now, what is it you want?”

“Want? Nothing, really.” His obvious irritation seemed to increase at this comment, and I had the feeling that interacting with him would involve constantly walking on a thin line. “I simply decided it would be in my better interest to make sure you made it out of Telone alive.”

There was a pause, which I took as an opportunity to listen carefully to our surroundings. It seemed as if with the commotion at the ceremony, the entirety of the city guard had abandoned posts. How long that would last was uncertain, but for us, probably quite important.

“So the only reason you pursued me was to provide assistance.”

He looked me over skeptically. I shrugged slightly. “Assistance, guide, emergency aid, decoy; whichever the situation would call for. I’m not much in the way of combat, but you seemed to be qualified enough on that front anyway.”

It was then that several droplets of blood fell to the floor. I could tell that my companion was doing his best to ignore them, focusing his attention instead upon me. “You should probably do something about that wound, by the way...”

The Rae looked as if he were about to shout at me, or at least something close to it, when both our attentions were pulled back to the floor. The female he had brought along was bent down over the liquid, fingers hovering just above the dark spots. Her breathing was shallower, her eyes focused. She seemed captivated by the sight, and I found myself unable to turn away from her. I nearly jumped as she spoke.

“Uuleuhuen... It was such a sight... all that blood... all that fear...”
~|~|~|~|~
I'm an Elite Trainer now! ^^;;;

[Emotional Faun Chiko-sai]

I'm not dead, yet, but Thursday and physics haven't come...
Warning: If I'm still alive there will be a big post on the weekend.

Mini-post
Erensuge
"Conquistadores/makin' whoopee"
----------------------------

He had been very quiet, these past few weeks. He had been, for want of a better word, nice.

It wasn't the flying. Yes, well, some of the more experimental aerial manoeuvres Ortze had tried had been seriously nausea-inducing, but nausea wasn't a big problem for Erensuge, who had walked through corridor after corridor of whatever foul-smelling concoction invented by the priests in his temple without breaking a sweat. Perhaps it was the sensation of having wings. And using them.

It was giddy and exhilarating, this activity of flying, and even as he thought it he despised himself for thinking it.

No, it was probably the slow, slow breakdown of Telone from the inside out, inevitable as continental drift. There were so many words for what was happening that he could not begin to explain the thrill of what he experienced, as the physical body came ever closer to their destination; invasion, taken over, unrest, etcetera, they were all good words. Hooray and whoopee were optional.

He had plans for Tailen. Oh yes.

Mara was a fair bit younger than him, but she was far better than killing at he was. Let her take Telone with its rules and crack it open. She didn't have any problems. Unfortunately for him, he did.

His problem was Ortze.
-----------------------
Additional notes: This post is conducted three weeks from the time when Uul breaks a way through for Mara; this goes for all subsequent posts for Ortze/Erensuge. Um.. foresight? ^^;;
EDIT: Congrats evme15! But, the Moderator tag looks infinitely better than Elite Trainer, I would say >P

[Weasel Overlord]

~Rhee’ualheu Mara Deiis’alu, Wrong Soul~

The boy who was following us was uncertain as to his role. Just why he came was beyond me, although Uul clearly felt that he was unnecessary, as did I.

I smelled that he was my younger by at least a thousand years, and Uul, well, he was even younger than me, although I was almost a fossil by now. Racking my brains, I tried my hardest to remember the boy from the Border.

He said his name was Zenzir…Sniffing up as close to him as I could manage without arousing suspicion, I tested him for recognition. A hint of cowardice, and an odd power…I remembered this boy. Although he was nothing special.

Then another scent came to me, delicious, memorable, and grasping. Blood! Gaping down at the floor, I saw that Uuleuhuen was bleeding, and some beautiful spots of the red fluid had fallen to the ground, like flowers opening to sunshine. Dropping to my knees, my hand hovered over the spots. Ah, it brought back the memories!

The blood-scent filled the air, and I inhaled deeply. My first kill. My parents had been so proud…I could see their faces shining out through the crowd, but then… their expressions turned to worry, and then to fear. Gazing round at all the others, I saw their faces mirroring my parents’. Confusion. Fear. The smell of blood heightened my senses, and I saw the world through a dog’s eyes. Shades of grey layered my vision, and scents became more obvious.

My own confusion was almost overwhelming…until I realised that the creature I had sacrificed was indeed a wild dog. Its carcass lay in front of me, enticing, and I dipped my mouth (muzzle) down to it to take another drink. Lapping with my tongue (longer now) I revelled in the taste of blood. Realising that my powers had finally showed themselves, although I would probably be alienated from now on.

Lifting my head, I sensed out my parents, just clouds of familiar smelling grey. Bounding over the screaming crowds, I found their side and sat down, my limbs awkward and new. Leaning down to me, my mother became a wave of scent that overwhelmed my delicate nose and twanged in my brain. Something took over, and I leapt. The smell of blood was strong in my nose as I sought out the pulsing centre. Screams. Gushing blood, glorious and warm, enveloped me. I was no longer myself…

“Uuleuhuen…it was such a sight…all that blood, all that fear…” My hand hovered over the pooling blood staining the floor, and I willed it into my palm. I had always had a power over blood and as it flowed into my hand, I sighed with a happiness I hadn’t felt since I went beyond the Border. Lifting my palm, I smeared the blood over my face, to the horrified looks of Zenzir and the intrigued glances of Uul.

“Zenzir, you do not belong with us. I know Uuleuhuen, and he works alone. You should leave. Now.” I glared at him as the first of my changes overcame me, and he must have sensed something new and feral within me, for he backed away, hands up.

“Fine. I shall leave…” Turning, he fled the room, able to open the door despite Uul’s clogging powder. I panted heavily, overcome by my transformation, and Uul had the decency to look slightly alarmed, although I knew he was deadly curious.

As he watched, I turned into an almost identical, yet much more feminine version of himself. I felt my face flowing to mirror his features, and I grew slightly taller. Shock registered on his face for a few seconds, and then he composed himself.

“You’re a shapeshifter?”

“When I lived, my title was Rhee’ualheu, which does translate as ‘shapeshifter’ in the common language. But now, I can sense some of your thoughts. We are linked by your blood…it is a very…odd sensation; I have never linked with a living victim…I mean, a living person before. I feel the flow of your mind…touching mine…” I gave a great shudder as our minds touched, and I continued to speak over our link, rather than wasting energy speaking manually.

-I sense your plan…-
-Yes. Would you help me, then?-
-I shall.-

Walking towards Uul, I wrapped my arms about his slender body, enjoying the feel of our minds and our bodies touching, and I guided him over to the window.

-Change now…-

He became dust, and I flung him into the wind. His particles scattered and I felt a slight tearing sensation as our minds were ripped apart. Letting out a soft gasp, I tumbled back into the room and awaited the transition back to myself. It was sure to be painful…

[Vulpix.ck87]

Zy’kan Keth ~ The blue haired wanderer



He had been travelling alone for a few days now, and although it had been almost two weeks since he left the city, Zy’kan honestly knew he hadn’t gone far, nor made significant progress. Part of this was for his uncertainty in the state and safety of the cities (Zy’kan had puzzled over the right direction to head in for many days); and half of it was down to his guilt, which marred him at every turn, and that there was a very possible ransom on his head (Zy’kan had lain low in one inn for the duration of many days, or in other words, until he at long last realised that no-one was following him for the simple bounty of his head.). And though he seemed to be in the clear (ie. everyone thought he was dead), he was still not rid of this most unfamiliar of feelings: guilt. Each new day within the taverns where he resided brought fresh news from Telone, and none of it was welcome.

With each telling of the goings on more dire and darker than the last, it soon seemed to Zy’kan that there was little left from his past to fear - Telone had fallen apart. The sacred culture that the Demal had held in such high regard had fallen into a state of disrepair: the grand walls of the temples and stone altars might as well have begun crack; the fine fabrics of the guardian’s and priest’s robes - so cherished and adored - might as well have unravelled, along with their masters. None of his own people wanted to seek their revenge, and eventually the fear faded in Zy’kan’s mind. Instead, a new threat rose, startlingly close and burning bright - the border had been cracked, broken, exploited by the trapped souls, and now it had fallen. Who knew how many of the city’s original inhabitants still held their own heads? The souls were taking over actual bodies, and that was what scared Zy the most. Many people were leaving Telone, running far out into the country - the very inn Zy now slept in was miles from the Demal capital’s walls, yet equally bereft of customers and indeed it’s own landlord.

Zy’kan filled the small sink with water. The bathroom ensuite to his quarters was drab, tiny, but Zy’kan held no permanence within this hole. However easy it would be to set up accommodation within this house, Zy knew he had to leave never-the-less. Zy stripped down to his bare chest, carefully placing his travel worn and dirt sodden cloak upon the towel rack, his neatly folded shirt perched on top of it. He dipped the rough rag provided into the crystal clear water to wet it, then rung it out before dabbing his shoulders, back and underarms ferociously. The ice cold water stung him for a moment, and he hesitated for a second before proceeding to wipe the cold sweat from his bare chest - he had woke up haunted by bad dreams yet again this morning. Looking in the mirror he could see dark circles rent underneath his weary eyes, and he leaned over to throw handfuls of water over his face in a hope that it would rouse him to a better beauty. Solemn green eyes back to the mirror and raking fingers combed his long hair back from his face. He sighed, smiled, and after pondering for a further moment upon his ragged appearance, he began to work his magic. A little sparkle here and a little sparkle there.. And his skin was perfect once more, his hair spun back gracefully and his eyes twinkling with charm. After dressing, his clothes spoke of elegance and grandeur once more, and it even seemed as though Zy’kan had patched his attitude back to his merry standard. He collected his meagre belongings and left the house soon after. Dawn had not yet broken.

Whether his horse had been stolen or ambled off in the night, Zy did not know, but he had been travelling by foot for the last couple of days. His toes cut a dry path through the plush dew baubled grass, and as soon as he had passed the small stream that flowed by the inn there was nothing but open plains once more before him. He walked slowly but steadily for about 20 minutes or so, not even slacking as he unravelled a small moisture-resistant wrapping of cream material and held the package open in one palm. With his other hand he ate the berries one by one, a small ration that did not last long, though each individual fruit was rich and succulent in his mouth, it’s smooth, moisture filled presence a thing to be savoured and which replenished his thirst quickly. In his bag he carried a small bundle of dried meats, unfortunately salted but the only other thing of a good condition within the inn’s kitchens, as well as a small flask made from animal skin, a waterproof canteen that Zy had filled as he passed the stream. Though he had eaten some bread last night - stale and a little fuzzy - Zy’s stomach protested loudly at it’s mistreatment - the pie filled evenings of his first few days of escape were now but a distant memory as the bordering residencies of Telone inevitably turned into a ghost town.

Zy had finally decided to head to Tailen, a city where he would certainly not be recognised and could possibly seek help. The city might be full of refugees, and perhaps a target for the wandering souls, but he could not wander from rest house to rest house for the remainder of his years. And besides, it was well away from the border. And he needed a proper bath.

And so a plan: Zy would walk the plains till noon, heading north until he hit one of the main tributaries that branches off from the River Tai, and then following that to the crossed waterways of the River Tai and the River Haik, where he could rest and preen. Once it hit midday and the sun was high in the sky, he would fly the rest of the way to Tailen by following the produce of the two rivers aforementioned - a third, greater river that came partly from the mountains and that was the main water supply of Tailen. Zy’kan was glad he remembered at least this small amount of geography. It shouldn’t be too difficult a journey, thought Zy, surveying the cloudless sky with interest. The air is open and welcoming today, and by noon the thermals will be full and ready enough to bear my weight with ease. I’ll be soaring most of the way.

Just then Zy’kan slowed his pace, and stumbled to an abrupt halt. It was almost dawn! Fingers of light stretched up and away from the horizon showing that the sun would crest soon and.. Foolish Zy’kan - the Ritual! Every morning devout of his journey Zy had taken part in the ways of his Demal heritage and performed the ritual as he had done countless times in the past. Perhaps he didn’t have a perfect record but now that his people were so troubled.. Zy’kan had an urgent nagging in the back of his head that told him that it was now more important than ever to abide by the told ways.

Zy rapidly tried to soothe his frantic heart and mind to a calmer state, but at the same time he was casting his eyes around desperately. Where, where..?!? And then he realised he was taking entirely the wrong approach. It would be dawn soon. He must use his ears, not his eyes. And through the long grasses there came a muffled chirp, a single sweet note of an ave’s anticipation. Hastily unbinding his longsword’s hilt, Zy felt for a single stone from his pocket, perfectly round and smooth. Deft and slender fingers drew out the crimson strip of fabric from the swords handle, and pulled the two ends to a selective loop. He cupped the stone with the fabric, let gravity pull the pebble down to reside low within it’s sling, and angled his arm. He fixed his eyes on the location of the chirp, and rotated his wrist to bring the sling around in a sharp graceful circle, the stone sliding out of it’s orbit and flying off into the grass with a killing speed..

A thump! The bird’s early song ceased and Zy walked through the grass to pick up his prize. He looked down at the tiny swallow, and picked it up gently in one hand to place it upon the red fabric of the sling, it’s breast broken, and yet.. Still alive. It’s heart beat frantically beneath his thumb, yet it’s wings fluttered with no more impact than a butterfly’s. Zy stroked it’s side with a finger and nursed it gently as he stood back up to face the horizon once more. And as he began to whisper the bird fixed him with a dying stare.

“Dehf aqua equiff, borrea ney Keth..
..Ifrie ney avis, Reh Lemn tel narre…”

‘Cast water clear and plants tall,
Warm winds, bring life forth into the new day..’

The bird was soothed, and lay dormant in his palm, still watching him. He raised it to the sky, and drew out his knife with his left hand. The sun rose..

‘First light of the world , dissolve unto the ether.
With these wings, guide our lost souls home.’

And as the sun broke the horizon a hundred voices sang out to welcome it. For a split second Zy squinted as the dew crowned canvas before him was thrown into a myriad of rainbows as dazzling rays of light flowed out across it, and then his eyes adjusted and a specific sound brought him back.. The tiny creature within Zy’s hand reached out to the skies and, even though broken and dying, sang one rich wavering note of the dawn song with it’s brothers.

One sharp swipe and Zy’kan slit the sparrow’s throat. It sang no more, and he felt the familiar remorse that such beauty should come to an end and, at the same time, was filled with a notion to cherish the day to no end. This was always the way.. Respectfully, he plucked a feather from his wing, and lay the single azure plume upon the dead bird’s breast. The fabric the bird lay on absorbed it’s blood, the crimson stained darker, and eternally richer.

The bird was laid to rest, the fabric returned to it’s sword, and the Demal’s heart flew high as the day begun.

[Emotional Faun Chiko-sai]

Ortze Tximistari/Erensuge
"It's always better on holiday."
-------------------------------

Erensuge had gotten them lost twice, in the mountains, because he had refused to do any sort of flying, or allowed Ortze to coast the minds of passing hawks, at all. He denied a fear of heights with his usual stubborn hissiness. Ortze suspected that he wanted to hold control over the body for as long as he could, even trying to talk to the birds himself, but since animal empathy was a quality inherent in the core of the original soul (viz. Ortze) the hawks had merely stared at him with their beady eyes, decided that he was food not worthy of their attention, and flown away. And the mountains were too cold for snakes. The third time Ortze found them wandering off the path, into the same gully they had just climbed out of a day before, he had become extremely fed up and took matters into his own mindly hands.

Ortze had been this way once before, when he was fifteen and still gangly and had been about to be volunteered, by the Tximistari, into training for the City Guard. He hadn't wanted to be on the City Guard. In the flush of angsty teenagerhood, he hadn't wanted to be anything the Tximistari had wanted him to be.

Surprisingly, he had actually gone as far as the gates of Tailen, and thought that for a runaway he had done pretty well, until a few days into his arrival and subsequent stay Grandfather Lorea had called him into his chambers and been very diplomatic, and he was escorted back to Telone by his two older cousins, who were both already in the Guard.

They seemed occupied in Telone. Well, they would be. If there were freaks like Erensuge running around in people's minds, they had to be busy with damage control. (This thought was to remain, beating and screaming, in an isolated hollow of his skull, until, much later, he finally realized its significance; by which time it might have been already too late.)

Ortze extended a mindly bit of consciousness into the mountains, looking for the sharp and no-nonsense mind of a raptor, and found one. He pushed, lightly, so that the hawk felt his request pulsing in its clear-cut desire to kill something small and furry, and found itself swooping down onto Ortze's shoulder, and telling him things about wind direction and treacherous crags and where all the food and water was. Many hawks were disrupted in their hunt over the course of the next three weeks, because neither Ortze nor Erensuge felt the inclination to stay in an inn, where faces were noted and news was spread.

It was three weeks later.*

Ortze rolled and dipped and glided like the most expert of migratory seabirds, with Erensuge dormant somewhere at the back of his mind turning slightly greener than he usually was, and landed in a clearing when he saw the city-state of Tailen crouching comfortably in the middle distance. Telone's walls, haughty and secure in their very solid stoneness, might loom, but Tailen's walls were a rather friendlier sort of gorsebush affair, confident in the knowledge that, should any invaders decide to invade, the very plants of the forest would rise up against them and end the invasion quickly and efficiently. The walls hadn't needed to be built. They'd grown themselves.

"Halt, intruder!" said an authoritative voice.

There was a knobbly pike embedded between his shoulderblades. He'd never been arrested before; usually he did the arresting. His mouth began operations on instinct.

"Good day to you, sir. I don't know whether you have noticed, but the sky is unusually blue today, ahah, and I do not mean any harm to Tailen or any of its inhabitants, I am here on, uh, holiday, that's it, holiday, horrible rainy weather we've been having, and I'd like to see the elder, or rather the elder's daughter, on account of me being her son, I mean the elder's daughter's son, and-"

"Is that you, Ortze?" asked the voice, suspiciously. It suddenly sounded younger than it should have been, and oddly familiar. Erensuge, who had had more experience of being assaulted by zealous city guards, and knew that zealous city guards usually had their pikes in your left lung before you could say much more than "Good da- urk!", bridled.

- It is a little girl, you fool. And a very long stick.

"It is you!" An unidentified flying body hit Ortze's shoulders harder than the pike had, and entwined its arms about his neck. There was a ticklish sensation of petals against his skin, and then a head popped itself into his vision, wrong side up, gaily-coloured daisy-chains dangling down in an absurd fashion. The daisy chains righted themselves by forming into an inverted wreath on the perpetrator's hair. A pair of very blue eyes stared into his own. Ortze saw the golden star upon her forehead, and knew who she was. "What are you doing here? Are you running away again? Or is everybody in Telone on holiday?"

Ortze's brain tried to do a u-turn. "Um... on holiday?"

The blue eyes crinkled. "I like holidays. Did the Tximistari let you go on holiday?"

Ortze decided to try telling the truth. He hadn't told the truth for a long time. His skills were rusty. "Um... no?"

"That's the best kind of holiday," said the blue eyes happily. "Come on, let's go to the Tree and tell everyone you're on holiday. I was volunteering for guardwork cos we don't have any guards and I was allowed to sit in on Council for the first time, and Dad said we've got to have some measure of control over all the people that's coming in and he doesn't know why we've got so many tourists this past week and they all said yes and in the end nobody but me did anything about it-"

Her chatter washed over Ortze's head soothingly. No one in Telone talked like that. They were all too busy ritualling. Even the air felt freer in Tailen. She settled back a little onto his shoulders, sticklike legs on both sides of his neck, as they headed towards the city proper.

Erensuge was curious.

- Who is this?
- Devana, my-
- Is she not your bride? She is far too intimate with you. And you are an only child.
- What? Yuk! She's my aunt! She's only twelve!
- Is it possible to be the twelve-year-old aunt of a twenty-three-year-old man? Your people breed like rabbits.
- It was a miracle birth, okay? I could ask you what your people are thinking of, marrying at twelve!
- We were civilized people. We promised children to each other at birth, with the blessings of the temple. It was not uncommon for a man of fifty to take to bed a girl of eleven. This girl, I must say, is a very pretty child. Erensuge said this rather too smugly for Ortze's comfort.
- Stop hitting on my aunt, you old viper. More importantly, don't even try to make me look as if I'm hitting on my aunt.
- I will do whatever I like with my time, boy. After all, I am your pet problem.

Erensuge elbowed himself into control while Ortze was lost in his own private hell of horrified embarrassment, wrestling with the terrible thought that he now had not just a psycho, but a psycho with paedophiliac inclinations running loose in his mind, and cut into Devana's monologue. "If I had really been an intruder, what would you have done?"

She gave this due consideration. "I would have hit you with the pike, and while you were laughing at the sheer absurdity of a little girl hitting you with a very long stick I would have tied you up with Myklas' flowers, and while you were dealing with that I would have already called the wolves and the sambar to keep you busy, and asked the trees to call for my kin in Tailen."

Erensuge approved of this, and then Ortze, mortified, wrested control from the older soul's grasp, in case he had been planning something unsavoury. Relations continued in this manner, Devana completely oblivious to the shifting consciousness in her nephew's head, and ruffling his hair absently as she told him stories about her eleven sisters and the city.

Ah, Tailen - a circular city with rings of dwellings like the rings in a tree's trunk, rings added and growing as the city's population swelled, and in its centre the only extant baobab tree in the world. The tree itself is another city where the elder's family and those who believe themselves elevated enough live. It is an upside-down kind of tree, with its branches that look like roots, and its roots that look like branches. Staircases were carved into it, and these go only about a quarter of the way up to the top, to the little houses that some have built on the sparse, jutting lower branches; there is a Main Staircase made in the trunk itself, and it occupies but a small area of the tree's actual diameter. Fireproof and floodproof, the tree is the real stronghold of the Falith; a repository for faith and hope, timeless as the stone circles that dot the landscape about their country. It has been there since forever, since the abundant green of the Falith country was an arid desert, and the city grew itself up around it, such as moss extends its fingers greenly over a rock.

There are no leaves on the tree for nine months of the year, until November and December and January when all the other trees are devoid of leaves, and only then do the silver-grey leaves appear, slowly and shyly, until the branches are covered with their retiring presence. Because they are grey and not green some enterprising Falith propose that the tree is actually dead; and then the others ask why the leaves, and nothing is ever resolved. The tree never flowers. It is bonded to nobody. It has never been known to speak to the Falith, as the other trees do. But they hold it in reverence, and they worship it occasionally in the chamber at the back of the tree where the elders are buried, and they can assume that it does not mind their dependence upon it.

If you put your ear to the massive trunk you can hear the wet mumble of sounds from the treetop, travelling distorted through thirty metres of water countless years stored.

Directly Erensuge set Ortze's eyes upon the tree, a electric spark tingled all the way up his mindly snake-spine. He knew what it was.

Devana led Ortze through the winding warren of Tailen's mud houses and trees. Had he come a week ago people might have stared at his wings: but not a few Demal had run to Tailen in the past few days, and they now warranted merely a cursory glance. At any rate, his red hair was immediately recognisable by most Falith; red was a colour rare in the follicles of the nature-people.

They passed through the totem guardians on either side of the roughly circular clearing made by the tree's immense roots. The totem guardians were, respectively, a bird with the tail and fins of a fish, and a serpently dog. The pillars on which these creatures perched were each twice Ortze's height and more. They halted at the foot of one of the gnarled staircases, the one leading to where the Twins lived; his twin aunts, Thalatte and Sorguiñ, one mute and one a witch, one tall and one small. Devana sprang up the steps two at a time, heading for the wisteria-wound arbour that was Thalatte's home.

Ortze lingered, for it had just occurred to him the reason for Erensuge's quietness; the influx of Telone's citizens to the tree-lovers' capital; the lack of action on the Tximistari's part on recovering their lost charge; and they fitted together now, like links on a deadly chain. The thought that had buzzed in his mind unheeded for weeks now grabbed hold of his metaphorical ears and screamed into them the sad, tired truth, a town crier who had called for too long:

Telone is fallen!

Erensuge, insufferably pleased with himself, observed the furrowing of the mongrel boy's brow, and looked at the now familiar tree, and plotted.
----------------------
*Well... give or take a few hours. *pokes vulpix ck in a bad version of a hint for tag* You want to fast forward Zy'kan three weeks, too? *bambi eyes*
Please make noise if the liberties I took with Tailen and the baobab tree were too liberal.

[Weasel Overlord]

~Torran Ylldier~
...Meetings...

The boy looked unsure as to Torran’s greetings, starting a little as his real identity nearly slipped out. He smiled shyly and glanced at the floor, shuffling his feet a little.

“My name is Akakios.” So, he was the silent type, eh? That suited Torran just fine, not normally loquacious, he would prefer a quiet travelling companion to a talkative one.

“Your bow was particularly well-executed, have you spent any time in Demal society?” He grimaced at this comment, and Torran decided to stay off the topic of Telone unless it was utterly necessary.

“I spent...a little time there...I found it...er, lovely...” Torran beamed at the compliment to his city, and then remembered that he wasn’t supposed to be from there and arranged his face into blankness again, a trick he found easy from his time as High Guardian. A Guardian was expected to be serene and impassive at all times, and one of the first things a young Scholar is taught is to hide their emotions.

It seemed that this youngster had been taught much the same as Torran had. It was going to be a fun journey. Chuckling inwardly, he beckoned Sulin down from the nearby tree. He alighted on his shoulder and flapped his wings at Akakios, in his usual form of greeting. Speaking directly into my mind, he laughed.

-Who is this?? He’s like a little boy...- He sniggered across our link.
-This is Akakios. And don’t be rude. He will be our travelling companion for a while.-
-Have you asked him yet?- His voice dripped sarcasm, and I realised that he was right.

-Erm...- Torran swore and spoke out loud. Speaking to Sulin through their mind-link was a habit that was hard to kick when they were with other people.

“So where are you headed...er...Akakios? We’re...that is, me and Sulin, are going to Marrustil. You are welcome to join us...” Akakios looked slightly downcast at the invitation, as if he didn’t want company, but he shook his head and composed himself, that blank face appearing once more.

“I will. If only for a little while. I will travel to Marrustil with you, and then we will part ways. I do not like travelling in groups, although it could have it’s advantages...” He glanced at Sulin and smiled. “You are Sulin then? Do you speak?”

“Yes! I do speak, and I would thank you not to address me in such a manner, boy.” His musical voice dripped with derision and he held his head high. It was as if he were telling off a cheeky Scholar back in Telone...Torran sniggered under his breath and let his thoughts flow along their link.

-Don’t be so rude! He looks good with those stars...- Sulin made a little Dragon snort and flapped off to take refuge in a tree.

“Catch me a bird while you’re there!” Torran shouted after him. “It’s nearly time for the Midday Ritual...” Gasping, he shot a glance at Akakios, to see if he had noticed the slip. He grinned in my direction and held up his hands disarmingly.

“Don’t worry. I can tell that you come from Telone, I won’t tell anyone. Anyway, I do the Ritual myself. It will be...nice to perform it in company...”

[Plantae]

= Ahuk Oyohk =

It was much worse than he had thought. The scholars together had put a particularly nasty curse on... whose was this body? It was both mine and Uuleuhuen's, which came to me with a certain distaste. I found it increasingly difficult to understand the world when veiled by the heavy undertow that was this "other soul," but it was even possible for me to still perceive the melancholy that pervaded my person when Uuleuhuen had killed Telone's "finest." I had never much an appreciation for the Demal, but they did not deserve to have their culture destroyed. If I had not to share this pain, I would not feel pity in the slightest for Uul's "wound."

He waned in his power over my body with his exhaustion, and would have likely given control up willingly anyway. Despite my desire to disobey his intentions, which were to avoid the notice of any organized Demal force or person that might be after the ambitious Wrong Soul of a Rae who had scattered their populace, I was not outwardly suicidal. The intention to oust Uuleuhuen was never far from my mind, but I did enjoy some small amount of joy without his presence. I loved again this freedom, the ability to turn my features again to an ample smile, without seeing those glazed and psychotic eyes of my guest. He had been a Rae also, I gathered, but I had never imagined our people's demeanor appearing so primal. It was such that even when the barmaid grinned at me in an inn I stayed in along the road, as I tipped her politely, it brought a fine satisfaction to me that I had not previously felt. It was likely that my attitude should be dismal, and it was when I saw those tattered Demal souls that had fled. Still, a bit of mead could do no harm.

I was not completely sure of Telone's fate, however. Rumors persisted, that all had left, but a nagging at the back of my mind suggested that there might yet be some military presence in the city. If not, it would only be a matter of time before the exiled gathered a sizable force. The stone had crested the hill indeed in Uul's rash action, but it would soon roll down the other side. Then... then matters would involve hostility.

It was not wholly impossible to hide thoughts from Uuleuhuen. Sure, we did share the same existence but our minds were not as delicately immersed as one would imagine. Oh yes, he made sure he passed over none of the dominating notions, but even as a manipulator of dust, he did often miss the cracks. It was a certain irony that I could hold minute details from him, but it hardly mattered in the face of his ability to hide nearly everything from me. I could detect his surface thoughts yes, his basic emotions, and the pain, but nothing much else found its way over the link between the two of us.

He had only accidentally slipped once, and that had been when the name "Erensuge" had floated into my consciousness. Slithered was a nicer word in actuality, in the sense of how precise "float" was. The very name had a connotation of serpents, deception, which I was keenly aware of. I was not immensely charismatic, but I had woven a few complex lies in my time, and understood how such reptilian fellows thought. It was more than likely that this "Erensuge" was a wrong soul, but there was also a small nuance of foreboding; I could find naught of his intentions or of Uul's reason for associating with him.

There was a small matter that did disturb me. The few times Uuleuhuen had spoken over our trip, of which we were presently around a couple small villages near Lake Hikar, it had been far too intentional. He had seemed almost matronly in his manner of asking questions, having consisted of several things, of which I was glad "how are you?" was not among them. As contemplative and shrewd with thoughts as the man was, he was not much for the art of trickery.

= Uuleuhuen =

It had been three weeks since the endeavor at the palisade in Telone, and the slash across my chest had grown almost infected in the blackness of its appearance. I must have resisted the effects of whatever magic they had attempted, but it was likely to scar grotesquely. It hardly mattered, in the scheme of things.

I had been rather silent and almost generous to Ahuk of late, and there was avid reason. I was not to get rid of him, no, far from it, but the turn of events that was to come was not to be to the boy's liking.

It had been just last night when I had thought him asleep enough to contact another of the Wrong Souls; I felt later that I could have taken more time to observe the "asleep" part.

It had taken little time to whisper into the great void, my sense having sharpened considerably with this new body, and with my target being somewhat nearby. "Erensuge," I had mumbled, to the point that he had hardly heard me in his head.

"Who is this?" He had muttered back with a hiss, I almost felt his venom through telepathy.

"My name is of no importance. I am a friend of Mara's, who you well know, the Rae that brought her into this world. I have little time, but I need a favor."

"Favor... I do not do favors, Rae." He seemed irritated, and beyond that annoyance I sensed that another presence might be some cause of his irritation; he struggled with some sort of demon, an unwanted specter in the body he controlled. So it is true, I nearly thought aloud. I would later learn that it was the severity of that moment exactly that brought Ahuk from his deep slumber.

"I know you have a 'problem,' so to speak. Here: let yourself browse this body of mine a bit." He found the notion a little awkward, but I felt a stinging tingle enter from our telepathic link, assess, and quickly withdraw.

"Hmm." It was all he uttered, and I understood that he must have seen what had been beyond.

"Yes, I have a similar predicament. It is then, that I have some of the knowledge of a way to remove your little nuisance." The word was met with a telepathic silence.

"Do you now?" The tone was distrustful, but almost gleefully hopeful. I knew that it was likely he had schemes of his own, but would probably be much taken by instant gratification.

"Have you any knowledge of the artifacts of the High Guardian of Telone?" I asked, prodding his curiosity.

"What little I gleaned off this meat bag, this flying filth. I know that he possesses them, is all. Why? What is your intention with them? I presume you have stolen these artifacts?" His tone was impatient, still a little disbelieving, but I might have goaded him slightly more. If he was not of my kind in some way, this exchange might have gone differently. I sensed I was playing with fire. I only hoped my culture's Uimir-Da, a passionate dance performed across coals and embers, would aid me in my mental fire walking.

"You must know of the Periapt of Wisdom." He could only have heard of it somewhere, though the next part was to be tricky. I waited as he considered it in his head.

"The High Guardian's? The one that is imbued with some of the power from the ancient ritual to construct the border?" His voice rose slightly in excitement, but he remained as coolly charismatic as possible. His malevolence, I could tell, was even deeper than mine.

"The same... I happen to have it here. As you can imagine, I am likely to be pursued by any Demal military force that comes across me. Or, even any people that find the need to take down the 'Rae' that has thus shattered the great capital Telone. I know of a ritual that involves using the periapt; this ritual could remove the excess trash in your body. Remove it entirely." I could tell Erensuge felt a little tempted.

"What is the catch?" He asked, suspicious, as he had right to be.

"I need you to smuggle me into Tailen. I would normally do it myself, but I also need some inside knowledge. I happen to know by word of mind that your possessed is part Falith-Hai. I need two materials. First, dust from the tomb of the Falith-Hai elders. Second, ground silver leaf from the great Baobab Tree. I have no idea as to how to gain these materials, so it is then that I would need your assistance."

"I will consider it, certainly." The last word was said with the ease of a flicked tongue, palpating the air beyond.

"Contact me if you decide the offer is worth pursuing-" I momentarily choked as Ahuk awakened to full tilt, but I was too far to not say the word, "Erensuge." Ahuk feigned ignorance, but I was quite sure he heard it. The link had been abruptly cut off, but the message stood well enough.

"What are you doing, you wrong soul bastard?" Woken up in the middle of the night, it appeared that Ahuk was less than well-mannered.

- I was only having small talk with one of my kin. I will meditate, so you may rest once again.

He did his best to glare without the ability to manipulate a pair of eyes inside his head, and then dropped again onto his pillow. Once I was sure he had gone to dreamland, I did meditate; I mused on one last thought. If Erensuge did take my offer, he would find that the only valuable part of the Periapt, the chain, had been removed. I would promise him the rest of the pendant before if he did help me gain access to Tailen, and then make off with the materials with all speed. By the time he discovered he had been swindled, I would be out of reach. More than likely, he would not be interested; I did not deny that Erensuge, from what I had heard of him, could take care of his "problem" himself. So, knowing that he would probably refuse my deal, I began already concocting other plans that would be equally viable. Nothing was to deprive me of what I desired.

=====

I apologize if I took too many liberties with your character, Yi-wen!

[EVme15]

>_>
<_<
*cough*
~|~|~|~|~
Tevam Ryllena
- Zenzir Maeniy -

“So kill me for trying to help...” I mumbled, closing the door behind me and heading down the steps.

~|~|~

He had been right. Telone was fallen. The citizens fled in droves, for the first time fearing their lives. Whether they were unwilling to or unable to, those in higher positions made no move to stop the mass departure. Had I cared, I’m sure it would have saddened me. But as I was not truly one of these people, I minded not the slightest. The only difference this made would be any action I took would be more likely to be noticed, as I was one of the few not within the power structure to remain. So, yes, in that sense, I guess I did mind.

My encounter with those two other wrong souls had been on my mind for a while. What they did, they did deliberately. What they were seeking, they sought completely. Now, as long as I was waiting things out, I could think things over.

What did I want? Nothing came to mind. I had escaped the Border, and for a long time that seemed like enough. Then came the thought of rescuing my kin, yet the body I had seized was not fit for fighting, so I could not act upon that as I wished. Those two seemed to have the same intention as I, but as soon as I had offered they cast me away. I could not help them. In a sense, I guess I was useless. There was nothing to spy on anymore, though the border guard still kept watch through these harrowing times. I was reluctant to venture out of the city, for my flight and magic would not be able to cover for my obvious lack of physical strength.

There had to be something I could do. If there was one thing that vexed me most about these Demal, it was how they were masters of doing nothing and taking so long to do it. But I would be forced to wait, the patient Demal even more, for the time being at least. Eventually there would be opportunity. I might, in time, even be able to get at the Border. We’d see.

[Weasel Overlord]

There will be a Mara post tomorrow night! Meanwhile, I am enjoying drawing a lovely diagram of various High Guardian sigils! ^^ hee hee...fun!!

Oh yeah, good posts everyone! And hopefully this next post of mine will give you an oppurtunity to join in, Tsukasa...

~Torran Ylldier~
…Rituals and sigils…

Sulin flew back down from the tree, clutching a tiny blackbird in his claws. It looked like a fledgling, almost colourless wings and soft beak, and Torran wondered how Sulin had managed to get it away from its mother.

Glancing at the sun, Torran judged that it was about Midday, and walked over to the small copse to clear a space under a tree. Beckoning to Akakios, he sat cross-legged after spreading out the upper layer of his robe. Tugging his pack onto his lap, he opened it and rummaged around for some a stick of chalk. Finding a piece, he closed his pack and placed it gently beside him again.

The chalk was long and thin, almost charcoal, and it was silvery in colour, similar to the scales of Sulin.

Applying the slimmer end to the grass in front of him, he swiftly drew a long and elegant sigil; his unique sign. It was a dragon’s wing, half-encircled by a filled-in crescent moon and dotted with tiny star-like shapes. As he drew, the lines chased over with glowing silver, as if they had been sprinkled with glimmer-dust, and they shone eerily in the hot midday sun.

Akakios gasped quietly as he watched from his own cross-legged position next to Torran.

“Were you a High Guardian?” He sounded astonished, examining Torran’s features carefully for signs of familiarity. “I…I think I recognise you…you were, weren’t you…?”

“Was.” Torran snapped. “I do not wish to speak of those times.” His head bent once again to his sigil as he drew the finishing touches. A single diagonal line that scored throughout the whole sign, chasing with an ominous black colour like a slash of darkness flashing through drapes. The sigil shimmered once more, before becoming matte, the only sign of any glowing was the occasional pulse of the black line.

Torran’s head dropped to his chest, as he prepared himself for the sacrifice. Breathing deeply, once, twice, he opened his eyes and held out his hand to Sulin.

-Pass me the bird, dear one.-

He flew over and dropped it gently into his outstretched palm and with a small cheep, he fluttered down into Torran’s lap, ready to help him in his meditations.

With a flick of his wrist, Torran brought out his small and curving knife from its sheath. The blade was tinged with deep blue, like his wings, and it was almost wavy along its length. Around a hand-span long, the knife spent most of its time sheathed in a small tube-like device strapped to Torran’s wrist…

An assassin’s weapon, little brother. And a gift from me…

The knife was very special to Torran, and he always kept it sharp, cleaning the beautiful blade after each Ritual.

Now, he lay the tiny Blackbird on his palm. It was no larger that his hand-span, from tail to beak, fingertip to wrist. Parting its chest feathers carefully, Torran bowed his head and muttered a private prayer over its palpitating body. He could feel its little heart beating…

Glancing at Akakios, he pressed the knife tip to the bird’s chest, not hard enough to cut…not yet.

“With this sacrifice, we thank you for our blood…” He pressed in slightly, drawing a single bead of blood that ran down onto his wrist.

“With this sacrifice, we thank you for our flight…” He ran the knife from wingtip to wingtip, bringing the two lines to meet in the centre, underneath the perfect droplet of blood.

“With this sacrifice, we thank you.” Bowing his head, he plunged the knife deep into the bird’s heart, feeling it flutter one last time before going out like a flame extinguished by a draft.

Placing his finger in the centre of the blood droplet, he dabbed a little on his forehead, turned to Akakios who proffered his head too. Daubed in blood, the meditated under the trees until the sun was past its zenith.

Slowly waking as if from a deep sleep, Torran gripped a clump of grass and carefully rubbed his knife blade clean before flicking it back into its home.

“Are you ready, Akakios?” He rose, feeling refreshed after the Ritual, and ready to do some hard travelling. “We have some way to go before the day is done…if you feel secure enough, we could travel by night. Then we may make Marrustil in under a week…of maybe not, depending upon the circumstances.”

Akakios nodded in agreement, and slinging their packs over our shoulders, they set off, Sulin flying by Torran’s side, and occasionally sitting on his shoulder when he grew tired.

An hour passes…

“Do you mind if I fly some of the way? I need to stretch my wings…” In truth, Torran wanted some ‘alone-time’. The companionship was becoming tedious, and he wished to soar the skies alone, like the old days…

“I do not mind.”

Torran got a good run up, and launched himself, spreading out his wings at the last moment and feeling the jolt as the wind took them. He sighed with happiness.

-I could never imagine life without flight, Sulin!-
-Ah, but what about the boy…- He glanced down at Akakios, plodding steadily on below us.
-He has the air of a Demal…and yet, no wings…he is an enigma indeed.-
-When I look at him, I see his aura, and a faint outline of wings, and yet, he has none. But I dare not bring up the subject…it seems to me that he may be sensitive about questioning…-
-Ah, paying attention for once, are you?- Torran flicked a wing at him in good humour and caught an updraft. The thermal threw him further up and he tumbled with it, enjoying the sensation of the warm air beneath his wings.

Folding his wings back, he went into a crazy swirling dive, unfolding just before he hit the ground to swoop back up.

-Hey hey, what’s this…?- He pointed at the horizon, where a figure was staggering towards them.
-Not another traveller…- Sulin groaned and then flew down for a better look.
-This one’s female…she looks like a Falith-Hai…-
-Coming from Marrustil? That’s odd…- Torran flew back down to Akakios, and landed smoothly.

“We have another traveller.” He pointed in the direction of the woman. “Sulin informs me that she is a Falith-Hai…she looks to be in trouble…do you think we should help her?” Akakios looked dubious about another companion but he nodded anyway.

“If she’s ill, we should really help her…although we don’t have to travel with her, right? If she’s coming from Marrustil, surely she won’t want to go back…” He looked very hopeful at this.

“Sulin, would you fly ahead, introduce us and find out whether she’s hostile…?” He grumbled slightly at this, but flapped off in a straight line.

Torran wondered as they walked.

“Who do you think she is?”

[Emotional Faun Chiko-sai]

Funny how I keep thinking of computers and the Internet when I write about the Otherworldwide Wrong Soul Mindspeak Congregation... >_>
Note: The whole first part of the post before the asterisk is skippable; it doesn't contain any character interaction or much plot advancement at all. I was indulging myself and expanding on Tailen and Ortze's family, again. *hides*

Erensuge, Ortze Tximistari
"By the pricking of my thumbs
Something wicked this way comes..."
------------------------------

Thalatte, who was tall and regal, with dark hair knotted at the very end into a jade ring, confounded most people with her silence. It was not known whether the silence was merely habitual or if she was truly unable to speak. She had found it convenient from a young age to leave all the talking to Sorguiñ, and concentrated solely on the making of beautiful wreaths for all occasions, festooned with ample lashings of the wisteria Zivena. She decorated whenever there were festivals. She had two dusky birthmarks like smudges of soot, nestled above the arches of her downy eyebrows.

The quiet of her home was filled with the rich fragrance of wisteria blossoms. A half-finished wedding wreath lay discarded on the floor as she rose to greet Ortze; it was picked up by Devana, who added a few blooms of her own, garishly red among the soft blue of the vines.

"Told you he's back," she said, when Thalatte looked to her with an expression of mild disbelief.

As Ortze returned her hug she looked at him questioningly, as if there were something she could not quite put her finger upon; he stared back at her unblinkingly, his dark eyes trying to persuade her that her doubt was unfounded, and for the moment she let the matter rest.

- That was a close one, boy. The quiet ones are usually the most observant-
- Shut up.
- Please yourself. But you lie all the time, even when I do not do it for you. Do not put all the blame on me.
- Not like that... I... I don't like to lie to my aunts. It's wrong.
- So you would tell them all that I am here, inside you? You would, wouldn't you? Go ahead. I will merely have to deal with more of them, and I am not averse to the idea. I could bring more of my like to live in their bodies. You know I could. If I wanted to.
- ...shut up.

Erensuge smiled.

Sorguiñ poked her sharp head through the flap in Thalatte's roof. She lived on the branch just above Thalatte, and their huts were joined together by a steady bridge of wisteria vines. Comparing the both of them you would not believe that they were twins. Everything about Sorguiñ was birdlike: the manner in which she moved, in a hopping, perching gait; the set of her features; the way she cocked her head to the side when she was paying attention. She spoke in a high, lilting voice. She was one of the numerous herb-healers in the city, although one that had access to the best materials, being the Elder's daughter.

She looked and acted older than she actually was, and was bonded with Morena, a monkshood plant, twined about her spindly ankle. Birds visited her, often - her rafters were always full of feathered tenants. She was generally the one who received Ortze's pigeon-letters, and delivered them to her family.

"Orci, my lamb, my pet," she said, taking his hand and patting it in an absent manner. "You are so thin. You cannot have eaten well for days. Come and have a taste - a sup - a nibble at my place. All is in here is only Tala's flowers. Good for little bite but not for a great big one like you. You come. Yes?"

Inside Ortze Erensuge's lip curled in disdain, possibly because of his inherent dislike of anything remotely avian.

When Eguzki-Lorea heard about it in his hall at the top of the baobab tree he goggled, predictably. He fixed his best diplomat's piercing glare on Ortze, who seemed rather less rebellious than usual and even contemplative. He told him, in no uncertain terms, that the instant he received any remotely offended letters from the Tximistari family, that he would send him packing right back to Telone. Lastly he asked him, in less diplomatic tones, what in the world was happening in Telone to send a good quarter of its population to Tailen, to which he was given a confusing and convoluted reply which included the word 'holiday'.

Out in the woods that surrounded the city-state the trees rustled, and the rushes by the lakes whispered, and word was passed on...

Sweet aunt Axular, in her glen of lilies, heard the news, and the flowers in her garden burst into glorious bloom.
By the stone circle popularly called the Whispering Knights dark Mari paused, and her face clouded over, uncertainly.
Tomboyish Zuberoa, teaching a young Falith boy to spar, stopped in the middle of her complex movement, and hurried back to the Tree.
Watery Lamia in her own lake bobbed to the surface and assumed a thoughtful look, not far from the main Lake Tailen.
Laminak was in her father's hall when Eguzki-Lorea questioned his errant grandson, and laughed till she cried.
Iduzki fared no better, for all her long years in the field of midwifery.
Mesembria, watched by a crowd of whom the majority was male, danced the August Dance in her bower of frangipani in the main district of the city, and a little smile came to her lips.
Through the forests like a sylph moved wild Aray with her wolves, and she was making with all haste to the city gates.

And lastly Ilargia woke properly for the first time in weeks when her cereus muttered into her ear the good tidings, and the spark came back into her faraway eyes.

*

That night, as Ortze slept drunk with happiness (having been over-spoilt by his aunts in every sense of the word), Erensuge remained awake. He was, as Ortze would surely have called it, Connecting. Sometimes he listened, and sometimes he spoke. And after the connection was broken off by the other party he thought, for a time.

The boy would surely see his mother tomorrow, and so his hand would be forced to move rather quicker than he had originally intended. He had seen the mistress of poisons earlier in the evening; he knew her by the delicate waft of toxin that hovered about her like a shadow, but she had not made any move that threatened his secrecy, as far as he had noticed. From time to time he had detected her subtle gaze, presumably looking for physical changes in her nephew.

Yet the mother definitely knew. He had not the least doubt that when the visit was made she would not hesitate to scream her anger against his invasion of her son's body to the world. Mothers tended to.

In the cool of the night Erensuge's thoughts were perfectly lucid. So what if she made it known? It would be dismissed as the ramblings of a diseased mind, the suspicions of a lunatic. The state of her mind, tortuous as it was, would make it all the easier to evict her soul from its shell and install another in its place, though Tailen was far from the Border. If he played his cards carefully he would never need to waste a body.

Then there was the offer, made by the Rae, a soul that was as slippery as his race usually were. Not that he was really considering it - he told himself this firmly - but he couldn't deny that it was tempting. The Rae had tasted dusty as a decaying book, and his resident soul seemed completely cowed. He couldn't say that he approved of the ingrate's leniency. Perhaps he had his reasons. In a fight Erensuge knew he would have the upper hand if it came to sheer power, but he was not so sure that he could out-think the Rae in a close spot.

The baobab tree would not be leafing for a good two months or more. And in the hollow at the back of the tree which had once been the front...

(the worship of the trees began when all was desert and the only water to be had in the dry months was from their trunks, spineless and hardy. tribes come and tribes go, but the trees remain constant, through time and toil; whole races die off in the faces of the trees, and new races rise up, and all these recognise the greatness of the trees. and even those who worshiped others such as snakes made the trees points of pilgrimage, so that the belief accumulates as water does in the great swollen barrel-trunk; and even those who have never heard of each other see that the trees are important. and the rituals remain the same, though they know not why, and the ashes of leaders are interred in the trees, away from the cruel cracked ground; and the belief keeps the tree alive though it was dead long ago)

There was only one tree now, as there was only one in his time, and as much as he ever respected anyone or anything, Erensuge respected the tree.

That was why it would make him feel so much better when he killed it, and killed the city of Tailen along with it. It takes a lot to kill such a tree, especially in so short a time, but Erensuge was absolutely certain he could do it; and maybe the echo of this complete certainty was what led Ortze to be so certain himself that Erensuge was stark raving mad.

And how would he kill it? He was so pleased with himself for having theorised his method to death and still hadn't found anything wrong with it; he did not want to think about it, now, in case the power of his idea sent echoes to Ortze and woke him up. He would think about it quietly when Ortze was occupied with his aunts, as he always was. The boy practically lived in a lecher's assortment of preferred women; there was one for every fetish. They swarmed around him like drones around a queen bee, and none of them yet married. What a waste of women.

Erensuge rather liked women. He had liked it when the women came to the temple on the night before their weddings, when the first man that came upon them then had the right to take them. Those were the days. If this boy was to be believed, there were such feelings as 'love' and 'acceptance' requisite before any relationship could be started, in this new age of fools.

Now the question was: could he control the boy by himself? Assuredly he could check him in short bursts, through humiliation or grisly mental images. Confidence he had in bags. Overconfidence was something to be wary of.

He sent on a light hint to the Rae, in any case. The slimy bugger might be interested to know that baobab leaves would not be in season for a good while yet.
------------------------
I will stop doing dirty old man Erensuge and actually write something in Ortze's POV next post. Really. *shifty look*

[Weasel Overlord]

In case you were wondering, Tsukasa has left, along with Kalad, so their characters are now expendable! ^^ Although I think Uul may have already laid claim to Kywin...

~Rhee’ualheu Mara Deiis’alu, Wrong Soul~

“So kill me for trying to help…” He was an ungrateful boy indeed. I had saved him from Uul, who would no doubt have killed him as soon as he ran out of usefulness. And I had saved him from myself, the more dangerous in my opinion.

I spat after him as he slammed the door, and turned my attentions to the open window, through which Uul had gone, floating on the wind on his dusty wings. Leaning out slightly, I could still smell him. An adversary, and yet, so close at the same time. He had gone to Tailen. So far. And I still felt a part of him within my blood. It felt…dusty. Like old books. He left an odd taste in my mouth, blood, (ah, blood!) and dust, unsurprisingly.

Ah, I could feel him moving away from me. His blood became less strong, eventually being overtaken by my own. The rush left me and I collapsed to the floor, writhing in agony as my own cells began to expel the intruders. I could feel them rebuilding themselves, and I felt the destruction of every one of Uul’s cells until he was gone from me. I was purged.

Sitting up, I shook my head groggily. The shift always affected me like this, and it would be a while before I got back my full senses. I daren’t attempt flying for a while yet, although I was anxious to test out my newly acquired wings. In the blasted Demal girl’s body, they were feathered, but in the skies I would feel confidant enough to alter their appearance. Then the earth will tremble, for the last of the Lalli’huem will be free and thirsting for blood.

Ah yes, blood. I would need to make another sacrifice soon…it had been so long since I had sacrificed in flesh, and Uul’s blood, wonderful as it had been, was not enough to hold at bay my driving lust.

When the headache had passed, and I felt myself again, I stood and went to the window. I could no longer smell Uul, although I still felt the touch of his mind on mine. He had gone to Tailen…Every part of me strained to think what he could want there. He was a devious bastard, and he still had the original soul in his new body to contend with. I smiled smugly at this. The host soul in my body had been weak. So weak, that it had only taken the smallest extension of my magic to expel her after Uul’s talisman had done its trick.

Stretching out my wings, I concentrated. Pulling them in front of me, I ran my hands down every repulsive feather, changing its very essence into the leathery substance that Lalli’huem wings were composed of. The feathers became sails rimmed by slender bones; the crest of each wing tipped with deadly poison barbing that could kill within a few seconds. My wings glowed in the soft sunset, their green hue becoming darker as the light fell on them and the hints of silver adding a dangerous glimmer. Wings. Check.

Running my hands down the disgusting wavy hair of the host body, I pushed my power out of my palms. Each strand lengthened until it reached my calves, restored to its former length and colour, my hair glowed, like my wings, in the fading light of the sun. Hair. Check.

The last part of my change. My eyes. Ah, my beautiful eyes. I had been a coveted female in my time…all the Lalli’huem males asking for the pleasure of mating with me. None were good enough. My powers surpassed them all. Gazing into the glass of the window, I caught the reflection of my eyes as they changed. Before, a hideous pale grey colour, but now! Now they were restored. Black as pitch, with a green tinge that shone in the centre.

“Rhee’ualheu Mara is back! You shall all fear me!” I screamed to the skies and dived from the window ledge. My wings sailed out behind me, catching the wind as I fell and just before hitting the ground, I spread them, muscles screaming as they snapped back under the wind. Catching a thermal, I soared up and up. Towards the sunset. Marrustil lay in the East. And I had heard that the old High Guardian was heading there. That might have to be changed. Reaching back into my mind, I searched for any other Wrong Soul consciousnesses. One. A woman. She had left Marrustil and was heading towards Tailen for some reason unknown to me. Throwing my soul into her body for a second, I saw through her eyes.

A tiny dragon approaches, followed by a tall man with black hair and blackbird wings.

The High Guardian! I hissed in triumph and leapt back into her body.

He peers down towards me, it is like looking through a pool of water; his face is distorted, I cannot see his features clearly…

The woman collapsed, and I raced away in anger. It might have been him, but I hadn’t seen enough to be sure. Maybe there was safety in numbers, and as much as I hated admitting my dependence, it could be a useful tool against…others…

Turning on a thermal, my hair streaming in the wind, I headed for Tailen. I had an urge to taste Uul’s blood again, only this time, I wanted more!

[Plantae]

= Uuleuhuen =

It was hardly detectable, a mild pulse to show his disinterest in my offer, but he informed me that the tree would not be leafing for at least two months. I smirked, detracted, realizing how little I was a threat to him. Granted, a Wrong Soul was still a Wrong Soul, and the likeliness of my assassin's intentions to fall upon Erensuge was next to none. Still, I was given the feeling that he was nearly certain he could overpower me. This certainty disgusted me. A two hundred forty two year old man might be a two hundred and forty two year old man, but he is most certainly a two hundred and forty year old man. If you will, old is old, but old is most certainly aged, and experienced. I was not so certain of anything with this Erensuge, who wriggled underneath any attempts to pin down his exact intentions, but even among the wicked, he seemed of all things, prideful; there was a plan that was duly sinister behind that serpentine manner. Either way, he had informed me of something I already well knew.

Of course the tree would not be leafing soon. If it was coming so soon, I would have no difficulty accomplishing the objective I intended. However, I had still, in that moment, discarded need for the Elder dust. The true commodity was the leaves, and they would be nigh impossible to get. I needed no help to get into Tailen, no, what I needed was a Falith-Hai: Erensuge's problem soul. My intention had been to slip a few words in here, to change the deal, use a bit of subtlety to extract the information. But now... now it would take an occupation, a space of time in which to study the sacred structure of their city, before I could discover exactly where, where, the leaves I needed resided. Because it was so that I well knew that they kept a small supply of crushed leaf somewhere, from the olden days. The leaves did not rot as normal, hardly so... and when under the influence of Falith-Hai magic, flourished for centuries. I knew there was a deposit of them somewhere, but I would need to get very close to their leaders to have any chance of discovering it.

As if it was not the least of my problems, I had another trip to make, to Marrustil and an even more difficult task. I regretted that my mind was slightly more frustrated then I would have liked to actually try and comprehend exactly how that task would be accomplished. It was nigh impossible, surely. Still, it would have to be a step at a time. First, the leaves, then... then the other alchemical ingredients would be needed. Then... no... I must put all concentration on the task at hand, not the objective.

Then, then a glorious and grotesque shout, full of derision, shook my mind link and likely that of most Wrong Souls. "The High Guardian! I have found him, on the road here! He is just out of Marrustil. Oh, how I long to bring his demise..."

"Control your excitement, Kywin," muttered another voice. Then, it dissolved into nothingness as the conversation was made private. Still, with a single mental shout another thought had been injected into my mind. I realized, that out of all the Wrong Souls, I was likely the only one who did not want the High Guardian's head on a platter. Was it that simple, this separation? No, it must be the lore I possessed. I knew, indeed I knew, the uses of Torran Ylldier; he was not to be spoken lightly of either, as he still had power. My motives might be ill-fitting if he died, I realized, and though I would bet that this Kywin was only of slight experience, it would be to my benefit if he was warned; to find another person capable of accomplishing the deed I needed would be just as finding that small crack in the border had been. I mused then, because people were wrong to panic. There was nowhere near the entire capacity of that dead world, that gray curtain, perhaps hardly even a fragment. No, there was no invasion yet. Telone had been an accident, and had fallen only because the people had panicked.

I turned my thoughts again, and began scribbling a hasty telegram on a piece of spare parchment Ahuk had lying around in his inn room. The lamp was dimming, and flickered, but I managed to scribe a particularly distasteful summons.

Former High Guardian, Torran Ylldier...

I stopped, letting my pen trail a little here, searching for a scrap of information I had achieved that might be enough to catch his attention. Ah, yes. The name and nature of his companion, the unique being it was. I had picked up those whispers in my original search for a host, the parasitic wretch I was, and it came back to me now at a time of necessity.

Former High Guardian, Torran Ylldier and his Dragon Companion Sulin,

The Falith-Hai woman is a Wrong Soul and an assassin. How do I know? If I did not, would I also know that her aura is hazy? I suggest you leave her company immediately, if you currently have it, and be careful of your footing; there are likely to be more Wrong Souls on your tail.

Your grace, I ask that you meet me at the Pyilak Bloodfield, at this relative time of day, two days from now. If you do not know it, which I am nearly certain you do, it is just North of Rilamae. It is far too bleak to miss.

I have no reason for which you might trust me, but I have valuable news from Telone that you may wish to hear. Also, I would beseech you to have some courtesy considering the warning given. I would hope you could understand kindness between the miserable in such dark times.

Ahuk Oyohk, Rae and Warrior of the Laguayn Tribe

He was watching me, also, Ahuk, behind my eyelids, and was allowing this offense with some discretion. He knew well enough that he could not prohibit any of my actions, but, I still felt like I owed him some measure of knowledge and freedom. Guilt, strange as it was, weighed even on the heart of myself, who some might call a "practiced murderer." It was my livelihood, and I asked no one understand.

I folded the letter gently, realizing the near worthless parchment it was, sealing it with a plain black wax mixture. The true note was to remain fixed to the table, but I disbelieved it even to myself, allowing the animated illusion to float gently upward and hover with a certain suspense and alertness. Then, the window opened, and though it was truly shut, and the floating letter only an illusion, it mattered little. I pressed as much energy as I understood I could spare, which was nearly half of my power, into the parchment's flight path. The mental signature of Torran's image, stolen in mid-sentence from Kywin, was imprinted their and the writings would find their mark. There, they would fall open, displaying their contents no matter the inconvenience. It would take no more than several hours for the letter to reach its destination, illusion it was, but I would need to start the journey to the Pyilak Bloodfield at this moment or would not make it before he did.

With the indifferent sigh of a scholar who had mistakenly read the end of his tome before the beginning, I drifted into meditation as I jumped awkwardly through the window of the inn, sustaining a bludgeoning to the head by pure accident. My loss of energy had me off-balance. Then, in the form of floating sediment, I took to the fierce wind and followed the current, navigating the channels like a skilled captain; it was to the Southeast that I went with all speed. I would meet this Torran, and then I would travel to Tailen, hopefully before anything terrible should befall it. Even this, however, would not break my duty to the mission I had set myself on.

No one would have bothered to note, but even in my utter devotion, I had still managed to leave the price of my stay and a little extra coinage on the rough maple "nightstand" at the side of a poorly made and bug-ridden sheets upon a feather mattress that had long since lost its luster. And I knew, I knew, it would be scarcely noticed. It was a single candle going out in a brightly lit room, just like the death of one human in this other world; a single human life was of no value in the "big picture."

So curious was this world to Ahuk, so trite to me, and too melancholy for either of us.

=====

[Weasel Overlord]

Ah, I could have continued with this post for so long, although I have a lesson to go to now >< *kicks Classics*

~Torran Ylldier~
…letters and correspondence…

Akakios had no idea who the Falith woman was, and he said as much to Torran.

“I mean…how do we know she isn’t hostile? She might be some sort of evil being, come to take over our souls…” Akakios pulled a dramatic face at this, and Torran winced at how close to the truth he actually came.

“I doubt she wants our souls…” Torran’s dubious expression would only be relieved when they got up close, and he could take a look at her aura. Auras never lie.

They arrived to find her collapsed on the floor, bleeding slightly from a flesh wound on her leg. Obviously the heat of the day had added to her exhaustion, leading to inevitable collapse. Sulin was perched nearby, examining her with his head tilted to one side.

“What business do you think a Falith-Hai had in Marrustil?” Akakios clearly had trouble adjusting to the fact that Sulin could talk, and every time he did so, a shocked expression appeared on his face.

Torran shrugged and pouted slightly. “People can have business in other places than their homes, you know?” He gave a meaningful glance to Sulin and switched to mind-speech.

-Like us for example! Don’t draw so much attention to us…he might ask questions…I wouldn’t want to have to kill him…- He gave a wryful grin and bent to examine the woman.

The wound was only flesh, but it paid to be careful, so Torran pulled out a small pot of balm which he applied thinly to the surface of the cut.

“That should stem any poison…now, let’s have a look at her.”

Stepping back to get a full view of her aura, he closed his eyes to focus for a second. Opening them again, he gasped. Her aura was…blended…odd.

He passed his hand in front of his face, outlining where her aura should stop, but instead it carried on, melting into another. Hazy, Torran thought.

-I have never seen a hazy aura before…- He trailed off and examined it more carefully.
The colour was a mixture of deepest purple, similar to that he had sensed in his last days in Telone…and it was blended with an odd acidic green colour. Quickly searching his memory, Torran came up with no explanation for a hazy aura and he sat down with a thump. Sulin flapped over and took up his place in Torran’s lap.

“Why is it, do you think?”

“I have no idea…although, for some reason, it worries me…”

“Why should it worry you? Whatever itis…” He looked peeved at being left out of the conversation, so Torran gave him a swift explanation.

“I have Aura-sight. Have you heard of it?” Akakios looked blank, so Torran continued. “I read people’s auras…it helps me to find out whether they are trustworthy…” He broke off and smiled. “Your aura is green, if you were wondering…” He thought it prudent not to mention the shape.

“What does that mean?”

“A green aura means that I can trust you…It’s a sort of, telling character trait. You could liken it to reading a person’s deepest and most private thoughts, I suppose. Although I certainly am not privy to that!” He grinned. “I like thoughts to remain a secret. It is best for us all…is it not? Anyway…auras…” He was instantly cut off by what seemed to be a letter, whizzing through the sky to hit Torran in the eyes.

Leaving a small reddening line, the parchment fell to Torran’s lap, where Sulin pounced upon it and proffered it to Torran.

Rubbing his forehead ruefully, Torran slit open the letter, carefully examining the wax seal before doing so. It wasn’t one he recognised…

Former High Guardian, Torran Ylldier and his Dragon Companion Sulin,

The Falith-Hai woman is a Wrong Soul and an assassin. How do I know? If I did not, would I also know that her aura is hazy? I suggest you leave her company immediately, if you currently have it, and be careful of your footing; there are likely to be more Wrong Souls on your tail.

Your grace, I ask that you meet me at the Pyilak Bloodfield, at this relative time of day, two days from now. If you do not know it, which I am nearly certain you do, it is just North of Rilamae. It is far too bleak to miss.

I have no reason for which you might trust me, but I have valuable news from Telone that you may wish to hear. Also, I would beseech you to have some courtesy considering the warning given. I would hope you could understand kindness between the miserable in such dark times.

Ahuk Oyohk, Rae and Warrior of the Laguayn Tribe

How did he know? Torran gaped at the parchment and turned to Akakios.

“What do you make of this?” While Akakios read it, he turned once again to the prone Falith woman. And how did the sender, this Ahuk, know about her aura?

-Have you heard of this Laguayn Tribe?-
-Actually, I have, but only from your dusty studies long ago…remember?-

Torran racked his brain and came up with a blurred memory.

”The Laguayn Tribe were the greatest warriors of the Rae, holding battle-prowess in the highest regard, they were often the most skilled in magic too…Torran! Are you listening?”
“Sorry Rei. Carry on?”
“Okay then…this specific tribe were the ones who, long ago, waged war upon our species…Seriously, Torran, you need to know this!”
“But Reimaaax…I’m bored!”
“As the youngest High Guardian, you must show more guile and expertise than most to ensure the keeping of your position. You know the importance of your studies…”

Ah yes, Reimax had been the driest teacher Torran had ever experienced. Blinking back tears at the memory, he turned to Akakios.

“How does he know? About the Falith woman, I mean…and he has news of Telone.” He attempted to keep his face from lighting up. “Maybe we should go meet him…this, Ahuk. He could have valuable information….although, what to do with her…” He looked pointedly at the Falith-Hai, pondering.

“I say we kill her.”

“Sulin! I don’t hold with unnecessary killing, as you well know…”

“Well, this Ahuk says she is an assassin, yes? What’s to stop her, if we leave her here, from following us, and killing you then?”

“While you raise a good point, my charming companion, I continue to disagree with your bloodthirsty methods.” Looking at Akakios, I addressed him. “What do you think we should do with her?”

“Well…” He pondered. “I have a certain magic…I could set an illusion of our forms to leave for Marrustil. She may follow those, instead of us.” He looked at Sulin. “Although we’d need someone to cover our real trail, or my illusion would be nullified…”

“Okay, I get the point. Make your illusions, boy, but they had better be good. For if she even comes near to threatening Torran, it will be you I hold responsible…” He growled a little and huffed onto Torran’s shoulder.

[Drusilla]

Officially posting that I am dropping out. I've discussed with with Weasel, and there doesn't seem to be much point in my hovering around and trying to get time to post when I'm not even in the story line. *shrugs* I hate to drop, but I don't have enough time as it is...

[Plantae]

= Uuleuhuen =

It was far less glorious to travel in my sand form than it would be for a true avian, a Demal or even one of the far more ancient dragons... or Lalli'huem for that matter. However, I did enjoy a small sense of power as I floated over the landscape... but also one of propinquity. My state, as it was, and each time I took this particle form, invoked memories within me. And those memories, they were bounds worse than I had remembered.

Rushing fields, and streams below and on the horizon... forest and marsh, and plain and wintry mountain in a unified whole... this is the world as it was when I was younger. Beautiful.

Marching hordes and lava pits... the stench of sulfur on the wind, a bitter backdrop to an otherwise elegant landscape of green. It was here that my memories found a stronger connection.

Pyilak Bloodfield. It was here that one of the bloodiest and the most treacherous conflicts of the wars between the Rae and Demal had taken place. Or, as they were more accurately called, the Border Wars. A spectrum of colors... flows beyond my eyelids... faces, voices, smells and tastes of an old world... and then, it all is encompassed by a great white flash and then darkness again... the vision centers.

[Pyilak Bloodfield; 1077 (or 223 years prior)]

"Hold the line," wailed the failing voice of our squadron commander. "Do not break, for the primordial weave!" It was like him, to make jokes amidst a battle... he was engaged with two Demal this moment, each of which swooped and swaggered and swifted from point to point. But... his scimitar pervaded again and again amongst the fray, and it was for this reason that I respected him so. The Rae way had always been that the scum would never rise higher than the heroes. Regardless, the man very well knew, and it was a spark of humor despite his own distracted demeanor: this battle was not for our ancestors.

Any one man that had entered into war for the sum of one battle, if he did not die then, would soon understand its horrors. Why then did he continue it? I mused quietly, as I picked my way gently, offering some respect to the fallen from either side as my tan robes ambled behind. I had come to deplore them as it was, for it only made a Rae shaman a much easier target amongst the others. It was all a matter of luck that my body had not yet been pierced by an arrow.

"Hold it!" The shout came again against the drone, but it was a bit feebler this time, and I took chance to look. It was unwise, in retrospect, but brought me no injury at that present time. The scene that unfolded before my blood and sweat soaked eyelids (the sweat being the only liquid that was my own) was awkward, and in such a way incorrect. What was this happening here? But it was, oh it was, no mirage.

One Demal lay fallen at a side, but the other had now become the commander's sole rival. Spears, arrows, and all manner of projectiles and weapons whizzed between, beneath, and around them but they kept in a deadly lock of blades. If it had not been for the wings, they would have been almost mirrors of one another. Both held scimitars, both wearing leather hide (though the commander's was more worn), and both sporting countenances that relished the heat of the fray. The commander was a true soldier, one whose greatest wish was that he would fall on the rampage, rather than of some mundane manner that was not appropriate. As mesmerizing as the situation was, my eyes could and should have been averted but for one simple fact: with each step, the commander fell farther back. He was losing.

"Guilin," I muttered, across the blur that was the tide of this grudge match. "Ga-you-il-een!" With the increased volume, it did stand chance of striding the void made by the death of so many voices in the same place. He acknowledged me with a brief movement of his peripheral vision, but was so hardpressed that he could scarcely do so without fearing that his opponent's blade would sink into his arm here... or his thigh... or his stomach; I noticed the leather at this last location was in tatters. The Demal's armor was unscathed.

Death is never as you expect it to be. It was almost stolen from this man here. It was all but a gentlemanly gesture that the Demal made, a dainty swipe that could just as well have been the hankerchief scrubbing the raw nose. It was a contagion, almost, in these feathered fiends. They had a manner of aristocracy about them that made me want to vomit. There very air breathed that they had lost connection with the wheel of time, and all the creatures that called it home- even themselves. As it was, this small gesture of pity, like a poignant scoff amongst a brothel of wenches... it brought the hard reality of misery back to the face of the commander. It was to my great surprise, and almost as if I had not witnessed him fall, that my eyes found myself looking at a body on the ground... surely that slash across the neck... surely that could not be. It was, for whatever my eclectic mind denied it... the commander of the Laguayn Warband had gone from this world, and hopefully to the paradise beyond.

All across the way men stopped. Their eyes wrenched away as they noticed his now wretched form fall, the last bits of fire snuffed from his eyes. Out like a candle, and a pungent shockwave shot through the air; I shivered myself, and I could see that several men did the same.

Despite the sorrow, it did little to suppress the cruel cry of victory that emanated listlessly from the murderer's mouth. For that was all he was, and all we were as soldiers. It would be the next day of that same battle, though, that I would learn that the Demal had stepped further into gloom than I could have imagined.

[End Memory]

As I had rolled in the fire that was that exposition, the beginning of the motif of my trade and its reasons for coming into being, it had taken little time for me to reach my destination.

I had not eaten or slept, nor even touched ground for the past two days but I was here. And as I feel gently to the ground I noticed that he, the raven-feathered Torran Ylldier, was here too along with his dragon. I would even go so far as to say that I startled him as my form apparated a bare twenty feet from his wandering and impatient eyes.

I ignored him first and looked around. Gray mists surrounded the place, and dust that choked; Torran coughed presently even as I thought of it. The ground was black as soot, and the air was gloomy. It was exactly as I had remembered it with the addition that the soil here would never be fit for farming again. It was only so long before the blood of men soaked so thoroughly into the ground that even the local flora was too ensconced by the grotesque manner in which we humanoids treated each other that it began to refuse to even take root here. Cracks ran through the hard dirt, and freckles of rock and mortar, along with the remains of hastily constructed battlements. The strong smell of sulfur still pursued the place, even, and it was to my manic contentment that the Demal in front of my form was much discontented with his surroundings. His wings flapped with it, the small fear that shivered about his person, and even of that of his miniature but still majestic dragon companion. I could not blame him, considering the myths that shrouded places such as this. Maggots larger than a man that bit and tore into his flesh, and the malicious imp demons that were said to roam about leeching the blood of animals and any other passerby. There were worse legends, too, but it was unlikely that he had heard any of them. The Rae were more inclined to tell the whole truth than the Demal were, at least in this respect. No one, for example, would ever speak of the Lalli'huem... when the Demal had stooped so low as to allow them as mercenaries.

I was immediately aware of the boy's magic eye, which was thankfully distracted for the moment. I spoke to Ahuk briefly in my mind. "I apologize." Then, with a vicious yank that could have done well to separate mother from child, I tore Ahuk's remaining magical energy from him, twisted it about in my mind's eye, and projected it furiously in front of his and my soul. I knew well enough that the High Guardian possessed aura sight, and now, looking upon me, he would reach more than one conclusion. For, beyond his eyelids, as he stared at me in this form, he would not see haze. Instead, it would be a glaring brightness of harsh gray light. He would cover his magic presence in shock, as the glare caught him unaware.

"I appreciate your coming and trust you did well with the assassin." He eyed me shiftily, but felt that in his coming here, it would have to be his first inclination to respond to my commentary. I would tell him what I knew of Telone, but not of the artifact in my pocket, nor of my own presence. I would speak as though Ahuk, a young man with hardly a sliver of a wisdom. I could not treat myself as ancient now, for fear of making myself obvious. Then, as the day grew longer, and the sun fell behind the clouds, I would slowly beguile him to the secrets of which I needed a revelation.

=====

[Weasel Overlord]

EVme, didn't mean to leave you out! I am sincerely sorry, and I hope that this post will give your character an objective!

~Rhee’ualheu Mara Deiis’alu, Wrong Soul~
…thirst…

Gliding on the thermals, I glanced down as I flew, my hair obscuring my vision slightly. Starting in surprise, I noticed a figure, obscure, walking.

Just walking, with his shoulders slumped and his head down. He looked sad, and I liked a sad person.

I licked my lips. Melancholy blood was my favourite type, and maybe this figure would oblige me with a taste.

Angling my wings down, I swept closer. As my eyesight adjusted, I braked slightly as I realised that it was none other than the boy, Zenzir. What a turn up for the books.

Banking, I flapped in font of him and hovered in the air, bowing in a mockery of the traditional Demal style.

Flicking my hand up in a nonchalant salute, I landed and folded my wings deftly.

“So, we meet again, eh boy?” An amused smirk played across my lips and I tried not to let my hunger show. “Tis fate indeed that brings us together, for if you meet someone twice in one day, it is no coincidence.” Zenzir looked dubious at my proclamation of fate’s hand in our meeting, but he held out his hand anyway, in a gesture of politeness.

“Mara.” He inclined his head respectfully and I smiled at him.

“It is well when boys know their place…now, where art thou headed?” Shaking his head ruefully, he glanced south and shrugged.

“I’m not sure, to be honest. I had thought about taking Telone but…” He trailed off, a wistful look in his eyes. “But I have no supporters…”

“How about you join me to Tailen? I am sure we could have a….ah, a fine time…” He looked unsure, but nodded sharply.

“Why not? I have no other duties to fulfil, and I hear that things are happening in Tailen that shouldn’t be missed…” I smiled as he looked me up and down with a jaundiced eye.

“You have changed somewhat since our last meeting…” The question was unspoken, but I answered it anyway.

“I despise the filthy body that I had the bad luck to be thrust into…” My thoughts turned to Uul again, inexorably, I seemed to be drawn to him…shaking my head, I dismissed it as an after-effect of his blood and turned my attentions back to Zenzir.

“I am the last surviving member of a race called the Lalli’huem...my people had, ah, a unique heritage…but we withered and died,” My tone became bitter at this, “Through the meddling of the Demal…” I spat the last word as if expelling rotten blood from my mouth, before catching his shocked expression. I had forgotten that his body and soul were Demal.

“Ah, I meant no insult, bo…ah, Zenzir…that was long ago…” Too long for my liking, I added under my breath. Ah, how I longed to restore my race! But that would never be possible. Only the Demal scum remained now…

Shaking his head, Zenzir hid a look of confusion with a smile. Ah, I could smell his sweet, young blood from where I was stood…

But that was for later…

Now, however, I would concentrate on reaching Tailen, and gathering my Wrong Soul companions in a single place…

“Let us set out then. I presume you do not object to flight…?” I spread my magnificent wings in sadness, knowing that they were only a shadow of their flesh, and sprang into the air. Without waiting to see if he was following, I headed off in the direction of Tailen; West and a touch South, my wings stretching as I rode the thermals, their rhythmic beat soothing in my ears…

Flightsound always reminded me of a heartbeat…

[Plantae]

= Uuleuhuen =

[Pyilak Bloodfield; 1077 (or 223 years prior)]

The day was as any other: the torrent of battle and the death wails of fallen and injured soldiers. The fall of our commander the day prior still weighed on our hearts, all of us in the regiment, the warband of the Laguayn. The Rae lines held, in his honor, but there was little more than pure military prowess holding them.

And what fight was this, anyway? It was most certainly the Demal's. We had suggested kindly that the border be dismantled, as our shamans recognized that some of the Rae souls were being redirected... our diplomacy, a rare gift amongst the savage race we regrettably were, was tossed aside. The Demal, at mention of their wall being removed, had sprung into war with fervor.

This site was particularly potent because it was one of the sites of binding, where the Demal who had lived in the region far before we Rae migrated here had poured power which held the border. We less cared about the site than was thought, but we could hardly let it stay occupied by the hostile Demal. Rilamae, our outlying Rae village, was a short distance from here. The town itself housed a fair amount of our population, and it would be devastating, considering that there was no Rae military presence in the area. Our forces themselves were made of militia, but still: Rilamae was a settlement that primarily belonged to frontiersman and traders. We could take no risk in them burning it to the ground, as they were likely to so they might assure themselves control.

The actual site of binding was a fair distance underground, sealed so that it would take our mages (myself one of them) years upon years to pry through the runes that protected its depths. The Demal had left themselves backdoors to such things long ago, so it was our objective to forcibly cause them to disenchant their monstrosity. With each passing year, the border itself grew stronger, and if it was not removed, many more Rae souls would find themselves beyond it.

Our impression of the Demal had been obviously biased before, and we thought them snobbish as they thought us barbaric, but we had always been on friendly terms with one another. But... there lack of moral character had begun to rear its head increasingly. Such as the surprise that had intimidated even the strong-willed of our sect: they had recruited some of the remaining Lalli'huem as mercenaries.

Granted, they were almost extinct. The Demal, though we knew little of the details, had set about eradicating those centuries before. They were quite obviously insane creatures, demonic winged beings who were the very opposite of the "purity" and "beauty" of the Demal. They were like great bats, devilish and hideous to all rights, and needlessly obsessed by blood. They carried themselves a frequently terrible reputation for this particular trait, and were such the stuffs of the stories told to scare young children to be obedient to their parent's wishes. The Demal had a hard time eradicating them in the first place, simply because they had been allowed a shortcut; demonic power gives an instant gratification in magic. The Demal quite frequently lived up to their rumors, which was quite arguably the most horrific variable surrounding them.

It was possible that the number of these "creatures" in the Demal's employ was very few; so few were this that our spies must have been lucky to procure the information. The Demal were likely to betray these allies when the war ended, but it was the weakness of the Lalli'huem that they felt need to follow their noses to bloodshed. Of course, it was again arguable whether this was a weakness, or a means for frenzying among them; it was a trait that only exemplified their very nature of evil.

Regardless of how exactly you might explain their reputation, I found myself mortified when one stepped into my line of vision. With each stride she seemed to kill one of our soldiers, often beheading them gruesomely in such a brutal and vorpal quality that it made my head spin from sickness. I felt it my duty as one of the highest ranked in our phalanx to take to her, even though my mind begged me not to, seeing her furiously manipulating both dagger and claw with forte. She was a deadly enemy, glorious but venomous green wings spotted with silver, and hair and eyes dark like her demeanor. She carried the quality of velvet, a crimson harpy with hair that flowed about in her movements to far of alacrity to be a human's. The closer I drew to her, and the closer she came to meeting me, the more I was fascinated and fearing of her intricate dance of morbid nature.

Finally, when we were within ten feet of one another, she noticed me about the same moment she guillotined a nearby Rae soldier. I flinched as this happened, but she merely smiled, both malignant and insane. Her teeth appeared almost razor-like in the odd light across the battlefield. Our eyes lay fixed upon each other, so concentrated that neither of us blinked. She scanned me, sizing me up, as I had done her, and must have been smart enough to gauge the intelligence in my eyes and the spellcaster's air about me with her sixth sense, for she refused to take her gaze off of me. She strode through the gallantry of the aristocrat Demal about her, who eyed her with a disgust that she ignored, and it was a mere second before she stood only two feet away.

"On guard?" She laughed, and with effortless grace, stabbed out at me with her dagger as if she was playing a game. The rest of the battle phased away, and I brought my kukri up in a display of Rae Iugk that was what a trainer would call "acceptable." To gain an "acceptable" from a Rae trainer was as close as you would ever get to "perfect," so it was a high honor. Her eyes grinned viciously as the parry came just in time; she was giddy with the smell of blood. "So, a knife fight interests you?"

It was entrancing, an ensorcelled jig between her and me, the two who attracted even those other soldiers to watching. Neither of us left focus on the other; she was obviously older and more experienced than I, so each fall of her blade came almost too quick for me to block. Our blades grated against each other time and time again, like two performing gypsies with our jambiyas. She taunted me at each turn of the knives, mimicking each of my parries with ones more inclined than mine, and putting us at such a stalemate that we waltzed in a circle. We jabbed here and there, and though I was sweating profusely, it brought delight to me to see a single bead of it drop from her forehead. With this new confidence, I pulled a small bit of dust airborne, forcing my blade upward to the slightest angle on my next strike. This time, my aim was true as the mix of magic and martial proficiency climaxed in a small, shallow cut against the hand that held her blade.

"You chose to bring magic into this duel," she said, making sure such was true for the record. At that statement, her hand healed near instantaneously. I tried to suppress my shock, and realized that I was not allowed to falter. She took to me again, and this time their was something precognitive about her movements. I could not get in a blow edgewise, not even a counter strike that was effortless parried, and I soon found myself backing up under a flurry of quick maneuvers on her part. She was predicting everything with a glint of foresight in her eye, and I felt myself hard-pressed to stop her from bring her barbed dagger up to sever my hand. It would have been a much greater blow on her part than the small cut that had been afforded me, but I was thankful that I was allowed just enough time to respond reflexively, collapsing in a pile of dust at her feet and soaking into the Earth.

A fair amount of my energy had been expended by this, but she had overextended herself with her precognition. She breathed heavily for a few seconds, and then began to whisper threats. "I will feast upon you once you are felled, young maggot Rae." And then, more vehemently, she added, "I will not stand to battle with a coward who hides away."

I was angered by that comment, and rose along her clothing as a twister of soot, finding myself into her eyes and nose and ears, blinding and deafening her, and causing her to reel and shake her head profusely in an attempt to dispel me. "The name is Uuleuhuen," I allowed her, as I twisted about her insides, searing her eyes with dust. Her will, however, proved too strong, and I was pushed out of her and dispelled to normal form, as we both panted; our weapons slid slowly, almost falling from our hands.

"Mine is Rhee’ualheu Mara Deiis’alu, you Rae scum, and be sure that I will never be felled by you." She said this between long, deep breaths, and wheezing to expel the remaining dust and soot in her system. However, I was in much a similar condition, and could do little to take advantage of her decrepit state. We had both done significant damage to the other, in terms of energy, in a very short amount of time. We both stood there paused for moments, until the cry of Demal forces was heard over the din. "Retreat!" It was bellowed a high tenor voice, a feathered man from the back, an archer with blue robes and an air of defiance to him. The cry came again, from various places, and Mara finally realized her leave was necessary. "As much as I would like to bring you to your death, Uuleuhuen, it is now that I must take my exit. Until we meet again on the battlefront." With some reluctance, she gave one final line before she turned tail and flew the other direction to regrettably follow the retreating Demal. "You were a worthy adversary."

"Yourself also!" I yelled behind her, though I was not sure why it had been my compulsion to do so. I carried both a hatred and a respect for her, but maybe that was correct, considering the odd circumstances.

[End Memory]

=====

Yes, it is a bit of a filler, but one that was necessary for the Uuleuhuen and Mara characterization.

[Emotional Faun Chiko-sai]

Filler from me, too. *blames the TVB dramas, again* >< Well, there's a *little* interaction at the tail-end...
-----------------------
Ortze Tximistari (partly from the POV of Ilargia Eguzki-Lorea)
"Love is so short, forgetting is so long."
-----------------------------

She had not had a visitor outside of her sisters for many moons, but there was no mistaking this one. Not by any freak chance would she mistake him. That golden haze that her mind had not picked up on for months, years; that golden haze was singing again, singing to her, making her giddy and restive well before he entered her chambers proper, so that Mari had a hard time of it satisfying her questions and her fancies.

Mari had been at her side since that time, Mari in her old white dress and her expressionless face.

Ortze, of the golden haze! Ortze born on the day with the most sun. Ortze with his father's red hair. Ortze, but he was slightly different.

Tainted, as it were.

Ortze stooped as he moved through the warren-like passages, designed for persons smaller than him, and wingless to boot. The tips of his seagull's wings scraped at the ceiling of the tunnel, occasionally dislodging soft pieces of earth which crumbled as they fell. There were lanterns at appropriate intermissions in the tunnel, lit from within by glow-worms cultivated by the Falith: fires were dangerous in this enclosed underground space.

Erensuge seemed to be in hibernation. He was barely there, the azure serpent no longer clear in Ortze's mind, but faded and distant. Ortze himself had had a good week - running with the deer, hunting with the wolf-pack, scaling the tops of trees throwing down epiphytic plants and rare leaves to his witch-aunt Sorguiñ. He had sparred with Zuberoa, danced with Mesembria, spent time enough with the rest of them. And now, at midnight, when the cereus Uroda bloomed, he was going to see his mother.

Only when the passages widened out to form a small chamber, the door a wireframe of thick bramble, did Ortze see a lantern with real fire lighting it. Mari explained that fire was allowed only here when she was around to watch it. They did not want a risk of Ilargia hurting herself in one of her occasional fits, least of all here where most things were extremely flammable.

Ilargia had still a trace of beauty left about her, like the most delicate of faded flowers. Her white hair glowed luminous in the light from the flickering lantern. Ortze saw that her cheeks were sunken, and deep creases had appeared at all the places that they shouldn't be. Uroda's blooms were slightly wilted, yet they had opened scarcely an hour before. The cactus was now wound lax about his mother's arms and abdomen, but there was a suggestion of tautness that promised due binding of limbs should Ilargia relapse.

The brambles slid back at a gesture from Mari, and Ilargia came alive.

"My golden haze, my Ortze," she said, embracing her son, while her cactus removed its prickly thorns to a more suitable area; in the incident that no one now wished to remember these thorns had been the cause of the unfortunate scarring of the chest of Ortze Tximistari. "How are you? Do you eat well? Do the Tximistari dogs respect your will?"

"I am fine, mother. But-"

"Dearest golden Ortze, a shadow hangs over your countenance. Why is this? Is it - is it because of the Incident? Please, think not of it. I was trying to save you, as best as I knew how at the time. What could you know? [iHow[/i] could you know? That life is not as it seems? That the blackness will consume you when you love someone too much? I saw you, in your innocence, and you did not know. Better then to do it while you were still ignorant of the pain. I swore to myself that pain would never touch you- never- never-"

She was sobbing, now, and Ortze, not knowing how to deal with a mother left for too long, took her hand in his and patted her back, and wiped her face with Mari's discreetly handed handkerchief. Usually ready with a flurry of words, he was speechless now.

Across Ilargia's tortured vision flashed a glint of green. Serpently green, with slit pupils.

She screeched, and scratched with broken nails, so that Erensuge retreated with the greatest of alarm back into the recesses of Ortze's mind, and Ortze recoiled physically from his mother, now restrained by the prickly Uroda. Mari was on guard, and pushed her nephew back further, though she made sure that it was her nephew and not the Wrong Soul he harboured first. Then she dosed her struggling sister with laudanum.

Later, when they were trudging back through the catacombs, Mari reached out and fingered the pouch at Ortze's throat: he knew she could feel her phial, her poison, her worst case scenario; and for now she was satisfied.

Erensuge piled his coils upon coils upon coils, thinking that it would be just dem' fine if he could get himself out from the accursed body of this accursed boy and into the less accursed but still unpalatable body of the boy's grandfather, a body more accustomed to a mind such as his that thought less in corkscrews and more in crooked lines, after he had concluded his master plan. He had spent his week pondering and occasionally toying with the idea of double-bluffing the Rae (because doubtlessly the Rae would be double-bluffing him, nothing in life came quite so easily) out of his Periapt.

But firstly, he would have to deal with the onslaught of Souls to Tailen that he was feeling in his mind. Of course, of course they could come - but they should be coming later, later, when he had taken the kingdom: now they would be in the way.

In his experience, however, nuisances could be turned around to rectify their mistakes.

There was one approaching Tailen, now. A powerful one. Old, but he was older. Female. Wicked to the core.

- Hail, mistress. Who are you, that comes in such haste to Tailen?
- I am Mara.