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

[EVme15]

OMG I AM SO SORRY!!! I promised a post when I came back from Florida, and then I had about three times as much homework as I expected, and then Christmas and then I couldn’t get on TPM...
I’ll stop giving excuses now.
But really, I really wish I had this written sooner. -_-;;;
~|~|~|~|~
Tevam Ryllena
- Zenzir Maeniy -

Somehow Nattye had convinced me to leave Telone with her. I don’t even remember it happening. I continually went over the past hour, trying to figure out how this girl had suddenly showed up again and pulled me out of the city without me even realizing it. And now she lay next to me, sound asleep. If she was so eager to leave Telone, then she probably should have rested first. There was no protection out here, which is probably why she dragged me along. She had been caught up in all the fear, leaving as soon as she had convinced me to accompany her.

I stood up, readying my wings for flight. It would be a lot easier to survive if she wasn’t burdening me down. Over the rustling I heard her stir. “Tevam? What are you doing?”

“I thought I saw something.”

I wasn’t sure whether she had bought my excuse or not; it was hard to tell behind her sleepy expression. Either way, she lay down and was soon asleep again. So I couldn’t fly until I had gotten away from her.

With a soft sigh, I started away on foot. It was her decision, let her rely on herself. I had no obligation to this Demal, anyway. If I was to get anywhere without being mauled by some creature, I had to move as fast as I could.

It was only a short while later that I heard the sound of wings, and soon after a figure landed in front of me. A combination of familiarity and lack thereof hit me at once, and it wasn’t until the female before me spoke that I realized whom it was. “So, we meet again, eh boy? Tis fate indeed that brings us together, for if you meet someone twice in one day, it is no coincidence.”

“Mara.” No matter how little interaction I had with her previously, there was something about this woman that set her apart from everyone else. She was one to be feared, that much was obvious.

“It is well when boys know their place...” As I thought, she looked down on me. As long as I was alive, though, I didn’t mind it. “Now, where art thou headed?”

I wish I knew myself, I mumbled in my head, yet again wondering how Nattye pulled me out here. “I’m not sure, to be honest. I had thought about taking Telone, but...” I couldn’t admit my weakness so openly around this female. “But I have no supporters...”
“How about you join me to Tailen? I am sure we could have... a fine time.” I accepted almost immediately, glad for the chance at having someone around should... anything go wrong. Although Mara was not the sort of person I’d trust...

“Why not? I have no other duties to fulfill,” I reflected on some of the things I’d been told, “and I hear that things are happening in Tailen that shouldn’t be missed...”

I found myself second-guessing my judgment, wondering if I would indeed be safe traveling with her. And it wasn’t the wild creatures I was worried about this time. I studied her again, and she smiled as I did so. I suppressed an uneasy shiver and focused instead on my curiosity. “You have changed somewhat since our last meeting...”

“I despise the filthy body that I had the bad luck to be thrust into.” So she had a talent with illusions. That would explain her new appearance. “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... Through the meddling of the Demal...” The hatred with which she said “Demal” caught me by surprise... it must have been quite an incident for her to harbor so much anger towards them.

“Ah, I meant no insult, bo... Zenzir... that was long ago...” I shook my head and smiled, trying to show I wasn’t offended, and also to hide the confusion her story had brought up. Lalli’huem? That sounded vaguely familiar... and for some reason, it wasn’t comforting.

“Let us set out then. I presume you do not object to flight?” She was off before I could reply. I watched her adjust her course, knowing that she was heading in the right direction. I had to be far enough from Tevam’s sister, she would not hear if I was to take to the skies. Slowly, and admittedly with a lot less grace than Mara had done, I took off and followed. I stayed a respectful distance behind, letting her lead.

“Mara, do you know what...? Mara?” But her concentration was elsewhere.

[Weasel Overlord]

EVme! Welcome back dear! I'm glad you're here, you know, and I don't mind your absence, you quite clearly had a reason! ^^ And, you're back! Hooray! Another non-existent character would have been annoying...anyway, I shall deal with your interactions in my next post, for now, this is for Plantae! UBER-post of woe!!!! Ahem...I mean...yeah...I need to catch up after crimboderry.

~Torran Ylldier~

It hadn’t taken as long as Torran had thought to get to the designated meeting area, where he found the enigma who was a façade of smiles on the outside but tangled on the inside into an unrecognisable parody of a Rae.

He shuddered on the inside at the thought of facing one of the Demal’s lifelong enemies and not slaughtering him on sight, but it couldn’t be helped and Sulin’s calming voice settled Torran enough so that the whites of his eyes weren’t showing, leaving him to wonder, in his new clarity, what exactly it was that this mysterious character wanted of him.

It was probably information, which, while heartening to know that the Rae didn’t understand all, was still alarming. Who this person was would take much deliberation, and Torran, being snubbed from the strange shifts in the boy’s aura, was confused for the first time since he had made High Guardian.

"I appreciate your coming and trust you did well with the assassin." Ah yes, her. They had left her with a series of extremely confusing images, all leaving in a series of very confusing directions and a set of criss-crossing tracks. She would do well to get herself out of that tangle, and Akakios was particularly proud of himself for this feat of illusion.

Torran nodded his assent, and awaited his information, for had not the letter promised news of Telone? His eagerness must have shown, for the stranger began to speak.

“Of Telone, which I am sure you are anxious to know of. Telone has fallen. The Border is, ah, falling, that is to say, souls are escaping as we speak.” He looked around, wild-eyed, as if he expected one of these souls to spring out of the ground and accost him. “And I think that they are to be feared. A lifetime behind those walls and more will do nothing for the sanity of one’s mind and I fear that the souls may well be bloodthirsty for revenge.” His eyes glinted slightly at this, but Torran was too intent on the consequences of the Border’s inevitable fall to notice.

“The fall of the Border. Dire times are upon us indeed if the Demal cannot defend their own. What do you intend to do about this grave matter?” Torran looked up, shocked at the implications this boy was making.

“I...I am nothing to Telone. Why should I do anything?” He scowled and Sulin bared his teeth from his vantage point.

“Now now, I am no threat to you.” He inclined his head at Sulin. “Or your little dragon. I just presumed that a former High Guardian would feel some empathy with his people’s sufferings. They are suffering, you know. Greatly, in fact...” Torran, despite his Guardian’s training, almost let his emotions slip at this release of information. So there was someone who knew he was High Guardian. He twitched slightly at the mention of his people, his brother’s voice always at the back of his mind, pressing morals and beliefs until they became dogma. But sometimes...Reimax had sounded, almost, well, unsure of what he taught. Sometimes, it was as if he didn’t believe the dogma himself, and this feeling seemed to trickle into Torran, for he had suspicions that his people weren’t all they said they were. Despite his time in power, he had still not found the answers he had sworn to find...sworn to Rei...

Dashing his eyes, he composed himself and began to breathe in and out deeply to sharpen his thinking. He would surely need his wits when talking with this stranger.

“They...the people of Telone are my own no longer. I was High Guardian, but I wish to speak no more of the happenings just before I left. What is it you are wanting to know? And first, I think I should know your name, as you clearly already know of me.”

“My name is Ahuk Oyohk.”

“And I am Torran Ylldier, last of the High Guardians of Telone if what you say is the truth. This,” He motioned to Sulin. “Is Sulin Slytewing, my Spirit Guide and companion.” Sulin flapped his wings desultorily in Ahuk’s direction. He had already decided that he disliked this strange boy who spoke as if he were an elder, and he lost no time telling Torran what he thought over their mind-link.

-He’s not to be trusted you know...-
-Yes, I know. Let us see what information he has before you go clawing at him, okay?-
-Hrrph. It would be simpler for me to get him first. Ask questions later, like Rei used to do...you’ve become soft.-

This last was a statement that stung Torran, but he knew it was true. Since he had left Telone, he had become soft, as Sulin so lightly put it. Shrugging his discomfort off, he glared straight at Ahuk and settled his wings, which were agitating in the light breeze.

“What exactly is it you wish to know, Ahuk? For I shall have you know, I shall not tolerate deception, and Sulin certainly shall not tolerate you for much longer unless you explain what you are about.”

Ahuk smirked, a discomfiting sight that left Torran’s wings stressing again.

“It is simple, I want to know about the Border. I want to help you.” He spread his hands in a disarming gesture and smiled, a single eyebrow raised. “Surely one of such high status as yourself will know the details...” He tailed off, and Torran realised just how little he actually did know. The Border, well, it had been created long before his birth. His function was to guide the souls on their journey to the Border so they stayed true to the path, and did not stray into the void, where a sure and painful death awaited them. Despite his standing in Demal society, there were other still higher. Only a select few, but their power was immeasurable, and, as High Guardian, Torran had only met them once. Even then, they had been shrouded in darkness and heavy cowls, twisting incense smoke fogging the air so it was hard to breathe, let alone see the mysterious elders. All Torran knew about them was this: they were very, very old. And, according to Rei, likely to crumble in a high wind. And to top it off, no one knew why they were there. Unlikely to be ornaments, they were obviously something to do with the Border, or it’s creation, perhaps.

“There are three elders residing in Telone, probably even now. They know much more than myself, I can assure you. In fact, I would wager that they were the very creators of the Border itself.”

“Ah.” Ahuk tipped a finger at Torran. “If that is so, then why are they doing nothing to stop its fall? Surely, if these are the ones who created the Border, then they would be loathe to let it crack, let alone fall entirely.” Torran nodded thoughtfully. This Rae was proving to know more than he first appeared to. He had a sharp mind residing in his skull, that was for sure. And yet, he didn’t seem to be all that he said he was. Sulin was suspicious of him, and that was enough proof for Torran.

For now, however, he allowed himself to enjoy dallying information with Ahuk. Maybe something of use would come out of it. But, at the back of his mind...Torran felt that Tailen was the place to be.

[Plantae]

= Uuleuhuen =

The discussion with Torran, though it would seem pleasant and curt to an outside perspective, was going dismally. That, however, was not for the fact that I was garnering no useful information, but that my manner of treating myself as ancient was leaking out; I was, and have always been, less than good at deceiving.

My act of projecting Ahuk’s magic as a buffer was doing some good, but the particular problem was the companion, Sulin. I could tell by the look of the little bugger, for that he was, that there was an amount of aggression and dogmatic fever there that I would scarcely want to tamper with (or at least if I wanted to continue to talk freely with the Demal). The dragon brought another interesting and subjective question to mind, that being of his origin; there had long been tales of dragons, since the dawn of time, but to see one was an entirely different bit of folklore. Even in miniature, his lithe structure and glossy scales were easily primal and ferociously reptilian. If this one existed, was it not proof that the others may have existed as well? Of course, the answer to such a question was one long buried by the hourglass.

The real question, and the one that had haunted my mind since he had mentioned them, was just how difficult it would be to wriggle underneath the grasp of the elders or to even beat their power if they were truly the border’s creators? The most distinct echo beneath this was the single hanging fragment that had trailed Torran’s description of them. That was, of course, “they are powerful.” For how could they not be? Creating the border could have been no easy task, surely, and it was only the highest arcana that produced mistakes of such magnitude as it had become. I feared that even as an abomination, an unnatural and ungodly demi-human of a man I hoped to become, I might still need an amount of assistance to ensure success. Many more problems soon would arise, then, of who and how.

I could make no mistake at the hands of this guardian here. A slip-up surfacing in just the wrong words or a fall in my magical prowess might expose me and ruin all that I sought to construct.

As it was, this first goal… the one of greater importance as of the moment, seemed closer than it had only a few minutes ago; there was already a seed, a vicious concoction in the back of my brain that might slowly find the ability to germinate. That was then, however, and I was still pressed to find bait for the immediate situation. It was in this desperation that I revealed a snippet of information, a bit of blood to sate the animal’s tongue, the morsel I now contrived to dangle in front of Torran’s very nose. Could it work? Could it possibly? I was willing, now, to take the risk if the consequences were not dire.

It was with that thought that another slithered unhindered and uninvited into my consciousness… such was the depths of my disgust at it that I could hardly keep myself from saying, in bated breath and a harsh whisper of a hiss, “Erensuge…” It was my luck, for I observed both of them extremely carefully after I let such an incriminating word slip, that they did not notice in the slightest. The amount of happenstance I had been afforded lately, however, was beginning to make me paranoid; I knew, oh how I knew, how the world liked to play the game of irony with me. It would only be a matter of time before this other world’s vengeance would be reaped, and I would run into trouble that I could not so easily talk myself out of.

I laughed at the fact that the only reason this façade was so easily kept was because I had seemed to him to know so little about the border, and the Demal, and that this lack of information on my part gave me an amount of ignorance; this ignorance, it seemed, led to a small belief that I was even a little incompetent, and the boy had let his guard down enough that he suspected no more than that this stranger could be wicked. And then, it was that any stranger could be wicked, and my advantage was sound and good. If I was careful, and quiet, and played the trickster, I might manage to keep him in the dark as to just how aged and cruel and calculating I might be pronounced to be.

It made putting out my next comment all the more difficult, in which I saw the shortcomings immediately; I knew little of if it would raise his suspicions, or simply heighten his trust of me for telling him such a fact. Still, I plunged into the valley of the shadow, and I would fear no evil, because for now, I was the only bastard in sight. I allowed myself, then, despite any regrets I might later have, to mention to Torran this: “I know I am likely to be wasting your time more than a little here, high guardian and sir as is your proper address, but I do have more pressing news than that of the border falling even; for truth, it is, that the border itself is but one part of a more despicable countenance, that which the world, our world, now wears. It is with-“ and I paused just a second to let my features droop and a small sigh pass my lips, before continuing with an amount of histrionics, “- digress that I must tell you: I have reason to believe, for I am a little used to thinking contorted shapes, that a few of the wrong souls are headed to Tailen. You might have had the feeling yourself, of the growing blackness on the horizon that I can feel so well, but I have the sneaking suspicion that Telone will not be the last city to fall. Tailen, though it is only my humble attempt at foresight, may be in some danger.” At this announcement, he and Sulin both had matching expressions, which changed through the course of the speech, a mix of transfixed horror and curious suspicion, in which they could only mask what I thought might be an amount of interest with an equal proportion of alarm with the indifference expected of those who possessed their social station. Torran immediately opened his mouth to speak, quite possibly to ask me to confirm all I had said, but I interrupted him sooner than sound could escape his maw.

“And how do I know this, you probably ask, with proper reason, and think me insane or worse: evil…” I could see that this was some of the consensus at least, and took a deep breath before letting loose a sentence that would bring the wrath of someone I considered near the queen of the damned herself upon my head. “I have a due justification, because and only because, and this feeling of foreboding for the same reason, because I myself met a creature of such kind on the road: she was a Lalli’huem.”

Torran gawked immediately, and I knew full well that he would never have suspected that one still lived. I was never to tell him that it was my doing that had released her, but saying that she existed has the desired effect: he was temporarily ensorcelled, even if not Sulin, whose expression was impossible to read. This gave me the window, the window to make a suggestion that would not likely be considered unless I had him as a confidante. “Now,” I spoke with a degree of shock myself, but not for quite the same reason, and none of it to increase my deception’s power, “I do not represent the Rae. My purposes are not theirs, nor are they either of yours…” the watching eyes was enough to press me onward, to which I added, “But if you could be so kind, I have no intention of letting the scum of the Earth tear apart the fair city of the Falith-Hai, and if you would accompany me to Tailen, High Guardian Torran, I would be much obliged. For I fear, and we both know, that if the border is truly breaking at the seams that all measure of power will be needed to seal those demons away again. It is only to both our benefit that we travel together, sir, and so I ask this humble favor of you.” I ended, methodically running through the details, making sure nothing had slipped beneath my eye. This statement, declaration, request had to be perfect if the future I envisioned was to be secured.

My lips curled, but only on the inside at what I had done to him; I could never match that raw serpentine quality that this wrong soul, this terrible Erensuge seemed to possess, but I felt I had thrown a wrench in his machinations and if I had the ability it would be likely that he would never have any idea that it had been me to bring the high guardian to Tailen, or so it would be if I could now persuade him to come. It was quite likely, regardless, that Erensuge would be infallible in the face of it. And if he would come… he did have other uses…

Now Mara… if the high guardian was spurred to pursue her by that comment, I could scarcely tell if she would consider it an annoyance or a challenge. That was the essence of Mara, her unpredictability. However, knowing her as I did, I presumed the latter.

=====

[Plantae]

Lively, the lot of you are. I digress, I should have posted long before this. My apologies to you Kirsten.

= Uuleuhuen =

He did say yes, and at some level of my being I rejoiced. It was just entirely unnoticeable in my features, and I took the brunt of his answer with an indifference bordering on criminal.

“Everything is in order, then. We must leave immediately, if we stand any chance of reaching Tailen before something terrible is likely to befall it.”

“Have you considered that I can fly and you must walk, Ahuk?” Torran questioned, with just the slightest hint of condescension. I pretended I did not notice.

I did not hesitate but mentally, and merely voiced, “I have some talent to travel on the winds, you see. I may become a lighter substance, sand, or dust, and use the air currents to take me there. But yes, you are correct: as of this moment, I am forced to walk. It is likely that the winds should pick up, but you should be warned that we will be traveling relentlessly. And when I finally do use my magic,” and I made it theatrical, lamenting as if it was some weakness, “it will drain me almost entirely of energy. It is difficult to assume the form of something so small.”

He nodded in assent, understanding the difficulties of magic. He was, of course, high guardian. The dragon eyed me with a look that could only be described as sullen, though that was most likely due to the fact that I found a reptile’s expressions almost entirely foreign.

I began to add, quietly, as he was had walked to me by now. “You may fly to scout-“

“We will stay on the ground, stranger.” Sulin the dragon articulated this with some venom, and I feigned injury at the statement. I had expected no less of a trained mind. I was talking about the companion, of course. Torran… alone he was likely to allow that.

There was a brief pause in conversation, and I knew immediately the cause. I was educated enough in Telone’s lore to realize that this was the mind link, the telepathic bond between companion and guardian. I did not entirely know their opinions of me, but it was clear that one, Torran, possessed considerably more tolerance. It was also likely that Sulin’s intuition was quite often more correct than logic.

I was on the ropes, as it was; I knew they were suspicious of me, but I did not know how suspicious. That made the effort of dancing around the truth, and the secrets of the Border, all the more difficult.

“We will all travel on the road, then.” I remarked casually, for it had hardly disrupted a plan of any sort. Then, it possessed me, to say kindly, “Sulin I would prefer if you would cease to address me with such rudeness. I have saved your ‘master’ from an assassin, and you treat me with disdain? Surely you have not forgotten the manners of Telone’s elite so quickly.” It was true advice, and when I said kindly, I quite meant it; the dragon was an interesting character, and I respected him. Torran was not necessarily the same story.

He merely scoffed at me, and was not, even by a less than subtle elbowing, prodded to apologize or make any gesture of any sort. I did notice that he hid a bit more of his haughtiness, of which I was satisfied. I had to make the impression that I was at least somewhat gentlemanly, especially considering the reputation of the Rae.

From that moment we began to travel briskly, and even all these spans from Telone, it was worth the extra effort to get just a little bit farther ahead.

The day itself was lackluster, and though we breaked occasionally, it was either marked by silence or by utter silence. Torran showed some odd appreciation for the calling birds along the path, and we passed several dark-eyed travelers along the road, to which we waved briefly. They did not return it, and I smiled internally, for I knew the reason. Fear, and if I was like Mara, I was sure it would be thick in the smell of this air; it was quite musty and almost as dreary here. It may have been the mists rising from the river in the North, but it was more than likely our own downheartedness (or feigned downheartedness in my case). The trip was solemn, and Sulin and I both urged Tryfan past nightfall. We traveled until it was no less than midnight, before exhaustion dogging at our heels forced the three of us to rest on a small wood side, where a fire was promptly started with little difficulty. The entire time, to my concealed frustration, there had been no winds. Sulin seemed to smirk, as if he knew my anger at it, and I was quite sure he could sense what I was waiting for. What was his difficulty? It would help all of us to get to Tailen quicker, so why would he find it so ridiculous that I could not move through the air? And I realized, with a sudden bout of apathy, that it was most certainly because he could fly. I made a note, that if he ever chose to pursue me, to hunt me that my vow was to rip those little scaled wings off his blooded carcass. But, for the moment, I continued to recognize his ancestry and former station to some degree. Being a Rae had taught me to at least respect those that deserved it, for they were likely to eventually return it. Eventually was most certainly the case with this stern and quick-witted bastard hatchling.

As the embers of the fire glowed gently, I made my first attempt at commentary since our trip had begun. Intending nothing more than deception, I asked Tryfan with a manner of fake curiosity, “So what of your family? Have you none?”

At this he procured a large stick, at which he began to poke at the coals. I eyed him to stop as the fire began to flicker, and he placed the stick down without any sign of embarrassment. He kept the demeanor of guardian to a fault. I now understood why the boy had progressed so quickly.

He mulled over it for a time, and I did not press him, and I was obliged to believe he may have been communicating with Sulin (perched on a nearby log that I had so graciously rolled near the fire). After this pause, he began by stating simply, “My father was a guard. My mother was a widow.”

I recognized that he wanted to talk of nothing more and I did not put much thought to it. It did spur me to think that there may have been some circumstances about his childhood that he was not keen to reveal. After a similar pause, I added to his words, “That was kind of you to appease the slight curiosity of a stranger. I realize you would more enjoy having only the accompaniment of your dragon companion here.”

Sulin scoffed in the flickering firelight, whether this was a profession of “As I prefer the companionship of Torran only,” was likely but not comprehensible. Torran merely nodded a little, with some honesty, and stared into the flames with such intensity that it was as if he was trying to divine something from them.

I abated a small amount of the awkwardness by stating, “I shall be up early, if that is when you wish to set off.”

It was met by a nod from Torran and a snort from Sulin. I knew that to be a yes, and simply turned my back. It was not the smartest move, granted, but I had the confidence that they wouldn’t try anything; besides, to them, I was the one to worry about, not vice versa.

I settled myself in an area beyond the firelight without saying goodnight. I attempted to make the gesture of “No, I will not kill you in your sleep.” By entering the velvet world of sleep first, I hoped to make this statement more poignant. You couldn’t say a man as old as I had no tact.

=====

[Weasel Overlord]

Wohoah! This post was a long time in the making...and I didn't realise that deleting the last Mara post made Joseph look like a double-posting fiend! snigger...

~Torran Ylldier~
…the journey to Tailen ((will never happen unless we stop sleeping!! snigger...)) | Seraphim sing in the corner of my mind O.o

So the boy wanted to be up early, did he? Torran was happy to oblige, he had always been an early riser.
Sulin, perched on Torran’s shoulders, cocked his head to listen to some sound in the night.

-I hear nightingale song…-
-Go then.-

He flapped off Torran’s shoulder and took to the air, hunting for the victim of the night’s ritual who had dared to show his voice with a High Guardian nearby. Beautiful as it was, it would soon be silenced, as Torran performed the ritual only available to High Guardians.

Feeling the wind tearing at his wings and powering him upwards, Sulin made no sound as he flew, riding the currents on velvet wings, sharp eyes scanning the trees.

Ahah! The bird sat on the branch of a nearby Oak, singing cheerfully. Angling his wings, Sulin tilted towards the tree and reached out his head as he flew past in an arc. Snapping his mouth shut, the bird trapped within his sharp teeth, he turned and flew back to Torran.

-I have one!-
-Well done dear heart.

We shall sleep safe tonight thanks to your hunt.- Holding out his hand for the bird, Torran flicked out his knife in preparation for one of the oldest High Guardian rituals.

“The dusk ritual is nearly the most important one we Guardians have to carry out. For the Midday Ritual the High Guardian prays to Astraeus. He, or indeed, she, invokes the power of Astraeus, the Lord of the Sky to whom all Demal must make their obeisance. Astraeus holds the power of flight and hence the Midday Rituals. All Demal give thanks to Astraeus for the gift of flight, and the continuation of this gift, for it was foretold that one day, the downfall of the Demal would cause our wings to be hacked from our very bodies, leaving us flightless. This prophecy doesn’t only effect the generation in question. Oh no, the wingless ones will give birth to wingless children, so losing our legacy of flight. This is why we pray every day, at midday.

For the protection ritual, however, we pray to an entirely different Lord – the master of the Night and sleep, Oneiroi. He who guards the realm of nightmares. This might not sound so bad to one outside the Guardian’s chamber, but we know how a Guardian’s dreams can seem to be reality. So much so, in fact, that many a Guardian in the past has fervently claimed to have trodden beyond the Border in a dream that was only too real. Claimed to have seen terrible things stalking the edges of reality, watching, ever waiting.

So, Torran, if you ever feel in the least bit worried for your safety, don’t hesitate to contact the great Lord Oneiroi, for he shall help you in your time of need…”

As always, the wisdom of Torran’s attendants had prevailed, leaving an imprint in his mind, even today.

Absent-mindedly, Torran smoothed the chest feathers of the nightingale with his thumb, humming softly to it to stop its struggles. He couldn’t quite remember why the nightingale had to be sacrificed to Oneiroi, but he was never one to question traditions, and especially not ones which were proved to work.

Racking his brains, he recalled the words to the ritual, a strange little chant, sung in a lilting tone while pressing a sharp blade against the throat of the bird. It had been a while since he had performed the Dusk ritual, Torran being a Demal of a particularly unsuspicious nature he had never felt the need. But now, at such close proximities to a person whom Sulin felt uneasy about and even Torran had a slight problem with, the ritual seemed all the more useful. For who knew what could attack in the night?

The small bird had settled in Torran’s palm, quieted by the gentle motion of his thumb, and, positioning his knife over the bird’s throat, Torran closed his eyes and began to hum.

The ritual was supposed to be backed by the Spirit Guide making a low sound in his or her throat, and depending upon the species of the Guide, a series of other noises designed to increase the general uneasiness of the entire ritual.

Soon, Sulin’s musical voice joined Torran’s gentle hum and they blended in harmony for a few seconds before Torran launched fully into the ritual.

Lord of the realm of sleep
You who have many namas:
I invoke the power of Morpheus, Lord of dreams;
I invoke the power of Selene, Goddess of the moon;
I invoke the power of the almighty Lord of the nightmare, Oneiroi, bringer of sanctuary in sleep.
Come to me this night...

At the peak of the chant, Torran plunged the blade into the throat of the bird and dragged it down the still fluttering chest.

I offer you this sacrifice, oh Oneiroi.
Hear my call!

The deep blood spilled on the ground, and Torran knew the god was appeased. He would sleep safe tonight!

Pillowing down on some tufted grass, he lay his wings flat to either side of him and Sulin nestled between two of the huge pinions. As Torran’s eyes closed, he felt an odd veil come down over his mind, shrouding him from the outside world and from any would-be prying eyes.

Drifting off into blissful sleep, Torran’s last waking memory was of voices. Gently swelling voices in harmony with each other, singing a veil around his dreams.

[Plantae]

A drearily long time since a post for all of us here. Ah well-

= Uuleuhuen =

The wait was torturous. With each day Torran and I progressed further towards Tailen, and due to his flight and my grainy form on the winds we had managed to cover a wondrous distance in a short time. We were perhaps only one or two days off of Tailen, but it irritated me to no end; I had brought Torran for a single purpose which may have surprised him. I truly wanted him as an ally. He was High Guardian, and I saw in my future the particularly volatile and particularly vile countenance of the serpent Erensuge. I could feel with the last vestiges of my broken stone heart a repulsive pain, one that foreshadowed an image reinforced by the man’s words- I had not lied when I had said Tailen was in dire straits.

It would only be a matter of time, I told myself with each day, and the same I was forced to hold my tongue and keep a bit of patience; I had it, with my age, surprisingly, but it hardly bettered the situation. I had secretly witnessed Torran’s ritual and I knew the foe which he protected himself against was me. It was only a matter of time before the façade fell and I was exposed to the High Guardian of Tailen, who, despite his exile, remained a fierce enemy should I make him one.

There were so many paths and so many devilish endings to them that I feared with even my apathy the coming days. Each morning I woke to a red dawn, omens of blood spilled in nights prior. The wrong souls of the world were infiltrating the system, hiding amongst humans and everywhere. There were not yet many of them, but there were enough that I saw them as we traversed the road. Perhaps we met fifty or so people in our travels, caravans of lost Demal from whom Torran hid with derision, and amongst the fifty I could taste the tragic views of perhaps one wrong soul. Even then I could not tell. One could ask me “A single wrong soul?” To which I might point out my existence, and Mara’s, and Erensuge’s, and that of Zenzir. One in fifty meant two in one hundred, and two in one hundred meant that there were at least fifty wrong souls past the border. There were fifty clever beasts of burden, creatures of nightmare that carried malevolence in each drop of their blood. And that, my fair compatriots, was terror in humanoid form.

It was such that I wasted no time, and if he had the courage to ask me if I was tired, I always told Torran no. Sulin eyed me with contempt further for each instance of this, but he was bearing now a grudging respect and I to him. We were all anxious, an on-edge feeling that would not fail once we reached Tailen- I hoped nor would it grow.

I had considered it. I tasted the bitterness of it in my mouth, the idea of it. She was my rival even with the great favor I had granted her. I had intentions against her, or so I was certain; we had never had our attentions in alignment. I had maligned her name and her mine. We spat harsh words at one another for decades, but nothing brought an end, and one always hunted the other. We were both so aged now, so uncaring… the feeling was lost to the ache of the struggle behind the hideous border. Still, deeply buried beneath my other more current motives was that two centuries young hate. She was a wench, and I a bastard, and neither of us would be satisfied; the world was not big enough for the two of us, but for now I made due note of her cooperation thus far, and her assistance, and I resolved that I might yet change my mind. Still, stooping to that seemed so utterly ridiculous.

And then a few more days of waiting passed on the way to Tailen, and I began to relent. From days it became moments, each of which I continued to harbor that solitary pattern. To ask her? What would it be? She was a defiler, and had tasted my blood, and I ascertained that she wanted more. Still, still… what other course of action?

And then as Torran fell fast asleep after the ritual he thought was unnoticed, my will was broken. I had gone over schemes and devices and methods and none of them compared. It seemed my only decision, but faced with it I remained squeamish. It was time to call back my favor. The favor I had rightly won for my assistance in her return- oh, how I was glad of it at this moment (though I knew my attitude would change in time).

In the misty night I was first to open the link again, to feel the presence of her disturbed thoughts again, and I cringed, but I asked. “Mara?”

”It is late Uul, and you caught me in a difficult mood.” No other would have understood that, but it was her craving for blood talking beneath it.

”I would not bother you unless I had due reason. And it so happens that I do, old bat.”

”Ever the charmer,” she telepathically muttered with sarcasm abound. ”Do go on, as you test the limits of my patience- we wouldn’t want your old bones to turn into dust, so you best expedite your speech!” She chattered wildly, continuing the tirade of insult.

”Well, you frumpy maid, I best get on with it then. You owe me a favor and I am calling it… now.”

”I was an idiot for getting killed in the first place..." she uttered, bereft. She proceeded then to cover it up with, "I will not stand for your insolence Uul."

”Close your gaping fanged maw, harlot; you owe me a favor and you know it, and with that tiny speck of loyalty within you know that refusing to fulfill it would be letting me win, so you will do it.”

I could imagine her scoff as the echo of her voice entered my thoughts, ”My, you know me so well, don’t you? Pray tell, what can I do for you... master?” She cackled heartily through our link.

”Pray. Fittingly ironic for you, wrinkled temptress. Do you know a serpent, a wrong soul named Erensuge?”

”I do,” she said with amazing cooperation.

”Feast upon him Mara, feast on him for me. Tear into his flesh with your claws and rip apart his remains.”

”You expect me to kill that thing?” She spat, having an understandable lack of affection for her future prey.

”No. I expect you to weaken him. The reasons for your attack will be yours. If you like, make it supremacy of these wrong souls. You might have a right chuckle at that. When the other soul takes his mind, leave him; he has two, dark-spawn, two souls. Like I.”

”Is that why you must weaken him, my love? Jealousy?” She put particular emphasis on the “my love” for dramatic effect and elitist sarcasm.

”No, devil’s daughter, it isn’t. I have plans,” and I proceeded to taunt her, “and it is my prerogative whether I tell them or not.”

”Two hundred and forty-two years and still a sense of humor. You really are miraculous, you coot. Consider your favor done.”

”Oh, I already knew it done with you Mara. I already knew.” And with that final comment, I clamped down upon my mind, and Mara’s presence was gone. Torran had not stirred, and had never left the sleeping world. I called it proper revenge for his link with Sulin, and then I dozed off with the tiredness of it all. It was the tired, ugly world that we all must die in. "Death is so final," I thought with a sigh.

And then I amended my comment with a mental, "Sometimes."

=====

Cue Mara, I would assume. Since Weasel's previous post, a week has passed in Otherworld. I apologize for forcing that. When it gets to the Ortze and Uuleuhuen interaction, Yi-wen, I will post if you do not wish to. It is not already Uuleuhuen's intention to bargain with the other soul within Erensuge (Ortze), and is instead merely to suppress Erensuge long enough to execute some sort of plan. He will, however, choose to communicate with Ortze once he realizes the opportunity.

[Weasel Overlord]

Okay, all prepare for the longest post the Weez has ever written...mild sexiness at the end, but nothing as explicit as I could write, so lucky you Jobes! ...and any other non-yaoi-liking male reader, of course! heh...
It merely serves as some background for the mysterious Mara...

ENJOY!...

[color=#8fbc8f][From the point-of-view of the Lalli’huem, 2000 years past]

[color=#8fbc8f]We were a proud race. We stood tall over the scorn of the Demal, we were superior to they and their pathetic, pacifist ways of doing things.
We were a warlike race, we made war. We sold ourselves to further war. And perhaps that was our downfall...

[color=#8fbc8f]“Rhee’ualheu!” The youngling hailed Mara as she flew in, mouth bloodied and eyes wild, bestial, after her latest kill.
“What is it, child?” Blood dribbled from her plump lips, only to be licked away before it reached her chin. The youngster trembled as he looked upon her tremendous form. She had been feasting on wolves again. Her ears were pointed, teeth elongated and her skin was covered in a light dusting of downy grey fur, which only enhanced her feral beauty.
“The Demal. They have sent an emissary...I do not know his purpose.” Mara nodded curtly, still wrapped up in the hunt.
“You may leave now, child.” She bared her teeth. Demal were good sport for huntin’ and she had feasted only on wolves for the past month.
The brown-winged youngling scampered away and Mara stalked away in the direction of the heavily decorated castle jutting from the cliff face.

The castle of the Hrefra’leur* was not easily missed, decorated with wreaths of mist, enchanted by the shamans to seem ethereal in presence and horrifying in colour. These Mists were no ordinary colour. They rippled and swirled about the Lalli’huem homelands as if they were controlled by some sort of twisted puppet-master.
The colour of ripe bruises, a sickening orange mingled with an unnatural purple, it took a person of the most stoic nature to pass through without feeling uneasy.
Mara was slightly impressed that a Demal emissary had managed to make his way through the Mists without turning back, or killing himself. They had been known to have that sort of effect on untrained minds, or indeed, minds which were simply not used to them.

Passing under the great stone arch, Mara stopped to press in the correct sequence in the complex lock.
A set of dimples were inset in the cold stone, each with a single inlaid gem.
Onyx. Ruby. Opal. Topaz. Many others, too innumerable to count. The code was only known to the highest of the Lalli’huem, but Mara knew it. She was privileged, with some of the strongest powers the Hrefra’leur had seen in an age she was instantly admitted onto the council. Her haughty ways made her many enemies, but her feral nature made her an ally to many who felt themselves sway towards obeisance.
Mara tended to treat such with indifference, unless they had something to offer...new blood, perhaps.

The practice of blood-cannibalism was not practised in Lalli’huem society. Or, at least, it was not practised by anyone other than the Rhee’ualheu Mara, for whom the victims came willingly, enthralled by her beauty and her power.
Her eyes overflowed with darkness after these twisted rituals, darkening so much that they almost absorbed light.

Stalking through the arch, the gems pressed into the stone further than before clicked back out again as she swept onwards, her huge wings fluttering slightly with her gait.
The stone passageway led her deeper into the cliff, and as she walked, she marvelled at the pointed stalactites dangling from the towering rock roof. They were nearly long enough to catch and tear her wings as she went, and her admiration for the Demal soared as she realised that he would have had to wait outside the stone arch for Sraiyeth** knows how long before someone came to fetch him. And the added danger of the Mists meant that his mind must be well-trained indeed.

Mounting the stairs, Mara tucked her wings back, ready to unfurl them for her most majestic entrance. Throwing open the huge oak door, she swept inside the castle, almost knocking over the Aleir*** on her way through.

Gathering her robes in one hand, she threw out her other and bent her head, unfurling her wings in an elaborate salute to the Hrefra’leur, who sat upon his throne, majestic wings draped over the side almost rivalling Mara’s in their span.

“I greet you, Hrefra’leur, and may Sraiyeth bring you prosperity in battle.” Mara thumped her chest and snapped upright, wings taut behind her in the salute of Lalli’huem Shars.****

“First squadron is fully rested, Ra’leur. Ready for killing.” Her eyes glowed in pleasure at her recent promotion to Shar, and she was eager to show her prowess at training her squadron. Her eyes widened as she took in the small chair set up next to the throne.

It was occupied by one of the smallest Demal she had ever seen. The male couldn’t have been up to her breasts...oh, but his wings! They had long, lush feathers in the deepest blue and they were speckled with tiny amounts of silver, like flashing stars.
About an average span, they draped over the side in an echo of the Hrefra’leur’s, and his legs were swung over one side. He was at his ease, arrogant to a fault and everything she hated about the Demal. His eyebrow lifted as she entered, and a slight smirk flashed across his face when she had finished her proclamation.

Mara blushed a little, she was still transformed. The smattering of fur remaining hid her embarrassment, so she smoothly turned to the Demal and bowed her best bow, an parody of the elegant Demal formalities; wings outstretched and bent low. He lifted his hand and beckoned her over, flipping his legs to the front and standing.

Her guess has been right! The little man was no taller than Mara’s breasts. She allowed herself a smirk before regaining her composure.

“I greet you, good emissary, with but a little puzzlement at your reason for being here.” Her teeth, longer than they should naturally be, rested on her bottom lip, drawing two tiny spots of blood, which were immediately licked away. He smiled in return, inclining his head up so that he could look her in the eye.

“My mission, madam Lalli’huem, is one of a diplomatic nature which I hope to be able to share with yourself later.” She felt a strange caress in her mind, a feather-like touch, but one which was exciting and spoke of things to come. The tiny Demal held out his hand, or rather, he held it up, for Mara to grasp.

“I am Whirris Talex, of Telone.” His brow raised once again. “Your name, madam?”

Mara grinned and took his hand. Despite his small stature, he was elegant and not at all dumpy, perfectly aligned but petite. His wingspan, however, was rather large, probably leaving him with much manoeuvrability.

“I am Rhee’ualheu Mara Deiis’alu, but you may address me as Mara, sir Whirris.” He took down her hand and bent over it, lightly touching his lips to the back before releasing it with a flourish.

“Well, Mara, would it be presumptuous for me to ask you to join me in a little light snack? It is quite a while after midday and I have not yet eaten...” He left his question open, and Mara, her mouth gaping, could only nod at this tiny blue-winged Demal who was supposed to be her deadly enemy, but who was slowly becoming more alluring as the minutes passed by. And she was sure he was touching her mind somehow.

“I would be happy to oblige you, sir Whirris. Only allow for me to change my clothing and to, ah, recover from my hunt.” Mara smiled, her teeth showing and ears pricking, and Whirris nodded in return.

“I shall be waiting, dear Mara. Hurry back to me.” And with that he turned on his heel, wings fluttering fussily and strode down the stone hallway, presumably to his allocated room.

Mara glared at the Hrefra’leur. “Is this some sort of diplomatic mission sir?” The Ra’leur merely smiled, he was always a king of few words.

“Call it a test, young Rhee’ualheu. He may not be what you expect.” She saluted once more, and scurried off in the opposite direction to her own circular room. Hewn out of the bare stone, Mara’s room was sparse. Containing a dresser and a huge bed also hewn out of stone. Mara was not one for material possessions, and her most precious belonging was a delicate robe bought for her coming-of-age ceremony. She hadn’t worn it. Probably as a youthful act of defiance. But now seemed like as good a time as any, and she slipped into the silky item.

The dress was long, touching the floor, and low cut in a pale and shimmering material that was almost transparent. Her skin looked like that of a doll underneath, her hair shone long and dark as her eyes, which had arrived at their normal hue.

Her fur was gone, along with the pointed ears, and she flapped her wings ready for what was surely a test.

Were tests supposed to feel this good? She wondered, the memory of the Demal, ah, Whirris’ mind touching her own. How she longed to touch those warm blue feathers. To lose herself in their hue, and in his body and scent. Why, the feeling she had, it was not so dissimilar to that of the hunt.

A strange sexual energy, crackling in her mind. A part of everyone was animal, but that part was so much more accelerated in the Lalli’huem, and they felt every instinct sharper, cleaner in their minds and bodies.

Shaking some dust off her wings, Mara deemed herself ready for the meal, and put on her best haughty expression in preparation for this ‘test’. Stalking through the corridors, she knocked sharply at the oaken door to Whirris’ quarters, only to have the door opened and herself swept inside before she could say anything.

For such a small person, he sure was strong. Maybe strength wasn’t proportionate to size...

“My dear Mara, you look ravishing!” Mara blushed, as she felt his hand at her waist, their wingtips touching. “This dress is wonderful. Wherever did you get the material?”

“My father is...was a cloth merchant...one of the more, docile of my race. He managed to acquire the cloth for the Ai’hu ceremony at my coming-of-age. I...never got to wear it then...”

“Ah, this must be a painful topic for you. Let us move onto more pleasant things. Like food, for example.” He steered her over to a long table which had been laden with a variety of dishes, all alien to Mara. “I thought we could dine on the cuisine of my homeland tonight, you do not mind?”

Mara shook her head hastily, indeed she would quite like to try some of these strange foods. But she could not help wondering what it was about this Demal that was so damn attractive.

Their wings touched again, before he pulled aside a seat for her with a familiar flourish. “Pray, be seated lovely one.” Mara inclined her head politely and took the seat, smoothing her robe down and folding her wings back.

Gasping slightly, she realised that Whirris had formed a mind-link with her. It felt...warm. Comforting. She closed her eyes, revelling in the experience.

-Have you never felt the intimacy of a mind-link before, my dear?-
-I...I have not, sir Whirris. This...feeling is new to me...-
-You need not call me ‘sir’, Mara. We are equals, I hope...- He gave a wicked grin, and Mara almost melted inside.

-I dearly hope so, si...ah, Whirris.- They were sitting so close, she could feel his feathers tickling at her own leathery wings, and for the first time, she hated them. Longing for feathers, soft, warm feathers, she sighed.

Whirris ran his hand down her cheekbone.

-What is the matter, dear-one?- Their wings mingled as he leaned over, caressing her face gently as a single tear rolled down.
-I...it is nothing.- She dashed away the tear, red-faced. –Merely a wishful fancy.-
-Ah, but are fancies not permissible if both parties wish them to be so?-
His voice was gentle over the link, soothing. And Mara was smitten.

Whirris murmured under his breath, a deep, alluring tone that resonated though Mara’s very soul, caressing her wings with gentle probing fingers until her eyes closed in bliss.

-Is that nice?-
-Mmmm...- Mara was lost for words, lost in the feeling of him. It was like she had tumbled into him, lost in love and pleasure until she cared not about the world outside their mind-link. Outside their caresses.

Wings linked, minds linked; and Mara was in love.

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

*The Hrefra’leur is the Lalli’huem king-type figure. The suffix ‘leur’ is the masculine form of the ‘heu’ part of Mara’s title. In this case, it means ‘king’, when prefixed with ‘ra’, and in Mara’s case, the ‘heu’ means queen when prefixed with ‘ual’. Her name literally translated means ‘shape-shifting queen’.
Href is the name of the king, and ‘Ra’leur’ is the title. Each king prefixes their name onto the title in such a manner. For example, a previous king was named Sares, his kingly name was therefore Saresra’leur.

**Sraiyeth is the Lalli’huem’s main God. He is head of their small pantheon, being the God of blood, war and death. Minor Gods include Yreth, the God of the hunt, and Ai’hu, the Goddess of magic, and the ether beyond life. Ai’hu also rules the soul, the prefix ‘Ai’ meaning ‘soul-warden’.

***The Aleir is, literally translated, a ‘doorkeeper’. This is a title passed down through families, and the High families all have their own Aleir, although they have the suffix ‘ai’ to show that they do not belong to the royal family – ‘Aleir’ai’.

****A Shar is a general, or war-leader.

[Emotional Faun Chiko-sai]

*Character Use Clause*: Dubheasa Isolda, property of Drusilla, borrowed extensively in this post *apologies*
Somehow, I think I'm missing New Year and the mahjong season too much...
-------------------

Thirteen Unique Wonders (Part One)

1. The West Wind

When the twinge comes, Lamia Eguzki-Lorea, the third of twelve sisters, is combing the hornwort out of her hair.

She lives almost entirely underwater, her breathing processes taken over by her bonded, a lotus plant. You can tell if she is home if there are pink-petalled flowers floating upon the calm waters of Lake Tailen, ethereal in their luminiscence.

But nowadays she is always home. She has no wish to enter Tailen proper, where her sisters bicker in a fashion that she considers crassly immature and her father is constantly bungling up the running of the city; ever since their mother died she has not set foot inside the gate of brambles. When Ortze comes he comes to the lake and waits. Lamia does not go to anyone. Among the sisters she and Aray compete for the title of cold dead fish.

She maintains that she is a seer and a clairvoyant. However, she takes as much pride in her appearance as any other woman; so it is that though she chooses to stay underwater, she still curses and rages at the weeds and aquatic greenery that tangle in her hair, ugly black and green among the shimmering cobalt of the strands, and the plants quiver and cower but they cannot help their nature.

So she combs the hornwort out of her hair.

To some little degree she has the Sight. She is quick to recognise others of greater talent and ability, and knows when one is dangerous. But Aray, whom she dislikes, does the same with her wild senses, and Thalatte, whom she is slightly afraid of, seems to know just as much as she does just by watching. Mari, who has been in love for twenty-five years, moves through reality as if a stranger through a house, and she takes care of things twice as well as her.

Lamia tells herself she is special.

The girl at the banks of the lake now is small and dark-haired. Lamia cannot remember ever having seen her before, but from the feeling of her she must be a seer, a true one. She pulls the fishbone comb out of her locks and deposits it in a little shelf hollowed into the bank for that very purpose. She surfaces then, her hair lovely and straight, her skin blue and surreal.

She beckons to the girl: "Who are you, young one?"

"I am Dubheasa... and Tailen... Tailen is the eye of the storm."

2. A Thousand Warriors

Aray Eguzki-Lorea, who is a vigilante and a warrior but not a diplomat in any sense of the word, lopes through the woods with the grace of a cat. She leaves no visible tracks, and uses tree routes when she can. She oscillates wildly between berserker and emotionless guardian, and some say this is because of Polevoy the poppies, whose magic seeds cause the users to dream deep and long, and see things others cannot; and still others say that this is not a proper way for the Elder's daughter to behave at all.

Aray does not care, Aray fights, Aray kills, Aray leaps, Aray runs, and only the animals seem to understand her.

Aray has gone halfway to Telone and back again; that is as far as she needs to go for news. For halfway to Telone there are the mountains, where Polevoy spreads his sacred mist over her, so that she gains the strength to ride the eagles and use their eyes, for as long as she needs, and what she sees is terror. Terror in the streets, anarchy at its best; elders missing presumed murdered; High Guardian wandering lost.

Lost? Not quite... she dives sharply, and spots the black wings of Torran Ylldier dark against the foliage. By this time she is almost back at Tailen, and ready to reenter her own body. She coasts the treetops, belly touching the topmost leaves, and returns to her nest - the eagle's nest - not hers - she must remember, and it is hard, but she must, she must do it, break away, come out of the fog -

She wakes up with four lanky limbs and outwardly visible ears and poppies clustered over her shoulders, and her shoulders are sticky with sap.

She is the only Falith who does not walk up the tree on the dainty steps carved out of the trunk. She bounds nimbly from branch to branch, and misses not a one. In the Elder's rooms she finds the Elder, who is reading a long treatise submitted to him by some of the more prominent citizens of Tailen complaining about some petty privilege or other. Aray thrusts her sharp chin into the Elder's view and says in a guttural voice:

"Mari isn't lying: Telone is fallen."
"What... How do you know?"
"The High Guardian is coming here. To Tailen."

And the Elder has no choice but to believe, for when Aray says something, people listen.

3. Nine Coins*

"Ortze, Ortze, come and dance."
"It's no time for dancing..."
"Dance the Fire Dance: burning, blazing, burning, blazing."
"I have to see my mother."
"Dance the Snake Dance: slipping, sliding, slipping, sliding."
"...I can't."

"Spar with me, boy."
"I will. Later."
"There is all the time in the world. Why not now?"
"There is never any time while Telone writhes."
"I don't follow you."
"Don't."

"Orryorryoxinfree, let's us go and visit Axular in her grove, it is the time when harebells bloom."
"But that's in the exact opposite direction of where I'm going."
"Where are you going, that Axular and harebells don't matter?"
"To see my mother."

"Orci, my pet, tarry a while with you aunt, she pounding silver leaf, need some muscle, you know?"
"I want to visit my mother."
"Don't be in a hurry. A rush is the worsest thing for a body to be in. Isn't that so, Tala?"
Nod.
"Tala, why you look worried? Orci he fine, he see Iloilo in her chamber, he make her happy. Tell me is that a bad thing. Yesno? Noyes?"
Nod.
"Ah, Tala, you don't know the half of it, you so quiet even you mind gone numb. Hey Orci - Orci he gone. See, Tala, what happen when you say unsuitable things in front of that boy."
A movement of hands.
"You see things in he face?"
Vigorously.
"You see... Serpent?"

"Ortze, a stranger wants to see you."
"Who is it?"
"A girl of our race, she is small and dark."
"I don't know anybody like that."
"She says that she knows. You."

4. The East Wind

Dubheasa Isolda takes a single look at Erensuge and knows him.
"There," she says to Lamia, who has led her into Tailen, "there, the perpetrator, the first one, the serpent... the aura's thick as anything... Believe me on this."
"But what can I do?" asks Lamia in turn.
"You're talking absolute nonsense, whoever-you-are," says Erensuge with an easy smirk.
"Well, she's right, and I can't do anything about it, and I don't think you can help me - this one I have to win myself," says Ortze gravely.
"You won't have to do anything..."
"What d'you mean?"
"More like him are coming."
Erensuge hisses.

5. The Red Dragon

There is a stranger in town. Devana knows. Devana the gossip, the self-appointed City Guard, the courageous girl-child without an inch of caution in her being, cries the alarm. There is something about this stranger that induces a sheer panic in her and causes her to run for the Tree, calling to the bushes, screaming to the beasts. The Falith look up from their chores, the leaves of the trees stiffen, and they are trying to connect the screams of the child with the frozen looks on the faces of the exiled Demal, and then they see the blood queen entering through the gorse.

The wolves and the sambar rise as a vanguard wave behind the stranger, and the gate of brambles grows hostile in its mien. The stranger smiles: a horrible, mocking smile. She holds her wings aloft all the more proudly; she dares the Falith to make a move before she does, but it will all be futile, because no one is so good at drawing the blood as she.

The stranger looks like a Demal herself, but Devana has learnt never to trust appearances: didn't Ortze look like a Demal, and wasn't he the very opposite of what a true Demal should be in all ways except, as it were, the most important one? Besides, she can feel the bloodlust looming over this woman's form like a headdress of woe, can see the dark glints in her hazel eyes. Devana's gift was always the reading of people. Good and bad. Bad and good.

This one is bad.
-----------------------
* I tell a lie, there're only 5 people that Ortze talks to here but actually 9 people in total mentioned... 10 if you count Souls... and YES, the 4th section is SHORT. ...I ran out of juice while writing this monstrosity.

[Weasel Overlord]

Just a small post before my next filler...also, I thought that maybe I should do some of the plot at some point...instead of leaving it all to Jobes and Yi...

Zenzir is still here, if you wish to continue, EVme...

[color=powderblue]~Rhee’ualheu Mara Deiis’alu~

Ah, Tailen. After half a sevenday of travelling, myself and the Demal boy had finally arrived. The natural defences of Tailen, well, naturally defended against my presence, but I put into play my dominant will, and the hedges and bramble shrank from my bared teeth.

A smile played across my lips as I noted the Falith come to greet me. My eyes were drawn to one, nay two of them. Special cases both, though one was here only in spirit.

The former; the snake. I had heard much of this one, Erensuge, the one whom I would attack. And the latter. Oh, I knew him well. Uuleuhuen.

Though he had not arrived yet, I sensed his presence. His blood called to me, singing of our transformations, the closeness I had felt as I became part of him for that mere moment. His blood sang with music sorrowful and treacherous. And my blood sang with lust. Much like the fateful day in my past, when I was but a child, and much used. But I shall not dwell on what has already been. For now, I must make myself known.

My blood sang with lust, the way only my blood could sing out. It called to me, whispered its need throughout my body. Blood. And I had not hunted in an age, unwilling to show my bestial side to Zenzir as we travelled. Wrong Soul he may be, but he was still Demal, and I did not trust him to stay faithful.

Baring my teeth at the gathered Falith-Hai, I held out my wings and bowed. All my deception magic had been dropped for the purpose of making me appear less threatening, though the presence of my soul was enough to terrify most.

I appeared Demal, my wings…well; I had added a slight glamour to my wings, changing them from that colour I hated so much, the too-bright greens flickering their way about the feathers. I made them blue. Blue like the egg of a robin, dusky and soft, the pinions were long, fading to a softer, powdery blue at the edges, and darkening to a deeper shade nearer my body.

Rustling experimentally, I glared at the single Falith girl, one who seemed to know that I was not I as seemed.

“Falith-Hai! I greet you as an envoy from Telone.” I threw out my hands, and executed a bow, a perfect replica of a Demal’s, wings outstretched and bent low.


Raising my head, I saw the small one studying me intently, the same with the viper, Erensuge. I decided to take a drastic measure, and threw out my hand dramatically.

“That one!” I gestured wildly at Erensuge, the body he was in smirked at me before a subtle change ran over the face. The boy shrugged, an innocent smile on his face.

“Maybe you should come and speak with the Elder.” He pointed up the large tree that was the centrepiece of Tailen. “He lives up the Baobab.” A challenging smile. “Can you climb it, I wonder…”

Accepting his challenge, I gestured haughtily at Zenzir. “Come my boy, let us show them what the Demal are capable of.” With that, I sprang off the ground, dust swirling about my feet and flew the distance to the great tree, Zenzir following close behind.

-Mara!- He hissed in my mind.
-What are you doing? What are your intentions here?-
I laughed a little, under my breath before answering him.
-Does it not feel good to be so hidden among so many innocents, my boy?- He turned to me, nodding his head a little.

-But I’m not sure of our disguise. Did you see the small girl child looking? I would swear that she knows something…-
-She knows, indeed. But she knows not what it is that she knows, nor the importance of her knowledge. We can but hope she does not see sense. For now, however, we shall meet with the Elder. We must tell him the news of Telone, must we not?-

[Plantae]

= Uuleuhuen =

There was an unexpected consequence of ancient magic upon me, and though it beat slower with each passing day, I could feel a weight against my marble heart. How could I have let her on that day to bend and drink my blood? What in passing thought had I missed so easily… it had only been so long- but I had forgotten her power- and the repercussions would have been so easily perceived. It had been the only error, I had conceded after hours, for injury by the elders was inevitable. What was it that bound me to a code of chivalry so strong that I could not abandon a demon witch to hell? It was a mental pang so bittersweet in this, laying my mind in constant turmoil; they could call it charity, but I knew better. It was madness.

The sirocco and the zephyr had blown so kindly me here, with my flighty companion Torran. But we had not pressed them, nonetheless, the winds to rake their prizes. When we neared the glory of the Falith-Hai, the rising Baobab and city, it was only by a dreary trot on foot. I could not help myself noticing the falling character of the trees around, even in this inappropriately tropical place, for it was the clove of seasons. Autumn had been here, unnoticed or not, and the winter abound would not be a kind one; old bones knew these omens, by movements everywhere and about it. It was constant knowledge, like a fountain, breathing life, rumors of death.

For nothing now was as poetic as the present; the sweetest poets always those who wrote rhymes of reason and the ridiculous. A tragedy would be so true to the past, but the mood of now was tension. The world knew it was happening somewhere, a rise of powers unimaginable, and here was the High Guardian and I towards the halls and hearth of an infallibly corrupt snake. For Erensuge was here, I knew, as well as I knew by the pulse in the back of my already-so-full conscious that Mara was too.

The war of the Wrong Souls had grown background to the single possibility of coming confrontation. For even us, Wrong Souls in right, knew little of the war away at home. Mara, Erensuge, and I had different interests certainly, and in mentioning us all together this was sacrilege; I had the foresight to perceive that all of us, at any rate and possibly without warning of any kind, we would be pouncing unceremoniously upon one another. The twisted trinity of three had naught but the ability to go awry when we finally learned to grasp the other two’s motives. I knew nothing of what Mara desired, and Erensuge I could only speculate. I was under the impression that learning would be learning of only more bad news, or hideous news, in a sea of fine print and devilish devices.

I brooded so that the quiet of the world was coming to an abrupt end. And then I settled, with heavy histrionics, that the world had ever been in quiet and ever would be. For the world was neither overture, nor symphony- the world was the songs of the night, the out of place cries and accidental and sudden noise; therefore, it remained serene in a manner not unheard of. The world was always quiet, for always an elegy was being sung and always to forebear. For what was loud worth, if it always ended in death?

I realized it that Mara, queen of demons, ace of swords, and witch of worlds was present in Tailen. I realized with my very step and fluid movement that she had to be as she likely knew I was so close to reaching the city. For it was the transfusion of blood, so cruel, that bound us unjustly. I would be rid of it yet, but not before- ah, not before. The trade of favors between the two of us was falling fast, and soon betrayal would be but a song and step away.

And at the heart of it all was a promise still broken, beaten, bruised. Ahuk was my patron; he had lent me his life, and he my dream. He knew not of this, of course, the exact arrangement, but with each breath of his soul I stole to sustain myself on, I grew closer to him than he would have liked. For this was but the zenith of an entirely different scheme.

And the nadir of another, for it was on the horizon. A plan so easily played into my hands was only bound to bad luck, for it more or less followed me at one point or another; or was it I who followed cruel luck? At any rate or pace, it would be seen that it was both in one- un-death in the circumstance to live the both of them at once.

How easy it was to stride through an open gate, emissaries we were like. Ambassadors in a city still sleeping- we brought death in our own way, and a wake of poverty to the town, but none of them would have known. Torran and I, to his likely later distress and current obliviousness, were bandits; but rapscallion or not, Tailen was on the brink of its own exile: the curtain was being lowered ever so slowly. It was but a matter of time before the beam would break, and it comes crashing down to crush those not so quick to flee.

Elders or not, there wisdom proved quite lacking when I saw here upon the roads. I spoke to her in a tone appropriate. The confines of the mind are eerily quiet on the brighter days.

“When were you any less than a professional murderer? I can smell it on you. Your task goes unfinished.” It was spat with hostility, razor blades against a skin that could not be marred; she only marred others.

“I take my time in my stride, and it moves unlike yours. Have patience, fool.” She nearly guffawed, and I was all the more fobbed by a single action. "And I might be a hitman, but you are a sandman, choking them in their sleep."

“You prove unworthy then. I find it hard to believe someone as unfit as you could ever have been anything close to royalty.” I intended it with all my emotion, which was little, to sting.

“You goad me to no success. You know I will get it done, but what have you brought me? A Demal boy? Who is this, for I only sense he is there; seeing him is another matter.” She was unnaturally curious. Appeasement was to be met in the same, and so I lied.

“A traveler who did not wish to travel alone; he is harmless.” It was fruitless.

“I can smell prey on the wind from miles, and this is no mere traveler. Who he is I am not so certain- not of my time, certainly. And he is no Wrong Soul.”

“That he is not. Do your deed, temptress. I have no time for mind games.” And it was so quickly cut short, and Torran and I walked again through alleyways.

“Tailen is bursting to the brim with activity, oh rituals and foul magic.” The comment was burst by an overzealous Sulin, so irritated by a slow journey.

“Ahuk, my companion has a point. Where is this Wrong Soul activity you speak of? Where is your Lalli’huem?” He was greatly questioning, to which I gave him due audience. We had reached the square, the towering Baobab, and the black hair and now glamorous wings of a haughty harridan.

And then for the first time in weeks came forth a glimpse at my personality. For it was but a simple smirk, but in it came all the heartlessness and pleasure of irony that I possessed. I pointed casually to an overwhelmingly obvious beacon, and another, and as I looked to Torran’s widening maw… I knew he understood. It was a horrendous party. A monstrous woman, a well-stationed avian, a pitiless sage of sands- and the leviathan of them all with his second soul behind.

=====

[Weasel Overlord]

Hee, this turned out more abstract than I expected! Wahey for battles! Mara vs. Eren *ding* Round one! BEGIN!

[color=powderblue]~Rhee’ualheu Mara Deiis’alu~

Uul, he was so demanding! It amused me, somewhat. I would perform my duty in good time, midday to be precise. When the sun tops the clouds, and beams down on all in Tailen, then I shall strike.

My hunger is great. It has been long since I have hunted prey worthy of my skills. But this one. He is the serpent.

Erensuge. The snake. The deceiver. I would incapacitate him, to allow Uul (with his beautiful, and oh-so delicious blood) to take the advantage for his own.

And meanwhile…there are many other…ah, innocent souls in Tailen, ones on which I can surely whet my appetite soon.

I will be filled with delightful blood, gushing red through my veins, the transformation following in its wake, changing me as I take it into myself.

Ah, the change. I revelled in it. The blood. The chase. The end product, my powers increasing, swelling with the abilities of my sacrifice. My body; taken by them as I took their blood for my sustenance.

For blood is sustenance now. I never used to depend upon it for my life, but the cravings are often too great for me to ignore. It is like a fierce hunger, ravaging my body, filling me with a wild passion and a longing for the delights of the hunt.

For it is in the hunt where I find myself. Back to the days when my people lived, and roamed our country. We were the undisputed lords! Until the Demal and their interfering ways put an end to our reign. And our lives.

Myself. One of the highest in our society. My love had never meant for this to happen, but the Elders were fickle and pernicious. They wanted the destruction of our race.

We mirrored their own. A reflection of what lay inside every being on our world. We were the bestial side of every Demal. The side they hid in shame. Shame at their true nature. We were not afraid to show it.

Oh no, we were proud! Always a proud race. Ah, my people. How I do miss you.

But do not fret. The void of the Border shall no longer devour the souls of my people. We shall take back the world, one city at a time.

And it all begins in Tailen.

[i]My muscles tense beneath me, as the midday sun peers over the banking clouds. Wings taut, I flare them once, feeling the feathers ripple in the gentle breeze.

A harsh, barking laugh leaves my mouth, and I leap. The hunger…it pulses. I am the hunter, and I shall hunt.

Beat.

The blood spills over the floor, my first victim, easy as a small rabbit. My mouth in the blood, the change rushing through my body.

Beat.

The screams echo, far yet near. The noise fills my ears. They twitch, suddenly more leaf-like than ever. My skin takes on a green hue, I whisper gently as I move.

Beat.

The body of the first lies at my feet. It provides the rush I need to take on the snake.

Beat.

The blood rushes through my veins. Pumping, violent and red. I feel every whisper as if it is a shout, every scream is deafening. My senses sharpen, I rustle as I walk towards him.

Erensuge.

[Plantae]

= Uuleuhuen =

I could feel the tremors in my brain and body and blood, myself shaking in the breezeless air like a leaf, shivering as the echo of her rebounded from me. There was a heartbeat there and the tension rose. She was treading lightly but it was all the more; I lay secluded, knowing them there but avoiding the scene. She would not beat him. He would not defeat her. I knew this. And then she lunges out with a feline speed, pouncing upon prey- for Mara feeds- to sate her appetite. She needs, needs her rage to survive this one.

The serpent and the harpy dance; neither is the better, for this is a snake no eagle could grasp in its talons. This is a snake that slithers without pause, with a bite stopping the heart of man. And she, she is fair of flight and fierce as the gales of the North. A quivering person as she steps a pit-a-pat and watches. If I were not so mesmerized I would be forced to remind my mind why it was I watched the waltz of these. This was my way. To study quietly and strike when the opportune time arose.

But it is not the opportune time. This day is far on the horizon, and things are to be done prior. I was yet certain that even with the telepathic links of me that none had infiltrated. I was privy to my motives and this was only one other’s prerogative. Oh yes, he did know, my occupant. He identified where the zephyr and hurricane would find his sand sage next. But this was not truest perception; that is to say, my much kindly host had no measure to understand the old souls, the gray and the seemingly wise- no, no.

In time I notice little. I watch the movements and comprehend but make no approach to see them carefully. I steal his tactics (and hers for even later days) away to memory but until the slip they come of use. A passing passade now would serve the only baleful drink in the future, or so I was quite aware; from dawn of time it had been that proper observation, analysis, could beat even the slippery foe as this “man” about. I was amused to see their subtlety, and how poignant they were. They need but a footfall to traverse miles.

”Hell! What was this all, these demons! Get me out the place, to home. Where was my sister, the one that watched me burn to ashes? Oh lament it all, bemoan it this condition of mine. You sickening fiend, old enemy, my only and one hate. Why will you not die, you sinister- you sicken me- fool. What am I to you: why leave me here and wishing for my soul to not exist rather than be tainted by yours! You bastard child of deserts and long-forgotten seas, dried up since. What say you to your cruelty? Why be blind?”

And then my head was turned and my plans ruined. For the first time in ages, he fought me with renewed vigor. His wait, sleeping in his own head had brought his power to the same and for what possessed him to choose that moment, to choose this one. “Ahuk!” For he had me quiet, a silent place along the lines of which he sought to oust me. But what success did he think he could have!? “No, no. Rae this is not now. All in due passing will it be brought to you. But not this present! Not here!”

But it was no use. He pushed with whatever will he had left, every bit of effort fit to needle my oppression as if it were an inflated balloon, hovering over him like a red sun. I could only infer that it was futile, and even go as far as to conjecture that Ahuk understood that. But that meant nothing. It was the principle of manner that forced the man to think his passion could break his servitude, his imprisonment, his poisonous decay inside his carapace. Pure emotion became almost enough; a sudden flicker of ether distracted my mental gaze.

It came again. A flash of soul not of either us, nor Mara’s and certainly not Erensuge’s brood- for it was far too weak. It persisted for mere seconds before disappearing; it blinked in and out of the forefront of the wrong soul link but was having trouble forcing itself into being. I realized with near-complete certainty that this was Erensuge’s other soul, bubbling up and, coincidentally, attempting to exert enough that it would appear on another plane and perhaps to yell for help. No other wrong soul would answer. It so happened that I was no typical wrong soul.

My curiosity proved powerful enough a fuel and I found the raw magic locked beneath to bind Ahuk again in place. ”Sleep child; I have no wish to allow you to leave for the terrible place you would go to. My presence is nothing in comparison.” I was temporarily forlorn, isolated so dearly by the fact that I had so much emanating magic was suppressing my soul comrade. It would be in my best interest, however, as I could accomplish more means by not having the same meek appearance as Erensuge; my desired contact might assume me to be feeble.

I reeled in the line, and interfered, tampering with the telepathy to allow my hollow voice to ring true, and only in the conscious I wanted. I queried, knowing the answer, “Who is this that pushes into the channel of stolen souls?”

“Um… ah- who goes there?” It came out considerably more sarcastic than I thought was possible to push into such a bleating comment.

I decided politeness was key, and gave, begrudgingly, “My name is Uuleuhuen. Remember it well. Now, be kind to answer me what person it is that cries so desperately in a channel so full of Wrong Souls? I let you in this mind link for but a jiff and I can oust you just the same.”

“Feel free to try. I have the time.” It was casual. Smooth. I could tell the man voice speaking would be oft-considered charismatic. Naturally, I rebounded with an unexpected comment.

“You are the second soul of Erensuge. He is in the heat of battle with a strange creature at the moment, to which you should be informed is a Lalli’huem named Mara. You have come here because you seek help, no? Ask for it lest I be again hypnotized by the entertaining-“

“You have a way with simplicity.” And for some reason, I could not suppress a smirk at that. It was true, at any rate.

“Let it be that way then. You want the reptile out of your body. I can give you the means… for a price.” The comment, I could tell, was immediately met with a degree of caution.

“And what is your price?” His sarcasm had since fallen away.

“First, I want you to give me the location of a store of silver leaf from the tree of Tailen and make it easy for me to procure this supply. Second, dirty-blood Falith-Hai, I want a favor: a very large favor of which I may call on at any time. Thirdly, your name sir.”

“You drive a hard bargain. And when I say hard I mean ‘nail-my-options-to-the-wall’ hard.” Even then I could tell he was nearly sure he would accept it.

“That is because you have no other options.”

“True. I will accept your deal. I can sense the link waning. The name is Ortze: surname omitted.”

“Good. I have previously made an offer to Erensuge. He wants an artifact of mine, which I will tamper with and give him only part of. The ritual will fail, and backfire on him, reversing the effect. Once he is exiled, you will give me the Periapt back and explain to me where the silver leaf is. If anything goes wrong- for it could- remember that I can break you, boy.” He took it with a grain of salt, bitterly as my precise commentary was.

“Duly noted; and boy? A bit aged are we?”

“You have no idea.” And then the tie was cut; my vision centered on beast and beast inflamed with battle’s bluster, neither gaining any ground.

=====

[Weasel Overlord]

[color=powderblue]Rhee’ualheu Mara Deiis’alu~

My blood pumps in the heat of battle, my senses heightened to their fullest, every part of me alive and waiting…waiting poised for the next move.

Erensuge is a challenging opponent, one which I was not sure I could beat…Although killing him was not necessary, Uul had taken pains to stress this fact,

He merely needed weakening, something I knew I could do.

I tense myself for the spring, he is cunning, I do not trust him.

Furling my wings, I leap at him once more, clawing with nails transformation-lengthened, I rake his face once, feeling delicious blood drip…drip down onto my flesh…

I pause, lick the blood, and feel another rush as the transformation takes over me once more.

I am a hybrid…a mix of Falith, Lalli’huem, and now…more Falith with a Demal taint. I shudder once at the foul touch of a Demal, feathers dropping from wings as the snake lunges in return.

His fangs are sharp, but my task is sharper…my people I will restore…we shall rule once more, leathery wings gracing the skies as they fly, on the hunt.

Prey… I am a hunter, a hybrid being, infused with blood not my own, mixed with my own…

The blood gives me strength and I crouch low, eyes partially close, I stare at the ground through lids stained with blood… a red tint veils my vision like the blood-fury of a hunt and my nails, [claws] tear into the ground, ripping the soft soil, tearing fresh plants…

I almost feel the earth scream, and I chant under my breath a scrap of verse I remember from my better days…

“Dance, o brethren
Dance for the hunt.
For the blood of Sraiyeth,
For the grace of Yreth,
For the light of Ai’hu
Dance.”

My muscles tensed beneath me as I felt the power of a century of my people behind me. Our gods had not abandoned us…their presence, I felt it coursing through my veins.

In that instant, I let fall all of my disguising enchantments, my wings lost their feathers, my memento of a lost love…

My hair became its normal hue once more, black as night with a glimmer of colour.

My wings, green once more…poison green…their claws ready to sunder, to tear flesh from flesh, to rend with poison running deep into veins.

But the poison was not for Erensuge. Oh no, the snake was for Uul…and he would run the course of his plans before I tore my chance from the heart of the Demal people, the despised ones.

I leapt once more, for the last time I sensed Erensuge weaken under my claws. Tearing into his skin, I loosed merely a touch of poison, enough to make his will Uul’s, enough to make him submissive.

-It is done, Mara-

Uul’s voice broke into my flaringly red hunter’s world. I paused, shaking the transformation from my body.

-He is weakened. I have played my part. Now is the time for yours, oh venerable one-

[Plantae]

= Uuleuhuen =

Their parting was entirely sudden, like leaves being blown by a stray zephyr of wind; I looked once and when I looked again Mara had taken to the skies and Erensuge had not made attempt to follow. He warily surveyed his surroundings for a millisecond, a-glare. It was then a sickening sort of smile, the kind that suggested he knew more than you did, and I was sure it was true. She had clawed into the beast but he had not been much distressed. He was weakened, surely, but I think his sound gait as he dashed from the square and into an alleyway with the unforgiving speed of a serpent was a sign that the venom of her talons had been lessened by his own familiarity, by his mithridatism. But the opening had been had, even if talking to Ortze had not been my previous objective.

I wondered too, and immediately: where had Torran gone? In the conflict he had himself been lost to me, and could by now be at any part of the city, or simply watching from some safe corner like I had been. Or many of them, in any case, for misunderstanding Falith-Hai were beginning to flood the streets again, a few in shivers- much of the crowd having been here for the duel- and several more of a primarily distressed disposition. “Wrong souls have come here?” And they had, for the cobblestones where they had fought were littered with pinprick spatter of blood and sweat and grime. Tailen would soon be growingly infested with them; that is to say, like every other part of the world.

But counting my blessings, I had certainly chosen the opportune time to come. When they still had not cunning to notice all of us, and when their cleverness to detect us was frail. I could walk the streets unhindered, as I did, finding myself in want of a hat so that I might tip it to the merchants I passed on the streets. Every now and then I would stop at one of their carts- not to buy one of their knick-knacks- to admire the stand in hopes that it might help camouflage my foreign status here. But perhaps it only made me appear more of a stranger to the city. I feared, in sudden sympathy that could see me; once I met a girl on the street and, my other soul suppressed so, she shot me a frightful glance before departing on swift feet from my presence. I was only lucky enough not to be in company at the time.

I stopped myself and allowed my bodily processes to catch up to their master. I ate merrily and drank merrily at the tavern here, though I could say little for the quality of its wares, and for all the world this normality served to make me forget some of the strain of simple existence. There was, unfortunately, not vacation from the bitter taste left by that stay behind the wall and soon I shunted the embrace of all these people and retreated to the most back alleys and to climes, adobe stairs and abandoned buildings which I haunted and collapsed within one, fed but not full, having slept but not awake, and so I let myself fall back to old routines and meditations. My power had all but been drained and I wanted the whole of it returned; so I sat, hours on end, as evening went to dawn. The sun rose and my long vigil had granted me my powers’ recuperation. I meditated with that Periapt too and, with a basest knowledge of the arcane, manipulated its properties to no real degree. I discarded the original mindly proposition of simply discarding the chain and leaving him the powerless pendant. But the bone-silver chain, ancestral, was not so removable and so I left it. But having turned it over those lackadaisical traveling eventides with Torran- or when I had been allowed- I had mastered it to the degree that accomplishing the means to make it backfire was nay simple, but manageable after securing another day in this uninhabited place in Tailen’s slums.

I stood satisfied as evening came on to evening again and stoically leaned against the wall of the place, looking for all my manner like a young lad of twenty than a man of two-hundred-forty-two. I imagined that snake-king and his minions, and those fangs and poison, and imagined again my own sands, and what happened when one of my victims choked to death by them (and subsequently the feel of poison strangling my lifeblood); these were portents that I did not want to consider, but should I be returning to the border I could make my way into this earth again in time. Still, the dread thought of even returning there even a second was meekly entertained in my deepest considerations; I contemplated to, could he do it, before concluding that should plans go out of order, awry, that Erensuge was quite capable of capitalizing on the moment and murdering this human form of mine. And then I would be sent back. But I digress, the eyes of which I bore the rising moon were still not of fear; they were, however, of an intelligence begetting that I would have fear had I the emotion to put behind it. I had been prepared for the sans senses of old age which never came. I had not been ready for sans emotion.

=

I proceeded with much haste the moment that my call was given its response. And so our conversation had gone on, in double-bluffs and tight negotiations, before he settled that he would find me. That smart look came again to my eyes, suffice to say, when he said it; but as it was his plight, I thought it was his liberty to choose where he would be exorcised. Or so I hoped, if I could hope that is.

I waited with a certain patience but I was not to wait long. Intuition and his sense for vibrations, scents, had probably brought his carapace here in no time. I desperately brooded at this last moment if Ortze had struggled enough not to make it seem something was amiss.

There he was. His eyes were evident in the darkness that had fallen on the place. Crimson hair and golden skin that shone like the lanterns of faeries: I was not sure at that moment if I ever would have been curious to see him in his first body and not this. I decided in the next that I would not have been, for meeting Erensuge was one of those things that it was satisfactory to do once.

The process of the deal was painless. I never caught myself a proper eyeful, that is, to determine how deeply Mara’s appendages had run him. But I suppose I cared not in scheme of it all. He, of course, was assured by my keeping there until the deal was entirely finished. That is, to when he rid himself of Ortze’s soul as I had promised him the periapt would do.

In headache I took not time to absorb what rituals he went about the process with though I knew mine. I ignored his runes and incantations, whispered in hiss. And only began my notice when he suddenly dropped to the floor like a rag-doll and started to shiver. When he started to shake and when he bore up at be with those dark irises and bared his teeth, struggling to speak, and making out nothing. He was sped, at least for now, but I did not smile the back. I could not. I knew for why he had that snarl about his lip in the first place and its being there silenced mine in its entirety.

I watched as his head drooped and after what seemed an hour of wait for the tension, but what I knew in scrutiny to be several minutes, I finally intoned, “Well?”

He spoke, quietly and in raspy voice, “Well yourself.” This was not Erensuge. And he stood, awkwardly and shook his head like he was to shake off the murky tendrils of a nightmare.

“Keep the periapt on. He might attack your body again.” I warned him, but he took it off, somehow confident.

“He will not be returning; he is probably already gone from this place, looking for a body to make his that has an easier disposition for cruelty than mine.”

We stood there, pensive, neither thanking the other. This was business.

And then he went to the threshold of the house and strode away, dourly at first, but quickly regaining a spring in his step that he surely had all along. I followed him, hands in pockets, and keeping a large step to his two. He remembered and tossed behind him and in the air betwixt our separation the amulet of his use. It clattered to the ground and I plucked it up with caution.

Then those aft avenues were behind us and hollow, empty; that is to say, empty save for the simmering deadliness of that slithering soul.

I knew that if he ever found me again, my life might be forfeit. But those honors I had already reserved to myself in my selfishness.

=====

[Weasel Overlord]

[color=#8fbc8f]-Being an account of the creation of the Border, and the heresy inherent in such a creation…
(part one)

The must of the Elder’s room was pervasive. Even after leaving, it lingered about my hair, my stride, until I was sick of the musty odour. As a child, I had always fantasised about meeting the fabled Elders. They were simply a child’s dream, lost in the mists of thought processes. But now, here I was.

They had invited me; an invitation rarely seen by a normal Demal like myself. They had no need of paper and mundane objects like pen and ink. Oh no, these ancient practitioners used a method much more sophisticated.

They called me through my mind. Through a link only the most powerful of our society could form. Only those who supervised the temples and the rituals were able to perform the mind-link, the tuar-al, and it took an even stronger mind to link one to the untrained. The mere fact that they summoned me with this method was a boast of their power.

“Look at what we can do.” It said. “We are so powerful, we can summon an untrained Demal, nay, a child, without even breaking a sweat. Truly we are the leaders of this society.”

And it was true. They were our leaders. Though…exactly who they were was still to be seen. No public appearances in a decade, scant few living Demal could remember what they looked like, even what their purpose was in our society, where so much depended on ritual, sacred and pure.

We had always lived our lives by ritual, prayers to our gods giving thanks for the power of flight, the grace in which we lived, the blessed distance to the antithesis of our race; said Lalli’huem.

Oh, every child knew of those wingéd demons. As alike a normal Demal as could be, yet, differences there were. They were base, uncultured in comparison to the splendour of our great city. Telone. The white city, towering over the landscape, a beacon to all who gazed North. A secret part of every child yearned to meet a Lalli’huem. To look into their fierce eyes, to smell their deadly passion and the leather of their wings, so unlike our own.

It was said that both races evolved from the same. Both wingéd, both ritualistic; for it was true that the Lalli were as reliant of ritual as ourselves, perhaps even more, ‘cepting that theirs covered the hunt, blood and killing, and our own encompassed giving thanks, prayers of love and care, and hope for good harvests. In one way did our societies match, and one way only. We both prayed for the salvation of the soul after death.

Nothing was known of any afterlife, and whether one existed was the subject of much debate by those of a scholarly persuasion, but each and every Demal and Lalli’huem prayed for the souls of their loved ones to pass safe into whatever lay beyond the ether of life. Not even to the most criminal were these prayers omitted. For to move beyond life without these prayers could mean death for that which is most sacred – the soul.
And not even a criminal deserved that.

=

And so I had been summoned. I would go, for it was my duty, but I could not help wondering what it was they wanted with me. I was of no consequence to them, not even of age, still merely a child and inexperienced with magic.

Despite my lack of knowledge, worry poured into my thoughts. Maybe the Elders had turned evil in their years out of good clean sunlight. Maybe they wanted to eat me! Childish fantasies took me over and nearly paralysed me with fear. But I conquered them, for I had been summoned, and to be late was punishable as much as to not appear when summoned. But my fear didn’t leave. Racing through my mind were all the things I had been told about the Elders.

“A healthy dose of respect is advisable…”

“Their power grew so rapidly it became unsafe for them to stay among normal society.”

“…self-induced exile…”

Even with the scant information I had, they were an enigma, and I was to see them!
Squaring my shoulders, I braced myself outside the temple doors.

The great marble structure reared overhead, dwarfing me in its mighty shadow. Coughing quietly, I raised my hand to knock on the beautiful door. Wrought with iron designs the oak door was bleached with long years in the sun, giving it an ancient feel beneath my knuckles which stung to the bone.

Rapping once, the doors swung open, revealing a tiny woman dressed in temple robes.

“Come in my dear, we have been expecting you.” She smiled warmly, and I followed her instructions, crossing the threshold and into the temple.

“You are to go right through.” She pointed off down a corridor. “Go down there then turn left at the second door. It’s a black one, you’ll find it easily.” I nodded and set off walking, hearing my heart beat nervously in the silence of the temple. There was no-one around at this time, but during Midday and Dawn it would be packed with Demal paying their thanks and performing our daily rituals in front of the large dais.

Passing a single door, I glanced at it before passing on. It was covered in twisting vines, eerie in their design as they consume the wood. They seemed to be carved into the wood itself, though they were of a different hue; a silvery grey in contrast to the dark oak of the door.

The woman had said second door on the left, and after about twenty paces I reached the designated area. There was indeed a door, black but unadorned with the vines, a fact for which I was strangely glad. Knocking once more, I felt a whisper in my mind similar to the feeling when the Elders called me, but more potent.

“Come inside.” Shaking slightly, I gave the door a push for there was no discernible way or opening it otherwise. It swung inwards gently, making not a sound, to reveal a misty room.

Stepping inside, I swallowed my nervousness with as much willpower as I could muster, and coughed to announce my presence. Coughing again, I had inhaled some of the smog that swirled around me and it was bitter. Not like any incense I had ever experienced, though I was young.

“Walk forward, young one. Do not be afraid.”

Despite this statement, I could not help but to be afraid. I was about to meet one of the only Demal in society who was worthy of fear. And I suppose it was a healthy fear, too. One which was not easily allayed with promises of safety.

Swallowing my fear, however, I felt would be a good idea for now. It probably wouldn’t be seemly for a revered Elder to see me in such a state as I was working myself into. I had no idea for what he summoned me, and I wasn’t sure that I wished to find out either.

But, gulping as quietly as I could, and with a certainty that he would be able to hear my palpitating heart thumping inside its bone casings, I stepped forward, trying my hardest to embrace the smog into which I walked. To swallow it without choking, and giving away my fears with a splutter.

As I approached, I began to make out shapes in the fog. A large chair, winged on top cloaking the seated figure in a mysterious darkness which merely served to heighten my unworthiness.

The seated figure stretched out a shadowy finger, and I could barely make out the gnarled bones, the twisted knuckles which misshaped the skeletal structure of his hands. The finger beckoned, and I, obeying like a rabbit caught helpless in the gaze of a weasel, walked forward, all fear lost, drowned in the sudden terror which twisted at my gut, threatening to tear me apart. It was at that moment, that the certainty of the Elder’s intentions shone true.

In the last few sevendays, I had heard speak of the creation of a magical device. One so terrible, that it could sway the very war which had gripped the Demal and the Lalli’huem for decades. Such a device could only be arcane it origin. Nothing of such a scale could be tangible without the use of the magic only the ancient Elders possessed. It was also said that they would need a sacrifice to make such a weapon possible. One of immense magical potential, coupled with the driving force of an innocent life, taken under duress, and spent to its full capacity. Such forces, it was speculated, would be the perfect primer for the weapon.

For a weapon rumoured to be the only way to rip a soul from its body and fling it beyond the veil of life was the only way, it was thought, to defeat the ever-strengthening Lalli’huem. For it was true that they grew stronger by the day, ever breeding superior specimens of warrior, tainted with blood from birth which allowed the growth of the driving force that lay behind the Lalli, that which made them fight without reserve. The same which allowed a warrior to stare into the face of death and laugh, spitting as it died, rattling its defiance into the very jaws of the afterlife.

My few years, oh, twenty or so, (and I was still a child in my society) could not allow me to imagine the horror of war. I had not yet reached the age of career-choice, and I had a similar lack of ideas as to what would occupy me in my elder years. After the age of twenty-five, a Demal with no work was a worthless one indeed, and I had no wish to become fodder for the war against the Lalli’huem, unbeatable as they no doubt were. We had, after all, been fighting this war for almost a decade now. At times, or so it seemed to the civilian inhabitants of Telone, the war appeared to be manipulated by some exterior force. By some being outside the blood and death of war.

A sudden thought hit my mind like a beacon. The Elder was reading my thoughts! Shuddering slightly in anticipation of the punishment that would no doubt come my way, I braced my shoulders for the tirade.

...but it did not come. Merely a dusty chuckle, sending a shiver down my spine as it wended its way from the seat, between the fug, and into my ears.

“So. Rumours, eh? Well, little one, you have no idea how true the common people may be...” His voice trailed off huskily, and he coughed violently, beckoning me forward once more.

I felt a pressure on my mind, light as a feather at first, but it soon increased to the pressings of a rock against material, eking out any last vestige of dirt. Unbearable, I clutched my head as I staggered up to the base of the chair, dropping to my knees as I approached, in a motion which was not of my own. In pain, I scrabbled at the stone floor, bloodying my fingers as his plans were finally revealed to my tortured mind.

Through the jumble, I could just make out my name being uttered before I courted the blessing of unconsciousness.

“Reimax...”

[Plantae]

= Uuleuhuen =

He always asked and they never told him, ever and again, why the bogs were so muddy and the marshes so thick with insects. He was always asking questions, and that was what assured him that he would always be one who practiced magic. It was his way, the elders said, of filling the gap in between that which is seen and the curiosity to know how that which is seen came to be. And it worked well, filling gaps, for sand was potent in this field; like the sand in the hourglass too, his days went as quickly. Maybe his childhood was robbed from him. It was highly possible that is, when he was hunting with blowgun and poison dart, learning fast the ways of the tribe, faster even than the typical age of apprenticeship. And no less, a boy under no father was he. But that was no doing of that scythe of his majesty, death, no, but rather the sands; it was of the dust, and ashes, that in time eroded all and everything and became what everything was. Even then he was bitter. Bitter like the wind. Bitter like the harsh desert dunes. Bitter like incense, mystical; but there was no mysticism in that, that is, that which came before. Even sand has a maker and even it is controlled. Like those particles he manipulated, he too was subject the power of the winds. He too would come to know that tie an object, an idea, a feeling down as one might- for he had and he would- inevitability was that deep roots and climes high, all would be blown away.

Uuleuhuen remembered, as he tore a-pace towards his goal, closure to one part of a quest. He recalled the time when he was still young enough to write his thoughts down on parchment.

Wolf Moon, Unknown Day
I have lost track of the days and know only that they pass for fact that the sun still rises. I am blown North with the spirits of my ancestors prevailing again. This curse of mine… be it only in my mind, pushes me further. A wanderer, as my father, and my grandfather am I. I travel without knowing where, or more importantly, when I go. For I have foreseen the closure of my life, even if it is merely my disposition. Never did any man of my kin make most use of his time until he was dead, and so it shall be with me. I do not believe in destiny. But I do believe that having seen them made, and even aware of them, I am prone to make the mistakes my father made. And if it is not further evident by my trade that I will die as he did. It is not fate. It is his cruel hand paving the way for me; he is still in this world though looking he is like all of death’s pale flag hath overtaken him. That is how one appears, hands calloused and fingernails fatally sharp, when one invests his soul in the work of war.

War is a pitiful endeavor. I know this, but yet I am strangely attracted to it; it is this morbid in me, from me, from him, from his father. Walking amongst the carrion reminds me that I walk on, that striding is surviving. I only wish that I could stave this passion, to murder in cold blood my enemies and to repeat it a thousand times over. It is the warrior’s heart in me. It is the lust in me for domination. And the veil will only be lifted, I fear, I know, when the plot is dug thrice over. But there is passion there, what with the men, women too, fighting for their lives. And as terrible as it is, to be within reach of that feral notion of violence is my world. War is peace. That is to say, the peace of my soul is. There was courage there too, and strength, and power, and for that it is my pain to desire war over all satiation.

And so the mercenary lives. Though I met a woman on the streets today. I would not be moved, save for the fact that she was not all there. I could see her pleasant curled locks of mahogany that is, and those prideful muscled arms and that face of steel. But beneath the eyes was missing a heart. I felt compelled to speak with her, if only for that apathy. And I did and watched the language of her body closely. Long story abridged, alcohol and loneliness found us beneath linen sheets. But that was not what was eventful. It was what she said as she left me as such mornings go. She gathered up her own scabbard, fierce as I, and said a thing so striking to me that came from nowhere I knew.

She solved that I valued no life. It is hard to hear it confirmed, true as it is, as my dying heart knows. She spoke that I lived my life for no purpose. I knew she would have cared not for the lives I saved in my time, the towns I have saved for destruction, often without such pay as I demand now. She would not care for what she next said. We spoke, sat and chatted, about the world, and she told me that I had given up meaning. That I did not even value my own life. And with a face torn and as apathetic, a reflection no doubt, she told me that I might as well die. She taunted me. She shed words and challenged me to prove her wrong. I still do not understand what coincidence brought this explanation from her. Why now, and here, and how it fell in so easily like the legends of old. She stood up haughtily and proceeded to stride away. And then I recognized her face, plain as day and plain as it was. She gave impression that she was better. That she could best me. And what were my dispositions but a need to prove that I was superior. Not for ego, but for the laws of nature's reinforcement.

I told her then. I told her that I saw a face like hers in battle, unmistakable. I told her it must have been her brother's or some other close kin. I told her that I drove my kukri deep into his gut. She screeched and lunged for me right in that tavern. We dueled and she fell and I passed her carcass without fear of law, leaving it there to rot, the blood staining the poorly placed wooden floorboards.

And so I lay lost on the crossroads again, the paths, here and the dirt and the muck and myself on the side of a wood and the way to Tailen.

This shall be my final entry in this journal and ironically the first as well. This is my epitaph. I write this because I grow sick with my own wickedness and know that though I could repent, I choose not to. My sadism bars me.

I write this so that one day it can be found. That no matter what acts the future holds for me. What repentance that is likely, possibly following my ceasing to exist. I want to always be remembered as the murderer I was, or hopefully not remembered at all. The crook and the tramp, the dangerous soldier and the bastard is what I am.

For the greatest forgiveness I will ever be shown is to be forgotten. I can rest in peace the moment my passing from the world occurs without a tear.

I have thought for the better part of my life that I hated the stubbornness of people. I realize now that ever and always I have hated myself. And that the ignorance was always mine. Those who do not understand forget the finalist law of the world. There are always opposites. My purpose in this world was necessary evil. It was only through my cruelty that this otherworldly reality can know compassion. And for that my life had meaning.

Uul simpered as he walked. It had been a long time since he had felt need to justify his actions.

=====

[Weasel Overlord]

Hey Asi, I hope that this can help you to join in! ^^ And I grovel excessively if I misused Avi in any way...

[color=silver]~Torran Ylldier~
I thought I was a fool for no-one
But ooo baby, I’m a fool for you
or
engel

The winged one had so resembled a Demal when she stalked into view, but her façade soon dissolved as she reverted back to her presumably natural shape.

Leathern wings, claw-tipped and deadly; black eyes shining with battle-lust that Torran had only seen in the most ancient books. Indeed, she was a creature from the very mythology of his people. A Lalli’huem. Come back from eternal death to haunt his steps in the city of Tailen.

Swallowing hard, Torran’s awe-struck vision took in another sight. This one, or a twin aura. A double aura. Like that which he had seen inhabiting his home, this was a perfectly normal, golden-red aura with a tinge of evil so palpable that he could almost taste it. Green, the colour of serpents, was the association which sprung to mind unbidden. The owner of the aura was no more soothing to the eye, having a strange duality about him which jarred the vision, and as his gaze met Torran’s, a flash of acidic green touched his eyes, making him wince away instinctively.

Glancing over at his companion, he saw that Uuleuhuen was preoccupied with what seemed to be a coming battle, and, making a snap decision, he scarpered, Sulin close behind, no need for words as they fled in silence.

Dashing round a corner, wings flapping, Torran charged straight into an equally fast-moving, equally winged woman. Stumbling backwards, Torran profusely apologised before bowing to the lady and reaching down to pick her up off the floor.

Stood up, she was short. Blue wings and blue hair, she had a mischievous glint in her eye that was currently hidden by a look of worry which darkened her brow slightly.

Fading out of focus, Torran read her aura. A piercing blue untainted by the stain of evil he had come to associate with whatever that malevolent presence was. Glancing at her eyes, he was shocked to see a similar zoned-out expression on her face.

-Maybe she can read auras too- Sulin offered with a smile. -And look, she’s Demal!-
-Part Demal.- Torran corrected without thinking. Shaking his head, he smiled at the woman and held out his hand in greeting.

“I apologise for running into you like that.” Clasping his hand, she shook it vigorously, a bright smile spreading across her face.

“It’s fine, don’t you worry about it. I’m Avi, what’s your name?” Tilting her head to one side, she grinned.

“Torran Ylldier. And this is Sulin, my Spirit Guide.” Torran gestured to Sulin, who was perched on his shoulder, looking pretty. “What brings you to Tailen, Avi?” Her face grew grimmer at this, and a shadow of gloom fell over her fair brow once more.

“I...I uh, felt something. I should be here...” Trailing off, she hit herself in the temple gently. “I wish I knew why, to be honest. But I always have these sorts of things, ya know? I get this need to be somewhere, and I can’t help myself but follow it...”

“There’s evil in the air, even if some people cannot sense it. I, unfortunately, am blessed,” Torran gave a wry smile, “or indeed, cursed with an ability I think that you, also possess. An Aura-reader is always the first to know of evil, and thus has the responsibility of deciding what to do with their knowledge.” She nodded sombrely and Torran knew that she understood.

Smiling once more, she looked to Sulin, all trace of worry gone like a passing squall chased away by sunlight.

“He is gorgeous!” She exclaimed, patting the tiny dragon on his head. Flapping his wings, Sulin chirruped and smiled, pushing his head against her hand. “Does he talk?”

I do talk, young lady, and I thank you for the attention. I had an incurable itch right where your fingers were.” Avi giggled then stifled her mouth with her hand. “Oh, but I heard that only High Guardians have Spirit Guides...”

Her mouth dropped open behind her fingers as she realised the truth of her statement. Torran sighed wearily. “Yes, it is true. I am the former High Guardian of Telone... But I prefer to leave that part of my past unspoken. It contains memories which I do not wish to unearth.”

“You’ll have to face them someday, you know. Can’t run forever.” She wagged a finger under his nose, and he grinned.

“You know, you sound a lot like Sulin.” Glancing at him, Torran rubbed his head happily then sighed. Though I wish we could talk like this for the remainder of the day, I am afraid I must leave this city as quickly as I can. Not only that, but it is nearing midday, and I must perform the Rituals...” A fervent look came over his face and Avi smiled.

“Leaving so soon? What are you afraid of, High Guardian Torran Ylldier? Or do you prefer not to say?” She smiled cheekily but soon returned to seriousness. “Tell you what, we’ll go outside Tailen so that you can do your rituals uninterrupted, and afterwards, I’ll decide what we do next. How does that sound?”

“I think that sounds like a good idea. But we must make haste, is we are to reach a suitable place in time for midday. Sulin, you know your task.” The silver dragon flapped off his perch and glimmered off into the distance, hunting for a sacrifice as he had hunted for so many years.

Stretching his wings, Torran yawned. “Shall we fly? I tire of walking on foot.” Avi nodded enthusiastically.

“It’ll be nice to have someone to fly with once more...” Torran trailed off and sprang into the air, catching a handy current and feeling the joyous tug on his muscles. Turning, he saw Avi the blue-haired follow him into the air, a smile once more on her lips as she hummed softly to herself. Torran was surprised to find that it was a tune he recognised. An old Demal song with the sole purpose of lulling children to sleep in the depths of the night.
His own mother had sang it to him, and his brother long ago, as they woke, startled by nightmarish phantasms lurking in the shadows. Nonsense words they were, but Torran felt an odd significance in their sudden appearance. Maybe he and Avi were meant to meet like this. It could not be coincidence that two Aura-sighted Demal met in Tailen of all places.

The slightly unpleasant feeling of his own destiny unwinding in front of him filled Torran with dread. There was probably nothing he could do. He was probably going to die a grisly death at the claws of a vicious fairy-tale creature from his nightmares.

But hey. It could be worse... At least he was with a woman...

and a pretty hot one at that.

[Plantae]

Here goes a dull post before my obligatory vacation.

= Uuleuhuen =

It was an assassination gone horribly wrong with the odds against him. That is, it was roughly twenty to one. Which translated roughly to the fact that twenty elite guards, humans, but still clever, were after him and not in heavy distance. Luckily for him, human cities were rife with alleyways and dark corners. If this had been a Rae village, now, he would have been dead the moment he had been discovered. Strangely enough- considering life versus death- it made him almost long for home more in its efficiency. He assured himself that once he got out of this one, it was a one-time gig. He had other, more important portents to attend to. Of course, there was still the problem of finishing the job considering how he had left it. The poison he had wantonly dropped in that open bottle on the end table would probably do that and then some. But he was somewhat more pressed to another agenda in the moment.

He scampered up a ladder to a rooftop which contrasted with his intentions for it, being that as he reached it, he was all the more obvious and the thugs below bellowed in his direction. So, with a controlled spout of dust (for it littered this flat adobe brick), he catapulted himself to the next and so followed while trying to understand how it was that one dodged arrows, exactly. In the meantime, though, he could not resist editing the number dogging his steps, so he tossed a congealed bit of it down and three men grabbed their throats, collapsed, and began choking. He would consider the man lucky that lived among them. To his amusement, one Good Samaritan stopped along too. Unfortunately, sixteen was not all so much less than twenty.

When he reached five roofs down he ducked out of sight and beneath the low rise of wall that walled in the surface. He took a prone position and pondered, quietly. He could not likely expect reinforcements, being of whom that was really and thus it could only be entertained that he wade through this muck of trashy paths and out of this hamlet. Had he the time, he might have wondered how a thorp so seemingly docile had such a militia and such prominent citizens, such as his supposed victim. However, one seldom has that measure when he is again dancing by shingles, slats to at least out-speed a few. And that it was that he found himself with another fallen behind, maybe fifteen yet. That helped him little, but it was assistance in the barest sense of the word. When he hopped to what could have been his dozenth or his twentieth, he looked up and realized just how much at the heart of the city he was and the fact that his chances of surviving were less than a 50/50 grab.

The man that was to become Uul grabbed hold the rope aside the building and slid it down, reaching the cobblestones to infuriated yelling. It seemed like these days it was only but every other city that he ended up in, that is to say, which he was not called for a murderer and chased through the streets. Of course, he was exaggerating and being unnecessarily cynical, as a man of forty-some was wont to do. He choked off a few guards as he dashed into a very narrow passage and it was here he whipped around and spouted a plume of particles, a few more collapsing in their wake, and now he was temporarily out of sight: he hid in the stables just fifty yards off, and, catching the place unattended, began strapping up a horse and cooing it with a certain empathy. It bucked, whinnied, as no Rae was much a horseman. But it would do as he calmed it with a handful of oats and a gentle caress, making sure he kept in front of it. He had never had experience with being kicked by such a ponderous beast and he had no intention of having such an escapade this moment.

But he overestimated what was blind obedience to chance as a brace of guards made their way and would have not noticed save for the stableman returning from a meal or two, judging by his dispositions to be starved, and shrieked out (in a tenor ring, for he was but a boy) that someone was stealing the horses. Which of course convinced the guards to turn at which point the to-be-Uuleuhuen was astride, saddled about a chestnut stallion. He would have looked regal save for the fact that he was half off said horse and rather deplorable by his now-seeing of the coming enemies. But he reared it to a trot, then a ferocious gallop and over and out of the wooden pen he went and down the street through merchant carts and malleable crowds and clopping all the way on his steed which was quite unimpressed by his handling or so it would seem by the fact that it was not going entirely the direction he was spurring it to. At the very least, it was not going in reverse.

The whole matter was almost humorous but in interest of time it was better he get out of the city than kill half its guards and then depart. Otherwise he thought, grimacing as the arrow in his shoulder bit in, he would gladly slay them all. The idea brought a wicked smirk to his countenance. He was counting his blessings at this moment, really, and they ended most explicitly with the fact that she was not here. That of all the people in the world, she was not about this time in the least; thank anything. As much as such duels (hopefully one day to the death, but thus far kept blissfully interrupted) would amuse him, he had not the want to have a demoness about him again. It so turns out that when one does not mind their surroundings, as they'd so forgot last time they had encountered one another: suffice to say it ended with fire and screaming. That was typical wench, really, or so he was sure she was. If she had any heart, there, it had since turned to destitution. Or so he liked to think. The fact that there was a beating, functioning sense of love bubbling nearer the surface made his own body sick, cruel as he himself might be.

It was distinctly unlike him, with his graying hair and grim manner, to be so careless in his assassination. But how subtle can one be, would say he, and as he had said his employer, when one is ordered to murder a man in broad daylight at the annual festival and feast. Yes, indeed, it was somewhat so trying to be stealthy as it was to say, do so, when one stomped on top of a sheet of glass. But that could be his cynicism speaking as it usually did. Really, it was quite a vicious turn from his usual and similarly despot-like demeanor. He promised himself, in a moment, that this was the last before he returned to the real mercenary work. That commodity of his employer's had been his only real draw in the first place.

Then it was that occurred a portent he had not considered. Mainly, there was a great lurch and a neigh like all hells, the horses of the apocalypse released, and a beauteous cry of anguish as the creature beneath him gave way and toppled to the pavement. He bailed at last second, tumbled, rolled along the ground several feet, and hoped that when he stood up he would not be surrounded by those fifteen men still after him. He might have had some consolation for that stable hand that was to have a problem, being the rarity of such a fine horse like that he'd stolen. But he was more concerned, as he stood, with the fact that his own wishes had not been fulfilled. Mainly, when he first glanced up there were fourteen gathering and he might have done penance right there, even godless as he was. But then he saw the last and he gave a sigh, imagined himself giving irony that one universal gesture, and tossed a miasmic torrent of dust, ash, fog and even speckled blood without mercy and without claim as to who or what he injured. He, in Iugk trained, pulled that kukri too, and there stood ready for those that did not find themselves prostrated and in need of assistance of the lungs. As it turned out, only three stood, though he was in dire straits for his wanton targeting of the others anyway.

There was a tightly but fittingly robed one, only a spell-caster marked by those tattoos above his eyes which so stood him out. Otherwise he'd have mistaken the brute for a gladiator. The other two must have only been smart enough to be missed, as they were frail, scrawny of build and only of the cusp of adulthood. Still, with his energy low and that other spell-caster gently but knowingly simpering, it was but more than a hypothesis that even these frankly short and better proportions of battle were against him. Such was multiplied when he took note of a six-pointed star badge on the sage's chest, mark of the Justicar, the tumultuous law-abiders and do-lawyers of human kind. Hopefully such an infrastructure, for even outside he saw the upheaval of human lords and ladies, would fall into disarray and make future forays into this country less futile. For yes, even in face of this, he was still rather well-confident that this was not a near-death situation, no; of course, considering the alternative meekness, it was for his own good.

In half a minute it was locked stares and one further body of a younger guard, the other of the two having fled. That Uul was doing his best to repel what was a ferocious couple fireballs with sand, which was, in retrospect, not the best of maneuvers. And then he saw her, gallivanting towards with her wings spread and instilling that fear she did. He felt not need to remind the mage, who was soon to penetrate his last bit of magic and protection by it, that there was a Lalli'huem behind him. He was then, but not Uuleuhuen, surprised when talons bit into his neck and he raised it to the sky, loosing concentration and choking and spitting blood- never seeing the face of his killer- before collapsing to the ground. He did not stay to see her feast. He had seen it far too often and though he had grown past the nausea, it was still worth a mindly digression of sanity. Even as he retreated into shadows, though, the ring of his life saved by her was brought to him; it was so especially by the yell forth in a feminine and virulent pitch, "A favor, sage of sands!"

Had he known she was assigned to stalk him too this mission he might not have taken it. But in truth he probably had known. For now, he was satisfied to go with but a few more hairs lost and still more frayed and grayed. He would doubtlessly loose more brooding. Favors were a demon's boon. Yet he was curious as to what value he had to his contracter, that which hired him, that he would send his other hired hand, Mara, to make lucid but a scholary dust-mage's survival.

He reflected quietly, too, that she had probably finished what was his charge. That is- for it would have been regardless- the human king was dead.

=====

[Asilynne]

Name: Avi "Wings" McLochlan
Age: Appearing to be 16 but is actually 23
Sex: Female
Race: Half-Breed (Demal/Old Human)
Appearance: Slightly short Blue hair, red eyes. Short for her age, shes only about 4'11" and though she looks younger than she is, she is a full grown woman. Likes to wear loose, flowing garments that flutter in the wind. Her wings are blue like her hair, and the markings resemble those on a blue jay. I guess they would be slightly smaller than a regular Demals, but still flight worthy. (pic coming soon)
Magic: Telekinesis....and.....(any suggestions Overlord?? ^-^())
Personality: Spunky, Mischeivous and very curious, shes always everywhere shes not supposed to be. Growing up in her human dads town, (with her mom always away guarding the border) she was the only one who had wings, so the children nicknamed her "Wings". While any other person might be ridiculed being the only one in town that was so obviously different, her lively, bright, and loyal personality (plus the fact she could take the smaller children on rides through the sky) earned her friends. Since she was largly raised by her dad she learned the human way of life, and doesnt know much about her Demal heritage. Has the passionate heart and adaptability of humans.
Other: Possibly Aura sight, if approved

~Avi "Wings" McLochlan~
Follow in your mothers footsteps, with a spirit like your dads...

"Wings!!! Wings please come back! We want to fly!"
The children called to me as I walked out of the village, begging me to come play their games with them. Smiling a little sadly I called back, "Im sorry little ones! Wings must go defend the border so the little ones can grow up safe!" I got quieter as I took flight, leaving the confused children far behind. Sighing for a moment my usual cheerful nature was subdued. "Little Wings isnt so little anymore...."

I remembered why I left home, father and I havent heard from mother in far too long. There was talk that the border had been breached, that evil things have gotten out, and so I just had to go. My mother could need me, and most of all, the border must be protected! It was (no, IS Avi-chan!) very important to mother that the border be secure. I will make her proud and help secure it if she....cant....
But she is fine! We ll guard it together when I get there....
Suddenly, after flying for quite some time, I saw something stange down below. A pulsating blue light, and near it was a writhing red/black cloud, that seemed to reach for and try to swallow the blue. Something didnt look right about it, it was unnatural somehow. Angling downward, I landed about 10 feet away, and saw it.

It was a person of some sort, but this person gave me weird vibes. Sickening vibes, almost like it was nausea personified. A sense of dread rose in me and I felt I would be sick. The there was the blue light....
It was a man with wings, and abruptly I felt better just by looking at him. Where the red made me sick, his blue made me want to laugh out loud, it tickled me so. I was spellbound by watching it when----
I suddenly found myself on the floor.

And with that unceremonious introduction, I met Torran Yllder for the first time.

As we flew off together I told him of my quest to guard the border. And though I had a certain dread in asking, I had to know.
"Hey Torren, what was that red thing back there?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sorry its so short but itll get better as I go and get more confident on how to play everything in this world ^-~

[Plantae]

= Uuleuhuen =

I could almost feel the fabric of the silver leaves under the grasp of my enclosed fists, clenched in anticipation for the much-needed unguent of a future ritual. My anxious nature was precipitated too by our passing of the Baobab, towering and worshipped. Its veined gray leaves would act as a powerful passade, strengthened by the world tether of belief: thousands of years of pilgrimage and a new set of leaves every year. The potency of such a reagent increased each time; I knew not the policies of Tailen's people. Perhaps they were blind to the fact, or even finding taking from the tree blasphemous. But surely the leaves were to be shed in autumn regardless. I had not a whisper of a care as to Falith-Hai morals.

The ring-like streets of Tailen were surprisingly avid in their activity considering their usual sanctity. I was admittantly suspicious of each curve, and each guard on post, and of my partner in crime himself. His intentions to me were clouded, though maybe if I tried I might guess with some degree of accuracy. What would go on in the young boy's head, when, yes, he was without the presence of Erensuge. I feared that the favor, almost as precious to me as the silver leaf, would be disregarded by this young man. As my luck would have it, his expression remained unreadable through our journey amongst the adobe and greens. I hardly paid attention to my surroundings; but I did, in slight, for no man survives as long as sixty-seven without some degree of perception. Nothing was out of place. I rubbed my hands together nervously. I kept a fair distance behind him as to conceal my own scant and sliver emotions. A scheme was coming together as I had wished it to, as it was so planned, with the procurement of this first ingredient. Or, I reminded myself, the second; the periapt had been the first and I hoped that this would not have anywhere near as violent an end. I doubted my capacity to deal with a threat, fatigued as I was.

And it was in that moment of thought that I was blind-sided by a sudden effort, an assault, not from outside but internal once again. A needlepoint was driven into my chest and I collapsed and wheezed violently, several civilians eyeing me with question and a potter across the street halting her pottery for a second to observe me. But I scarcely comprehended this as nausea rolled over me and I realized he had broken through in that instant, even if in only a small amount, and I felt my hand, or his, unwillingly or purposefully raised. A flick of the wrist and a projectile was lifted skyward and then tossed. I tried my best to avoid his wishes, but my concentration abated by the hindrance and the utter agony of a high velocity ceramic bowl slamming into my head. It was at that point that Ortze turned to give a pointed and questioning look and a scan for an aggressor, the one who caused the spectacle. The others who had seen the sight in full simply looked on as my eyes glazed, of his accord, and a plate smacked hard into the side of my head. This bludgeoning's aftermath had me again manipulating the muscles, and suppressing him; the damage was done.

The woman who had owned the pottery had no idea what had happened but realized that her plate and bowl were still as she had left them when she looked again. But the blood amongst my matted tendrils of hair was evident and Ortze stared enigmatically. Then his eyes flashed and I could tell he understood what had just gone on. He made no mention of it and instead intoned, "Let us hurry." His countenance was blank, and though I could bet he had discovered due to obvious hints my nature before, the fact that I harbored another's soul was a curiosity. One that likely reminded him of Erensuge's own domination and for it I could tell he bore hard feelings. But a pact was a pact. He owed me a favor and the silver leaf, whether he liked the dealer or not.

Not to assure him, but for myself, I still declared, "You have no idea of my intentions." He did not respond.

I was preoccupied by Ahuk's regression inside my mind for the rest of the walk and made sure no such spout of anger would flare again. It was such that I did not notice but by a brief statement from Ortze of, "Wait here." I did. Patience was one of my talents, in the very least. If I had been in doubt of his motives before, I was quite baffled now. I knew any trust he might have had would have long since vanished. In all likeliness there was nothing there in the first place. Surely he was not the sort that would report my presence to anyone? He seemed no brave hero to me, or at least thus far, and I hypothesized that he was probably smart enough to leave me alone. Still...

The time passed without any sense of rapidity. I stood stoically. I had no idea how long he had been absent, but surely he would have taken the leaves by now. What could possibly be occupying him? Then I thought of his next of kin, if he had them. I thought of them meeting him halfway and him telling them the story. I thought of dealing with Tailen's severe guards, pikes, and how I had thought my days running from guards were past. It was no matter. It was probably but my paranoia. I hunkered down in a niche of stone, an alcove, should he have any adverse ideas. I could tell I was overestimating the period since he had left. I had time as needed and was under no constraints of it, so I supposed it matter not when he returned as long as Ortze did and with what I had charged him.

Then he was trundling out of the threshold of the door with a small wooden box in hand. I looked at it hungrily as he scanned the streets, unawares as to where I had gone. I stepped from the shadows and his surprise was slight. I was entranced by the box, not by it, per se, but what were surely its contents. I made no movement to take it from him, fearing that he might drop it and spill its contents and offered up my hand with a demanding look. He placed the box there, in my palm, small as it was; I did not open the lid for a moment more, and then I took a deep breath, cautiously move my face far from it, and hesitantly opened the container.

It was all there and it assured its authenticity with a sharp, crisp sound of withered plant matter. There were a number of them, neatly placed inside and stacked so that the maximum amount could be held within. They had not been crushed yet and no trap sprang to stop me, nor did Ortze but fidget slightly as I observed my gray find. I looked up, to the box, and then glanced at him again before I began to stalk casually away. Closing the lid, I muttered to my back, "Remember the service you owe me." I left Tailen's gates that night and put myself en route on foot to Marrustil.

=====

[Weasel Overlord]

blech... mediochre. Apologies. There may be a more plotty post before I go on holiday... who knows!? *shrugs dramatically*
Asi: We should go back to Tailen for now, but don't leave, cos I've got plans for us! I'll talk to you about it on msn at some point, yah?

[color=silver]~Torran Ylldier~

“That was… a mixture of auras. The colours sometimes meld together, and those two…” Torran shuddered a little. “Those two have the most evil auras I have ever seen. But enough on that. Look! That tree would be perfect.” Swooping down to land, Torran scooped up the little bird Sulin had caught and, laying it in his palm, he bowed his head for a swift and silent prayer.
Opening one eye, he realised that Avi was looking at him curiously as he prayed. Perhaps she had never seen the rituals of the Demal before…

“What are we going to be doing here, Torran?” She enquired, eyebrow raised in question. “I’ve never seen a Demal ritual, w-would you mind if I just watched?” She looked slightly nervous about the whole thing, and Torran was quick to smile and put her mind at rest.

“Don’t worry; it’s not scary or anything. All I’m going to do is sacrifice this little bird here,” He held out the tiny swallow, “And offer prayers to our gods. I could teach you some, if you’d like…” Torran had missed Telone since he had, um, left. He missed its spiralling towers, white and pure, the temple where he lived, and the aura of religion and quiet that permeated every wall of the great building. Giving a little shudder, he banished an unpleasant memory before continuing.

“The prayers are quite simple to remember… but, I mean, you don’t have to, if you don’t want to…” He broke off, looking unsure, but Avi grinned widely.

“I’d love to learn about the Demal! It’s a side of me that I’ve always wanted to know more about, but I never knew anyone who could teach me… You wouldn’t mind, would you?” Torran smiled in return, thankful for such a cheery comrade in these dark days.

“My lady, I most certainly would not mind. In fact, I would enjoy myself as much as you. I miss my old life somewhat… maybe this can bring me closer to home…” He trailed off, a hint of sadness in his eyes. Glancing up at the sun, he squinted before determining that it was the right time of day, and squatting down in the grass beneath the large oak tree. Patting the ground next to him, he gestured for Avi to sit too, before pulling out some chalk and outlining his sigil with the utmost ease and speed.

Laying out the little bird on his left palm, he flicked his wrist, releasing the little knife from its sheath.

“The sigils are unique to the High Guardians, which is…ah, was my job back home.” Something about this girl made him want to talk, to share his life, something that wasn’t usual for Torran, who was reticent for the most part, while being snappy and unapproachable for the other. Avi unlocked something deep inside him, something that made him wish to bring the events of his past to light, to remove them from the deep places in his heart and make them public.

“A normal Demal has no sigil, but the bird is an essential part of the ritual, which must be performed every day, at Midday. Which is why it’s called the Midday Ritual.” Avi looked fascinated at all this information, nodding her head enthusiastically at each new piece. Though she looked a little sympathetic for the swallow in Torran’s hand.

Pressing the tip of the knife to the birds’ chest, he spoke the first words of the ritual, calmly and slowly, so that Avi could hear.

“With this sacrifice, we thank you for our blood…” Pressing harder, Torran drew a droplet of blood which pooled in a perfect bead on the cream feathers of the swallow’s plumage.

“With this sacrifice, we thank you for our flight…” Tracing the line of bone from wing to wing, he joined the droplet at the centre with a pair of perfect red lines.

“With this sacrifice, we thank you.” Flipping the knife, he caught it by the handle and thrust the tip into the centre of the crossed lines, deep into the body of the bird as it convulsed once, twice, then was still.

Placing the little blade on the grass, he bowed his head once, closing his eyes for a final, private prayer, then dabbed a finger in the blood to anoint his forehead. Proffering his bloodied finger to Avi, he caught her look of astonishment, which turned to disgust and finally flickered to respect and awe. So she had witnessed the ritual of the Demal. Bowing her own head, she accepted the sacrificial blood with only the slightest of grimaces, and Torran smiled.

Picking up the knife, he placed the body of the bird in its place before grabbing a handful of grass to clean off the blood.

“And what did you think of that?” Torran held a proud smile for the first time since he had left Telone, as if a heavy burden had finally been lifted from his shoulders.

“It was… awesome!” Avi looked almost breathless. “When can I learn more!?” Torran chuckled. She reminded him of himself as a youngster.

“Don’t worry, it won’t be long. But for now, there’s trouble in Tailen that needs dealing with.” He shook his head uncertainly. “And I’m willing to be that it’ll be dangerous…”

[Plantae]

= Part 0: Laundry to Launder and a Mirth-Ridden Phenomenom =

At the frothy stream near her enclave in Marrustil, a fit old crone kneeled heavily on a hempen mat, whistling a cracked, off-pitch tune as she crudely scraped the day's laundry against a flat rock on the bank. Of course, flat was relatively, the same rock she'd settled to use for the last fifteen years she had been at this rank in the "high society" of Rae culture. Generally the menial task before her was assigned to servants though she fibbed and told her council that the tranquility relaxed her; she was a swell liar. It was an asset in the err-ea (or area if you wanted to be less nice) of political manipulation. She could have bobbed off, of course, without the "laundry" cover, but that'd have been a bit too suspicious. She had maintained her position for this erroneously exaggerated and history miscast but still lengthy period of time by being careful, or more so methodical, but mostly for having the mental capacity required to actually keep a secret. Contrary to popular belief, this was quite small, and so was said for the ignorance of the rest of the populace. And, for the record, she was not whistling. She was calling- in a rather crumpled and irritatingly accented manner to her subjects- the winds. However, this was not for any dramatic and likely overemphasized magical campaign, but merely because slightly rotund as she was, the swamps were rather stuffy in the mid-bloom of the sun's daily course.

She did have intentions at hand, however, but there was another tip. She thought, perhaps, when she was near death, that she might write a book on the maneuvers of a smart woman: a modern woman! But then again, she never was that ample in the department of sharing. Besides, writing was such a chore to her. Fools as they were, they undoubtedly did not deserve her magnificent advice anyway. Those warrior leeches had been siphoning it for quite a time. But yes: consolidate power and keep it safe. In this case, she had a certain magical aptitude, but she would be damned if she would let anyone see her use it. Eventually they would probably get it; no, scratch that, they would not. They had attributed her keen sense for inner and outer threat, as well as her charming totalitarian war strategies, as wisdom until now and it was unlikely they would "wise" up, so to speak. She guffawed less than primly to herself; she had a somewhat mannish titter, oxymoron as that was.

But enough show. Pushing back her beaded, age-whitened braids accessorized with miniscule bones (and itchily tweaking her quartz-bead necklace), she procured from the pocket of her less-than-fanciful, so-named dreary, bleach-stained, gossamery, salmon peasant's robes a small, filthy pouch. After a cursory and nonchalant glare at her bald spot, and a similar one to her "respectable-" in this case actually meaning repulsive feature of age- missing teeth she began to cast thoughts from her mind, weighty stones in a sea of murk: the bog of her consciousness resisted this pulling.

Unlike most of her seer compatriots, who seemed to have tragic accidents and end up a bit "squinty," i.e. blind, she had perfect vision. She did not have any ocular differences. Well, if you did not take into account the third eye in the center of her forehead (concealed by a reed basket-weave headband in a dyed azure, which was colorblind to a degree and saw everything with a horrid lavender tinge and a sort of grainy texture) and the fourth but cataract-ridden marble, lolling about slightly out-of-socket, centered at the back of her scalp and buried by stringent hair; the last only noticed auras, ironically. The fourth gave her considerable trouble making use of her often "misplaced" aura sight, that is, it mixed up the auras of nearby creatures and, if it was fickle or sarcastic, made her see in polka-dots or some other zigzag-esque garish pattern. Each eye was a different color: the eye at the back glazed with brown like oak's bark, the third eye of gray mists and granny's apple iris, left eye a blinding dandelion, and the last retained a safe, luxuriant baby blue. People often focused on her right eye to prevent from growing dizzy, and thus she had a lot of conversations with people in her peripheral vision due to avoidance of the sight of more than one eye at once. So, all of that taken, it was perhaps accurate to say that she blended in as well optics-wise with another of her race as a rock blends in with a pillow (even if they are sometimes interchangeably useable for the same purpose). Still, due again to clever tactics... this remained concealed. She always kept the third covered by a swath of braids and that head-covering. The fourth was similarly hidden by thick locks. It was part of the reason her bald spot was frustrating her. Perhaps there was a mage well-practiced in hair regrowth around here. She reconsidered that option. One, because there would be no such oddball… and two: she wanted to keep her head.

But she could not stand to be sidetracked at this exact moment. No, not as the pebble dropped into the water and rippled gently in the still side pool she washed her clothes in. A coifed edge, dissipating so quickly... particularly ridged at a close glance, and sweeping were they. Memories in the water and the delicate scent of sand emanated. A traveler was coming to her. Her hydromancy proved it true, and, by the poignant field and the almost white-crested pool, she concluded she best harbor him and well. His soul was brittle and his mind tasted distinctly like agony and dust.

With wary, dainty steps, heartbeats against the earth which pulsed alongside, she sauntered her return to the palisade above. She had diplomatic relations to resolve between tribes and there was a tidy issue to do with that issue nagging the back of her mind. She cherished her secrets. She gathered up her clothes, probably miffed at their half-cleaned in absent-mindedness, sad state.

She had more pressing matters to attend to. For one: she felt an obsessive need to give one of her house members a task involving back-breaking work that possessed no real purpose but to amuse her sadistic need for someone to receive reprieve for her fifteen-years laundry scrubbing. Her son had arrived yesterday. She swore she could not count the number of times she had thought about poisoning him on the nineteen digits available to her; in fact, she could only twitch either pinky. In the case of the right, it was imaginary twitching.

But even Zilya, antiquarian woman of leaves, of mourning and the twilight, and the head of the house of ancestry, knew she had to make them aware of this one. Those at the edges of their conglomerate clans knew it already. However, it seemed it might as well be she that made sure the council knew well of Telone’s… lazily slouching towards being more disposed to a wrecked status of being. Or so she was likely to explain it, in concordance with political context where she was obligated to use what were not quite lies, but sort of an underwhelming descriptive insanity, to obscure verity.

Of course, being a Rae true to her wild and restless still-carrying patriotism spirit, scarred by the Demal war even though she was not present, and fuming due to a certain issue with a wall that most seemed to refuse existed or was a threat to an afterlife, Zilya would not pace back and forth and panic when she presented the border’s fall. In fact, what she’d do in that situation had been plastered on her face for the past couple weeks now. Her servants had noted the arrangement of her features with interest and what was, surely, some small amount of abhorrence and insatiable awe; in fact, they had spent the space of time wondering what murderous thing she’d done to be so… out of character. The muscles had not been used in an era and so it resembled some rabid animal.

Zilya did not smile often.

=====

[Weasel Overlord]

Well, here is a post. After so long, I apologise...

[color=powderblue]~Rhee’ualheu Mara Deiis’alu~

Finally free of favours, I could pursue my own task with the utmost fervour. I had taken it upon myself to be the sole protector of my people, yet I believed that I needed help, something which had taken a while to come to terms with, for I was a proud soul, and unwilling to admit that I needed help.

But alas, help I was in need of, and so, my service to Uul, oh darling Uul, finished at last, I was on my solitary way to Telone once more. The place of my re-emergence into the world of the living.

After my battle with Erensuge, Uuleuhuen had disappeared off with the remains of the snake, leaving me unthanked, but exhilarated from the hunt. My heightened senses had picked up the unmistakable scent of the High Guardian once more, and this time, he was not with Uuleuhuen. A fact which I was certain to be able to make use of, if I only acted swiftly.

Shaking the last vestiges of illusion from myself, I allowed my commanded body to take on it’s original form, that of the dowdy Demal female whose soul I had ousted. Shuddering slightly at the transformation, for I did hate the Demal so, I gathered myself and my tattered clothing and strode off to meet the High Guardian, and another, whose company he kept.

Though I knew not of the Guardian himself, his soul-signature was like a beacon to my sensitive mind. He shone through a darkening world with an otherworldly light that was attractive in its own way, and yet repulsive at the same time. I vowed to get to know him some more...

Striding through the gates, I found the pair fluttering down to land, chattering among themselves and accompanied by a small dragon I took to be the Guardian’s Spirit Guide.

Saluting them, arms and wings outstretched, I watched for a reaction beneath lidded eyes. Astonishment on the face of the male, and a candid smile on the face of the girl.

Standing upright, I raised an eyebrow at the pair before introducing myself. I had an alias ready and waiting, for use in situations such as this one, and I donned it like a well-used garment.

“It is a pleasure to finally meet one of my own race, let alone two in one place!” I exclaimed. “I was beginning to weary of Tailen, and to despair of ever finding any Demal stranded here as I am.” Smiling slightly, I sighed dramatically. “For Tailen is soboring at this moment! I hope that you do not take offence to my presumptuous nature, but may I ask what you know of the plight of Telone? For I miss my city dreadfully, and I long for news of her...Oh, silly me, I have not introduced myself...” The pair looked dumbstruck at my ramblings, and I smiled inwardly. This was going to be easy!

“My name, good sir and madam, is Whirra Talex, and I am glad to make your acquaintances.”

The male, the one I knew to be the Guardian, looked dubious at my introductions, but he saluted anyway, a flourish to the wings which highlighted his high place in society.

“The name is Torran, madam, and my companion here is Avi. I am afraid to say that we know nothing of Telone’s plight, though we dearly wish to return to her.” He nodded towards me. “But alas, we have business in Tailen, and we would not like to keep you from yours. Good day, madam. And may we meet again in more fortuitous circumstances.” With that he ushered away the girl, Avi, and both scurried off deep into Tailen.

I glared suspiciously after them, but decided against pursuit. There was something decidedly eerie in the way they had regarded me, and I didn’t want to stick around to find out why.

Launching myself into the clean air, I sighed. It was time to get to Telone. And to get myself a helper.

Tasting the wind, I let my Demal guise fall, and reverted to my own appearance, leathery sails filling with thermals as I glided far above the ground, in my element.

It would not be long until I arrived at Telone, I had always had a swift flight. And there the future of the Demal race would be decided...

[Plantae]

= Part 1: Purpose of Freedom and An Obscene Tango =

If one spends so much time pretending they are not of the race of their birth, eventually they begin to believe it so. Truth is, I am not of my belligerent build by anything short of my own preoccupation with war, not that of my culture. The Rae have been called a warlike people, savages, but that is a misnomer as much as it would be to call me a sage. For as much as I gave the appearance of a scholar sometimes, and the Rae exuded a so-called carnal lust for blood and violence, I was a killer and they a people moved by quite a different motif. The Rae, upon close inspection- beneath the shroud of the recent crusade against the Demal where we were portrayed as murderous- are a secretive and flighty people. We loved the damp and the dark; it was verily so. The reasons, though: the dark pervaded with sound and smell and all but a faulty sight, as our illusions demonstrated the world relied too much on. The damp we liked so for the beat of ancestry deep beneath those marshes and for all of what passed in water. Their archaic way of life was as often associated with a primal mind. In the end, however, the Rae are as much musical as they are mystical. Do not misunderstand me: Rae do not mull around with flutes and strings and things. Rae music is of the heart, of the rhythm of all, breaths on the wind and the crackling flame or the whisper of wind through the night. Their misperception by all other peoples of this fair earth was that so often it was confused that what they loved was the melodic drums and that feverish, empowering crescendo of wringing the life and heat of a man with your own callous hands. These were instead the subsistence of only me and mine. But slyness was not.

The unguent of the last would be found in such a manner. It was the third and my final sin in one or so I was to hope. I needed to seek the private council of two in Marrustil; my knowing of each was roughly in and of the same. So was my preoccupation with the task that as I passed thatch and wood and overgrowth, I thought nothing of the antiquarian status of the village. But I did remember the way to the homes of the high of each house and by the information I had gathered knew where to find the first of those women I needed to see. A wise witch, an old crone, and one dear to me by nothing short of the fact that what ran through her veins ran in mine. Hers was a yurt high up the walkways of the swamp, over tree boughs and past places of commune. I did not risk coming far within the slow canter of the Rae that toiled in the humidity, for aura sight was often something less of a rarity among a people who reveled so much more in the music of the soul. When her pavilion was reached, I avoided the sight of her man standing guard outside; I dropped into dust and used what little movement of the wind there was to invasively slither through the cracks in the door. I hadn’t even changed my form yet when I heard the absent-minded intonation of, bitter with years of wary deception and across the room of me, “Inform me a rationale as to why I should not summon the sentry, cretin.” The wry display of wit and method only made me twitch with complete familiarity.

=

"Because you wish to know more of me." I had been but pouring a cup of herbs and strong drink when he had entered, the one I knew would come. He thought he could fool me with a strange form and manner, possibly aberrant to me. But I was aged: more than he, it looked, as he morphed into a twenty-some youngling with lines on his face as if he was some sort of dragon. His arrogant stride were all the mark of one so light of the world and what he thought was his mind's maturity was a headache upon my consciousness. His answer remained correct. This only served to intensify my subtle hatred of the man, whoever he might be. He was certainly not more powerful than I, I gambled. I hadn't been wrong before.

"Gently place the kukri on that shelf there, if you would be so kind." He did so without hesitation. The simplicity of which told me all I needed to know about his skill in magic. He was confident he could kill me even without that weapon of his. I slipped my hand under the table at the center of the room as he did so and pulled the lever to open the trapdoor switch. It would only be a twitch of my finger upon any of the myriad of levers in the room to displace him a few stories down should he attempt anything too nasty. That assumed he actually chose to sit in the chair I had reserved for his coming where a second cup of my own beverage sat growing no colder. But of precautions there were many more for me to activate now. Still while he placed the implement I moved my chair back towards the bowl of water resting casually on an obstinate, wiry, wood bookshelf with a disposition of elevation that suggested poor craftsmanship. The floor creaked proportionally, but he did not turn, for which I was lucky. I put sorcery to make my location seem as it were by the table where I was displaced truly five feet behind and two to the left with a hand on one of the aforementioned switch devices. The other held a pebble hovering over the bowl with a quiver, dually from strain of keeping the position and due to a trigger-happy want to drop it in. All of this was done in a space of several seconds. Then he turned and sat exactly as I had wanted him to. The illusory figure's face remained expressionless where its caster, I, smirked. I did feel the tinge of stupidity, though, as I realized the cup of drink was with verity on the table. "Why do you hail here, intruder?"

"I seek to discuss a matter of importance with you." Hiss, lie... the cur. Then his expression twisted and he pointed behind the mirage and almost straight at me but slightly left of the shelf and, "What is that?" Before I could stop myself, goddamnit, I revolved in place and looked as did the mirage. I ducked as I cursed quietly, though the fata morgana did nothing of the sort, to avoid any sudden moves by the Rae. Still I looked and noticed a widget of my own devising there. I called it that and had enchanted its stringy circle and tasseled form to best capture intentions. Or so I had thought. All it seemed to do now when divined was grab the childlike and untrue dreams of those around it. That is, the only one it had ever affected had been my manservant. There was no way Mr. Gruff and Grunge wanted to be a Demalian cobbler, even if that was possible. So I had conceded that it spat random gibberish and had hung it slightly behind the bookshelf, coincidentally, and clipped a few strings when I was mildly frustrated. When I did so, it sounded mildly like childish wails of hopelessness and it made me guffaw a little, the silly knick-knack it was.

I shrieked, "Decoration... now get on with it, you dastardly, trespassing bastard. Let me put it this way: I do not like you and my hand is on the lever." He tried to contemplate what he thought was an expression of some sort. Possibly something to do with, "I do not have the patience for you." Little did he know I meant I had my hand on the lever. To prey on proverbs to instill a false sense of security was poignantly pleasing. But then his face went into a subtle goofy: it was an "I know something you don't" look. I loathed him for it. Pondering it, I stood up and walked over to take a sip of my glass. The illusion just stared for a couple seconds and then lifted the glass to chug it down. I needed the alcoholic bits in it.

I felt nausea and then I snickered loudly as my tongue burned as it went down. The spirits of Rae had a kick, but not that much; he had tried something funny. I felt it melt away as a less-than-normal immune system purified the poison as I swished the stuff around in my mouth. Then I strolled over as he watched eagerly as my form seemingly continued to gulp it down. Then, leaning over the table and close to him without his notice, I spat it in his face and began to cackle raucously. When I had turned I had seen a distinctly white and stripe zigzag aura that could only mean my fourth eye was musing and that what it really should have been was an ominous scarlet or black. But I turned again in real and looked at my own hand as I stretched it behind my head. It was as I had predicted his would be quite; what caught me off guard was the deep off-white glow beneath it. Whereas others might have been confused, I knew enough of the business to catch on immediately to the situation. I backed up and collapsed into my chair as an unpreventable expression of horror crossed the apparition’s face, mine, and on my visitor came a dodgy simper. But then I fixed mine and his vanished to apathy.

"I am as apt to know your motives as arrest you. So make a choice, mud blood, double-aura, abomination of the soul." The tone by which it was said was grim.

"So you can see then," he said, smiling. "Alright then, what I want is-" I cut him off and fumbled about in my robes for a dagger and, not finding one, grabbed a butter knife on the table and pressed his arm, slitting it deeply lengthwise, and catching his blood in my hand. The ethereal shadow of me did nothing of the sort and, as a seemingly spontaneous cut appeared on him as he cried out in agony, looked on in mock and extravagantly exaggerated surprise and terror.

"What in all hell! You have brought evil spirits with you, Rae! Get out of my house! Get out of my house!" And as he began to formulate some retaliation, I let his blood drip into the bowl and then the pebble clink. In what was an instant, his real identity boiled up to the surface and the ripples signified deeds unmentionable. No spectator could have recognized why our eyes locked then. Why we viewed ourselves with two conflicting ideas of how the dance would play out. It was insult for insult. And then I muttered, "Warrant me whyfor I should not kill you, oh great-great-great grandfather of mine, immoral, life-taking scum."

"You simply cannot. My morals are in counterbalance." I shivered as he said it. The finality rang true.

"Then take what you need and leave." His sliding agility was almost unnoticeable and I hardly felt it as the kukri sliced open the skin of my arm to match his and the life essence hemorrhaged into the vial he held.

He muttered, "Of my kin..." and then, "Sin is my means, freedom my purpose." He turned the vial over and smiled insanely, "The scales of life and death are out of balance. In life we must soar and in death we are imprisoned. Only those avian souls-" he glared at this, "can fly in life. For equality, they must be tipped to match the beginning."

I chuckled more than a little hopelessly, "What you will do will only cement your fate. You will never be spared. Your debt is irreparable."

The way he intoned it, knowledgeable and indifferent before he faded like autumn leaves on the wind, made my body contract and my soul shrink in its terrible maw as his burden crashed down upon my head like it was my own. "I know."

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