I Get the Sense that It Isn't Normal to have Deja Vu for -Everything-

[Raptress]

:::> 'Bout time I got this done. Feel free to use this as a "so I heard this rumor.." type thing in-game. I have posted this both here and on my website. The website version has pictures, but I'm posting it here as well in case black screen/blue text annoys anyone. Website version is here:http://draggystyle.com/literature/siivyra1.html <:::


[::Consciousness. What's going on? See only black, but hear things. Birds chirping, insects buzzing, distant gruok squeals. Smell.. water, foliage. And a dragon.::]

Siivyra Rythmortys opened her eyes. She realized that she was spawled out on the ground and stood up with slight difficulty. Everything felt stiff, and her head hurt something fierce, pounding as if it were fortress walls under heavy siege. She looked around dazedly, and concluded that she was in a jungle or forest of some sort. There looked to be a beach and a volcanic area bordering it.

[::Where -am- I? How did I get here? ...Why don't I remember anything before this?::]

"Hey!"

Instantly, Siivyra's body tensed; her scales bristled, her back arched, her claws spread, her teeth bared.

[::Creature. Behind. About five meters. Slightly smaller than self, but more powerful. Do not engage unless prepared for a loss.::]

The hatchling snapped out of the state just as quickly as she entered it, startled by the sudden flood of information. It had almost been as if something -else- had taken control of her senses; something with a lot of combat experience. Somehow, it felt unfamiliar and totally normal at the same time.

"Whoa, calm down," came the voice again.

Siivyra finally turned. The speaker was a hatchling dragon, indeed a bit smaller than herself. This was probably the same one she had smelled earlier. Another sense, this one truly alien, told her that his name was Spitfyre.

After her initial overly guarded demand of "What do you want?", the two started up a conversation. Spitfyre told her that she was one of the Gifted, a uniquely priveledged individual with the incredible Gift that allowed her to cheat death itself. He told her of the Ritual of Life Everlasting, of the Rites, and of the Withered Aegis. She asked of memory loss and received a less-than-comforting reply.

"Well.. you did have to die to get here. Memory loss can happen if it's a particularly traumatic death, but.. I don't think I've ever heard of complete amnesia before."

Afterwards, Spitfyre referred her on to Instructor Karkath and Artisan Jemenoth, trainers in the ways of combat and crafting. Siivyra took to the fighting well enough, but something about getting blood and fur all over her paws and under her claws just didn't feel right. She picked up the crafting incredibly well, even evoking a rare commendation by Jemenoth. She even asked for more training after he told her to return to Karkath. Jemenoth was chuckling at her enthusiasm when he told her that she would have to speak to another trainer for that.

Soon, Siivyra was moving on to the island of New Trismus, the grand gathering place of all the newly-discovered Gifted. The trainers here were a veritable wealth of information, teaching her of spellcraft, techniques, more advanced fighting tactics suitable for attacking undead, and more.

Each new piece of information felt more like rereading a favorite, but long unread book than learning anything new. Her new trainers could not completely hide their surprise at just how adept she was with everything even after just learning it. It was also here that she discovered offensive spells.

This was what she had been missing earlier. Why get bits of gore under your nails when you can shape the very elements into a destructive bolt to hurl at your enemies and prey? Why worry about having to rush to outdamage your foe when you can weave spells of recovery and outlast?

From the first Prime Bolt, Siivyra knew that this was what she was meant to be doing. There was something about the feeling of raw, undiluted power rippling through one's being that she found alluring, if not irresistable. Molding the primal energies by her own will and with her own claws, yes, surely this was part of who she was before.. before....

Before what?

How was it that she could remember her name, how to speak the common tongue, and enough of her apparent former skills to relearn them quickly, but no events whatsoever? How old was she? Who were her friends? For that matter, who were her parents? Did she -have- parents? Did she have a home, somewhere far from here, where her family was waiting for her? ..Or grieving for her?

As soon as that thought came to mind, some part of her, probably the same part that had all that uncanny combat knowledge, told her that she didn't. And for some reason, she felt sad, even though she couldn't remember what having a family was like, let alone if she had ever been part of one. The one clue she got was that this sorrow felt very much like pain of loss.

Then Siivyra rebelled against that feeling. If she can't remember it, why should she let it hurt her, of all things? Who needs family? Who needs friends? She could make her own way in this world if she had to, and no infuriatingly elusive memories were going to stop her.

[Raptress]

(Ack, this stuff is so overdue. XD)

Siivyra Rythmortys was by now a hatchling of twenty or so seasons' skill in battle, many more in craft, going it solo in unfamiliar lands.
Progress had been made in a way. No longer was she instantly suspicious of everyone she met, as if they were a rogue waiting for her to turn her back so they could sink a blade into it. No, she was still withdrawn and given to lurking at the outskirts of crowds or skulking about in the shadows, but she was definitely more social than she had been.

Already, it felt like eons ago that she had woken up on that island. The more scales she molded, the more spells she wove, the more everything felt familiar. If she was distracted, she might even say that she was feeling at home. But always, always at the very edge of her consciousness, she knew this was not so. The landscapes were made of the same pieces, but the features were not the same. She didn't know where she came from, but it wasn't where she was now.

Such musings were far from her mind at the moment though. She was headed to the Isle of the Drowned, an Aegis-infested island off the west coast of Lesser Aradoth. This Isle was her hunting grounds. The Aegis held no terror for her, not really, and they were much more fun to hunt than anything else.

But today would be special. Today she would find a real clue to her past.

She found a dragon scale buried in the hills on the Isle. It was an iron-slate armor head scale, but it didn't appear to be blighted at all. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be quite the extraordinary scale. It looked almost as if it were ornamental as it had intricate engravings of wispy dragon forms. The dragons looked like they were suppose to appear incorporeal, like shadows or ghosts. There were words along the bottom, in a strange script but similar enough to what Siivyra knew to be read. The words were "Xaras Siiv Larohk;" words that she was sure she'd heard before, but had no idea when, where, or what they meant.

Later Siivyra would find herself in Kirasanct, idly rolling a dim blight core back and forth as her eyes swept over the scale, trying to stare its secrets out of it. She would ask every Fiend in the city if they knew anything about it. One of them recognized the words and gave her a book.

The book had but a few pages of any use. It appeared to be a general reference of some sort, information on everything, but little for specifics. One article loosely described a clan of secretive dragons on Trandalar. There was a poem, or perhaps a song, under that short paragraph. It looked to be in the same language as the words on the scale:

"Dus'kael larohk ne Dus'kael siiv
lao s'eit ah ne kiin uk sorae
fas kes es xar fas'tae
ehr jaer lohs saet m'ro.
Kael hurr xii'ul e drek
Jaer'os e'dar kes xii rek.
Sarash es xas,
xenov hurrek es xar liik.
Il'sarash es xasa,
saet uk vrek saet oro il'ash."

She didn't know what it meant, but every word felt familiar, as if she'd known them and spoken them but had forgotten what they meant.

She yelped upon closing the book, then looked around. It sounded like someone was whispering to her, but she couldn't see anyone anywhere. As the whispering grew louder, she realized the words were in that language. As the minutes went by more and more voices piped up, all hushed and hissed. There were at least a dozen.

They would be with her until she completed her Rite.

[Raptress]

The Peak of Storms: a mountain of ethereal beauty, cloaked in blue mists. At the apex was a spot every hatchling strived to reach, an area where there was a ripple in time, neccessary for a phylactery to transfer the dragon's soul into their new adult form. An area that in a different time was home to the Sleeper.

Oh, the trials that one had to undertake to get to this point. All the riddles, battles, journeys, and strategic puzzles that one had to endure. The end of a hatchling's Rite of Passage was more than a simple transfer of spirit, it was the end of a growing experience. Killing beetles was nothing - absolutely nothing - in the face of journeying into heavily blighted areas and killing the ghosts of ancients. Yes, the Rite does much more than simply growing the hatchling in body.

And now.. now it was Siivyra's turn.

She had obtained the crystalline vessel first. Getting to the crater had been no feat; Siivyra had already been attuned to Grayling since she participated in the construction of the Artifact of Magic, and had already known the way to the crater as the resulting Aegis invasion had led almost up to that spot. She had been surprised by how easily the Guardians of Faces had noticed her, but no matter. She took them down two at a time all the same. The Crystalline Golem she had another's help with as she found Reisende already at the crater when she returned to summon it.

Her next step was the creation of her statue. The requisition of obsidian bricks was simple enough, but the required ghostly dragon eye would take her to Draak for the first time. The run from Harro was the most perilous part, running always just out of reach of Thornwood Treants and Indestructible Fyakki. On the first trip through the third, she encountered the feared Thistleface, her shadowy scales' likeness to the hard black blighted soil the only thing that saved her from being seen. On the second run, she had snuck right behind him, not ten yards away.

Siivyra's first steps off the light wooden bridge and onto Draak soil were ones of reluctance. "This place feels creepier than the Deadlands I just ran through and all I've seen so far are the -beaches,-" she'd said with a shiver. But she shook it off. There were things to do.

With the Entombed Dragon her involuntary witness, she wrenched a ghostly specter of a dragon away from the hordes of pale zombified hatchlings. The battle was spectacular. Having a foe with wits beyond those of insects and ogres brought out the dragon in her. Her spells flooded her with power and the mad grin left her face only so she could roar at her adversary. Quickly it was over, the undead dragon succumbing with a death screech to the very magics it had wielded in its past life and its undeath.

Siivyra was already quite proficient in tradeskills, so the creation of the mirror was easy for her. The run to the Pool of Teeth had been easy as well, adept at dodging enemies as she was. The Pool itself was quite interesting, and Siivyra made a note to try to collect some of its water later. The gathering of granite bricks was a trifle as well, and soon she was running from the Dralk shrine to the Chiconis, completing her flawless statue of cooled lava. She was beginning to wonder how much running she'd have to do throughout this quest.

The next step was the golden clasp, specifically the three gems: a ruby, sapphire, and emerald, each inscribed with the aspects of her mind. The first was the sapphire. She had to bring the Hermit four items as answers to riddles. She figured each riddle out almost as soon as she'd heard them. She needed a redbacked spider eye, a desert wolf fang, a shrunken frost pygmy head, and wraith master ectoplasm. The spider eye she obtained while tasked to kill that breed anyway by a dragon skill trainer, and the pygmy head was simple as she was much more powerful than those creatures anyway. She obtained the ectoplasm while out hunting gold golems with Boahnao and Zhyree. A blight anchor had rooted itself nearby, and her group with the addition of a few other adventurers, cleared it and its ilk out of the field. The wolf fang had taught her the tactical retreat. Her initial pull might get the attention of seven wolves, but run away until they dropped out of the chase and it became easy to get only one wolf to chase you, too enraged to realize that it was alone.. and vulnerable.

The ruby required a test of strength or, as Siivyra thought, of resourcefulness. The task was to kill a werewolf known as Storm's Shadow. Siivyra found that it was many seasons above herself, so she enlisted help, specifically that of Starlight. Siivyra had no prejudice towards the bipeds like many of her kind, so the later arrival of Hoberton was a boon rather than a disgrace. With the help of the powerful bipeds, the mighty werewolf was slain handily.

The final and easiest gem was the emerald. She spoke to a man called Theed, who offered her a question of morals. He had a ring that belonged to Lady Kendra of Kion and asked her to buy it from him, hoard it, or return it to its rightful owner. Siivyra chose to return it. She didn't really feel the other two were options. Who wouldn't return someone's property?

The rest of the clasp's creation would take her back to Draak to speak to the three dragons who guarded the island. One of them asked her to defeat the Enslavers.

Siivyra would use her dark coloration to slink around the shadows of Draak, never seen by any blighted creature until she wanted to be: when she found an Enslaver. She would lure each one to a spot away from anything it could call to help it and slayed it without much trouble. The etched gems acquired, she was able to complete her golden clasp.

Clasp and crystal orb completed, Siivyra now had to imbue the phylactery with her spirit. After traveling around collecting water, lava, earth, and wind, she was tasked to kill Kaa the Shade.

This Shade could only be found deep within the Western Deadlands, and while Siivyra could reach the Tower of Nature there, she didn't think she'd be able to get to Kaa within the deadly spiral. Another test of resourcefulness. She noticed Silithus was awake and asked for his help.

They met at the Tower before setting off into the blight towards the spiral. Siivyra hid herself by a ridge as Silithus lured the Shade out to her position. Kaa was soon defeated, and the rest of the Aegis that had followed him were burned away by Silithus' inferno breath. Siivyra would receive an urn from the ancient afterwards, probably found on one of the undead. She keeps it in her vault.

Afterwards she needed to create a prismatic focus. She collected glass nodules on her old hunting grounds, the Isle of the Drowned, and took them to the gnome Gangaf Tagley in Dalimond. The beginnings of the prism in claw, she returned to Semeneth who sent her back to the Druid Tower. She had to climb this tower to get to the only scholar's desk in Istaria that could aid in the creation of the focus. After running up the stairs for what felt like an hour, she finally reached the desk and created her prismatic focus. She used it immediately.

There were now but two tasks left: the defeat of Lem the Cold and of Seliena the Brilliant.

Lem lurked within a ditch in the Eastern Deadlands. She knew from her runs to Draak what other monsters lurked in that area. She would need to be as quick and stealthy as she had ever been. She made it to the ditch unnoticed and settled near the wall, staying as still as she could to avoid attention that would get her killed. Finally Lem walked by, and Siivyra let loose the fury of her unfinished phylactery, sure that the Cold one would fall with one strike. But he didn't. It would take a second bolt and with it would go Siivyra's chance of getting out alive. The hatchling and the ghost fell at almost the same time, but the phylactery had gotten what it needed from Lem. A pale hatchling would guard the body of Siivyra until she recalled, for what reason was anyone's guess.

But instantly she was back at the Dralk shrine, running as fast as her recovering body could carry her to the portal then through Chiconis towards Semeneth's cave. There was now but one beast standing in her way: Seliena the Brilliant. Her task set, she was racing through portals to Dryart and then on towards the Western Deadlands again.

Siivyra slowed a bit as she approached Seliena's stretch of beach, looking around quickly as if the ancient ghost would sneak up on her. Then she saw the eerie glow of an Aegis ghost in the distance. The huge dragon specter was unaware of her visitor, and Siivyra dropped to her belly to sneak close enough for her phylactery to be in firing range.

The first bolt struck the mighty ghost, and it screeched as it whipped its head around, searching for the attacker. Seliena saw the source of the second bolt and charged at the small black hatchling, her huge jaws open as if she would eat the pest. Siivyra turned tail and ran, knowing she would never be able to defeat such a creature face-to-face. Instead, she was careful to maintain range while she kept firing off the phylactery, each bolt seeming only to further enrage the ancient ghost. Finally the last needed bolt struck and the ghost's legs buckled as it was defeated, the lifeless form sliding to a stop before Siivyra. The hatchling realized what she had just done, that she had taken down this great beast alone, and she was roaring at the great specter, its glassy eyes staring almost as if in disbelief.

Siivyra inspected her phylactery, now a proper Phylactery of Heavens, and knew that these were her last hours as a hatchling. Not that she had ever really felt like one to begin with, but look at her still here in the Deadlands when she could be running up to the Peak, learning how to fly.

Though perhaps not for the first time.

[Raptress]

"Etohk nerakis set!"

Siivyra awoke to a rather nasty string of curse words, said in a tone of absolute frustration. She lifted her head groggily and looked around her lair before seeing that the speaker wasn't there. Her head drooped again in obvious disappointment as she realized with a sigh what was going on. It was him again.

--
A few days after she had completed her Rite, her old friends the voices had returned, higher in number and more frantic in tone. Though the constant racket caused her no end of headaches, she still couldn't understand them, so she just did her best to tune them out. She had started to construct her lair in Tiaerakis to distract herself.

She only completed one chamber in it. In that four-way, she dug up another mysterious scale of similar craft to the one that she had found before. As soon as she touched it, the hissed voices speaking words she didn't know and yet recognized had reached a sudden crescendo, so loud that she was clutching her head and writhing on the floor in pain before she even knew what was going on. Then they just stopped, leaving behind a silence so heavy one would think it was tangible. A few seconds later, there was a single, very different voice in her head.

"Hello," it had said.
--

"-Xii'karios saet dastae! Guh...!!"

Hm. He seemed even more furious than when he'd woken up into a hatchling's body rather than an ancient's. Siivyra wondered if she could just keep her thoughts quiet and go back to sleep to avoid Malestryx's ranting.

"No, you can't. I already heard you," he growled, in a voice far too deep and dangerous to be conceivable from any normal hatchling dragon.

Shards.

"I'm so sick of this! I understand now why the hatchlings were so easy to kill." Stab. "They can't do anything! Even the adolescents could at least defeat some of the blights." Stab. "It's a wonder there were even as many adults as there were, before they all got cut down anyway. The ancients even managed to kill some of the kwellen, but the hatchlings? Not one standing after the first fifteen minutes, and that long only because there were so many." Stab, stab, stab. Is he doing that on purpose? "Yes! Yes, I am! It's your fault! Your fault I'm stuck like this! I should be an ancient dragon right now, not running close to death from bronze golems! Gah!!

Yes, it's all my fault. My fault that I accidently prevented you from having enough power to take over Dralk in a day. So very sorry to inconvenience you.

--
Siivyra had been quite startled to have a voice that she could actually understand in her head for once, but what really got to her was the fact that she felt like she'd known this voice all her life, intimately so. Like a family member or a close friend, if not closer. She wondered if she could actually communicate with this one.

"Sure you can," it had replied, as if reading her mind.

"So you can hear my thoughts then." "Yes, no need to make anyone think you're insane and talking to yourself," was the answer. "So, uhm, who are you? Are you - and the others, I guess - aspects of me and my shattered memories or something.. else?" "You're over-thinking this arrangement. I.. we are separate beings. You're not insane, no," it said, "And anyway, did you really think that an 'aspect of yourself' would have a male voice?" "I don't know. I didn't want to rule anything out."
--

"I heard that! Either way, it still proves you can't follow simple instructions!" he scoffed.

Siivyra sighed, alone and yet wishing for solitude, in the dark lair chamber. She had to admit that she preferred the darkness of this lair to the brightness of the last, not that she'd had a lot of choice when she moved. She couldn't have stayed out on Trandalar if she had tried. It would have been much too painful.

"By Torrin, how in the world did you survive to adulthood with such incompetence? Did you find someone to hold your paw the whole way?"

Now he had struck a nerve.

"No, I did not!" Siivyra spat, aloud even though she didn't need to actually voice it, "I did almost all of it on my own!"

"You must have a wide margin for 'almost' then," Malestryx returned.

"How do I turn you off?" she muttered, more to herself than anything, but he heard anyway.

"You can't. Not now that I've been summoned, no matter how badly you botched it."

Had Siivyra been any more incensed, she wouldn't have caught his mistake. "Oh, can't I? You were defeated somehow before, otherwise there would have been no need to build another construct for you. I just have to find out how it was done and then I'll be rid of you and the threat you pose," she hissed.

Malestryx snorted pretentiously. "You won't find out. I made sure of that as soon as I realized it was happening. I destroyed all your books, your records, hell, your whole library. You won't find it again." He said it all confidently, and as hard as Siivyra tried, she couldn't hear a waver of doubt.

--
This new voice had filled in many of the gaps for her. She learned who the dragons of Trandalar had been, that she was one of them. Xaras'kael, they were called. Those of the shadowed scales. Dragons of shadow and ice and fire. Xaras, Siiv, and Larohk. Everything was so familiar. She knew it was true as soon as she heard it, remembered as if she never forgot.

She would realize too late the reasons why the speaker glossed over what had actually happened to them. Instead, he had told her of himself, or at least, what he wanted her to believe. Told her that he had been her mate, and that there was a way to bring him back from whatever fate had befallen the Xaras'kael. She had been anything if not eager to do it.

Stupid. Foolish. Idiotic. Naive. "Sometimes hope can blind us to the truth," Boahnao had said. But she should have seen it, all the same. The reagents themselves should have tipped her off. The obsidian base, held together with primal and tainted essence, with rubies for the strange swirling red patterns were mundane enough, but then there was the ethereal bauble and, most of all, the radiant blight core.

Siivyra hadn't been able to get a radiant blight core. She had used a glowing one instead.
--

The dragoness' brows furrowed. "No, I'll find it, I promise you that. I'm not going to let you cause any more destruction than you already have," she growled, too emotional now to be sleepy. She stood and stalked over to one of the pools in the Helian style chamber, glaring at her own reflection in self-loathing before swatting at it angrily just to dissipate it. Only then did she drink.

A second later, she was wincing at a roar of rage from Malestryx, not because she cared but that it was loud enough to cause pain. He must have waited too long to start running.

"Rot to dust, bronze golem!"

Siivyra wondered with sad sarcasm how long it would be until she started using the Withered Aegis-flavored curses herself.

"Aagh! I can't believe this! I should be conquering, I should be feared; I shouldn't be a hatchling!"

"Aw, poor Malestryx. Can't do any work to get his own power and wants everything handed to him on a silver platter," Siivyra sneered, slinking low like a stalking cat towards the mouth of her lair. She got her shots in whenever she could.

"Get buried, dragon!" he roared, "Have you ever been to the realm of Blight? Do you know how hard I worked to get my power there? I had legions, I had an army.. most of all, I had independence. I was no one's pawn. I had no limitations..," he said, quickly and angrily, but then his tone lost its fire as he continued, "Now.. now I have nothing. I can't even defend myself." He 'hmph'ed as he regained his composure. "Either way, I'm getting stronger weak as I am now. So enjoy yourself while you can, ki mortys."

Siivyra winced at the phrase.

[Raptress]

(Aaaand we're current as of post time. Possibly disturbing, this bit. I find it pretty tame myself, but I realize I've a pretty high threshold, so.. fair warning.)

When had Malestryx let it get this bad? What he'd just done was completely justified. The dragon had told another about him, dropped his names even, then tried to control him with some charm potion. His cover would not last long if it wasn't already blown. He was far too weak to defeat an ancient dragon as yet, and there were at least two who might come after him. She had ruined his plans. It was justified.. wasn't it? She was just a pawn after all.. wasn't she?

So why did it make him feel sick to look at the black soul gem in his talons? Why had the betrayed look on her face wounded him? Why did the sight of the dragon's lifeless body make him feel as hollow as that shell of a dragon was?

"I don't love you!" he roared at the corpse. Her eyes were still open, perfect spheres of icy blue, rolled up into her head. "I don't, I don't, I don't!" Those wide empty eyes disgusted him and he dug his claws deeply into the floor of the lair as he hissed fiercely at them, even as his own eyes began to cloud. "-And I'm not crying!" he shouted, unconvincingly as his voice cracked while he said it, "Not, not, not crying...!"

The demon-hatchling put down the gem and began pacing back and forth in front of the body, his tail whipping through the air, his red eyes glaring even as they leaked. "Malestryx doesn't love," he growled as if she could hear him, "Doesn't love, so he can't love you! I don't want you, don't need you, better off without you! You do nothing but try to stop me! Nothing but a problem! Nothing without you! - Wait, no - damnit!"

Malestryx sat down heavily, his forepaws immediately on his head, squeezing as if that would stop the tears and the hurt and the guilt and the loss. He realized that he was no longer holding the gem and looked around frantically for it.

There was a soft 'plunk' off to his right, and he turned to look before getting up and walking over to the small pool in the corner of the lair chamber. The gem was there, glittering even in its blackness under the water; it must have rolled into it after being set down. Malestryx reached out and picked it up carefully to stare into its inky depths.

He was lying.

His head drooped sadly as he took the bauble in his teeth and started walking over to the unmoving adult dragon form in the center of the chamber, his wings and tail dragging along the floor. He slipped under one of Siivyra's slightly tucked wings. The body was cold, the spirit of flame no longer within it, and it held no comfort for him, just guilt. He took the gem in his paws again and curled himself around it. And, for the first time in his long existence, the demon cried.

What had he done?

[Hraefn]

-interjects just long enough to say:

I'm in love with the theme of this and the overall feeling D:

Now I'm even more impatient to get back IG and get the rp rolling with the rest of the Azura Clan and company.

-pouts and waits for more-

[RuneDragoon]

love it.

[Raptress]

*squeals with delight* Comments! Eeeee! ^^
If anyone wishes to participate in the storyline (as that's what RP is about, ne?) they are welcome to. Obviously I'm not on Siivyra for a while, but the demon is online quite a lot (though under a different name, that will be 'revealed' in the next bit). I lurk in Dragon chat, and the demon hopefully shouldn't be too hard to pick out, being one of the few non-dragons.

[Hraefn]

Aww, I'd jump into it if I could, but dragon channel and I don't get along. (The ooc drama that can happen there drives me bonkers :B).

On the other hand, if your looking for another rp place to lurk around in, Clan Azuranous chat is always open. ;D -hinthintnudgenudge- ....-shameless-

[Raptress]

((Heh, well it's your fault if you suddenly have a demon in your chatroom then, Hraefn. XP
And ack. Darn the lack of a perpetual edit function on these boards. I forgot to title the last bit. x.x Should be Denial Breeds Hard Lessons. Yes, I did just make that up on the spot, why do you ask?
...Anyway...))

He hadn't been back to the lair since he'd done it.

No, he'd found somewhere else to stay. Quiet, out of the way.. lonely. From the port pad in South Tazoon, he would climb the stairs into the wall of the great city. At the top was a room, not terribly large, but.. comfortable and enclosed. Dark. There were three breaks in the wall here with not so much as barriers to stop someone from falling. One could see across the desert through them.

One could see the crater.

Malestryx - or was he Sathriel now? - he wasn't sure. He'd never used two names before because he'd never needed secrecy before. Two bodies, sure; two names, never. Sathriel Frostreign was a name he'd made up for his Fiend body. That's what he was using right now. He concluded that thinking of himself as Sathriel when he was like this would be a defense against accidentally calling himself Malestryx when he waxed third-person.

So Sathriel, then, looked out over the sands to that dark stain from the great Battle of Tazoon. It felt like so long ago that he'd been there... but it wasn't, was it? Ten, maybe fifteen years ago? Was that all? Had he fallen so far in so short a time?

Well hello there, Memory Lane. I'll go for a stroll, yes?

What had he been using back then? For some reason he kept imagining that he'd been in his construct, but that came after. He'd been a Sslik. Yes, that was it. A reaver Sslik. He remembered now....


--
The sand was warm under his talons, the desert wind ruffling the crest of black feathers atop his crocodilian head. The sun soaked into his black platemail armor, making it hot as it was heavy. At his side was his sword, a massive thing of jagged-edged metal that looked old and well-used, but then reavers didn't need the sword to do all the work, did they? It was this blade that Malestryx raised to point at the rows - haphazard rows, but rows still - of zombies, skeletons, and worse that were awaiting the order to attack.

"Let it never be said that these Live Ones have any lack of will," he began, his voice booming as if magic were amplifying it, "but pure will cannot erase the fact that they are still mere mortals and when they fall, our owns forces rise. We already vastly outnumber them. This is their final stand." The dark purple Sslik motioned towards the desert city, Tazoon, in the distance, his raptor-claws raised and a sinister glint in his red eyes. "Beyond these sand dunes lies their grandest city. A victory here means that we will certainly conquer this realm, and I think it is safe to say that our victory here.. is all but assured!" Malestryx pointed his sword to the sky with that last line and roared, much more fiercely than any normal Sslik would have been able to. His army roared with him.

Yes, these Live Ones stood no chance. Not against him, and certainly not against the Aegis. The undead hordes would sweep down upon them like a wave of destruction and leave none in their path. They would have won by sheer numbers alone even without those such as him.

He swung his blade as if it were an extension of himself, the edges glowing a feint blue and becoming nearly transparent closest to the edge. He could take out five if they were stupid enough to stand together in the wide arch of his swing. Those that didn't fall to his sword as easily, Live reavers perhaps, he would cast spells of weakening and drain upon, crippling them and leaving his vampiric spells to finish them off as he pushed forward into the tide of battle. Malestryx was paying more attention to the front lines of the other commanders' armies to make sure his own was ahead than he was to anything the living creatures might be trying to do. The Aegis was united perhaps, but that didn't mean rivalries didn't exist.

Malestryx saw first hand that he was correct in these Living Races having no shortage of will to fight. The battle was incredibly fierce on both sides. The demon mused that the Live Ones were fighting desperately, like cornered prey. The battle was rapidly proving to be in the Aegis' favor though, and soon the defenders were being backed towards the walls of their city.

Malestryx was on the very edge of the front lines and so was one of the first who saw a single live human break rank and run, blade slashing, through the undead armies. He was carrying something, and a sense of dread, perhaps even fear, swept over the demon. Whatever that thing was, he could feel the immense energy coming off it. Then he realized the human was running for the blight maelstrom that contained the very highest of commanders and Torrin Macalir himself.

While the undead and blight creatures of lesser discipline parted like stalks of grain for the lone human, Malestryx took off after him, long Sslik legs carrying him as fast as he could force them to. He had to stop the human. That object felt like it contained enough power to wipe out most of their forces here, but those could be rebuilt. Torrin Macalir could not, and he was the driving force behind the Aegis. He was the only one who'd been able to unite them. Malestryx knew if Torrin went down, the Aegis would probably fall apart and once again be ruled by multiple lords, none of which were capable of cooperating with each other on their own. If that human got to Macalir.. they may very well lose their chance of victory forever.
--

Sathriel was sitting cross-legged right in front of one of the splits that served as windows in the wall of his Tazoon hangout. If someone were to come up behind him and shove, he'd probably fall, he was that close to the edge. In his lap, half-buried in the folds of a magical pouch, was that sinister black sphere.

The pouch was of primal construction, maybe something akin to that dimensional pocket thing he'd heard dragons speak about. The saphire dragon had made it for him; he'd probably never tell her how much he appreciated it. It was padded and just large enough to hold his precious bauble snugly so even if the gem was breakable, which was doubtful, it would be protected. There were even straps on the thing so he could carry it around more easily.

The orb itself was of his own craft, a terrible thing made with dark magic to serve a dark purpose. It was a perfect sphere maybe ten inches or so in diameter, but light for its size. At first look, one might describe it as pearlescent black, but on closer inspection it was more like the opposite of an essence orb, absorbing light instead of radiating it. There was a slight halo of shadow around it where the light distorted and blurred. If one watched the strange surface that seemed to shift like mercury between black and deep silver long enough, one might swear that something had moved within it.

Sathriel's ungloved hands were clutching it tightly, as if he were truly afraid that he'd die if he let it go. His knuckles were white.

--
His memory got a bit fuzzy after that. He remembered he hadn't been fast enough, his claws within inches of grabbing the human before he had set off the device. Then there had been light, nothing but light. He hadn't heard the explosion as much as felt it. The extreme percussion of it had probably blown out the ears before the brain even registered the sound. There had been pain. Oh, yes, there had definitely been pain. Malestryx suspected that his actual body had been disintegrated within half a second of the blast, but whatever energy this thing had contained had actually hurt him, going past the superficial Sslik body to tear at the incorporeal demon within. He didn't like remembering the pain.

The aftermath was even harder to remember, harder still to put into words. It had been like.. drifting. Maybe like restless sleep; the kind where you wake up every hour or so and feel horrible in the morning. And it ached, something like a headache perhaps, from what Malestryx had heard of them. Brief glimpses of places and things, like waking up to them and quickly fading back into unconsciousness. Time was non-existent for him in that state, felt like forever and a second all at once.

Then at some point something called to him, not with words, more an unspoken urging, maybe even a pull. It had felt inviting, promising, beckoning. So he allowed himself to be pulled.. to be summoned. The feeling could most accurately be described if one imagined first that one was some form of jellyfish and then imagined one's jellyfish-self being pulled through a tube.

And suddenly he had focus again. He could see, hear, smell, taste, touch. But he realized in a moment that something was off. He wasn't in control. He was sharing, like a passenger in a vehicle driven by someone else. Then he heard a voice.

"..Hm. Nothing's happening. Maybe Zeiros was right and all these books are worthless...."

He understood the statement, but when he heard the words, they didn't make any sense. "What books?" he asked just before realizing that it was his 'vessel' that had spoken. He had understood because thoughts had no language, and one must think words before voicing them. He himself had been trying to make the vessel's mouth make words, but since he wasn't in control what actually happened was the other consciousness heard him as though it were telepathy.

"Who said that?!" was the instant paranoid reply. Malestryx felt as the speaker began looking around, almost like he were doing it himself, and then he searched what he could feel of this body to see what he was dealing with. There was the familiar sensation of four limbs and a tail, but then there was another set of appendages, like another pair of hands, webbed and with long, long fingers.. wings. This was a dragon. He'd never been in a dragon before. From the voice, it also seemed to be a female dragon, so that was a second first for him. He wasn't overly comfortable with the second first. He also wasn't sure how to explain his unease. Perhaps gender transcended a physical form for things like him.

"I am Malestryx," he said in reply. "Where are you?" said the dragon, beginning to look around more thoroughly, "I can't see you." "I think I'm in your head." "...What?" "I said I think-" "Yeah, I heard you, but what do mean in my...," she started, then paused before continuing with a hint of terror at the prospect, "I didn't summon a mindlasher, did I?"

Impulsive honesty won out over the desire to scare. "Mindlasher? Hmph. Opportunistic body-snatching bastards, those. I am Malestryx, Malestryx is me, and no other classification is needed," he said taking mock offense, then switching suddenly to a tone of child-like curiosity. He'd have tilted his head to the side if he'd had one to tilt at the moment. "Who're you?"

He felt the dragon's eyeridges furrow, and she took a few moments to respond. "My name is Siivyra."

And that was how the whole mess had started.
--

Regret was a new feeling for the demon. Never, ever had he ever regretted anything he'd done, and he'd done some truly horrible things. Genocide, for one. And here he sat, lamenting his betrayal of a single dragon. Just the thought that it was possibly irreversible made him feel sick inside. Regret and sorrow were feelings he didn't know how to deal with, and he was basically baiting those feelings out of hiding by sitting and thinking like this. Staring into the depths of the shadowed sphere probably wasn't helping either.

The sun was setting now. Sathriel had seen the desert sunset the past few days now from this vantage point. He didn't really think he'd ever get tired of it....

Interesting. He'd wanted to destroy this realm before, overrun it with the blight that would forever erase any trace of what bright world had been there before. Now he was admiring a desert sunset and wishing one of the Live Ones was there to watch it with him.

That's irony for you.

[Hraefn]

Yay, update! 8D

A demon? x3 Compared to our usual antics, I'm sure we can manage him there!

[Frith-Rae]

so THAT's where you've been hanging out...hrmm....

[Raptress]

((HAH. Take that, writer's block!
"Raptress hits Writer's Block with Update for 1 bajillion damage.
Writer's Block has been slain.
Raptress receives loot: WIN."
Score.))

Thunder. Lightning. Rain. Dark, cracked soil. Giant, writhing thorns. Grey stone buildings with glowing green runes. Green fog blanketing the landscape. A swirling vortex that seemed to suck the sky into another realm.

The Eastern Deadlands.

Paradise.

Oh, how Malestryx had missed this....

Deep, deep into these deadlands is a fortress. It stands as the backdrop to General Reklar Plaguebearer, but for some reason, none of the undead care to actually inhabit the building. So there it lies, large, perfectly usable, and comfortable. It even had decorative skeletons hanging on the hooks outside. Why let it go unused? He'd had to bribe a couple of the Aegis with enough brain functions to realize that he wasn't supposed to be there to keep quiet about him staying there, but it was worth it. At some point, he'd see about getting a plot in that town nearby. Harro or something.

At the moment, he was lying out on the central bridge of the structure, his fairly newly adult dragon body stretched its full length against the stone, raindrops forming rivulets between his glossy black obsidian scales. The demon had his eyes closed in repose, his jaw resting atop his soul gem, comfort item as it had become. His wings were fanned out to catch more of the rain that so soothed him. The ruby red markings that were scrawled over his body like thorns through the blight were glowing dully, as if some sort of power hummed just below them. The crimson seemed to shift like a current running within the patterns. Perhaps he somehow channeled the energy here to recharge himself, or perhaps the markings glowed for the same reason his eyes sometimes did: the demon surfacing, revealing himself instead of being hidden behind the body he was using. Perhaps both.

Oh, how good it was to have wings again! Malestryx didn't think the Hrajiel dragon knew how much he appreciated the help he'd given him in the Dragons' Rite, though he wasn't about to go play the groveling worm to let him know that. He was no longer overtly welcomed in Aegis lands; he still had his contacts, but for the most part he was outcast and blacklisted for his defection, so being able to fly was even more liberating for that, since the Aegis could no longer keep him out of the deadlands. Deadlands that he'd helped secure, if he wanted to be bitter about it. He'd be bitter about it later. Thunder too relaxing right now. Let's try contemplative instead.

Flax is strange. Long, spindly stalks supporting delicate, pale blue flowers, leaves with dust or wax or something on them, and fibers that could be used to weave clothing and tapestries and things; all weird. When severed with a harvesting blade, the sap didn't even seem to be acidic. Where were its defenses? It just seemed to grow for the sake of growing.

Grass too. It was like a living carpet. Why would such a thing exist? Did it wake up some morning and say to itself, "Gee, it'd be great if I had every manner of creature stepping on and crushing me all the time." Did it even do anything? It never seemed to try to entangle the feet of those who walked on it. It wasn't even sharp, but soft to the touch.

And trees. At the very least these had a thick outer shell to protect them. They were large too and, barring a large dragon or industrious use of an axe, fairly safe from being knocked over and killed. But they seemed completely placid otherwise, like every other plant there. No spines, no teeth, no vines to shoot out and grab one's ankle and drag one screaming back to their pits of digestive acid. Not that they even had digestive acid pits.

When he was in the guise of the Fiend, he could harvest fabric all day long if he wanted to and he didn't even have to worry about the plants trying to bite him in self-defense. The realm of the Prime could be so peaceful it was surreal.

So much color.. So much light. The realm of the Prime was as opposite to that of the Blight as life was to death.

And yet.. it wasn't so bad. Not anymore anyway. Sure, it had reviled him with how.. how.. well, wrong it all was when he'd first seen it, but after being immersed in it for so long, Malestryx had found it rather grew on him. The inhabitants too, dire enemies as they had been not so long ago, he didn't really mind them so much anymore either. There were quite a few things now that he'd done that he would have laughed derisively at the mere suggestion of back when he'd been an Aegis leader. Engaged in non-hostile conversation, cracked a few jokes, done a couple favors, had a bit of honest fun.

Shown emotions that weren't anger or disdain or mockery.

..Asked for help.

Those last few still elicited a bit of shame and disgust with himself, so at least he wasn't totally gone.

Most of the time, he could ignore the feeling of being totally out of place in the Prime, but it was still always there. If he let himself focus on it for the briefest of moments, everything would feel alien for a long time. Sometimes there was despair. Sometimes anger and blame: at himself, at ki mortys, at the Aegis. It didn't matter. Things were what they were. Move on, the past is past, pick up the pieces, look to the future, any and all variations on that theme. But sometimes....

Sometimes it wasn't that easy. Sometimes like now apparently. Apparently this was later and it was time to be bitter now. The Aegis can get buried. Ungrateful, selfish, brain-rotted, maladroit, idiotic, foolish, stupid, stupid, STUPID. So very full of stupid! Ever since Tazoon, nothing but stupid! He shouldn't have been defeated in Trandalar! Shouldn't have been left alone to take the fall, only to discover there are deadlands on Trandalar now! Not without him, no, Trandalar was his attack, his assault, his infiltration! They had been winning, they had won, but as soon as she showed up with that, that, that.. thing, then they had all but abandoned him, left him to die! The liches had stopped sending their zombies, the skeletons stopped coming to reinforce him, the kwellens, the everything.. as soon as they saw it, they withdrew, ran like scared.. things! Ran and sealed their portals behind them! Sealed before Malestryx could follow!

Where the hell do the Live Ones get all these bloody devices anyway?! That was twice he'd been defeated by some kind of energy bomb thing. If he ever lead another assault, as doubtful a scenario as it was, he was sure some aegror-pus Live One would be right there, setting off another of the damned things.

Though never again would another of them hurt him like that one had. It was Siivyra who had detonated it. He kept telling himself back then too that he was just using her, the difference being that he still had power back then, still had the force of the Aegis behind him. It had been much easier to ignore any feelings he'd had for her when he'd had conquering to do. It'd been easy to betray her, to attack and wipe out her clan, seeking to claim the corpses and the area for the Aegis. But then she had to go and set off the bomb. Her clan was already lost, and still she did it, saying that she could not allow him to do this anywhere else. She killed herself to kill him. So heroic it made him retch.

Why? Why did she do that? Her clan had ostracized her as soon as they learned that she'd summoned a demon, labeled her 'Rythmortys' - demoncaller - and denied her family ties, effectively making her a homeless pauper that not a single one amongst them would help. Malestryx had been there for her! Trod unfamiliar emotional territory to comfort her, even when he didn't have to! He could have taken control of her body anytime he wanted to, using her skills to open a blight portal, but he didn't! Why did she care so much about those that abandoned her, and then betray the one who hadn't?!

He wouldn't have hurt her! He would never have admitted to himself the reasons why, not back then, but they would have decided a number of choices for him anyway. He wouldn't have hurt her. He wouldn't have let anyone else hurt her either. He would have kept her with him, she would have been at the side of a ruler! Never to be forsaken again, no! She'd have been safe on the winning side, she'd have been free to delve into the dark magics that so enticed her, free to take revenge on those who outcast her! And all the while she would have had him.. They could've ruled the whole world, they could've had so much fun.. but she blew it all away.

It was her fault! If she hadn't intervened on the behalf of those who didn't care about her, those who cast her out, those who looked down on her - If she hadn't interfered, the attack would have been a total success, his already impressive stance in the ranks of the Aegis would have been further bolstered, he'd probably be leading more campaigns even now. But no. Instead, now he was positively feeble compared to what he had been, the Aegis had abandoned him and he had turned against them, she had pushed him too far and gotten herself killed by him, and he was an emotional wreck a lot of the time. He was even convinced that the Aegis would be making progress presently if she hadn't screwed everything up, instead of just occupying the territories it already holds, sending out lone anchors every once in a while that did absolutely nothing.

But a flame only lasts so long before it goes out, and with a muttered 'feh,' Malestryx took the soul gem in his claws and rolled over onto his back, resettling the orb to his chest. He curled his neck to look at it at first, but he knew he'd get himself depressed if he did that for too long. He sighed and laid his head back down, looking upside-down at the tower behind him, watching the dancing green blaze atop it. The demon soon grew bored with it and closed his eyes to more closely inspect the feeling of the raindrops pattering against his belly scales.

He'd have fallen asleep if he hadn't suddenly sensed the approach of another. His eyes were already glowing when they snapped open, instantly locking onto the human mummy who had just crested the ramp to his bridge. It appeared to be a rather well-preserved mummy, standing relatively straight and including all its limbs. Its robes were those of a wizard, and it was using an ornate staff as a third leg. It regarded Malestryx with one eye, the other covered under bandages.

"M.. Malestryx? Is that really you?" it rasped, deep voice scratchy and crackled from the decay and lack of moisture in the mummy's throat. It looked like it wanted to approach, but was intelligent enough to know that glowing red eyes meant danger.

That was enough to make the owner of the name roll back rightside-up, clutching his soul gem protectively to his chest with one paw as the other clenched and unclenched at his side. He brought up his head, his neck coiling like a snake's before the strike, though his stare was more questioning now than suspicious. "Who wants to know?"

"By Torrin, it is you!" the mummy said, about as happily as it could manage, "It's Vae! Surely you remember me. I'm so glad to see you! Things have been.. so different since you left. It's so good to see you back!" Vae summoned up the courage to take a few steps towards the dragon, smiling at him with rotten teeth.

"...Oh. Yes, Malestryx remembers Vae... just.. didn't recognize Vae without his satyr-ness on," the demon replied, tilting his head and mentally updating his 'Vae' brain-file. Malestryx narrowed one eye as his brain caught up with what Vae had said. "Waaaait, 'left?' ... 'Back?'" he said, "Malestryx didn't leave, Malestryx was the one who was left!"

"Wh-what? But they said--"

"I don't care what 'they' said, whoever they is. If you were told anything other than that Malestryx was abandoned, left for dead, forsaken, then Vae was lied to!" he slammed his free paw against the stone to emphasize, "Why would I come 'back' after that? No, I'm here because I missed the blight, not the Aegis." Now he was irritated again, going over all the injustices in his head again, turning his anger on the only one around to hear it. "What does Vae want?" he snapped.

The mummy seemed taken aback. He stared with mouth agape for a good moment, before starting to speak, voice low and meek. "I just wanted to see you. Sorry for bothering you." Then he turned to leave.

Malestryx sighed seeing that. If he'd learned anything by now, he should have learned the value of friendship. "No, Vae-thing, come back. Malestryx didn't mean to do that. You weren't even involved with that debacle of stupid, so come back. Stay and talk with Malestryx."

The mummy's mood did a complete 180, either from being called back or from the knowledge that 'Vae-thing' was a term of endearment. He made his way over to the menacing form of the dragon, taking a seat before it totally undaunted by the huge fangs that lined its maw. To Vae, it wasn't a threatening black and red dragon, but an old friend. And anyway, the form one took had little meaning to mindlashers; what mattered was the driver of the vehicle.

The two got comfortable. They had a lot of catching up to do.

[Frith-Rae]

((HAH. Take that, writer's block!
"Raptress hits Writer's Block with Update for 1 bajillion damage.
Writer's Block has been slain.
Raptress receives loot: WIN."
Score.))

ooc:

OMG! How do I learn that attack...oy..seriously...*hits dust out of her head*

[Vaz]

[ So, I finally got around to reading this from start to finish.

MOAR PLEASE KTHXBAI. ]

[Litarath]

(This IS very good, I quite enjoy it!!! Definitely waiting for you to unleash that 'Update' attack again

[Raptress]

((Just a bunch of backstory. I'll post something, you know, interesting soon, promise!))

Vae was one of those relative few in the Aegis who thought for themselves, though it was a very common trait among mindlashers. He was part of the Aegis, sure, but he wasn't about to turn on a friend for them, especially not one as loyal as Malestryx. He and Vae went back a long way, even before the Withered Aegis was formed.

Vae had thought Malestryx was a fellow mindlasher for a long time. And why not? They both worked in similar ways. Neither had a natural physical form, and they could both take over bodies and claim them as their own. Later, he had thought Malestryx was just an exceptionally talented mindlasher. He could control bodies so well, it almost seemed he belonged in them. He didn't constantly jump from a weaker body to a stronger one like most mindlashers did. He would do it every now and again when a form was substantially more powerful than his current one, but he did something no other mindlasher to Vae's knowledge ever did: taking a body and making it stronger.

After the Aegis formed and Malestryx's military skill was discovered, he took up a position of command. Meaning he needed to speak. Mindlashers along with.. whatever Malestryx actually is generally communicated mind to mind. Trying to use words was tedious for mindlashers, always having to endlessly look up what to say and what things meant in the reference book that was their body's former owner's memories. Malestryx never needed to do that. His speech didn't stutter and skip, and only faltered when he encountered a word he didn't previously know. He seemed to rely upon his own knowledge, not that of his body. The only reason Vae could speak as easily as he could was that he'd been using his current body for years and knew what pages of the reference book he needed. Vae knew that Malestryx was not like him by that point.

The mindlasher had brought it up to the demon once, sometime before the Aegis' first attack on Feladan, during the quiet time between preparation and actual attack. Vae, using a female purple-skinned elf cleric at the time, had found the black-armored satyr chaos warrior that was Malestryx back then sitting on a hill overlooking the blight portal and the legions of undead ready for the order to march through it.

Malestryx must have sensed his approach somehow, as he greeted Vae as he approached behind him. "Vae really ought to get a new body. He looks funny with those.. things on his chest." Alright, so it wasn't exactly a 'greeting', but it passed for one between the two. Malestryx had spoken aloud, but Vae naturally slipped into the normal mental communication of his kind to reply, "You insisted that you have the male satyr. I offered you the stronger elf and you declined. So.. that is sort of your fault."

Malestryx, much less naturally as he'd become somewhat used to speaking, switched over to telepathy as well. "You didn't have to use the elf." "Yes, I did. Everything else was weaker than what I already had." "You could have stayed in what you already had, then." "Why would I have done that? That makes no sense. I don't understand why you turned down the elf anyway. It's substantially better than the satyr." "But it doesn't have those things on its chest."

Vae took a seat next to Malestryx, a precursor to beginning his, her - its more serious discussion. It glanced at him out of the corner of its eye. "..You're not a mindlasher, are you?" The mental question was accompanied by a look that might almost be sad. The satyr froze for a moment, before looking at the other, his brows furrowed in confusion. "What? Of course I am. What else would I be?"

The lasher gazed into Malestryx's eyes - eyes that were red now, but had been green before Malestryx had taken the body - perhaps trying to read them, perhaps aware that what it was getting into would likely be a hurtful topic for the other. Vae had frowned seeing the satyr cringe back from the look; that had told it that Malestryx was indeed bothered by this prospect. But it had to be said.

"I don't know, but you're not a mindlasher," Vae began, giving a pause before it continued, "You do things mindlashers just can't. There's too many differences, Malestryx. The least of which being how your body's eyes always turn red after you take it over. You can speak too easily, fight too easily, cast spells too easily-- you just do everything too easily. Mindlashers always have to get used to new bodies, even if they're the same type. Every mind is different for us. With you.. it's like you can carry everything over from your last form and apply it to the new one. Oh, and taking new forms, too. You don't do it like we do. Staying in our current form when one more powerful is available is just.. unthinkable for us. You actively chose a weaker form just because it was male. That is something I can't even comprehend the reasoning for. You get stuck talking with your mouth sometimes. A mindlasher never, ever prefers speech to telepathy. Ever, Malestryx. There's also your tendency to strengthen the bodies you use, as if they were still themselves gaining experience in what they did before. Do you have any idea what I'd give for the ability to control a body that way? ..Malestryx?"

The demon had taken to staring out over the fields of undead soon after Vae had started talking. He wasn't actually looking at anything down there, his gaze fixed and distant, as if he weren't mentally all there. This rather worried Vae. "..Male--?" "There have to be others. Others like Malestryx." He had spoken aloud. In a moment of emotional distress when any mindlasher wouldn't have even begun to make its mouth move, he had spoken aloud. And Malestryx realized it.

The Aegis lost that battle in Feladan.

And Malestryx never found anything else like him.

But that was, what, almost sixty years ago now? Almost ancient history, especially considering what Vae knew Malestryx had been going through over the last fifteen or so years. Vae was sure he must've gotten over it by now. It still wasn't about to bring the issue up, of course. There were other things it wanted much more to ask about now anyway. Things it intended to ask just as soon as it met Malestryx on the roof of the fortress for the second time.

Vae found him exactly where it expected to find him: lazing about on the bridge-like roof, enjoying the rain and being all too attached to that orb of his. That bauble was one of the many things Malestryx had told it about. It didn't think it'd ever understand the demon's attachment to that dragon. Malestryx just became more and more a mystery to Vae as time went on.

The lasher was not startled when the red eyes snapped open this time, and it wasn't offended by the studying look the demon gave it briefly before lifting his head to give Vae a more amicable regard. It knew these things were normal for Malestryx.

"Well, hello~ again, Vae-thing," Malestryx said, aloud, Vae noted, considering its recent reminiscence. The mindlasher, knowing this time to whom it spoke, engaged its telepathy. "Do speak mentally, Malestryx. You know I have to translate everything you say otherwise." "..Right," the demon replied, now in Vae's head, his dragon maw forming a somewhat abashed grin.

Vae began ruffling through a pack slung low on its hip, almost looking like it might slip off the emaciated form of the mummy with the slightest agitation. Looks however can be deceiving, as the bag stayed put even with Vae's rather major agitation of it. "Ah, here we are," it said, removing and holding up three vials filled with a dark blue liquid, a slight aura of blue light radiating from them, "Three portions of vexator essence." Vae held them out for the pseudo-dragon to take, watching as Malestryx carefully avoided taking hold of one of the bandages dangling from Vae's wrist as he accepted them.

"So.. you said this batch of saeras'sek was for.. a Live One? Really?" Vae inquired, leaning heavily on its staff as it watched the demon place the vials delicately into his scale pack. "Yes," Malestryx answered with a slight nod, "He has been most helpful and it is the least I can do to repay him." "But what use has a Live One for saeras'sek?" "The same as we do. He is.. a special case among the Live Ones."

Vae waited a few moments to see if Malestryx would realize what he'd just said, about repaying.. one of them. But he didn't, and Vae frowned, its suspicions all but confirmed. "I don't see how you do it, Malestryx," it started, "I don't see how you stand it out there, let alone befriend any of them." Malestryx shrugged as if it was nothing - as if it was nothing - before replying. "You will notice I come back to the blight." "Yes, you said you start feeling weak if you're away too long; that's not what I meant. How can you be friends with any of them? Why haven't they all tried to kill you yet?" Yes, Malestryx was more a mystery all the time.

He didn't look entirely pleased with Vae's questions either, his head lifted higher on his S-curve neck, the eyeridges ever so slightly furrowed. "Why can't I be friends with them? As for why none of them have tried to kill me.. well.. it's not like I go prancing about singing 'Ooh, look at me~! I'm a blight demon!'" "They're our enemies, Malestryx." Vae noted the snort and the flare of nostrils, scrutinizing Malestryx's body language to see just how far he'd fallen. It wasn't looking good. "No, they're the Aegis' enemies. You'd be surprised how tolerant they are of my presence." "Most of them don't know what you are." "Why should it matter if they already know me, know I'm not bothering anyone?"

The mummy took a few shambling steps towards the dragon, shaking its head at him with a slight smile. Malestryx thought it looked rather patronizing. "Malestryx, my friend.. it doesn't matter if they already knew you. If they find out that you're from the Realm of Blight, let alone that you were an Aegis commander.. they'll kill you. Or rather try, considering your remarkable ability to not die," Vae stated, the tone of the communication a bit condescending to the demon as well. "What you need to do is come back to the Aegis. You have friends here. A lot of us wish you would," the lasher continued, "The Lich King has already said that he would allow you to join his forces if you come back."

Malestryx's lip twitched as his eyes started to glow, and he had to really try to suppress the growl building in his throat. Remember, Malestryx, this is Vae. Vae has been your friend for a very long time. Resist the urge to incinerate. Resist.

"Nrrr, Malestryx is not coming back, Vae," he hissed, slipping unintentionally into physical speech. "But Males--" "No! Don't you even continue!" the demon interrupted cutting Vae off midthought in its own head, "What the Aegis did to me is unforgivable, do you hear me? I will never go back. You will drop this, Vae, if you expect to continue calling me friend. Do you understand?"

The mummy stared at the seething dragon in what could only be shock a moment before repositioning itself and setting its expression blank, easy to do for mindlashers. "..Yes. I understand, Malestryx," Vae said. It had said this aloud, perhaps for effect, but perhaps also for finality, as it turned its back on Malestryx then, its feet shuffling lamely after its cane as it departed the rooftop. Vae could feel the demon's burning eyes boring into its back the whole time.

Malestryx was much farther gone than it'd thought.

[Hraefn]

Yum!

-protects from Vhaz's juice-

[Litarath]

good as ever! I've got to say, this is one riveting tale

[Raptress]

Primary target aiming for right front paw. Dodge.. now! And swipe as target catches itself. Aiming now at.. secondary target from behind, aiming at tail! Move.. now! Rot, not paying attention to primar--

"Gahhrrr!"

Nice going, Stupid-stryx. Now it has your left wrist.

The snow-covered permafrost of the Island of Ice has seen many an adventurer as well as the masses of giant ice beetle carcasses that tend to follow said adventurers. Today, among these adventurers is one Male-"Stupid"-Stryx, his obsidian black and ruby red form in stark contrast to the icy blue of the tundra. The two giant ice beetles locked in mortal (at least for them) combat with him fit right in.

..Actually, that makes it kind of vulnerable to a Gold Rage about now, ne?

The giant ice beetle with its jaw firmly latched onto Malestryx's wrist had no idea that it was exposing the joint where its head connected the rest of its body to the demon-dragon's primary swiping claw. Malestryx knew it had no idea, and brought that left paw out to further expose that weak point. With a fierce roar he drew back his free set of claws, grinning maniacally as they burst into a golden blaze. He brought his hoard-imbued talons smashing into the beetle's equivalent of a neck, hitting it in just the right way to sever its head. The force of the blow sent the decapitated body tumbling across the ice, a sight that made the demon giggle.

Until he realized that the disembodied beetle head was still attached to his wrist. "Dust." Malestryx turned to face the second beetle anyway, standing on his hind legs to lash the insect with his tail. The smashing strike rolled the thing onto its back, and the demon slashed at it with silver claws, quickly followed by the multiple strikes of Ravage, though the left-handed strikes fell somewhat awkwardly. By then the beetle had managed to flip itself back over and harden its shell. Without the initial Gold Rage Malestryx would normally have tore into the bug with, this battle would be more drawn out than most. He spiked out his scales, cast the Primal Health spell on himself, and dug his rear claws into the hard ground to let the beetle better impale itself on his barbed scales. Soon, Malestryx sensed the insect waning and reared onto his back legs again, this time to bathe the creature in the inferno of his dragonfire. It was charred near instantly and fell to the ground, the burnt husk crackling and sizzling still.

"Hrr. I guess I will not be getting any usable bits from that one, har," commented the demon, looking down at the very much dead beetle before turning his attention to the head of the other very much dead beetle, "This one however.." He took hold of one of the pair of giant bug-teeth - mandibles, he remembered Vhazshyn helpfully supplying once - and pulled. He'd only meant to pry them open but ended up tearing one of them off, left holding it as the majority of the pate fell to the ground. He tossed the half-mandible over his shoulder, knowing it was useless as a technique resource now anyway, then retrieved the head and gouged out the eyes. "What is it about beetle eyes?" he muttered meanwhile, "Hardly impressive trophies.."

His looting complete, he wove the first tier Quickening Breeze spell and sat down to rest for a time. He told himself he was just a horrible spell caster to excuse his weak tier one spells, but the far more likely reason was that Siivyra had made those runes. He'd found a cache of them tucked in a corner of her lair back when he'd been a weak little hatchling.

After a moment, Malestryx laid his head down in the snow. His immediate thoughts free from reading what little of a brain the beetles had, his mind was already wandering. After all, at the most basic level he was a formless consciousness. He thinks all the time, much like living things always breathe. He'd find that out a bit later when Vhazshyn would try to teach him how to clear his mind. After a certain point, he would just fall asleep, or more accurately, briefly unconscious.

Quite a lot had happened recently. Malestryx had stayed in the deadlands with Vae probably for a few weeks after tracking down the lasher and apologizing for more or less yelling at it, using a different form of course since his rather recognizable dragon form was kill-on-sight for most Aegis now. Things were mostly mended between them, but there was a sort of distance there now that hadn't been there before. Malestryx didn't like it, but there wasn't much he could do about it.

After he got back, he learned that the saris by the name of Synth might be able to help him with his soul gem problem. He'd learned that from Vhazshyn, who certainly had made it clear that she did not like the saris. Malestryx had been rather expecting that he wouldn't either, and from outward appearances, he shouldn't. Synth carried an air of 'I hate everyone, mostly because they waste my time' for the most part, but then there were other times where she seemed to actually care. And she smiled this one time. Malestryx felt like he should hate her, but somehow found her strangely likable.

However 'strangely likable' the saris may be though.. she was also one of the first Live Ones he'd encountered so far that he was actually a bit scared of. She knew things that Malestryx didn't really like her knowing. Things about the blight and how to purify it. Synth could probably do some real damage to him if she wanted to. That was the big question really: would she want to? Malestryx couldn't really pretend he didn't suspect that Synth knew what he was already. He wasn't about to point it out just in case she didn't, but he couldn't imagine after she'd said his 'aura' was unlike a dragon, or after she'd pushed enough of his buttons to make his eyes glow, or after he'd said he couldn't touch the stuff that purifies blight.. after all that, he couldn't imagine that she didn't know. Hrajiel had told him that she usually didn't bide her time when dealing with the blight though, so either she really didn't know or...

In a way it didn't really matter. At no point did reviving Siivyra become optional, and this was the first solid chance he had. Malestryx just needed to wait until the Synth and the Boahnao - a sslik who Malestryx had needed to find for whatever ritual Synth was going to perform, something about coaxing Siivyra's spirit out of the orb - were both awake and then finally ki mortys would be--

Beetle, incoming from rear-left, aiming for left hind leg.