Ferocity [Solo]

[Sheika]

Timestamp: 44th of Winter, AV 510 Sheika's face was smeared in mud, droplets of sweat were forming at the top of his forehead as the perspiration fought its way through to the surface of the filth covering him. Sheika tried, fought vigorously, but the ghost was significantly stronger. Sheika had experienced this before, the ghosts that wanted a body, and then tried to pull him to his death. This ghost, however was formidable indeed. Being foolish as he was, Sheika fed the ghost, giving it that ethereal energy from mixing of cheese, blood, and egg, which empowered it, and now it was trying to control him for good. Sheika fought, but it was useless, the ghost had managed to walk the Myrian into the Jungle Wilds, all the way from Taloba, and already the night was beginning to infect the sky like a thick blanket. Panicking, Sheika tried desperately to push the spirit from his mind. Over the course of the day, the specter was losing strength, and eventually, when Leth's Gaze was at its highest, the ghost left, weakened too much to fulfill its task. It meant most likely to claim Sheika as his own body so that it may taste life once again. A typical ghost, except this one was strong, significantly so. Now, Sheika had to get home, and even though he could follow the direction of the moon, the strained tracks left by his possesses self, or even follow his gut to the correct place, he knew that he was lucky not to experience something lethal already. To get back in one piece would be an act of luck, skill, and tenacity. Without any of those legs, his life was as good as gone. Nodding to himself, Sheika moved towards a closely knit cluster of bushes, as if in anticipation of something that was coming. Sheika moved slowly through the entire night, freezing at the sounds of any and all creatures nearby, moving quickly only when it was to move past a clearing that would easily expose him to danger, and saying not a word except prayers to his mother and Myri. It was all in vain however, as unknown to him, he was being stalked by a predator more proficient than himself. A Dhani, a constrictor to be exact, had been following Sheika as if it had itself been a shadow. As if these reptilian humanoid was not capable of sounds or having color. And Once Sheika took a moment to think, to pay attention to his surroundings, the Dhani (a She), wrapped her lengthy muscular coils around Sheika's legs. The Myrian grunted as he hit the ground, clawing at his side to take that steel dagger and stab Furiously at the hunter, but it was no use, she was too powerful, and already saw his attempts for the weapon. Within moments, Sheika's body would be devoured by death. His bones ravaged by the swift and silent crushing coils that the Dhani had on her. Minutes later, he was devoured by the Dhani herself. Perhaps now Sheika would learn more than he ever really wanted about ghosts.

[Sheika]

Sheika gasped as his hands reached upwards, clawing viciously at his throat to peel away the coils of death, but said coils weren't there. Panicky and paranoid, the Myrian Witch Doctor hastily searched his body for even the faintest sign of shredded flesh or shattered bone, but he was, physically, unharmed. A sigh of relief was all the Myrian allowed himself as he recollected his thoughts, his survival instinct. He was a Myrian, and Myrians don't die quite so easily. Still, he knew part of what he experienced to be true, the ghost for instance. He woke up far from home, in the middle of Falyndar Jungle land, and even though it was dark and little more than insects rattling in the night were there, he knew about where he was. Why? Because he walked here dammit. The ghost drug him in a straight path from Taloba for several miles, three at least, five at most, yet he was alive. The Dhani was one of two things. Figment of his imagination, or a forewarning of what was in store for him if he wasn't as silent as a stone, soft as a snake, and quick as death herself. Stealth was the key tonight. Sheika moved, but in silence as he told himself he would. Already in his hand was that steel dagger, uncommon for a Myrian to possess, but all the more deadly than their bone-crafted weaponry. He was aware of how the moonlight glimmered off the blade, so he took just a moment to gather loose moist mud from the ground and smear it across the weapon, dulling its color midnight black in the absence of sunlight. His body came next, despite already having a tanned complexion, a swift lathering of mud would help camouflage him from anything that saw in color, or even in shades of light and darkness. His blending wasn't nearly perfect, or even good, but it would help, if only a little. He moved as quickly as silence, or near silence, would permit him. Destination, Taloba, home, safety, bed, rest. Whatever you wanted to call it. It was the only place for a Myrian to truly be safe, under the protective watch of their Patron Goddes Myri, mother of all Myrians. Deja vu. Sheika could have sworn he had this feeling before, eerily recently in fact. That chill, the sixth sense that told him he wasn't alone, and there was something in that dim moonlit night that told him, danger. Damn Dhani, why did it have to be Dhani? Sheika peeked out from behind a particular tree he was hiding behind as he heard something strange. It made him nauseous to see what he saw though, the snake-beast-woman thing was in her half form, and she was squeezing the life out of something, Sheika didn't know what, but assumed by that limp and wrenched arm that happened to be reaching out lifelessly through two large coils, a Rattler Dhani, clubbed tail. Sheika had heard about them. Sheika sighed, almost out of relief as he watched a possible brother or sister of his, already dead in that powerful grip of the snake monster. Why? Because it wasn't him, and his vision he had felt so vivid that he was willing to feel okay about someone else being in the situation. But what if the Dhani did kill a Myrian? What if the victim of that bitch wasn't human, but truly a friend? Sheika was responsible to avenge him. Nobody fucked with a Myrian, right? Sheika told himself this, but his courage was somewhere dancing between empty and spineless, that is until he felt something, an odd surge of rage, and not only that, but another vision. His mother, flickering images of her and her fang, tearing apart snakes like they were nothing but defenseless fish for a meal. Sheika felt it then, not his rage, not his courage, but his mother's, from that enchanted piece of malediction he wore. She was with him, forcing him to act as a real Myrian, hell. She made him feel like the Warrior Goddes Myri herself! But a true warrior was smart, tacticians of battle. Paragons of combat. Ghosts of war. The invisible hunters. Myrian. Myrians, that's what they were, that's what he was. So he waited, not in fear, but for the creature to drop its guard completely. Sheika would observe this thing, he would hunt it, he would end it. He would bring back anything on the fallen comrade, should it be a Myrian, to his people to show what he had found, and he would cut out that scaly bitch's heart and eat it as he carved maniacally into her carcass. This jungle knew of Myrians, but he would make the Jungle realize why it feared them. It took a good many chimes for the Dhani to move, dragging the fresh corpse in her coiled tail that "Death Gripped" the life from the humanoid. She was preoccupied. Sheika could hear her talking to herself, bold and arrogant, not fearing things that were lurking after her. She was proud of her kill, but desperate to feed, and her guard was dropped, but not destroyed completely. He needed to bide his time, and so he followed the Dhani, taking himself off the trail that originally lost him. He was careful though, logical, strategic. He stayed far enough away that he was forced to follow the obvious lines dug into the moist earth. The Dhani's weight, along with her prey's legs, made very distinguishing tracks that were beyond easy to follow, even for him. So he did so, knife in hand and reach to pounce at a moment's notice. He stalked, and stalked.

[Sheika]

Sheika didn't have to follow her far. Maybe half a bell's time, and he was crouched behind another tree, peering at his prey, and his prey's prey. She was already inhaling the unfortunate person, and she had already shifted into the full snake form. The body was expanding in such a strange looking way that Sheika couldn't even believe his eyes. It didn't seem natural, or even possible that it would bulge like this and not burst into a bloody heap of scale and flesh, but she devoured the thing, nice and slow, until it was nothing more than a massive lump in her lengthy body. Sheika figured that the time was about there to strike, yet something held him back. A voice, his mother's? He didn't know. It told him to strike when he could not fail. Sleep, it always came after a meal, for everything. Myrians slept, more easily after they ate, and more so when they were in their home city. This Dhani chose this place because it was familiar to her, comforting to her. She probably never met a Myrian in this place. Sheika grinned as he simply waited in silence, and he was thankful the insect life were as lively as ever. If he made a sound, the Dhani's odd rambling and chatter of bugs kept him fairly well hidden. And he waited. And waited. Then she was asleep, and not just asleep, but been motionless for a solid hour before Sheika was certain the best time was now. He glanced at his knife, still firmly grasped in his hand. His feet, bare foot, smeared in mud, hardened from years of shoe-less travel, he had nothing holding him back now but that subtle fear that urged him to turn around and run for Taloba. It told him the Snake was full, couldn't pursue him. Disgusting cowardice voice. It was ignored without question, because that voice was Sheika, the Non-Myrian. He was something different now, something newly awakened, forced into being by his mother, much like he was at birth. A new birth, a second, more ferocious birth. He was a beast of execution now. Hungry for blood, hungry to kill off that weakness in him. Perhaps even, psychotic. One step at a time, he moved, slowly, painfully slowly. He fought the urge to run in screaming like a maniac to slay the snoozing snake-woman, now few snake form. He moved like this until he was standing right over her head, knife in hand, and he struck. Crouching down and thrusting the blade like a madman. The steel weapon sunk into the flesh of the beast several times, but missed several times as well. One! Two! Three! The head was pierced in his recklessness, he struck where the neck would be on any normal creature, he did this for several seconds before the snake awoke violently and pummeled him with one solid accurate strike with her clubbed tail. Sheika went sprawling to the side, tumbling across the ground as the monster hissed painfully, but even in that darkness he could see the blood that flowed from the snake's newly acquired wounds. The blood soaked his knife, which now glimmered in a beautiful crimson in that moonlight. But he found it difficult to stand. The blow to the head with that tail, it didn't knock him unconscious, but he was dazed, his vision blurred as he watched that coiling mass move, slowly as it was. She couldn't pursue him, no, she was too fat for that. What was she doing. By the time Sheika was standing, the blood from his forehead dripping down into his left eye and down his face, causing just one more problem he had to deal with that night, he saw something disgusting. The mass in her stomach was moving back the way it came. She was releasing the body! That was bad, Sheika was about to lose the primary advantage of his, he had to keep attacking, kill her before she could regurgitate completely. Sheika rushed over again, knife in hand and thrust the weapon through that digesting mass in her body, piercing the skin easily, then again, and again. Sheika worked his was up until he was once again pummeling that head with the jagged dagger. He wasn't sure when she died, be he was certain that he kept going for several minutes until that head was nothing more than a heap of red shredded meat. Sheika breathed easy then as his prey finally stopped living. His job wasn't done though. He took his knife and got to work carving up the snake, splitting her in half so that he would see the body she had engulfed, and as he figured. A Myrian, a young girl, probably twenty or so. A young inexperienced warrior. She was battered horribly, and Sheika couldn't even bring himself to searching her for anything to identify her, so he took the bone earring she had, which was miraculously unharmed or and remained in tact during the struggle, and stood up. "I curse you, snake goddess." Sheika spit a glob of blood that managed to seep into his mouth from his head. Cursing a Dhani was one thing, but cursing Siku, that was bold. Sheika was superstitious too. He believed the gods heard everything if you spoke to them as if they were there. Someday he would hunt her. The Dhani took too many of his people, or so his mother told him. He was, in a sense, his mother now. He thought like her, hunted (partially) like her, and had balls to do the crazy necessities. Finally, Sheika could go home and sleep. Fuck ghosts, he would find a new way to communicate.

[Rage]

GRANTING OF XP (PC name here) Camouflage - 1xp Dagger - 2xp Spiritism - 1xp Stealth - 2xp Butchery - 1xp Tactics - 1xp Tracking - 1xp Lores: Dagger technique: Head stab Dagger technique: Neck stab Spiritism: Visions induced by Possession Camouflage: Using Mud to conceal color and scent Mother's Skull (Partial ability): Grants a small boost in courage when the wearer is paralyzed by fear, just enough to overcome the emotion and be able to think logically again (you may add this in the item's description) Items: Bone Earring - a plain stud crafted from an animal's bone. Sheika does not know from what animal it came from or if t is just a simple accessory or has hidden properties. He may know more about it the longer he wears it, if he chooses to wear it. Rattler carcass - a disemboweled rattler carcass. Can be dried for meat or skinned and tanned. Notes: Excellent read! I love this thread, the good use of details contributed much to the story and the setting of the mood was very well done as well. However, I think you got confused with the snake and Dhani form of a rattler. The club-like appendage is only there when they're in their Dhani form so the part of the thread when it hits you with its tail came off a little weird. In its nake form, it would attack you with its fangs instead and let you suffer from the poison before going in for the kill. Its victim should have died the same way as well. I'll take it for what it is though: that you got hit by its thrashing. But if you had killed it in its Dhani form, I would have granted you its mace-like tail as a reward. Just for future reference.