May Caiyha Smile Upon Us All (Quest/Closed)

[Creeper]

Timestamp: Spring 34th, 512 AV Time: Before Sunrise Location: The Longhouses Who: Ana Sol Starris, Asha, Lixue, Chamaeleon, Tiki, Eldon Sunkiss There was a dream spreading through the slumbers of many within the camp. It would be the same for all of them. It began as a wall of Fog filling their Longhouse, overtaking them all, the effects of the feral nature taking hold quicker than it would normally. They would all feel themselves being lost within their instincts. But just before the brink, a single elderly Jamoura, with a walking stick, walked through, the Fog parting before him. He looked into each of their eyes, and his gaze pierced through them wholly. They all heard thoughts within their minds, but his lips never moved, his voice like that of a grandfather they all knew, "Time to wake up little birds, we have much work to do. It is time to retake our home, once and for all. I have found within each of you a power, a power you do not yet recognize. I cannot ask you to come, I must tell you to. We need each of you, for if one of you falters or fail, our city will be lost forever. So wake up, and travel to here, together, and be prepared. This will be the most important event in each of your lives. Muster your strengths, defeat your weaknesses, and find who you really are." With that, he left them a collection of images. It started with the doorway to their longhouse. Then the center of the camp. Then the west exit of the camp. This trail kept up until for a bell until there was a final image, an image of several exotically dressed and adorned Jamoura Elders in a clearing. They had feathers, bones, plants woven into their fur, some had colored leather wrapped around their arms, legs, and heads, and all carried a unique staff, some adorned by a rugged stone, others simply wood. These Jamoura looked impatient and nervous, knowing the fate of all of The Spires rested in the hands of a few. "Make haste little birds. We haven't much time."

[Tiki]

Tiki was still in his slumber, save for his eyes. The thin lids that covered his eyes were shifting wildly as his eyes underneath twitched back and worth wildly. He started to sweat. It was as if a fever had come over him, for the mornings in Taldera were relatively cool, even in the summer season. It was at high noon that the heat really took over the land, and even still the rivers and streams ran as clear and plentiful as always. It was a dream he was experiencing, or perhaps a nightmare. Tiki saw himself in nature. Hadrian was there, and Kendall. She looked beautiful. Ethan was even there hovering overhead. He saw his family too, from Syliras, Sylira, as he always phrased it. The world was ripe and vibrant. The air was filled with a sweet scent of flowers as the birds sang their melodic tunes. Everyone was smiling to him and each other. The sun was bright overhead, yet vague in its form. The light pierced through the trees as it always did, and with that a shadow was cast. Tiki saw a pair of jamoura eyes. It might have been Grath, Kashal, or even Shruk who had come to join him. Tiki saw the eyes slip away back into the Northern Reaches and he chased after them. What felt like bells was all happening in a matter of minutes. The seamless transition between dream and vision was masterful. They had gone through the untamed wilds, no tree bearing any resemblance to the next. It was an infinite maze of unmarked bark walls framed in green. They came into the base camp, much as Tiki had only days ago, and he was in the long house where he now slept. He was asleep and dreaming, a dream within a dream. Tiki watched as his other self began to turn. The human form transformed on the spread, growing claws and fangs. They were like knives piercing his own flesh in horror and pain. Tiki’s neck twitched back in the living world. The feline form took over the bed, the sheets ripped apart. He stared in horror as the gold of his eyes became diluted in the milky white that overtook them. His teeth and nails became razors and he leapt forward with endless voracity. Tiki was one with it now, this cruel excuse of a feline, Miststalker. All that separated him from such behavior was the gifted intelligence Marcus Kelvic had bestowed upon his creations, a gift now passed down through birth. Tiki saw Ethan frowning from the longhouse ceiling, clinging upside-down, looking on in shame as Tiki was overtaken by his feral spirit. Tiki roared in return, viciously, as he lusted for blood. Tiki was about to pounce on something, anything not himself, before a shaded, hulking figure came through the light at the end of the longhouse. The mist parted around him like a rock through the stream, only it did not curl back around his form. The shape of the mysterious silhouette was unmistakably a jamoura’s, but whose? Then he spoke to the inhabitants of the longhouse, and Tiki felt the bloodlust leave him. Somehow, he just knew he was Tiki once more. The claws were Tiki claws, and his eyes Tiki eyes. Warm thought of Hadrian’s eyes floated over him. Tiki felt himself stand up, becoming covered in the warm embrace of the thoughts, as the jamoura spoke of the urgent matter. Tiki felt whole and free somehow, even in the embrace. Although Tiki knew no grandfather, the voice was surely that of a wise man’s, tempered by experience to echo the worth of his wisdom. The voice of the jamoura elder echoed over and through him. Tiki knew every word as if his own, although he lacked the clarity of mind to fully understand their meanings. Tiki would do as he was told, no less. He knew the city the jamoura reference was undoubtedly the Spires. Tiki did love the Spires. As the myriad of images flooded his mind, each one clearer than pure water in his mind, Tiki’s eyes flurried back in the living world beneath his gentle lids. A twitch in his leg and arm… Tiki felt himself running along the path being shown to him. He was not alone. He was among friends, although he knew not their names. From what he saw and felt, he thought himself taking the vanguard of the group in their trek. The visual advance came to a halt. Tiki felt dwarfed by the outstanding images of the jamoura elders, belittled in every way. The sensation of vertigo settled over his mental self as the images stood before him and the final words were spoken. Tiki’s world burst into birds, butterflies, and gently falling petals as the dream came to a close. Tiki’s eyes stopped their motion, and then opened. It was a gentle awakening, warm as any other. It was just like his dream, only the wold was dark now, and no towering jamoura stood at the end of the longhouse. It was just a dream. Still, the anxiety that settled over him was without a doubt a sign. There was more to the dream. He felt soaked in his sweat. Tiki licked his dry lips and swallowed spit in wanting of a drink. Tiki looked to his left, and then his right, confirming the nightmare was over. The Miststalkers had never left him. The command of the elder resonated against the back of his mind and came back to focus. The path he was to travel was unmistakable, but he knew nothing of his company. Tiki pushed himself off, his back immediately cooled by the flowing breeze over his wet back. Tiki licked his lips again and reached for his water pouch for a drink. A sigh and a half later, Tiki look across the longhouse as the vision started to become reality. The shock of the moment hit Tiki full force just then. He dropped from his bunk and started grabbing for his bag, only packing things he knew he’d need. The water bags, his knives, flint, steel, and a blanket were all stuffed in the now empty bag. He shoved everything else he had in the old bag that he left Syliras, Sylira with. The leather pack was set on the bed, and then he stood there a moment. He was looking around at the others, waiting, just waiting. As much as he wanted to run, leave them behind and rush to the jamouras’ aid, something kept him here and waiting. Maybe it was the vision, maybe it was self doubt, or maybe it was fear – fear of failure, fear of loss… Tiki didn’t know what dangers he’d be facing, although he knew full well there were to be dangers in some form, but they scared him like snarling Miststalkers reaching out from the thick, shadowy mist...

[Asha]

Asha turned fitfully on her bunk, eyes tightly closed in sleep. She was locked tightly in the embraces of a dream though it brought her no pleasure. In her dream she sat upon the very bunk she now slept in and fog crept through the longhouse door. Her dream self stared at the fog listlessly, uncaring. The fog reached her spectral body and curled around it, tendrils invading her nose and throat. As the fog began to choke her she stood and clawed her way through the bank of fog and out of the longhouse. With each step she felt her body change, nails and teeth began to elongate as territorial aggression filled her psyche. Her dream self was confused and angered by the changes. She couldn’t seem to free herself from the fog and her broad, black chest heaved as she sought fresh air. Her entire being trembled in anger and her gaze sought out something or someone to take it out on. A human woman stood near the entrance of the longhouse scrubbing clothes in a bucket of water. Asha felt her weightless, dream body approach the woman and her massive right hand shot out and grasped the woman about the head. Asha looked down as the woman looked up at her. The woman’s mouth formed a perfect ‘O’ in a scream but no sound emitted from her throat. In fact, though she took no note of it while she dreamt, there was not a sound anywhere. No bird chirps or wind rustling leaves in the whole forest. Asha lifted her head to the sky as she held the woman firmly, preparing to crush her skull and feel brain and bone ooze in her thick fingers. She opened her mouth, revealing huge incisors, and roared triumphantly at the clouds. Her roar echoed through the entire camp, the only sound in that entire dreamworld. Before Asha could complete her intended violence, the fog parted before her. Through the parting an elderly Jamoura passed calmly and stood before her. He held her with a solid gaze and she felt shame in her actions. She had almost allowed herself to give in to her instincts completely and take another’s life. Asha’s grip loosened, and the woman’s body dissolved into the fog. Asha took no notice of the woman’s sudden disappearance and quickly forgot her existence as she continued to lock gazes with the elder. She felt booming, deep words echo through her mind though the elder’s lips never twitched. She listened to the elder’s speech, enraptured with each word as her anger slowly ebbed away. As the last echo of the elder’s words faded from her mind a flurry of images replaced it. The images showed her a path through the camp and forest to a group of Jamoura dressed in bones and feathers. As the last image faded so did her dream, both fading into blackness. The blackness began to become brighter, and suddenly Asha was sitting upright in her longhouse bunk. She wasn’t sure what to make of the dream, but she knew it was a call to help her people. A call to help her home was not one she could ignore and so she stood. She gazed around the longhouse, a few stirred here and there. She didn’t know if any others had shared her dream so she decided against speaking up. She strode to the entrance of the longhouse and passed through it, shuddering as she remembered what it was like passing through this place in her dream. She tried not to think of the dream woman she had almost killed and quickened her pace through the camp.

[Ana Sol Starris]

The sleep was light, but possibly deep enough for vague dreams to wander about her rapidly shut eyelids. Everything was the same, a time once lived, Zeltiva abloom in her mind as she took slow steps up to the second floor of her former childhood home. Every step she took, a clutch in her heart grew tighter and tighter, to the point she felt she would choke in her sleep if she did not open the door right away. The small Anas pace remained the same, ever unchanging as she came up to the door, her small hands gripped the knob as her eyes began to water uncontroably. The sounds of violence pierced through the door and grew in volume- then stopped. Blinking, the silence was eerie as she stood in the middle of the Longhouse she slept in with many others, their bodies sleeping ever soundly, peacefully. Ana glanced about, confused, now an adult, but oddly was not estranged by that fact. The forest beyond the field whispered, lightly, as the fog over took the longhouse considerably quickly. Ana stared at it, emotionlessly, head tilting to the side as it engulfed her.. Badump... Badump... Went the thiefs heart within her chest, fear quickly rising as her spell broke, she began to thrash violently to get it away from her. It was too late, the fog was working doubly quick on herself "guys! The mists in the camp! The CAMP!" Ana shouted, both loudly in her dream and into the morning as well when she tried to distance herself from the wall of white. To no avail. Every feeling she was afraid of bombarded her senses to follow, fear first, anger second, lust third and then finally a need to kill. To see blood, she wanted something dead, right now, right here. Right then. Blood, though it wasn't as bad as touch and being in water, it held a tightening grip on her throat as she tried to dart away, to hide, scurry before attempting to knock beds down, flip them over like a maddened animal, a dog backed into an inescapable corner. Then suddenly, the feeling ceased, the mist parted and an elderly and wizened looking Jamoura had entered. Turning, she glared harshly at him as the fog acted as his cloak, his stare, like a softly edged but strikingly piercing dagger to her mind seemed to have freed her just as quickly as she had been captured. Anas heart was racing against her chest, pounding hard to the point she felt it might burst, his words, calming, soothing, they only just relaxed her to the point she could listen to him carefully. The jamoura, he reminded her of something.. But possibly nothing, vague, very unlikely memories of a grandfather passed her eyes only to be lost again. His request, no, he wasn't asking, he was demanding her to follow his call, she stared at him like a frozen deer. Anas heart thumping rapidly against her chest as she watched carefully, trying, with every shred of sanity she clung to in that petching mist to understand him. Mission, the brief word passed through her ears, you have a mission to engage in, though the Jamoura had not said it directly to her. The simple and short sentence was all she needed to comprehend what he was saying, her own way of understanding, if it was a mission he was putting upon her then she would gladly do it. A job. The reason they came to the Spires in the first place, a mission to reclaim it, she opened her mouth just as the wizened Jamoura disapeared, she was about to ask something, trivial, but something... No, this wasn't the time to ask it. Not right now, perhaps later? The dream had seemed so real she was confusing the reality around her with the imagination of her mind. Such as all her dreams induced, taking on life like qaulities albeitly with magical properties, inexplainable odds and occurences. An image of a hidden face of the darkness lingered, flashing by only as a brief memory, Motif hadn't visited her in the dream.. Did that make the dream a reality? No Motif? With a gasp she awoke, clutching her chest and writhing to awake further, sweating, shaking, the small woman was in somewhat of a state of shock.. Pausing, she inhaled slowly, then exhaled, rubbed her eyes then stretched once she had calmed properly. What a strange dream.. Most of the images had dissapeared but the ones leading out of the camp to the strangely dressed Jamoura that seemed to have been waiting.. For what? Ana pondered curiously, all but the few images and a mission passing from her mind to be devoured into her subconscience. No longer groggy, she swung her feet to the ground and stood up already fully clothed from the night before, placing her scabbard to her side then quickly digging through her stuff.. Ana wondered, what was she doing exactly? Follow a dream? One most odd... Actually, it worried her, not once had such a dream like that been presented to her but rather gruesomely depicted horrors of her family. It wouldn't hurt to check it out, right? Anas curiousity was really getting the better of her these days, especially when nothing really interesting happened about the camp. With a shrug she began to seperate items from necessities, which in truth wasn't much. The Spires weren't exactly thievy denizens as she had noticed before now, but she didn't entirely trust them from Sunberthian experience. With a stressed sigh she put everything back in her bag and onto her back, strapped the buckler on her arm and looked around her, shaking her head slightly then running a hand through it to calm the mess down. She needed a comb or brush soon badly otherwise she'd have to cut the blonde locks off to a suitable length. With a glance around, it had seemed there were others doing the same, getting ready for unknown reasons to Ana.. Wait, no they couldn't have possibly had the same dream, right?

[Chamaeleon]

Usually, when she slept, she didn't dream. Or rather, she didn't remember dreams anymore. Limbs twitched in her sleep, bumping into the press of bodies around her. Even in sleep she was hunting. Hunting to satisfy some bestial need, craving, or hunger. Her black claws closed around a throat in her dream, wrung the life out of some animal that was not an animal. She dreamt bringing her meal back to the others and watching them tear at it. She would eat something else, something easier than stringy meat from a fox. Abruptly, her mates turned to face Out. She followed their eyes. An old ape creature came towards them, and as one the lot of them snarled, their dream warning coming out remarkably clear. Teeth were shown from both the fur-clothed and skin-clothed and hackles rose at the threat of the armed monkey. If memory served right, they were hard to kill, but age meant a lot. The ape looked across them, almost sadness in his deep, dark eyes, before they rested on her. Immediately, she showed her fangs in her own challenge as he addressed her, only the barest meaning of his words seeping through her instinct to defend. She perceived him as a threat, one to her pack, and dared him to come closer with every wordless snarl past her ghostly lips. When his words died out, her dream seemed to shatter into fragments of images of things that reminded her of Out. Buildings woven of wood, wise old monkeys all armed with staffs, and the center.of Out. With a start, she woke, jerking against the two on either side of her. One stirred, giving her room to sit up and look around. Her chest heaved from the excitement of the dream, adrenaline that shot through her in preparation for a fight. There was no one else but them, though, and she was angry because of it. The Symenestra got onto all fours and slowly stretched. She felt soreness creeping up on her from the rough lifestyle her pack had chosen, but didn't complain. It was this or death out there. Even now, the apes were howling at one another in defiance and somewhere, probably closer than would have been comfortable had the sound not been familiar, a snake rattled its tail. It was one of them, though, a scale-skin they kept because he was stronger than them all. They did not run with apes in her pack, and they needed all the strength they could get. She picked her way through the bodies, slapping at one as she opened bleary eyes to look at her. The spider didn't like to be stared at. The other female growled quietly but was seemingly too tired to do anything about the abuse, turning over and falling right back asleep. The spider crept beyond the edges of their "den", which was more of a water-corroded gap in the bark of a tree, and made her way to the stream of water that ran through the entire city. Warily scanning the fog that hugged against her body for signs of an outsider, she slowly lowered her guard enough to lower her head and lap at the water. Her whole body was tensed, ready to flee. The dream was but a distant memory to her now, something to remember when she was winding down to sleep.

[Eldon Sunkiss]

Eldon was exhausted. The young Drykas warrior, turned adventurous champion of Caiyha (not officially, be he felt like it recently) was still very new in the Spires. The work that needed to be done would not easily be completed. He wasn't sure what work was still to be done, much less how and why he himself was important (assuming he was at all, really), but he was here. It was the dreams that first drew Eldon from Endrykas to the Spires. Since then, he hadn't slept well. Whether it was something in the Djed storm that wafted magical fallout over him, or just him feeling overtaxed, overzealous, and overly active in his cause, he hadn't slept well in days. An hour here, three or so there. Tonight was one of those nights that he sat in his bunk, silently listening to the faint snores and peaceful (and not so peaceful in some cases) slumbers of the others nearby. The others, Eldon didn't know them, yet felt the urge to. He was new here, spoke none of the common languages that most in the Spires spoke, and hungered for genuine fellowship. As said, Eldon could have sworn he hadn't slept, but it was just like that night when the dreams spoke of the Spires. Tonight, he dreamed, possibly without sleeping, about one purpose of his. Eldon found himself standing in his homeland, Cyphrus, so many years away it felt, yet he was there. Eldon, he was without his horse, his trusty companion Vanah, and without his Drykas people. Yet, somehow, he knew that it was for the best. Like, he was expelled from them, abandoned by them, left to die, by them. Eldon wanted to say that, as terrible as it felt, that's how it was. He was exiled, forced to leave these lands on foot, an almost guaranteed death in such a place, but even that felt wrong. He knew it was wrong, because he felt the unnatural stride to his step. He wasn't a Drykas, not a human, but something different, familiar, yet different. It was like his body was controlled by something, an emotion perhaps, that could not be restrained. His stomach ached faintly from hunger, natural hunger, like that when you hadn't eaten all day. Hunt! The Eldon, whatever he was, took off in a maddened run through the tall golden grasses of Cyphrus as he again felt all the familiar sensations of home. The feel of the dry earth on his bare feet, the smell of the grasses dancing in the strong warm winds, the sky as blue and cloudless as ever, and here he was, chasing his soon to be meal. This was exciting! He was home! He was back home and hunting his natural prey! Sama'el! Eldon would have paused, choked, and thrusted a knife into his own chest just to deny himself of this strange animalistic behavior. Here he was, watching from his own point of view, Eldon dashing for his own cousin, his brother in blood, his best friend. Eldon watched, it was all he could do as his massive taloned feet carried him soaring over the earth, his own razor-sharp beak clamping wildly as it anticipated tearing and cleaving the most important living person left in his life in half. Eldon tried so desperately to cry out, to stop himself, but it wasn't until blood splattered and drenched his eyes that he felt his world grow dark. Eldon would have felt relief, yet something told him that relief was not yet there to be felt. Instead, he opened his eyes, only too once again see his homeland, except from a new point of view. Now he was flying, and down below he saw a gruesome sight, a sight that he knew too perfectly well despite being too far away to see. It was a Glassbeak tearing apart his cousin. It was the other Eldon, killing his last love in life. Again Eldon tried to scream, but instead of his cries of pain he heard a terrifying screech, one that made his own ears ache in agony, making the hairs on his neck stand at attention. This was a sound he'd never forget. It was a Zith. Eldon didn't have to imagine very far to understand what was happening now. He was the Zith, the worst, most gods-be-damned creature he'd ever met in his life. As to be expected, the new body of Eldon moved without his will saying to do so, it's mighty wings beat viciously against the night sky (yes, the day had shifted to night in mere seconds) as the monster descended. Again he felt that hunger in his stomach, except it was more brutal now. The pain was more desperate, and would settle for nothing less that the shattering of Eldon's heart. He found himself landing gently against the ground, and the Zith took from flying, to silently stalking through the grass. In the distance, a horse whinnied, a dog barked, and a man was speaking aloud in Pavi, yet for some reason Eldon couldn't decipher his language. It felt like ages before the Zith in control took over the dog, burying it's claws deep into the canine's belly and pulling from it everything inside. Next, the man charged with a spear, a thrust, a strike, a random throwing knife, over and over the Drykas tried to kill the Zith, but it was too quick, it over powered the man, disarmed him, and threw him to the ground. It wasn't until Eldon, trapped behind the eyes of the Zith, was standing over his father that he recognized him. Staring up at Eldon with the same bewilderment that Eldon felt. "Son?" Eldon didn't even get the chance to reply (though it would have been futile) before he saw his father slain, for the second time, by a Zith. This time, it was Eldon. Twice his fault, first time by his own hand. Eldon's world went dark once more, only to return him to the bunk he was sleeping on, though he felt like he still hadn't slept in days. He glanced around the room, thick with fog, a scent of blood lingering in the air as he glanced around. All around him there were sleeping people, of every race. Again he felt that hunger in his stomach. He was certain that he would be forever trapped in moments like this, for the rest of his life. The young Drykas tried to bury himself under the blanket, as if doing so would shelter his feral feeling, his wild uncontrollable anger and viciousness, like some beast, but is efforts were no good. All he wanted to do, was kill, to maul, to eat and kill again. He slowly crawled from his bunk to the floor, on hands and feet both, and stalked slowly across the room, stood just to hover over the slumbering lump underneath their blanket, and he felt the teeth in his mouth growing exponentially, the nails on his hands morphing into dagger-like claws, and his eyes shifted to a black-and-white spectrum. Lastly, he could even hear the pumping of blood through their neck, their chest, he could smell the sweat on their face, their arms. Yet, he was held still as the fog seemed to dissipate from around him. He turned slowly to see a Jamoura standing there. Eldon listened intently, and for the first time this night it was because he wanted to. He was once more in control of his actions. Then, when the Jamoura finished his speech, a command to assist the Spires (surely, one of his purposes) was given to him, and the vision departed. His own eyes fell victim to a series of views, different locations, pieces of a map, parts of a puzzle that led to his destination, or at least the first of many. Eldon blinked, his body ached from his muscles alone tensing so viciously. His eyes fluttered painfully as he glanced around the room, he was standing just where he was before the Jamoura stopped him. Right where he was when he nearly killed whoever it was that still slumbered there. He gasped lightly, fearing (though illogically) that everything he had dreamed had really happened. He wanted to jump back in his bunk and sob, but he couldn't. He had a job to do. Mourning his father's death could wait. After gathering what he needed (he both knew and ignored that there were others awake before him, and probably saw him watching someone sleep with murderous intent), his spear, his waterskin, his trousers and shirt, boots and his pack (which is where Sylvi still slept soundly, thank the gods she didn't witness Eldon's nightmares too), he stood up and looked at everyone else in the room that was awake. It was like he was looking for confirmation that he wasn't alone in this, yet somehow, he was certain he could point out just who else had received the visions. He locked eyes with Tiki for a moment. And he just knew, he wasn't alone.

[Lixue]

Lixue rarely dreamed. Tonight was different. In real life, her petite body was engulfed between her husband, Ly, and the wall. Both were asleep, though one was frowning and the other emotionless. In Lixue's dream, a wall of fog overtook the longhouse. She fought to not breathe it in, having seen the effects first hand, but the attempt was useless. Breathing was necessary sooner or later. Cool to her nostrils, Lixue thought when the thick air was sucked in. Slowly, the feeling of calm fled, leaving behind only anger, desperation, and basic instincts struggling against her normal mind. It left her fighting between the need to attack the nearest person and flee from the camp. Before she could give into the mental battle, a male Jamoura appeared. He was obviously an elder, judging from the walking stick. Lixue recoiled, warily watching the man. Confusion slipped into the haze inside Lixue's mind when the Jamoura began to speak, but did not have moving lips. "Time to wake up little birds, we have much work to do. It is time to retake our home, once and for all. I have found within each of you a power, a power you do not yet recognize. I cannot ask you to come, I must tell you to. We need each of you, for if one of you falters or fail, our city will be lost forever. So wake up, and travel to here, together, and be prepared. This will be the most important event in each of your lives. Muster your strengths, defeat your weaknesses, and find who you really are." She fought to listen, fought to hear everything he told her and fought to overcome the effects of the fog. Fought to stay in control. He wanted to take over the Spires again? But he needed… her help? Was the man ill? Lixue was not sure she could help him. Her crippled body was not suited to saving a city. Before she could continue thinking, pictures overtook her currently fragile mind. The longhouse doorway, the camp center, the exit of camp, several more landmarks before Jamoura filled the picture. Strangely dressed, they wore feathers, bones, and plants. Others had leather. Every single one had a staff of some kind. Empathy slid past the effects of the fog, made Lixue want to help in whatever way she could, even as the fog made her want to fight each one. Awaking with a gasp, Lixue pushed against the blanket holding her down. Cold sweat covered her body. Goosebumps lay upon smooth flesh. Breathing hard, she lay on the bunk for a few moments. Was she going to travel to the location the elder Jamoura wanted her to? What were the chances this was something more than a simple dream? No one in her longhouse was moving. Did she want to travel more than a bell into the wilderness on a simple hunch? There was no harm in trying, given an untamed creature did not try to eat her alive! Rolling over Ly to leave the bunk, Lixue nearly screamed when a hand grasped her elbow. Ly's purple and pink eyes seemed worried, running over her face. "You alright?" filled the silence. "I am fine, just going for a walk. Do not fret. Sleep well." Leaning down, a chaste kiss was placed on his brow before Lixue continued removing herself from the bunk. Retrieving her cane from under the bed, Lixue limped her way out of the longhouse into the fresh night air. Those who were not marked by Morwen may have found it cold but Lixue found it refreshing. Somewhere nearby, an owl hooted. During the long walk, Lixue was silent except for her pant legs brushing together and the soft pat pat of her cane on the ground. She did not know what to expect upon arriving at the designated place, but found a group of people waiting. It appeared she was the last to arrive.

[Creeper]

Deurl looked around at his fellow Jamoura, through the eye holes of a baby Olidosipox skull. He had contacted his charges, and the birds were telling him that they were nearing. He smiled as Asha was the first to arrive, true to the dedication of her people. He stood before her, garbed most strange, even for the native. Hanging from the skull were strings of beads that looked like bone. Draped from his neck, was another string of colorful feathers and teeth from various creatures. He held a staff in hand topped with a writhing vine plant that Asha had never seen before, and it looked as if it were an actual part of the staff, and not just an adornment. "I see you are truly your father's daughter, always first when needed. We will save our city this day Asha, and you, you will make your father even more proud than he already is of you." The rest of those called arrived, seeing Deurl standing before Asha, with the rest of the Elders standing behind him in a semi-circle. The Jamoura looked at each of them, "Today, we reclaim our home from the travesties of a war between petty gods. Caiyha has blessed us once during the Valterrian, and has done so again, by bringing you here today. I cannot tell you your exact roles in this just yet, for we must make haste. We head for our home, and will be seeking out the Temple of our True Goddess. Lixue, we are aware of your condition, and as such, you will have to be carried by one of my brethren. We cannot be slowed." He then looked back over his shoulder to one of the other Elders, and nodded in Chamaeleon's direction. The woman had been touched heavily by the Fog, and would need her wits about her. A female Jamoura, wearing an elaborate, feathered headdress, and several bands of leather and strung bone, carrying a staff adorned by several bird skull, approached the Symenestra, her powerful gaze piercing Chamaeleon's own. A voice could be heard only by Chamaeleon, "As a child of the sun goddess, surely you would look to feel her caress again? So much time in the cold, dark mist? Away from the friends and companions that bring so much light into your life? Remember them," the woman's mental voice, a gift from Leth, emboldened by an Emotional Surge, of joy, feeling of belonging, of being looked after. "So let your own light shine through the tendrils of the fog, and glow brilliantly once more Chamaeleon, child of Syna, glow. Do it! Now!" The Jamoura woman finished this off with a Hallucination, of Syna's light piercing through everything, and enveloping the Ethaefal, comforting her, warming her, embracing her. Chamaeleon's mind began to clear through the feral effects, a torch through cobwebs. And with mental change came the physical change. Syna was truly peaking through the trees, as the woman shifted to the form more pleasing to her goddess. But it was not the form she was used to, hair that would be auburn, his streaks of sunshine through them, was now a dull shade of lilac, with undertones of rose layered beneath. Her horns, formerly a bleak white, were now a stunning pink, with cords of emerald wrapping around them. Deurl spoke, "Now that we are whole, it's time we move." He led the group northwesterly, passing Ana, noticing the green shade of her hands and smiled. "We might be able to fix that, if you'd like, when this is all over." About a bell and a half later, the group was trekking through the Fog laden city, having been unmolested thus far into the journey. Many of the wild animals and brethren had either been rescued already, or were doing all they could to avoid such a large group. Deurl stopped at the edge of the Meditative Petal, looking into the Temple of Caiyha, head cocked curiously. The Temple was surrounded and alive with nearly every variety of flying insect, bird, bat, and anything else that flew. The Hahk'Maghtar that supported the Temple we crawling with sentinels in the form of squirrels, lizards, and other climbing creatures. Deurl smiled, "They've all rallied together to protect our Temple. Suequortie must still be alive, this is wonderful news, wonderful indeed." Deurl grabbed a vine that was used to swing from the Petal into the Temple, and hiked up his legs, and swung toward the protective swarm. They parted swiftly, allowing him safe passage, before refilling the gap once more, obscuring all vision of the Temple. They would part for any who had come to truly save Her Temple, and any others would meet a swift and painful death long before they landed in the nets below.

[Tiki]

OOCThis is no longer a place holder...

Tiki gazed back at Eldon with the kelvic seeming eyes of gold. His pupils shifted, taking in all the light he could to get a look around. Not many were moving here, but there was Eldon. He didn’t know anything of the man, or of his markings. Tiki knew though, or at least realized, he wasn’t alone and this was very real. The vision that had flooded over him had started his heart with a thump-thump, but Eldon’s stare sent him into overdrive. There was no time to waste. The items were tossed into the bag wildly, what was left. With the bag slung over his shoulders, Tiki was down on all fours growling to Eldon, “Let’s go,” ignoring that the man wouldn’t hear his meaning. The lightly packed bag bobbed along his back with his shifting shoulders, quick through the camp for the vision view of the distant location only so far across the Talderan wilderness. Eldon was a strong man, he felt, and could keep up if he needed. Others would be closing in on them too. Tiki was more concerned with the images however, and making sure to have each and every one connect in his mind. There was no room for error, even if it was just a walk through the wilds… Tiki’s mind was focused to a point of obsession. The Spires would be restored, and with it some sense of normalcy since the storm. Tiki came to the first pause. He could close his eyes and feel the freshness of the images engraved into his memory. He walked over a bit further and felt the visual mesh with the abstract. This was the starting location, and then he was off again, the vision leading him. He didn’t wait up at all. He was faster on all fours, knew it, and put it to use. The spiraling sensation of the dream began to straighten out and become a composition of smooth curves and sharp turns he felt as his paws dug into the dirt and hurried off in the right direction. A bird called from the canopy, and Tiki paused to glance. The bird flew off ahead of him squawking nonsense through the forest. Nothing was amiss. He continued on as quickly as he had lost focus. He was following the bird now, an element previously absent from his visions. Tiki would admit to moments that he was lost, or scared of being lost, but he had the bird singing ahead of him lighting the way. He could track the sound, letting the waves bounce against the hard bark back to his sensitive ears. The scent was something light on the air too. The parallel of his vision was extraordinary to behold as well. He had been here before, it seemed. He knew the way, he did, and he could run. Tiki ran, and soon the bird was alongside him as they continued on unchallenged through the reaches. The bird flew ahead and met with its nest. Tiki darted after it as more began to emerge from the trees and then vanished. The Jamoura, even in their dress, were hidden amongst the brush for a time before the gentle shifting of their furred bodies ushered him forth. He didn’t need to run anymore. He was here. Where here was? What he was doing here? It didn’t come to him, not even a murmur in the rushing thoughts of all he had just passed through. He was here now with a purpose, fangs bared for their own purpose as it will be necessary. Eldon was shown the same images Tiki was, and others, no? He saw the band of Jamoura before him, elders, old... He purpose in being here, practically an outsider now roaming their territory, was just a sign that they needed help. This was a task the Jamoura themselves dared not even attempt alone, and so the tone of the situation resonated about Tiki. This wouldn’t just be any tour through the Spires, whatever they were up to. Tiki approached with caution and settled himself within earshot of the elders as the others approached. The elders acknowledged his presence as the rest, though he only returned his glance. The coming of the others alarmed him a good deal, save for Eldon. It was just the sheer chance they were in the same long house and he had confirmed the vision was sent to him too that gave Tiki reason to trust him. Asha was here before. The familiar face was a comfort. There was the thief too, who Tiki shied away from. The Symenestra was something that made the fur on his body stand up. To see Chamaeleon’s transformation was wonderful. He didn’t trust it, but still Tiki found himself amazed by magic again. Last there was the cripple, Lixue. He didn’t think much of her, and really didn’t understand her being here. Deurl spoke and Tiki heard him. He didn’t question dragging Lixue along, and did his best to be accepting of fate. He just hoped it would end well. The path to the Spires was marked by the flutter of nature again, as the elders led the way. Tiki was anxious the whole while. He dare not run ahead, or wonder off. He was there though, keeping close to the rear and watching the forest’s every movement outside of their group. Tiki was on high alert and wondered how terrible it would be going through the city. His anxiety was let down once more as his body braced for the shock of a fight, but none came to them just yet. His chest already low to the ground reached down further with deep breaths that gathered in his chest. He was so full of heart and passion for the city, and had no outlet, not yet. Then they came to the wall. Deurl’s words were strange. Tiki’s memory of the Temple above all else was something very faded. He knew it was sanctuary at the most. The living barrier was just another screen over his memory. He recalled the mile wide beauty of the temple, not walls. Whoever this Suequortie was, she didn’t seem to be doing so great a job from the outside. Tiki lost sight of Deurl as the elder swung into the temple. Something along the line of Where’d the big guy go? circled through Tiki’s mind when he saw the wall shift back into place. It wasn’t a waste of energy to shift back and swing in, but much more of that and he’d be tired quick. It’d be okay if he timed to right to be in his native form. He could at least fight better then. Tiki shifted with the light on that note, and grabbed held of the nearest vine and followed the elder’s lead. Tiki stopped at the edge ready to jump on before he looked back at the swarming wall and stopped. He was never really fond of birds. They were a good snack if you had the energy to spare hunting some of them. Insects weren’t exactly fascinating either. If anything they were a nuisance and bother being poisonous and stinging and whatnot. Bats…bats where just odd, but Tiki was odd too so that as excusable. It was the rushing of their masses together, their strange blend of faces and bodies that crept Tiki out. The thought of being overwhelmed by the mass was just one of those things that could get to someone. A swarm of sharp beaks ripping him apart was not a welcomed thought; though it would be vengeance enough for what he had killed in the past. Here it goes… Tiki closed his eyes and remembered why he was here. The other Jamoura did it. Surely he could too? Tiki grabbed hold of the slugsuckle vine and took one last look at the outside of the wall and his company. He took a breath, hopped up and swung into the wall, well through it. He came to the edge of his swing, still clinging to the vine, eyes shut, and his breath being held. Tiki swung back for the wall and it opened back up for him as he went out, and back in… An elder did well to grab him the second time he came out and took to the vine with him. Tiki was pulled away from the vine and let loose to soar for his few brief seconds before landing in the nets. He was so overcome with fear of having fallen that he forgot where he was as he stumbled to his four feet hissing. A new realization came to him, and there it was. Tiki was in Caiyha’s Temple. He was dumbfounded as he saw the beaming light come from down above, but totally blocked out by the shifting wall that went all the way around. He saw then how the animals parted for them as they swung through. He didn’t think of what he must have been like though, only the mystery of the event. Tiki was lost staring at the moving wall for the next moments before Deurl would call them back together, or another elder would have to tend to stragglers. How fascinating nature could be...

[Asha]

Asha’s strides were long and quick as she traveled through the forest. Each stone and tree was familiar from the images in her dream and gave her a startling sense of déjà vu. Her chest heaved gently as she strode. Speed was not a trait any Jamoura could claim and the pace she had set for herself caused some exertion. For a bell she traveled through the forest unmolested. It was strange that no animals came across her path or bothered her journey. It was as if she had been given a pass through the forest, though she had little time to dwell on that thought. She finally arrived at the clearing where the Jamoura elders waited. Their dress was bizarre to her eyes, skulls and bones decorated their bodies. A male stepped forward to speak to her, though Asha found herself entranced by his staff. A vine wrapped around the body of it, though it hardly looked like it was merely wrapped. The vine appeared to almost be alive and living upon the staff. It was strange, certainly, and made the hairs on the back of Asha’s neck stand on end at the unnaturalness of it. Surely magic was involved. An old, deep magic from the fount of nature and life. Her eyes snapped away from the vine and to the elder as he spoke to her. As he mentioned her father her jaw tightened, emotion clawing at the back of her throat. Truly this male had seen her heart and knew her weakness, her desire to bring pride to her family. She at once hated and admired him for this. Hating him for invading the private places of her mind and admiring him for his skill of persuasion. She had no voice to respond to him, so she merely nodded her acceptance of his words. Her chest had ceased heaving but her heart still throbbed powerfully, though she knew not whether it was from her exertion or the emotions he had stirred in her chest. Asha gazed around as a host of other creatures soon arrived at the clearing. Apparently she had not been the only one summoned. She was of course grateful for the company. Standing before the group of elders had been rather intimidating, and the thought of accomplishing some task for them daunting. She recognized a few faces in the group though she refrained from approaching them. She was too curious about what the Jamoura might want from them, though if she was honest with herself her curiosity was more of a tight ball of apprehension. The male spoke to the group as a whole, and informed them of what they were trying to accomplish before settling issues with a few individuals. Asha tried to be discreet as she looked over her fellow group members. They were a ragtag bunch there was no doubt about that, though she did include herself in that classification. Asha watched with interest as Chamaeleon changed, horns appearing and hair changing hues. She had never seen such a thing before and was entranced with the delicate beauty that it lent Chamaeleon. Asha had to admit to herself that for a hairless, human-like creature, Chamaeleon was absolutely gorgeous with the changes that had been wrought on her. Deurl spoke again, breaking Asha’s concentration and bidding them to begin the next part of their journey. After what felt like chimes to Asha, she was in the city proper again. It was just as destroyed and wrecked as the last time she had been here. They stood at the edge of the Meditative Petal and Asha slowly turned her head, taking in all the destruction. It was all the same as last time, but it hurt no less to look upon her shattered home. She had been unsure and awkward before they ascended the petals, following the elders mostly out of a sense of duty and curiosity. But now her resolution hardened and sharpened in her mind, there was absolutely no other option then to be exactly where she was doing whatever she would be asked to do. Deurl focused his gaze on the Temple, and Asha realized that was the target of their mission. He turned and spoke a few words to them, but they hardly mattered. It was only intonations meant to comfort them. Asha needed no comfort, she would do what she must and accept what consequences befell her as a small price to serve her city. The male Jamoura grabbed a vine and swung easily to the other side. Seeing the ease with which he accomplished gave her confidence. She had not visited the Temple very much in her lifetime and the vines always made her a little uncomfortable. Asha stepped up beside a few others who were grabbing vines. As she grasped a thick vine she turned to her nearest neighbor and nodded wordlessly, taking and sharing solace in the task ahead. Asha attempted to mimic the movements of Deurl and swiftly curled her legs up into her body. As she began to swing towards the Temple she could feel her stomach jump up into her throat and her heart began to beat rapidly. She was not a thrill seeker by any means and the rush of adrenaline made her nervous. The swing over seemed to stretch into eternity, but soon enough she approached waiting swarm, hoping it would part for her as it had the last.