Whats that sound? (Shadowfang, Wrenmae)

[Shadowfang]

A strong gust of wind knocked him off course and he fell. Fast. If he did not act quickly, one of his wings could break when his hit the ground, so he wrapped them around his body and rolled as he hit the ground to soften the blow. For a moment he just lay there dazed and stunned, staring at the millions of stars in the sky. How had such a strong gust of wind suddenly appeared and how had it only hit one of his wings? It did not make sense. His hazy thoughts were interrupted when a sharp pain suddenly appeared in his left hand. He turned his head to look and slowly pieced together what had just happened. 

Stab. Stomp. Twist.

Shadowfang screamed in pain, writhing and kicking about on the ground. He could feel the intense pain even in his mostly numb hand. Cold. So cold. Before he could move to try and pull the dagger out of his hand, another dagger stabbed through his right wing. His screams only got louder and his struggling more violent. He told himself that he needed to stay still. The more he moved, the more it hurt, and the more damage the blades would do, but he was in too much agony to listen to himself. Suddenly Wrenmae was standing over him, smiling a smug petching smile, bringing his face close to the Zith's and speaking to him. Shadowfang gritted his teeth. He could not comprehend what the human was saying, he was too mad. This face in front of him... it was the face of a man who had just killed one of their own family and was about to kill Shadowfang. 

Shadowfang had killed before, but there had always been a reason; self defense, hunger, hatred, they were all good reasons to him. But Shadowfang had promised never to kill anyone from the Crimson Edge when he joined, to do so would be like killing a member of his colony. But this man... Shadowfang suddenly lashed out, clawing at the Wrenmae's face with his one free hand, completely blinded by anger, pain, and hate. He was going to kill him. He was going to kill him, get up, and devour his remains. 

With every one of Shadowfang's swings, claw ripped through flesh, and with every one of Wrenmae's blows, his fist pounded against the Zith's face. Hands grabbed the sides of Shadowfang's head. He felt himself lifted slightly, then the back of his head slammed into the ground.

Darkness.

[Wrenmae]

He stood, wiping blood from he scratches along his face and taking the alcohol from Ana. Taking a breath, he doused the lacerations with the spirits, hissing at the pain. Shadowfang was unconscious, his chest rising and falling in the shuddering sort of way that living folk often did. Every now and then he twitched, yanking subconsciously at the tethers that held him. Shroud pressed some of the bandage against the cuts on his cheek, sighing and kneeling down to touch the membrane of Shang's right wing. He'd been observing and studying the Zith for the better part of the season. Morphing was about the acquisition of shape, the power of control. Ones own body was the malleable clay to the shaper's desires. The Zith had wings, the Zith could fly. What grounded human did not want, at some level, to fly? This wasn't Shroud's first encounter with a Zith. The last he had seen of one, its body was flayed bare, its bones scoured for secrets, and its wings almost obsessively examined. Not that he could try morphing from that sort of torn and bloodied corpse, but this one...yes. He had the knowledge to attempt a model and Robert here would provide the living host he needed in order to try his hand at the Zith. "Bring me a lantern, Ana, and be quiet while you move...I don't want to be interrupted." A scowl painted his face as he knelt, taking Shadowfang's right hand in his own and feeling the curved toughness of the claws, the light fur that ran along his body and up his arm. He let it drop. Stepping back, he took the shirt from his back and laid it on the ground, stretching his muscles and sighing. Morphing always took a lot out of him. Frankly, this endeavor would be his first significant change since the Dhani. The wings would likely be the most difficult, new limbs always were. But he felt accomplished at the level he was, that he could take this creature's form and bend it to his will...maybe not perfectly, but enough to have a model to improve upon in the future. He began with the fur, visualizing the velvet dark tufts that grew from Shang's body, bunching up in ruffs along his arms, the slightly pointed ears, the pointed teeth. These were relatively easy changes to make, pulling Djed from within his body to seep just beneath his skin. By tugging it up over his body, shoots of blue-black hair spread across his skin like a bruise. They grew and spread, a blackened rash that overtook his body and face in light patches of the soft hair. His ears elongated, pointing slightly, and his own hair grew darker as well to compensate. Djed collected at the ends of his fingers, pushing up his nails into black claws, sharpened and deadly, tough as the Zith he'd subdued. The same pushed out from his feet, drifting up from his own toe nails and wiggling as he experimentally flexed the muscles in his foot. Ana would return soon, and he'd need her to hold the lantern while he studied the way the wings worked. He knew the Zith were light, their bones had to be in order to allow them flight. In his impromptu dissection, he'd discovered it as well. His own bones were shifting inside him, taking new shape, lighter, hollow, like birds...or Symenestra. Fragility accepted for the gift of superior dexterity He could live with that.

[Ana Sol Starris]

Ana shook with a growing fear, eyes darting between Shroud and then Shang, was he going to kill the Zith? No, no, why would he? Besides the fact said Zith had just technically kidnapped her against her will whilst she wasn't feeling all too good. The small thief wanted to help, to show she was of some use with the first aid stuff but she didn't honestly know what to do, especially not with her aching body, and cold dunked, heat splashed persperating temperatures. What if she was sick? What if she got him sick? Of course she was sick! Why did she continue to ignore it like it would go away on its own, obviously it hadn't and had only gotten worse over time; shivering involuntarily, Ana swayed a bit on her leg that didn't sting as badly as the other. Eyes drooped, blinking, farther, then widening as she forced herself awake at her companions words. Giving him a look akin to begging for him to let her go back to the tent to just rest, to no avail, it seemed he was checking Shangs arm out from her extremely limited vision. With a sigh she walked away, slower, heeding what he had said as she took careful and even more so calculated steps, taking the time to keep her balance as it swayed, swerved and swirled about in her vision. The tent wasn't coming into veiw as she had hoped it to, she sighed, bringing a heavy hand to rub a temple tiredly, if she were to be jumped by something, anything, let it be now when she was at her most vunerable. The air was cold, putrid odors traveled the gentle night breezes as she made her way back to the tent, entering, plopping on the ground to sit, then digging around the many bags, sifting, her vision began to blacken before coming back into veiw, shaking her head then whimpering as such a movement had prooved to be excrutiatingly painful. Resting her head in her hands, leaning against them to her elbows whilst shaking violently, any energy she had was ultimately disapearing within seconds. The time could have passed on for chimes, even bells, Ana had lost sense of time in a split moment as her conscienceness drifted away to the darkness. When her head had cleared a bit, she looked up slowly, eyes heavy, she could handle this, she found the latern, and other such necessities needed for it. Lighting it systematically she got up and began the journey back to Shroud, a different sway in her step, even her demeanor changed though it still seemed to act rather sickly. Each step she took was more confident, every stab of pain colliding upwards into her nerves empowered her; walking slowly, Motif held the lantern at the ready as she came up to Shrouds crouched figure, voice unamused, scratchy from the built up flem, she turned and coughed into a fist before trying to continue "this..this enough light?" She asked, squinting, bored, her voice turning monotone respectively to the situation. What she saw was enough to take her completely aback, a step, an arm raised up acting as if it were some sort of shield "the petch are you.." She asked scrunitively, what form of magic was he performing to have turned into.. a Zith. A freaking Zith without the wingage. There seemed to be a moment of silence, cocking her head to the side somewhat curiously though her face appeared otherwise "Shroud? Is this.. What I think it is.." Motif questioned quietly, voice, a scratchy whisper as she moved closer, obviously unafraid of him. The string puller was far more magically inclined, to notice magic based ideas rather than Ana who seemed to take the happenings with a grain of salt. The side that dug for power, knew power when it saw it; reached out for it even...Coveted to have it.

[Wrenmae]

Shroud turned sharply, snarling with new pointed teeth. He'd almost forgotten the little creature was still in the area. Now she'd seen his morphing, knew him for the mage he was...well...it wasn't like he hadn't already hypnotized her. But this could do with some damage control. He stepped away from Shadowfang, approaching her and snatching the lantern from her hands, putting it down near the Zith to study the veins and musculature of the wings. "You are not alarmed by this," He said to her, flexing a bit of extra Djed to layer his words in a calm sort of resonance. He pushed it through her mind, piercing her aura, forcing her fear to subside and a calm acceptance to build instead. "This business does not concern you. Now that you've brought me my light, you may go." He did not turn to see if she had, instead reaching into his body and pulling out the latent Djed still in his reservoir. His shoulders pulsed, and bones, spindly and bending, pushed from his shoulder blades and pierced his skin. For a moment they moved out like spindly legs, glistening in the lantern light. Shroud ran a finger over the stretched membrane, concentrating as he felt the thin skin seep out and follow the contours of what he was copying, bit by bit. He'd anticipated this all season so far, watching and studying the Zith. This was not his first encounter with the creatures, far from it. Ambushed by Zith in an alley, attacked by one outside Alvadas, and Musca...he'd had time to study their physiology. Their bones had to be light to allow flight and from that he borrowed Symenestrian biology. Their bones were light to allow them to adhere to the walls like spiders. The wings lengthened, flapped discordantly, never in tandem, flexing as the mage tried them out, adjusted them by tracing a hand along where the wings jutted from Shang's shoulders. Remarkable, truly remarkable. And soon he would have this form as well.

[Wrenmae]

Ana had left him, the absence she had offered in her place yawned comfortably around the mage. He was free to practice his morphing in peace, here among the twilight and uncaring stars. Let Leth look favorably or unfavorably upon him for what he did here tonight. With brief curiosity, his hands found shadowfang’s mouth, felt the edged row of teeth, the bones poking through skin and fur. He let his head fall, concentrating more on the membrane of the wings, making sure he had the shape and feel correct. The wings were the most difficult part of the transformation itself. The fur ws just an extension of hair, changing the feel and the color of it. T he tteth were easily enough donea s well, bone filing down to points so that his mouth was filled with lots of glittering daggers. Claws came naturally, one of the first cornerstones of offensive morphing and the lighter bones came with his Symenestra shape he’d acquired earlier. But these wings were new. They weren’t the type of wings that birds had, feathered and meant to catch and hold the air beneath them. These wings relied on an almost gliding familiarity with the wings. The membrabne was not lie feathers. It was alive, it was skin, criss crossed with nerves and blood vessels, a AZith’s wings was as part of their body as their own organs might be.

For a moment, Shroud considered the implications of tearing the wings off. What would a Zith do? Could it even survive that sort of loss? What would a flying creature do if it lost its wings? Once denied the power of the sky, what enchantment did th earth hold to one so innately free?

Shivering, Shroud left the thought at bay. Shang had done little to him that he didn’t get into scrapes with most days. In fact, it was the Zith that took the ost of the punishment. These wounds he’d left were warning enough of what sort of folly went into combating the wrong opponent.

Leaning down, satisfied with the shape he took, he yanked the daggers out of Shadowfang's body, the Zith writhing in agony just beneath a heavy wave of unconsciousness. He had delivered up his form, today, and for that he would live.

Wiping the daggers on his fur, Shroud sheathed them, his skin warping, fur receding, and wings melting back into his body as he pulled his shirt over his shoulders again. Ana was gone, and with her, his secret.

He would need to speak with her.

And soon.

Turning, he left Shadowfang there, bleeding, in the open ground outside the camp. Let him claim Shroud had done this to him.

No one would believe him...Zith were pest...after all.

[Archelon]

Thread Award "..." And the Results!!!!: Wrenmae : SkillName 1-5 How/why? Morphing 2 Hypnotism 1 Already discussed issues before, but you get one Intimidation 1 Unarmed Combat 2 Longknife 1 Dualwielding 1 Lores: Morphing : Zith Wings Morphing : Zith claws Morphing : Zith hair Morphing : Zith Full Body Model Shadowfang : SkillName 1-5 How/why? Intimidation 3 Persuasion 2 Running 3 Flying 2 Lores: Wrenmae is a morpher. Would you like some extra turtle sauce ? : Interesting thread Any questions,comments,or concerns please feel free to send me a nice pm.