Ashan 1st.
It had been many Trials since Mal had gotten to know the curious tribe of Ankila. Now that Cylus’ twilight had fallen away, the snow was beginning to melt. Already it was growing warmer, and signs of life were popping up through the lands. He’d flown several Breaks to the west in search of game, a sparsely forested hill teeming with prey he could see with the eyesight of his winged raptor form. A hawk, he soared high above, looking out over the horizon from time to time, then back down below to the small creatures catching his attention--rodents, mostly. Prime hunting grounds for predators. A small fox with a glittery tail blinded him as it pounced a rabbit he was watching, so he dove after it. Hurtling through the air at blinding speeds, Mal could hear the wind rippling by him as his speed increased, talons outstretched as the earth rose up to meet him.
It was all instinct by now, his Mastery over Becoming yielding a certain understanding of how creatures worked. By consequence, flying was easier. It didn’t take too much thought, and as his form crashed into the nape of that fox, it yipped in pain from the talons digging into its neck. Then it writhed, and Mal’s body fell against the earth, splayed feathers flapping as he dug his talons in and bent down to dig his sharp beak into the prey’s neck. The creature spilled all its crimson like a gushing river once Mal hit that vital neck vein most creatures seemed to possess. It stopped struggling slowly, the strangely bright fur of the creature matted with red.
Letting go and hopping onto the earth, the avian Becomer peered around before getting back on and sinking his talons into the beasts rib cage. Then he started flapping his wings, hard, echoing that incredible stamina the Obsidian Panther yielded for every breath. Slowly as the wind tousled the dirt and grass around, the fallen prey began to rise into the air, and momentum carried him higher and higher with every labored flap into the sky. Maintaining altitude was much easier once he got to the tree tops. His wings ached with soreness by the time he arrived at the Ankila cave where Sky would be.
Dropping the prey at the mouth of the cave from the air, he circled around once before diving down and landing, his form warping and shifting over a bit as he called upon the totem of a Lotharro within himself. The bird’s body warped and shifted, pain a concept that Mal barely felt anymore, or simply didn’t care about after such frequent exposure. It took only a bit for the body to elongate and become tall, a nude giant of a man standing before the camp. 6’ 8” tall with packed muscle, the burly Lotharro a form Mal had acquired seasons ago, a form that reminded him of how far Vuhl’mathi could go in manipulating him. Distance was the answer to his dilemma thus far.
“Food,” he hollered in a bestial voice out into the woods, head turning and carrying the sound. The meal of the fox was enough for three or four, maybe even additionally a pack of pups.
Savages, the Ankila seemed to care little for modesty, but being naked did not bother Mal at all. Bending down, he took the tail of the Glimmerfox and ripped it clean off with little effort, setting the corpse down at the cave entrance where red stained the dirt from several such prior occurrences. He liked how the prey blinded him when the sun hit it, walking inside and beyond to dedicate the raw, dripping totem to himself by pulling ether to it. Finally he sat down against the cave wall with his legs crossed, the furry appendage over a knee, focusing his mind upon it to create a familiarity. Doing so would open the door to Becoming such.
It had been many Trials since Mal had gotten to know the curious tribe of Ankila. Now that Cylus’ twilight had fallen away, the snow was beginning to melt. Already it was growing warmer, and signs of life were popping up through the lands. He’d flown several Breaks to the west in search of game, a sparsely forested hill teeming with prey he could see with the eyesight of his winged raptor form. A hawk, he soared high above, looking out over the horizon from time to time, then back down below to the small creatures catching his attention--rodents, mostly. Prime hunting grounds for predators. A small fox with a glittery tail blinded him as it pounced a rabbit he was watching, so he dove after it. Hurtling through the air at blinding speeds, Mal could hear the wind rippling by him as his speed increased, talons outstretched as the earth rose up to meet him.
It was all instinct by now, his Mastery over Becoming yielding a certain understanding of how creatures worked. By consequence, flying was easier. It didn’t take too much thought, and as his form crashed into the nape of that fox, it yipped in pain from the talons digging into its neck. Then it writhed, and Mal’s body fell against the earth, splayed feathers flapping as he dug his talons in and bent down to dig his sharp beak into the prey’s neck. The creature spilled all its crimson like a gushing river once Mal hit that vital neck vein most creatures seemed to possess. It stopped struggling slowly, the strangely bright fur of the creature matted with red.
Letting go and hopping onto the earth, the avian Becomer peered around before getting back on and sinking his talons into the beasts rib cage. Then he started flapping his wings, hard, echoing that incredible stamina the Obsidian Panther yielded for every breath. Slowly as the wind tousled the dirt and grass around, the fallen prey began to rise into the air, and momentum carried him higher and higher with every labored flap into the sky. Maintaining altitude was much easier once he got to the tree tops. His wings ached with soreness by the time he arrived at the Ankila cave where Sky would be.
Dropping the prey at the mouth of the cave from the air, he circled around once before diving down and landing, his form warping and shifting over a bit as he called upon the totem of a Lotharro within himself. The bird’s body warped and shifted, pain a concept that Mal barely felt anymore, or simply didn’t care about after such frequent exposure. It took only a bit for the body to elongate and become tall, a nude giant of a man standing before the camp. 6’ 8” tall with packed muscle, the burly Lotharro a form Mal had acquired seasons ago, a form that reminded him of how far Vuhl’mathi could go in manipulating him. Distance was the answer to his dilemma thus far.
“Food,” he hollered in a bestial voice out into the woods, head turning and carrying the sound. The meal of the fox was enough for three or four, maybe even additionally a pack of pups.
Savages, the Ankila seemed to care little for modesty, but being naked did not bother Mal at all. Bending down, he took the tail of the Glimmerfox and ripped it clean off with little effort, setting the corpse down at the cave entrance where red stained the dirt from several such prior occurrences. He liked how the prey blinded him when the sun hit it, walking inside and beyond to dedicate the raw, dripping totem to himself by pulling ether to it. Finally he sat down against the cave wall with his legs crossed, the furry appendage over a knee, focusing his mind upon it to create a familiarity. Doing so would open the door to Becoming such.

