Ursa: First Flight, Chyril 23rd, Early MT

[Niamh Windwalker]

The surrounding air buoyed the light, feathered frame and cushioned each outstretched wing as it beat downwards. The air rushed over and through each feather, the slightest tip of a wing changing her tack. I fly... A distracting jubilation rose within her breast, a sensation of freedom and rightness over-taking her. Finally complete....

Focus was difficult, but after a careening and rising flight, the new falcon circled, sharp eyes returning to the Peak below. Wings tilting as she curved back towards the site she had so recently vacated. Her eyes sought to pierce the gloom, allowing her to maintain some height while she sought for details of the Cryers... the enemy.

[Brytan]

The Peak was shrouded in the morning fog that rose nightly over the Howling Forest. It's sharp tendrils rising menacingly over what was left of the tree cover surrounding it. The climb up there had been grueling. The memory of voices in the shadows, in the crevices of the mound impressed upon Niamh's young mind.

Her new form came with new awareness, emotion and sense. She saw things differently, felt things differently. The Cryer's Peak below drawn as sharply in the mist as the quivering rabbit in the hole a bit off to the left in an open patch of land. The wind swept around it, howling between sharp spires of rock, tugging and cutting at her new wings and tail, making it hard to go too close.

Deep below her the sound of the Cryers was ominous and impressive. Sounds of voices, rustling in the leaves. Sounds of rushing cloth where none was there. Of ancient song and words not spoken in eons. The cries of the unknown threat echoing in tune with the wind rushing through the peaks.

This was their home...

And they knew they had visitors...

Below her, Niamh could see the shapes of the fantom Cryers hovering around her old hiding place. The gloom of dawn covered them as the sun had only just begun it's rise to power. They sensed her, smelled her, called to her.

We know you're there whelp...

Come to us...

We won't bite...much...

She felt eyes on her as she soared over the peak. A cold sensation clamming to her feathers and talons whenever she got too close to the mountain. The shadows themselves grabbing at her, beckoning her in. Yearning to take the freedom she had found, to tear it away faster than she had gained it.

They had fed, but yearned for more.

[Niamh Windwalker]

The cockiness and power in this newfound shape lent energy to her wingbeats and awareness to the minute and powerful shifts in the air and it's currents. She was too fast, too swift, too eager to prove herself to simply depart, with what little sensations she had gathered. The memory of voices - undeciphered, of sounds - unseen, of ancient song and words - haunting in their elusive tones... these beckoned her back, stirring up strange desires in her depths.

A whelp too quick for your dulled senses... the thought spurred confidently within her mind. She had borne too much teasing and taunting of various kinds for such a call to anger her, especially at such a lofty height, when she was the strong and powerful creature that had eluded her grasp. Flirting with the creatures below, she dropped a little lower, listening to their empty calls, creening a vocal cry of her own back to them. Fearlessness.. self-confidence, though never wholly far to begin with, these had returned suddenly and in full force as she had achieved the completeness of the Kanthrop kind.

They might not bite, but I would... Circling within as lazy a space as she could, she watched, listened, ruffling feathers and pinions whenever her closer swoops accumulated the odd clamminess of the oozing from the Cryer's conquered peak. It was not their home, they were the visitors, and she knew they were there... watching.

The creature within shuddered occasionally, but while Niamh trusted it's awareness of flight and the skill of instinctual movement, it settled in with her watchfulness, shaking her free with a rampaging flicker of determination if the young Kanthrop flirted a little too closely with danger. The strange pull within would not allow her to give up the freedom both had so dearly won, though the tantalizing whispers below continued their attempts at seduction.

As had happened previously, a small part of Niamh whispered and considered, confused that such things with their own kind of intellect, strove to sate their hunger in such a way.

What are these ghosts, that are too solid to be such?

[Brytan]

Dropping lower to the peak, she could see the shadows moving around the rock and dust that covered it's base. The whispering lingered in the fog of the dawn that was coming upon them soon, though time would learn it might not be soon enough. Gusts of wind wracked and howled between the ragged peaks, tugging at Niamh's inexperienced wings. While gazing down to watch the movement of the Cryers, a strong gust coming from a crack between two large rocks surprised the young kanthrop and dragged her down, nearly slamming her into a spike.

It grazed her instead, a sharp pain shooting through her tail, where the jagged edge had ruffled a few of her feathers.

The Cryers had noticed.

Within flickers they were upon her, sliding, slithering, rushing along the rock they called their home to the jagged edge Niamh had just met up close and personal. Tendrils of shadow formed around her, grabbing at her, one latching on to her left talon.

You will join the darkness...the nightmare of she who slept...

Cocky pest, prepare to die!

[Niamh Windwalker]

Confidence briefly stalled as her wings fought and tore against the current in rapid heavy strokes, diverting her from colliding full-breadth against the solid face of the Cryers' home. Momentarily stunned by a slight impact, the creatures... shadows... nightmares... oozed rapidly upon her, cloying pain accompanying their grasp before she could retreat to the heights.

Desperation paralyzed her for the briefest flicker, allowing them purchase on that single talon... but out of fear welled the instinctual charge for fight or flight. Unable to quickly escape, the Kanthrop's hackles raised, her beak keening an angry, furious screech for the flicker before she attacked in turn.

For something to have a physical hold on her, it must be tangible... and tangible creatures... or portions of creatures... could be damaged in turn: or so said the instinct that lent a ferocious fury to her barrage. Any tendril of shadow that sought a grasp found her deadly beak ravaging them, her free pinions striking and their long, deadly edges slicing and hacking.

Dreamweavers! The young Kanthrop, deadly serious for perhaps the first moment in her life, Aid me! Ursa! If these were creatures of nightmares realized in life, perhaps the power of the Kanthrop protectors might help free her of their grasp.

Her tail ached and throbbed, whatever slight injury she had received, worsening with the intense activity and motion, but the prickles of pain lent clarity to a mind that may otherwise have been overwhelmed by fear.

The dream... An image of that crystal, with the fizzling light charging forth to bind Kanthrop and falcon, flickered through her mind. If only such were possible here and now, that energy and light would have put these shadows to shame.

Nothing to fear in the dreams of a lazy sleeper... besides... a cocky pest such as I, must live to pester even... helpless... shadows... and nightmares... Niamh did not expect the creatures to hear her taunting responses, but such defiance, however silent, lent energy to adrenaline, each word punctuated by her pecking and slashing beak and her scissor-like pinions as they sought to catch and slice at what bound her from flight. Unaware of the significance of dawn, she was yet encouraged as the moist fog accumulated any stray glints of light, the darkness beginning it's slow fade from the depths of night.

Wings beat furiously within the clinging wisps of fog. She was prepared to live, and fight, and even die... but only on her own terms.

[Brytan]

Pecking and beating around her violently had a diversity of effects on the mass of Cryers which set upon her. First of which being they seemed to somhow de-materialise whenever she tried to strike at them. It was nigh impossible to hit any of them, as their forms turned incorporeal before she could hit, which had the added side effect that they couldn't hold her in place either, the tendril which had latched onto one of her claws quickly releasing under the beating of her wings and the pecking of her beak.

This didn't change the fact however that there were numerous Cryers around her. Her tenacity to stay alive and fight cleared a bit of room around Niamh for her to get up in and get a good look at this elusive enemy. They didn't seem to have any one form. It was more as if they all consisted of the shadow around them, eyes, claws and teeth protruding from various corners of darkness between the rock. In her head, Niamh could hear the chattering of a thousand voices, whispering, taunting, threatening.

We'll tear you up little bird...

Your blood will colour the rock on which you stand.

You will not fly for very long.

At the same time however, they didn't seem to quick on their approach, as if playing with their prey before striking. Much like a cat would do to a mouse.

Niamh sent a quick prayer to the spirits of her ancestors, the Dreamweavers. But that attempt was met with an equal amount of slagging comments from the Cryers.

The three can not help you whelp.

Kanthanar is dead, and so will you be.

It was your kind that awoke us.

They will not save you.

[Niamh Windwalker]

Adrenaline coursed through her limbs, and her beak and limbs did not stall the ferocious beatings she spread lavishly around her as she sought to inch her way both up and out from the rock. The Cryer's clung to their niche, clinging to the darkness, seeking to keep her away from the open air that was free from shadows. Hah! Niamh knew the danger of playing with that which one hunted, knowing that such cockiness could mean loss of the prey. Their response didn't faze her, for despite the pain in her tail, she was strong, and she was powerful, her wings beat fiercly and she cared little for their claims. And yet... perhaps prolonging their 'play' would give her the time she would need...

Liars! She knew now that they could somehow read her thoughts. We did nothing to you pitiful shades! As if coiling her energy within her, preparing for a charge to freedom, she conciously slowed down her attacks, flicker by flicker, increasing her vicious battle only if it seemed they sought to take her bait too soon.Kanthanar couldn't be dead! At the moment, she didn't pay attention to the name they spoke, knowing only that they seemed to delight in their devlish demeanings of her defiance.

Within the weavings of shadow and battle, it was difficult to see... but the sun.. the dawn... it should be creeping within the sky even now... she darted, and played a dangerous tune to the Cryer's frightening counterpoint, all the time edging as far away from the rocks and stone outcroppings as she could.

[Brytan]

The chaos of shadow and feather colliding seemingly lasted marks. Niamh's Inner Animal, the falcon who's form she had taken, was scared out of it's mind. It kept telling her to go up, fly away, take to the sky where it was safe. Pain from the collision with the rock dulled her senses and the menace of claws and teeth coming from everywhere was too much for her eyes to handle. Beating her wings furiously she managed to keep them somewhat at bay, moving further away from the Peak and into the barren patches of land around it where the remnants of once proud trees now stood, bent and broken under the impact of the isle.

And then, there it was...

The first glimmer of sunlight broke over the mountains of Skymyst in the east, casting it's rays on the top of the Peak. Quickly the wave of light started to move down, as the Cryers pursued Niamh to the cover of the trees. Whispers and cries halted as a large group of Cryers scattered to holes and crevices in the rock, leaving just a small group chasing Niamh to the tree line which was only several meters away. The lunged at her, clawed and tore at her, fierce in their determination to take her life before the light took theirs. As sunlight gulfed down the Cryers Peak, Niamh was out in the open now, with trees at her back and Cryers at her front.

Within flickers the light would reach the barren plain, but would she have that long to live?

Time to make a choice...

[Niamh Windwalker]

Beak and talon, she had fought free of the overwhelming mass of shadow, fleeing low across the ground as the ebb and flow of thickening darkness reached for her furious form. The air whooshed around her as she darted to and fro, her wings tiring slightly, made for the strength and height of air currents rather than an elongated combat in such close quarters.

Accepting the demands that were becoming her own, she stretched wings and talons farther and wider, dragging herself slowly upwards, away from the crevices and shadows in which the Cryer's might hide. There could be no sanctuary in the darkened gnolls of hump-backed trees and ditch-ridden hullocks of the tortured forest. It was only in the free, uncluttered air that she would find sanctuary. The inner creature within knew this, setting it's furied and frightened response against Niamh's former determination with such power that she found herself winging upwards with every opening the Cryer's allowed.

Her movement was tempered, however, her path also carrying her horizontally across land that gave the least accomodation to her pursuers. As they pursued in single-minded spite, Niamh sought to flee in such a way that they would find themselves revealed by the dawn, with no where to escape. Beak and talon could not slay the creatures that pursued... perhaps the peace of what appeared to be a gloriously vibrant sunrise might...

[Brytan]

The chasing Cryers became aware of the dawn rising up to meet them. Voices carried on the wind whispering in tongues made some of the eyes in the shadowy mass turn to seek out their mortal enemy, rising over the ridge and dropping down the peak with increasing speed as the sun rose higher over the Skymyst mountains. Regardless of that they kept lunging at Niamh, claws grabbing at her, attempting to wound, to kill.

It was difficult for Niamh to go up like this. She wasn't very adept at flying yet, and even though her Inner Animal was reacting instinctively, giving flight to her wings with it's own fear and skill she had a rough time staying off the ground or gaining lift while fending off the talons clawing at her. A sharp pain shot through her left wing as a claw pulled out a few feathers as it grazed her, she got knocked about a few times, the only thing keeping her going being her own persistance and the mind of her Inner Animal which reached for control of her limbs and took her to the air.

The trees rose up in front of her, she would not gain enough lift to break free of them in time, but time was on her side as the sun washed over the open plain and reached the tree line as she entered it, catching the largest group of Cryers in it's wake. Screams and terror ensued as they broke off pursuit in death or fear.

She was safe. She was free.

[Niamh Windwalker]

Niamh soared into the cascading light of the sun, the rays beating warmly upon her aching muscles, the soothing heat stretching past her feathers and settling on the bruised but exultant body.

Niamh circled once, briefly, once she had attained that glorious height, her sharp eyes strafing the ground as she sought an updraft of air to lift her high and carry her away. I have defeated you... The danger forgotten, the adventure left her tiny heart soaring, beating rapidly with adrenaline and it's different shape. Her falcon's beak opened, and she shrieked her triumph to the heavens.

Once she had glimpsed any sign of where the Cryers might have 'died' if there was any to be seen, the battle passed from thought as she marveled at wings and talon, feathers and beak. The spirit within her was still tremulous, encouraging her to continue onwards... to flee away... and while Niamh was not particularly frightened, she continued upwards, beating her wings until she found an appropriate current that would carry her onwards.

[Exeunt, just waiting for a description of Cryer remains (if any) and I think this thread is done, do you? Thanks for the great fun!]

[Brytan]

As Niamh soared up into the morning air, sunlight washing over the treetops and the shattered remains of what once was Gnilwoh forest, where now stood the Cryer's peak, the faint cry of shadow breaking could be heard whispering to her in the wind. Looking out over the ground below, she could see no residue of her assailants, their forms seemingly erased by the coming of the dawn.

Climbing higher and higher she felt the sun gaining in strength as a strong current leading west caught her. The village visible now from this altitude, her sharp eyes betraying movement down behind the sturdy walls.

Surely the others would rejoice at seeing Niamh again, having Awakened. Surely Oni and the other Kanthan would not treat her too harshly when she told them what she had been upto. Surely they would have a spare set of clothing?

OOC: I think that we can officially call this one quits.