It has been many years since Famine had been to his original birth place. He had missed terrorising the travelers at the hot sands of Anfauglir Desert. The desert had been touched by death. Nothing grows.
Travelers beware Famine thought to himself with a grin. His evil smile could not be seen, because of the clothing that covered him from head to toe. He wore these in order to survive the unpredictable sand storms.
Famine spotted a caravan. Obviously some merchants who knew nothing of traveling through the desert.
"It's time to die....." He said to himself as he charged at the caravan. They couldn't spot him, because his clothing matched the color of the terrain that was all around him.

Famine:
As you charge towards the caravan, a few of the people that had been aboard hopped off. The walked around for a very short period of time before they spot you. They see you coming towards them and begin to scream. The sight of you is a nightmare to behold, and they flee in terror. Those that were still in the wagons peer out fearfully and catch sight of you and attempt to barracade themselves inside.

"HA! Running?" Famine laughed at the sight. Does the human race have no courage anymore? He was a single demon, and they were many. These humans were obviously idiodic. Famine charged at them with his spear, killing those who attempted to draw arms against him. Famine fed off of their fear. It ammused him that humans died so easily. Fragile creatures indeed.
Famine's cloak followed all of his movements, making him look like a banshee to their eyes. His speer's blade reflected the light off of the blazing sun. The merchants squinted their eyes from being blinded from the light.

Churchill Angel felt a dark presence along the hot desert, and found herself there, overlooking the fiery sand and feeling the scortching sun upon her back. The cloked figure just ahead brought a chill to her in the immence heat. When she caught sight of the upraised blade, Churchill clutched her staff and deftly twirled it, rush of angry air aimed at the site. She figured it was the motherly and over protective side of her personality taking over, but nonetheless, the overwhelming urge to protect these sinning humans was all-consuming.

"Step away from them, stranger, and leave this place," she called out to the cloak, billowing in the fury of her wind.

"Who are you to tell me what to do? They trespassed upon my land, and shall pay dearly for it!" Famine said to the stranger. He pointed his spear at the lady. She was obviously a mage in some rank in that kind of clothing, maybe even a god. But Famine did not care.
"If these mortals wished to live, then they would try and fight back. But they only hide and seek shelter for their own lives." He added. He thrusted his spear at another human, killing it. He then returned his attention to the woman.

Churchill's eyes stung with unshead tears at the sight of another man's death, and her staff came back to the ground lightly, but still hard enough to send a small tremor through the ground. She knew the robes housing the masculine voice was correct. But Churchill was still protective of the worthless humans.

"Who I am is not of importance at this time," she said in a voice demanding respect, "But who you are is. You say these lands are yours. I have never felt this presence of yours here before, at least not during my reign. Whatever your purpose here is, it surely can not be to needlessly kill travelers, regardless their shameworthy courage. Who are you, Stranger?" Churchill asked taking a step closer to the masculine being.

Lothlómendil sat in her temple, thinking of many things that were to come. The war was foremost in her mind, always brooding like a dark cloud. Deep within her thoughts, something managed to break her concentration. She opened her eyes and stilled herself to listen. A noise came, and she focused on it. It was weak, but still loud enough to detect. Concentrating, it became clear to her that is was a voice. It was a desperate prayer, calling to her from a distance. She listened to it, and filled with rage. Standing, she threw on her cloak, fastened it with her brooch, and grabbed her deadly sword. She must get to the desert.

Like a ghost from times past, she faded in slowly. She walked steadily towards the caravan as the winds lifted and whipped her hair around her. Her eyes were aglow with the color of gold, and there was fury burning in them. Her wrath would be devastating on this day.

Famine saw another woman approach. He felt the wind pick up, and his eyes slowly widened, as if he had just seen Death. He knew that feeling sudden gusts of wind is not a good thing in the desert, though it appeared that the other two women did not. Famine turned around and noticed a huge hurricane of sand heading towards them, and instinctively said.
"Get down!" He said this while he hid behind his cloak.
He dove onto the ground and planted the end of his spear into the sand, so he would have something to grab on, so he wouldn't be blown away in the sand storm.

She continued to walk to the Stranger in anger, noticing the anger in the wind and thinking it her own. Thats when the creature yelled, "Get down!"

She looked at the creature crouched on the ground and holding on to his spear in wonder, its anger quieted. This being was quite amazing, killing humans one moment, angry the next, then turning around and ordering her around. She wanted to know why he would do such a thing. Why he thought he could do such a thing. Perhaps this was the feeling that overcame the stanger when she demanded he leave.

Churchill shruged slightly and stretched her wings out, taking another step. They were a bit cramped, having hidden them behind her self for such a long while, but she couldnt exactly keep them out all the time. They wern't usefull for much else other than hovering above the ground yet, anyway. She understood the thing on an intelectual level silently, but ignored his demand, anger taking place once more. He still had no right to return the energy from their bodies to her before they needed to be. She decided she would bury the men and force the others to leave while the Stranger was acting so...well...strange, and deal with it later.

"Why do you not take cover?" Famine shouted at the lady as the hurricane of sand engulfed the site of the caravan. The wind was so strong that it blew some of the dead humans off of the ground, sending them twirling through the air.
This sand storm won't last long. Just a mere gust of wind. He thought to himself as the sand storm died down. Famine was buried in two feet of hot sand. If he hadn't been covered by a cloak, the sand would have surely burnt his skin.
The demon dug himself out of the ground.
"Is anyone still alive? He shouted into the desert, hoping for no replies.

Churchill felt the fiery sand throw itself on her. She heard it ask her why she did not take cover, and she realized that it was a sandstorm upon them, and not just another gust of wind, voicing her anger. What power is this? she wondered, as the hot sands swirled around her. She decided then to take the Stranger's advice, but did not get the chance to act upon it as she caught in her arms the body of one man, dead.

She went numb, but felt a tear slide down her cheek dry with the heat as she crumbled to the ground. Death was not a thing she saw and felt with her own hands very often. It positively brought her to tears. It was all in the circle of life and the like, but she was not fond of anything lifeless. Churchill angrily swept her staff over the dead body and watched as it turned to ash and scattered with the last final gust. It was then that she realized two things: She was buried in two feet of sand, and there was a woman there. The woman that caused this storm.

Ignoring the hot sand that began to lash at her, Lothlómendil rushed to the caravans. Some had not been able to hold out until she arrived, and one lay there with a spear in him. She pulled out the spear and placed her hands upon him palms down. She could feel the terrible storm all around her, yet it could not touch her. A light began to glow from where she touched the man, and she felt his soul being drawn back to his body.

She continued healing those that she could until the storm died out. As the last of the sands died down, she turned to search for the one responsible for this atrocity.

Famine was standing where a caravan used to be. He saw that the two women were still there.
"You two are very persistant in annoying me." He said angrily. One of the two women was trying to heal the dead.
"It isn't worth trying. Those humans are too pathetic to waste your time on. And now, I shall take my leave. The ruins of this caravan shall be a warning to all who try to trespass again. He said as he slowly walked away.

"So, you were the cause of this destruction? I don't think that you will be going anywhere just yet." said Lómen threateningly. No one spoke to her dismissively, and called her creations pathetic.

Famine stopped walking.
"And who do you think you are by telling me what to do, woman?" Famine said to her.
"You have been lucky I have spared your life, so don't push you luck." He said and continued walking.

Lothlómendil laughed aloud. "You spared my life?" She laughed again. "Boy, you know not to whom you speak. You should be glad that your own life is spared. I know who you are, Famine. I was there when your foul lineage came into being, and I will be there when you, the last of your line, reach the doors of the Hall of the Dead. Remember that when you stand before me in judgement."

"HAH! It will be many years before I find myself at the Halls of the Dead. Trust me when I say many will come before I, many." Famine stated to the Goddess of Life. He then returned his attention to the other woman.
"And what is your purpose in this desert? He asked.

Churchill saw the beautiful elf woman trying to heal one of the dead humans, and felt a strong liking to her. She was about to speak up, but the Creature yelled at them and began to run off. Coward Churchill thought, angrily. Thats when the woman spoke up, voicing her opinion. She agreed with the One that claimed to be older than time itself, and the Judge of the Dead. When the Stranger turned his attention to her, Churchill's ears turned pink.

"I felt your dark aura upon these desolote lands and felt compelled to...check on things. Now give me the answers I seek. You claimed these lands here were yours. During my reign, you have not set foot upon these sands, yet you are protective over them to the point of needless killings and I demand to know why. It angers me you have decided to soil this place with the blood of the travelers."

Churchill's wing twitched in anger...

"Than you must not have had a long 'reign'. These lands belonged to my ancestors, so I am hear to claim what is rightfully mine." Famine stated to the woman.
"If you have a problem with my behavior, than thats your problem. He said to the both of them, and once again, started to walk away from the caravan slaughter site.

"Foolish rauko, her reign has been since Arda was created. You most certanly came after she. Raukos came about from a dark Maia that was a follower of the God of Darkness, Raku." Surely this demon knew where he came from?

"I don't know why anyone would worship a god. I wouldn't consider that Maia an ancestor of mine. Whoever it was, the Maia was weak and pathetic." Famine said to the woman. He realized that she had to be a god to have obtained information like that. The rauko was in the presence of two gods, which was more odd than suprising to Famine.
"Are you asking for a fight?!?!" Famine shouted.

Lothlómendil laughed again at the demon. "Surely you jest at challenging me? I state again that you know not to whom you speak." She shook her head and thought to herself, They are so foolish...

"You misunderstood what I said. I asked you if you wanted to fight, not, you fight me." Famine said.
"If I do not know who you are, then tell me." He added as he glared at her.

"I look not for fights. I am Lothlómendil, the Goddess of Life." This is all she had to say to him, for she grew tired of this silly converstaion.

["I don't care. When I say I fear no one, I mean it, woman!" Famine said grinning. He looked at the goddess. She didn't wear any armor, or weild any weapon. She must have great magic powers. But then again, I guess thats why she is a god Famine thought to himself. He made a loud whistle. Ten seconds later a warg ran past the two women, and stopped beside Famine. The demon mounted on the beast and started to leave.
"Catch me if you can!" Famine shouted back. He didn't know if the goddess' would chase after him, but he'd run anyway.

Lothlómendil felt that being called "woman" in that manner was derogatory, and she had had enough of this mouthy Rauko. As he left mounted upon his warg, she did not chase after. She could find him whenever she wanted, wherever he went.

Churchill grinned as the woman-like elf, Goddess of Life told off the robe with a lot of bark, but barely any bite. She was angry at the cowardice of the Stranger, but payed little mind to it, as she was far too amused by the Great Goddess before her. How they had never met was a shock, but her awe of the Goddess was pushing that out of her mind as well.

Churchill felt the warg stampede across the hot sands as if it were charging across her leg, and a chill ran through her. She shuddered and a tremor ran through the lands, causing the sands to ripple. Churchill silently wondered what the warg weilding Stranger of Darkness thought of the mini-earthquake in the desert.

Instead, she turned to the Life Goddess and asked, "How is it that

NEEDS TO BE EDITED

((ooc: Would you like me to find a person to RP with us here, or would you? I think Fam likes to be chased after...)

as famine rode through the desert on his horse, the sun was blazing down hotter than hell its self... he soon came upon some one.... or some thing. He rode over to it and saw, it was his comrad. he had found famine. but would famine rember him??