The desert had its ways of making people succumb.

Ciraxis was a tired dragon. Sure, he was incredibly strong and such, but he was so fatigued that he had to walk. His body couldn't stand the heat, and his wings were tucked in tightly. He was walking at a pretty slow pace. His speed was equivalent of a human being jogging, and once he thought of that, he just got hungrier. There wasn't food in sight, let alone a town. He would love to ravage a town for a small snack. But why would there be a town in the middle of a desert with no water, or animals whatsoever?

As he crept on, his nostrils kept getting the odour of sulfur. An extremely unpleasant smell, Ciraxis let out an ear-piercing sneeze, and covered the front ground in mucous. As he looked at it, he disgusted himself. It was way different when he was half-dragon, where if he sneezed, it was just like a normal human being. Although, it would have an advantage if he were to face a random enemy. Cover them in mucous from sneezing, and then devour them. Heck, a mirage here would do.

Ciraxis peered around one more time, and 'lo, was there nothing but sand and sun. The ground was calling to him, requesting him to just lay down in the comfortable burning hot sun. Let him expire. In fact, Ciraxis could sort of hear the rocks talking.

Lie down, Ciraxis. You aren't going to make it! There is nothing near here for thousands of miles, doofus!

Ciraxis tried to growl at the sand, but all that came out was a weak groan. He sighed a dry, raspy sigh. All of a sudden, sleeping wasn't such a bad idea.

The sun continued to glare angrily at Ciraxis with all its might, as the dry, crisp air seemed to pierce Ciraxis underneath the scales. It was definately not a comfortable feeling, but Ciraxis had to stick with it. It wasn't his fault he tried to take a shortcut to Alulanta Falls! Just cross through the Anfauglir Desert to reach Alulanta Falls! Wonderful idea!

Not anymore.

As Ciraxis creeps slower and slower, his mind just decides to take a break. Perhaps, just perhaps, if he took a tiny little break, he will be rested enough to fly the rest of the distance. He crashed to the ground with a groan, closed his serpentine eyes, let out a small flicker of fire, and began to rest. He wasn't sure if it was a good idea, as he may suffer a heat stroke or something, but he was very tired. This was a risky move, but it would also prove to be a valiant, and possibly rewarding one. Who knows, maybe he will encounter a nice person who will help Ciraxis get through the desert. Ah yes, he could use a nice snack.

But seriously. Who would ever want to cross these places?

"My God!" Marcus said to himself as he flew over the barren wasteland, his stomach rolled and tumbled as his anxiety grew. Marcus’ silver, leathery wings beat against the stagnant air with an increasing vigor. He had just crossed into the land of dunes and brush known only as the Anfauglir Desert. His keen draconic eyes peered deep into the landscape searching for some indication of life. A plume of smoke burst from his nostrils as he huffed in silent acknowledgement that no such life existed. At least intelligent life, his bright eye could detect the occasional snake or harrier but no creature would lay to rest in his abysmal place.

The warm air beat against Marcus' wings with a sort of dry sting, the heat was slowly rising as the sun' met its peak. Looking into the distance yet again Marcus could see the rocky cliff and lush bushes start to disappear, engulfed by the sand. Marcus unconsciously beat his wings harder and at a greater angle to keep his body cool. His tongue flickered as he looked to the sun, noticing the peril of his situation he began to flex his scales. Light flickered off his body in a rainbow of tantric and alluring colors as he tumbled through the air, watching the current and approximating each dip of his wings within a half inch.

Marcus examined the ground and saw a great any creatures slithering under his shadow, enraged when it passed over them with a lightning like speed. Though his bulk would provide a haven to many creatures and in affect save many lives, Marcus faced the reality of his own death in his virtual hell. The great dragon reminding himself once more of the ancient teachings of his ancestors, Marcus began to flex his muscles and scales in rapid succession. Wind swept under his body to lull him into a cool splendor, with the rising of each scale. Marcus' body began to cool and in short instances caused him to shiver from the cold air that swept directly into his blood stream. This act would preserve him for a short time possibly allowing him to make it near the grasslands beyond the Anfauglir.

His muscles began to ease into a state of unnatural relaxation, he forced himself to stay clam and pleasant. Marcus began to gather energy reserves in his body, sucking in the air in short but slow bursts. His massive lungs rattled as they mucous within began to dry, leaving the great beast’s mouth parched and gritty. His forked tongue rolled from his mouth licking the salty arid air searching for some source of water. Suddenly he looked sharply south nearly sending the great dragon into a spiral. Water… he could smell it, searching the ground for patches of dark sand and small shadows. "There," Marcus shouted to himself as he inspected the scorching desert. A small patch of earth and sand was a darker brown than the rest; Marcus turned his wings sharply to the sky, forcing his great bulk downward toward the ground. He began to spiral down to the water source, like a bird of prey. Marcus crash landed on all fours sending a dust cloud into the air. As the dirt cleared Marcus wasted no time, raising a clawed paw he swept down on the dark brown dirt scooping the sand and tossing it to the four winds. He continued in this motion until he saw the water rise out of the silt.

Excitement consumed Marcus as he dipped his large head to drink from the dark gritty pool. The cool water slid down Marcus' throat, his eye's burst wide and his tongue began to moisten. His relief was cut short as he looked over the remainder of his journey, a large blackened mass lie in his path. Marcus' eyesight pierced the dry air and overlooked the crumbled mass, it was a dragon. Not twenty feet from Marcus.

Ciraxis's senses had fallen asleep as well. The desert was not a haven to anyone. This place was a barren land full of death and suffering. Ciraxis just couldn't move. He knew that once he went into a state of relaxation, he'd regret it. And so he does. He knew that nothing was near him. He knew that trying to take a shortcut was a bad idea. But what did he do? He didn't care. He decided to cross the Anfauglir Desert. And look where it got him.

Slow flaps or some kind of movement was heard from above. Ciraxis sighed, feeling it was a mirage. He was too tired to open his eyes. Besides, who would save one of the most evil races in all of Arda? Raku? Maybe. Ciraxis was hoping by a bit of luck that Raku was coming to assist Ciraxis. Ciraxis was to serve Raku, being of similiar distinction. The evil of evils, would be an honour among honours.

A wave of cool air had blasted Ciraxis's face, followed by a layer of sand. The sand brushed across Ciraxis's body and face, and he almost sneezed. That would of hurt. Instead, he just closed his eyes tighter temporarily, and then tiredly opened them, with all the effort he had. A figure of a four-legged beast with wings was seen, but it was just a shadow, or frame. The blinding light had singed his eyes, just like the smell of sulfur had singed his nose. He took the time to let his eyes adjust.

It was a dragon.

By the gods, was it seriously a dragon? It looked black! It was a black dragon? Or was the sun merely causing delusions? He sighed, and blinked his eyes a few times to rid of the tears caused by the sand in his eyes.

It wasn't a black dragon.

It was a different kind of dragon. A seemingly light one.

Ciraxis blinked again, and tried to get up. He was in a weak state, he would have no chance in a dogfight! He had to get away, as cowardly as it seemed! A living coward was better than a dead one.

But alas, he could not get up. He simply lacked the energy. The sun had drained all the energy away from him. He sighed, closed his eyes again, and calmed himself down, with a low-pitched growl following.

It seemed that Jaegar was thirsting for the unrelenting heat of his former home to venture in a place such as this. The Anfauglir Desert. In the living realm, this place had claimed the lives of many an unprepared traveler. The piercing sunlight, the lack of solid bodies of water, and the swelling heat were all deadly traits that made the landscape a graveyard to mortals. Jaegar, however, was different. He relished in this environment. The usually uncomfortable temperature brought a sensation of reassurance to his body as he trekked through the sandy hills of the desert. His tattered black cloak only increased the amount of heat that enveloped his every pour and boiled his blood to a peak of excitement. His face, like that of a rock, held his building emotions well. His emotionless personality, however, wouldn't be enough to quell the slowly building adrenaline that pumped into his bloodstream.

Hunting on this day wasn't so bad. He almost felt a bit of pity for whomever crossed his path during this moment of risen tension. The Caretaker didn't seem to keep his grip on Jaegar so tight when he was in the process of acquiring souls. It might've been some sick fancy of his to see Jaegar toy with his victims like he tended to do before ripping their essence from their lifeless bodies. Either way, this tactic proved well in the past and it suited Jaegar fine. It was in his demonic blood to enjoy violence, anyway. As his mind began to travel to different dimensions of past recollections, a presence suddenly snapped him back to reality. His face contorted as veins snaked their way towards his eyes and gathered there, pulsing hard against his impostor flesh. His fiery orange eyes gained an odd hue as he pinpointed an aura a couple hundred yards from him. An evil presence. And where there was an evil presence, there was a tainted spirit.

Target acquired.

He resisted the compelling urge to run his tongue over his teeth in anticipation. Soon now. If he simply kept up this continuous enslavement of dark souls, he would be free of the Caretaker's curse and would finally live under his own expectations. Though he never showed it, Jaegar grew increasingly tired of spending his days serving an unknown persona of the Underworld in which he was created. Enslaving such a high class Demon was an impressive feat but demeaning to the Demon being oppressed and enslaved. This troubling thought, with the added spur of the adrenaline rush, made Jaegar's senses simply jump at the chance of releasing all the pent of aggression he had been storing. His pace quickened almost threefold as he dashed in the direction of the presence. His ability to natural acquire the aura of an evil being was another trait forced into his body by the Caretaker. It was created in the hopes of making his task easier, but Jaegar saw it as more of a burden. He enjoyed the thought of slaughtering thousands in the hopes that maybe ten of the souls collected would be tainted instead of simply knowing they would be.

Another perk of having demonic blood. He had covered the distance in little time and stood at the top of a particular sand dune as he surveyed the beings before him. At the base of the hill and a little ways upward were two massive Dragons. One simply teemed with the disgusting presence of holiness while the other's tried to eclipse it in it's own darkness. This one, the black Dragon, would be Jaegar's victim for the day. He was tear his soul from his corpse and send it to the Caretaker in order to knock off another year of enslavement. He felt no remorse for the lives he snuffed out in order to gain his freedom and could thus do his job without any hindrances. Fortunately, it seemed that the perks of the region had taken it's toll on the two beasts. One was nearly comatose from exhaustion while the other was desperately slurping up filthy water from a puddle. The sight of it was laughable and outright pathetic.

Lifting an arm that pushed his cloak back to reveal the pale limb, Jaegar concentrated his energies to his extended palm. His taloned fingers twitched as an object forced itself out of his hand painfully. Ripping through his flesh and sliding into Jaegar's grip with comfortable ease was the weapon bestowed upon him by Raku himself. Espada, his personal longsword. It use to hold several powers of it's own that made it a devastating and feared tool, but the Caretaker stripped it of its former glory and left it as a shell of its old self. It was no matter. Even in its reduced shape, Espada was enough to take down one drained Dragon with the aid of his unnatural abilities. Letting his arm fall to his side as the tip of the blade caressed the surface of the sands, Jaegar surveyed his prey.

"I suggest you take this moment to pray to whatever God you serve. Your soul shall soon be forced into the Underworld. Prepare yourself."

Stupid desert... stupid heat... and now there was a dragon here to mess it all up... Ciraxis was sure. He was going to get eaten. Either this dragon would devour him, or the dragon will consider not to eat Ciraxis, and let Ciraxis die from exhaustion, and a possibility of a heat stroke. This wasn't good. He had to get up.

But, alas, he could not. He was too tired. His will was faded. He was scorching hot, and unable to move even a talon. His eyes were glued shut from the sand in them. His snout was as dry as the desert itself. Sure, he was the element of earth, but this was terrible. He couldn't move whatsoever!

He felt his will continually lower and lower, until Ciraxis just wished he would die and get it over with, and expire. Slowly, he strained himself to open his eyes one more time, possibly the last. Bright once again, and sand fell into his eyes. He did not care anymore. He eyed the dragon. It was holy. It seemed very likely it decided to hound Ciraxis to try and kill him when he was in a weak state. This was terrible.

"Get it over with...... kill me.... you dog...." Ciraxis said in a raspy, terribly distorted but understandable voice.

Ciraxis had no respect for the holy dragon. He did not know of what type it came from, and all he had to assume was that it was there to kill him. With his complete fatigue, he closed his mouth and eyes, providing relief. It was a terrible effort to do all that.

The sun's scorching heat had won. Ciraxis lay there on the fire-warm sand. He yawned once unconsciously, sighed, waited.

But he felt a presence...

Driven by the fact that he thought someone else was here, he managed to turn his head around slowly, opening his eyes again. It was ANOTHER figure. But it wasn't a dragon. That, or it was a dragon polymorphed. It said something. Pray to his god... prepare... for what? It seemed like a death threat.

WELL THIS JUST GREAT. Ciraxis yelled in his mind.

His anger for this humanoid had driven Ciraxis angry. The once 'dead' dragon, had now pushed himself up onto his legs, albeit very slowly. He turned to the humanoid figure, and yelled.

"LISTEN! I have had enough hardships traversing this land! Leave me be, or you may very well be the spark of energy I need to get out of here!" Ciraxis exclaimed. His voice was still raspy, but it was loud and clear.

Ciraxis let out a roar after that, that certainly did not sound raspy. He blew out a poison cloud, and growled at the humanoid. This may certainly be the incentive to get out of the desert.

Silver, hollow eyes whipped wildly over the fallen black dragon, as Marcus slowly drew closer. His long talons pierced the sandy ground with a harsh but gentle shove. Each footstep Marcus took drew him slightly deeper into the sand; the slit covered his feet, and engulfed the edge of his ankle. Like a great bloated raptor Marcus ruffled his scales, pushing them inward and outward rapidly. His body began to cool at a faster rate. He was nearly standing over the great black dragon when he realized they were not alone. Be it the creatures of the desert or something more sinister, his lady mother instructed him to be wary.

Nonchalantly Marcus looked down on the fallen drake with a sort of disgust, he was clearly evil by nature, something Marcus had traveled miles and years to defeat. His claws flinched with anticipation as the black clouds of thought licked over his naive mind. His body began to lighten and jolt with a newfound energy as the intoxicating endorphins ran up his spine."No this creature is helpless"the serene beauty of his birth and nature came surging back to Marcus. The great silver gems that rest in his sockets began to flare with understanding as Marcus drew his breath in quick rapid jolts. He was not certain what would come of this relationship but it was his responsibility as an Elder of their race to cradle and teach this creature.

Marcus thrust his legs deeper into the earth, raising his bloated structure to its full height. In the midst of this tainted creature Marcus drew himself into a proud stance. He overlooked the blackened mass as it raised its obsidian head in a sort of weary stupor. Slurred exhausted words came from the dragon’s mouth in accusation.

"Get it over with...... kill me.... you dog...."

Marcus studied the dragon closer; no ancient dragon would submit this easily. The silver drake's head drew back in disgust and anger. Without much thought passionate and fiery words burst form Marcus' mouth.

"Kill you? You great buffoon... I will admit the thought had crossed my mind." Marcus' forked tongue whipped out of his grit covered maw with a sort of wandering excitement. " Tainted beings should have been swept from this earth long ago....and yet we are one in the same. I am your elder and I ask you to treat me as such, I shall help you escape this hell of sand and heat. All I ask in return is your hand in the war that is to come.

Marcus jaw contorted into a hardened grin that would strike fear into the heart of any mortal as he whipped around with blinding speed. His massive body left a trail of dust and debris as he swept around to face his enemy. He wandering excitedly, Marcus was disheartened to find that he could not identify the source of this malevolent force. His leathery wings tucked behind his rumpled scales and horns began to tingle with fear. Worry crushed over Marcus' mind like a wave crashing on the shore, sending salty mist into the air filled with dread. With a blind and general roar Marcus bellowed a challenge to this force of immorality and injustice. His great silver wings spread in challenge as he snarled and bit at the dry air.

He worry subsided as the obsidian dragon to his right slowly, but certainly grew to his own full height and shouted a deep throated challenge of his own. Marcus resisted the urge to turn and applaud him when he heard slime covered and vile words slip from the horizon.

"I suggest you take this moment to pray to whatever God you serve. Your soul shall soon be forced into the Underworld. Prepare yourself."

A sense of wonder and urgency overwhelmed Marcus as he inspected every change of tone and vocal flux that burst from this unseen force. Marcus' silver head whipped over the land in concern as he realized he was not the target. His great silver claws and trunk -like legs spread in the sand, his muscles twitched and his tail swept gently over the ground. A single jolt of surprise ran over Marcus as he heard the horrid hardened retort come from his flank.

"LISTEN! I have had enough hardships traversing this land! Leave me be, or you may very well be the spark of energy I need to get out of here!"

Marcus' face turned upside down in concern for the creature as the reality of the black dragon's condition came into full view. Craning his neck toward his mother goddess, he relaxed his muscles; his face became placid and calm. Clarity flooded Marcus as he assessed the situation with a new found acumen. His insight into the matter would clear the baking sun from his mind and give him the strength to protect his kin.

A single brow perked up in quizzical surprise at the bested Dragon's attempt to threaten Jaegar. To have endured such conditions and still have the foolishness to waste such vital energy in the form of empty words? Truly this would be an easy kill. Sighing a bit at the sad realization that he would not find himself a challenge this day, Jaegar spun his wrist slowly as his longsword twirled against his palm. The blackened blade became a blur of circular motion like that of a buzz saw and it's sharpened edge was aimed at the black Dragon. Jaegar hadn't even considered the silver dragon next to him as a threat to either him or the mission seeing as he seemed to have interrupted a petty squabble between the two titans. He could only hope that the Dragon would jump in to defend it's prey in an attempt to spice up these easy pickings that Jaegar came across. Slowly but surely Jaegar made his way down the sand dune; his cloak billowing against his body and his sword spinning at unnatural speeds in his left hand.

Stopping for only a moment at the base of the gritty hill he had just traversed, Jaegar caught his sword in mid-swing and held it at the ready. If the Dragons had been watching him closely the entire time, they could have seen the ghost of a malicious smile that played on Jaegar's lips before it disappeared entirely, as if it had never been there in the first place. Dipping low, Jaegar made to rush at the black Dragon and dig his blade deep into it's neck until a familiar voice echoed across the golden valley.

"Good thing I followed you all the way to this damned desert. You've left yourself open one too many times, Jaegar." Called a confident and coy voice from a good distance behind him. His eyes widened for only a moment before he regained his composure and lifted his body to it's full height. He sat in this stance for a few breaths before turning swiftly and raising his sword. Just in time to blade the rusted edge of another. Skidding through the sand from the force of the strike, Jaegar swiped away the blade with little effort and jumped back a few feet from the pair of Dragons. His assailant landed quite a bit away from Jaegar and spun his sword idly in his hand before catching the blade and dropping into a battle stance. Jaegar, however, was not amused.

"Why do you insist on interrupting me, you filthy Atani?"

"Do I really need a reason? You left me at the peak of our last battle and I'm just looking to finish what I started." The person responded with a sarcastically friendly tone. As soon as the last syllable left their lips, however, they jumped towards Jaegar with great finesse. Covering the distance between them in one swoop, the unknown fighter brought down his blade once, twice, three time against Jaegar's sword whilst balancing in midair before pushing off and landing in front of Jaegar. He took the opportunity to slash downward at the figure, but the attack was easily dodged and retaliated with an upward slice of his own. Jaegar jumped back enough to let the tip tickle his nose as it flew by and then lunge forward with blinding speed. His opponent wasn't prepared for such a notion and caught a face-full of Jaegar's sword's hilt. Sprawling back from the attack and clutching his face, the adversary lifted his blade just in time to block a powerful downward swipe towards his chest.

"Nearly broke my nose, you little bastard!" The person shouted with a somewhat nasally tone before pushing off the ground and catching Jaegar in the chest with both of his feet. As Jaegar was knocked back and his opponent rose to his feet, blood dribbling down his face, Jaegar felt the sensation of his master calling him. Narrowing his eyes in disgust, Jaegar stood up straight and absorbed his sword back into his arm before turning away from the man.

"Hey! What's the big idea, there, gruesome!? We ain't finish brawling!"

"I'm being summoned and thus haven't the time to play around with the likes of you, Atani. Entertain yourself with these Dragons to satisfy your pitiful need for battle, if you will." Jaegar replied without even turning to look at him. A moment later, a large void opened up in the midst of the desert, spewing tendrils of dark energy that ensnared Jaegar and pulled him in before closing abruptly. Standing with a dumbfounded look on his face, the man straightened up himself and wiped the blood off his face with the side of his arm before looking at the two Dragons.

"You two look half past death. What the hell did he do to you?"

((I'll be playing as my ALT from now on. Hope that's alright.))

... what the hell just happened?!

Ciraxis was yelling to an individual far away. Just a simple-minded insult. It was harmless.

The next thing he knew, the guy warped right up to Ciraxis, and Ciraxis was dumbfounded! He had amazing speed, and could probably take down Ciraxis easily!

It made Ciraxis feel weak.

But nevertheless, his arse was saved when, out of the blue, a random person joined the conflict, and the assailant warped away in some kind of warp bubble. Arda was a strange place. With these gadgets and these warping things and these random people running at five billion miles a second.

So, a guy came up, they fought for about five seconds. Then the original assailant decided, 'aw, screw it', and ran off in a warp bubble like a coward.

What a shame.

So Ciraxis was dumbfounded when the other fighter casually asked the questions. He didn't want to answer. Ciraxis did not want to talk to this person. If he was of no help, he was not needed.

So Ciraxis growled.

Just a light growl. A little, 'Don't come closer' growl. The kind of growl a human would get overly nervous about.

"It was not him. It was my own decision. What do you want?" Ciraxis asked bluntly. He was clearly in no mood to talk.

Not one single bit.

A rare salt-tipped breeze blew across the Anfuaglir desert, a stream of worry crossed over Marcus. His silver sunken eyes covered the plains in large wide sweeps. He watched in a state of discontent as the Atani across the dunes fought for his life. He inspected the swirling mass of matter that sprung from the heavens to relief the creature. Marcus noticed the white glints of steel and armor flash in the setting sun, all this…he ignored. Bright hues of purple and orange slowly began to creep up over the horizon, the air began to slowly cool. Descending from boiling temperatures to the barely tolerable, the heat began to wax. Marcus allowed his scales to flux less frequently; his gleaming talons tingled with anticipation and a sleight of worry.

Scratching noises filled the air as Marcus’ scales began to converge into one large mass. His silver body looked like a small figurine carved of the most glorious metals on Arda, his skin hidden beneath his own natural armor rose and fell with his heart’s rhythm. His wings began to relax and slump to his muscular sides, a forked tongue flickered to and fro, licking the afternoon breeze. The sodium left a salty taste in Marcus mouth, a single thought wandered over his mind as the great dragon contemplated the strange sensations and tastes tumbling through his jaw. I do wonder….with the approaching chill of night, would it be wise to turn tail and head for the hills? I… we should leave this barren wasteland before the icy chill that plagues this land each night overwhelms us. Our wings will be thrashed with frost and icy pain as the sun’s warmth dwindles to rest over the skyline. Not to mention I will be overly weak with the coming gloom.

Marcus shifted his body, the sand wedged beneath his toes trickled down his obsidian claws making the breaks and cracks more apparent. An almost invisible lantern swayed from a golden chain around Marcus’ trunk-like neck. A warm yellow light pulsed from the golden frames; clear glass housed the day’s end for Marcus’ later need. Saffron streams of light surged slowly forward into the lantern as the day began to wax. This confrontation would be over soon, if not for more than the dire need to escape this slit bathed damnation. Marcus’ great head turned from side to side as he watched the flashes of steel subside and the man no more than an arm’s reach from Marcus speak chaos laced words.

“You two look half past death. What the hell did he do to you?"

A single word nearly escaped Marcus’ dry lips when he was cut off by the ebony colored dragon. Rage bathed words forced their way in a suspicious tone from the black dragon’s maw.

“It was not him. It was my own decision. What do you want?”

Marcus’ muscles stretched and contorted as he again changed his position; inching his bloated body toward the ground. Marcus imitated the Black Dragon with a low growl of his own. Marcus was skeptical of the warrior that stood before him. A cloud of evil rested over both of the beings to his right. A tinge of evil rested on both of their shoulders leaving a mark of strain. Marcus’ own light was shadowed by the aura of these creatures. A decision would have to be made quickly and whole-heartedly, Marcus would have to commit to any choice the trio made. Would his claws be stained with a solid crimson color? Or would the trio escape this eternal abyss only to part ways later?

Ignoring the stinging urge to fly away from the dwindling heat, Marcus spoke to the warrior-man before him with a kind of proud tone.

”This growing scent of darkness plagues my nostrils. I implore the both of you to set aside your issues and relieve yourselves….and me of the horrid wasteland. I see no reason for us to not set aside our qualms and escape this place.” A nearly inaudible conclusion slipped from Marcus mouth, ” Though I might escape only to find myself in greater danger…