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Step One; Fear. © Tsumi Moogle Rael © Tsumi Moogle Fenra imp idea based off Sefeiren's Fenra art-pieces. These are NOT a direct representation of her species, or art, and are in no way affiliated with her. The golden blade shimmered, it's razor-edge marred with a viscous black substance trickling from the tip. A droplet fell, and hit the plush ruby carpet, hissing viciously and smoking as it ate at the fibers, before settling. The room was silent. Perfectly, unendingly silent, save of course, for his own labored breathing. Panting, really. "...Rather more fight in them than I'd anticipated.." Rael muttered darkly to himself, slowly drawing his eyes from the blade whilst permitting it's tip to rest on the tiled floor. Trailing his view, he smirked mirthlessly, regarding the raw, burnt flesh of his left arm, seeming to slowly stitch itself with a creeping green thread.. On, to his stomach, before shaking his shaggy head to the sight of the blood trickling there claggily. Closing his eyes lightly, he grinned... * The Northern Lands of the Sa'alorian Imps were vast. Their rolling plains pristine and peoples for the better part, modest. The Skies, a perpetual gold for the Trio of suns that never permitted night's touch to grace the land. Stepping from fire onto a broad Mezzanine overlooking the grounds, He'd for a moment, closed his eyes. Opening them again to the heat of the suns, he lifted his gaze to the face of the star hanging at noon, and for a moment hissed with displeasure to trickling memories; bound, immobile, bared in that infernal prison. The icy lap of the water about his feet and hands, whilst the Sun's burning rays scorched him. Like an ant beneath a magnifying glass, he had felt it a thousand times over. At night, he would find no reprieve, as the Moon's glowing face brought the rising, icy tides. The waves rising, and engulfing him. The chill of the water biting at his body, and lungs, the sear of suffocation that went on, moment by moment, unbroken by something as menial as death. No. He would not be so lucky. Every morning would bare his shaking, wheezing form, to the first burning rays of the accursed sun once more...

Rael shook his head and spat. Turning his gaze from the sun and those honeyed lands, he pressed open a door, and slunk himself inside. The Sun Imps always did themselves well... The walls shone as of burnished bronze; intricately carved of Solar motifs, weaving flames that danced in the changing of the lights of the hung brassieres every dozen odd feet. Pearly white marble comprised the flooring, kept to an impeccable sheen, and covered along it's walk-ways in the finest, thick-woven carpeting. Scarlet, and hemmed with gold. Actual gold threading, with the odd tassel of ruby along corners. Such immaculate taste, so far drawn from the cold sandstone floors and halls of his own memory. A wry smirk tugged at his lips as he had walked, silent, but with evident purpose, body wholly bared with his rich, opaline aqua-green fur a stark contrast to the reds and oranges about him. His wings with their darker plumage sitting quite small, drawn against his back; colored to match his darker hair, short and wild save the single thick braid hung to the side of his face with a thick rune-carved ebon bead.

What need of clothes? What need of finery? His body was all the finery he needed. He needed no horns, gouged from the skull of a demon adorned with riches. No exotic pelts draped about his form to bare his trophies. His memories the only trophies he required. That, and Fear. Nothing cut an image like fear. A man sans his armor, earned and boasted for, would be mocked for his nekkidity. And when one was all the instrument of fear they needed; What need of clothing, indeed.

Rael's large ears flicked to the corner of a walkway. Two of them, just two. Of course, he had not expected a welcoming committee, and truth be told; a small part of him preferred it as such. Being unwelcome in another's home, the fewer between him and his goal, the smoother it would go. Had he the capability, the Imp perhaps would have been thankful for the visits of his childhood, at the hem of his father's cloak to those 'diplomatic' encounters of old. The building's scope, it's layout; It was all there, bound in his memory. Entering undetected was a sport by now. And one he excelled at.

The guards were positioned before doors of solid gold. Their fur a rippling field of wheat in summer.. A hundred glorious colors of fondest yellows and budding oranges. Adorned as the castle, the armour they wore was burnished, simple, plated. Draperies of Scarlet and hemmed with gold, hanging with the emblem of the family they protected lay as loincloths. Spears of white, or was it silver, crossed by the prongs between them. They would have cut an impressive figure each, if they had not needed the finery. Or the armor. Grinning, Rael's footsteps had continued, and the sound of tensing hands met him as he raised his golden eyes to the twin pair of Ambers before him. Some portion of them recognized him. But their minds faltered for a name. As did any Imp.

"You!" One managed to gasp out, stepping forward imposingly. "Me." He had rasped, inclining his head, as if taking the welcome to heart. "I should have you stand aside.. Your king and I.. Have words to exchange." There was an unmistakable, savage delight to his tone and his face. "Our king has no needs for any of your words, Nor our lands any need of your place In them. Leave, Traitor." Spoke the Guard on the right as he stepped forward to flank his fellow guard. Traitor. Traitor, he had said. What a filthy, filthy word. An undeserved word. What all did that bug know of Betrayal? The wrinkle that had so swiftly crossed his muzzle, smoothed almost instantly, and inclining his head, Rael spoke.

"On the contrary. Both have a very great need of my words, and my place. You two, however.." He trailed off delicately. "Drop!" The word was a command, a sharp and harsh tongue spat, as one of the many sigils aligning his concentric-ringed eye gleamed. The guard on the right dropped his spear, as though it had burnt him. Stepping through his fire in the blink of an eye, he had grabbed the guard, from behind by the ears and pulled him straight as he kicked him to his knees. Like a shield, held between himself, and the guards own friend. Instantly those hands had gripped at his wrist, trying to wrench it free, before stilling, as Rael grasped the ebon claws of his free hand at the creature's throat.

The other guard had turned instantly, spear leveled with his friend's chest, behind which he knew that wretched imp hid. "Coward..! Release him! Release him and leave!" The guard spoke sharply on behalf of his friend at Rael's mercy as he caught the wicked grin of the young seeming Fenra. "Coward?" Rael asked curiously, smirking. "Not at all. I intend to teach him about betrayal. This is the best position for it." "Betrayal..?" The guard knelt before him choked, feeling the pricks of those wretched claws carelessly rested at his throat. Rael flexed them, almost subconsciously. "Indeed. Your friend there... is going to stab you." Rael whispered gently, smiling as he looked past the Sun-imp, to his friend, standing horrified, disgusted.

"I will do no such thing!" He snarled, the pearly spear to hand shaking, as if itching to lunge for the green imp, impale him, hang him from the steps of the palace.. "No..? Then you betray your friend, by permitting me to kill him instead." Rael chuckled a cold, and very amused tone. "Should you be the one to kill him, though, perhaps you will stab me as well, and in honor of your friend's death, save your dear King his meeting with me." He had mocked. The Guard in his grasp had gasped, fear held his ability to breath, and permitted it only in ragged, terrified pants. "Illish..!" He had pleaded, eyes begging, head twitching to shake and ward his friend off.

"Forgive me, Ala'kash..!" The other guard had choked out, before hardening his face.

It had been almost too easy to spot the timing; the flexing hand, the foot sliding into position. Illish had shut his eyes, to not witness his act, and lunged forward with fury in his heart. He had missed, of course, the wash of flame that enveloped the Fenra-imp, snagging him most mockingly from harm's way. The crash of the armor against the metallic wall had rung. A terrible claxon tone, along with the heaving wretch as Ala'kash was impaled. Shaking, Illish had opened his eyes, and stared with horror at his friend's eyes, wide, locked on his face, before they hung slowly, and his whole body shuddered, and sagged. His eyes then widened as they looked to the outline of his friend against the wall. The Fenra was gone.

"Traitor." Rael had whispered teasingly. Delighting the feel of the word on his tongue, in Illish's ear from behind. Turning, The guards' face had contorted with seething rage. His eyes burned like small suns as he took in the wretched imp, and drew a short blade from his side, Pearly, like the spear, it had raised as rage directed his motion to smite. "Shatter." Came the Fenra's next sharp fel-word. Another rune glowing bright in his eyes, before he Brutally slammed a hand with a sickening crunch, into the chest of the guard. His armor splintered like glass; raining over the floor at his feet, as he stood frozen in place. Shock. Always a moment of shock. Pulling his hand back, coated in and trickling with the rich honey colored blood that no longer coursed the Sun-imp's body, Rael smirked, watching the guard's eyes roll back into his head as he collapsed backwards in a heap.

Turning from the pair and drawing his tongue with a languid relish along his hand, the imp approached the golden door, and with a simple one-two tap of a claw upon it, he stepped himself in; neatly shutting the door behind himself, to regard the pair upon the throne. "Dear Lord Id'ishak.. And his lady fair, Annak'esh.. It has been... Far too long." Rael whispered, with the slightest of bows. "You-!" Spoke Id'ishak with disgust evident on his face. He rose from his throne, swathed in threads of gold spun so supple they flowed as liquid. "Me." Nodded the Fenra as he held himself in place, an inch or so from the ground with his tail snaking behind him, his golden eyes gleaming maliciously as he stared up to the Lord. A grin cracked his pointed features as he recalled his first memories of the figure. Following on the hem of his father's Ebon cloak, they had met. Id'ishak Koresh'nakal. 'Sun's fiery heart' in his native tongue. The grandeur, the splendor of his garb, the glitter of the Amber and topaz spun into the thrice-pronged crown that framed his face and trailed along the backs of his shoulder. His Fiery hair burst back like a flaring mane... In unbidden honesty, he was impressed. As foolishly as a youth often was before splendor.

"I should pray that I am not intruding," Rael whispered menacingly, changing his position to act as though he were seated. He was not intent on moving. "But then, it doesn't seem as though you are too busy in the meanwhile." "Why have you come here, Fallen Child?" Growled the Sun-Imp, his ringed eyes, so unlike his subordinates, gleaming. Rael slowly uncrossed his arms and lifted a little higher from his seated position in the air. "Why indeed? Some might say I am here on a whim... Others might say I am here for fun... I prefer to think of my reason as.. Negotiation." "Negotiation..." Repeated Id'ishak, drawing from the depths of his molten robe a sword of glittering gold and etched of silver in the shape of a sun. It sang as it was drawn from its scabbard and directed at the Fenra Imp. "The only notion of Negotiation you or your father deal in, is destruction, Ik'alar."

For a moment, Rael's face contorted. Rage. Unbridled, unfathomable, searing rage twisted his features, before he closed his eyes and smoothed his face into a silky grin, opening his eyes with a silent blood-lust in his gaze. "I am flattered... that you remember, Id'ishak. You can rest easy with the knowledge that I am only here to destroy him." He whispered smoothly, lashing his tail. The Sun-Imp's face creased with confusion. "Him?" "Him. You are, however... A stepping stone towards him. I was going to make this swift for you, but no-one. No-one calls me that name." Rael spat. "I forgot, you go by another name, these days. Kel'ekish. I will be pleased to reintroduce you to your father. Or your head, at least!" The King had roared, as his hair burst into flame. The blade in his hand screamed like a soul tortured in flame as he charged...

*

Kel'ekish. Filthy; Most Unclean; Unwanted. The term branded to traitors. It made his fangs bare to the sound of it. The Fenra's eyes opened from their reminiscing to regard his arm again; re-stitched, healed. It tingled, of course, as newly spun flesh often did. His touch lowered to his stomach to regard the sealing wound and made him wince. It smoked, as the cauterized flesh unwound itself before it could heal. Rael turned his gaze to the sword; weighted and warm in his grasp. With a single flick, he displaced his own blood from its perfect blade and smirked to the sing of it against the air. 'Ere'sh Id'shanesh' The King had called it. 'Hymn of the Morning Rays.' A family treasure, no doubt. Using it to lightly help him to his feet, the Fenra regarded the Throne-room; the splendor of it marred and broken, the wide floors cracked and lanced with smoking black and gleaming orange. The bronze-faces of the wall-panels dented and melted, slashed and crumpled. Grinning, the Imp turned and stepped over the still body of the former king to stare up to the back-wall-spanning mural of cloth. The rippling fabric in its gold and scarlet, unblemished. The mark of the Sun-Imps proud before the desecration of its grandest hall. Wrinkling his muzzle, Rael spat a simple, marring mouthful of blood over its face, before grasping a great handful and tearing it clean from the wall.

Tuning, his eyes passed over the staring gaze of the king to the body of the queen, smoldering in a corner. Stepping forward to point the tip of his new blade against the throat of the king, Rael grinned mirthlessly as he whispered to the fallen Id'ishak, "A fine gift, your head will make. A fine gift, and a better warning." He growled softly before the blade sank.

Lifting his prize, the Imp stabbed his blade into the marbled floor, to dip a thumb-claw into the slowly-patching wound of his stomach. Easing it free, he trailed a mark across the forehead of the silent king. 'Love.' A mocking, flamboyantly curved sigil that smoked as Rael bound the head in the thick tattered cloth of the Sun-Imp's crest. Narrowing his eyes, he regarded the package, and with a single rune glowing in his eye, he hissed 'Away!' Engulfing the 'gift' in emerald flame to grant it to its recipient. Rael turned for the door and paused a moment as he found them opening. A single Sun-imp stepped through, short and sleek of shape. But for the lack of crown adorning his head, he was his father to every gold-furred feature.

The young prince froze, his thrice-ringed eyes widening in horror for the state of the throne room. They found the blood-caked form of a Fenra standing over the body of his father, the sight of what remained of his mother. He collapsed back against the heavy bronze door. "Heir prince Adal'esh... Or should I say; King Adal'esh. By your leave." Rael smirked, bowing low to the fear riddled prince, before with an arcing turn he vanished in a burst of emerald flame with a ringing, echoing, mocking call of laughter.