Divine Protection - Abyssal creatures of [Silver] or above are restricted.

Protection will weaken in

27 Days : 4 Hours : 01 Minutes : 08 Seconds

“I should name you. I can’t be thinking of you as the ‘little me’ all the time, not if you’re going to have your own thoughts.” The sealed portion of my mind that existed to translate the Pale Beyond for me had always been…

Personable. Only now it seemed to be gaining a sense of self a well.

I've always liked birds.

The remark surprised me. I didn't think of having a favorite anything. Not a favorite color, or a favorite among my creations. It was a very unlike-me thing for this little fragment of my mind to come up with. But-

“You can be Little Ibis then. The bird of wisdom.” It seemed to like that, sending waves of pride through my mind. “Now, we have, oh, too much work to do. Let’s set to work."

I had so many, many things to do. The only true obstacle was time. Arak was out there, yes, and the Black Wolf in his chest, but given enough time I would outgrow and outlearn them both. Every day I worked tirelessly and sleep was only needed when my mind was so frayed I couldn't continue.

There was a joy to working like this. To endlessly planning and perfecting the march of my new world across this desert.

Break the Siege.

Goal 1: Explore the underground caves for a way beneath the siege.

1a: Adapt a small, quick insect to serve as a scout for long trips away from the Oasis.

Goal 2: Learn about the Abyssals.

2a: Interrogate the mandril.

2b: Capture more enemy troops.

Goal 3: Learn about the world.

3a: Scout the watering holes of the desert for life.

Goal 4: Heal the desert.

Goal 5: Integrate the goblin tribe to the oasis.

Goal 6: Create a Sky-Eater.

Of these tasks, scouting the labyrinths had to wait on adapting a creature to the purpose. The mandril was presently imprisoned beneath the earth but raging violently at its cage. I didn’t predict much cooperation until it exhausted its rage. Increasing my defenses seemed wise-

But scouting the area would give me resources to work with. I shifted into the skin of my hawk, feeling his brash mind surge with preening honor and the urge to put himself to work. He was high above, holding court among his many bridges on a formation of rock pillars in the east.

At my command we left them all behind and soared towards Redmouth Canyon.

The canyon’s upper level was full of small, scraggly weeds poking out from the rough faces of the rock. Small desert hares adapted for climbing with long-toed forelegs chewed on the foliage, and foxes hunted them whenever they descended from the heights. Below, there was a substrate of crawling insects, small foraging rodents, a baseline layer of survivors scrabbling for life in the dirt who fell to the middling predators - flightless, dull-feathered birds like parrots and a particularly fast predatory lizard that would rear up on its hindlegs to gallop after prey.

The most interesting creature among them was actually a strange adaptation of a scorpion. It had completely sacrificed its sting, replacing the poison barb on its tail with a broad, fleshy flower of sensitive pink feelers that served double purpose as an olfactory organ and for feeling out minute shifts in the air.

Blossom-Tailed Scorpion

[ Unranked ]

Kingdom Animalia

Age - 3 Days

Physique - Unranked

Arcana - Null

Psyche - Unranked

Diet - Small Insects

Biome - Arid Desert

Cycle - Diurnal Adapted completely to hunt for small burrowing insects, this scorpion has sacrificed its chief weapon in exchange for a delicate, extremely accurate sense of smell provided by the vivid red 'flower' on its tail. In addition, its claws have thickened to allow for digging and to serve as its primary means of hunting.

Notable Features - Air pressure sensitivity.

But the true kings of the Redmouth Canyon didn’t live above, among the bubbling tar and stone towers. They were below, in the dark, where small pools of water could accumulate as countless drips of condensation ran down the stone. Fights over territory were fierce and frequent, with the few specimens from beneath who prowled on the surface the cast-outs and exiles, the wounded and old who could no longer defend their water.

I watched as two of these broken animals circled each other. One was an enormous mosquito, its wings vestigial and stunted. An elongated underbelly dragged against the sand as it moved on thin, serration-covered legs. Half of them had been broken by some past fight, but even so, the beast’s long deadly needle-mouth gave it an advantage in reach. One stab and hollow, hair-like barbs would begin to draw in blood until it had effectively syphoned the water from its prey.

Against it was a two-headed coyote with leathery, wart-covered hindlegs, akin to a giant toad. One of its two heads was badly injured, a huge gash against the skull that had blinded one eye and began to fester. The blackened ruin of the wound had rendered the left head totally feebleminded, barely able to think through the fever and pain. Only its brother was keeping them alive.

Desert Orthrus

[ Bronze ]

Kingdom Animalia

Age - 16 Years

Physique - Unranked

Arcana - Null

Psyche - Unranked

Diet - Omnivore

Biome - Arid Desert

Cycle - Nocturnal Two-headed and alert, the orthrus descends from an ancient lineage far surpassing the measly desert over which it now struggles. This bloodline resides in a lingering ferocity, a certain nobility of spirit, and an ability to survive deadly wounds. Its hindlegs are from another trace of greatness in its bastard ancestry, and provide a powerful leaping potential.

Notable Features - Ancient lineage.

Dire Stirge

[ Unranked ]

Kingdom Animalia

Age - 3 Months

Physique - Unranked

Arcana - Null

Psyche - Bronze

Diet - Hemophagy.

Biome - Shallow Caverns

Cycle - Diurnal Over years of adaptation stirred by residual wild Mana, this bloodsucking pest has become huge, a prowling spindly shadow that survives the arid environment by drinking its victim's blood for both food and water. Only the females retain the ability to feed, with the smaller males attaching to them and slowly molting away their limbs.

Notable Features - Sexual dimorphism.

The fight began as the mosquito darted forward, needle-mouth stabbing. It struck sand as the orthrus retreated, surprisingly fast, the long stinger striking the rocks. If it was totally inflexible the impact would have broken the mosquito’s proboscis in a heartbeat - instead the long blood-sucking syringe bent and snapped back to form.

Again and again, the mosquito was able to drive its quarry back, those long stick-thin legs making it appear huge. It had the coyote fenced in against a rock wall, slowly advancing.

I saw what would happen as the beast’s froglike back legs braced.

As the mosquito drove in for the kill, the coyote kicked into a blur of motion that carried it straight up the walls, grasping a hold with its forepaws. The huge power of its leap had brought it to safety, but now it turned, twisting on narrow ledges barely wide enough to provide a foothold. Its frog-like legs flopped against the cliff-face and found purchase.

A second leap hammered it downwards onto the mosquito, the dull-minded insect still confused. The wings did serve a purpose - much like the scorpion’s feelers they sensed shifts in air pressure - but even that was too slow a warning to save the predator.

Its prey’s paws crashed into its back. The one able head grasped the insect by the neck and tore.

The fight had ended.

I gave the winner a gift, as he tried to find meat on the armor-covered body of his foe. A thin rain scattered over the scene - it was hard to create water so far from my core, but not impossible - and each droplet was luminous with healing power.

The wound on his brother’s face sealed over. The infection within was purged, and the left head’s one remaining eye regained its focus as the fever lifted.

The canyon was vast, and little stories unfolded. The mating ritual of a pair of mantis, the male bringing food to his larger mate, retreating immediately for fear that she’d eat him too. Biding his time until he thought she was sated and could begin his dancing approach.

A chain of ants dragged a spar of white bone across the dust. They were adapted to bite through to the marrow, drilling with their tiny mouths until one broke through and the whole colony could feast. Licked clean the bone would become part of their macabre nests.

Beneath, in a small cavern away from the rest of her tribe, a panther with long whipping tendrils extending from her shoulders licked the birthing fluid from the fur of her children. The contrast between the mother’s form - muscular and powerful even as she lay exhausted - and the pinkish, shapeless potential of the cubs was striking. Before I turned away, I gave a small bestowal of Mana to the litter.

My hawk flew on.