#prey is near...approach with tact: naafiri interaction

[shimmerbeasts]

The General and the Darkin Hound

The scratches on the main body's flank did not look good. Naafiri angled their head sideways to examine them. The Voidborn had managed to land a lucky blow on their main vessel before the pack had managed to overpower it. Three gashes adorned the main body's side, seeping dark red, strangely pulsating Darkin blood. Naafiri growled in displeasure, their chops covered in slick, oily, black goo. Even their blood felt wrong. The Void could only imitate and copy with little understanding.

The Darkin would survive. Having vanquished their foe, they could find a place to recover. Still, this had been way too close. Naafiri had pursued this one far out of the borders of their territory. The chase had carried them across land and sea and replaced the hot, scorching sand of Shurima's desert with hard earth and short grass. The air was full of unfamiliar smells, save for one: Blood. It seemed to have seeped into the soil of this place.

Shaking its head, the large blades adorning the main body's neck jiggled back and forth, rattling ominously. Naafiri sneezed in displeasure as they slunk across the land. Halting before a strange broad tree with thick brown bark and unfamiliar leaves, Naafiri began to dig a groove before the roots, trying to get some rudimentary cover from the open planes. The main body had to stop digging soon as the action strained the wounds on its side. Luckily, the other packmates worked all the harder. Their lean, red legs gathered up the soil and shovelled it away. Their pants and gasps filled the air.

By sundown, they had dug a groove big enough for the main body to rest in. Naafiri gave a relieved sneeze as they carefully settled down in the groove. Crossing their front paws over one another, Naafiri rested their head upon their legs. Their stomach grumbled in displeasure. Voidborn were not a fun chase. Not only were they hard to bring down, but their meat decomposed so fast that you could consider yourself lucky if you managed to snatch up a few mouthfuls.

Naafiri was about to fall asleep from the long hunt when the sudden barks and howls of one of the packmates drew the Darkin's attention. Extending the majority of their conscious mind out of the main body, they focussed upon the barking packmate. Through its eyes, they could spot a raven sitting in the tree branches. It looked like a normal bird at first, however, the dune hound's keen senses picked up on something strange and unnatural. This was no ordinary bird.

Taking proper control of this specific packmate, Naafiri placed lean, red paws against the bark of the tree as it stood on its hindlegs, stretching as far as it could. Craning its head up, the dying sun reflected ominously upon the metal blade, protruding from the packmate's head and its yellow, pupilless eyes narrowed as it focused solely on the corvid. And then that jagged muzzle parted to reveal slick, saliva-coated fangs and the dune hound spoke:

"My, my, aren't you a strange bird? Normally, instinct should have made you fly far away by now. Why don't you come down here, little one? We promise we won't eat you, just yet. Let's have a little chat instead."

@carmencxgni discussed a starter.

[shimmerbeasts]

"Hard to say."

Naafiri raised its hind leg and scratched vigoriously under the main body's jawline. Its blades retracted a touch to ensure freedom of movement. The Darkin shut their eyes, jaws relaxing, as they pondered the question.

Naafiri murmured: "Back when we... when I ascended, I felt like my mind somehow became ageless. I don't think I was mentally my age after my Ascension. The concept of age just vanished. It is hard to describe. Though perhaps it had to vanish. After all, Nasus, for instance, was one of the youngest Shurimans to ever step under the sun disk. Can you imagine the Emperor's grand and fabled advisor being a moody twenty-year-old? Nobody would have taken any of his words seriously."

"Maybe it is good that we lost the concept of aging", Naafiri said and lowered their head. The blades spread out once more, ominously rattling in the air. "We do not remember how much time we spent in our dagger. We only know it was a long time. If we had kept aging in our minds, maybe it would have driven us even more insane than we already are."

Their jaws were clenched in discomfort. The other pack mates barked and growled, leaping back and forth for a couple of seconds as their yellow eyes scanned the horizon for an unseen enemy. The Darkin shook themselves in a bid to chase the bad memories away. Naafiri looked at the pack mates, their vision swimming as they looked at the many bodies they inhabited while also distinctly feeling themselves be gazed upon.

"These bodies feel different yet again", Naafiri told Caitlyn. "We can feel the relative age of each pack mate. Thus, we can feel as young as a pup and as old as a dune hound, which ran many moons by now. Again, we have lost the concept of aging, even though we force these bodies to never die completely."

"Question for my Immortal friends and people I know...do you keep counting the ages as 'maturing' as time goes on? Or do you feel as if you plateaued on a specific age and you've been that age since forever?"

[shimmerbeasts]

8 for Naafiri + Mizora

Spotify Wrapped||Accepting.

We'll Be Fine from EPIC: The Musical

"We think you are being a bit harsh on him."

Naafiri stepped out of the blood and gore, with which they had teleported themselves to Mizora's side. As per usual, the Darkin was followed by a few of their packmates - smaller and leaner dogs, their scarlet pelt so dense it made them seem more made of muscles than fur. Whereas Naafiri's neck was adorned by long, shivering, vicious blades, these hounds had a single sharp dagger protruding from their foreheads.

Several pairs of yellow, pupilless glowing eyes locked onto the sleeping boy, curled up in unrest on his cot. Brown skin, a badly scarred face, which clashed wildly with how young he was, just as his modest clothing seemed a willful contradiction with his upbringing as the child of an archduke. Beads of sweat gathered on his forehead and fear, stress and strain made the air thick around him.

They turned their attention towards Mizora. "He is young", Naafiri's main body spoke, "All of this is incredibly new to him. We are not saying to not push him, but we do believe you are pushing the lad too fast and too quickly." The main body stepped over to Wyll and sniffed at his neck. They walked back over to Mizora. "What happened to Wyll must feel like a travesty to him. It is a lot to take in. You have to give him time to process that. We had to take a while to process what happened to us after all. Even this new body was something, we had to attune to."

The hound dropped on their haunches and looked back at Wyll. "Give it time", Naafiri reiterated, "He will do much better later. Underneath all that heroic morale, he seems like quite the clever lad. You just have to find a way to get that to the forefront then you should have quite a nice warlock."

[shimmerbeasts]

It wasn’t unusual for the Matron to challenge herself in extreme weather conditions, using the blistering heat of Shurima's deserts to practice with the region’s traditional weapons. While she still favored her magic, channeling it through her staff as a conduit, she was acutely aware of how often mages could be rendered powerless through restraint or suppression. For that reason, she refused to rely solely on arcane abilities for her survival. On this particular day, under a relentless sun blazing high in the sky, LeBlanc sparred with a local master of swordsmanship. He was, naturally, a trusted member of the Black Rose and fully aware of the formidable woman he was training. He dared not hold back, knowing that doing so would earn him her displeasure. What she didn’t foresee, however, was the reaction of her companion's cubs. Naafiri’s pups seemed to mistake the sparring session for some sort of playful scuffle. LeBlanc had just parried an overhead strike when she felt powerful jaws clamp down on her calf. A startled cry escaped her—not from pain but sheer surprise. Instinctively, she dodged an opportunistic follow-up strike from Khalid, refusing to call off the session despite the interruption. After all, distractions like this could just as easily occur in a real fight. Moments later, LeBlanc disarmed Khalid with a calculated strike, her blade pressing lightly against his throat in victory. Only then did she lower her weapon and turn her attention to Naafiri and her pack. "If you wanted to join us, you could’ve just asked!" she said, her voice carrying a mix of amusement and exasperation. Far from angry, she found it endearing that the pups were so eager to engage. "If I’d known they’d jump in, I would’ve been more careful to avoid them as well." Her voice was breathy as she still had to catch up with her breath. Lowering herself, the gave a closer look on the bite on her calf to assess how bad it was.

Naafiri's yellow, pupilless eyes followed LeBlanc's movements. The Darkin hound sat in the shade of one of the tents. The Shuriman members of the Black Rose had learned to understand that the dangerous, seven-foot-tall beast was a friend and ally of the Matron and thus treated Naafiri with reverence. They would lie if they pretended it did not feel good. It reminded Naafiri of the old days when she had been an Ascended. The common folk would bow their heads in the same reverence if they saw her walking by.

LeBlanc was practising the wielding of a khopesh, a traditional ancient Shuriman weapon, which turned out to be a very strangely curved sword. The sharp clanging of the khopesh hitting the bronze shield Khalid used for self-defence caused Naafiri's ears to tip upward. The main body rose its head, staying entirely focussed on how LeBlanc did her best to get a handle on the strange weapon.

The remaining pack mates did not pay that much attention to the sparring. While they could understand its importance, Naafiri's major conscience mind rested in the main body. Unless it bothered signalling to their pack that this was of importance, they barely spared it another glance.

However, it seemed the pups had other thoughts. Naafiri's cubs were not yet old enough to fully assimilate with the Darkin mind. Thus they observed this sparring session not with the notion of it being a practice, but a game. Before Naafiri could register what would happen, the cubs hurried over and snapped strong jaws around LeBlanc's calf. Even as such young things, the Darkin inside of them allowed their bites to carry quite a bit of power.

Once LeBlanc defeated Khalid, Naafiri gave a low sneeze to call the cubs back to them. The Darkin's pack mates rose a bit faster than the main body. Two walked over to pick up the squirming, excited puppies who were yapping and wagging their tails. The cubs were softly placed amid the pack. The main body looked back and gave another low snort as if to make it clear that they should not have done that.

Naafiri spoke: "We had not known they would jump in. Though now that you offer it." The main body shook itself, blades jiggling, before it came prowling towards LeBlanc. "We would not mind the additional training. Hunting prey so rarely has it fight back. Not that we are opposed to it. We love to see things run."

"Still, are you certain that you want to spar with us?", Naafiri warned, "We would not hold back and we have felled many enemies before. Large and small." The Darkin looked at their friend, their tail trembling with excitement. Three of their pack mates got up and joined them, creating a small formation behind the main body, making it a somewhat fairer fight.

"Ready when you are, LeBlanc."

@blackrosesmatron cont. from here.

[shimmerbeasts]

The only reason she was willing to wear anything red was because it was a gift from Naafiri. In the name of their partnership, LeBlanc was willing to make such a small sacrifice. Tying cloak around her neck and pulling the hood on, she swirled around to present herself to the Darkin to judge if either she looked good in it or not. "I must admit red is not my go-to color; I leave it to my partner since it suits him much better." Talking about Vladimir reminded her that there were other matters she wished to discuss with the desert terror. "Would you be free to chat? There is something I need your assistance with." Her voice switched from a lighter tone to a serious one, as if something were weighing on her mind. "There is information I believe you possess that would be of great importance to a friend of mine." Or for herself, to keep Vladimir safe from his previous master.

The cloak had been given to LeBlanc by a tribesman, dressed in blood red. The fabric was quite common around Shurima, worn to protect you from the hot winds and the unforgiving gaze of the sun. However, its red colour was certainly not. The traveller was standing on a lithe, wooden sledge, pulled by two of Naafiri's packmates. The man did not look like he was the musher of the hounds, but more like he was made to follow them.

The main body's yellow eyes remained transfixed on LeBlank as she did a little twirl to show off the traveller's cloak. Naafiri wagged their tail in approval and the two pack mates hoarsely barked, excited and curious as they inspected the Black Rose's Matriarch. The Darkin said: "Well, we for one think, red suits you quite a bit."

As soon as LeBlank's tone changed, Naafiri flicked the main body's ear. The pendant jingled a bit. The Darkin stared at the musher and under an itching and stitching sound, the poor man's mouth became covered in bloodied tendrils as his lips were sewn shut. His ears popped, and he let out a startled whine. The Darkin wagged their tail at the sledge.

"Hop on", Naafiri insisted, "It is going to make keeping up with our pace faster. Plus we won't be tempted to eat your mule again." Their long, crimson tongue licked across jagged fangs, causing the mule to snort and throw its head up in alarm. Once LeBlanc had made herself comfortable on the sledge, the dune hounds took off. They were not sprinting just yet, though they were trotting at quite a rapid pace.

Naafiri spoke: "We believe, it would depend greatly on the information, you wish to acquire from us. There may be certain things, we may not be willing to disclose. Even so, speak, LeBlank."

@blackrosesmatron cont. from here.

[shimmerbeasts]

"Shh, I know it feels overwhelming right now, but you're not alone. I'm right here beside you, and I'm not going anywhere." (From Varus to Naafiri. @abhorsenscollection)

Panic Attack||Accepting.

The blood rushed in their ears. It had always been hard to focus when the whispers of their collective conscience were as loud as they were right now. Normally, Naafiri's old self and Darkin nature rarely interfered with their new life as the collective mind of a pack of dune hounds.

However, seeing the stature peeking half out of the sand made it impossible for Naafiri to simply ignore it. The Shuriman heat had dried up the stone and cracked the paint, however, that slim muzzle and those pointy ears, that composition of black and gold was unmistakable.

Nasus...

Their muscles clenched. Images flashed before Naafiri's mind. Fractions of memories, which they had thought they had banished to the bottom of the ocean, which was their collective conscience now. Yet they drifted back to the surface as if the events had happened yesterday.

Nasus, rebuking her and telling her that as an Ascended her life belonged more to the Empire than it ever had belonged to her. Nasus, daring to condemn her for the choices, she had made, claiming he had nothing to do with her corruption. The light blinding her, followed by a claustrophobic feeling of being unable to move, even unable to draw breath...

The pack howled uncontrollably and the main body's jaws parted in a maddening roar, a yell, which shredded its vocal cords. A flood of red spit ran out of its muzzle. Naafiri twisted their body around and flung a dagger right at the stature. It burrowed itself into the eye of the jackal statue, cracking the ball and slicing off one of its ears.

Naafiri moaned in pain and hung the main body's head. They continued to bleed out of their muzzle, spit and gore mixing with each other. Their legs trembled and finally, Naafiri dropped to the ground. The Darkin wept and covered their eyes with their muzzle, shaking uncontrollably and unable to calm down.

[shimmerbeasts]

So Far From Home

Some cubs were born practically fearless.

It was hard to say whether that lack of fear came from the slumbering string of Darkin conscience inside of them, which while not yet being able to control them the same way it strongarmed the adults, still influenced the little rascals as they discovered the world around them. Usually a cub would be under the watchful eyes of one of the packmates. However, once every while one of them managed to break loose and explore the world on its own.

As did this cub. Naafiri and the pack had tracked a robber and its mule towards one of the old ruins, scattered across all of Shurima. It still felt alien to look upon monuments built in honour of dead warriors and emperors and know exactly who they used to be when alive. The crumbling ruins and the mountains of sand, covering the stone, convinced the Darkin even further how Shurima oughta be owned by the wildlife and not by humans. Maybe it had been these ponderings, which made the pack lose sight of one of the cubs. Maybe it had smelled something promising and fell into a sprint of its own.

The cub after a fast, slightly wobbly sprint stopped in a bush and gasped for breath. The hot sun was baking its thin red fur with muscles so dense, it seemed as if it was carrying around more blood than it needed. That same blood was whispering and churning in its veins, telling of powers the little whelp was far too young to grasp yet. Even so, it strutted through that bush, pointy, slim tail raised, head held high, ears swivelling and the small shard of a Darkin dagger reflecting the light from above.

There. The puppy caught the smell of a lone traveller, wandering through the desert, perhaps looking for some shelter or shade. It poked its head through the blades of long grass as it inspected the traveller. They were on their own, urging a half-blind mule forward. The animal's ears swivelled around and its walk was unsteady. The rider was dressed in heavy, dark brown clothes, draped over a slender frame. Too many layers if the smell of sweat was anything to go by. The little cub put its ears back and revealed a small maw full of sharp, pointy teeth.

The whelp released a loud bark, trying to sound as threatening as it could, however, it sounded more like a hoarse squeak. It then came running at the mule and tried to jump the animal. Yipping and snapping at its hooves, it caused the half-blind animal to rear up a touch, whining in displeasure. Its swinging front hooves missed the puppy by mere inches. The little fellow remained undeterred, barking loudly as it kept growling at the mule, paws pressed into the soil ears pushed back. It was behaving like it was thinking of itself as a much bigger and more powerful animal.

Perhaps not even an animal at all.

@veiled-lady

[shimmerbeasts]

@heredis-sanguinis cont. from here. That feeling of ancient and monstrous dread returned. Stronger, closer, right there with him. His eyes beheld the form it took. For a moment Vladimir considered that his senses were playing tricks on him. This… canine, or whatever it was, could never possibly be the source of it. Or could it. Apprehensively he watched the creature until it finally clicked in his mind. The blood he took all those centuries ago, that flowed within him, mixed with his own. It called out, furiously and almost longingly. As if it was akin to each other. “Darkin…” he slowly said. A name he had not uttered for many lifetimes. A name he would never had hope to encounter once again. But it was not the same as his former master. No, this was different. But at the same time, oh so similar. Just being in the same area was enough to make every muscle of his body tense. It hadn’t attacked him, yet. Perhaps it was not seeking retribution. Would it even know of his actions? Of his master? “What is it that brings you to me?”

Ah, delicious fear!

Naafiri's nostrils twitched a touch as the main body inhaled the air, taking in the smell of the creature before it. Vladimir smelled of an ancient fear, stronger and sweatier almost as if his body had not felt fright in a long time. At the same time, there was a thrumming hum and pounding in Naafiri's innards like someone was striking the strings of an invisible instrument. Darkin blood. Right in front of her. In the body of a charlatan, who had stretched his pesky skin so thin, his face had turned waxen and his flesh yellow. Vladimir looked less like a lord and more like the corpses, he was dealing in.

This development would certainly be interesting. Naafiri's main body cocked its head aside as the other one called them a Darkin. The pendant jingled against a silver grey and dark red cheek. Out of the yellow eyes of the other packmates, Vladimir was surrounded and looked both pompous and outdated at the same time. His frail-looking body was concealed by a large, billowing, wine-red rope with an ostentatious collar like the frills on the neck of a lizard.

Yet as human as he tried to look, as gallant as he wanted to appear - predictable, petty human arrogance -, right now, his body was as much controlled by an animal as Naafiri's was. It made them wonder how adept he was at reading her. Far too many people had failed. Even the other Darkin seemed to struggle to see beyond their host's body and failed in reading the language, Naafiri employed these days.

"We have a name, you know", Naafiri said as they stalked closer towards Vladimir, "It's Naafiri. Saying Darkin is about as insulting as calling a wolf a wolf. You are stating the obvious. As for what brings us to you, Vladimir? Merely curiosity. A lot of intriguing details travel across the sandy roads. One of such details spoke of a creature, drenched in blood, in Noxus. We thought it may have been one of our brethren, but instead, we find you. Tell us, whose life-bearer were you?"

[shimmerbeasts]

"We know what we heard", was all Naafiri said. The Darkin hound eyed the heir of the Merdada clan with a sense of stoicism. It was another gift from the animal. Unlike their brothers, who had chosen to covet humans for their vessels and inherited with them the slew of emotions and expressive nature, Naafiri's chosen bodies communicated on a completely other plane of existence.

It gave the Darkin a sharper focus and prioritisation than they had ever experienced. The pack hunted as one, and thus what was good for the pack would always be its priority. A big reason the Darkin war had gotten as bad as it had and ended in their entrapment was the fact that in the past, they all prioritised their self. None of them had been able to see the bigger picture.

They all had just coveted more and more power. None of them had been able to rule efficiently because none of them could bring themselves to prioritise them all. The Darkin had to learn to hunt as one. They had to gain the gifts of the animal. Naafiri would ensure that they found it, provided it did not endanger the pack itself.

Naafiri ignored the uneasy shifts and whimpers of the wolves, even their bared fangs. The Darkin was too focused on the hemomancy they were performing. And indeed, as Mel's blood circled through her lineage - the side of her that was not a Merdada -, the girl actually paid attention and even seemed to be alarmed. She baulked away from the slave girl who stared at her with glowing eyes.

Naafiri stopped their spell and ingested the blood. As they stepped closer towards Mel, the red juice coating their paws and legs disappeared underneath their skin and after a certain period, spawned another blood-red dunehound. The packmates mirrored the main body's behaviour and encroached upon Mel, blocking off any avenue of escape.

"That is your ancestor, Mel Merdada", Naafiri said, "The source of the magic in your veins. The originator of the song, we followed. They worked for us centuries ago when we were still a singular entity. We thought their family had gone extinct, but they have not. Their bloodline vowed fealty to us, Mel. That makes you ours."

Mel narrowed her eyes at the beast’s tone. Yet she did not speak in negation either, for she did know something was up. Something stirred within her, but silently underneath trapped wires. something she could not break no matter what she did and ignored for a long lifespan. She knew what her mother thought of magic as well and so she tried to defy it, ignoring it so that she could prove to her mother she could fight without anything other than her physical being. “I have never practiced magic, though to say someone has never sung does not mean they could not sing. I have never practiced magic,”

Eyes of hazel green watched as Naafiri started to weave the blood, like liquid laced ropes twist and turning. She took a few steps back, the Hemomancy so visceral and the metallic scent stifling. The sounds of unified howls caused Mel to look behind Naafiri at the other pups of hers. Her own wolves started to instantly pull back, fangs bared and ears back uncomfortable with the blood magic and the others. Yet Mel then took a step forward, needing these answers.

“Wait, you!” Mel spoke out, the man the one who had done her tattoos. He often was around Ambessa, the one who weaved such marks upon her body. Sometimes those tattoos felt more like a cage than something to embrace. And she always wondered why Ambessa made her get the tattoos but not Kino. But then it shifted and turned into something else, shifting through years of people, traveling through what she assumed must be some kind of family line, one after another. Then finally, at the end, was a woman. What caused her to take a few steps back was her shackles, wrapped around her arms, crossed; compliant. A slave who looked quiet. But her head shot up and Caused Mel to press her back against the wall, staring at those shining white eyes like the core of the sun burning into her.

“What is this?” Mel questioned immediately, trying to process all of this information, trying to retain what she was seeing. Research, immediately. She was going to have to dig, find more about all of this.

[shimmerbeasts]

There were many variants that could have happened when she invited the Darkin to their hunting lodge, the first one would be that she'd simply refuse and so Caitlyn would have to stick around Naafiri to make sure she didn't do anything crazy in the cities. The second one is that she had no idea how she'd react to the concept of target practice, and finally how she'd react to her gun. Each time she fired she could see the smaller dogs tense, though thankfully Naafiri herself in the main body only did so with intrigue. It was also rather terrifying how accurate she was with a dagger, often hitting targets that would be impossible for a normal human trying the same, not to mention how the pack would almost instantly jump onto the broken target and tear it to pieces. "Will they be...alright with eating those?" Caitlyn asked with a small smile, trying to relieve some of the tension with a joke. Still she followed along as the Darkin run to the next target...only to stop when she saw the Darkin's head snap up, her ears pointing up...she'd seen this behavior before in her own hunting dogs...they'd found prey. That poor animal would be rip to threshds in seconds, and Caitlyn would be fullish to both compete over it or try prevent the darkin from getting her prey.... so instead she sat down near a log, and motioned towards the side. "Go for it. Just don't make the poor creature suffer much."

"Dune hounds will eat anything they can get their slobbering jaws on." Naafiri's voice sounded manner-of-factly as if they were not equally deeply influenced by the physiology and psychology of the dune hounds. "They eat every part of their prey, including the bones. Nothing is wasted, Caitlyn. Though, yes, they probably should not be gnawing on wood." A dark purple tongue licked over pale greyish-white chops. "We will be picking wood splinters out of our jaws for months."

Caitlyn managed to somewhat keep pace with the leaps and trots of the pack. It astounded Naafiri. Dune hounds were fast, easily able to reach speeds of forty-one miles per hour. They could keep up that pace for up to an hour. And while the pack's trot through the woods was not nearly that fast, the fact Caitlyn managed to traverse the same uneven ground, crossing fallen trees and dips in terrain without falling too much behind was commendable. The Darkin had grown used to humans rarely matching them in agility or speed.

Back when Caitlyn had suggested that Naafiri stay in the hunting lodge, the Darkin had jumped at the chance. Osha Va'Zaun had lost anything familiar over the many centuries she had been trapped in her dagger. Piltover and Zaun were alien to her. The hustle and bustle of the large city states, the strong smell of chemicals and the constant popping, creaking and blinking of machinery had been overwhelming. The forests around the hunting lodge felt somewhat familiar, even though the Darkin missed the familiar scorching heat of the sun on their back.

Even the scent of deer was unfamiliar. It still caused Naafiri's maws to water, telling her that whatever this creature was, it was some form of food. The smell dimly reminded the Darkin of the scent of antelopes, however, it didn't feel quite right. It was as if someone had tried to replicate antelope smell from memory and somehow missed a few crucial notes.

The Darkin turned their head in Caitlyn's direction as the Sheriff sat down on a log. The blades around their neck spread open like a toxic flower, and even their tail rose up a touch in excitement. Naafiri rasped: "They are our prey. They are our food. We eat them. Killing wastes time getting meat in our guts."

The pack slunk off deeper into the woods. Even Naafiri's main body managed to move with surprising efficiency and a deadly quietness. The scents of dirt, fallen leaves and dark bark sketched a complete picture into the pack's mind, dark shadowy shapes against which the smell of the deer was like a splash of silver. Instinct and buried knowledge, passed down the generations, took over. Even if Naafiri could have used her human mind to plan an ambush, they did not want or need to. The pack was an efficient killing machine. They knew how to hunt any game, which struck their fancy.

Several of the packmates split up and headed deeper into the thicket, getting ahead of the deer. They were slowly preparing to encircle it. Once everybody had taken their positions, something Naafiri could confirm through nothing but their smell, the Darkin flung one of their daggers at the deer. Penetrating its flank, the mammal belled in shock and broke into a gallop in the hopes of getting away. The main body immediately raced after it, low whooping grunts calling the other pack members into action.

The deer tore through the woods, zigzagging to throw its pursuers off. But the Darkin hounds stayed hot on its tail. Quick whoops and loud barks like controlled whistles carried through the air to the point even Caitlyn could hear them. The packmates were a blur of red fur and sharp metal as they ran up close to the deer's flank, nipping into its legs and sides, tearing off flesh. The wounds were shallow and non-fatal, but their continuous bleeding added up, making the deer slower and slower by the minute.

Naafiri's main body growled and threw another dagger, penetrating the flank at the same spot they had hit prior. The deer moaned in pain and stumbled over its own legs. Seizing the opportunity, the Darkin fell upon it. Sharp teeth in dozens of jaws snapped at the behinds and front of the deer, wrestling it to the ground. Naafiri ripped open its belly with a single bite. The deer trashed its legs helplessly, bellowing and screaming in pain.

The dune hounds ignored the cries. They dug their snouts into the wounds and ripped out slices and chunks of meat, barely chewing and swallowing almost instantly. The continuous noises and feelings of collapsing throats had been overwhelming at the start; however, now Naafiri had grown accustomed to them. They had moments when their past self tried to make them savour the red meat, almost in vain. Feeding frenzies like this were not about savouring flesh. They were about getting as much meat down as possible, lest larger predators take it.

Within fifteen minutes, the gnashing of dozens of teeth died down, and a deadly lull filled the forest. Bushes rustled, and the pack stepped back out into the clearing where Caitlyn was sitting on her log. The maws were smeared red, and the Darkin panted, flanks rising and falling. The main body was carrying the torn-off head of the deer by the back of its skull, and like some twisted trophy, dumped it in front of Caitlyn's feet.

Yawning to disrupt their panting, Naafiri dropped down on the ground before Caitlyn. Their blades shuddered a bit under their rapid breathing. The other Darkin hounds plopped into the grass as well, some even completely sprawling themselves out sideways. Naafiri's main body looked at the rifle, resting beside the Sherrif's legs. They asked:

"What is that weapon actually used for?"

@piltover-sharpshooter cont. from here.

[shimmerbeasts]

The journey through the desert should have taken much less time between cities if those damn Rakkor didn't interfere on her way. Losing her camel, her only transport, was fatal and now, the night had fallen over the infinite sands. The Moon led her way but she was well aware of the dangers surrounding these vast dunes. When she lost track of the offending warriors and any sign of civilization was long gone, she started getting restless. The darkness became alive and the possibility of running into predators increased exponentially. A chill ran down her spine when distinctive howls sounded closer than expected and she draw her moon blade as quick as she could but it was already late. Half a dozen dune hounds appeared over the sand, one of them clearly the leader. What made her take a step back and take a defensive position was the impressive bearing of this dog. And that it spoke to her. " Leave or sucumb to the power of the Moon!" she spatted in anger and something she hadn't felt in a long time: fear. She was clearly at a disadvantage but it was no time to doubt and back out. She didn't have anywhere to hide or run.

At night, predators preferred going out to hunt. That included the dune hounds, even though they could hunt by daylight too. Naafiri and their pack had caught the smell of a lone traveller. Not even a camel. They would never be able to outrun them! Not that even a camel would have made much difference. However, predators preferred easy kills; and this seemed as easy as a kill could get.

Several of their pack mates had begun to howl as soon as the smell of the lone traveller filled their noses. The night was clear and cold, the moon a bright silver coin in the sky. It made the hunt a touch harder as it allowed their prey to see them coming. But they wanted it, didn't they? They wanted their prey to see them coming so that they would start running. Meat always tasted better when they ran.

Still, sometimes, Naafiri's pack managed an encirclement such as this. As the Darkin inspected their target, it dawned upon them that this woman was not from Shurima. Her scent was unfamiliar, colder and clearer and crisper. She was dressed in pale purples, silvers and hues of blue. There were crescent shapes upon her attire. Even her khopash was as silver as the moon above them. This was not just a stranger. There was more to this.

"Why should we fear the light of the moon?", Naafiri inquired with a dark chuckle and as the main body spoke, the remaining pack mates began to close in one paw step at a time, eerily in sync and heads pushed forwards. Their sharp daggers, protruding from their skulls, shone sharply in the dark.

"The moon's light is an ally of predator and prey alike in the dark of the night", Naafiri said, "It grants vision and allows predators to find their prey with ease. But it also allows the prey a head start to run. Not that we mind that." Now the main body stepped closer as well. The blades around its neck shuddered in anticipation. "We like it when they run."

"As for you, do not fool us, Aspect", Naafiri continued and the pack mates bared their teeth as they readied themselves to strike, "We can hear that precious heart racing in your chest and smell the sweat on your skin. You are more afraid than you want to look like."

Naafiri crouched down, their blades rattling. "You should consider yourself lucky", they taunted, "Being an immortal means you are harder to bring down. But then so are we." With these words, trails of blood seemed to lead from the main body and the pack mates right towards the Aspect. That was about as much warning as they got, before Naafiri and the dune hounds charged from all sides, ready to grasp with fangs and slam blades deep into any exposed flesh.

@lvnarii cont. from here.

[shimmerbeasts]

Nasus stood before the place of one of his greatest failures, sighing deeply at the place he had hidden her away. His shoulders sagged again as he stared at the desecrated temple, people had gotten in who knows how long ago, and even without ever having the courage to go back in he knew the blade had been taken. "Why does it take time, for knowledge to gained... for one to see just how they failed. Even the divine are not free from such failures, all of Runterra proves such." He looked from the ancient temple to the sands, the hand gripping his war staff gripping it tighter, causing the wood to creak. "At least she was not trapped with a betrayer like my brother was. Perhaps she will have had taken to self-reflection like I did when Shurima fell." He sighed before starting to walk away from the ruins, deciding to walk for a while instead of just teleporting away, keeping an eye out for anything else amiss.

Most of the time, Naafiri stayed as far away from the desecrated temple as they could. Too deep were the memories of having been sealed in her throwing dagger and hidden away by the one person, whom she was supposed to trust the most. The only times, they sought it out, was to protect themselves in the ruins from the sand storms, which regularly plagued Shurima's deserts. Better than sitting it all out in the open.

A recent sand storm had forced Naafiri and the pack back into that desecrated temple, though it had settled long ago and the breeze had taken their paw prints away. The pack had successfully stalked and killed a Skallashi, easily separating the large, long-legged, bison-like creature from its herd, before they had run it into exhaustion.

Fifty or so of the reddish dune hounds surrounded the carcass, burrowing their blade-protruding heads deep into the soft underbelly and scraping away at the meat and organs. The main body had already claimed the liver and heart for itself. Naafiri's ears rotated around, restlessly, constantly harking for any approaching predators or scavengers.

Vultures and hyenas, they could easily take care of themselves, however, outerbeasts or Baccai were a different story. They could easily challenge them for the carcass, though Naafiri had made quick work of most, establishing their threat. By now thinking like the dune hounds had become such a thing of ease for the Darkin that they sometimes had to actively remember that they had not always been a plural entity.

The hot desert wind carried the smell of a jackal over some of the hills close by. At first, Naafiri assumed it was just that - a mere jackal. However, there was something about the smell. Something, which nagged and troubled her. Growling, the main body flicked one of its ears, feeling the pendant jingle against its cheek. The pack grew restless, fuelled by Naafiri's dread and sneaking suspicion.

It could not be him, could it?

The main body started to jog up the hill, swiftly followed by five other dogs for protection and aid. A lone hunter starved. The pack was strength. Naafiri knew better now. The stronger the smell of jackal grew, the more the Darkin crouched down into the hot sand. Dune hounds could not crawl like cats, but they still knew how to use brush and overgrowth for cover.

There he was, wandering around the edges of their territory with this godawful calmness and stoicism, which had infuriated Naafiri even back when she had tried to beg him to stop studying the influences of the Void through her. Everything for the Empire. His drawl about it all made her sick. The fact that he had the audacity to be here! Had he found out that the crypt had been broken into? Why would he bother to check?

A low guttural growl tore from the main body's throat. Normally, Naafiri was laser-focused, even though they inhabited various bodies at once. However, something about Nasus' presence distorted that focus, making them feel more disjointed and overwhelmed. It was a similar experience to when the dune hounds had first consumed her dagger.

Naafiri shook the main body's head, blades rattling, in a desperate bit to regain some focus. It did not work. It only infuriated them more. Need to watch you bleed! Need to bring you down, you bastard! Their body acted before Naafiri had time to process the motion. Leaping into the air, one of the daggers around their neck detached themselves and flew in a sharp arch right for Nasus' back.

@ask-nautilus-titanofthedeep cont. from here.

[shimmerbeasts]

The little gremlin of a girl backed off. Darkins smelled of open wounds, rotten meat and fresh blood. Naafiri's yellow, pupilless eyes narrowed, making out the magenta hue in those milky eyes. The girl's sharp teeth felt artificial, like someone had crammed the teeth of a shark or a piranha into a human mouth. The magic, hovering like wet clay in the air, beckoned both, familiarity serenating.

Blood magic. Hemomancy. First developed by the charismatic and vile Xoolani. It seemed the very art, which the Darkin had become condemned for, was still alive and well. Practised now by a nature which was shallowly copying it from ancient scrolls and dusty tomes. This creature in front of her felt like a shallow attempt at growing one's own flesh, shaping sinews and muscles into something vaguely humanoid. And yet, those quivering lips, those glistening fangs could not hide the animal underneath that girlish face.

"Yes", Naafiri spoke and briefly glanced down at the pup, which had backed away, hiding behind the Darkin's powerful hind leg. Dunehounds gave birth to small cubs. They often had to stay hidden in dens before they were allowed to feel the hot sand under their paws. Even then, they looked fragile next to the adults. Naafiri's main body practically towered over the puppy.

"You smell familiar too", the Darkin spoke, "Of iron and damp meat. Of bone marrow and gristle." The blades around the strong neck rattled. Naafiri raised their front leg and sank their teeth deep into their ankle. Blood drizzled out, which was immediately manipulated into long, fine, fibre-like tendrils, dangling from the Darkin's paw. It made it look like Naafiri was manipulating a mannequin.

"You sing of blood magic."

Tilting her head to the side, she crinkles her nose as a few quick breaths were taken. Smelling something rotten Briar shrinks back and backs up a few steps. Something about this dog felt wrong- So very wrong, a bubbling emotion quickly boiling under her grey skin. Hunger. Feeling it awaken at the presence of this beast Briar could feel it trying to erupt.

Eyes starting to shift closer to a magenta hue. Deep within her the magic that knew Darkin all too well reacted viscerally to those who had first birthed it to existence. All the agony and pain leaving unseen scars within the being now manifested by it. " Oh- is this your cub? " Speaking slower, her voice cracks. Lips twitching out of her control to flash her own sharpened maw as both of her ears turn towards Naafiri. Focusing in entirely on them.

" You feel- familiar. . " Briar murred, avoiding their question entirely.

[shimmerbeasts]

Things were progressing well—perhaps too well. What truly concerned her was the pace at which events were unfolding. It wasn’t ideal; in fact, it threatened to destabilize her carefully constructed plans. Mel Medarda had only just awakened to her powers and had already achieved incredible feats. Impressive, yes, but none of it had caught the Matron by surprise. "Ambessa was a minor issue, just the tip of the iceberg," LeBlanc mused, her tone dismissive yet tinged with irritation. "Of course, I wanted her gone—she was a headache and knew far more than she should." She sighed, turning to her companion with a faint smile that didn’t quite reach her golden eyes. "But her daughter?" LeBlanc continued, her voice dropping slightly. "Mel is walking the same path. She’s a weapon—one evolving far too quickly, and if this pace continues, she may spiral out of control. She’s on her way to Noxus as we speak, and I can only assume she intends to rally allies among her mother’s old connections." Her lip curled slightly. If there were any left in the Capital still willing to openly admit allegiance to the late general, they were likely either bold or foolish. LeBlanc leaned back, her expression contemplative. "I trust she will do what she must when the time comes. My only concern is that her recklessness may accelerate matters that have no need to be rushed. Despite her potential, she is not ready—not yet." After a moment, her expression softened, the tension easing from her features. "So, how do you feel about your new body?" she asked, her tone almost casual but tinged with curiosity. "I must admit, I was surprised you were finally willing to leave Shurima to explore other lands." Though Zaun remained on the Shuriman continent, it was a world apart—a city divorced from the sands and traditions of its birthplace. Her gaze flicked briefly to Ambessa's lifeless form before returning to her companion. "As for her," she added with a dismissive wave of her hand, "I have no further use for her. If you and your pack desire..." Her hand gestured slightly, an unspoken invitation to take Ambessa's remains as a feast.

One of the Darkin's ears twitched and their pendant jingled softly. Some things never changed. Shurima and Noxus had one thing in common: The hunger for expansion, the dream of a glorious empire spanning half the globe. And with that, every general, every person in a position of higher power longed to be immortalised. Ambessa had hungered for that too. Immortality in Noxian stories. Immortality in statues and mosaics. Yet she had been inconsequential for LeBlanc and thus the larger scheme of things.

"You could always slow her down", Naafiri remarked, "Just because she is accelerating now, does not mean she won't be forced to a stop. Rip the behind of a fleeing gazelle open or savage its legs and the fleeing animal suddenly runs much slower. The catch is, you have to ensure Mel does not end up limping. After all, a limping gazelle is a dead gazelle. You just need a way to slow her down, which cannot be traced back to you."

Naafiri twisted their head sideways to brush over a few strands of hair, which stood out in the wrong place. Zaun was indeed different from the coarse sands of Shurima. The sweltering heat, which they were so intimately familiar with, had been replaced by a dampness and acidity in the air. It made their pelt itchy and more prone to be found by ticks and other vermin.

They said: "It takes some adjustment. Our main body is still the one we harboured in Shurima. We have just remoulded it into something, which felt more appropriate for this place. We are surprised that the Zaunites seem unimpressed by the presence of greenish dogs running around.

"As for why we finally bothered to explore other grounds: The void can apparently emerge anywhere like it did here with the arcane. Besides it is becoming more and more apparent that my sisters and brothers are not just in Shurima. I must search for them in unfamiliar places instead of trusting that they want to find me. It is unfortunately clear to me that still so many of my kin are obsessed with going it alone."

At the invitation to feast on the fallen general's body, the Darkin lost any pretence of being civilised. With a bestial shriek, the pack pounced upon the dead body. Dozens of salivating jaws snapped and groped for any slice of meat they could find. At first, the pack mates solely were the ones eating, scarfing down as much of the brown meat as they could find. Finally, the main body sauntered over and as if sensing its approach, the rest of the pack parted to give Naafiri access to the innards. The Darkin opened their jaw wider than before, their head shot down and sharp teeth yanked out the liver, ripping open Ambessa's belly with an explosion of blood.

@blackrosesmatron cont. from here.

[shimmerbeasts]

In her many centuries of life, Emilia never imagined she would grow so close to a Darkin, let alone earn their trust. Yet, Naafiri had become surprisingly comfortable in her company, even when the entire pack was drained and low on energy. For once, the Deceiver felt the same weariness.

Without asking for permission, Emilia lowered herself to the ground, letting the coarse sands of Shurima embrace her as she settled beside the primary body of the Darkin. She rested her head against Naafiri's back, hearing the sounds the dune hound's body was making. The many protection spells and the high walls of her main residence could not compare on how comfortable and safe the Matron felt at resting beside Naafiri.

Naafiri could easily end her life with a single command to the pack or with a snap of her own jaws. The thought crossed Emilia's mind, but she dismissed it. She trusted the Darkin not to take advantage of such an opportunity. After all, if she would meet her end, she'd prefer it to be by Naafiri's teeth than by the hands of the Iron Revenant.

Shurima was a hot country; especially around noon, the heat could become so oppressive that it sapped even the largest and strongest predators of their strength. They fled into burrows and shades, wherever they were available. The whole pack had found its sanctuary in the gorge with its intricate tunnel system, which Naafiri used to rear the pups their female pack mates gave birth to.

Without clouds to shield them, the sun burned down upon the sand and dry rocks. Long, lean, red bodies were hugging the available shades, which barely covered up the gorge. The main body had rested upon a smooth rock, which thanks to its positioning was almost completely shrouded in shadows. Naafiri lay upon it, head between their paws and unwilling to move.

Once every while their pointy ears swivelled backwards to hark for any noises. Outside of the heavy pants and snores of their pack and the occasional yelps of the puppies, who were annoyed by the heat and restless in the dens, the only other sound, Naafiri could make out, was the occasional shifting of the Matriarch of the Black Rose. Emilia LeBlank leaned against their flank, head rested on their back and stared up into the sky.

Without a doubt, had they not known each other as well as they did these days, Naafiri would have eaten the pale woman. The Darkin had given up their faith in humanity and society at large after Azir and Nasus had betrayed her for her services. As far as Naafiri was concerned, Shurima belonged to the animals and anyone traversing the sands, was food. Noxian or Shuriman... It did not matter. At the end of the day, they all bled red. The only reason, LeBlank had salvaged her hide, was by offering up cattle of her own.

"Arrggghhh!" A wretched growl escaped the dune hound's lips. Naafiri shook their head a bit, making the blades around their neck jiggle. "Can this sun move any slower?! We'd disappear into a den if we had the space." Naafiri peered up into the sky and squinted their yellow eyes at the offending, flaming ball over their head. The raining season could not come soon enough!

They craned their neck around to look at Emilia. Wetting their maw, Naafiri inquired: "You do not happen to have any transported water on you, old friend? Or some more morsels, you could sacrifice? We would not even be after the meat this time, but the blood."

[shimmerbeasts]

The sudden quaking of the ground caused Naafiri to back away from Rek'Sai. The pack began to grow restless, individual pack mates leaping back and forth, howling and barking. "Something approaches! Something is near! Something approaches! Something is near! Death, death, death!" Naafiri's ears swivelled around as they scented the air, desperately trying to locate the approaching threat.

The ground split open in a violent eruption. The main body leapt backwards, blades rustling as a cloud of rock and dust rose. Small stones hit the Darkin's back and shoulders. Naafiri flinched and coiled in on themselves, trying to shield their main body from the sudden hailstorm.

A huge, blind mole-like beast dug itself out of the soil. Its beak-like maw opened in a roar, revealing rows upon rows of serrated teeth. Its front legs ended in paws with huge claws. the remaining pairs of legs framed a centipede-like body, each ending in a hook of its own. Naafiri barely registered Rek'Sai escaping, too busy staring at the roaring titan. It was not nearly as large as its mother, but it still was nothing to sneeze at.

Naafiri ground their fangs and whispered under their breath the Shuriman equivalence of 'Are you kidding me?'. They could not believe what they were seeing. Every fibre of their body burned. The pack had been diminished greatly in its fight against the Queen of the Xer'Sai. Naafiri did not have enough blood in them or bodies to reforge themselves into the same size, which they had used to battle Rek'Sai.

Xerxa'Reth seemed to sense Naafiri's weakness. The titan turned around and began to crawl towards them. Naafiri gasped and forced themselves back on all fours. The pack swiftly rushed to their aid, forming a protective barrier of forth protruding horns. The Darkin slowly backed away, growling, as they wrecked their mind on how to get out of this situation.

The battle raging below was, perhaps, the most intense that Shurima had witnessed in centuries. Ascended and Darkin fought furiously against the forces of the Void, and neither side would be content until the other was totally eradicated. Naafiri's numbers may be dwindling, but the queen of the Xer'Sai looked to be nearing her limits.

With the Dunebreakers gone, Xerath could return all of his attention back toward Rek'Sai herself. The Magus's magic cracked and eroded thick scales, and Naafiri's steel and teeth buried into unnatural flesh. It seemed as if Rek'Sai's end was nigh...

But then, the Voidborn let out another piercing screech, loud enough to be heard for miles. The ground erupted, and another massive beast made itself known. This Titan had come to the defense of its progenitor: her eldest child, and a beast who had been mockingly named after Xerath himself.

Using the brief distraction of the Titan's emergence, Rek'Sai hastily burrowed once more, fleeing the scene while she entrusted her children to finish the fight.