Welcome to Gaia! ::

The iron grey sky above was pregnant with rain, the edges of the clouds dark and threatening to unleash a torrent down upon the land. Wise creatures saught refuge from the coming rains, small lizards rustling the leaves as they fled, birds stirring the air with their wings before they huddled down into nests.

Some creatures just didn't care. The giant creatures that called this land home settled in, eager for the cooling rain to fall in their always warm habitat, ready for the fresh water that it would bring and the strange minerals that leaked from the mountain streams.

And then there was one, a man infact, who did not care if it rained or shined, did not care if a hurricane was blowing around him. He only cared about one thing currently.

" Why the ******** am I here?"

His voice lifted to an uncaring sky and the cold steel of the motorcycle below him, Damion stared out at the steaming swamplands, and pondered. his elbow settled on his shining handlebars, his hand cupped an otherwise smooth chin, and he pondered. For you see he had not come to this place with any plan in mind, had simply felt a need, a desire, to come to this place. But beyond that he was at a loss. The creature inside of his collar and his soul had not spoken to him on his journey, and he simply felt the tug and desire to go deeper into the marsh.

But he wasn't so sure.

Certain dangerous creatures lived in swamps, he could see one or two from where he sat, and as strong as he was he had no desire to take them head on at the moment. No point to it.

But the desire was still there, a pulsing, hungry, needy thing that threatened to drag him out into that deadly realm. His feet itched to walk, his body ached to sink into that warm water, to swim through the water and be as the other predators. And his resolve was slowly dying.

Over his leg swung, setting down on the ground with a thump as Damion stood proper on the ground, sighing softly. Off came his riding jacket, sinking into the side bag of his bike with a thump, to be followed by his shirt with a softer noise. The elemental bent, laces coming undone in short order until finally he was down to his simplest cotton pants, a belt, and nothing more. Easiest to hide and move through the swamp, thought He.

The ground did not make for a good bed. Infact, it made for a terrible bed, unyielding, cold most of the time, and the pillows were normally rocks. But for the weary and the worn, it was the only refuge, and to those that knew how, it was better than the softest of beds.

And to an earth elemental, it was constant home.

Damion nuzzled deeper into his pile of leaves, one arm cocked to provide a pillow for his head as he slept. No dark dreams bothered the elemental, no sneaking hunger threatened to drive him back into the world of the wake. No, instead he floated on shadows, unware of the activity around him.

A trio of swamp elves crouched around the slumbering elemental, peering down at him as if he were a rare gem. Which, to their xenophobic realm, it seemed he was. They made no threatening moves, however, simply watched as he slept for a time before zipping off into the dark of night, moving on light feet.

The wonderful thing about underwater travel is that the surface was so rarely disturbed. Fish, snakes, and other creatures could pass underneath you without ever knowing it, a fact that Damion appreciated.

Which was why he was doing it.

The muck of the canal provided poor hand-holds, but the earth elemental made do, moving through the water like a slim projectile. To most the murky depths would be similar to walking through a maze without lights, but Damion took turns as if he had spent his entire life here. He turned around obstacles that weren't there, swam up to avoid walls that had long ago crumbled away.

He was following a floor map that had long ago ceased to matter. To his minds eye, store fronts and homes slipped past him on either side, their doors open and wares out on display. He saw no one because they were all at the temple, preparing for a word from their god. Chanting echoed in his ears, floating down the ages. But the world was silent underneath the water, and no one worshiped anymore.

He stopped for amoment, head cocked, as a giant catfish fled at his presence, muck rising in a cloud before settling back atop his body, hands propelling him along after the creature before their paths diverged. Damion was close to his goal, could feel the old power that saturated the temple deep beneath the ground.

Finally his path forced him from the cool busom of the water, his feet settling then kicking off the mucky floor, sending him shooting for the surface. Water splashed all around as he erupted out, startling several deer and sending them scattering into the underbrush. A low throaty chuckle found its' way out of his chest as he climbed from the water, straightening up slowly, anti-freeze green eyes raking the island.

" There."

He spoke softly, although it wasn't needed. Hundreds upon hundreds of eyes were focused on him, the dark brown eyes of the tolls unblinking. It seemed like every member of every tribe had gathered there infront of the pit, poles with different emblems showing the allegiance of those beneath them. But for now, they all focused on him, each one settled firmly on their knees, various poorly made weapons settled infront of them.

And from a thousand different throats came a low hum, a song with no words, a hymn for the damned and desolate. Damion felt the urge to sing along with them, to fall to his knees and join in their song. Words floated unbidden into his mind, painting the landscape with harsh colors, everything more vibrant than before.

And beyond it all the Pit gaped wide, wind howling over the opening but never entering.

His feet began to drag him forward, at first stumbling and then walking steadily, his back straight, his head lifted. They parted ranks before him, shifting backwards on their knees until he was past, closing up behind him. With his attention so firmly forward, Damion could watch as the first of the Hydra's heads cleared the lip of the Pit, hissing softly to itself before it was joined by the others, each one as big as Damions' torso, venom dripping from their open mouths to burn against the ground. Jormungandirs body lifted further, pushing the heads until they rose up high above Damions still form.

The two guardians eyed one another, the human standing proudly before the monstrous form of his fellow guard.

" Yourssssss are not mineeeeee...."

Each head spoke in unison, their hissing forming words, a statement for Damion to understand, to know. He nodded as way of reply, his voice seemingly lost to awe, or perhaps there was just nothing to say. The beast began to back away, shifting sideways to clear a way for Damion to move, for him to enter the Pit.

" Gooooo...."

Dark colors swirled in the darkness of Damion's vision, royal purples, blood reds, deep blues, all mixed to float through his vision. Voices spoke to him, not in a language he could understand, but a low silibant hissing noise, rising and falling in a cadence that formed words and feelings. They painted his mind with visions of shadows and sudden deaths, flashes of light and the gurgling of the dying.

His body was alive with agony, cool air blowing on bones that shouldn't have felt it, muscles stripped and layed bare to the hot breath of the Deep Ones. Cold and clammy hands gripped his arms steady as steel sliced open his skin, pinpricks of pain amidst the fire across his skin signifying when they began to sew him back together. Dimly aware of what they were doing to him, he slid back into silence, wanting the pain to end and finding solace in his unconciousness.

When he woke again, his skin no longer burned, pain no longer flooded through his body, the only sensations being the cold stone on his back, soothing in its' familiarity, and the rough feeling of hemp rope around his wrists and ankles, now loose. His skin felt raw and chafed beneath the bindings though, and he knew he'd struggled in them, but for how long was lost.

A world of whites, greys and blacks greeted him as he opened his eyes, the high ceiling of the cathedral still as bare as it had been when he first arrived. The air was less moldy now, less dank, carrying with it the smell of ungents and powders, of incense burned and the rank smell of burned blood. His nose wrinkled and he recoiled slightly at the sent, feeling tense muscles strain to cooperate with him. With that first pain, the rest of his body woke up, bones grinding painfully in their stiffness, muscles tense enough to cause shooting pain through his body.

A low groan dragged itself from his raw throat, the only sound in his cavernous prison, echoing back from the corners of the room to mock him as he began to test his bonds gingerly, finding them undone and easily escape-able. Without rising, he reached his arms up and out, wincing and whimpering softly at the shooting pain. He felt like a stranger in his own skin, his limbs reacting in ways he didn't think possible. Everything seemed more graceful, his arms gray snakes in his vision as he examined them.

Where before bulky muscle covered his bones, now sleek muscle rippled and flexed beneath his skin. The white remains of scars slipped down his skin, the remains of his unasked for surgery, a souvenir he'd never lose. His fingers looked longer, more dexteretous, and the limbs they were attached to reacting more flexibly than he thought, the muscles rippling oddly. All thoughts of pain fled him as he slid his hands down their opposite arms, feeling the slick feeling of his skin come away under his touch.

Rough ridges marked where the deep ones had cut through his skin, opening his chest up like a corpse. His hands trailed down his stomach, feeling the new, redesigned muscles there. Instead of slabs, they seemed more lean, more like what a hunting cat would have. Were a cat in human form. Damion sat up slowly, groaning softly as his back and stomach protested. A long, slender tongue slipped out to run across his lips, tasting the salt there, the blood the had dried. These flavors were sharp as he finally reached a sitting position, seeing the rest of his body lay nude below him.

Whatever else the Deep Ones had done, they had remade his body into something foreign. He hadly looked like a normal human anymore, his limbs slender, sculpted, the skin edging more towards grey and heading towards black, a charcoal grey in his vision. " Buh...wuh...uh?" His voice refused to react properly, tongue and lips feeling clumsy. Damion swung his legs sideways off the slab, the stone rasping on his sensitive skin. With a push, he fell into the water, legs collapsing under him as he cried out.

The cool water felt welcoming to his hands, soothing the pain he felt as he rested there on the ground. His breath came in low pants, the stink of blood coming up with each puff of air until finally he had regained control, reaching back to set his hands on the slab. Groaning in pain, he forced himself onto his feet, pain blasting anything from his mind until he had gotten to his feet. Facing back the way he came, he could now see the 9 skulls of the Hydra again, set next to one another infront of him. The center most mouth was open, revealing rows and rows of gleaming white fangs, their edges dark to his eyes. The mouth was large enough to swallow him whole, the front teeth large enough to make swords from, the teeth slowly diminishing in size until they were big enough to make knives, or ornaments. To the right of this skull stood a robbed figure, his body hunched, his hands infront of him, holding out clothes of some sort to Damion. He could not see the figure inside the robes, only knew that it meant him no harm.

Halting steps carried him around the stone slab, each one painful to an extreme until finally he stood infront of the bowed figure, finding himself taller than it was even if it had straightened up. The hands were webbed, Damion noted as he pulled the clothes from the creatures hands, using the stone altar as a support. The 'clothes' consisted of a pair of pants, some kind of odd vest, and a pair of boots, each one dark as midnight in his vision, each as smooth as the softest cotton. The boots seemed to be made of some creatures skin, somewhat rough yet supple, and fitted themselves to his feet perfect, covering the bottoms of his pants up to mid-calf.

" Wuh?" Damion grunted at the man thing, words coming closer now despite the pain in his throat. As way of response, one arm moved, the rustle of clothe sharp in his ears, and pointed at the wide maw. From the hooded head came a series of low hisses and gurgles, bringing to Damion's mind a drowning serpent until the image was replaced by a mental picture of those same fangs, but in his hands, gripped as one would grip a knife, redesigned to resemble trench knives, flashing through the air.

" Oh....they want me to take them..." He turned back towards the fang lined mouth, moving into the wide maw cautiously, watching the top of the mouth should it drop down onto of him. His fingertips glided over the smooth and slimy bone, stopping as he reached the back set of teeth, leaning in to examine them abit. They were about a foot in length, shallowly curved towards the tip, the forward edge very clearly still sharp after all this time. The tooth smelled oddly, and Damion once again found his nose wrinkling abit at the smell before he reached up, tapping the tip gently and yanking his finger back fast, sticking it in his mouth with frown. The taste of blood quickly entered his mouth from the now open wound on his finger.

The taste brought a surge of adrenaline to his veins, waking his body up further, banishing the aching muscle feeling. He reached out again, gripping the inside of the curve carefully and giving a steady yank, finding the tooth came away easily in his grip. " hnph..." Damion examined the tooth and nodded, repeating the process on the opposite side until he had two fangs gripped in his hands. He looked back at the Deep One, holding the fangs up in the air with a puzzled look on his face, as if asking 'these?'. The creature nodded slowly, the hood dipping some with the motion before it motioned for Damion to come out, the once elemental exiting the Hydra's mouth swiftly. His footsteps were fluid, barely splashing in the water, sounding more like water dripping than someone stomping down into water.

Glancing down at his left hand, Damion saw the tooth held there still bleeding, a rivult of the red stuff running down the creamy white blade to drip from the tip. " Frag...." He jumped, looking around swiftly before realising the voice was his own, the first intelligble noise he'd made since he woke up. His lips split in a smile, white teeth revealed in the darkness, his antifreeze eyes glowing brighter as his mood brightened. The Deep One began to walk towards the end of the Cathedral, the place where Damion had entered from, and he followed behind it without protest.

He could still feel the uncomfortable feeling of the Dagon inside of him, like his stomach was full, and for once it was comforting to him. Damion was led to the thick column that led outside, dim sunlight leaking down from high above, barely illuminating the ground. Thick vines hung down to the very bottom, waiting for Damion to grab hold and climb. " T-thank y-you..." He stuttered out to the Deep One, turning towards it only to find it missing, the robed figure gone and him alone.

Damion frowned abit, looking around slowly before turning back to the vines, walking over to examine it. He pushed his new fangs down into sheaths that seemed to spring from nowhere, careful not to slice his fingers open in the process before he grabbed onto the vines, setting his feet and starting to climb, finding his new muscles well suited for the job, carrying him upwards swiftly until the deep light of the swamp hurt his eyes, although it was no brighter than normal. Eyelids dropped down till he was squinting upwards the last stretch, hands grabbing the lip almost blindly as he lifted himself up and out.

And they were still all there, stretched out infront of him like his own army, their standards lowered in difference, every tribe of troll gathered before him bowed forward, their forheads on the ground, their arms splayed forward to the new king.

" ********?"

With a grunt, he slotted the last log in to place in the floor, standing back to admire his handywork. It had taken him most of the night to gather the 12 logs, each as tall as he was, and well into the day to set them up down here, clearing away the destroyed columns to make up spots for the Logs, creating new indents to stagger each one.

An enemy would never line up perfectly after all.

Damion nodded in his admiration, reaching up to rub his chin for amoment, smelling the tree sap on his fingers before reaching down into the water and rubbing it away, cleansing his fingers of the stickiness. It would be an insult to his Fangs to wield them with dirty hands.

He moved to the entrance of the small room he'd commandeered, reaching down to slide his thumbs over the smooth grips of his blades. Each breath came out measured, a count of three before it was released until it came as instinct, smooth and even from his new lungs. Damion's eyes narrowed until they were half open, an expression of calm boredom stuck on his face. Internally, he counted down to 3 before moving in a black blur, the only noise his skirt rustling through the air.

A sweeping right kick, coming out from the far right then up into the air, driving at head level into the first log with a crack before he launched off it, knives an ivory blur, stabbing out at the log behind him, Damion's body stretched between them to the limit, his stomach muscles stretching before he snapped up, feet kicking him into a flip to smash into a log on the far side of the room, both feet coming up infront of him to slam into the imagined foe, snapping it at the base and sending him cartwheeling to the wall, launching off it in a spin.

His knives hissed through the air, slamming into two of the logs at what Damion imagined was throat level. As he hit the ground, a portion of the ground came up in his hands, a great sledgehammer, to smash into the nearest log, bringing his number down to 6 left. The hammers weight carried him around, and he lept, spinning in a barrell roll fashion through the air, pulling a knife from where it had buried out and around, slicing across the head level of another log, Damion following the spin to kick out into the sternum area of another.

His breathing remained cool an even, the only sounds in the room that of impact and the rustle of his robe. Damion continued his spin and ripped his second knife from the wood, leaping at the last percieved log, landing feat first to bury his knives into where he imagined the collar bone, his grip reveresed on the blades before he launched off again, kicking into the air to come down in a whirling fury, the last three 'dying' in a hail of cuts, blades a mellow white blur to his eyes. Splinters fly through the air to fall into the water, droplets raining down through the air where they had clung to Damion's feet.

" Done."

His voice was alive with tension, vocals quivering with barely contained malice and rage, his body shaking with the desire to do it again, to taste the blood of his foes, to know their fear. He wanted to cause that fear, to be the dark shadows in the night, to be the name that mothers told their children to make them behave.

" Yessssss....."

The words hissed from his voice like escaping tea from a kettle, carrying with it the promise of pain and bloodshed. But just as quick as it had come, Damion spun towards the door, the Fangs finding their sheaths, and his feet finding their motion. He would do it all, here in his swamp. For those that entered, he would be unseen death, he would stain the water with their blood and let them know they were not welcome.

" Maybe next time they'll listen and keep away from my bike."

Warm blood cooled on the wet ground, steam rising where the tempature shot up to appropiate levels. The stench was unimaginable, robbing one of appetite, but then what could you expect from troll blood? Damion sighed, pulling an oil stained clothe from one of the side bags on the monstrous motorcycle and began whiping clean his right fang, cleaning the greenish troll blood from it.

His visit to Gambino had been fruitless, and he was still without glasses, but it had let him visit humanity one more time before his guardianship proper and subsequent cutting off from society, atleast until Maximos called him in again for work. Which reminded him, " Where's my phone?" He checked the bag he had removed the rag from, before leaning over the bike to check the other one. Neither possessed the aforementioned cell phone.

" I wonder if he'll be pissed off? Probably not...hope a troll ate it." The elemental chuckled softly as he closed up the bags, gently patting the bike seat as he turned towards the swamp proper," Home sweet home I suppose." Unlike his exit from the swamp, his return would be much more muted, Damion walking in slowly until he got close to a canal. Although, he did enjoy alittle fun in life, and the benefits of living in a Swamp included tall trees next to your watering holes.

With an almost eerie speed, he scrambled up the tree, fingers finding handholds they might have missed before his change, taking him up and up and up until he stood a good 20 feet from the ground, perched precariously on the joint between branch and tree, a subtle groaning and creaking coming from the wood below his feet. A suicidal grin spread on his face, adrenaline poured through his veins like fire, and he slowly began to move forward, feet shuffling along the branch, his arms outstreched to maintain balance. He stood above the water, looking down into its' dark depths.

" BONSAI!!!" a leap, a rustle, a crack of wood, and down he dove, arms out wide to either side as he body first arced up into the air before beginning his descent, head towards the water, arms shifting to point straight down. And with a muted splash, he slipped into the water like an arrow, feet disappearing below the surface and his body lost to the swamp as he shot away below it's now rippling surface.

He didn't pay much attention to where he was swimming too, simply swam, the skirt wrapped around his legs to make him more torpedo like, the waters pushing him along the same way a hotwheels car went around the track, moving him forward through the darkness. It was peaceful down here, and with no one to bother him he could work on his water element abit, harness it alittle more than he was now.

The problem, or so Damion thought, was that his two elements were exact opposites in their physical states, and so the concept of control was different. With earth it was a simple matter of force, you MAKE the earth do what you want, but water was something different he couldn't put his finger on. It was fluid, changing, and thus it was hard to make it conform to one shape for long without losing focus of its purpose.

What he was doing now was easy, a simple circulation in a larger body of water was nothing, but if he wanted to do more it would require a fair bit of practice. He dipped his body slightly, going deeper in the water to avoid smashing into a catfish before rising swiftly again, resuming his mostly straight line.

All things with time he supposed.

They danced around one another, two humanoid forms caught in a tangle of their own making. Spinning, whirling, gliding along they fought one another, a back and fourth came of cat and mouse in the perpetual twilight of the swamp. Their passing disturbed birds, scattered leaves, sent small animals running as one would gain the upper hand one moment only to lose it the next. The struck with fists and feet, swords and shields, hammers and flails, pulling them fourth from the ground and water. Dead wood shattered under their feet, sending splinters up into the air.

As they fought closer and closer to the water, the more they would disengage, the dark skinned humanoid leaping into shadows, hiding himself, and making the black one follow him in. At times they would disappear from normal sight, the sounds of their clashing bodies and weapons the only indicator of their passage.

At long last they burst fourth, a short trail of pure blackness following them, the dark skinned humanoid gripping the black ones arms, a thick bladed curved sword clutched in it's hands. They hit ground on an island, rolling for amoment before they split, leaping away in a flurry before rushing back again. A high blow ended it all, the large curved sword cutting high as Damion dropped and came up in a rising uppercut, an ivory comma clutched in his hand, cutting through the watery neck of his practice dummy, the construct falling to the ground in a rush, water spreading out below it.

Sweat ran down his face in near rivers and his breath was like the bellows, but his smile remained undiminished, a slash of white on his face. This had been an expirement, a test. It had been hard getting the construct to operate without his direct guidance, but he had done it. Already he felt the dull ache of a headache starting, pulsing with his veins, and the dull ache in his stomach that told of hunger. The rocks that had made up his construct melted back into the ground of the island as Damion started walking towards home, his Fangs sinking back into their sheaths.

He ran a hand over his body slowly, feeling the sweat acumulating on his hand and leaving his body dry behind it. Sweat was water still after all, and soon he had a baseball sized ball of it in his right hand, letting it drop back into the canals as he leapt from cypress root to cypress root, feeling the sweat start to build up again. It made him glad he hadn't worn his vest, it might have ruined it.

Despite his own internal musings, Damion could not mistake the noise of paddling for anything else, the rythmic splashing to familiar to be anything different to his ears. He froze, the picture of stillness as he cast his feelings into the aether of his swamp, feeling for the boat until he found it. With a splooshing noise, he sank into the water headfirst, letting the current carry him before he began to direct himself, zeroing in on the boat.

" We'll get that Hydra this time."

The voice was warbled under the water, and it was hard to understand, but Damion could still hear it, rough with a southern accent and likely years of smoking. The grey form of the boat was directly above him now, and he swam upwards, latching on to the bottom silently, his finger tips resting on the fiberglass bottom. It wasn't a large boat, but bigger than he could tip. A slow shift turned him around towards the spot that would hold a motor, the spot empty and perfect for peeking out.

His head slowly rose out of the water, just enough for his eyes to clear, and he peeked up at the three men in various states on the boat, one sitting, another crouched and yet another standing, an odd looking hunk of metal held in his hands. The guardian frowned and sank back down, drifting along under the boat as the paddles came down again, reaching out and grabbing hold of one before it could come back out of the water.

Onboard the boat, the men stopped talking for amoment, looking into the water before the rower stood up," Frag, must have gotten it stuck in some weeds." He gave a small jerk with both arms, hands clasping the oar tightly, before his jerk was returned, yanking him off and into the water, dragged beneath the surface as his friends cried out and began reaching for weapons. Alligator attacks are seldom quite, and thus there was alot of splashing made, despite the fact that the man had died the minute he hit the water, throat cut by the sharp bone Fangs.

" s**t! Oh s**t Jimmy!" a rattle of gunfire sent bullets scattering through the water, small spouts trailing them. Damion smirked under the water, hearing the cries of fear as he moved to the prow, slipping up and over swiftly, his fangs clutched tightly in his hands as he drove them into the back of his neck target, hooking them in the rib cage and yanking him backwards. He struck in a frenzy, the dark water turning darker with blood, feeling his knives rip flesh away, tasting the diluted blood on his tongue. It felt so good to let go like that, and the knowledge that he had one more filled him with joy.

More bullets rained down into his water realm, and Damion let the body go to float to the surface, the flesh of its' stomach waving like tatter cloth in the currents. His last target would require special care, and He kicked off the bottom of the boat for the bottom, clambering along like a malformed monkey, speeding up until he had reached the first bend in the river, knowing that the last man would follow the flow of the water. Out he climbed, clambering swiftly up the nearest tree until he had reached the first branch, hiding against it's bark. He could see the man with the gun, peering downwards into the water in the middle of the boat.

Perfect.

The boat passed soundlessly beneath his tree, the mans harsh breathing the only sound left in the swamp, rising like the sweetest chorus to Damion's ears. The bark crunched as he dove off, driving like an Arrow towards the man, his knives aimed forward, tips driving into the soft flesh of the other mans chest, rupturing out his back in a spray of blood as the gun went off between them, filling the boat bottom full of holes as Damion stabbed again and again, blood flying high into the air to come back down across his bare torso, running down the outside of the boat and pooling in the bottom as water rushed in through the holes, their vessel slowly sinking as Damion finally stepped back, panting heavily.

His ivory knives gleamed with wet, sticky blood, droplets dripping from their tips as it ran down his arms, painting his body in red as the body of his prey slipped into the water, an expression of shock permanent on it's face. " No ******** you..." He got out between puffs, looking around slowly before he slipped back into the water himself, swimming for home, his veins singing with adrenaline and the sweet taste of power.