Narrative
It reminds me very much of paint, the way your blood splatters across the dirt. You are thrashing, crying, trying with little effect to get away. Didn't you know this is what would happen were you to cross me?
All who are in my way shall die. I thought I made that very clear.
I wasn't always this way, of course. Every creature has their own story, and I am no exception. Let me tell you a wondrous tale before you die. It'll be the best story you've ever heard.
You see, I am far older than any feline you have ever met. I lived during the very uprising of the felines, the overthrowing of the dragons. They were the best times I've ever seen, with the dragons in oppression. We bound their wings, and forced them to remain in their hume forms.
Feline claws are one of the few weapons that can break a dragon's scales. I tested that theory myself. I spent my life in servitude to the feline prince, and I loved every second of it. He was what you would call a cruel prince, constantly on the hunt for dragons to destroy.
We were tired of being the oppressed, and we wanted a taste at being the oppressors.
Stop bleeding and pay attention.
Any rage we had at the dragons for being unjust rulers was released during our uprising. We overthrew the dragon royalty, held their king in chains for many years.
I died before the dragons would overthrow us once more. You see, my liege always had this strange fascination with dragon blood. I suppose he enjoyed the beauty of it as it shimmered in the moonlight. He got his claws dirty many a time, but one night he ordered me to do so as he watched. It was a normal night.
It was raining of course. How cliché is that?
...I'll take that pained grunt as an agreement.
We heard of a female dragon taking refuge from the rain in one of our warehouses. Naturally, my liege saw it as another opportunity to play. These dragons were his bits of string. He gave me the kill order, and so, I dragged my claws across her throat.
Then I was dead. Our eyes connected for a fraction of a second, and I was on the ground, writhing. I'm sure you know already, because of the fire you tossed at me, but all creatures are born with some sort of unique weapon. This dragon could kill with a single glance.
Well obviously, since I'm here right now sitting on top of you, that wasn't the extent of her ability.
She killed me, yes. And then she cursed me with life.
Yes, I know, it sounds so overdone, doesn't it? Cursed to live forever in a body that never changes. Well, I had the time of my life with this curse.
First I killed my liege, angry that after I fell he simply ordered death on the young dragon and walked away. He left me writhing and bleeding without a second glance. He had to die.
I thought that I could make that war so much more interesting that way. With the feline prince dead, the felines would be in a frenzy. The dragons could choose that moment to break the bonds that held their wings and crush the felines.
My plan worked. There was so much death, and I could do nothing but laugh, perched upon my throne of corpses.
But after a while, the dragons ruling got boring once more. The felines were exiled to the mountains, canines at their backs and dragons at their front. We merged back into the shadows for many centuries... and believe me, shadow is so boring after a while.
But the feline king had another son, one he kept hidden during all of the uproar of the feline uprising. This son had a son, who also had a son, and though the royal blood has diluted somewhat, it all comes down to Lezylea.
Oh, for the love of Seraphi, stop with your moaning.
I'm trying to finish my story.
......................................
Felines living in exile. How dull. It became time to stir things up once more. Get those dragons turning to crystal again. Maybe have some serpent carcasses and yes, lets definitely bring in those poor, oppressed salamanders.
I knelt before Lezylea, a poor replica of his ancestors. He has little left of the royal blood's physical traits left, but his eyes remain the same. He also holds his wings, transparent, fragile little things. I remember my liege's wings - they were thick, large, nothing but muscle and skin. These wings look useless, flimsy. Can they hold his weight for more than three seconds? Only royal and noble felines had wings. It appears soon even the royal felines will have none. I'll be the only winged feline left soon.
Oh my, this heir is so small. He looks as though he could never defend himself in battle. We sit in a small cabin, a reminder to me that the last time I knelt before any creature I could call my lord, it was in the crystal castle of the dragons.
I introduce myself, prepared for a long, elaborate tale of how I died defending his ancestors. Lies weaved within lies. But I did not expect, before I had the chance to speak further, "I know who you are, Fyeha."
I've lived for so long, I became used to every word coming from any creature's mouth as redundant, dull.
As soon as he said that, I knew this would be fun.
Playing: Death is the Great Leveller
Name: Fyeha 
