Welcome to Gaia! ::

Toronal flew over the tan rocks on the mountain side. His auburn wings flapped at a lazy pace, providing enough power and lift to keep him gliding over the thermals. It was rapture to him. The midday sun sent its warm rays of light at the land below, illuminating everything he could see. Behind him rested two Lammasu at the ornate temple gates, but he did not care. He was in the sky.

His golden eyes watched the rocks and spires as they zoomed below him. Each one had a story, and each one was beautiful. He smiled softly as he continued to fly on. His tail twitched at every breeze, stabilizing the flight.

Almost there, thought Toronal. He followed the curves of the rocky mountain, enjoying the sanguine flight. The distant voices of the tribe near the summit drifted down the mountain side, echoing off the rocky walls.

“Guide us. Teach us. Help us. Heal us. We are humble under you. Our ears listen always. Shield us, give us strength.” Toronal hummed along the melody. It was peaceful and serene, quite fitting for the deserted mountain. He increased the pace of his flying around a particularly tight corner, straining his wings to make the sharp turn. It was one of his more favored parts of this flight path; turns were always fun. Finally, he saw his goal.

Sitting in the sun free of shade was the surface of a large limestone slab. With a great laugh, he flew down to the surface. With a graceful landing, Toronal pranced on the surface a bit. He saw the tall, rocky spires that rose from the ground below. Their rough surfaces made beautiful shadows in the setting sun according to Toronal. When they cast long shadows on the slabs of stone behind him, they made the earth seem like it was showing off its fangs. The western side of the slab was open and free, boasting a stunning landscape of the valley and paths below. The main rocky path winded up the mountain like a string on a hill, and it was clear and visible from Toronal’s lofty perch. With a content smile, Toronal lied down on the western side of the platform. His eyes grew heavy in the warmth of the sun, and Toronal slowly fell asleep.

He dreamed of life, a life filled with his tribe’s love and respect. He dreamed of himself standing in front of the temple doors, bigger and stronger. His mane was flapping in the wind as he roared. The females watched him from afar, amazed by his strength and power.

Soft clop-clop sounds invaded his dream, causing Toronal to awaken. He lazily opened his right eye, seeing if the source of the sound was visible. Alas, it was not. He shut the eye, and then yawned lazily. Standing up, he began stretching. His feathered lion tail stuck out as his wings opened to their full span. His rough tongue rolled out of his open mouth as his claws extended and stretched. He looked around the landscape, trying to locate this slightly alien sound. It was like a cub running on a gravel patch, but no cubs were allowed this far away from the tribe. It was almost like stone walking on stone. How odd, thought Toronal, that isn’t any sound I know.

His ears twitched as he tried to locate the sound. It was steadily getting louder, but echoed too much to pinpoint a specific location. He could only hazard a guess that it was down the mountain slope, most likely on the path. His heart fluttered a bit as a reckless idea popped into his mind; what if it was a human?

He grinned at the prospect. If it was human, then this would be the first human for generations! It was splendid news. He quickly did a small jump of joy before falling to the platform. His tail swished playfully as his butt was raised in the air. He was in a pouncing position as he prepared to watch the landscape for any trace of a human. The clop-clop sounds were persistent and rhythmic, but the source was not seen. Over time, the sun began to set. Toronal’s playful curiosity was replaced with impatience. His butt rested on the ground as he watched the path below.

As the sun was halfway behind the distant horizon, a shadowed figure stepped around the closest bend. He was wearing a white linen robe that had patches of dirt and sand stuck on it, tarnishing its previously brilliant luster. The figure walked on two feet. His dark hair flapped over his face, concealing his features. Even though Toronal did not see the entity’s face, he could easily presume that it was a human based on the temple drawings. The figure was still too far away to get a clear aura reading, so Toronal waited. He was supposed to repel those who did not have the virtues of compassion or the vices of wrath in their auras. Something about pure good or evil, but the pure part was mainly just a human exaggeration. No one was pure, so the Lammasu had to compromise.

He peered his eyes and focused on his aura sight. The man was almost close enough for him to feel. Toronal willed the man to move faster, but he did nothing to betray his presence. Just a few more seconds, and – ah hah! Toronal saw the man’s aura reveal itself. At first, it shimmered into a dark grey aura, but it soon withered into an obsidian mass of wrath. For a moment, Toronal gawked. He had never seen anything’s aura so malicious. It was almost sickening to look at. The closer the man got, the more and more Toronal realized that this cruel man was a danger to himself and his fellow Lammasu. He crept backwards on his belly, trying to stay out of sight. When he could not see the man past the ledge, Toronal leaped into the air. His wings flapped heavily as they tried to catch the last thermals of the day.

He managed to get a little lift before he felt a piercing pain erupt in his left wing. A roar of agony echoed around the mountain as he fell from the air. His left wing did not respond to his attempt to stabilized the descent, and for the first time in his memory, Toronal truly fell. A cold, numbing paralysis spread from the pain in his left wing across his body. His head was unaffected long enough for him to catch a glimpse of what caused this horrific pain before he crashed on the path below. It was a small point of a strange green metal connected to a shaft of what appeared to be wood.

He tried to shut his eyes in pain, but they did not close. He tried to stand up, but his legs did not move. He tried so hard to get away, but he could not. He was trapped in his own limp body. Luckily, his eyes could move, and they looked around as much as they could. He felt the man in the white robe approach him, and his golden eyes locked onto the silhouette. Toronal heard a cold chuckle from the man, one that sent chills into his numb bones.

“Well, what do we have hear? A winged lion?” The man bent down to Toronal’s paralyzed body. He pushed the heavily muscled creature a bit. From far away, a response came.

“Aye, sir. A Lammasu of the mountain tribe. Just what we wanted.”

“Good, good.” The man nodded before standing up. He rested his hands on his hips as he looked around the path. “This will lead to the temple where there should be at least two more.”

Toronal felt a sudden wave of dread and realization flow over him. He was going to be taken. He was going to leave the mountain. And he was not the only one. He struggled against the paralysis even more, determined to get up and disable these men before they could harm the temple or the tribe. It was his duty, the job he dreamed about well before his mane grew in. It was his purpose! But he could not control his body any more. He was stuck and he could not get free.

A man with a dark crimson aura held an arched piece of wood in one hand. It was a bow, Toronal thought. A weapon that fired little things at other humans. Weren’t they called arpols? Masters of killing from afar? He felt a new fear creep up. This man probably shot him down. Toronal felt hatred and anger rise up in his mind. These men attacked a legitimate guardian of the temple! Have they no respect for the sanctity of the pantheon?

The crimson-aura man led a pair of donkeys hooked up to a large wooden wagon to Toronal. Without a word, the two men rolled the Lammasu onto the back of the wagon using a crude ramp. If Toronal felt pain, he was sure he’d faint from it. He saw his wing crumple under his weight as they rolled right over it. When successfully on the wagon, the crimson-aura man whacked both donkeys on their backs, causing them to trot forward with a clop-clop sound. At least Toronal’s curiosity was fulfilled.

The ride was rough and bumpy. Toronal kept a watch on the men’s auras. If they were going to do anything, he’d know. The night seemed to shift and change at every glance. The shadows cast by the silvery moon drew images of knives and blades on the ground, and the air was humid with a slight iron taste, like blood. It was nauseating, but Toronal could not vomit. He was helpless in his frozen state.

After what seemed like hours, the two men and the Lammasu reached the final stretch of the pathway to the Temple. As always, two Lammasu stood guard at the doors. On the left was a small Lammasu by the name of Kaeri. She was quick and agile, one of the best fliers of the tribe. On the right was a large, powerfully-built Lammasu known as Orison. He was a wonderful warrior and known throughout the tribe for his amazing strength and stamina. Both Lammasu were resting on the ground and looked up as the two men approached them. Toronal was left a little distance away, but he could see the events occur from his location.

Both Kaeri and Orison stood slowly. Each watched the two men with a mix of curiosity and mild disgust. However, their aura sensing ability showed them a third behind them. Kaeri peered past the humans. When she saw a bleeding Toronal on a cart, her eyes flew open in shock. Immediately, she lept into the air and flew off to the summit of the mountain. She vanished from sight rapidly as Orison stepped forward, puffing out his muscular chest. In a deep, echoing voice, he spoke. “Halt travelers.”

The white-clad man grinned at this. He glanced to the bowman before responding. In a sinister voice, he rebuked “I suggest that you should halt, Lammasu.” With the last syllable, the bowman quickly fired another pointed stick at Orison, piercing him in the shoulder. He staggered back after a deep, resonating roar of pain. Now glaring at the two humans, he charged them with his fangs bared. Fear flickered in the bowman’s aura before he fired a second arrow. It pierced his other shoulder, causing him to fall to the ground mid-charge. He bared his teeth and growled at the two humans before the paralysis spread to his face. When his expression went limp, he still showed undeniable hate in his golden eyes. Small pools of crimson began to form under Orison’s pierced shoulders.

“He took two arrows and still tried to fight. How brave of him.” The bowman mockingly bowed to the Lammasu before chuckling. “I think the donkeys can carry a little more weight, sir.”

“Good, good. They will need to.” The white-clad man laughed as he turned to face Toronal. He grinned in an unnaturally malicious manner. His voice seemed to echo around Toronal as he spoke. “After all, we need to get to the Tribe.”

Toronal’s eyes grew wide in shock and fear. They were going after the rest of the Lammasu? They could not do that! It was heresy! It was blasphemy! It was malicious! They simply couldn’t! The two men rolled Orison down the slope a bit, stopping at the base of the wagon. Orison seemed unusually bloody and wounded. He took two of those things to go down. I only received one. He must be worse off, realized Toronal.

The donkeys struggled to move the cart, but the bowman wouldn’t relent. He kept hitting them to propel them up the mountain. Toronal felt a stab of sympathy for the beasts of burden. He knew he was heavy, and Orison was even bigger than himself. They must weigh a great deal.

The ride was bumpy, but everything seemed to take an otherworldly quality to it. The shadows followed the man in white and the bowman, like flies followed meat. The stars darkened in the sky, leaving the solitary and silvery crescent moon truly alone in the sky. The clomp-clomp sound faded with the stars, only allowing Toronal to hear the beat of his own panicked heart. It was a period of suspense for Toronal.

After what felt like hours, the group reached a final path. It felt familiar to Toronal, like he had been here before. After a brief moment, it hit him; this path led into the tribe! It seemed so much smaller in the air, but Toronal was sure. They were headed for his tribe.

Out of the shadows of the spire stepped around a dozen people. Some were dressed in brown robes. Some were dressed in leather. But all of them had dark, sinister auras. Toronal watched each person’s shadowed face carefully and fearfully. They were here to do a job, and Toronal began to believe that they would carry it out.

The white-clad man strode toward the newcomers and whispered a few things to them. The robed men nodded before gesturing toward the sky. Toronal saw their aura’s fluctuate as tendrils of energy flew out of them. The energy formed a web over the humans, sealing them in a mystical field. Toronal could only guess what the magic would do. The leather-clad men pulled out scimitars from unseen locations. Each blade shimmered in the light of the crescent moon. Toronal did his best to shut his eyes, but he still could not. He could not stand to see them prepare to kill his own people.

The group did not bring Toronal or Orison up the last part of the path. Toronal did not know whether or not to be glad. He would not see the carnage, but his mind would re-create it. The group turned and vanished from sight ahead. Toronal knew that it would not take long for the attack to begin. And he was right.

Roars of Lammasu rang through the air. The whoosh of fire was heard amongst the shouts of arcane words, the battle cries of humans, and the screams of agony. Toronal prayed and prayed that his tribe was safe. Shield us, give us strength. Shield us, give us strength. Shield us, give us strength . . .

Toronal prayed and prayed, but he could not prevent himself from hearing the death roars of the Lammasu. He could not prevent himself from envisioning the horrors that were occurring over the bend of the path. He could not prevent the massacres of the cubs, the killing of the warriors, or the murders of the elders. He was helpless, and he knew it.

Minutes of battle passed, then hours. Screams, roars, shouts, and cries filled Toronal’s ears as his mind was filled with images of slaughter. He spoke his prayer, but it felt trivial and useless. The deities would not shield their guardians in an onslaught. He felt his faith waver and then shatter. His hopes were broken. His heart was demolished.

As the last Lammasu cried out before its death, Toronal wept. Tears dripped down his face and into his mane. It was not dignified. But I am no guardian of the Temple. I have no honor. Dignity be damned, thought Toronal.

The group of humans turned the corner. A few leather-clad men seemed injured, but they were still standing strong. There were less robed men, but those that remained seemed joyous and happy. The white-clad man separated from the group as he walked toward the wagon. Grinning, he bent down in front of Toronal.

“Little Lammasu, you are the last of your tribe.” With a wicked chuckle, he poked Orison. His eyes were closed, and he showed no sign of pain or discomfort. No, no, no . . .

Toronal felt a new wave of tears flow down his face. He looked mournfully up at the man. The bowman wandered over. When he saw the crying Lammasu, he grimaced. “That is no way for a failed guardian to act.”

He spat at Toronal. His aura seemingly danced with joy. With a swift and unseen move, the bowman smacked Toronal alongside the head. All Toronal felt was blackness in his mind. For a moment, he was at peace.

He woke up at the sound of wood and stone rubbing together. Toronal looked around himself, fearful of where he was. All he saw was shadow and darkness around him. Toronal frowned at the setting. He did not remember how he got here. In fact, he did not remember –

The previous night’s events flooded his mind. The death of his tribe, the capture of himself and Orison, the bowman and the white-clad man, they were all remembered at once. Toronal tried to let out a cry of anguish, but his throat did not work. In fact, he couldn’t even open his mouth. The paralysis persisted.

Mentally cursing, Toronal tried to look toward the source of the rubbing sound. A small doorway was open, revealing two men. They seemed familiar to Toronal, and then he realized that these two were the white-clad man and the bowman. Toronal did his best to snarl, but he could not. However, the white-clad man seemed to get the meaning.

“Calm down, Lammasu. We wouldn’t want last night’s massacre to repeat in this room, would we?” The man grinned, walking around Toronal. The Lammasu’s golden eyes followed him, intent on not letting him out of his sight.

The man continued to speak. “You see, Lammasu, we realized that you are valuable. More so than you probably realize. We will not want to kill you. At least, not yet.” The man bent down in front of Toronal’s head. He smiled at Toronal’s rage-filled eyes. “Your paralysis would fade away within the day, as your numbness has. But would you really try to attack us? If you tried, I would understand. We killed your tribe. But know that we are stronger than you are, stronger than they were. If you attack us, we will have to kill you like we killed them: without mercy. We are more than capable.”

The man pet Toronal’s head before continuing. “We realize that you are magical, and magical portions of your body are valuable to fellow humans. We have already harvested Lammasu Hearts from your tribe, which will give us a hefty sum of riches. We have skinned them for their tough hides. We have plucked their feathers for arrows. And we plan to do the same to you.”

Toronal felt a mixture of rage and fear swell up inside of him. These men did not just desecrate his tribe’s life, but they desecrated their death as well! Toronal mentally cursed them, but a morose sense of realization flooded his mind: there was no hope. They were stronger than Toronal was. They were smarter. They were better. I can’t stop them.

“We will keep you alive as long as we can. We will send in healers to regenerate what we took from you every night so that we can take them again the next morning. Do not worry, you will not die from this. Pain, on the other hand . . .” The white-clad man trailed off, smiling. He stood up and then walked toward the bowman. Whispering an indistinct order, he left the room and closed the door behind him. All that remained was the bowman, Toronal, and a candle.

“Let’s get started.”

The events that occurred after that line were simply horrendous. The man began by slowly and painfully skinning Toronal alive. The Lammasu’s natural constitution and fortitude kept him alive, but just barely during this. When the majority of his skin was gone, Toronal began to pray again. He knew that no one would answer it, but it distracted his mind enough to prevent him from succumbing to the insanity of the pain. He had to stay strong, but it was unbelievably hard.

The bowman began removing each of Toronal’s feathers slowly and carefully. Those small pin drops of pain began to wear down Toronal’s mental barriers. He hated it, but he could do nothing to prevent it.

Pain kept coming at Toronal, tiring him out. He thought he drifted in and out of sleep, but he could not be too sure. It all blended together, all one horrible moment of agony. His barriers shattered under the pressure, causing his mind to drown in pain.

When he realized the pain was gone, he was alone. The candle had long burnt out, but Toronal did not care. He was alone, alone with the throbbing ache and raw pain of his skinless body. He breathed slowly as he tried to regain some sort of composition, but he felt too light-headed from the blood-loss. When his mind felt like it was about to float away, relief encompassed his body.

Toronal was severely confused about this. Why was he feeling better? For a moment, he thought he was dead. But he still felt pain, so he doubted that.

“Come on . . . come on . . . regenerate!” The muttering of a human near him startled Toronal. He felt an aura, but it was unlike any human he had seen before. It was pale, and had an azure tint to it. He was a kind and gentle person, but a confused one; a man who saw the wound and not the wounded. His aura flowed over Toronal’s damaged body. The waves of mystical energy brought relief and peace to the damaged body. In their wake grew patches of bald skin, and then fur. On the wings, feathers began to grow outward.

After minutes of the man’s magic, Toronal’s body was regenerated fully. He felt only lingering aches in his muscles and mind, but was grateful to the healer. When he looked at the healer’s unfocused eyes, Toronal felt a twinge of worry. However, the door opened again, revealing the bowman’s silhouette. The healer turned around sharply, and then rose.

“I healed him, but it was hard.” The healer gestured toward the repaired Lammasu.

“Good, good. We appreciate it, we really do.” The man’s aura was oddly truthful, but it still had deceit in it. Toronal was confused, but listened on.

“The man did not speak. Is he a mute?” The healer inquired. Toronal felt a twinge of confusion; he was no man.

“Alas, no. He is just a quiet fellow.” The bowman nodded his head, then smiled. “Shall I show you out?”

“That would be very appreciated.” The healer bowed graciously before stepping out of the doorway. He looked at Toronal, and then nodded. “He should be fine.”

“Thank you again.” The bowman smiled at the healer before shutting the door. Toronal was now severely worried and confused. Why wasn’t the healer appalled at what happened to Toronal? Why was Toronal called a man? This didn’t make sense. None of it made sense. And yet it was real. So real.

Toronal contemplated his own thoughts for an unknown amount of time. He was alone again, alone in the dark room. When the bowman came in to remove Toronal’s skin and feathers, Toronal did not object. He did not care. There was no hope left in Toronal. He was an empty shell that was a factory of magical portions. Nothing more, nothing less.

For what felt like years, Toronal was tortured and healed in a cycle. He grew accustomed to the pain, but he never was use to the relief. At night, he’d dream of his tribe. When awake, he’d question if he could have done anything different to prevent the disaster that haunted his dreams. Over time, he deteriorated mentally and emotionally. Over time, he stopped being a Lammasu and became an object.

The repeating pattern of pain and comfort was broken. Instead of the bowman, the white-clad man entered the room. He wore his malicious grin as always as he knelt down in front of Toronal. Letting the Lammasu drink in his aura, the man slowly and articulately began to talk to Toronal.

“Bad news, Lammasu. Really bad news. We can not afford to keep healing you after every harvest. You are going to either have to find a way to survive on your own, or die.” The man shrugged slightly before petting Toronal. “We are going to harvest as usual, so keep your life in check. We wouldn’t want you to die. That would be a waste of time.”

Toronal watched the man with bland eyes. The man sighed heavily. “Don’t look at me like that, Lammasu. It isn’t my fault. I was merciful to you. I kept you alive, but I can not do that forever. I wish you luck.” He grinned maliciously before standing up.

“Oh, and do try and be a good Lammasu.” With those words, he turned and left the room. The bowman stood at the doorway with his knife in hand. The torture began anew, but Toronal did not care. He knew he would die in this room by the bowman’s hand. Letting the darkness creep into his sight, Toronal prepared to rest. However, something unexpected happened.

In the inner reaches of Toronal’s mind came the prayer of the Lammasu. It felt foreign to him, like a forgotten friend. The words echoed in the expanse of his pain-filled mind, giving him a little strength for the end. He found his morals and virtues in the prayer. The righteousness of the song overwhelmed Toronal for a moment before he realized what it truly was; a prayer not only to gods, but to the worshipper. It was a prayer for guidance and strength. Toronal began to join into the prayer, and for the first time in years, he felt a path ahead of him: he would not rest until he righted the wrongs committed on his tribe and mankind as a whole.

Shield me, give me strength . . .

Name Shedin
Gender Male
Abilities

Aura Sight, "Vita Visus" [Ghost Baby]
Basics
The ability to sense auras, which show basic motivators (malicious, helpful, fear), as well as emotions (anger, joy, anticipation). The hue of the aura helps demonstrate the general alignment of the character. (dark is more 'evil', also know as destructive and malicious; pale is more 'good', also known as more caring and peaceful.). Aside from that, he can utilize the auras to tell who is lying to him, who is truthful. He doesn't need to see the being with his eyes to use this ability; it is a sense separate from his eyes that is always active and scanning all around him. It can penetrate a reasonable amount of wood, paper, metal, stone, and other materials. The older he gets, the more precise the 'sight' is, allowing Shedin to pinpoint specific creatures that he can't even see. When reaching the Teen stage, Shedin gains enough proficiency to follow the power from a person when he or she uses magical gifts. In essence, he can see the energy flow from a person into an arcane or natural effect.

There are common colors, pattern, textures, and motions associated with auras and the characters whom they belong to. Generally, pale hues are those of people who are compassionate and caring, sympathetic and kind. Darker hues belong to those who are more violent, aggressive, apathetic, or sadistic. Warm hues belong to those who are active and dominant. In other words, warm hues are to those that are social, bold, strong, or forceful. The cool hues correspond to people who are passive, submissive, manipulative, subtle, or thoughtful.

People who are experiencing vivid or powerful emotions often have their auras leap about them, powered by the emotional energy. Positive emotions, such as joy or love, radiate outward with waves of energy. Neutral emotions, such as surprise or panic, are jagged and sharp, like emotional knives. Negative emotions, such as anger or hate, are rippling and undulating.

Intents follow slightly different patterns than emotion or personality. They are not easily classified, ranging from how the aura flows to where the aura reaches. Mostly, it is an intuitive (and almost always accurate) feeling about why the person did something, is doing something, or is plotting something. Basic intents are: deceit, lie, harm, surprise, create happiness, truthful, and desperate, amongst others. Most people tend to use a combination of the basic intents. However, the more Shedin focuses on an aura, the clearer the intent becomes, often specifying to the subject of the intent, more detail about the intent, and so forth.

Auras are blocked by about an inch or more of lead, a couple inches of other metals, quickly moving objects, about a foot of solid wood, and heavy electrical discharge. He can clearly feel auras to about sixty feet, but they blur and fade the further away. He tends to be unable to feel auras up to 120 feet away, but he could try hard to see beyond this field. If he does a relaxing and peaceful breathing exercise (or other methods of relaxation), his aura sight is greatly weakened to about a ten-foot radius and barely any details. In his teenage and above years, he utilizing his relaxation rituals when conversing with people, allowing him to act more normally and seeing more clearly in an idle chat.

Weaknesses
Since the Lammasu is sensitive to the auras of others, and that he died in the presence of a man who's own energy was tainted with malice, the ability didn't quite translate well over the Spell. Shedin, when 'seeing' a powerful emotion or aura, might gain a headache, pain in the heart, or even sickness. When in the presence of a powerful negative emotion for an extended period of time, Shedin would grow a fever, feel extremely nauseous and fatigued, and most likely faint. Since he can not turn off his sight, he must control who he is around or else there could be serious side effects.

Roar, "Belua Vox" [Baby]
Basics
The belua vox is a roar inherited from his lion-like past. In fact, it isn't magical in practically any way, except the posibility that magic makes it so loud and so wild. Other than that, it is a really deep, loud, lion-like roar. Shedin almost always refrains from using it unless he looses control over his vibrant emotions, especially anger, rage, pain, panic, and the other negative emotions. It is quite loud, louder than he could scream off the top of his lungs.

Weaknesses
The roar often makes his throat very sore afterward, and robs him of his ability to vocalize for hours. He can make soft, hissing sounds, but other than that, well, he is mute. He could only make another roar, which prolongs the return of his voice even further.

Breath of Flame, "Calefacio Pulmo" [Teenager]
Basics
This ability, gained at the Teenager stage, grants Shedin with the reflexive ability to exhale sharp bursts of flame. The flame is of a golden hue, and often comes out in small orbs that quickly dissipate. When in the Youth or Adult stage, he might be able to prolongue the flame from his mouth, but he would need to constantly exhale sharply for each flame.

Weaknesses
Since it is hardly a big bad breath of fire, Shedin's calefacio pulmo would rarely be used as a weapon; Shedin would use it as a last resort due to bad experiences with it. Whenever his body would release a sharp exhale of air, fire would roar out of his open mouth. For example, if he coughed into his hands, flames would sear his skin. More rare is when he sneezes flame, which would happen when he inhaled too much dust. Mucus in his nose helps smother his flame, but it is almost certain doom to an unsuspecting tissue. Again, since his past life ended in the presence of such a tainted force, Shedin's power warped and shifted from a blast of scorching fire to puffs of little flames that are uncontrolled.

Non-magical Abilities
Shedin would be of above-strength, even though his frail body wouldn't show it. He has a quick and seemingly instinctive dexterity and speed that also is betrayed by his weak appearance. Mentally, he learns and retains information quite easily. Also, he has a powerful sense of wisdom and potent skills in logic. These abilities are reminiscent of the lion, eagle, and human portions of his past life.
Race/Species/Element Lammasu, a winged lion with the face of a man.
Information on their previous life See above posts, please.
Personality from baby to adult

General
He is a calm, quiet, intellectual. He analyzes before acting, thinking before speaking, and reasons before judging (usually). He enjoys light, cheerful colors and spaces while disliking dark, enclosed areas. Due to his ability to see general auras, he tends to gain headaches around people who are experiencing strong emotions. Positive emotions (such as joy, love, and so forth) do not effect him as strongly as negative emotions (such as hatred, rage, etc.). This causes him to avoid people who have bright, bold personalities and vivid moods. When encountering someone experiencing a powerful emotion, he may grow sick, even to the point of vomiting and other horrid side effects. Since this penalty is felt with his own emotions as well, Shedin has practiced early-on emotional control. This gives him the demeanor of a meek, mild, average, and somewhat boring person. Contrary, however, he often warring with himself to restrain his naturally vibrant and vivid emotions that could cause him to be quite nauseous.

Aside from his superficial personality, Shedin has a natural empathy based on his Aura Sight. Since he doesn't need to have his eyes on the person, or even to be looking at the person for his power to work, he tends to know that this person or that animal around the corner or in the other room is in pain or discomfort. That might have seemed confusing, but think of his Aura sight as a sense, one that doesn't actually require sight. This gave him an almost otherworldly quality which often repelled a lot of potential friends.

He tends to love silent companionship, similar to when a person basks in another's presence. Since he can feel the other person's emotion and personality, comforting and warm people are always his favorite to be around. At times, he simply wanted to rest and relax with his favorite people. When his peaceful "hang-outs" are disturbed, he acts quite disgruntled and stubborn, upset that he can not continue what he loves. His mood slowly reverts to the previously meek and mild attitude, but some people can not even tell he had a mood swing in the first place.

Shedin has an extremely controlled, and often peaceful, demeanor. He hates it when he looses his grip on his emotions, which makes him seem reserved and possibly even withdrawn. However, once he opens up to someone, he shows a cheerful, humor-loving (but laid-back) aspect that is rarely seen by the average person. This aspect is much easier to be around, as it doesn't feel as stuck-up nor cautious.

He is a very organized person, labeling and naming everything he owns. When his father tried teaching him Latin as soon as he could (learned from his medical studies), Shedin failed miserably. He didn't have a knack for foreign languages, but he did love the sound of Latin words. So he created horrible translations for all of his favorite pieces of his life, himself, and his environment. By naming them, he imbues them with their own past, their own life, and their own future (of course, all to him. The objects aren't actually living).

Shedin does not like people who's auras are dark or who often experience sickeningly strong emotions. When encountering a person who is either dark or emotional, Shedin often tries his best to leave the proximity. Since most people do not see auras like Shedin does, they often take his sudden dislike and repulsion of a person as bias or prejudice.

16 Personality Traits
WARMTH: [ - - - -

- ]
REASONING: [ - - - - - ]
EMOTIONAL STABILITY: [ - - - - - ]
DOMINANCE: [ - - - - - ]
LIVELINESS: [ - - - - - ]
RULE-CONSCIOUSNESS: [ - - - - - ]
SOCIAL BOLDNESS: [ - - - - - ]
SENSITIVITY: [ - - - - - ]
VIGILANCE: [ - - - - - ]
APPREHENSION: [ - - - - - ]
ABSTRACTEDNESS: [ - - - - - ]
PRIVATENESS: [ - - - - - ]
OPENNESS TO CHANGE:
SELF-RELIANCE: [ - - - - - ]
PERFECTIONISM: [ - - - - - ]
TENSION: [ - - - - - ]

Baby
He seems to be fearful of metallic objects, but otherwise observant and curious. He often would sit back and watch things happen instead of poke and prod. When sleeping, he seems to have nightmares, as he is thrashing about and has an expression of either fear or dislike on his face. However, when he awakes, be doesn't seem disturbed at all and usually remains quiet. He enjoys colors and prisms, watching rainbows dance across the wall on a sunny day, as well as warmth and light. Other than that, he is a typical crying, feed-me baby who seems to want to be taken care of at the most inopportune moment. When encountering a person who has a dark aura, he would most likely burst into tears and try his best to get away. If he encountered a person who was experiencing a potent emotion, Shedin would often just throw up.
Key Traits
Fearful, biased, observant, curious, cautious

Toddler
Shedin is a curious, quiet toddler. He is clever enough to fit blocks into holes and figure out what is red and what is blue, showing a slightly above-average intellect. As well, he seemingly is fearful of miscellaneous people and seems to love others. This disposition is hard to change. He does actively explore, asking questions to those whom he likes. When encountering an unknown object, his first response is to watch it. If he believes it to be dangerous, he ignores it and moves on. If he believes it to be safe, he reaches out and explores it physically. If he is unsure, he calls for help and guidance. If Shedin encounters a person who's aura was dark, he'd try his best to get away as if person had the plague. If a person is experiencing a potently strong emotion, Shedin would back off as much as he could.
Key Traits
Curious, biased, fearful, cautious

Kid
Now entering formal education, Shedin enjoys reading and sitting in the sunlight. He seems to love lounging around and watching his favorite locations, which usually have plenty of light and are quite comfortable. He is still quiet and shy, but he does seem to know who to make friends with. He is discovering the ability to make things, as most children around his age. With this new talent, he found that he enjoys drawing and clay-sculpting, but he has no talent for any drawing artistic outputs. Later on in his Kid stage, he might discover he does have a unique ability with pottery. Shedin seems unconfident with his ability to see auras as he began to wonder if they are telling the truth.
Key Traits
Creative, biased, constructive, relaxed

Teenager
As a teenager, Shedin still remains shy but experienced a large growth-spurt. With his new hormones, he feels more self-conscious than before, and is perfectly content to be by himself in peace with a good book. He excels in his classes, but doesn't seem to care too much about them. As this stage worries about morals and figuring out his place in the world, Shedin is often questioning everything around him. Often, he acts dramatic and poetic, like life is a large stage and he must give a Shakespearean monologue without the Old English. He asks why people do things, why people act against or with other people, and if his aura sight corresponds with any of his current morals. His reflection on his past life made his current life confused and conflicted, as he is debating between trying to figure out how to utilize what he learned from his past life and how to keep up with his current life.
Key Traits
Self-conscious, biased, inquisitive, dramatic, indecisive

Youth
Now seeing his death and the injustice given to his people, as well as figuring out who killed him, Shedin tries to shed his shy demeanor and act as a hero and beacon of justice. He finally processing it and, when leaving his teenage years, told himself that he would be a strong, confident person. However, the past years have not trained him to do so. His previous questioning fades away as he forces himself into a role of confidence and power. Now using his aura sight to the best of his ability, he constantly analyzes people and their auras with suspicion. Of course, this suspicion is hardly seen, as he makes his opinion about the person before they can fully meet.
Key Traits
Biased, confident, bold

Adult
With plenty of time, his morals and ethics harden around his ability to see the auras of those around him. He knows how he should act around people, as he can make a pretty good guess on their character. This makes him silent and seemingly biased. For some, that bias seemed unsettling, as he acts as if he knew you before you knew him. For others, it is a comfort, as he doesn't need petty smalltalk to understand you. He is much more confident in himself at this stage, and surrounds himself with his own "tribe", or group of close friends and family, for support and help. He will protect his "tribe" to the best of his abilities and is loyal to it.
Key Traits
Biased, reserved, confident, loyal

Hair and eye colors His hair is an auburn-brown-gold blend, shimmering in sunlight but a bit bland in other lights. His eyes are bright gold-brown hued, and like the hair, dull in lights that aren't the sun.
Physical description From Wand-Adult

Wand
The wand is a shaft of gold, shimmering brilliantly. On top of the wand is a small pair of folded wings, like those of an eagle's that are of brown to auburn hue. The entire wand has two long, dark ribbons that seem like they'd flutter in the wind, but are completely stiff. The ribbons cross each other as they encircle the wand all the way to the base.

Ghost Baby
The ghost is red-brown. The entire shape is hazy (of course), and ribbons of gold swirl around in the misty form.

Baby
The infant is small and plump with hair sprouting around the head and big ears. His eyes are large and brown-gold, adorable and slightly creepy at the same time. He has small golden patterns and symbols on his arms, like ornate tattoos or designs. He has short, pudgy fingers and loves his red and black clothing. His bare feet are rough on the bottom, simmilar to the pads on a cat's feet. He seems otherwise ordinary.

Toddler
Now with shoes, the Toddler has thick gold-brown hair all around his face. His eyes now seem to fit his head and his skin grows darker. He lost a lot of baby fat, now revealing a thin young boy. He wears a red shirt with dark brown pants and black shoes. The symbols on his arms grow more numerous and complicated, forming a large pattern. His hands now have rough patches on the palms, simmilar to those on his feet.

Kid
The Kid stage is one of his most beautiful, as his hair is now shoulder-length and richly gold and brown. His eyes shimmer brightly, staying the same hue as before. His clothing stays relatively the same: red shirt, brown pants, black suit. The symbols on his arms grew and spread, making it more of a pattern of golden lines woven together. His skin is now a rich tan, accenting the golden marks quite well. His hands are still pudgy and his fingers are still short, but there is little noticeable fat on him. His palms and feet are even rougher, like sandpaper.

Teenager
He obviously had an awkward growth spurt, as he is now tall and gangly. He has a few sparse pimples on his previously beautiful face. His eyes are often looking downward in shame and lack of self-confidence. His shirt now has a logo of his favorite video game and his pants are much baggier. His shoes are still black. The markings on his arms haven't changed very much from his Kid stage. He is still quite tanned. He (as part of the metaphorphasis from his kid to teenager stage) gains two large, feathered wings, similar to those of a Lammasu. They are brown-red in color with specks of gold amongst the soft, fluffy feathers. They seem out of touch with his gangly body, however, as if they were not meant for him.

Youth
Ahh . . . leaving the days of being a teenager. He obviously filled out his previously gangly form, now with broad shoulders. His hair is longer again, but it is tied back into a pony-tail. The wings he has gained from the transition from kid to teenager have lost some of their brown hue, taking on a gold - red mixture. He had a stern, hard face and had slightly more muscle mass than before. He was wearing a short-sleeved crimson t-shirt that had golden bands around the chest and long, dark-brown pants with his favorite black shoes. His skin was more tanned than before. His hands and feet are even rougher and tougher, like callouses.

Adult
Much more sophisticated, the Adult stage has even more muscle mass than the Youth stage (which isn't a lot). He has his hair in the ponytail, and is often seen in a stylish business suit with long, black sleeves and pants with a red and gold tie. His hands, now a dark tan, show a few of the symbols on the back. The wings are folded, revealing gold and auburn feathers that accent his tanned skin and golden symbols quite well.

Distinctive Marks He has many golden markings along his arms and the back of his hands, as well as the base of the neck and upper back. These markings resemble the Akkadian Cuneiform patters seen from his mythological era. When he is a teenager, he accepted wings as a mark of his Lammasu past (because they "look cool") that change from a mixture of brown-red-gold to red-gold over the span of a few stages.
General likes and dislikes He loves books, observing, and sunlight. If it is warm, comfortable, and peaceful, he will most likely enjoy it. His favorite color is gold, and his favorite food is salad, as he detests meat. He hates shiny, silver objects as well as knives, weapons, and meat. He dislikes the color green, and hates eating broccoli. If it is dark, dreary, noisy, or cold, he probably wouldn't like it. Here are some specifics:

Likes
Marbles; Shedin loves rolling marbles around and how they glimmer in light.
Clay; Shedin adores molding clay into what he envisions.
Pottery; Shedin enjoys making pottery.
Warm air; it simply feels good to Shedin.
Sunlight; colors are more vibrant in the sun.
Color; it is beautiful.
Wind; it feels good through his hair.
Golden objects; they shimmer so wonderfully.
Peace; everyone needs a little.
Quiet; everyone wants a little.
Silent companionship; he simply loves being around good folk.

Dislikes
Wet; eww, it is all cold and uncomfortable.
Cold; it just doesn't feel good to Shedin.
Dark; he can not see the pretty colors as well in the dark.
Gloomy; too many negative emotions in a gloomy place.
Stiff; he can not breathe well in a stiff area.
Artificial; the beauty of nature was mechanized out.
Overly emotional people; it gives Shedin headaches.
Unreasonable people; they are stupid and usually overly emotional.
Meat; dead flesh burned to kill any other life it may have? Eww.
Orange Juice; it is all pulpy and cold and it doesn't taste good to Shedin.

Hobbies He loves reading and relaxing, especially in the sun. If he read his most recent books, he loves sitting back and watching people walk by, as long as they do not try to talk too much. He isn't very talented at drawing, but it still entertains him. When he isn't reading, drawing, or watching, he usually plays games with those whom he trusts, weather or not they know it is a game. One of his favorite pastimes is to force trusted people through a filter of hypothetical questions to decipher their philosophy and morals and then compare it to what he guessed the person believed in. Artistically, he loves watercoloring and pottery, but only seems to have an affinity for pottery. Seriously, his watercoloring skills are simply horrid. He has no musical gifts, but he does love listening to Techno and Mozart.

Full Name: Richard Kevin Laer
Age: 36
Height: 6'1"
Gender: Male
Species: Human, Caucasian
Build: Richard appears to be a fit man, as he has little obvious fat. He was past his prime in fitness, and runs every morning to keep his body healthy. After all, what kind of doctor is unhealthy himself? In other words, he has a Medium build.
Eyes: Gray with slight veins of blue and green in each iris. Each eye is large and wide, almost like a child's. This is just how it has been for Richard, and he has to live with the apparent expression of eternal surprise.
Hair: Dark brown with slight light brown highlights. As Richard doesn't care too deeply about his appearance, his hair is usually messy and ungroomed. When he does care about its position, it is often parted. The hair's texture is flat, and it is often somewhat long.
Skin/Face: Richard was blessed with skin that didn't break out in too many pimples during his teenage years. It is soft and smooth, as he has done little physical labor in his lifetime. He does make sure it is clean and maintained, unlike the rest of him. It is Caucasian and slightly tanned.
Personality:

Richard is a soft-spoken man, only bold in his journal which he tries to write in. He has a deep crush on the woman next door to him, which he dares not show. Otherwise, he is sensitive and non-violent, making him a prime target to be bullied. Sometimes, however, he can not quite grasp why people do things, and he hates this feeling. To fix it, he often bugs people about their reasoning, making him a non-popular person. He is very focused on preparations and organization, distrusting and fearing situations/people who do not show a similar trait.
He loves medicine and science, believing them to be supreme forces of reason, life, and logic. He believes that his mystical studies could be classified by these fields of study, and he is constantly analyzing how his abilities effect a person medically. Because of his knowledge, he can utilize the most bang out of his healing spells (but there isn't a lot of bang to use).
Aside from medicine, science, and being shy, Richard loves ancient and dead languages. He often tries to translate old texts into English, expanding his collection of lore and tomes. He is fluent in Greek (especially ancient Greek), Latin, Celtic, and Egyptian. His fascination with ancient civilizations and knowledge is like a hobby for him, and he'd practically swoon when seeing an ancient text.

16 Personality Traits
WARMTH: [ - - - - - ]
REASONSING: [ - - - - - ]
EMOTIONAL STABILITY: [ - - - - - ]
DOMINANCE: [ - - - - - ]
LIVELINESS: [ - - - - - ]
RULE-CONSCIOUSNESS: [ - - - - - ]
SOCIAL BOLDNESS: [ - - - - - ]
SENSITIVITY: [ - - - - - ]
VIGILANCE: [ - - - - - ]
APPREHENSION: [ - - - - - ]
ABSTRACTEDNESS: [- - - - - ]
PRIVATENESS: [ - - - - - ]
OPENNESS TO CHANGE: [- - - - - ]
SELF-RELIANCE: [ - - - - - ]
PERFECTIONISM: [ - - - - - ]
TENSION: [ - - - - - ]
Gifts/Powers/Skills: Richard is hard at work on learning mystical healing, but he is stumbling greatly at it. For now, he can heal bruises, minor cuts, and small injuries with a good deal of energy. He is considered a medical doctor (pediatrician, or so he claims), but after a few years and proper investing, Richard has taken time off from work, unsure of when he will enter the medical field again.
Brief History:

Richard Kevin Laer was born into a well-off, wealthy family as the middle of three siblings. His mother was a Roman Catholic and his father was Buddhist, and so they decided to raise their children free of religious bias. It was hard for the mother, but she knew that too many conflicting aspects of theology could damage a family.

His elder brother, Michael, was a very hard sibling. He picked on Richard and Christine (his younger sister) often in their childhood. In high school, Michael was both Prom King and Football Captain. In this era, he overshadowed his nerdy younger brother and shy younger sister. However, he graduated, leaving the sophomore Richard and freshman Christine a chance to fit into their own groups without their elder brother watching over them. Richard joined science clubs and math groups while Christine participated with English and art classes.

Richard graduated with a 3.8 GPA and a multitude of scholarships to the nearby Harthrum University, which was a renowned medical university. In Harthrum, Richard pursued Neurosurgery as his degree, but he specialized in sanitation and the immune system. After graduation with an internship of ten months, top fifteen percent in his class, and a medical doctorate in Neurosurgery with a vital passion for the immune system, Richard moved to a hospital. He joined a staff of four other surgeons, and together they traded off surgeries as needed. When Richard wasn’t working at the hospital, he co-founded a clinic to help people who had AIDS and other immunodeficiency illnesses. He was happy and prosperous for years.

Richard never wanted a lavish life; he was content living in a middle-class area. He owned an apartment in the city, bought discount foods, cooked at home, and lived in modesty. In comparison, he made large sums of money that he saved in Certificate of Deposits and accounts. He was not one to invest in the stock market; he claimed it was too risky. Instead, he re-invested in his clinic and hospital. However, he felt his happiness and joy become superficial and fickle. His life was becoming repetitive and bland, or at least blander. It was disturbing to Richard.

He wanted to re-think about his life’s path, so he made a deal with the Hospital and Clinic: he would go on an extended vacation (considering he hasn’t taken one for years) to re-collect himself. Since he was such a valued employee, the Hospital agreed. The clinic also allowed it, and even encouraged it. He said that he would be willing to work for an emergency, but the Hospital and Clinic reassured Richard. He needed to relax, they said. And so Richard took a small home in a developing suburb. He moved in across the street from a weird family, next to woods, and in a modest life. He had his collected savings to fuel him, and he paid off the majority of the home strait up. He was going to relax and calm down. He was going to clear his head.

Age: 5
Height: 2 ft.
Gender: Male
Species: Dog, Mut - possibly part laborador.
Eyes: Dark brown. They still hold a puppy-like shape.
Hair Fur: Samuel's fur is soft and glossy, but is short. It has a tan-black hue, resembling pepper in certain places.
Skin/Face: Samuel still has a puppy-like face, and he uses it to the best of his abilities.
Personality: Samuel is protective and loving - like all good dogs are. He listens to Richard quite well, but doesn't seem to hear other people. He and Richard are amazingly close, but Samuel has a jealousy streak that doesn't quit. He does love children, though. They pay attention to him, usually.
Gifts/Powers/Skills: Samuel can chase his tail quite quickly. He also can sit, roll over, bark on command, fetch, and stay still. He doesn't walk too far ahead during an evening stroll.
Brief History: Samuel was born in a litter, but the owners gave the entire group to the dog shelter. There, he waited for about a month before Richard picked him up and raised him. Ever since then, he and Richard have been together.

The caring Aunt.

Full Name: Christine Jennifer Laer
Age: 35
Height 5’ 8”
Gender: Female
Species: Human, caucasian
Build: Think and light. Christine isn’t very shapely or fat; she is a thin girl.
Eyes: Christine has reflective grey eyes. They often seem to take the hue of the prominent color around her.
Hair: Her hair has the natural rich brown of the Laer, but the tips have been died a deep pink. She thought it looked cute.
Skin / Face: Christine has smooth, well-taken care of skin. Her face is soft and gentle, giving her a friendly demeanor. She has medium-sized lips that are rarely covered in lip stick, warm cheeks that usually have no blush, and a well-proportioned nose.
Personality:Christine is a sensitive, caring person. She is the most creative out of the three Laer children, as she is the most abstracted-minded. She is a great listener and has an intuitive wisdom that Richard has taken advantage of many times in the middle of the night. She rarely gets angry or frustrated, but she doesn’t let people walk over her.
Gift / Powers / Skills: Christine is a Graphic Designer. In her spare time, she practices illusionary magic. She is the most mystically talented out of the three Laer children.

The rambunctious Uncle.

Full Name: Michael Victor Laer
Age: 38
Height 6’ 3”
Gender: Male
Species: Human, Caucasian
Build: Strong and muscular. Mike was a football player and he maintained his physique after his retirement.
Eyes: Gray. Mike’s eyes are striking and hard, like he is about to attack. This is normal for him.
Hair: Mike kept his hair short and scraggly. He said it had a “windswept look” to it. Color-wise, he has light brown hair.
Skin / Face: Mike is most noticeably more attractive than his brother Richard. He has a chiseled jaw, a nose that looks like it could have been broken a few times, and a powerful brow.
Personality: Mike is a tough, somewhat stereotypically masculine man. He believes that physical power is one of the ideals a man can strive for. He loves a good joke and prank, unless he is the butt of it. If anyone crosses him, he wouldn’t hesitate “showing them their place”, though. He is extremely protective of Christine, but he thinks Richard can handle himself.
Gift / Powers / Skills: Mike was a football player for a local professional team. He loved it, but just grew too old to play any more. He has little to no talent with any magic, little to no empathy, and little to no restraint. But he can punch really hard. And kick really hard. In fact, he was a martial artist (it was good assistance to get stronger for football).

This is mostly all I have. ^^;

Items

• March 2005 Letter [KiKi Kitty Letter] - 200,000 - 220,000 Gold
  
• February 2005 Letter [Solar Cloak and Lunar Cloak] - 63,000 - 65,000 Gold
  
  
• Estimated Letter Item Worth:
  KiKi Kitty - 200k
  Lunar Cloak - 62k
  Total - About 262,000
  

Please, do not be hesitant on commenting! I really do want to know what you think. I know that the Lammasu is somewhat simmilar to the Gryphon, but I do hope I made him original enough to not step on Taylor's toes.

Really, please post!

Thanks! The interesting thing about all of this is that I am fearful of adding too much information when there are too many factors to include through the personality, such as roleplaying events, how they were raised, the reactions that the family has to the child, and so forth. A lot of factors, so I tried keeping the older stages more general for fear of being misleading.

As for the younger stages, their personality isn't as developed and eched in stone, so I am doing some research on child psychology to figure out how to best flesh out their minds.

Lovely concept, certainly very interesting. If you'd like, I can give you a more in depth critique latter, but on a first read through, I did notice one thing that seemed off. He lacks negative traits. That is, I caught just about no flaws in his personality, unless one counts shyness, until he reached adulthood, where you mention his aura reading makes him biased. Now, is that going to be present through out his life (because it could certainly be interesting) or is it only going to show up as he ages.

Anyway, it's just a little thing. An all good character could certainly be played well, I'm just wondering if he is an all good character.