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Next morning, as the sun rose once again over the island, Pyroth finally awoke from his fitful dreams, releived beyond words to leave those nightmares behind. He revelled in the warm ignorance of his bed for a time, before sitting up. As he did so every one of his muscles screamed in protest, particularly his neck which felt like it had been daggered during the night. So intense was his body's protest that he had to pause in his movements just to let the pain subside.

It was as if all of his muscles had cramped up during the night and been left that way.

With a hearty groan, he finally got out of bed, sliding his feet onto the pleasantly cool stone floor. It seemed th air conditioners had come on during the night, thank goodness. Only when he was fully awake did he notice the horrible taste in his mouth, that sort of bad taste that only comes from not having eaten or drunk in two days. He grimaced and left his nearly empty chamber and wandered off in the direction of the cafeteria. It was deserted when he arrived, however a notice informed him that he could help himself to anything he felt like. Of course, being who he was, he would rather have been offered a toothbrush in stead of a meal. He ate the barest minimum at the best of times, his other addictions always robbing him of his appetite.

Today, despite having not eaten in two days, he chose nothing more than a single slice of cheese and a glass of water, which he polished off in a few minutes. Then, with a stretch and a yawn, he headed out and down to the beach to seek out his kit.

For reference see previous rp: Set at the beach.

Pyroth sat awake on his bed, looking out of the open door at the setting sun. That day had been an odd one to say the least. No luck as far as finding his pod went, but at least he had met some of the others on the island. Ambrose seemed like a nice enough man, well mannered and polite, someone he could most likely have a chat with when things got tiring. The Doctor had been there too, along with Aubrey, his assistant, he trusted neither fully yet, simply because of their connections with science, though he had to admit, Aubrey did seem like an amiable person.

Squinting into the horizon, Pyroth thought he could see the faintest beginnings of a raincloud but dismissed it. Surely that horrible storm from his first night couldn't be following him? For once he was thankful that he actualyl had some solid shelter in this place rather than the tent that he was going to have to live in if he had arrived as the mission specified. Despite being nomadic by origin, Pyroth had never really warmed to the travelling life, opting instead for a fixed abode as soon as he could. Life was fleeting and he wanted to enjoy it in style.

Pity it looked like the rest of his life would be spent here, he mused, trapped dishonourably on a mission. He didn't wish to let himself sink too far into angst however and he shook those thoughts off. What could he wish for more than to live on a paridise island? Well maybe to live on a paridise island without feeling sick all the time?

That nauseous feeling had come and it had stuck. It messed with Pyroth's appetite, prompting him to eat double what he normally would (/two/ cheese slices) and made him slide into a perpetual mood spiral. As things stood, he was positively peevish and as angry as anything. He swore, that if the rain started and his duplex flooded, he was going to get VERY angry.

He thought he had heard someone move in upstairs not too long ago, but he had seen neither hair nor hide of them since, so perhaps it was just another of his vivid dreams.

Pyroth didn't notice the package be delivered, he had been chilling out on his bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to think of what to do. When he sat up to head to the bathroom, he noticed it. A single eyebrow raised as he examined it, then carefully picked it up. For all he knew it could randomly spray gas at him or something.

But no, inside were some essentials that really were a delight to see, bath supplies for example..and some that struck him as odd. A sand castle bucket? Ah well, maybe he would get bored enough to go down to the beach and build something out of sand, castle or otherwise.

The swimsuit and sunscreen were welcome additions, though he doubted that he would get up the courage to go swimming for a little while, and when he did, he would probably have to wait until he was alone, his body really wasn't much to look at.

Pyroth didn't approve of books per se, but he decided that it wouldn't be hypocritical to read them if there were no stories to be told around here. They might kill the mood of the story itself, but they passed the time.

But the two most interesting parts of the care package by far for Pyroth were the stationary kit and the PC. With the stationary kit, he could most likely get some tattoo designs done and the PC could contain his outrage at being stuck here.

It really was a pleasant suprise and one very much more contented Pyroth settled down to faff about with the PC, than the Pyroth who had been originally stumped for what to do.

Pyroth once again felt like crap as he awoke, his head throbbing, his mouth dry and his entire body feeling as though it had been run through some sort of roller machine. If he didn't know better, he could have sworn that he had been taking fireweed or alcohol the night before, but he clearly hadn't been as there was none of the bloody stuff on this island. He sat up with a pained groan and put his hand to his head, as he did so regretting it immediately. The pain in his arm seemed to shoot right down to the bone and was so intense as to take the air right from his lungs. He was used to pain as his scars testified, but that didn't mean he was numb to it.

"Ouch." he commented, taking a bleary closer look, eyes narrowed at the pinprick small wound in his arm as if doing so would intimidate the pain away. It really was strange on this island, bizzare dreams coupled with unidentified injuries. He wished there was someone that he could file a formal complaint to and get out of here, but that was just fanciful thoughts.

Letting out a deep sigh, he let his scarred arm fall to the sheets. "At least I'm still alive." he commented bluntly, as if doing so would make things all better.

It didn't, but at least he was being positive.

Whatever they had injected him with, however, was making him feel nauseous and dizzy, not to mention the strange tingling sensation across his entire body, as if his nerves were frazzled.

The headache was the worst part by far though, that kind of headache you only get through insomnia or a hangover, so painful that it makes your teeth ache and red spots flash behind your eyelids. Clambering out from under the sheets, Pyroth lay back on his bed again, feeling terrible, his good arm covering his eyes in a horribly futile attempt to blank out the headache that raged behind his eyelids.

He wanted out. And now. But there seemed no way in hell that was ever going to happen.

Fever seemed to set in on Pyroth as he lay there, more uncomfortable than he had been in a very long time, however, this fever gave way to something much much more unusual. The frazzled feeling from earlier took a turn for the more intense, the feeling akin to tiny painless needles growing from the skin. It was so strange and foreign however to make him shudder, and he sat bolt upright on his bed, looking firstly at his arms, the world seeming to pale into horrible insignficance as this strange hair began to grow across his rusty skin.

Reaching out his hand, he touched it and shivered involuntarily at how sensitive it proved to be. It was definately attached to him, that much was clear. He was lucky that his mind had grown accustomed to strange occurences through years of abuse or he might just have freaked our right then and started running round the room. Maybe this was it starting? The fevers of death could give way to stuff like this couldn''t they?

The thought made his heart flutter, terrified in his chest.

As the tingling feeling faded away, a new feeling took it''s place, as though someone had grabbed the edges of his mouth and pulled pretty damn hard. He didn''t notice the resulting shift of cartilage in his ears as this happened as they altered in shape but felt the horrible whine of hearing that was much changing to be more intense than it had been. The sound was like someone turning the tuner of a radio set to the loudest and highest frequency, it grated on him like nails on a chalk board and he reached up to cover them, hoping that by cutting off the sound he could take the pain away.

It didn''t help and just showed him that his ears had changed shape. With a yelp, he leapt from the bed and scrambled over to the mirror, the sight that met him deeply terrifying. He opened his mouth to scream and as he did so felt his teeth shift, cutting off his cry as they set of a chain reaction, his canines lengthening and then his intestines shifting in position and length in a rather horrible way.

His next destination was the toilet as his stomach protested what was left in it as it changed. He felt horribly undignified as he retched over the bowl for a time, honestly wishing that he would either wake up, stop tripping or die. But the unbearable nausea faded like the rest of the strange changes, leaving only numbness, until, with a pain like no other, the pain you only get when someone kicks you in the spine, the horrific nub of a tail made itself known.

Pyroth didn''t move for a time, just stood stock still between mirror and toliet, waiting for another wave of hell to come at him...but nothing did. After a moment or two, he cautiously, very very slowly in case he set something off, made his way to the mirror and met the eyes of a creature more horrific than even he had been before (he had always considered himself quite ugly) and winced at his own reflection, curling his lip in disgust only to reveal much sharper teeth than he had sported before.

"s**t." was the only comment he could make on the situation as his body, with a grumble reminded him that he was hungry and that this time it wasn''t going to take "cheese slice" as an answer.

After a moment there was a voice on the line.

"I'm sorry but this line is temporarly unavailible... if this is an emergecy, leave a message."

[ Message temporarily off-line ]

------

Ambrose was headed out to the beach again, his fencing gear in his bag. It had become something of a habit of his. The beach at sunset seemed to be an ideal setting - either resulting in some good practice or frequently conversation as other people congregated there as well.

He slipped off his sandals as he arrived on the beach, walking barefoot through the sand that still was retaining heat from the sun of the day.

--------

Pyroth often spent his time alongside the river, feeling safer alongside what he felt were the tame spirits of the water rather than the wild spirits of the ocean. However, today was the exception. His time spent with Colche the previous day had heartened him a little to the ocean and he had made his way down to the sands, a towel in hand to sit on.

As he stepped out onto the perfect sands, he spotted Ambrose. It had been a while since he last spoke to the blonde man, so he made his way over.

"Hello there Ambrose."

-----

Ambrose blinked in surprise as he stepped forward to greet the Native American man. "Pyroth? Wow, no kidding! Where have you - " He cut off, looking over a familiar array of features mirrored on the other man. He swallowed and shook his head, realizing that it should not have surprised him - Pyroth had been here for almost as long as he was. It only made sense that he had begun to change as well. "They got to you too, didn't they?" His eyes softened in sympathy.

---

Pyroth had gotten somewhat used to the features he now sported so much so that he was actually puzzled for a second or two as the other man cut off his speech. However he realised what had done it after a moment or two, noting the similarities in Ambrose's appearance to his own. However, quite different from his original anger at the changes, Colche had helped Pyroth see the more positive side of the changes bringing a little truth to his old mantra. "Yep, they got me. Guess I won't be going home like this." he shrugged "Though I can't say I'm all that bothered, my home wasn't exactly heaven. If I have to pay my humanity as a price to escape that and survive, I will do so."

--

Ambrose looked surprised. He had barely spoken to the man before and hadn't been aware that he was anywhere near this comfortable with the proposed fate of spending the rest of his life on the Island. "Really?" He questioned. "I ... wouldn't mean to pry... but being imprisoned here is better than whatever you had back home?"

Ambrose leaned against one of the trees, setting down his bag. "Honestly, as disturbed as I am by the prospect of being turned into a wolf.... I think what bothers me the most is the thought of never being able to go home..."

--

Pyroth nodded. "Anything is better than where I was. It wouldn't matter to tell you now, I doubt they ever intend to retreive me anyway. I used to work for the government, a sort of hired assassin. My tribe were good with poisons and weapons, they utilised that to their own ends. I complied or I "dissapeared"." He sighed "At least here I don't have to harm anyone."

He nodded to Ambrose. "I can definately understand why that would be the case for you, as for me though, I've been passed around like so much baggage for much of my life that the move to stay here wouldn't be so bad." It was a sad but true fact. "You are becoming a wolf?" his mind drifted for a moment to all the tales of the wise, loyal and noble wolf of old and he nodded "That's not as bad as it could be. I'm not even sure what I am becoming."

---

Ambrose, despite trying to maintain a polite exterior couldn't help but do a double take and gawk. "Assassin? You're serious? I mean... I know that they probably do really ... have people like that... but... I mean.. wow." He shook his head, taken aback. The man who had already been labeled "somewhat strange" in Ambrose's mind just took several more points in that direction. Could he be serious? "So... you didn't like doing what they made you do...? That's good, I mean... at least you're right - you don't have to do that anymore..." At least he had a conscience... But it seemed like something from a movie... then again, this whole situation seemed unreal...

"Well... at least, I mean, there are some people here who don't mind it so much. I've met a few other people: like a girl named Colche, and "Thorn" who being here might actually be a step up... I just wish that people like you were the only ones that they were bringing here... people who can be happy here and with what they're doing as opposed to being wrenched away from things that are important to them."

He nodded to him. "Yes.... I asked Aubrey - one of the staffmembers. I'm actually... well... I suppose if I had to choose an animal, a Wolf might be among the ones that I would have considered. There are a lot of people around not nearly as fortunate I think. But... it's stilll ... well, creepy... thinking about how that's actually going to affect me.... that it's goign to get worse...." He glanced over at him. "Well, you don't look too different from me so far.... maybe you're turning into a wolf too.... or some other canine..?"

---

Pyroth didn't beleive half of the things that had happened to date in his life either, things just seemed to fall down roundabout him as he went along. He had always chalked it up to the ill omen his birthdate had brought and the inherent curse of Karai Xiani, but nowadays he was beginning to think of that more and more as superstitious nonsense. He nodded to Ambrose, aware of the fact that man probably thought him mad. "Well I'm nothing like the assassins they show in the movies..it's more of a broad term. It was my job to make sure that important people suffered...well, accidents. The kind that the newspapers rave about. People will do a lot to find out a plant whose sap can kill a man and remain undetectable. It's not like I went up and shot people in the head." Even those words made him wince a little, explaining away the guilt was he? Well, what guilt there was. He had always got a bit of a thrill out of messing with lives, making a difference to the world from outside.

He waved a hand "But whatever, I digress." He nodded as Ambrose ran by him many of the islanders who had benifitted from the project. "Definately, I see no shortage of people out there who would benefit from the lodging provided here, people with no ties to anything or anyone. Colche grows more clever and independent by the day." His chestnut gaze lingered a moment or two on Ambrose and he recalled how it seemed at first that he had saw this as nothing more than a short term holiday. "But people like you, who had no choice in the matter and left a good life behind you should not have been put through this."

Ah so the staff had informed him of his soon to be alter ego's nature? "Ah, that explains it then, I've been avoiding the staff somewhat. Canines certainly wouldn't be so bad I suppose, I'd rather be one of them than something of ill omen. Not that I wouldn't rather simply stay human, but these days that's seeming less and less of an option."

---

Ambrose scratched at his arm a bit uncomofortably. As much as he prided himself in his rationality, Ambrose had grown up remarkably sheltered. There generally wasn't much more exciting in his life as a fencing tournament or dating a woman who he knew his parents would never approve of. The concept of speaking to someone who was a part of government conspiracies and assassinations was so away from his sphere of knowledge that it made him feel awkward... and naieve. He didn't want to appear foolish or childish... but on the same note in a way it intimidated him... how could he have the respect of someone who had done something like that for a living?

Needless to say, Ambrose was more than happy with the change in conversation. "I just wish that they did actually go to the people more whom would like to come here as opposed to those that merely would be easy to 'disappear'...." He glanced at Pyroth, certain that he had intimate knowledge of things like that. "And... thank you... unfortunately apparently the information I had put on the form for the 'medical study' made me a prime canidate.... as apparetnly I was the only one they selected from that particular venue... kind of ironic... I know how competitive I was trying to be as I was chasing a monetary compensation I needed for college..."

Ambrose nodded sadly. "I would have to agree with you there... omens aside, I rather like canines... of course as remaining human isn't exactly an option here..." He frowned.

---

Pyroth felt a great deal of sympathy for Ambrose right then, he had never really stopped to consider that there were others on the island who didn't have reason to see things in such a positive light as he and Colche did. He was selfish by nature and rarely saw the need to dwell on such things, after all, you would weep forever if you wept for every sorrow in the world. But Ambrose had been one of the first friendly faces he had come across on this surreal island and even the similarity in their impending destinys made him feel a sort of mild kinship towards him.

"They got you though medical research? Wow, that's very harsh indeed, I never thought that anyone would stoop so low as to recruit from the avenues taken when all else fails." Pyroth had heard of all the hassles people faced when gaining an education and to play on that was lower than low. It seemed now that Ambrose would be lucky if he ever saw college. Pyroth felt that old rage come back ot an extent and he forced the urge to raise his hackles down.

"I swear, they should keep me away from the staff from here on out." He wouldn't hesitate in staking a little vengance if given half a chance. Violence was something that he understood, one of the very few things. It had solved problems in the past he estimated, why not now?

He never considered that just by thinking that, he was forgetting that many of the staff on the island, even the doctor, were people too. But what else was to be expected of someone who had been fed moral lies for much of his life?

It was a little heartening though to Pyroth that he might be becoming a canine, it was little more positive than some of the monstrosities that his imagination had turned up. "I like most canines. At least, the non-pest varieties."

---

Ambrose nodded, starting to feel sorry for himself again. "I... well... I had set out on my own... just made it through my first year of college. I had gotten some scholarships, which was great... but a lot of them ran out after the first year, and I didn't have enough to pay for classes AND living this next year... so I saw this opportunity in the paper... $5000 for two weeks of medical research... it sounded perfect." He kicked at the sand.

"Too perfect I guess. Now it looks like they're never goign to let me leave... or anyone else for that matter. Ever." He looked down again as the reality of the situation was closing in around him. "No college... no fencing, no olympics."

Ambrose nodded, shrugging. "Pest varieties?" Change of subject. Perfect. "I can't think of any pest-variety canines."

--

Pyroth glanced out across the ocean as Ambrose spoke. Indeed, it was always harsh to hear it spoken aloud. They were so close yet so far from any land, anywhere that the island's inhabitants might recall. It was true, perfect was never as good as it seemed. However, there was always that hope there, something that life hadn't quite stamped out of Pyroth. "If it's any consolation, I've found that Forever is never as long as it seems. Things might seem hopeless now but fate has a way of turning things on their head." Who knew? Someday in the future the labs might get found out, run out of funding, anything, all it tok was perseverance. After all, what did they have to lose? "That won't bring any lost time back, but it's what keeps me ticking."

Ah pests, Ambrose would have been best not getting him started on them. Pyroth held a very dim veiw on any of the canines who had adapted enough from nature to cause havoc amongst people. It was a veiw that had always clashed somewhat with the teachings of his people. It was said, respect all of the god's creatures, Pyroth saw it as /all except those you can't stand./ "Pests? There are lots of them, foxes, coyotes, strays and the like. The kind of mangy animals that would sooner steal your sleeping child for breakfast than go out and hunt for themselves." Of course, his veiw was far from accurate but so were many of the ideals he held. "I actually got into quite a lot of trouble back at my old tribe for shooting a coyote, they didn't approve of kiling of any kind." For once that strange lack of remorse that made Pyroth capable of the job he did back on the mainland became noticable, the idea of killing something like a coyote seemed like not a big deal at all. "Stupid thing had been rummaging in the tip anyway, I was doing it a favour."

---

Ambrose's brow furrowed. What was that supposed to mean? "Forever seems to be an awfully long time...but maybe you're right... maybe we will luck out at some point and get off of this island... but to what? Life in a freak show? Family and loved ones that have moved on?" He shrugged pessimistically.

"Well... I don't see anything wrong with Foxes and Coyotes... and strays are just dogs that have had a tough life."

He cocks his head at Pyroth. "They don't approve of killing? Didn't what you did clash a bit more than killing a coyote then...?" He paled a bit, hoping he didn't offend him. "Er, no offense intended!"

--

"Well yes, I guess you are right" he conceded with a shrug "Though I try and look at the positive side of things, look at the negative all the time any you just end up like this." He made the faintest of gestures to the scars all across his arms, chest and neck. "At least we are still alive here, at least there is a chance, however small, that things could someday work out."

Pyroth let out the vaguest "hmph" at Ambrose's defense of what he called "the pests" "Most people think that. Personally I just can't stand them. In my book foxes are too reliant on humans, coyotes are filthy chancers and strays are dogs that all too often failed. They deserve what they get, even if what they get is a bullet to the head." Brutality was not something that Pyroth prided himself in but he certainly had it in spades, after all wasn't it always said that those who could find it in themselves to harm animals were dangers waiting to happen? Still, he himself never once noticed the less favourable aspect of his nature.

"Well, they didn't approve of killing totem animals. The illumise worshippers didn't beleive in killing at all, the Karai Xiani worshippers, my people only cared if you killed a totem. And it just so happens had the misfortune to kill one." he chuckled

"No offense taken, I did my time for it though, spent a week in solitary to think on what I did and received a repentance task to perform."

He never had done that task.

--

Ambrose eyed the scars with a wince, wondering what the story was behind those. Given Pyroth's admitted profession, his mind was spinning all kinds of situations that involved escapes by the skin of his teeth and devastating battles... "True.... at least we're still alive." He echoed with a small smile.

He shrugged at the acessment of the other animals. "Well, what's wrong with that? I mean given how much people are invading woodlands, most animals either have to adapt to the human imposition or die out. If there is an easy way to get food from human cast offs, then they're more likely to survive than other animals that are out hunting and expending more effort. And I've known far too many people who get a puppy because it's cute, and then just dump it when it gets old, or because they're too lazy to housebreak it. It's not the dog's fault. And besides, It's not like a fox or a coyote could really hurt a person unless it was diseased." Why was he being so defensive? Ambrose mentally took a step back. "I'm sorry... I just... well... I think most canines are a world better than some other animals."

---

Pyroth was indeed very defensive of his stance on certain canines, perhaps because his hatred was very much a way to distance himself from them and their many similarities to his own life situation. THe elders had always equated him to a dog, even so much as to assign him one as his totem animal. Apparently he was to learn loyalty, trust, love and all kinds of other personality traits he didn't have. All he saw it as was an insult, saying to him that he was a cunning beggar, someone who fooled others to get what he wanted, which was basically what he was.

"Any creature which relies on others solely for survival deserves death. Independence is survival, anything less is mere scrounging, less than a life." but he did make a point not to argue any further, many people did not take his opinion on canines well.

"But I will concede that canines are that bit better than most other creatures."

--

Ambrose frowned, shaking his head. That sentance didn't jive with him at all. "Being independent is wonderful. It really is. But life can be pretty miserable all on your own. Humans are social creatures just as much as any wol- er... dog."
He gestured. "I mean, you stick one person out in the woods and what are they goign to do? Survive, maybe, at best. But a civilization... Rome wasn't built in a day, nor by a single man."

--

"Civilisation is an excuse for people to subtly screw each over day by day. And as for humans being social creatures, I think we do just fine on our own when we have to. I know I would choose death over dependence any day." He cast his gaze to the sands "Though perhaps thats just because I've run out of trust. At least the woods would kill you in as unbiased a manner as they would anyone. People kill each other for gain. I think I'd rather risk it alone than put my life in the hands of creatures like that."