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Kai was one amongst the many Firekin who had set out to find this winged lion. He had heard stories about such beings, and how they were referred to as Gods or Goddesses. Why? He wasn't sure. He just grew up hearing odd tales about powerful beings with wings. Whatever the case was he now found himself, with his pride, hunting one of these beasts. He certainly was curious though to find out if the reports had been true. If this was a God...what did it all mean for the Firekin...for him?

Kai happened to hear Hraga's comment. "Do you happen to know what some of the gifts might be? It would probably be best to prepare ourselves with whatever knowledge we can. I'd rather be over prepared for facing...whatever it is, before we find it."

Typical Kai, thinking with his head first. He may have his grandfather's stature and physical strength but he certainly did not use it to the same capacity.

((OOC: Kimmeh, please don't count my posts towards the raffle since I got a boy out of the Nergui RP))

Azar'biajn said nothing in response to any of the voices floating out around him. Nothing except giving a grunt of approval at Hraga's suggestion at fanning out. Without so much as a backward glance to see if the others had done as his ex-apprentice had asked, he pressed on, weaving between rocks jutting from the sand and grass like the giant weathered teeth of a giant.

He saw the raven first, circling again, crying out as if searching for a friend. A mate. Azar'bijan felt his chest tighten, his eyes narrowing to track its path...until he realised it was not searching at all.

It was drawing attention.

His eyes snapped down from the sky just as the grasses parted and there, perhaps thirty long paces away, he saw the first of the Nergui come into sight. The corporal's jaw clenched tight, the muscles in his body pulled taut. And then he was roaring, an act of challenge and defiance.

Across the way, Muunokhoi replied the challenge with one of his own, his voice joined by many others.

"Enough talk of gods," Azar spat, his voice full of contempt, "we've come across something far better."

[ exclaim Following this post, the two groups will draw nearer to one another. Feel free to have your characters express anger/uncertainty/taunts at the opposing party, but please be aware that no actual fighting will begin until my next post.]

Raubtier was conflicted. Being knocked out, he had missed much of the action during the glory hunt. The chants helped him keep up, despite still being a bit sore. When the chants gave way to uneasy silence he started favoring one of his hind legs again. And now they had stumbled upon their enemy. The hyena roared along with the others. He was far enough back in the horde to make it hard for him to see exactly what lay ahead, but the roars had said it all. He wasn't sure if he should be excited at the prospect of a fight, or worried.

Urit'alya had spoken little--if at all--during the trek. The lioness had few words to contribute to the conversation, and less still was her interest in the topic of conversation. Gods. Regardless of whether of not such creatures existed mattered little to her. The whimsy of hypothetical gods didn't seem to be much of a factor in this war. Why bother with worrying about it?

No, there were more pressing matters at hand. It was such matters that drew Alya out into joining this particular merry band of pridemates. Nergui. Just the name of the barbaric horde sent a shot down her spine, a mix of trepidation and excitement. A feeling that made her claws press into the sand and her lip curl.

It was this particular feeling that sunk into her bones as the roar ripped from the corporal's maw. She had fanned out as per Hraga's suggestion, but was still not far when Azar had spotted the Nergui. Muscles froze and golden eyes narrowed into a tense and pointed stare. Alya felt her breath release in a slow, methodical motion as her shoulders squared and her head raised in classic Firekin defiance.

They will fall Alya thought, her certainty a child of her pride and anger. We will bathe the sand with their blood for coming here. The lioness echoed the roars of Azar and Ka, bold and ready.

Godlum listened to the warcry with an intense interest, his tail slowly pulsing behind him. Coming to this part of the desert had been of great interest to him- his son was still missing, and Tarak's attempts to liberate him had been futile to say the least. He knew better than to expect to see his son on the battle-lines. But perhaps, by acquiring some of the red lion's blood, he could divine what had become of him.

The strange, awkwardly tall lion waited for the next round of calls to add in his own. It was dry, sharp, and resembled more a bark than it did a roar. With several of his own people at his side, the bone-marked lion moved forward into the sand.

Still no sign of their quarry.

The two Nergui females who had perhaps not killed the god, but at least shared the last blow between them before backing down were not at all disheartened by the long march home. They all of them had a share in the glory, every one who'd tasted the fur or feathers or blood of the false goddess. That alone would be enough to give their spirits wings to ride home on. Or so they'd both thought. They'd shared little more than a word after the kill - a nod to each other's determination. Of the two, the purple was the only one with any injury, and hers had come in the form of a confusing mental attack, nothing physical. They stamped along with their proud fellows, the green chanting heartily, and for once, the purple for once joining in in her rough, muted way. She took no pride in the Nergui, but the fight HAD been good.

And it was one less god in her father's way.

Of course, the roars echoing out through the deserts might have meant a change in plans.

When the Nergui came into view, Pele let out a low threatening growl. It rumbled loudly in her throat, eyes narrowed. She suddenly unsheathed her claws.

She had never seen nor encountered any Nergui before, but there were whisperings of them around from her childhood. Everything she had heard made her angry, and now was a time to express such anger.

When her grandfather pressed on to attack, Pele was quick to do the same. Her hindlegs sprung her forward to the closest opponent she could manage, another lioness, her colours drastically different from her own.

She aimed to do exactly as Azar had said, and take no prisoners.