Sura could wait. He had all the time in the realm...

Nothing happened for a long while.

Sura jolted awake, suddenly sensing a presence - or rather, a collection of presences - present upon the blasted, glassy deserts above. They had only then become obvious to his Divine probings, and did not appear to be Divine in origins.

He spoke to the King of Scorpions. "We have guests. See who they are." Sura then started creating something big...

The scorpion did not return. The presences did not waver. Sura felt a strange cackling, crackling in his head, a psychic static that robbed of him of many of his keener faculties, cognitive abilities..

The mound of sand in front of him was not yet big enough to carry a squadron of Greek warriors, but it was getting there. He'd faltered without realising.

Sura, it seems, would have to see what was in his realm himself. He stopped the sand creation - he would return later to finish it off. He left his temple, arriving at the surface of Desolace. He scanned the horizon.

Just as Sura stopped working on his creation, he felt a sudden element of unease descend upon him. He felt somehow molested, examined, touched in hundreds of ways.. and then it passed, all too suddenly as it had come. e did not sense any immediate magical fates or affects upon him. What was it.. ?

It was night in Desolace.

This was deeply, deeply disturbing.

There was no moon, only a shroud of utter darkness that filled the land. A tsunami of shadows..

The sand where Sura stood was soft, empty. In the distance, Sura saw an outcropping of rocks... no. Not rocks. What was it.. ?

Desolace had not seen the darkness since its creation, a troubling omen. Sura quickly gathered an assumption. With no presences clearly dectectable and something clearly examining him, Sura gathers its a being greater than he. Sura quickly retreated back to his temple. This being would have to come to him.

The temple was quiet, dark, soothing, cool. Sura felt much more comfortable within the temple Akhenatan, surrounded as he was by the wealth of a thousand kings.

He continued with his sand creation while he waited. He assumed his connection to his insects was cut because of the strange darkness. He concluded that this presence wasn't friendly. The amount of sand in here would be a good defense - especially in these close quatres.

The sand formed, gathered, shaped by the will of its Lord and creator. Time passed. Nothing attacked Sura.

He continues until he has enough.

There was, at once, enough sand for the mammoth task the Lord of Sand had appointed himself. It filled every corner, surrounded the room utterly.

The thought crossed Sura's mind that whatever was in his realm would strike after hes exhausted himself. He continued to flow out sand as he thought.

More and more sand filled Sura, filling the chamber with several feet worth of the stuff. Perhaps he would need to find another chamber in which to create his clay.

Sura moved to a new, connecting chamber, spreading the sand throughout both of them. He could use the sand outside but it was not right for such a creation. It must be pure.

This chamber, too, filled with sand. There was literally tonnes of it. Was Sura attempting to create a Slaughterbeast, perhaps, or a faux-Kraken?

Something better! He flowed sand out into the chambers, moving it to more chambers if he has to. He also begins to raise Akhenaten from the ground, preparing to spurn out this new creation.

Very, very slowly, the pyramid rose from the sand. There was suddenly the shattering of glass as it burst into the despicable night, where it would rest.

Once the sand had flown from him he walked to the entrance of the temple and moved the sand out as he formed it into his creation.

Sura stopped. He felt sick. Violated, somehow. Physically ill. His vision was blurred, and then..

It was all fine. He was fine.

The double fatus had been broken.

Sura wasn't concerned. He continued.

The sand slowly - very slowly - formed the image of a single large mound, from which his creation would have to be carved.

He crafted, cut and designed the sand as it flowed from his temple. Stroke after stroke he would stay there, for as long as it takes.

Soon, the basic crafting was complete. An hour had passed and the sculpture of the thing, without any inherent properties, stood ahead of Sura. It was massive, necessarily carved in the larger chambers of Akhenatan, and looked every bit the rightful image of death. Perhaps it was the massive pincers, or the thrashing tail that led into a curved, poisonous sting that could only bring torment. The bladed legs, of which there were eight, did not seem particularly friendly. The eyes, however lifeless, seemed filled with an inarticulate, boundless rage.

It was beautiful.

Sura stood in awe for a moment, only to continue work on the details...


He slows down the proccess however, for his strength was needed elsewhere.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:42, Sun 25 Apr 2010.