Capítulo 1: A fireball is born
"When winter sets in on the rest of Mythos, the jungle lands of Guinda shall remain hot. The Trees shall be ablaze, the grasses shall incinerate, the air will burn and all will be turned to ash as the Fireigh cats run wild. A land untouched by civilization, ruled by ferocity and savagery, and at the top of it all stands its fierce protector, Blazar: the fierce flame cat. All shall cower in the face of his awesome roar." - The Quest to Conquer by Hylas the Mad Man
The jungle was on fire. The blaze could be seen across the great plains in all directions. A Fireigh was being born. Deep in the dense mass of trees and leaves, in the very center of Guinda was a hidden cave long forgotten. Its depths were to the core of mythos itself. Miles and miles of darkness and emptiness. Or so it used to be. However on this night, a child was born there; and the cries of his mother echoed up through the passageways out into the night sky. It was killing her. Carrying this bastard had cost her everything she held dear, and now delivering it was taking the one thing she had left...her life.
"RAAAUUHHHGG!!!! You stupid accursed thing! Come out of me! I will kill you before i turn to ash! This i swear by my eternal FLAAAAAMME!!!"
Her words, though burdened by the agony she felt were full of the ferocity and fire she had wielded her whole life. The last vestige of her former self. As she labored, sprawled on her side on the dank cave floor, blood pooling from her feminine pride, her flames fired out in all directions; traveling along the cave passageways and firing out into the night, setting flame to all in their reach. Her stripes were fading; the black turning lighter and lighter as the seals released the closer she got to death. No longer limiting her flames. The orange glow of her people was almost all that was left, but she would not die before she could rip the head off of this calamity pushing its way out of her.
"Its a strong little bastard"
She couldn't help but recognize it. Were he to survive his flames wouldn't come in for another decade, but his warmth was still like a small flame.
'AAAAAHH!!!"
with one final push from the both of them, he was out. A tiny cub squirming in the pool of his mother's blood. His stripes were beautifully patterned. His squeaks of frustration and anger befitting one of his birth. His rage could be felt across Guinda like an energy wave.
Across the jungle it brought all manner of life to attention. The guntharian elephants blew their trumpets in warning, the green sloths ran through the trees with a speed unimaginable for their species. The birds fluttered frantically, the herbivores shuddered; and fireigh everywhere trembled. For they could sense the power of the being letting out his prepubescent war cry, though they knew not his age nor location.
As for him, he was alone. The force of his rage had stopped the heart of his already weak mother. The once beautiful and admired Farshalla of the fireigh was nothing more than a heap of ash, robbed of the revenge she sought upon her newborn son. For like the rest of her race, when the last of her black stripes fade she turns to ash. A new bed for her bastard son.
Having vented out his frustration the tiny glowing ball of a cat attempted to stand on all fours. It struggled, its mother's blood dripping off of him as his fur was soaked through, weighing him down. But he would not be defeated. His tiny growls echoed across the room deep within the cave as he forced himself to his feet. He gave a squeak of triumph, then took a few steps. He fell once, his chin smacking the stone floor and splattering the thick liquid beneath him. But he wouldn't cry. He squeaked once and resumed his steps. He had done it, blind and alone as he was.
But now he was tired. His front paws were on something soft. It felt like the perfect bed. But before he could lie down he needed something to drink. The liquid all around him felt thick but he knew it was better than nothing. So he crouched and lapped it up. After drinking his fill, he stumbled along to where the soft substance was the most plentiful, laid down and went to sleep. Thus, Blazar the fierce was born. Birthed with death, nourished by blood and rested by the ashes of his mothers.
Estado de energía semanal
-- Ranking de
Poder 
-- Piedra de
Poder