Meanwhile….

Black wings ruffle nervously as their owner fidgets. One part of the griffin's mind is gleefully looking forward to this transaction. That part (who thinks itself the only inhabitant in this magnificent creature) thinks back to the events that had transpired.
 
 

He gives off a small trilling sound as he remembers….it had happened almost too fast for him to take advantage!
 
 

Only problem is, the way he remembers it isn't….totally accurate. Here's what happened….
 
 

Zular looks down at his new, sleek body, and finds it horrid! He was born a human BEING, by Thor! Not some avian monster!
 
 

How many times had he, out of pure reflex, struck out with his fine….er….horrid claws and snatched a feral rodent? How many times had he eaten the still twitching rabbit raw (and found himself horrified that he enjoyed the taste immensely)? Also, there was this…..urge to….accept this? That this was natural and normal?
 
 

No, time to end his suffering!
 
 

He would master his body long enough for this one last, deadly task, to be done. Just hold his wings in check, and…..
 
 

The black griffin leaps from the stony cliffs and plunges to the group below. Sharp avian eyes open wide as the ground rushes up towards him, and…..griffin instinct override the angered former human.
 
 

"Kiiiyaaaaahhhhhh!" the griffin roars out in an avian scream, as the griffin equivalent of adrenaline and other chemicals rush throughout the griffin's powerfully muscular body (and into the former human's brain). The one who calls himself Zular feels a…rush more intense and pleasurable than ANYTHING he's ever felt before! It was more intense that ANY of the recreational drugs he had taken in some of the seedier drug dens of Walants. It was even more intense, pleasurable, than even the highest priced (and most talented) whore he had lain with in the City of 10,000 sins!
 
 

It was even more intense than the fabled alchemical designer drug he'd almost been tempted to take years ago, the drug called Oberon's Ambrosia!
 
 

Eye's half closed as he flapped his wings in ecstatic bliss, the fell duke gives off a little trilling sound (somewhat like a lion would give off). Deep inside the griffin's mind, a conflict that had been nibbling at Zular's consciousness expands a thousandfold.
 
 

He loves this!
 
 

He loathes this!
 
 

What is happening is very typical of victim's of an enforced transformation by Zerm the unspeakable. A particular dragon mage is credited for saying that those who do not adapt to their new forms….don't fight the mental adjustments brought on by the polymorphing of their matrix….to do else is to court permanent insanity.
 
 

The form that Zerm had forced upon Zular was a poor match for his inner nature, as well the dark mage knew! Frederigo D'Honaire had a much easier time with his metamorphosis into a humanoid fox, since his inner nature dictated what his outer form would take with the onset of Minestus' spell cast lycanthropy.
 
 

Zular doesn't have even that! There is nothing acting as a cushion for the onslaught on Zular's sanity. The best course of action would have been to accept the change, and learn to live with his new form.
 
 

Zular wouldn't do this, he was too proud and arrogant. The price for this arrogance is….his sanity.
 
 

Zular senses…the beginnings of "another" inside….
 
 

The other gives off another trilling scream of joy as he beats his mighty wings harder to gain altitude.
 
 

This is the….his birthright! This is what the gods had gifted all the avian folk above all others! The ability, the blessed ability, to fly!
 
 

The griffin's heart filled with a powerful joy, while at the same time a dark corner of his mind mentally ground his teeth in anger and loathing….
 
 

For the moment, it is his "other" side (his body) in charge, as the ecstatic griffin wings his way across the sky….hither and yon. It is thus the largest clan of griffin, Clan Slirix, finds the newest griffin!
 
 

The group of griffins had just attended the burial service of their chief (dropping the corpse from on high into the deep lake….a place of holiness….to symbolize one last….blessed flight). Flying above them is a wondrous sight. They are stunned almost to the point where they forget to keep flapping their wings, so wondrous is the black griffin.
 
 

The mourner's pelts range from a tawny yellow to a nearly crimson coloration. The ebony pelt and wings of Zular the griffin are surely the gift of the Father of all Winged Folk! Truly, this one must be a sign from on high!
 
 

The Clan shaman had predicted, through his examination of the entrails of the largest stag of the forest, that soon the Clan would be blessed by a wondrous visitor who'd…..lead the Clan…the entire People of the Wing…..to their rightful place amongst the lands of Terra!
 
 

And the name of this gift from the gods is to be: Trilling Blackfeather!

******
 
 

Zular looks down at the rows upon rows of tan and red colored male and female griffins, who look back at him in something akin to worshipful awe. Through some quirk of fate, these…..creatures had come to HIM and BEGGED him to be their leader. To be their KING!
 
 

Well, actually these primitives had used the word: "Chief amongst chiefs" but the soft, sibilant tongue that the older….Shaman had used had translated to the same thing.
 
 

"Perrrrhapsssss I sssshould accccept," Zular thinks aloud to himself, in his honeland's tongue, wincing at the deep (but oddly pleasing) voice he now possessed. It was amazing that he could speak at all with the beak he now possessed, but Zular still felt a sense of loathing every time he spoke. He hated every rolled "r" and every hissed "s."
 
 

"What say you, Oh Chief of Chiefs?" the old, grey feathered shaman asks, ignorant, like most of his species, of all but the most basic terms of human language. The old male smiles inwardly, secretly congratulating himself on selecting the one before him! Truly, this black griffin was skilled in matters far beyond normal. Perhaps even to the point that rivaled the Chief of Chiefs before the Fall….thousands of years ago!
 
 

If nothing else, the fact that the black griffin had been able to somehow learn the flighty human's tongue…..was amazing (most had a disturbing tendency to either attack a griffin….or run screaming)! Curious but true!
 
 

"I said I accept," Zular lied, int the griffin tongue, instantly deciding that if he couldn't rule as a human, that this would do. If nothing else, he could use his position as a beginning for his revenge on his enemies!
 
 

A happy murmur passed throughout the crowd, and the Shaman and several assistants stepped forward to perform the Ceremony of Anointment. Several packs of dyes were brought forth, and Zular's knack for chemistry (from his dabbling in the art of poisoning), noted the property of some of them.
 
 

Ack, bitterroot stains! Zular mutters to himself as the Shaman lightly paints various eldritch symbols onto his feathery/furry black chest and fore and rear legs. Master Carisi warned that bitterroot was impossible to wash off the skin….it even stains down to the bone! I'll NEVER be rid of it!
 
 

Zular allowed the ceremony to continue, knowing that the signs "of the Clan" would forevermore be with him….for every new feather would be dyed anew by the berry stain that permeated every cell underneath the crimson/purple stain.
 
 

Zular allowed this, for though his heart was now a fusion of both avian and leonine, deep within it still was a deep greed for power. If he must be stained forevermore by this Shaman, then so be it!
 
 

Various leather straps and bangles are attacked onto Zular's forelegs/arms and wings. Some are adorn with shiny stones, others with intricate knotwork.
 
 

The trappings of power, Zular thinks drolly to himself.
 
 

The crowd of worshipful griffin, meanwhile, have taken up a soft chant as the full moon rises. The Shaman raises yet another pouch of crushed berries, and proceeds to paint various other parts of Zular's body! The black griffin is growing restless. However, Zular had enough sense to prevent his natural instinct to strike out at the odd Shaman.
 
 

He nearly laughs in scorn at some of the symbols he recognizes.
 
 

Why in the name of Hel is this fool making Irisn fertility symbol on…..? Zular thinks, looking down at himself. His eyes grow wide when the…..urgency hits him down there and spreads like wildfire throughout his entire being! It is like Zular has been hit by a bolt of lightning, so powerful is what he feels!
 
 

NO! Zular screams to himself, desire burning out of control within him.
 
 

The instincts are in control, and part of him rejoices at what he knows is to come.
 
 

The more human part of Zular is screaming…..
 
 

As similarly decorated red and tan griffin females, incredibly beautiful in the eyes of their fellow avian folk, lead a softly purring black griffin off to the Cave of Joining, the Shaman raises a clawed hand/talon to the rising Moon.
 
 

"Hear my cry…Oh Silvery Mistress!" the Shaman begs his godess as Luna shines down upon Terra. "Let Trilling Blackfeather's seed and blood strengthen my Clan…and strengthen the entirety of the Griffin Race!"
 
 

Under an experience that is beyond anything the evil duke had ever experienced as a human being (even more intense than his act of flying with his new wings), Zular's mind snaps! He can no longer reconcile his twin feelings of love and hate for what he has become. His mind shatters in twain. One part is his old personality, but this dark side sees his new form as a blessing from the gods….and his old human body as a horrible mistake! Now, he truly is what he was destined to be. The other side inherits the values and ethics that Zular knows of (if only to put on the proper show for the masses). This side is the polar opposite of Zular's old personality. It is generous, caring….heroic. It has no knowledge of his darker side, nor does the darker side know of his lighter side. Any inconsistencies in memory and actions will be explained away or written off as inspiration….or necessity.
 
 

But….with everything else on Terra….sometimes it's not as simple as it looks. There truly are TWO souls running around in the black griffin's skull!
 
 

Zular, no longer a duke…not a human….not even thinking of himself as named "Zular" (but by his new name), comes forth the next day with his new pair of wives.
 
 

It is the Light Trilling who addresses his Clan. Light Trilling has no memories of anything before awakening in the glen…earlier that day. Everything up to the point of last night was a foggy blur…confusing…..and unimportant. The Shaman had it right, he was a much needed leader, a divine gift from the gods. As a humble tool, he was obligated to carry out Their will in leading the Clans of the Griffin to greatness.
 
 

The Shaman pierces his right ear, as the final symbol of his binding of his body and soul to the Clan.
 
 

For a second, Dark Trilling Blackfeather is looking out at his followers, and congratulates himself on a masterful job of acting…. And all of this, and power!
 
 

Light Trilling reaches out and tenderly strokes the beak of Morning Song, who leans into it and gives off a rumbling sigh…..
 
 

1. Scene change, in the gossamer tail of Terra's Haley's comet…..An urgent Enemy burst transmission is being received from somewhere in the vicinity of the Moon's orbit….. 

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