Name: Ranazu Thesanthei
Height: 6 foot 1
Weight: 210 lbs
Hair: Black
Eyes: Black
Age: Unknown
Race: Amenti
Ancestry: Bastet

His body tenses beneath the final crack of the whip, the kiss of leather upon the naked flesh of his back rending skin anew. He'd learned long ago to not cry out, his cries of pain having in the past only driven his owners to greater acts of cruelty. But always did they seem to whip him into within an inch of his life, the shackles which bound his wrists suppressing the spirit within, cutting him off from his gifts and power. Hanging limply, metal biting into his wrists, he could not suppress the moan which slipped past sweat slicked lips. Nor could he deny the groan of agony as once more salt was rubbed into his back, his flesh a maze of scarred lash marks, and now more would be added.
His binding pulled from the hooks which kept him "standing", he was thrown onto the straw bedding of his cell, a bowl of gruel set down beside him. Always were his whippings harsh, but the violence of tonight's beating and the gruel, he knew what was to come. With trembling hands did he lift the bowl and "drink" from it greedily, moments later passing out, lost within the darkness of unconsciousness for hours before he was roused by those loyal to the queen. His passage through the stone halls as always little more than a dream, flanked by robed figures who sought the safety of shadows at the approach of all not immediately known until finally the destination found.
The Queen's chambers.
This, her act of defiance. The pain of her nails dragging across the wounded flesh of his back brought his mind surging forth from its prison of numbness. There was no sensation of either love nor lust as she lay moaning beneath him, he the one of who the prophecy spoke. A prophecy which was interpreted to say that it would be by his hand the current King would fall.
But tonight was to be different, as he lay spent upon her, his seed within her womb her hands came to run gently through his hair.
"Tonight...You shall have your freedom"
Words whispered within his ear.
Her husband, the King, was a tyrant. But even though he ruled with an iron fist powered by fear, she was not without resources of her own. Through those resources she had received word his plans on replacing his queen. If such was true, there was little which could be done, for her that is. But if through freeing the slave who now lay within her bed the prophecy could come true.
With those loyal to her summoned, he was disguised and taken from her chambers. Under the cover of darkness, mounts were obtained, and their journey out of the kingdom begun. But she could not leave. For her plan of revenge to have a chance at achieving fruition, it demanded her presence to stall any actions which might be taken to destroy it.

But, within the tyrant King's cruel denial of prophecy, success had been found within the breaking of his slaves spirit. But the demanding work which was forced upon him, and the tortuous treatments inflicted upon the body had instilled within his slave the strength and fortitude which was required to sustain himself upon the mad flight from the kingdom. Through the jungle did he travel, and across the burning sands of a seemingly endless desert. As those who had been assigned to journey with him upon order of the Queen fell to the elements or those who inevitably gave chase, his strength and hardened body served to see him through.

Eventually though, even his mount was unable to continue, and as it fell thrashing and covered in lather he stumbled onward. Breaking free of the desert and into the cooler forests of Beware proper he ran. The enchanted shackles which subdued the spirit within him continuing to block him off from his inner spirit, but still he ran. Until finally, even he could not continue his journey.

The crack of the whip was felt once more upon his back as he stumbled within the stream. The cool water which ran from his bare skin made red with blood, but finding his feet he stumbled onward only to collapse a few scant steps afterward.

For a split second, perhaps there was hope as the voice of a woman who sought to intervene was heard. But then the breath of one of his hunters was felt upon the back of his neck, the teeth of the Bengal Tiger felt clamping down upon the base of his skull and he felt only a moment of terrible pain before the world faded to black. But even the shackles could not prevent the change of form as within his death he reverted to how he had been brought into this world, Crinos form.

But his journey was not to end there. As his soul began to depart the body which it inhabited...It was approached by an entity...A spirit, the shard of an ancient soul. And offered the chance to experience the living world once more. He grasped greedily at the offer. From his eternal essence, the shredded spirit of the slave was excised...That portion of his soul which had been weakened by his treatment at the hands of the tyrant King and his men, and the shard of the ancient sought to fill that gap.

A soul which had been plagued by weakness made strong and whole once more, into his corpse it moved. And a new journey was begun. Back through the forest did his corpse shamble, through villages and cottage clearings he moved until finally he returned to the heat of the Barrens, where this time people were waiting for him. Under their care the last leg of his journey was completed, the sandstorm created by the minions of Apophis they sought to shield him from. And finally, he stepped upon the grounds of the temple of Ra.

Brought into the bowels of the Temple where his body was wrapped in linen. The spell of life was cast...The merging of the first life, the shard of the ancient Egyptian soul, with that of the second life, the bastet slave, produced the third life.

Amenti...Mummy....The Vessel of Ra.