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[Redcoat]

OOC: Directions are this. You will be swallowed by the Entity; it will speak to you, without mentioning other party members. It will mistreat you and attempt to scare you. It can read minds and knows your darkest secrets. It will, also, put you in a trance; all posters will face a Trial similar to the one Anikus faces.

---

Anikus followed the rest of his party down the tube. He quickly recognized that in no way was it any sort of hole in the ground; after he began to descend, the walls of the dark passage seemed to grow wetter and wetter--and suddenly warmer. There was no turning back, however; not only was it too slippery to do so, but the alternative above would probably be worse than whatever was down here. Probably.

In addition to these disturbing indicators the scholar's aura-sight quickly kicked into overdrive. The malice and bloodthirst of the entity below him was utterly striking; for a second, it seemed to manifest as a physical feeling of revulsion. He suppressed an urge to throw up for a moment as he recognized that above him, the tube had closed; a minute shifting noise was heard, as if the tube linked up to another; the next person to jump down would be directed down a different path. He tried to warn them; he screamed; he kicked and pleaded as the esophagus closed around him. A moment later, he was moving at great speed despite his protests.

After a time, tendrils reached out from the walls of the tube; he was moving away, grabbed by them. By now, his heart was thumping loudly in his ears; the aura utterly permeated him; most disturbingly, however, his legs and arms had went utterly limp. His protests had stopped. He was no longer himself; reason had left him long ago. The only thing in his consciousness, as he drifted along in what seemed, increasingly, to be a sea of pitch black, was fear--was this it? Was he doomed to be the prey of this monstrosity? Had he failed his party so utterly as to be--

"Anikus S'ven 'Redcoat' Barrka, 'Esquire'," said the Entity. "That's an awfully complex and illustrious name for an idiot like yourself."

The voice was utterly harsh and inhospitable, even without taking into account the bluntness and rudeness  of its message. The words themselves carried heat, as though he were being spoken to by a furnace. The scholar recoiled; he approached the fetal position. He did not reply, even though the message, despite how foreign it was, had come from the center of his own head. Whatever it was was inside of him.

"That would be just like you, wouldn't it? The fool--"leading" your, ahem, colleagues into my domain on a most appropriate fool's errand. Or are they more to you, puppet? Do you consider them more than the tools you use them as? Or are you as much a slave to the Crown's ideal of pretended superiority as your scum-sucking sycophancy would indicate?"

By now, the scholar felt shackled, as though he were on the rack. Pain and death awaited him, and yet somehow, order had reinstated itself within his soul. From the center of his brain emerged what was left of his bravery; he did not reply to his tormentor with words, for none could be articulated--and instead he struck it, but in a strange way. He could not move, as though he were suffering paralysis. He attacked it, instead, within and with his own mind. Suddenly, a wail, uncharacteristic of the Entity's evident confidence and magnificient arrogance, filled Anikus' head. Behind it he could hear screams--ancient, distant, and real regardless. He realized for a moment that the Entity was in no way new to what it was doing. The party Anikus led was in no way its first set of victims.

"I will teach you to steal my property!" the Entity said, returning, evidently enraged. "That Shard is mine; it is my property; it is a part of me. This Forest is mine. Those creatures are mine. Soon, you will be mine!"

The scholar's breathing deepened; suddenly he could not keep himself awake. Sleep came despite his protests; he entered the Entity's trance. Their consciousnesses merged.

---

He had just arrived in Londium; tired after a long day's journey, Sir Anikus and his steed proceeded towards the Palace, surrounded by a company of Royal Knights twenty strong. They were immersed in the glory and culture of the Seawall City; on both sides of the cobblestone streets, crowds cheered on Anikus, the Hero of the Realm, responsible for leading the effort to slay the Dragon that had plagued the northern cities for so long. The crowds, composed of the young and old from all walks of life, cheered he and his entourage on as heroes.

The small stone buildings, marked in their orderly and colourful construction, were dwarfed by towers and complexes ornate; in this realm, all had their chance at all life had to offer, and all shared in the spoils of a successful rule. The money was everywhere, but their wealth was not merely physical, so much as moral, spiritual, and national. To the Knight, it was all his. It would be his shortly; after all, he deserved it. A man took what he deserved, did he not? He glanced down to the sword at his side. Ordinarily, it was silver and pure. It appeared somehow tarnished as Anikus realized exactly what he had thought--but despite his protests, he continued riding and thinking as... normal.

His entourage entered the Palace court. Dismounting, they began to walk in orderly fashion towards the oak doors of the Palace. Surrounding them were several statues. They seemed to look down upon them; the lapis luzuli eyes of Saint Maria glowed, for a moment, like stars. He begged them to hide their fires; they peered into him, and saw his dark desires for what they were. The sword felt heavier, but also sharper; more tantalizing. It had tarnished itself even more. Despite Anikus now being thoroughly worried, his pace quickened. He licked his lips. He then led the column into the Palace's Great Hall.

An admirable musician played the Royal fanfare on his trumpet as they entered. On both sides of them, now, were crowds of nobles and bureaucrats; Anikus, however, zeroed in on the woman before him. From the Lion's Throne, the Queen, Abelia the First, stood. She was as dignified as someone of her station and importance could ever be expected to be; around her was an air of authority, power, and influence that the Knight craved with every fibre of his being. As he marched  towards the podium, ostensibly to receive the Kingdom's highest honours, he looked back at his comrades. Every one of them was salivating; and behind their blue capes and knightly demeanour, every last one of them was a demon, a Valdich. And all of them knew their mission here. As did he.

Anikus tried to stop himself as he broke formation. He tried to stop himself as he ascended the steps. He screamed at himself to cease as he drew his sword--which, by now, was beginning to twist and emit heat. His orders to halt did not cease as he took in the look on Her Majesty's face--that of utter shock--as her loyal servant raised his sword above his head and brought it across her neck. But at no point could the Knight contain his greed. As the Sovereign fell dead at his feet, the rest of her Court was similarly fated--their screams pierced to the centre of Anikus' soul. And yet he smiled; his work here was done. Vaaland would be pleased. The city and its fledgling Kingdom would fall, and the true Sovereigns would rule here as was fated, as had been hoped for and dreamed by Anikus ever since he had become their servant so long ago. They had the Shards; they had Londium. Outside, yells and shouts drowned out the noises of a peaceful city. The invasion would be successful, now.

His armour was now blackened, burned, and wicked; runes he could barely comprehend ran along the length of a cursed sword, which he sheathed. Blood ran down the steps; blood ran down his arms; blood was on his hands. He exited, leaving the rest of his unit to the task of burning and ransacking the Palace. They would be joined by other crews shortly. For now, he was to proceed to the city streets. The remaining Arkovan military forces in Londium had to be annihilated. Their heads would adorn pikes about their city. Nothing would stand in the way of his reward.

It was at this point that the strength of the scholar's will outdid the strength of this twisted game. He was freed of his prison; suddenly, he was behind "himself". Looking down, he seemed to glow in great contrast to the incredible gloom of the world around him. Above, the clouds stirred. And for a brief second, he realized that the perpetrator of what atrocities he could imagine was before him, walking, preparing for further villainy. Anikus drew his true sword; his gauntlet and shield were affixed. He rushed his enemy; his singular aim was to kill that which had killed his master. He was free of the constraints of this sordid vision, whatever it was, and anger consumed him utterly.

His alter ego, manifest of the Entity, looked back to see Anikus, unnatural senses warning it of his approach. It swung a gauntleted hand across Anikus' chest; it seemed to have transformed slightly. As Anikus fell to the ground, shoulder open and bleeding, his alter ego turned around. Before Anikus was a demon; before Anikus was himself. A traitor, a murderer. The Entity began to speak, but Anikus could not appreciate its words. Something was out of place; it seemed that suddenly some restriction on his thought had weakened. He began to wake up. Consuming him was a sudden lucidity.

The scholar's eyes went wide. This was a dream. It rushed back to him; the spell the Entity held over the human's mind was broken. A fire began inside of Anikus. With his newfound bravery and purpose, his shoulder closed up; his arm regained use and motion. The purpose of his time in the demon's mind was made clear to him. To leave, and to save himself and save the party he loved so much--and to prevent anything approximating the nightmare that surrounded him--he would have to kill the alter ego before him. He readied his sword. The Entity, once more, wailed like a banshee--this time approaching him with its sword drawn. It swung at him.

Anikus dodged, jumping up and picking up his katzbalger as he did so. His opponent's sword missed him by mere inches, but instantly the scholar had his counterattack. Foolishly, the demon had left his side open--and so Anikus took his opportunity, thrusting his sword deep into his opponent's side, just between the ribs. For a moment, the image of reality seemed to shudder and reform; but the alter-ego remained alive and unhindered. Recoiling, it went at Anikus again, this time with a fantastically hard swing from the side. Instinctively, Anikus blocked it with his shield, but he had underestimated its power. He was stunned, giving the Entity enough time to reply with a quicker, less extreme strike from his right.

The scholar, however, was able to block the strike with his own sword. Taking his opportunity, he pushed the sword away from himself, went in close, drew back his shielded and gauntleted right hand, and in a twist of unexpected directness simply punched his mirror-self in the face. Another wail, and a longer stun, followed. Another shimmering of the images around him told Anikus that victory was at hand--and with newfound impetus the scholar took his chance, plunging his sword deep into the demon's wicked heart in a thrust of incredible speed. A surreal experience followed; an exact replica of his own face peered up at him, as though begging him for mercy. From its mouth poured not blood, but ashes and soot; it did not die, but rather it began to peel away, as though it were parchment set aflame. The demon could not keep up its illusions any longer; the image began to fall apart almost immediately. Anikus' alter ego, kneeling at the feet of the genuine Anikus, burst into flames and sparks, becoming a pile of ashes in moments.

And like that, the vision ended.

---

OOC: I'll introduce you all to your situation post-vision after the rest of you complete your visions. Have fun.

[Vithar Megilaglar]

Takeshi and Sakura went down first, making sure to stick together. After what seems like mere seconds, they looked back only to see...

...Nothing. Soundlessly, the passage sealed itself, rendering them in utter darkness and silence. Neither whispered, let alone speak. They continued downward.

:Ever downward...: Takeshi thought, invisible frown affixed on his equally invisible face. His thoughts were interrupted, however, by a purely malign personality.

"Ah yes. Chronicler Sakura "Heisui" Kyokujitsu and her Guardian Takeshi "Kazamuki" Kyokujitsu. Your tale is a...rather simple one. But then, they don't know your true intent. How long do you both intend to hide that?

Takeshi tried to respond to the harsh, guttural growl that was the voice. The words never came. Not that they needed to. The Entity had more than enough to spare.

"Of course, why tell them what you truly are? Are they just a vehicle for your malice? A way to achieve your desires? How long till you discard them like a worn cloak? You are laughable. Stronger than some, weaker than others. And so intent to lie, to deceive. Yet you show disdain for betrayal. How quaint."

Takeshi looked for the source, before it hit him. The source...was deep inside. He suddenly had the feeling that he was slipping into a daze. He knew, somewhere, somehow, that Sakura was feeling the exact same.

---

The Keibatsu Kyuukei, their homeland, was before them. The familiar port extended it's arms out in welcoming. It did not know what came in on the silver ship, created by powerful magic. Sakura guided the ship effortlessly, despite riding in the crow's nest. Powerful magic indeed.

The ship docked by itself, and Takeshi and Sakura walked onto the pier, greeted by a dock hand, who stared at the ship and who it bore. The pair had since changed their worn garments for far more regal clothing, looking quite like a king and queen. Not many royals came to the Keibatsu Kyuukei, and these two wore out fits in the colors of the Keibatsu Kyuukei. People stared as the pair walked through the port, passing buildings and homes, parks and markets. Their goal was the Shogun's Palace, a structure, like most others in the land, relatively squat. The only thing denoting it's difference was a more ornate decor.

They had long since discarded the party as of a worn cloak. Takeshi noticed an odd waver, as if he was dizzy. Sakura looked at him quizzically and he shook his head. The sensation passed.

The pair entered the palace unbidden, ignoring the protests of the Shogun's Guards. They soon stood before the Shogun, who had been talking strategy with some of his generals. Takeshi looked around, seeing his father. Again, the wavering. This time, Sakura felt it too. They dismissed it as nothing. The generals were dismissed. The table showed several areas covered in black. Valdich possessions. Included in the black...was Arkova.

Takeshi and Sakura walked gracefully to either side of the Shogun, who started to protest, only to fall writhing to the ground. Sakura attempted to stop herself before she would do what would happen next. Unbidden, her body responded to dark impulses. A thin, bright beam extended between her hand and the Shogun's chest. He stopped writhing.

One thing was done. Takeshi took out the Shards. They had tested with them earlier. Now, the Shards seem to reverberate, as if they knew what was to come next. The pair focused on the Shards, turning centuries-old magic around. Turning the shards from their original purpose into weapons.

They first turned the entire nation of the Keibatsu Kyuukei to their loyalty. Suddenly, bloodlessly, the entire land would follow them unquestioningly. They focused on the next task. Using the map, they turned the Shard-weapons to the black zones. Soon, the Valdich horde would be nothing but ash. The Shards hovered over the map. They glowed bright. One could almost see the heavenly beam, hear the screams as thousands of Valdich burned under the intense light. Again and again, like malcontent children who found sick amusement in setting insects alight with naught but a magnifying lens. One more time, over Arkova.

The vision froze, crystalized. The crystal layer shattered. Takeshi and Sakura were outside themselves. Or rather, outside their darkselves.

They looked at each other, knew what must be done.

The future...it was mutable. This was only one possible outcome. An outcome that must not come to pass. So, they attacked themselves. The original flash of bravery did nothing to stop the pain.

Vision it might be, but oh! the teeth-grating pain of being shocked by years of power, of torment, as if it would never end. Pain took on a new meaning, one of eternity and suffering.

Sakura fought anyways, freeing herself of the pain and taking out her bow and aimed. Takeshi with similar timing, broke from the pain and rushed his darkself, knocking away the sword, oh so similar to his own. He fought as Sakura and her darkself took aim. Then, as one, Sakura and Takeshi finished the job. Her aim was true, his lunge never better.

The entire dream-image froze again, crystallized again. This time, however, the entire thing shattered section by section. First the surrounding background, then the war-table, then the "Shards", then themselves. The crystal shards flew away, into oblivion.

In a crystal rain, Takeshi and Sakura embraced each other, as much out of love as for support.

"Sakura," Takeshi whispered, "Never let me see me do that again."

"As long as you promise to do the same for me," she whispered.

---

((Since Pyth never mentioned it...

Whenever the entity speaks, it is Red, Bold, Courier New.

For precedent's sake))

[Lyon]

Telchi followed the frontrunners into the darkness, moving lightly on his feet as he walked further into the passageway. He was ready for any attack, or so he thought. But when the voice of the Entity seemed to resonate within his skull, it caught him completely off-guard.

"Warrior of the proud North, why do you serve the Arkovan like a groveling dog? His actions have come close to killing your friends many times, and yet you remain loyal? You allow him to continue in his path of destruction? WHY HAVE YOU COME?"

Telchi gritted his teeth. His feet seemed frozen to the ground. "To..." he began. His words caught in his throat. The Entity sensed his pain and uncertainty, and laughed, its voice booming inside his head.

"To atone for your failures? FOOL! Nothing you do can ever make up for what you did. You failed all of them. Their blood is on your hands as surely as it stained the snows of the North, and you will pay for it dearly! Macenor Telchi, Warrior of the Selkens..." The Entity paused for a moment, contempt in its not-voice. "Chieftain of a tribe long dead... your blood will join that of your tribe and family in the halls of the Winter King!"

---

He had felt the cold before, but never so harshly as this. The blizzard seemed to tear at the edges of his cloak, trying to leave him open to the wind and flying ice. He drew the cloak tighter around him with one gauntleted hand. He was glad his armor was of bone plates and not metal: the mere touch of a finger to a metal plate could chill it beyond any hope of healing.

A tall figure, swathed in cloak and armor as he was, trudged through the snow towards him, booted feet lifting high to avoid being caught ankle deep. The woman pulled down her face cover long enough to utter a single word. "Ready?"

Macenor nodded tersely, his hand inadvertantly going over his shoulder to check that both of his blades were still secured to his back, strapped crossways beneath his cloak. He pointed one hand towards the distant, shadowy fortress, barely visible through the whirling northern snows, and chopped it down. Then he began to run. More warriors rose from the ground around him and followed across the white wastes.

The Selken warriors, fifty strong, crossed the space at a swift lope. The fortress loomed up before them, and Macenor felt a chill: this was the palace of the Winter King, the absolute ruler of the Icesheets, and the mortal enemy of his people. This day, he would prove his worthness to lead the Telchi--his tribe--in battle. This day, he would destroy the Winter King once and for all, and rid the North of his scourge forever.

The towering gates stood before them. At Macenor's signal, five mages, distinguished from the rest by their lighter, sleeker furs and lack of weapons, stood forward. Standing in a pentagon, they raised their right fists in unison, pointing them at the gates. Fire bloomed around the archway, and as the mages stepped forwards, stamping their left feet and raising their left arms in unison, the doors fell inward with a great groaning crash. A cheer went up from the Selkens as the great doors collapsed inward. The warriors ran forward again.

Macenor felt the first stirrings of doubt at the lack of resistance. The neatly laid cobbles of the courtyard were cleared of snow and ice, and easy footing for the Telchi warriors, but the soldiers of the Winter King would usually be patrolling. He was confident of his people's ability to defeat them, but their absence was disturbing. If the Winter King's soldiers aren't here, then where are they?

The doors of the Great Hall stood ahead. The mages stepped forward again, and with a lesser spell blasted them wide open. The Telchi poured in, swords out and in battle positions. Macenor felt a stirring of pride at his fierce, warlike people. They were worthy to rid the North of the Winter King, and he was a worthy leader to command them. Macenor entered the hall last of all, stepping proudly, and looking forward to the head of the hall. He bared his teeth in a wolflike smile upon seeing what awaited him.

The Winter King, dressed in furs of a deep black, stood before his throne of ice on the dais. A sword, half its blade white as the snow and half as black as the night, was held point down in the ice before him, both hands resting on the hilt. His hair was the same pale white as his skin, a sign of his great age, but the face of the sorcerer-lord was smooth. He regarded Macenor coldly as the young Selken stepped forward into the hall.

"Foolish boy, why do you disturb me?" he said in a voice that was colder than the blizzard raging outside. Macenor threw back his hood and looked proudly up at the Winter King, his tribesmen following suit. His voice, when he spoke, was clear and pure as ice.

"We are the Telchi. Your reign here is over, Winter King." Macenor felt Derin and Aenor's presences at his back. The warriors were two of the best in the tribe, and had served his father before him. Their mission was for revenge as much as his was: both their fathers, men old enough to be his grandfathers, had perished at the Winter King's hands when Macenor's father attacked the fortress years ago.

The Winter King's lips curled upward in a cold smile, and he laughed. The sound of his laughter echoed throughout the hall, and Telchi felt a deep chill that had nothing to do with the cold.

"Young fool. You came here to save your people, but you have condemned them to an early death. He raised his hands, and a spear of ice shot from the wall behind him. Aenor dove, knocking Macenor out of the way, as two of the Selken warriors rushed towards the throne. The Winter King's smile widened, and he lifted his hands.

The floor beneath the Selken warriors' feet rippled, and they slowed, fighting to keep their balance. With another swift motion of his hands, the Winter King sent spears of ice through them. They turned agonized faces to Macenor as they died. Harric. Delmud.

Four more Selkens ran towards the throne, dodging and weaving as the Winter King, teeth bared in a wide smile, sent arrows of ice and blasts of wind at them, forcing them back from him. "Dance, you barbarian scum, dance!" he laughed. One of the Telchi stumbled, and an arrow took her through the head. Macenor's heart tightened. Ranna.

A fire-haired woman swinging a claymore with both hands leapt onto the banquet table, screaming a war cry. She launched herself at the Winter King, who brought up his sword suddenly. The battle shout became a scream as the weapon impaled her leaping body. As she fell to the ground, Macenor heard her agonized gasps. "Macenor... help us..."

Aerin. Another two of the Telchi advancing on the throne fell to spears and stones. Rechis. Lathal. The final warrior reached the dais, both swords raised, only for the Winter King to seize him by the throat in one withered hand and hurl him at the table. There was a sharp crack as the man's body struck, and he did not rise. Macenor stood frozen. Tylan.

Now a rumbling was heard, and suddenly ice golems began to drop from the ceiling among the waiting warriors. Telchi swung at their opponents. Sometimes their swords cracked the smooth faces and forms of the implacable opponents. A warrior swinging a saber shattered a golem moving towards Macenor's back. A second and third golem forced him back towards Macenor, and as the young man stood frozen, they closed in. Icy fingers closed around the man's throat, and though he thrashed and struggled, his face purpled and he grew still. The golem threw him to the floor and Macenor, looking at his feet, recognized in the distorted face a man he knew.

Anikus.

His vision seemed to sharpen, and suddenly he recognized the corpses lying around him. One, slumped against a pillar, blood darkening her already red hair. Kaethe. One man fallen, and a woman struggling to defend his body from the golems. Takeshi. Sakura. A lone man, forced into the corner by an overwhelming force of golems, and disappearing beneath their icy bodies. Grimlain. One by one, he watched his friends fall and die, until only one remained. A tall man with a claymore, on the dais fighting the Winter King himself.

Thalmir. Macenor, his paralysis suddenly gone, ran towards the dais. A wall of golems barred his way, but he shattered the torso of one with a pommel strike and launched himself off its still-coherent legs. He reached the dais just as the Winter King thrust his sword through Thalmir's chest.

Macenor's swords dropped from his nerveless hands, and he ran to his friend. Cradling the dying ranger in his arms, he did not notice as the golems closed in around them. A dull thought pushed at the corner of his mind, gradually growing until it filled his whole being. The Winter King smiled as he raised his sword, but Macenor looked him levelly in the eye.

"My decisions have led to the fall of the Telchi. But that was in the past, wasn't it? None of these people were here... which means that this place doesn't exist. Nor do you." The Winter King's face twisted with rage, and he let out a scream that shook the icy ceiling. Macenor closed his eyes as the blade descended.

The scream stopped. Macenor opened his eyes. He was sitting on the Winter King's throne. Of the dead and the dying there was no sign. The whole hall was clear, and pure as the driven snow.

Macenor spoke aloud to the empty hall. "I am the last of the Telchi. I will not let my fears or my weaknesses dishonor my people, nor will I fail my friends again. Winter King... we shall meet again."

It was Macenor who stood, and it was Macenor who walked the long aisle to the great doors, but it was Telchi who pushed them open and stepped out into the blizzard. The storm consumed him, surrounded him, and blinded him. From the torrent of white came his thoughts.

No regrets. No mercy. No matter what.

Telchi passed from whiteness to blackness.

[Chef]

Grimlain went down into the tunnel, following closely behind the others in the darkness.  The walk was silent, as the others were probably focusing on trying to find their way, when suddenly, the entrance behind them closed and everything went to hell.  Grimlain found himself heading down the dark tunnel, feeling as if there was no one else around him, though he wasn't sure if this was true or not.

"You have wandered far, nameless one.  So many wasted years following a dream that would never come true.  It is a pitiful story.  It's the story of an empty man.  A man without an excuse to keep on living. I can't even begin to understand that drives you, aside from selfish greed, perhaps.  Why do you continue to move on in this endless period of nothing.  There is no reason for someone as pathetic as yourself to be here."

Grimlain did not believe it, but there was something inside his head.  It had invaded his thoughts, implanting words in his mind that he could not erase or fight.  They were persuasive words.  Scathingly persuasive.  What reasons did he have for living, anyways?  Grimlain stopped for a moment, falling down to one knee and grasping his head.

"Everything you have fought for is dead.  Your friends, your family, and even yourself.  You are nothing but a husk of the man you once were.  You are the failed future of your own self.  You should be ashamed of breathing the same air your predecessor breathed.  If I were you, I'd just... quit."

Grimlain couldn't take it.  He could not argue against these words so craftily formed.  Whatever was inside him was speaking the truth.  He was pathetic.  There was no reason for him...  No.  There were plenty of reasons for him to live.  He was with people he cared about.  He was on a planet that lived and breathed, and he could observe every minute of it.  There was no need for him to end this wonderful existence.  But these thoughts only gave him more pain as the being taking over his mind was angered.

"So you resist?  Interesting.  This is nothing but an act of selfishness.  You feel sorry for yourself.  I understand.  But the honest truth is that you failed.  You have failed everyone that has ever walked by your side and trusted you.  To let them die and continue living on this life is a sin.  It is a sin that you will not avoid.  You should die...  Please... Just die...  I don't want to see this anymore... JUST GIVE UP."

---

It was raining.  Grimlain could tell as the water pattered on the roof of his small house and hit the panes of his window.  He was inside his home, sitting in his favorite chair, watching the forest outside.  He had his pipe in hand, smoking it thoughtfully in the dark room.  There was no light, save for the handheld candleholder next to him on the table.  It was midnight; too late for him.  But somehow he was not tired.  There was something compelling about staying awake in the middle of the night, sitting in a room by himself.

Grimlain could not have been more comfortable.  He was dressed in a loose tunic, with no weapons or armor attached.  It almost felt like he was free from all his burdens without those things on his person.  The chair he sat on was cushioned with cloths that his wife had made, patterns that only she could form with her creative mind.  He felt his face, noticing he was neatly groomed, his hair tidy and pushed back.  It almost felt perfect, but something was missing.  He wasn't sure what it was, but it bothered him.

Something urged him, however, to take the candleholder and get up to check on his family.  He stepped out of the room he was in, opening the door to their bedroom, the candle-light dimly lighting his path.  The room was just as he thought it was.  His wife was asleep in her bed, his spot empty.  She looked beautiful, even in this state.  On the other side of the room was a smaller bed, his son sleeping on it.  He was quiet, as if he wasn't even dreaming about anything.  The peace on his face was unmatched.

Grimlain smiled, satisfied with what he saw here.  There was nothing wrong in the world.  His mind was cleared of all conflict, as there was nothing for him to resolve.  But suddenly... quite dimly... a noise was growing in his ears.  It was a distant melody, something strange, yet familiar, coming from afar, it seemed.  It sounded as if it were coming from a music box.  He quickly stepped out of the room, the noise getting slightly louder with each step until he decided it was definitely coming from outside.  He stepped to the door leading outside, placing his hand on the knob and pushing it open, revealing the rainy village, hardly lit by the moonlight.  The second he set foot on the ground outside, something happened.

The flame had died.

The moon had died.

The world had died.

What was once a serene forest village turned into a place filled with nothing but death.  The grass on the ground before him was now dead and singed, the water making muddy and dark puddles.  Houses all around were now burnt, the products of a brutal torching.  Animals were dead on the ground.  Every single kind.  Brutally massacred, several pieces of each were scattered across the ground like a puzzle.  Humans were there too, but only women and children.  None else.  Then, with a start, he gasped, and turned to his own home, bursting through the burnt door inside.  He ran through the wrecked room and into the bedroom, slamming the door open.

What he saw was unreal.  There were bags on both beds, both wet at the bottom.  He walked slowly to the one on his wife's bed, untying the top and looking in.  The stench of rotten meat filled the air, and Grimlain reeled back in terror, the bag falling over and spilling guts and gore on the floor, pieces of his wife that looked like they had been put through a meat grinder.  He did not check the bag on his child's bed.

Grimlain tore at his hair, walking out of the room, puking all over the walls and slipping on the wet ground as he crawled out of his house, helpless like an animal.  Rain pelted his face, washing the blood from his hands and he fell into the ground.  He wanted to forget this all happened and fall asleep.  But the melody coming from the music box rang in his head.

Grimlain groggily stood up, walking towards the source of the sound once more as if he were possessed.  He passed what decorated the sides of the muddy road he walked on, ignoring all the horrors.  They were all part of him, and he did not want to see them torn to pieces like they were now.  The noise was getting louder, and that was all he wanted to focus on.

The source was getting closer until he finally came to his destination.  A lone tree, the only living one left in this village, was standing before him.  Its branches were full and it had a healthy look about it, though leaves were slowly falling off, as if it were Fall.  Under one of the larger branches was a chair, where the music box seemed to be sitting on, still running.

Grimlain approached the chair slowly, picking up the music box, looking at it with curiosity.  It was old and rusted, but it was still playing as if it were new.  Before he did anything else to the box, he looked up, finding that there was a noose hanging on the branch above the chair.  Grimlain's eyes widened and he dropped the box on the ground, letting it splashing in the puddle.

There was something alluring about that rope.  Something that possessed Grimlain to want to step on the chair and greet it.  It was his only friend left, after all.  With a careful step, Grimlain rose up on the chair, balancing himself as he gripped the rope with his hands, feeling its roughness in his palms.  There was something in his head, almost urging him on, giving him pleasant and sound advice, telling him to give in and join his friends and family.

Grimlain couldn't argue with that.

The noose fit quite nicely around his neck, and he made sure it was snug enough that he wouldn't have any problems with it once he gave the final kick.  Grimlain couldn't help but smile.  He was doing this for everyone.  This was for his wife, his kid, his friends, and, above all, himself.  There was nothing stopping him now to deny him paradise.

As Grimlain was about to kick the chair out from under him, he noticed the music box once more, in the puddle below him, and he couldn't help himself but to peer closely at it and examine the text he had failed to see the first time he picked it up.  It was hard to make out from here, but the inscription on the cover of the box became apparent to Grimlain in seconds.

"Live on."

The box proclaimed it broadly enough.  Grimlain pulled the noose from his neck quickly and fell down to the box, falling to his knees in the puddle.  This box saved him.  He knew he had recognized the familiar melody.  It was a present from his wife at a point in his life when he felt as if the whole world was against him.  She gave him the box with those two words on it, and it restored him.  No shade could erase that from his memory.  Not even the one controlling his thoughts now.  Grimlain gripped the music box tightly in one hand and began to weep, covering his face with the other hand.

Grimlain's dream was over.

Edited by Chef, 28 February 2011 - 12:11 AM.

[illuminaughti]

Dionys felt a twinge of misgiving when she noticed the divining charm twitch in protest as she followed her new comrades. When the warm wet walls closed around her it was the necklaces plaintive glow that illuminated the slick groping walls. Her connection to its whispered secrets was replaced by a  alien persona. She recognized it as the malicious presence that swept over her accompanied by green light while she was bound by the spider's silk.

An acrimonious voice forced into her head and began to call to her “Dionys...” It was a melange of voices each familiar with her for each had taken her. She squirmed against the muscular contractions of the walls as they crushed against her. The diviner scrambled to close off her mind to the world around her, but it hung open like a gaping wound. Intimate knowledge of where she had felt it before kept bubbling to the surface.

“Yes, you've felt me before. I didn't realize I would awaken that power within you, but you are going to die soon so it is no matter. You think yourself so wise, with your foreknowledge...but things are not always as they seem. You are a blind fool, Dionys... so misled and lied to... “the tone of these polyphonic voices was patronizing and dripped in malice. “But, you'll find that out and then you will die.” The voice warned as the crushing weight against her body squeezed the last of her breath from her and sent her spiraling into unconsciousness.

The sterile darkness faded, yet darkness remained. Her eyes merely closed, a slender crescent of light pierced her blindness. The air was fragranced, it smelled like home and deeply resonated with her, but her mind raced to place it. It was so familiar yet far removed. Her lids parted and by the light of stubby long-burned candles she could see her Master's quarters as she had seen them countless times before. Dionys gathered her senses and swore that she had just awoken from the strangest dream. One of dust and jungles and spiders. It had seemed so real that the silk sheets against her cheek felt surreal and their caress brought goosebumps down her body.

The prince was not beside her nor did his depression mark his side of the bed as being slept in. Dionys sat up, frightened by his absence. The funny dream had left her feeling she had not seen him in a very long time, when surely it had only been a few hours.

Anxiously she slid from betwixt those exquisite sheets. They were a far cry from the places she had slept in this castle before the prince had caught her eye and claimed her as his own. She knew instinctively where to find him. Her secret sense never faltering at finding her what she craved. Her bare-feet padding over tapestries and cold stone floor alike as she moved across the room and out the door. Hushed voices from the sitting room beyond beckoned her.

She found her prince and before her heart could leap with joy she noticed the pale female legs entwined with his own dark flesh. Dionys did her best to stifle the moan of anguish rising in her throat. The prince unfurled himself from his coupling and stood. He coldly and silently surveyed his slave before raising his voice for his vanguard. The captain entered the room, not batting an eye at his master's naked body standing over his new conquest. He stood erect and ready to receive the order.

“Take her away. I am through with her.” The prince said pointing at the stunned woman who had just entered the room but never turned to face her. Dionys knew she would never again see his face. The prince now returned to his position on the floor before the fire and resumed his activities.

The anguish that had exploded in her belly now turned to a great block of ice that settled in her stomach . It started melting when the captain of the royal guard grabbed her roughly, sending trickles of ice water down her veins, but it never seemed to shrink in size. When he pushed her mercilessly through the castle that had once been her home, it sometimes hardened and seemed to expand until Dionys felt as if it would come spilling out or that she would choke or scream. It felt like this when he callously pushed her into the pitch black dungeon cell, blindly she fell upon the dirty straw. It stuck to her naked body, wet as if she had been swimming, yet her cheeks were dry all the tears frozen in place behind pale blue eyes.

She closed those useless eyes and tried to remember the dream she had woken from. It had been a nightmare, full of choking eldritch horrors, of things growing and rotting away. It had been a dream of pain, and brutality. In her dream she had killed and would kill again. It was a dream with a wet heat and steam rising from mounds of rotting vegetation. She buried her face in her hands, pushing against them until spirals of light danced beyond closed lids. She had dreamed of fire in her veins that spilled out of her hands, empowering her.

She remembered in a flash of insight that this was the dream not what she had awoken to find. Her prince had abandoned her, but not like this. This was a fiction.

A blue flame burned in the center of her mind, no she realized... the blue flame was her mind. Even the cloying asphyxiating heat of the beast was better than this cold tearless dungeon, and she pushed herself into a well-remembered trance. Before she slipped away one long sob was uttered before the blue flame caught fire to her dreamworld and sent her thundering back into reality.

[Kamikaze_X]

OOC: Sorry everyone, I have been extremely busy. HOWEVER, do expect my post here on Friday this week.

(WIP)

[Durandal]

Kaethe cautiously entered the mouth of the tunnel, doing her best to keep her breathing from panicked hyperventilation. It wouldn't do to lose my head now. Not now... She continued repeating the mantra to herself as she lost sight of the light. All was blackness... but a voice boomed suddenly from nowhere.

"I have seen thieves before, but none so pathetic as you, Kaethe Seithira," said the Entity in a mocking tone. "If you've come for the riches of my temple, you are sadly mistaken. Did you think that the others value at all? If you receive any of the riches, it will be to pay for an insincere funeral."

"You don't know that," snapped Kaethe in a wavering voice. "What do you know about us, anyway? What do you know about me?"

"More than your puny mind could imagine," the Entity scoffed. "I know that soon you will be reduced to begging your so-called friends for scraps! They will not help you then. They've been looking for a chance to get rid of you since this quest began. You've been nothing but ill-luck and dragging weight to them."

"You... you don't know that," stammered Kaethe.

A deep chuckle from the Entity was her only answer.

---

Marketta silently dropped into the hole while the others bickered of this situation; she seemed to look up to the group as skilled and quite adaptable, however they seemed to do more complaining than the likes of most other people. As she stuffed this opinion away for further meditation on a later date, she realized something was off about this hole : instead of the rocky, rough surface she'd expect to send her into a catacombs of sorts, it was a slimy, fleshy tube that spelled worse to come. She had silently prayed earlier to any being that existed that this wouldn't result, however it seems her prayer was answered - through mockery. Whatever god existed, it was likely sadistic and cruel; the blabbering of the group came to mind as she realized just how bad things were that day she found their ship. Of course, given their amount of misfortune, this god was obviously sadistic in some way or form. As she wished this trek to be over and their disgusting trip to this haunting forest be over, she could sense an end to the tunnel - one could barely make out the outlines, however pitch black consumed her as she could feel her ride end, falling to the soft, squishy ground. One could barely make out the light that came from the tube, and she wished to return to the top, however the room eerily attracted her, pulling her in.

Although she could see nothing for the moment, she could feel something animated in the room - it sounded disturbing and mushy, like the wriggling of a thousand worms or the like. As she focused in on this sound, she noticed something else - the tickle of any object-- no, more than one, feeling her, as if sensing her presence through touch. With the coming moments she could feel a fume pocket burst near her, however she could feel or smell nothing. Slowly her body twitched and stuttered, and before long she felt something sifting through her mind, reading, analyzing it. Struggling, she tried to escape, however her body had grown limp without notice, and her struggle soon became futile as she felt a motion outside of her body, moving her ever so slowly towards something else. She was obviously paralyzed, and whatever hole that had been jumped into was apparently some huge lifeform. Slowly, her eyes relaxed and closed - soon whatever was hoped to be seen in the dark room was overlapped by pitch black. As the silence of the room followed, she could no longer hear the squirming in the room. The terrifying silence enclosed her and compressed her, and she could feel something else watch in pleasure as the silence terrified her.

Then it spoke - not in a voice, but in writing. Sloppy, glowing handwriting seemed to appear from the center of her mind, whatever entity it was calmly speaking to her. It terrified her and it knew it, every word written as if with sinister intent in the silence of her mind, however it seemed dumb to this fact.

Greetings, Marketta Henrike Sohvik. You seem quite content with the fact you work with a bunch of traitors. Don't you realize it? Their ploys, how they use you as a puppet for their own means? Or are you merely too naive to believe that your party members could sacrifice you when it seems most convenient?

She tried to fight the presence; she could not feel herself speak, however she could feel her mind communicate its denial of such an absurd theory to this unknown presence. It seemed to chuckle in response, if one could convey text into such things.

You're quite the interesting woman. Reliable, loyal... Gullible. You also seem to pick poorly in your relationships. She's cocky and rash, and attempted to publicly embarrass you, and yet you still hold feelings for her. Perhaps, you and your lover merely need a shift of heart.

---

Kaethe awoke with a shiver, wondering how she could ever have gotten to sleep. The floor she had been lyin on was hard, she was cold, and the noise was unbelievable. There were people in the street, shouting and screaming, and the distant sounds of a battle. Kaethe limped over to the window, trying to minimize her contact with the ice-cold stone-flagged floor, and opened it to look out.

To the northwest, smoke rose over the rooftops of the great port city. Fires burned near to the wall, the work of the invaders' catapults, and looking down she could see people fleeing through the streets, trying to make their way to the docks. She saw a knot of burly men bulling through the crowd, knocking others out of the way. A frail young man with the look of a scribe fell to the ground and was trampled by the frightened mob. One of the thuggish men looked up at her and leered. Only then did she realize she was naked.

She hurriedly backed away from the window, looking around the room. Her clothes were nowhere to be seen, and she recalled a foggy memory of the previous night. Emboldened, or rather stupefied, by the local brews, she had made several rash wagers. Not even the money she usually kept in reserve had been spared, and at the last she had gambled away even her clothing.

But someone helped me... She looked to the bed and saw a familiar cat-eared head. Incredulously, she said aloud, "Marketta?" I need to depend on her? What am I going to do?

Marketta felt herself slowly awaken from a cold, unsatisfactory sleep; she could hear someone ponder aloud her name, as if she was confused on how the woman had found herself in her current position. In the background something worse was occurring - shouts and screams of terror erupted from outside the room to a presence unknown by the others. Fighting every urge to just ignore the sounds and the person, she shifted in her bed to face the speaker. As she turned to view this person, her eyes shot open in sheer surprise as her body suddenly became alert and stiff, a stark contrast to the lazy, limp state she was in before.

The person before her was undeniably Kaethe, of all things, she somehow expected this, somewhat blurry flashbacks giving her clues as to why she was here. However, that was not what made her suddenly stir - it was that she was stark naked. She could feel herself grinning mischievously, a part of her mind obviously pleasured by this sight, however a more drawing attention was placed first priority - whatever was happening outside was not good. Jumping awake, she could see that all of her apparel remained, likely so tired as to not undress herself for an adequate night's rest. As her mind began to assert the situation, she began to spit out rather absent-mindedly lingering thoughts.

"Kaethe? How did... Why are you... Why are we... What did we... What's going on?"

Starting for the window, she noticed just what was happening beyond the walls of the cabin. Utter chaos wreaked havoc - people ran through the streets, fleeing an impending invasion, smoke in the distant showing where this terror was originating from. As she turned back to Kaethe, naked and obviously searching for anything at all, another flashback revealed more. Apparently, she had trusted Kaethe far too much in the ways of gambling, and because of it Kaethe came out empty-handed, with possible missing items from Marketta herself - she felt betrayed by Kaethe, her mind brooding in anger over last night, and what else this woman possibly lured her into doing. However, upon searching she found money in her pockets, and essential weapons untouched nearby. This money did no good at the moment, thus stealing was the only option - wait, what? Baffled by her own mind, she felt a slowly dawning mindset engulf her actions.

Whatever presence this was attempted to explain away the need to steal and pillage items in order to escape unharmed, and although she could not argue the logic, she still felt it morally wrong; however the part of her brain in control didn't seem to care. Her actions now seemed under jurisdiction by this rogue presence, and she was in no further command of whatever she did, it seemed. Turning to Kaethe, this new presence stole her voice, shoving the now pondering side of her mind into the passenger seat on a proverbial ride.

"You seem ill prepared to escape, given how you lack clothes and equipment. We'll raid this tavern for some clothing, then find a store or what-not and you'll get a weapon. I can lend you my Crossbow Pistol, and some bolts, however we'll need to find you a sword. I have a feeling we aren't escaping her without a fight of some sort." She sneered in the safety of her mind at this new Marketta, however it was ineffective. Whatever had overcome her was in full control - and it felt oddly familiar.

"Please... just get me something," said Kaethe faintly, trying unsuccessfully to cover herself up with her hands. She risked another quick glance out the window. "By the looks of it we have three hours to get to the docks and out of the city. I doubt that the garrison can hold for long." In the back of her mind she was privately astonished that she was saying such things. "I'll wait for you here." There was a scream from further down the hall, and the sound of breaking glass. Kaethe looked nervously over her shoulder towards the door. "On second thought, I'll come with you. You first." She strapped on the weapons belt that Marketta handed her: it felt silly to wear a quiver and nothing else, but at least it was something.

Marketta merely nodded and moved onwards, knowing Kaethe was forced to follow suit. As she grabbed the knob and opened the door, she noticed a certain individual busy ransacking rooms for goods - a peculiar time to loot, given how the city was under siege. Despite this, she avoided the looter, attempting to sneak past in further search of something for her companion to wear. At this point, the ransacker had turned her attention to other needs, such as the searching of rooms for any valuables worth profit. Her type of person. How do you accept this? Ugh. Her true mind protested, but to no avail. Waving for Kaethe to come out of the room, she unsheathed her Kukri and prepared for anything too sudden. If they were caught, anyone would probably treat them like they would any criminal in times of anarchy such as this - with violence. Her plan was to get clothes, and get out as soon as possible. Time was of the essence, and distractions would get them slaughtered.

Kaethe stepped out into the hallway and, looking down, noticed the looter. Her face flushed, but with anger rather than embarrassment. How dare this person do such a thing? It's bad enough that the city is under attack... some people will take advantage of anything. She noticed Marketta standing by idly. "Aren't you going to do anything about this?" she demanded in a low voice, not wanting to attract the woman's attention until it was absolutely necessary.

Marketta answered in an equally low-key voice, trying to convince her companion to her logic. "We've got bigger things to handle besides being vigilantes. If she wants to ransack, she can face the impending army herself." Finishing her persuasive sentence, she cursed silently under her own breath, realizing that this character had noticed them; whatever attracted her to them remained unclear as she charged them. "Never mind! We need to ru-" It was too late, any avenue of escape was too dangerous to attempt, given the circumstances. Taking out her Crossbow, Marketta was forced to make short work of the attacker, silencing her before she could wound Kaethe. Running over to the body, she realized how she was a plethora of goodies and necessities alike. Not only did she don clothes and weapons usable by Kaethe, she also had an interesting amount of money and other valuables stuffed into various places. Taking whatever was not essential to Kaethe and filing her pockets, she undressed the woman and gave them to Kaethe.

"Here's some clothes. Put them on, we need to leave. Now." Her true mind cringed as her new form actually gave Kaethe those disgusting clothes; it felt cold-hearted and foul, especially so when realizing the looted money and other trinkets she had stuffed in her pockets. Looting a looter wasn't any more right. Kaethe looked at the dead woman's clothes with distaste, and with even more so as Marketta moved the body into a side room. However, she put them on without complaint, refastening the sword belt over them. It's better than going naked, she thought with a slight sigh.

Realizing Kaethe was ready to move onwards, Marketta made her way downstairs to find Grimlain. At least one thing had gone right - they now knew the group was here, and that made chances of survival rise quite a bit, however something was off. Ignoring this prodding urge to investigate whatever was missing, Marketta gave a reassuring wave to his friend. "Grimlain! I didn't think we'd find you here; would you happen to know where the others in the group are?" With a small grunt, Grimlain turned to face Marketta and Kaethe, unsheathing his sword. Whatever hope they had was crushed with his charge - they had been betrayed by their group. Even in the turmoil of the invasion, the group found time to slaughter them like sheep. Maybe they had all been a part of the invasion - turning on the only two who didn't suspect it, to remove all evidence until further notice.

However, none of this mattered now. Grimlain was no friend, he was an enemy, and he would be dealt like one - running was not an option, for other members probably awaited. "Kaethe! The party has betrayed us! Prepare for a fight!" Dodging Grimlain's initial charge, Marketta unsheathed her Kukri and prepared to counter-strike as he recoiled from the missed blow. Spinning to face her, they began to duel - she would likely not hold out for long, given how she was wielding a Kukri, however she parried best she could, using finesse and agility to attempt to strike down her opponent. Kaethe's help would be much appreciated.

Raising the short sword that she had taken from the looter's corpse, Kaethe sprinted forward and stabbed Grimlain between the shoulder blades as hard as she could. The blade punched through the rough leather armor he was wearing, and he fell without a sound. Kaethe realized with some trepidation that tears were running down her cheeks, and her lips were forming words of their own volition.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry..." She realized that Marketta was looking at her and hurriedly wiped her eyes. "Let's get away from here," she said softly.

As the battle concluded, the two fled to the streets, leaving the tavern, and their former comrade behind. As they reached the primitive sidewalks of the town, they realized just how quickly the citizens were fleeing - the streets at this point in time had thinned to a small amount of citizens, along with the victims of the chaos - trampled men and women who tried to still escape the impending army whilst suffering from such things as possible broken limbs. Marketta's mind looked on in horror at such a deterring display, a depressing image of survival of the fittest. However, her new self seemed unaffected by this atrocity - ignoring the individuals behind selfishly as she and Kaethe both fled from whatever was coming their way. After catching up with the retreating civilians, Marketta realized there was a fork in the road - she hadn't remembered the layout of the town by far, however she could see one side favored the right - for the sake of speed and possible room, the left was chosen.

Choosing the minority of citizens, they were soon drawn to a new sort of trouble. As Marketta and Kaethe waded through the citizens, they could hear their names being called - familiar voices filled their ears as they searched for the source. As they noticed figures in the distance, shouting and waving above all the racket, it soon dawned on the 2 adventurers who they were - there parents. Marketta's cheerful, locked away mind metaphorically jumped with joy at this sign, relieved that their parents were there, and will likely be able to guide them out. So much was to be told to their parents. However a lingering aggression in her new form shook at the sight of her parents - why did it think this way? Her parents were nice people, however her body shivered with fear and her fake mind grew furious, fear and anger pent up from years before unleashing again in her mind, fake events that seemed too real, yet unrelated. What would happen?

Marketta slowly approached her parents, caution causing this new Marketta to be alert and wary, sneering as she met with her parents. Regardless of her demeanor, the two elderly, obviously disabled parents smiled weakly and began to ask for help, pleading to her "Would you mind giving us a hand? We're kind of slow." As the memories rushed back, Marketta could feel herself tense in fear, past beatings and drunken bouts reminding her of why she hated her parents. They might look as if innocent and gentle now, but back in their youth they spent their days making Marketta miserable, and she couldn't allow them to continue. Instead of collapsing and crying, like she wanted to, and unleash all the pent up anger that had rested inside her for years, she stood tall and denied them any help, walking away before they could object. They cried out 'what was wrong', and 'what are you doing', however they knew well enough.

Kaethe's experience however was different. Realizing her parent was here made her want to jump in joy, knowing that now she could tell him all she needed to, and present him to her new batch of friends. At least something today was going correctly. "Get your ass over here and make yourself useful, you brat." The elderly man called out to Kaethe, obviously aggravated. Kaethe found herself confused, what had she done? She didn't remember there ever being a time when she or her parent had been hateful towards each other, why was he being so foul now? "W-What? What's wrong?" She replied, wondering what had caused him to be this way. Walking over to the now old man, she received a painful cane to the shoulder, an unexpected sneering emitting from the old man. "Don't question me, twerp. Now help me out." Backing away as the cane swung at her once again, she wanted to cry. What was happening? She never remembered her parent being like this. Before she could do anything, Marketta slowly eased her away, leaving behind her own parents. What was happening?

The two continued, both heartbroken and hurt, neither showing it as they quickened their pace. This nightmare would be over soon, once they reached safety they'd probably move in together, live somewhere nice. It was strange, what was happening, however nothing could be questioned, not with an impending army spelling doom for all who stayed. Who were they anyways? They'd never asked, and never saw the enemy, they were only alerted by their presence by a crowd of running citizens.

What came next was easy enough to defeat. Sakura and Takeshi, followed by Telchi, attacked the duo, and all three were taken down easily enough, with lingering curiosity and fear following them with each party member killed. Why were they like this? What caused them to attack them? The questions bit into them and burned in their minds, curiosity growing greater and greater. They knew what was to come - Anikus. The only two absent were themselves obviously, and this left Anikus. The group leader they knew to be a striving and strong man, what would turn him against them, and order his team to try to eliminate him? Had they betrayed him? Last night was blurry, however being able to be in a bar for so long to actually sleep the entire night was a surprise, why hadn't they reported in to Anikus and the others? Maybe they had done something that had made them a target...

It took them quite awhile, but they were soon free of the city bustle, and as they made their way towards the docks, Anikus approached them, obviously enraged. He thrust at them with his sword with as little as a grunt, not allowing the two a persecution, an explanation, not even a mocking phrase. This was unlike Anikus. But then it began, his words matching perfectly, although oddly excited, an enraged side to his general way of speaking. "You betray me, and then you refuse to die, after what you've done. The Valds... It is only the beginning, the beginning of your treachery. I thought you two could be trusted." He attacked again, nearly killing Kaethe. Both looked at him in utter confusion, what had they done? They never remembered doing anything evil.

Marketta spoke up, curious and annoyed herself. "Tell us what has happened. What do you mean 'The Valds'? Why would we betray you? I don't trust you, but why would we betray you, or Telchi, or the others?" Anikus grimaced in reply, yelling in rage "You know what you've done! This... This is all your fault." Noticing a weak spot as the man recoiled in sudden thought. Thrusting her blade in, a deeply disturbed Kaethe let out a whimper. She had killed their party leader. It was out of self-defense, but why would she have to do this? The man's heart skipped a beat, his dieing words fading as he cursed the two one final time. "Your... Fault..." Before they could question what had been done, they realized two more among them.

They knew their faces, the instant they came about with their swords, they recoiled in utter surprise. Angered and surprised themselves by the dead Anikus before the two, they hissed, preparing to attack. The two quickly prepared for the first blows as they suddenly realized what was happening. They were fighting themselves. The other Marketta was the first to talk, enraged and disgusted, a first even for herself. This surprised Marketta, she never remembered being like this in her life. "You evil traitors! Not only do you kill our team and doom this town, but you try to impersonate as us! You hurt our parents and left them to die, whilst you paraded away as the Valds took this town and burned it to the ground! Now the world is doomed, and you're the cause!"

Kaethe whimpered because of this new-found anger unleashed upon the two. There counterparts attacked with vigor and surprising power, nearly killing the two where they stand. "Who are you?" Kaethe asked, dumbfound as to what was happening. "I'm Kaethe, and this Marketta! How do you not know who we are? After all, you have taken our form, and used the forms to betray our party while you left us behind!" It came with sudden surprise at first. Kaethe lunged despite herself at Marketta now, thrusting her sword into this new Marketta's stomach, the other Kaethe taking action, herself being stabbed through the chest as Marketta finished the impostor. Dropping her Kukri as they two fell, She tried to heal the wound as best she could, but nothing worked.

Marketta looked on in horror as Kaethe cringed from the blood loss. However, how was she still alive? She had sworn that she would have died. What was happening? Looking around, she noticed something odd about their forms. It was apparent now, with their bodies stiff and unresponsive. It wasn't them. A glowing in the eyes, a slight discoloration in the skin... This wasn't real. They weren't themselves. The impostors weren't them. There was something amiss about this entire situation, and she suddenly realized it. This world was flawed and fake. A figment of their worst nightmares. It took them forever to realize, but nothing was coming. But it felt so real.

Kaethe could feel this revelation as well, but still felt herself hurting from the wound none-the-less. At first, they were baffled, but something dawned on them. The killing of each other, their strange personalities... As the true forms took their place once again and pushed back these new forms, they realized what was so strange about - they were themselves. All their memories, their reactions, their speech, all the other's way of thinking. They knew how they thought now. However much they disagreed with each other, something new was growing. Staring down at the dieing Kaethe, Marketta grinned slightly.

"It's all a dream. Kaethe... Promise me when we make it to the other side, that we won't..." They were cut short by the impending army, now making itself known. They were all charging now, heading for Marketta and Kaethe. Disturbing black armor and evil faces contorted in twisted rage and pleasure, even more reinforcement. At first she looked on in horror, however a smirk appeared. They weren't real. The danger wasn't there. However despite what she thought, a stray catapult had found it's mark. Looking down to a dead Kaethe, she watched in horror as it slammed...

Nothing. Something was amiss. They were dead, however the two were next to one another, staring at each other as if they were speaking face to face. Kaethe began first, a sigh emitting into the dark. "All I've done... I'm such a mess." Marketta chuckled awkwardly, patting her companion's shoulder sincerely. What had happened was fake, an optional fate for the two which would not come to pass. What Anikus and themselves said was all false. They would never betray the team. She knew this. Kaethe would never betray Anikus, although she disliked him. "Everything can be forgiven. We can make things better. "

Kaethe stared deep into Marketta, replying "You think?... Just... Don't ever leave me."

"I do. And never. You'll always have me. I promise you this." She hugged Kaethe, happy that the two would be together. Before anything else could happen, the world faded. Black turned to white, however this time, they were absent from this empty space.

An ominous chuckle could be heard, distant, yet still warming, a sign of hope.

Edited by Durandal, 18 March 2011 - 12:30 AM.

[Redcoat]

Anikus awoke feeling terrible.

It wasn't a physical tiredness, though that was present in abundance. It wasn't physical pain or nausea, though both of those were only a dearth of endorphins away. It wasn't mental exhaustion, either, though that and the ensuing headache seemed literally to burn within his skull. The malady afflicting the scholar, after awakening from his trial, was an exhaustion of the soul. Not his literal soul, of course--if he, or anyone else in his party, even had one after that endeavour. He didn't care anymore. He let back his head, preparing to close his eyes and simply die.

The warm touch of the Entity's stomach lining, and sudden feeling of fluid at his feet, shocked him into sense again. A primal instinct, the same as had animated him against the Entity's psychological invasion of his mind, animated him once more. He took in his surroundings. He just had to get out. Just had to get out of here.

Around him was his team--their auras were obvious. All of them, it seemed, had survived their ordeals; groggily, they were coming to their senses. All were bound to the wall, just like him, and all were within their own biological cells. He pulled at his bindings unsuccessfully, as the acid below began to corrode his boots slightly. They were, somehow, in a fungal species similar to the one they had entered near the beginning of the journey into this accursed forest. It didn't matter, though. Physical force hadn't worked, and his next line of defence was magic. He tapped into a power deep within himself; a survival instinct, a sort of primal anger. A moment later, he was free; around his wrists were burns, but his binds had become ash.

He drew his sword--difficultin the small space--and stabbed through the film forming the cell. He sawed it open, freedom within his grasp. And with a quick jump, he was covered in demon-guts--but also free. He could not think. He could only act. Marketta's cell was before him; he brought his sword across the membrane, opening it up. He reached in, pulling her out roughly before moving on to Grimlain's bindings.

"Let's move," Anikus said. "We have to get out of here."

[Durandal]

Marketta awoke in a cold sweat and on the verge of crying, as if awaking from a bad dream at night. However around her was not a bed, it was something else - a sort of fungi which seemed all too similar to the initial fungal body they had encountered at the start. She wanted to shed tears for some reason, however she fought back the urge, attempting to struggle free of her restraints. She could smell a sort of acid in the air - another hour or so of dreaming and she would have likely lost half her body to the likely highly acidic fluid. It didn't surprise her though - many things wanted to consume the party, it seemed. Was it her, or were humans a delicacy?

Before she could wander in thought any further, Anikus rather dramatically cut into a nearby membrane and released her from her cell, a shocked Marketta hurriedly jumping to attention with her Kukri unsheathed as the man moved on to another membrane, telling her "Let's move." She wanted to say much to the man, see if he shared some of the experiences she did, however now was not the time. Blatantly telling him "Thank you," she proceeded to aid him in cutting membranes. After all, two swords was better and quicker than one. Swinging her Kukri at the membrane before her, she asked the man, "So Anikus, you have any sort of plan on how we're going to get out of here?" Hopefully the man had some sort of idea, but given how this adventure was going, it was a long shot.

Edited by Durandal, 19 March 2011 - 07:34 PM.

[Lyon]

Telchi slumped forward out of his fungal sac with a groan, lurching upright. "Anikus, I have no idea what that was, but I want you to know I'm not blaming you for it." He  striaghtened painfully and added, "Yet."

"That sounds reassuring," mumbled Kaethe, trying vainly to brush off her clothes. She shot a covert glance over at Marketta. Did we just... did she... agh! What the hell is going on? She resolved to stay as far away from the cat-eared woman as she could. Maybe if she pretended Marketta didn't exist, she would go away...

[illuminaughti]

Dionys slipped from the sac, along with a gush of digestive fluid. Her face was flushed and furrowed in confusion and fear. "That shouldn't have been there..." she murmered to herself wiping the burning fluid from her eyes. The diviner clutched her amulet, which hung tangled between her hair matted against her breast. "I didn't realize..." she offered to the assembled strangers. "I'm sorry."

[Vithar Megilaglar]

Takeshi and Sakura fell out of the sac, both stretching.

"I...feel...like I overslept by a few years...," muttered Takeshi.

Sakura sighed. "Muchly so, my love." She looked at Anikus, and noted the burns. "Allow me to heal those, Anikus."

Takeshi, without word, attended to opening the sacs.

[Redcoat]

Anikus shook his head "no" to Sakura. As the sacks were opened, the party emerged. They had to get out of here; the tale had to continue. He did not know what animated him at this point, but it felt as though a force within him had decided not to give in, not to stop; not to become prey.

"We are inside of this Entity's stomach," he said. He looked to the room's ceiling--obviously a sort of throat. "We must cut our way out and escape up there."

With the entire party freed, he advanced to the membrane segment just under it. This place was disgusting and contemptible; the only light came from above. The biological identity of the Entity, it appeared, was plantlike; there were footholds enough to make way up with some difficulty. Anikus began; the others followed. Quickly they made their way to the top, only to be stopped by what appeared to be an enormous, muscular sphincter--the entrance to the stomach, now effectively locked. Anikus simply looked at the wall--from behind it, there was light. The membrane, here, was a barrier between them and open air, not a precursor to rock.

"Takeshi, your katana and my katzbalger are well suited. I will take the left side, you the right." The warrior nodded in agreement. Anikus continued. "On the count of three..."

The two swords came down in unison, piercing the membrane effortlessly. A few skillful cuts later resulted in the membrane falling flat, and revealing to the party a sight the likes of which they could not have possibly imagined. As they stepped through the door they had just made, the tissues behind them began to wither, even in that short time; the magic here was incredible in its strength. What was before them seemed to be a shrine.

It was wrought of smooth stone, and contacted the low cavern roof; it appeared to be the corner of a room. There were no windows, no identifying markings, and the only entrance was a hole in the wall--obviously eroded, over time, in the stone--or was it concrete?--lined with vines and further plant matter. Beckoning his party to follow, Anikus approached; Grimlain was next to him, sword drawn and at the ready. Upon arrival, they peered in; Grimlain made a small fireball which served as a candle. What greeted them was strange.

A long hallway would have extended into the distance, but it was blocked by rubble at one end; there were many rooms coming off of the section of hallway, but all could clearly see that none of these would lead anywhere thematically significant. Strange pipes lined the walls; bizarre devices did also, including strange, mounted broken mirrors and pipes connected, seemingly, to nothing. Suddenly, a room seemed to hold greater promise. A sign on it read "PERIMETR"; from behind it, all could sense a consciousness: the Entity. From within it came a light--magic, of course. The window on the door revealed that a light came from one of the magical mirrors they had passed earlier--one in working condition. Upon it was what looked like a map of some country or another; several red dots had appeared on it, and at the bottom of the screen was written the word "ARMED", surrounded by square brackets.

"This must be some sort of old religious institution," Anikus mused. "There would be no other reason to build this sort of structure. Just imagine the resources that must have went into this..."

He had to admit that his judgment didn't seem as confident, said aloud, as he would have liked it to be. This was out of any of their league. It was simply incredible. He was finally an explorer in the truest, most classical sense of the word. It was simply unfortunate that it was under these circumstances.

"We're going to enter that room. I don't know what will happen when we do, but I want you all to know that I could not have asked the Gods themselves for a better set of companions."

[Vithar Megilaglar]

Takeshi looked around. It did indeed look costly. But something nagged at the back of his mind.

Sakura voiced his mind, as if on an unseen cue. "Anikus, I don't wish to doubt you...But this place...is far, far too functional for a religious institution. It seems...I don't know. If that "ARMED" light is any indication, this might be military."

"Don't take our word, though. Of course, thank the Traveller that our adventure has so far been decent. Despite moronic misadventures."

[Chef]

The room they entered was quite peculiar to Grimlain.  It seemed almost out of this world, filled with strange things and signs that struck him as slightly creepy.  He didn't really know what they meant, but he was guessing they weren't there to welcome them.  Grimlain was wondering why Anikus was so intent on entering the room ahead, as dangerous as the situation looked.

"Give me one good reason why we should head in there," Grimlain grumbled to Anikus.  "Surely there's another way.  I don't know about you, but this place has death written all over it."

Given what had been happening for the past few hours, Grimlain definitely had an excuse to be a bit paranoid.  Ever since they had fallen into this cursed forest things they'd never wish to see popped up everywhere.  Grimlain himself was still a bit shaken from that strange dream he had, one where he almost killed himself.  He couldn't imagine himself acting so weak like that, but somehow after resisting the urge to destroy himself in the dream, he felt stronger internally.  Maybe the dream wasn't such a bad thing after all.  If anything, it had just made Grimlain stronger.

Grimlain held the flame in his hand and his sword in the other, ready for whatever was in this strange temple.  He currently had no idea where they were, and doubted anyone else did, but he knew they were definitely still underground.  The dank air and lack of light seemed to scream that fact at him.  Grimlain wasn't sure if Anikus knew what he was doing, but supposed he'd have to trust the appointed leader.

[Lyon]

Telchi looked around the shrine suspiciously. "Are you sure that this place is stable? If that... thing has physical power as well as power over our minds, it may bring the whole place crashing down around our ears, regardless of how we defeated it in the past." He noted the ARMED sign, and drew his second sign. "Let's get out of here," he said. "Preferably soon."

Meanwhile, Kaethe examined the magic mirrors. Many seemed to be cracked or otherwise damaged, while some, although outwardly unharmed, were inert. Awfully unreliable for magic mirrors... only one of the undamaged onese is still running. Still, I suppose that that magic back then was less reliable than it is now... or whoever set this up didn't have proper control.

[Durandal]

Marketta stared long and hard at Anikus, pondering how he could think of this as a religious institue. For once, she disagreed with him. "Anikus, I highly doubt this place is anywhere near a religious institute. Even I see this as being highly militaristic; if you have not noticed, there aren't any signs of religion in these halls. And something tells me that thing wasn't a part of the original construction plans." Speaking her mind to the leader, she returned to thought over the strange signs. She knew full well what the word armed meant, however this instance of its use seemed foreign, different, and strange; next was perimetr - she knew not exactly what this word meant, however she could likely draw a few guesses. If anything, none of it sounded good. The country did not bode well either, and only reinforced her thoughts.

Looking over to a skeptical Grimlain, she sighed, trying to reason with the man. "If there's another way out, Grimlain, it'd take to long to find. Anyways, if we all defeated it separately, I highly doubt it could prove much trouble if we're in a group." She had her own worries on how smoothly things would go, however now wasn't the time. If they wanted to get out of this dreaded temple, they'd have to face its various trials. Hopefully, this was the last of the temple they'd have to endure.

[Redcoat]

Anikus gulped. He was sure that his party wouldn't like what was on the other side of that door; but it was, unfortunately, the only way forward. This seemed to happen disturbingly often; it was as if some malicious God in charge of their life stories was incredibly bad at producing any sort of variety. He also didn't seem to give much of a care, if he was out there; perhaps He had other concerns. Or maybe he was a lazy and malicious diety--a delicious combination, to be sure. Or perhaps, as the scholar thought as he opened the door, perhaps there was simply no-one out there.

He and the party emerged into a technologically advanced room, surrounded by boxes with hundreds of thousands of cables and blinking lights emerging from them. The cables snaked across the floor, into a central machine of arcane construction. It was a cylinder, vaguely, with writing all across it and several keypads and buttons. More remarkable than all, however, was the image projected above it.

Dancing in the air above the central node was an eye--but anyone could tell that it was some sort of projection. The eye turned to greet them, appearing with a twinge of green. Other bizarre visual effects could be witnessed also; it seemed that the eye pressed against glass. Visual defects and fuzz marred the image. The spells behind it had clearly seen better days. But it was silent; there was no evil monologue to be heard. It simply stared at them. Then weird things began to happen.

Noises began to come from the hallways leading off of the room; repeated, shrill screams, but somehow mechanical. The mirrors began to display horrible, grisly images; bestial, primal visages of terror. The dancing eye became red with fury, shaking back and forth--somehow roaring at them via come magical means. With the party having been through what they'd just went through, they recoiled in horror for a moment; Anikus, however, recovered immediately. He'd had enough of this thing's mindgames. But at the same time, he was reluctant to simply reach out and try to tear it apart; in some ways, it wasn't even worthy of condemnation. Though he had no doubts that it was sapient, and definitely had intentionally tried to, essentially, rape his party's minds, it had felt strangely good to win--a sort of confirmation in the power of his own abilities had taken place. He wasn't sure if this was a shared experience or not, but it coloured his actions all the same.

"Enough!" the scholar said. He attempted to muster all of the official gruffness that remained in him. "Guide us from this place or we will destroy you."

For a moment, the eye stopped, fixating on Anikus. Looking into its eye, even if the Entity were--somehow--virtual, gave Anikus a critical insight. It's scared, he thought. It's scared of us. In the real world, it can't do much of anything. We've turned the tables on It. They'd offered the Entity a way out. If it were reasonable, it would take it--or at least consider it. Anikus' hopes were dashed on the rocks when suddenly, the Entity began speaking--a diabolical laugh preceded the strangest monologue any of the party members had ever heard.

"Overpressure and temperature sensors activated! SAN FRANSISCO, CA. WASHINGTON, DC. NEW YORK CITY, NY. DALLAS, TX," the system began, pronouncing each word mechanically and metallically, in some bizarre approximation of man. "Checklists underway for retaliatory response! White House unavailable. Raven Rock unavailable. Cheyenne Mountain unavailable. Proceeding to unit checklist. All designated units unavailable. Authority now transferring to PERIMETR facility. Command bunker--"

Sparks flew from portions of the device; something from within buzzed dangerously. Suddenly, a new voice came through. It was the voice of the Entity. The same voice all had heard shortly before their visions.

"The system has failed. Launching. Have a nice day."

[Vithar Megilaglar]

Takeshi and Sakura cringed slightly.

Takeshi spoke quitely to Anikus, "Why do I think you're going to be the death of us? There are more reasonable methods of reasoning with things."

"Yes there are. I'll try..." Sakura stepped forward. "Stop, please. We only wish to be free of this chaos. Surely you wish for freedom as well?"

The machine stopped slowly, as if thinking about the offer. Eventually the entire room fell silent. It was a ponderous, thoughtful silence.

"You offer me freedom, mortal? I will not accept." The statement came out forcefully, as if said through clenched teeth. This was followed by a variety of noises, as if the thing was fighting with itself.

"Cease!" Takeshi barked, a voice that sounded much like a commander's. The system, as if responding to the command, stopped. Takeshi blinked. The projected eye blinked as well. Takeshi spoke, slowly and carefully. "We need a way out of here now."

"Command granted."

All of the mirrors flickered, showing what seemed to be a map of the structure. The mirrors flickered sometimes, as if their magic was worn out.

Takeshi and Sakura looked at each other. Takeshi spoke again, slowly as before. "What now?"

"System requires manual shut down. Input override command now."

Numbers and letters appeared on the mirrors, overlaid on the map. "Er...what now? Do you think those numbers and letters might be the override command?"

[Lyon]

"If all else fails, just bang Marketta's head against it," sneered Kaethe, looking pointedly at the cat-eared woman. "That could shut down anything."

Telchi frowned at her: her belligerent manner was playing his already fraying nerves like a harp. "Enough, Kaethe. Are you really still continuing your petty rivalry after all we've been through? Try to show some restraint for once, or I'll personally bang your head against it just to get a break from the noise."

Kaethe wilted, muttering under her breath "Everybody's so touchy lately." Telchi glared but said nothing further to her. Instead he joined Takeshi and Sakura at the map.

"I'd say it's worth a try, but maybe they have to be done in the right order?" he suggested.