Disgusting (BrokenJoker)

The moon-skinned wanderer slowly approached the small opening in the gate of the fair village of Ardon. He made bizarre movements every now and then, such as caressing his face from top to bottom, or dragging one foot, then switching to drag the other. Confused, the guardsmen blocked his way with a crossing of javelins; the rogue stopped abruptly, standing a couple yards away.

"Are you...alright, sir? You seem a little...wobbly..." the first guard inquired.

The man merely caressed his face once more, then let his tongue hang loosely over his bottom lip.

The second guard began to approach him...which he abruptly realized as a major mistake. In an instant, the spear was ripped from the guard's hands and the jugular from his neck.

He dropped to the ground, flailing in agony for what little time he had left. The other had plunged his spear in a quick-witted but extremely rash decision; it was instantly shot backwards by unexplained forces into the man's stomach. He doubled over, but was flat on the ground in an instant, an iron clamp of a hand around his throat. Gooey essence leaked across the ground as the sound of cracking bone filled the air all around.

One word was the guard able to utter before his neck was entirely flattened.

"Disgusting..."

Vince twitched into sanity.

But only for an instant.

Rising, the creature caressed his face with his sandpaper-like gauntlets once more.

-------------------

He awoke amidst the stout red trees of, Vince hoped, a forest somewhere in the northeast of Europe. Something told him that that was a lie, however; it was not nearly as cold; it was actually rather warm. He rose from his earthen bed to a sore body all over. This was normally how it went.

He reached out to a small sack, which Vince reluctantly peered into after noticing that it was the exact size of an average humans head. A sigh of relief ensued. Inside were various items of zero significance; a dead swallow, a muddy boot, six copper tubes, eyeglasses, an illegible letter, an ordinary drinking glass which used to be, according to the rank smell of the sack, filled with milk, and the spinal cord of some small unfortunate creature.

Vince slapped a hand over his face, only able to feel embarrassed at his own erratic behavior. Which in turn caused him to feel guilty for not being able to feel guilty. Deciding to end the empathic chain, he rose to his feet and began to erase his own footsteps. Someone must be looking to raise his head on a flagpole, and he'd not let that happen.

Only one path clear enough for him to walk through lie before him.

While trudging toward this one path Vince slowly began to take in the fact that he was not alone. This forest was alive, and in the pitch black shade of night he could catch fleeting glimpses of moving objects, thanks to his ability to see in the infrared spectrum.

Vince's throat suddenly felt dessicated.

He began to sweat as long-dead friends began popping up left and right, dragging their wounded bodies next to his own, mimicking his movements to exactness. Memories of those he slaughtered without reason began to surface, flipping through his mind. Waves of sound came from all directions; he was no longer surrounded by trees, but by wisps of pink and green.

He slowly dragged his body across the floor of the hallucination as the sound flooded his ears, a rhythmic jingling noise. Blankly staring into nothingness, he fell once more into unconsciousness.

OoC: that was a hallucination...i'm not sure what i'm aiming for, but this is going to be a less-than-kind forest.

TAKE IT AWAY BOSS