The Dark Crystal (Anyone)

The air rushing past him whistled in his ears, his hair blew back out of his face. His blood-red eyes glaring directly back at the high priestess. He saw her lips move calmly, very slowly for Ren’s eyes. His instincts brought his eyes to his right to see something very large moving. Several big things in fact, but the biggest was flying right toward him. His eyes jerked back to the female drow who was now bent over her altar.

He could definitely think of smarter things he had done than this.

But some things were more important than being smart.

Dull green light flashed in his vision and clouds surged above him, obscuring his view of the priestess and the large thing that was coming for him. If it was coming, it would be there soon, so Ren spun sharply out of the way, folding his wings around him to make himself go faster. Seemingly out of control in the air, but he knew what he was doing. He felt something smaller fly right by him as he barely missed it. He expanded his wings out again to catch the air and to stop falling and spinning. His red eyes saw the green gelatinous goo start to fall from the strange clouds that had been summoned above him. Ren tucked his wings around himself again and allowed himself to free fall once more.

When the strange green rain struck his wings, there was an immediate stinging sensation to the scales of his wings. It was odd because it felt as if it was burning and freezing all at once. A snarling hiss escaped his clenched teeth and lips.


Takai felt it when the priestess touched the altar and energy of the crystal. He felt it as she formed her spell. There wasn’t much time. He warned Khaz as he finished lopping off another drow's head.

“Rontu, hide under a body—now!” he shouted to him.

It was an odd request, but he knew better than to question Khaz’s advice right now. They both grabbed corpses that lay ready at their feet. The green gel-rain splattered around them just as Rontu managed to pull a dead man over his back and crouch down. There was the hissing of Leonna’s fires going out as the wet goo struck them, and then the shrieks of it hitting the other drow around them in the dark from all over the chamber. Besides a few smart ones who managed to get under cover before it hit too.


The raining sheet of goo was short lived. When it stopped Ren flung his wings open again catching air once more just seven or so feet before he’d hit the ground. The force to opening them again flung some of the goo off of them before it could cling to his skin, but most of it froze fast to his scales, burning them, though more slowly than they would normal flesh. It still burned and stung, but there was no time for him to find a way to scrap it off. He circled around beating his wings to get to higher air again, gliding when he could find the air to take him higher. His red eyes hunted around him, knowing that something was searching for him too.

(OoC: Sorry it took so long to get such a short post out.)

His back tingled, he could hear the leaves of his wings sizzling slowly, but the rain had passed over. It was getting more dangerous in here by the moment – black lightning, acid rain, dozens of drow, demons. At least the drow danger was abating. Predictably, the priestess cared not whether her soldiers were caught on the midst of the spell-storm, and many of them were thus struck down either by a bolt of lightning or from painful acidic burns.

Omentus stood up and swirled around, throwing down his hood. Frozen bits of neon green acid clung to his leafy wings, making them just a bit heavier than they ought to be. He opened his nape eye, revealing the chamber behind him. Chaos and death, but more manageable than before. A spiderish thing was sealing chamber exits with thick webbing, and many drow had been grievously injured by the storm, but the apothecary didn’t hesitate. He would not lose this opportunity.

With a surge of motion, Omentus crossed the chamber floor to the dark crystal and slammed the point of the nekode on his right arm against its face. A fracture shot across the stone, small pieces flew apart from the crystal, but a few larger ones dropped to the ground. He picked three of the largest – one roughly the size of a small orange, and two each about the size of a large walnut– and pocketed them into his cloak while putting away the snarecaster. He glanced out across the room as he placed his right palm against the crystal. A soothing numbness filled his blood, where an aching burn had been before. One teal eye looked to the heretic drow, another toward the door leading out.

The drow was hiding beneath a corpse. Smart move. The door had not yet been webbed. Lucky for Omentus. He needed to act fast. Three copper scales tumbled from behind his right ear, and flew out for the drow on an unheard gale. He glanced up. The cloud was gone, and his other target, the half-dragon, was nearing the crystal. The seromancer thrust his hand into his cloak again, grabbed the glove and donned it with the aid of his mouth.

Black hands flew about quickly. One grabbed an empty barrel, another grabbed a spare syringe. Two more clipped the barrel and syringe together and loaded the device with 10 milliliters of Thael’s blood. The hands worked swiftly as the seromancer spoke, throwing his demonic voice toward the flying half-breed as his hands threw the syringe through an interception course of the boy’s flight, “Take it, inject this blood if you hope to live.”

Somehow, he could feel them, though they were not a part of his body at this time. His copper scales, at least one of them, had touched the heretic drow. A black hand tossed Esmoiress’ bloodwell into the air, while another removed the glove from the seromancer’s hand. With his pinky, he snatched the glove, and with one copper scales he held the bloodwell in the air long enough for him to grab it, with the other scale, he repocketed the glove.

Omentus hadn’t tried this, yet. He hoped it would work, but didn’t stop to focus. Instead, he bolted for the exit as he incanted the spell, “Tinsu mael fara.” He didn’t know if it would work… there would be no way to tell until he slept, and even then only if the drow were sleeping, too. The scales left the drow, flying across the chamber toward their owner.

The necromancer hurdled over one drow and sprung from atop his head, using his autumn wings to glide toward the door. He didn’t make it quite half way before he touched the ground again, but he touched down running. Either the faerie girl was heavier than she looked, or Omentus was getting tired of carrying her. He was nearly to the door; a drow sprung from one of the many shadows with a wickedly bladed mace.

The drow ducked under the wing buffet and rolled to the apothecary’s flank, where he struck Omentus’ hard in the back. Joints popped, cloak and clothing tore, but the necromancer’s living armor took the brunt of the blow for him. He put away Esmoiress’ blood as he ran onward, with the drow close behind him. With his nape eye to guide his movements, Omentus stopped suddenly, and lifted his right leg toward the charging drow’s face. His cleats met with the dark elf’s tender flesh and twisted hard as they sank in with perfect traction. The apothecary dropped into a full leg split, his wings lifting as his thighs neared the ground. The drow’s head smacked against the chamber floor as the autumnal wings clapped downward, bringing the seromancer back to near enough of a stand to begin running for the door again. His missing scales tucked themselves under his right ear. He was mere feet from the door.

On his left, a monstrous beast struck the chamber wall. One of the spider demons; a surilith. Inwardly, he frowned. He didn’t like being close enough to powerful demons to know exactly what strain they were. Not without an intervening ward, anyway. He took a three-step retreat, his eyes on the demon. His right hand dove into his cloak, grasping for the vial of blood he knew so well. His thoughts teetered in his head, and doubt flickered in his eyes. The spider fiend’s mandibles spread in the mockery of a malicious grin, while Omentus took another step back.

The seromancer clenched his teeth. Suriliths were strong, even by demonic standards. They were inured to apprentice magic, to cold and to poison. Only in guildhall legend had the apothecary even heard of a warrior who could take one down on his own, more often did he hear stories of full bands of warriors and mages who were decimated in the attempt, with only one or two left alive to tell about it. His was a dire situation, indeed. He was staring one of them down – alone.

He swallowed; the demon spoke, “Fear not, mortal. I am generous. It won’t even hurt when you die.” Poison dripped from its fangs and seethed when it touched the ground. Omentus took a breath, retreating another step. His predator was enjoying this, seeing the fear in the necromancer’s eyes, the uncertainty of the next moment. A psychological brand of torture. If Omentus knew what was coming, and any learned mage should, his heart would soon burst like the one of a panicked bird, caught in the cat’s mouth.

The blade of his nekode shot from under his cloak and bit deeply into the muscle of his left shoulder. Blood poured from the wound, though he hadn’t actually struck the artery. His blood soaked his hand as he turned the blade in his flesh and cast a gesture toward the demon. His voice echoed in a way distant, but present at the same time, “Incotio sang.”

Power-driven by his inclusion of blood to the spell, a column of radiant golden fire sprung from his hand toward the stunned surilith with a deafening roar that filled the chamber like thunder. He wasted not a drop of blood, using everything from his wound to further the strength of the Thael-altered bloodstar. It was by far more blood than he’d ever used for the sanguine boost, but he found the result satisfying. In the river of flame, he could swear that he could see of the draconic head of the god Thael biting deeply into the demon as it poured over the beast’s body, searing away its eyes and boiling the plates of its chitin. It was inspiring to see, and even Omentus found himself staring awe-struck for a moment.

Then he remembered where he was, and it was through the doorway with him.

OoC: OHMIGOSH! Drammy's back! *bangs pots and pans together* Um...yeah. So, my next few segments that I'm gonna post had A LOT of help from Shrub (pretty much wrote half of it), cause' I really wanted to get into this dream thingy. Problem here is I don't know how long Leonna needs to be unconsious, so I'll need a que when to post the end of the dream.

So...ONWARD!!!

BiC:

I allowed the darkness to sink in, reveling in its warmth. It was impossible to say where the source of heat came from; all I knew was that it was everywhere. Slowly, I became aware of something brushing against my skin. Whatever it was felt like grass, as if I was laying in a tall patch of it, though it felt softer, more velutinous than normal.

Where am I?

I lazily opened my eyes to see a bright blue sky, slightly occluded by dark leafy branches that reached up high above me. There was something strangely pleasant about the blue sifting through the green leaves, somehow softer than the sky I had known. It contrasted beautifully against the deep browns and greens of the tree, as if the opposing colors were in perfect harmony with each other.

A faintly sweet scent tickled my nose, smelling of honey and bark. This world around me...everything about it seemed so soft and sweet. I slowly sat up from the ground, getting a better look at my surroundings. From where I was sitting, I could see that I was in some sort of meadow surrounded by tall trees of every kind, their various leaves mixing into a blend of many shades of green. None of them were distinct enough to be identifiable, soft like the sky above them.

Though I sensed great life all around me, there seemed to be nothing else here, save for the grass and trees. The only sound here was silence, for even the grass waving in the leaves made no sound. It was utterly peaceful here, entirely undisturbed by the world I had known. My eyes scanned across the unbroken circle of trees, searching for the presence of something other than myself.

And that was when I saw it. Mingled with the rich brown of the tree trunks was a figure dressed in blue, not more than a few yards away. There was...something faintly familiar in their presence, a softness that was hidden somewhere in my memory...

(OoC: Sweet, now we can get this show back on the road again.)

Rontu lowered himself to lie on his stomach to the ground with the corpse still on top of him. This position benefited him right now. The acid rain and lightning had been distracting enough for all the drow in the room to lose sight of them. It was best now to stay out of sight for as long as they could.

His gold eyes scanned the darkness with his heat vision. Where was Leonna? Had she been quick enough to take cover? However, during the fight, he remembered a lack of bursts of flame, which had once assured him she was still in action. It had stopped a while back. There hadn’t been much time to think on it then. Perhaps she was dead. If so, it was his fault.

“Rontu acts like he doesn’t care but if you were going die he’d save you—so shut up!” Was that was Khaz had really thought of him? And here he was now perhaps responsible for leading that girl to her death rather than saving her from it. They so easily forgot what he was, but Rontu never did though he very much wished too. But he was a drow, though perhaps he would not deceive and risk the lives of his friends so, it was much easier for him to use a stranger.

His eyes ran about the room, trying to find that unusual bright glow of Ren’s body. That fool flew off when at the moment sticking together would give them better chances. But there wasn’t much that could control that hothead when he was set on something. Rontu had to think of what their next move would be. For one, they had to get out of this room. They needed to retreat with everyone and come up with another plan.

Khaz had followed Rontu’s gesture to lie on the ground, though cringed inwardly. He really hoped this corpse wouldn’t drip blood on him. This was so disgusting. Pushing that fact aside, his mind wondered to Leonna and Adurna. Were they alive? He urgently asked Takai to confirm this for him. He couldn’t see Leonna’s burst of light and fire in the darkness anymore. The black had consumed most everything once again. Takai consulted the shadows, asking the question and in return it gave him the locations of the two in the room. Though almost at the same moment he felt a flutter of subtle magic swept through the air. It touched Rontu and sank in. Hmm, what is that …? It didn’t seem to have any immediate affects on Rontu and the drow noticed nothing. He would have to keep a close eye on him from now on. Now was not the time to inform Rontu of magic being cast on him. First, they needed to reach a less temporary safety. Khaz’s stomach unclenched when Takai informed him that both of the two were alive.

And where had Ren gone?

Light erupted, bursting through the darkness again in bright white light that would burn the eyes of all the drow there. It blinded even Khaz for a moment. Ren’s flying form had suddenly become enveloped in this light, becoming the radiating source of it, which grew, expanding its mass and shape as it fell toward the ground again. Streaking toward the earth like a falling star. The cocoon like a hot white coal stretched out, massive legs striking the chamber’s floor, sending shudders and rumbles through the cave yet again, though not as intensely as the explosion had earlier. Large wings protruded from the hunched back and arms from the sides. The light around the twenty foot figure faded again, and there stood a white bipedal dragon with blood red eyes and the blot-like pupils of a Sekin dragon.

(OoC: Sorry, would have done more but I’ve got to go to work.)

Though he made his way quickly, Omentus was still mindful of the untriggered traps in the corridor ahead of him. It was more difficult to move with his autumn wings still in use, but it was also the easiest way to carry the girl without any fear of dropping her. Still, he considered putting the chain away. It was a pain in cramped spaces.

A thunderous crash echoed from behind him. The noise and the rocking in the ground told him that it was only about two rooms back. He felt lucky that he’d made it past the scarab room before it happened, that place was probably a room of pure death by now. Not that the scarabs would last long against a surilith… even if they were dumb enough to try eating it. Omentus perked his brows. That’s not such a terrible idea, he thought to himself.

The necromancer knew the tunnels and passages under the mountain well by now, but it didn’t give him the advantage. He had no doubt that the demon was also well versed in the way of the place – it probably knew more than he did. What did give Omentus an advantage was his superior speed, smaller size, and number of tricks to draw upon.

The surilith, on the other hand, had its own strengths. For instance, the strength to tear apart a wall of stone just because it was angry. That one really made up for the fact that it didn’t normally fit through the doorways of this part of the mountain, because it was free to make its own. Another of the surilith’s great strengths was its ability to regenerate. That was probably a large contributor to the reasons they could take down so many trained soldiers and mages.

Omentus burst through the checkpoint doorway, and half a dozen armed drow turned to face him with weapons drawn. By this point, he was already warning them, “Rampaging surilith, coming this way!” He wove between the stunned guards and pushed a thrusting rapier out of his way as me made for the door, “Run for your lives or lose them where you stand. Move!” He’d reached a particularly burly drow, blocking the door. It wouldn’t have really mattered, if every half second didn’t count so much right now. With his free hand, he grabbed the drow by his collar and used him as a battering ram to knock the door off its hinges, then threw the dark elf down and stepped on his body on his way by. Omentus didn’t know he could do that; it must have been the adrenaline.

The spider demon ripped its way through the doorway leading into the checkpoint, and now Omentus was running down the corridors with an entourage of four drow, each one scared silly. There were other avenues of flight they could have taken, but the necromancer figured it was the mob mentality that made them follow him. He wasn’t particularly interested in saving any of them, so he did not take his opportunities to shove them down different corridors. Heck, if anything they’ll give that freak more targets to take out its anger on than just me, he thought optimistically.

Through his hind eye, Omentus could now see the demon clearly. At a full run as it was, it was still just a little too large for the tunnel. This slowed it down, but not by much. By this point, it had already regenerated five of its eight eyes, so it was no longer chasing Omen blindly. Thinking quickly, the necromancer grabbed a glass vial filled with something blue and red from his hip back as he rounded a turn. As soon as the demon was in view again, he tossed the tube behind him, shouting, “Eat acid, demon!”


Only thirty feet behind the fleeing necromancer, Vamet just had to smirk at the little man’s comment. Acid, fah. Like acid could really harm a creature from the webs of the Abyss. He swung a spear limb in front of him, and smashed the tiny vial with a single stroke. What came out of it though, was not the hissing sound of failing acid. It buzzed like hornets, or something similar. Easily more than two hundred, two-inch long insects erupted from the tiny vial and into the surrounding tunnel. They were very angry on their release, and immediately decided that Vamet was the best scapegoat for their rage. The poison of these bugs did not bother the surilith so much as their stingers, and the first time one of them stabbed one of his freshly-regenerated eyes, the demon spasmed in pain. He began flailing about as he charged forward, trying to get the wicked little bugs off of him, and that’s when he stepped on the glass orb, which his quarry had dropped second. Clever trap, bastard, the surilith thought with chagrin.


As Omentus heard the glass of the orb shatter, his nape eye saw ten fully grown amberlatches explode from its content. At sixteen feet long, each, these creatures were longer than the surilith. It tried to bite one, but its venom fell short on the bloodless amberlatch. At that moment, three of the creatures bit the surilith, and one managed to score a really viable strike. Most of the guren hawks were still alive, too. Between the spores, the amberlatch venom, and the guren hawks, the demon was forced to pause its pursuit of Omentus, and deal with the distraction for now.

OoC: You know…this feels just a little bit weird. A totally different story is going on in Leonna’s head while Ommy’s gettin’ chased by a demon and Ren is turning into a dragon. Oh well.

BiC:

As the man stepped out of the shadows of the trees and into the sunlight, his presence there seemed strange; his hair and eyes being so dark and his skin so plain. It just seemed as if he didn't quite belong in the light, though he didn't seem to mind it at all. He titled his head up and smiled at the serene, sunny blue sky as the light touched his face. He eventually turned his head to gaze at me, and the smile spread more tenderly into his midnight-blue eyes.

"There you are," he said as he approached me. "I was getting worried, you know. Should of known you'd be napping here."

Napping? Is that what I have been doing? Somewhere in my mind, I knew there was something I should have remembered, but it slipped through my grasp like smoke.

“Khaz...” That was his name, was it not? Nothing here seemed to be quite certain. “What is this place?” I stared up into his endlessly deep blue eyes, forgetting the question almost as soon as I had finished it. Once again, there was a pang of guilt, as if I should not be looking at him like this, but I did not understand why. In this place of perfect quiet, there was nothing but him and me...nothing but those dark, gentle eyes...

Khaz furrowed his eyebrows with confusion at me as he knelt down in the grass next to me, taking my hand in his. The other went up and brushed a stray strand of blonde hair from my face. His dark eyes followed this action and then went back to staring into my eyes. His fingers lingered, tracing slowly down my face.

"Leonna, what are you talking about? Are you still tired? Been having dreams or something? You're home ..." His eyes wandered all around my face, concern filling up the dark blue. His hand stroked mine softly. "You seem kinda shaken ... been having nightmares again?"

“Nightmares...” I echoed the word, struggling to remember. There had been something dark...something terrible, but it all eluded me. If that was what it had been, I was unable to recollect anything about it. Why would there be anything dark here, anyways? Here there was only warmth and light...here was...home...

I let my head fall lazily into the palm of Khaz's hand, closing my eyes as his warmth seeped into my skin. He sounded worried, but what was there to worry about as long as he was here? His touch banished all thought of the darkness that crept around the corners of my mind. In some strange way, it seemed as if I had felt this before.

“You may need to help me remember.” I opened my eyes again, softly smiling at his worried expression. The more he spoke, the more at home I seemed to be. I did not want him to worry...

Khaz's smile became tender again, his love burning like a gentle flame in his eyes. His hand spread back into my hair, pulling it carefully from its bun as to not yank any hairs. He pulled it out, freeing it, his fingers tracing through my loose hair. His other hand let go of me and he leaned over, placing it on the ground on the other side of me, leaning me back slightly. His lips brushed softly against mine for a moment until he smiled again and stared into my eyes.

"Angel eyes ..." he murmured softly, as if more to himself than to me. "No more nightmares for you."

His hand traced down my leg and then up again, going just slightly up my skirt. My skin tingled where he touched it, my breath stolen from his kiss. Khaz's lips were smoother than glass, their taste sweeter than honey. His gentle eyes were full of a warmth that spread through my whole body. Looking into them, I could see his contentment, completely at peace, just as the world around us was. There was such tenderness in his voice, his touch, as if he...loved me. I could not remember what led up to this moment, but it did not matter now.

“And what do I call your eyes?” I reached out to stroke his cheek, staring into the gentle soul beneath his dark blue eyes. An oblivious stare graced his face, giving his eyes that wide and innocent look that made him look years younger.

"My eyes ...?" he said slowly, as if confused by this. And then he smiled sheepishly. "Nothing. They're just eyes."

He then slipped his arms around me and we fell back into the grass. He nuzzled my neck, pulling me close to him, smiling as he laid there with me.

“Just eyes?” I struggled to continue my thought as I gazed into Khaz's eyes. His very presence seemed to dispel all thought, all concern that would have befallen me otherwise. Even as he held me, there was no tension, no desire to be anything or anywhere else other than where we were now.

I curled up closer to Khaz, resting my head against the soft fabric on his chest. His heart beat firmly there, the breath of his lungs making his chest slowly rise and fall. The sweet scent coming off of him was impossible to describe, blocking out all the other smells of the meadow. I closed my eyes and took these in with a smile, enjoying his contentment in holding me.

“No...your eyes are warm and wonderful...every part of you is...” My voice was more of a sigh, muffled against Khaz's shirt. He laid there with me for a few moments. Silent, and then he seemed to grow very still. He held his breath for a moment and then held me tightly to him suddenly, his embrace that of a person who was afraid to let go. And then he did. He slipped away from my arms, sitting up. He stared out into the trees.

"No, just a little longer ..." he spoke as if to someone among those trees. His dark eyes never left them. In fact, the shadows of those trees grew steadily darker. His expression grew desolate from some unheard reply to his request. "I know ... I know, I'm coming ..."

He grew quiet, now staring at the ground between his knees and he addressed me; his voice once again that lifeless tone. "I have to go ... My time is up."

(OoC: Heh, yeah, kinda funny when you put it that way.)

Rontu’s eyes widened.

Sh**.

He had seen Ren do this only twice. If he remembered right, this was the boy’s Kituson form. His dragon side. Normally, this happened only when Ren was under immense stress and pressure of some form, mostly physical. If his life was threatened, he would spring into this form whether he wanted to or not. Ren had no control over Kituson in various ways. He could not control when he went in and out of it, and when he was in Kituson he loses his mortal mind. He becomes nothing but a raging dragon beast.

And yet … Rontu had seen nothing threatening near that glowing orb as Kituson had formed. So what had caused Ren to take it?

Ren did not hold still for very long. The ground trembled more as he ran around the crystal for some reason he did not run directly for it. It was like he was looking for an opening of some kind … This itself was odd. Ren had not started to smash and kill everything around him. He was … in control?


“Take it, inject this blood if you hope to live.”

The voice that had called Ren sent an instinctive shiver down his spine at the same time that his hand snatched the object thrown in his flight path. He looked down at the smooth glassy thing in his hand. His fingers were clenched around a syringe with a very finely clear barrel, even more transparent than glass. Inside it was filled with what seemed like average red blood, but the surface of it gleamed between green and gold shimmers.

It was when the green and gold glittered at him through the barrel that something more than the fight he was currently in made his heart suddenly sputter faster in his chest with an excited skip. He couldn’t take his eyes off the syringe. All rationality would have told him to chuck something thrown to him by an unknown person away, especially with the shiver the voice had sent down his spine. That was a definite warning, but he did not want to let go of the syringe.

He continued to fly, but his attention was on nothing else but the blood in his hand. It made his heart skip each time the green and gold glimmered under the glassy surface of the barrel. And yet the skip in his heart was something of a bittersweet ache. The Tejison energy in his entire being skipped and danced with it. Images fluttered through his mind as he stared. Sun high up in the sky at noon, filling the air with its warmth on those hot summer days. A large white quadruped dragon—his father’s true form—standing at a cliff by the sea. Though he had always known his father to have blank white eyes, in this image the eyes were filled with frosty blue irises and those black and blotchy dragon pupils.

It touched an emptiness in him somewhere. A place that had been left undiscovered and lost. A place inside that he had only just begun to understand, but he was left without a guide to it. There was no one around him in his life that could teach him about this place inside. He was left to wander in the darkness of it.

This blood in his hands had brought it to his attention, calling it out as he gazed, mesmerized. He wanted it. Somehow he knew it could fill that void. So without farther thoughts on the matter, he gripped the syringe and sunk the needle into his arm just above the elbow and pushed the blood into his.

Heat flooded his body through the point of the needle. His heart suddenly thudded in his ears and thrummed through his whole body. The warmth was wonderfully soothing to him, relaxing in this chaotic situation, which slipped away from his mind like water. The energy that powered his Tejison form burst and he felt it consume him.

Heat and flames were all around him now, cradling him like a womb. Golden light danced with the flames filled with sunlight. Scarlets, red orange, gold, and yellow surrounded him in these flames that stretched forever. He looked up and through the flames it immerged. A massive dragons’ head, larger than any he had seen. Even his father’s. Its scales were bright red and gleaming as if finely polished. The great horns that protruded from his skull were an even deeper blood red than his scales, yet glimmered with gold as the blood before had. Its eyes were green and gold, green fire surrounding the pupils and gold lined the edges.

“My child …” The great dragon did not open his mouth to speak, the words thundered through Ren’s body, mind, and it sank down into his soul. He heard him loud and clear. “Come to me … you are alone no longer. Come to me, I will show you the way. It is no longer lost for you. Come to me and you will be safe and strong …"

These words, he could not keep them from going inside him and speaking to the parts of him which starved for these things. What did he really know about this part of himself? The dragon. He always boasted and prided himself on the great blood that flowed through him. Proud of his strength, proud to be a Nevisu as much as he was proud to be part dragon. But he didn’t really know what it meant to be a dragon. He was raised with high elves. The only dragon he had ever known was his father, and his father had hardly ever spoken to him or showed him anything about the life of a dragon. It was laughable to even think Nottuu would ever do so. His life hardly seemed that of a dragon’s anymore. So often he had dwelt in his elf form rather than his true one. It was always obvious to Ren that his father’s life was empty of everything. It was just a great void now that consumed everything around it mindlessly. He supposed that was why they called him Lord Void.

And he was very tired and frustrated with others always treading upon the things that were most sacred to him. His mother killed thoughtlessly, by order of his father. Treated as nothing but a vessel that had once bore him his sons and was now useless. His sons in turn he treated as nothing but tools that were to be hammered and tempered into weapons that were to follow commands. Beaten. Humiliated. His pride stepped on so often he could take no more of it. And Kagai … who had taught him what it meant to be truly powerless and nothing but an object of amusement.

And now that drow woman had his grandfather’s sword.

He just wanted to protect those things. His sacred things. His friends, his possessions, his body, his pride and honor. That was all he ever wanted.

The answer to this great dragon’s request was hardly anything he decided in his mind. There was no hesitation. Only a yes, yes, of course, that came from his core. Yes.

He would come to him.

(OoC: Sorry, work yet again limits my postage.)

With the surilith’s earth-trembling rage fading behind them, Omentus and the drow began to feel a less immediate dread of death. They continued running with him, though. After two or three minutes, one of the drow made hand signs to one running parallel with him. They were plotting to kill Omentus, of course. In the drow’s tongue the necromancer asked, “Haven’t you people noticed that I have an eye in the back of my head? I can see what you’re signing. And don’t try it. I’ve already checked; only two of your weapons have the kind of strength it takes to pierce my skin. Just run, and keep running.” He hurdled over a rock that had fallen out into the tunnelway. “The demon’s hunting me. I’m the one who burned it. Run down another corridor, and you’ll live to serve Lloth another day.”

The necromancer reached behind him as one of the drow thrust a shortspear toward his kidney. He grabbed the weapon’s blade and tore it from the guard’s grip. “Get a clue! There’s an irate surilith coming this way, and if you stay with me, you’re all dead,” he admonished the warriors angrily. “What? Worried that if you take that excuse, you’ll get punished?”

He lurched to a halt, using the cleats’ perfect traction to stop without skidding even an inch, and clotheslined two of the drow with his wings. The blade of his nekode sliced across the next drow’s clavicle, cutting the bone into two pieces. Unable to hold up his arm any longer, the dark elf dropped his weapon and flinched in pain long enough for Omentus to backhand him into unconsciousness. It took hitting him three times. The remaining drow lunged at him with a serrated steel longsword, which Omentus let slide on the skin of his neck, but he did close his eye. The seromancer reached down to his harness and plucked Argindur out of its sheath. With a determined flash of motion, he injected an indeterminate amount of the drug into the guard’s right hip.

The drow wailed in pain, falling down onto his side as he writhed in agony. The apothecary grabbed him by the jaw and brought his face close with the drow’s. “You’re welcome,” he growled.

Omentus let go of the drow, doubled back into the corridor, made the next two turns left, and continued his flight from the demon. He glanced down at the faerie girl, who was drooling with a look of simple happiness on her face. Shaking his head, he looked back up at the tunnel. Opening his nape eye, he focused into the corridors behind him, and stopped again. Taking a breath to center himself, he took the tiny bottle of Nymru’s blood out of his cloak. He focused and spoke the words of the Ignore Me spell quietly, swiftly becoming unnoticed by anyone. He figured the demon would still be able to notice him through the spell, so he didn’t take it easy. He took a moment to catch his bearings, and chose a path of descent into the mountain.

His destination was a difficult one: it was deeper into this mountain than the drow were able to expand yet. Eight hundred feet underground, across a river and the ruined bridge over it, through tunnels where an unnatural darkness pervaded, and the territory of the baen fuer’yon, an insidious abomination known for its fondness of the taste of drow flesh. Past all that was the apothecary’s destination, in the ruins of a city whose people had abandoned it decades ago. The drow whose memories Omentus had stolen had never been there, himself, but the scouting reports said that most of the buildings were still intact. So, Omentus hoped to set up a laboratory there for his work on the girl, and later the half-dragon.

For now, he had to find a way to lose the surilith. Unlike many of the creatures from this plane of existence, the surilith was effectively immortal. It could be killed, but it never suffered from old age. According to most texts, suriliths were tortured into existence, being made from inferior demons before finally becoming the spider demon, so no single surilith could really be less than a thousand years old. With such a long lifespan, a few hours would seem as nothing to a surilith, so there was almost no chance that this one would stop chasing Omentus any time soon. It would be days at the least. No… that’s not going to work for me. I’ll have to find a way to kill it. Or subdue it, that would be better. If I can keep it out long enough, I might be able to make use of it somehow. Turn it into a horse or something, Omentus thought as he ran down the corridors.

He opened a door and ran through, skirting his way around the guards in the checkpoint, and out the next door. There was a trap in the floor here, so he used his momentum and cleats to help him run on the wall past it. Just two steps, nothing amazing, but it did get him past the floor panel. The drow behind him were suddenly on high alert, looking for the invisible intruder who must have opened the doors. Obviously, they overlooked Omentus like he were nothing but dust. He turned right at the next intersection, and dropped down a shaft that was normally intended for garbage. A little over halfway down, he caught himself with his autumn wings and sailed through a doorway that opened into the garbage chute.

Stone keened and rumbled quietly somewhere behind him, heralding the surilith’s arrival at the checkpoint. The chase was on again.

OoC: And so the dream continues! Well...I guess it's becoming more of a nightmare, really.

BiC:

“T—time?” I quickly moved onto my knees, staring despertately at the circle of dark trees where Khaz had been looking. There was no one there, only shadows, which were slowly crawling into the meadow. They brought with them a strange chill, as if this fragile place was slowly fading away...

But worse than this was the sudden transformation Khaz had taken. His voice was utterly empty, the warmth eminating from him turning cold. There was no happiness on his face, no contentment in his eyes...only fear...pain...

“Khaz! Do not leave me...please...stay...leave this darkness alone. We have all the time in the world.” I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck, throwing myself between him and the invisible thing that called to him. He needed to be happy, here in this place where there was no pain. Without him, that was all there was.

He smiled, but it was only a pain-filled one. "I want that ... so much ... And so does he, though he'd never admit to it. He doesn't want to ever need someone ... He makes himself believe that he likes isolation better than company ... but he's just scared ... So I am dragged along with his alienation but I feel the loneiness and I share his fear..."

His eyes wandered back over my shoulder to stare at the shadows forming. I turned my head to follow his gaze, a deep fear building in my chest. The shadows were condensing, becoming unnaturally thick in one area. The form of a man was starting to appear amongst this black aura, slightly darker than the rest of it. The outline of his hair was just like Khaz's but any other details were not discernible. The trees that touched these shadows and around them were dying. The leaves turned brown and red and started falling like slowly drifting snow to the ground, the bark became dry and gray. The grass browned and yellowed, curling as these shadows sucked the life away.

"I'm his sacrifice, I take all the pain and torment for him so that he doesn't have to feel anything. I'm the lie. I live for him so that he can hide, so that he doesn't have to live. So he can sleep, the closest thing to death that he is allowed to have ..." And then he smiled softly again, his eyes somewhere far away. "Death is so beautiful ... so much more than you know ... One with everything again ... drifting with infinity ... no longer separated and alone from the world ... no pain or all of this confusion ..." Tears built in his eyes and trickled down his face that smiled softly full of pain. His voice breathed his gentle longing. "You're whole again ... no longer fragmented and damaged ... it fills the emptiness ..."

For a moment, I found myself lost in his words, feeling the darkness that consumed the pain he spoke of. In my heart, I had known this as well. My existance was not complete either, an endless abyss of pain and exclusion until death would someday take it. My nature was one of destruction, a mockery of light and life. It consumed everything...even hope. It had always been that way for me until...until Khaz...

“No.” I leaned away from Khaz enough to look at his face, taking it firmly in my hands. This time I was not lost the deep blue of his eyes. The pain, the fear, the darkness...this time I would not loose myself to it. If my flame could burn anything, this was what it needed to consume.

“That is not true. You cannot fill emptiness with emptiness. If you give into death, you will have gained nothing. Darkness brings relief...that is true, but it will consume you and everything that you love. There is no pleasure in this, no relief. It is merely emptiness. This I have learned.

Life is pain, but it is also joy. What I feel with you is not emptiness. It brings me pain, that is true, but a lifetime of pain is worth one moment with you. I do not understand this myself, but...I feel this way...and I never want to stop feeling it. As long as there is you, there is reason to hope.

So do not give into this shadow. You do not have to be his sacrifice. Show him, Khaz, show him what it is to live, what it is like to feel the rain on your face and the sun on your skin. Show him what love is, as you have shown me. If that is a lie...if you are a lie...then there truly is no reason for anything.”

He looked to me and smiled bitterly at my words. "That's right. It is a lie, Leonna." His hands grabbed my arms and pulled me closer, eyes going directly to mine. His voice got harder and forceful and so did his eyes. "You want to know what to call my eyes? They're just mirrors for you, reflecting all that you want me to be for you. I make you feel what you want to feel. That's what you love, and that's not really me. I'm a hollow empty mask of a person, but I'd love to be that lie for you ... so that you could give me the lie too ..." He shook his head. "That'd never last, though. It'd never be real or complete, and you've never seen it, the cold, dark nothing behind this face."

His hand went up to his face, fingers pressed at the skin beneath his eye as if to peel it from his skull. And he smiled slowly again, but it was hard, cold, bitter smile. In the depths of his eyes stirred something. That dark unknown place deep in water where no light penetrates. The thing that could rise up in a gigantic and overwhelming wave to consume me into the nothingness. There was no stopping it, either. I'd be completely and utterly helpless. Because this thing came for everyone someday. Death was imminent.

My body froze as I stared into his eyes, the darkness overwhelming me. It was so cold...so endlessly deep, as if I was staring into a bottomless pit of icy water. The feeling of it froze over my skin, forcibly extinguishing the flame within me. My breathing became heavy, then weakened as my strength sagged.

Let it be this way...where there is nothing to harm. No more fire...just rest...an end to it all...

(OoC: Yay! I get to tell a story, because Shrub gave me the go ahead. But if you see something you don't like, Navi, let me now. I went ahead and did it anyway for now, because it tells a really good story. I'm making this post long because it covers a large span of time and gives Shrub the ability to post long, too.)

BiC:

Tiring quickly, Omentus ran on through the twisting labyrinth of the drow mountain. He’d been running for nearly a half an hour without stopping for more than long enough to throw open a door or dodge a trap. Twice now, he’d failed to remember a trap. A poisoned arrow stuck out of his right shoulder, and a falling block made him fairly sure he’d cracked a tibia. The wound in his left shoulder was nearly staunched, but he’d lost a lot of blood. Enough to feel dizzy, and he could still hear the scraping of the surilith’s legs against the stone, about a hundred feet back.

Every once in a while, when Omen had gotten into too long of a corridor, he caught glimpses of the thing’s body. It was fully regenerated from the boosted Thael bloodstar, and it had completely recovered from its fight with the guren hawks and amberlatches. The seromancer considered dropping another orb, or even something as small as a vial, of amberlatches behind him to distract the beast again. He needed healing, or time, or both. Even as he was, though, he wasn’t quite ready to use one of his precious potions. It was getting very close, however. What were the pros and cons, again? he asked himself in honest curiousity.

Lorik and Boltvein were the first to answer him. You still don’t know the full tactical uses of using any of them right now, Lorik advised him, The healing potion, fine. It’ll get you back in top shape, but you’re badly hurt. You could need half the bottle. Omentus grimaced at the thought as he turned two corners in swift succession. The shadow potion won’t let you take the girl with you. That’s got to be out. The scaling draft reduces your speed to a crawl. And of course, there’s no one to give the zombie blood.

But there’s the teleportation draught, Boltvein countered. The drow remembers what the river shore looks like, it could give you enough time to formulate another plan and find a way to keep the girl safe.

I’d rather have a plan before using any potions, Omentus told her.

But the more time you spend thinking up this plan, the less time you’ll have in the long run.

Omentus frowned. This was all too true. If he teleported down to the river shore, it could be up to a half hour before the surilith caught his scent again. Up to half an hour of preparation time. I want my wounds healed before I make the jump, he told the facets. And with any fortune, I want my mana reserves in better shape.

You must be getting tired, his old mentor chided. There are dark elves everywhere here. Find a lone one and take what you need from it. Leave a trap to distract the demon while you work, then make the jump. As fast as that thing moves… amberlatches, guren hawks, tarasps… none of them will be out of range once that thing comes through. And with Nymru’s blood–

Yes, I know. They won’t notice me. Omentus disliked when his teacher continued to teach him, despite being dead and homunculized for more than thirty years.

So then what are you waiting for?

Omentus reached into his hip pack as he ran, and turned the corner to head down a particularly long tunnel. Almost a third of the way down the tunnel, he tossed two vials onto the ground. Guren hawks sprung from their magicked storage, very much angry. At the halfway point, he threw down the other two vials. The red-eyed, bright yellow tarasps covered the walls and floor in an instant, peeved and hungry. Just as the surilith appeared in his vision behind him, he dropped the globe of amberlatches onto the ground. It cracked when it landed, but didn’t break outright. Oops. He hoped the crack would spread, but it didn’t. No matter.

The surilith had just encountered the guren hawks. In the fashion of response, these things did not really slow it down; it just tried to keep them out of its eyes. Then, it stumbled through the tarasps, who found anything of such size to be a potential meal. Some leapt onto his face, others began to immediately web its legs. It continued to thunder down the corridor. As it neared the orb, the crack split further, and eight amberlatches burst from the orb, furious and ready to kill anything nearby. This distraction was more severe than before, and the demon already knew that now was the time to stop and deal with it.

Omentus hadn’t stuck around for any of this, though. He had already turned right, down a much tighter tunnel than before. Eyes of bone told Omentus that an invisible soldier guarded a magically hidden door, and he snatched the unwitting guard on his way by, bringing the lithe-bodied man down onto the ground with a thud. When his head hit the stone, he fell out of the waking world. Omentus had already palmed what was left of Thael’s blood in his right hand.

The apothecary placed his right hand against the drow’s body, but took no time for centering. “Tinsu mael fara,” he intoned. It seemed as though nothing happened, but Omentus felt better. The fiery feeling in his veins was soothed some. “Tinsu mael fara,” he chanted again. This time, he’d put away Thael’s blood. His wounds slid off his body, all of them. As they traveled down his arm and blossomed on the elf’s body, they split apart into hundreds of scrapes and scratches. Things in his back realigned themselves, his tibia un-fractured, the bolt fell out of his shoulder as the wound disappeared, and the deep gash on his left shoulder broke into no less than forty scrapes. Lucidity returned to him, as he moved the lack of blood from himself to the dark elf, and he felt whole again.

He stood up and opened the door – it felt weird that it wasn’t locked, but Omentus wasn’t going to second guess his luck. On the other side, he found a wizard scrying through a mirror on the wall. He was investigating the surilith, and looked both perturbed and interested at the sight of Omen’s mockeries. Omentus closed the door behind him. As far as he could tell, the demon was a quarter done with dispatching the distraction. The necromancer helped himself to the mage’s cabinets, brushing wines and brandies out of the way as he searched the apartment.

He closed the cabinet and crossed the room to the desk beside the mage. He rifled through its drawers quickly, and ultimately found what he was looking for. Two small bottles, each labeled with the words faer drital. With some examination, his bone white eyes confirmed the variety for him. Each was meant to restore a portion of a mage’s personal well of mana. He took them both, and closed the desk again. As he quaffed the first, he tasted a familiar poison in the drink. Probably something the mage had inured himself to, as the potion did its job. With the second potion quaffed, Omentus felt rejuvenated.

The necromancer took a breath, and retrieved the jeweled white bottle from his cloak. One of two. He popped one of its caps off with his thumb, and envisioned the river shore while he drank its ounce of contents.

The next thing he knew, it was brighter than before. A pale luminous moss lit the vast chamber around the river, giving the seromancer’s teal eyes something realistic to work with. The air was thick with the cold mist of the river, and very few drow patrolled the way here. The girl was still snug in his arm, and he was safe for the nonce. Safe and refreshed. Since trapping the long corridor, he’d finally found a workable use for the surilith. It was time to bring the beast down.

The ground at Omentus’ feet was wet earth and sand, with the occasional very large stone sticking up out of it. Fifty-three feet in front of him was the river’s edge, and thirty feet downriver of that was the ruined bridge. The first ten feet or so of the bridge was intact but crumbling, and past that only some slick steel girders remained. These steel bars continued out across the river, before twisting with deformity and rust, and plunging into the water’s depths. Another fifteen feet after that, the destroyed bridge picked up out of the water again, and seemed mostly identical to the first half, though unaligned from it by a margin of seven feet, a little high and upriver.

The apothecary breathed a sigh of relief. He had traveled three hundred and forty feet down, and almost a mile and a half afield of the mage’s room. It would be no less than twenty minutes before the demon caught wind of him again, and it would take it another ten to traverse the maze down to the river. That gave him half an hour to work with. Lately, that was a lot of time, but it really wasn’t, in the grand scheme of things. So, he got to work quickly.

Crossing the bridge was no issue for the seromancer. His cleats were enchanted to help immensely in precarious situations such as this. Not only did they provide him with perfect traction, but they allowed him to resist being pushed or blown about by anything once he had at least one foot firmly in place. Therefore, as long as his balance was good, nothing else mattered.

He walked on the most upriver girder as he crossed the river, with a jaunty skip to a small, curling rebar that reached closest to the other half of the bridge. For the nonce, he really didn’t want to think about whatever must have been strong enough to do this to a bridge large enough to span the river. From the look of the damage, it was ripped apart in no more than a single motion. Gruesome, he thought.

When he reached the end of the bridge, he took a breath and leapt upward, using his autumn wings to catch him on the river wind, and fight with it enough to step on the downriver most piece of rebar that jutted toward the first half of the bridge. As soon as his foot was in place, everything was easy again. Three quick steps, and he was back on ‘solid’ ground again. Wasting no time, he crossed the rest of the bridge at a jog.

Once he was on the other side, he began to examine the rock structures. The geographical nature is akin to the first. Even to himself, he sounded disappointed. His eyes, currently a combination of drow and improved tiger, scanned the rock faces before the tunnels began again. It took him nearly half a minute to spot a crevice large enough for his needs. He walked over the beach briskly, and scooted himself into the crevice. Listening closely and examining the surroundings just as close, he was almost sure there was nothing else living in the crevice.

The autumn leaves that covered his left arm fell apart at his mental direction, letting Omentus put the girl down at last. He lay her out on the ground, with a pile of leaves for a pillow. Omentus whispered something, and his armor split apart at the seams, then crawled down from his body and onto the girl. Once there, it secured itself as commanded, firmly under the impression that to protect Leonna was to protect Omentus, its one true goal, and meaning, in life.

Next, Omentus took off his shirt, and laid it down beside the faerie girl. With a fine ajakad scalpel from his hip pack, he began to carve swirling cuts into his left upper chest, which led to an identical swirling cut on his left shoulder. The whorling cuts continued down his arm, until the last was on the back of his wrist. As he finished the chain, each wound healed in turn, leaving a vivid whorled scar where the cuts were. He searched his plan, looking for any other spell, effect or detail which was not time-sensitive.

From his cloak of many pockets, he retrieved the glove of dark hands and a plain copper band. He slipped both onto his right hand, and checked his stores of blood. Thael’s was running desperately short, the well having only a few drops left in it. Damn, I’ll need to harvest more. He switched some blood wells into other pockets for faster access, and one enchanted vial of fifteen dozen guren hawks went into a cloak pocket rather than his hip pack. He lifted the claw of his nekode, and scratched a strange, circular symbol into the rock nearby.

As the symbol was completed, a black ghost with bright red eyes burst from the stone and dove into Omen’s body. He gasped sharply, clutching the spot where it had touched him. His skin paled, turning as white as the flesh of the dead, while his veins blackened and bulged, becoming more visible as they more contrasted the tone of his skin. The teal color disappeared from his eyes as they turned into a sea of red shades, and a silver tear appeared at the edge of his eyes. The transformation complete, Omentus exhaled and felt heavy.

He began to listen, in his drow-like fashion. His hearing extended hundreds more feet in every direction. Far, far away, he could hear the familiar sounds of the demon’s chitinous legs scratching on and tearing away the volcanic stone of the mountain. Frowning, the apothecary figured the beast was still from from here, but it was still close enough to be heard.

The seromancer reached down and touched Leonna, while retrieving the well of Isalie’s blood from his cloak. He chanted the words, “Tinsu mara fael.” The faerie’s body glowed in response, and then that glow crept into the apothecary and vanished. He put away the blood well, and retrieved his potion flask. He opened his mouth, and used the nekode blade to slice a line into his tongue. With the hellsoul bound, he didn’t even flinch. He opened the cap on the flask, and drank all but the last 4 drams of potion. The wound in his tongue sealed, but nothing else changed.

Next, he held his hand near the faerie’s body and released the drow power sleeping in his blood. A ball of semisolid, pale violet fire appeared in the air over the girl’s chest, illuminating the crevice but shedding no heat. He dropped the flask, and black hands were already working quickly. One had an inked quill, two more were affixing a tag to the flask. In moments, it read:

Healing Potion, Strong
Sorry there’s so little left. Be
safe, and stay still; I have your
powers. I’ll be back soon.

He laid the bottle beside the girl, and wrapped the chain of autumn leaves around her left arm. As he pressed the chain’s last leaf into her palm, the tulip leaves collected around her body and wrapped about her, concealing the girl, the orb of faerie fire, and the potion flask from view. The skittering grew louder. Much closer now. The final stretch.

Omentus turned and stood up, dashing toward the bridge. With one hand, he tested the girl’s fire. A flame leapt from his palm, like a thing already familiar to him. He narrowed his eyes; a pane, the color of aurora, appeared in front of him. He strode over it, and found it solid. His cleats found easy purchase on the bridge again, and he crossed quickly. Through the darkness, he could not yet see the monster, but he knew it was close.

The seromancer reached the gap in the bridge and stepped off. This time, the pane of aurora appeared again, and he crossed over it instead of trying to fly from one half of the bridge to the next. He stepped onto the steel bar on the second half of the bridge and drew Valiau, steeling himself for what he knew would follow. A hand of cold darkness drew a scalpel with a red obsidian blade from his leg pack, and he released his vassyr scales into the air around him. They and the scalpel’s blade twinkled softly in the moss-light of the river cavern.

The surilith tore out from one of the volcanic tunnels at the far end of the beach, while Omentus was still standing on the steel bar over the river. The cold wind blew his cloak toward his left, revealing his deathly pale skin with its black veins bulging, and the brassy web that covered part of his chest, with its port over the place where his heart should be. Silver tears reached halfway down his cheeks, and his eyes were burning seas of red hues.

Omentus Anima stared down at the demon as its many eyes climbed up to meet his. He held out his left arm, and began to score crescent-shaped cuts into his flesh near each whorl on his body, using the blade his nekode. Black blood trickled slowly onto his skin. In both voices at once, Omentus told the demon over the wind of the cavern, “I am going to kill you now.”


For reasons Vamet did not quite know, this statement was like a chilling omen. He’d been alive for thousands of years, and heard dozens, if not hundreds, of very similar threats. It was not that this human had two voices. That, he was also used to. There was something about this man that made it seem like it was about to come true. For the first time in more than three hundred years, Vamet was scared. Not much, but enough to make him pause in his tracks.


Omentus ran down the bridge, hoping to get to the beach before the spider demon could reach the bridge. Though he couldn’t manage, it was not by much. The surilith leapt for him while the man was still ten feet on the bridge. He turned suddenly, dodging a stream of sticky, liquid webbing while jumping from the bridge and onto the wet sandy beach. Through his nape eye, he watched the demon set down on the bridge, about thirty feet out. It was at this time that he chose to turn about and retrieve the well of Fyhri’s blood. In both voices, he chanted the words, “Incotio sang,” and bit the tip of the nekode’s blade into his arm, drawing out a touch more of his blackened blood.

The demon turned to face him, and prepared to jump from the bridge. From the first whorl on his chest, a shining dart of black blood burst forth from his scar. The blood from the crescent near it sparkled and was drawn into the ripping whorl, bringing out three more darts identical to the first.

The demon hurdled toward Omentus, but the darts flew swiftly. The first one glanced off the armor of its head before the spider demon had even halved the gap between itself. It cut a line into the chitin on middle of the demon’s face, and the surlith’s blood burst from the cut, though the dart had not actually reached through all of the demon’s armor. A second dart struck the surilith on its side, eliciting more blood from the chitinous wound. Another dart flew over the demon, but came back around and sliced into the side of his abdomen. More blood, but the wounds should not have been deep enough for that.

The second whorl on Omentus’ chest burst open, bringing more of his black blood into a bladed dart. This one was larger than the others, its surface gleamed more dangerously. Omentus dragged his nekode blade across his arm, pressing his wounds further. The blood from the crescent near flew into the star, empowering the bloodstar far beyond its normal ability. This one struck the demon as it had crossed into the last half of its leap, and tore its way through one of the demon’s legs. On the way through, it dragged more of the surilith’s blood with it, tugging uncomfortably on the surilith’s veins as it flew. The wound began to heal almost immediately, but two more of the first four stars flew through the gap made, ripping it open even further. By the end of the bound, Vamet’s mind was no longer on his prey.

The demon touched down, but Omentus was no longer there. He’d run aside, further up the beach. Another whorl on his skin burst open, bringing blood from behind the hole it made in his flesh into a series of three bladed darts, each empowered by the seromancer’s sanguine sacrifice, each further taught to seek and rip blood from the demon’s hide as they sliced into its chitinous armor. The surilith smacked a dart from the air, but it would not abate. It was like hitting a steel brick, but a vampiric one that cut into the flesh and flew about you like an angry wasp.

Another whorl, this one on Omentus’ shoulder, tore away from his skin, empowered by the gore of its own creation. Twisted children created of that destruction flew out from the wound, five more darts. Omentus pressed the nekode blade into his flesh again, training these darts to seek blood as he retreated further onto the beach. The demon followed him, enduring each new bloody cut that appeared on its body, and grimacing as the larger star tore through its body again. What a wretched spell.

Yet another scar broke and left a bloody gore, more blood retreated from a crescent cut, another slice went into Omentus’ arm. He could barely feel the pain of it, but knew he’d be close to dead by the time these things had finished. This star was another of the large and powerful ones, the sort that could do real damage to the surilith. He grinned wickedly, his crimson eyes were wide and feral.

The sixth scar, another powerful star. Another cut in his arm. He closed the gap between he and the demon. The seventh scar, one more powerful star. Another cut in his arm. The scalpel wielded by the black hand darted under the surilith, and its hardened obsidian blade scored a cut into the chitin of its underbelly. The eighth scar, and four more black darts of dark blood and darker magic. Another cut in his arm, the scalpel cut again, and he put away the blood of Fyhri into his cloak again.

A spear-like arm of the surilith struck Omentus on the shoulder, and there was a piercing cry of pain that filled the air, followed immediately by an unbridled scream of the same. The sound came from neither Omentus nor the demon, though. His right hand was back, on the targe at his side. Lacerations slid across the targe’s flesh, while the last whorl vanished completely. A pair of large bloodstars struck the surilith hard in the face, biting through most of its armor and beckoning blood from within its face.


The demon hissed in pain, losing its sight for a moment. When it could see again, a furry corpse the shape of a small shield lay on the ground, and the necromancer was suddenly well again. As if nothing had even happened to him, no wretched spell or ripping of blood from his own body! A smaller dart flew across one of the demon’s eyes, and it flinched heavily with the pain. The human stepped quickly, climbing up onto Vamet’s body. His feet had found a bizarrely easy purchase on the demon’s chitin, he could feel that as the man’s weight pressed down on one of his legs. Blindly, he tried to swat for the man, but his limb met with a wall of some kind, and then another pain pierced his eye. This one was not so bad, and Vamet could finally see.

Disturbing. There was a syringe with black contents sticking out of his eye. He shook the man violently, and threw him off as another of the darts scored a deep cut into his side. The man fell to the ground, but rolled with the drop and seemed alright. So, Vamet thought, I really am fighting for my life.


Omentus had managed to bring Valiau with him when he was thrown from the demon, but the drug seemed to have no effect on the surilith. It was still regenerating every cut and gore. As soon as something seemed off, Omentus knew what it was. These darts were lasting longer than the normal bloodstars. What fortune. He grinned, feeling his advantage rising, but he couldn’t relax now. He sprinted for the demon head-on, lifting his right fist. A spear-like claw punched him in the side of the face, cracking his jaw. The hellsoul took the pain for him, and he yet concentrated. He thrust the nekode blade deep into the beast’s lower shoulder and continued to punch, slicing a wide cut across the surilith’s body. It opened its mouth with a grunt and prepared to bite him.

The surilith’s mandibles were wide open. Perfect. A hand of cold nether appeared from under his cloak, and flew inside the demon’s mouth, gripping a vial of fifteen dozen guren hawks. It flew back far, until it nearly choked the spider. An unfortunate flaw in the design of its body; it could not regurgitate its food, though its mouth and neck were designed for crushing the bodies of its meals quickly. It gagged, unable to spit up the vial, and very much afraid of what would happen if it were to bite down. The scalpel under its body cut into the chitin again, but drew no blood.

Simultaneously, the three most powerful of the bloodstars rammed into the body of the surilith, spearing deep holes into its body while two of the demon’s feet stabbed against Omentus. He slid backward on the wet beach. One of the surilith’s feet had broken his left shoulder, the other had cut across his chest. He put away Valiau, finding the lack of pain from moving a shattered shoulder to be refreshing. The demon charged at him, while the scalpel under its body scored a painless curve into the chitin. Omentus lifted his left hand. A silver tear dropped off his cheek, and a manic grin was spread across his face.

A massive tongue of fire – first bright yellow, then blazing white, then liquid-like as it turned the air around it to plasma – leapt out from his outstretched hand and enveloped the surlith’s right half. The blast destroyed all but four of the stars, but seared the demon. Over the roar of the flame, Omentus could hear it screaming. The fire curved around the back of it, up, and then washed down over the demon’s back and eyes.


When the river of flame abated, there was a thing in the mind of the demon. It was not quite like thought, nor instinct. It was a knowledge that death was nearing, and it shut out all other things. The world was quiet to Vamet, and it had only one reason to be there. He hesitated no more, his movements were notion into action, like there were no thought or soul in him to intervene on one to the next. He could see out of only three eyes, now. It didn’t matter. The man’s handblade sliced across his half-melted leg. He didn’t care.


The demon lifted its body and from its spinnerets spat a gout of webbing. Flame sprung in front of the apothecary to protect him. The webbing steamed with black vapors and shriveled away. The demon was gone from Omentus’ sight. Suddenly, a massive weight struck Omen on the back of his head, and another one on the small of his back. Both pierced through his skin, and he bled heavily. He stumbled forward and caught himself, turning to face his foe. It lunged for him, and bit down around Omentus’ head. Blood like pitch poured from blood mage’s face and crown, while his nekode blade pierced the bottom of the surilith’s mouth. Muscle and panes of shifting aurora light struggled together, prying the demon’s maw from the apothecary’s head. Once free, he stumbled backward, and a burnt spear of chitin thrust through his gut.

His mental direction shifted. With his right hand, he dislodged himself from the demon’s spear-like claw. The remaining bloodstars crashed hard against the demon’s back. Three smaller, one larger. The three shattered, leaving bloody pits in their wake, the larger went through the demon’s thorax and out the other side, the came again and impacted the bottom of its head, forcing its mouth closed as the dart was smashed into liquid pieces. From the holes in its body, the surilith suddenly hummed. Nearly two hundred angry insects bit and stung at the demon’s insides, some flew out of holes in its chitin and attacked its mouth and eyes. The demon wailed in pain, thrashing its body left and right.

Omentus stumbled forward, keeping himself close to the surilith. The obsidian scalpel under its body slashed back and forth, trying desperately to work murder on the beast. The demon bit down again, and spat dead guren hawks from its mouth. Five vassyr scales darted through the air, impacting with its front when it dove for the seromancer again. Omen’s right hand came up, and the blade pierced the demon’s left spear-claw as it thrust for him again. Another leg came from his left, and struck him hard, throwing him onto the ground. A foot stomped on his back, followed by another. The seromancer coughed and spat up blood. The demon’s feet rose again, and as they fell, Omen rose slightly, and threw himself out of the way.

One of the demon’s feet pierced his left leg and kept going, two feet into the wet earth of the beach. The surilith lifted Omen from the ground, bodily, and hurled him at the cavern wall. From his back, faerie wings burst into existence and shone brilliantly. They beat furiously, driving him back to the surilith. The thing heaved and panted, badly injured and growing quickly tired. Omentus hit the ground ungracefully, and pushed the wings back into hiding again. He stumbled to a stand, and looked at the demon in the eyes. Silver tears dripped from his face, staining the ground.

The surlith was close to death, Omentus should have been past it. The first was like a tour of wickedest torture, the second was worse off. Omen found standing up to be difficult, and looked down to see why. The only thing about his leg that had not be severed and shredded, was a single muscle belly, a few tendons, and his fibula. His guts hung bloodily from his open stomach, and there was a slash on his chest that had managed to cut into his ribs and one lung. The veins in his skin were gray from lack of blood, and his shoulder had been crushed into a bloody, sticky pulp. Lesser cuts and holes adorned his body freely; many of them would have been called grievous in the first place.

He looked at the demon, who was only staring at him. It had never seen this, a human or perhaps any other creature, who could withstand so much abuse and yet stand. Even the undead were like to be destroyed by this point. Omentus swallowed heavily and smiled. The potion began its work, repairing quickly all the damage that had been done to him since the real fight began. It took less than four seconds before the only things left on Omentus’ body were just a few deep scratches.


The demon took a step back, preparing to flee. It turned and hurdled toward the bridge, but stopped short. Cold hands had appeared, grabbing it by the legs; the human had grabbed it by both hind legs. He flew only two feet before hitting the ground again. The impact was more jarring than it should have been. Vamet stumbled to his feet and got ready to try again. He could not die, not now or here of all places. Not against one puny human with no one to help him. Vamet grew desperate.

Green runes appeared on the man’s copper ring. They glowed brightly, and the demon lifted into the air. Its legs struggled to throw it toward the bridge again, but found no purchase. Guren hawks teemed over its body, biting and stinging it. As it rose into the air, it began to fall again. The world seemed a dozen times heavier as it fell, and the Vamet heard his exoskeleton cracking in places when he hit the ground. The awful truth dawned on him. There would be no escape. That frightening human would not allow it, and Vamet had no say in the matter at all. It was either fight, or die. He crawled up from the ground and rounded himself to lash out at the man again.


Omentus panted heavily. He’d used that strength he didn’t know he had again, but he did manage to keep the surilith near him, and from the look of it, it had decided to fight him again. The last black hand zipped under Omen’s cloak again.

The surilith spoke a word that shook the very fabric and balance of the world around it, “Ndethirangotun!” A vile wave of corruption and evil, with a presence of sickly black and orange colors, swept outward from the demon. It struck the gurens dead, and Omentus felt sick. Cuts appeared across his body, slicing him all over as the word, the essence of wretchedness, sunk into his body and soul. The demon lifted its abdomen to hit the seromancer with webbing again.

“Tinsu oscrues fara kellgura aubot,” Omentus began to chant, using both voices. He held out his hand toward the geometric circle that had been scored onto the demon’s underside. As the webbing came, so did fire from Omentus’ other hand. The seromancer finished the chant, “Ngg-dda, eph-ho telzotha glaur fara yje mael.” The surilith prepared to leap away from him, but a light of bright green and orange erupted from the circle, dragging it toward the ground. Omentus stepped back.

The circle twisted and shifted, sinking away into the demon’s body. The surilith suddenly heaved and stumbled, its vision splitting. It swatted for the air around it, and the regeneration across its body stopped. It body shook, and began to spasm in pain. The thaumaturgy had taken root. The surilith’s immunity to poison had been robbed from it. It now felt each poisonous intrusion to its body as surely as a babe might.

The surilith was howling; a sound that filled the chamber and shook its way deep into the tunnels. It was the sound of a surilith dying not in a single instance, but trapped in an undulating cascade of hundreds of deaths, each from nothing but agony. It was a wail that made the soul shudder.

Omentus walked forward calmly, with Beli in his right hand. He stuck the syringe’s bevel into the beast’s face, and injected it with half a milliliter. “Hush,” he said, and it did. The change was almost instantaneous. It grew calm, and merely stood on the beach.

The seromancer took a cup from his hip pack, and walked down the river’s edge. He filled the cup halfway with water, and dropped in a dram from the clear bottle of zombie blood. As he walked back to the surilith, he stirred the water with his finger. Once there, he merely lifted the cup to the beast’s mouth and made it drink. In its stupefied state, it didn’t know any better than to comply. Next, he bandaged and patched up its wounds, and injected it with a heavy dose of lextet, a powerful type of pain killer which had no effect on mental acuity. Then, he waited for it to awaken. It only took about ten minutes.

Once awake from the beli, the surilith lifted its claw at Omentus, ready to strike him down again. “Stop,” Omentus commanded. The surilith complied. “You are now my servant. You will be calm and nonaggressive. It is your goal to protect my life, and will do so at any time that it becomes necessary. Do you understand?” The surilith nodded, indicating its comprehension. “We’re going to cross the bridge. You shall also protect the life of the girl that we meet on the other side, as if she were me. She and I are friends, and you shall treat her as kindly as you would treat me. Do you understand?” It nodded again, and followed him across the river.

Once they reached the other side, Omentus walked toward the crevice, with one hand on the surilith’s head, to indicate its servility. He wasn’t sure if the girl had woken yet or not.

Ren stomped around the crystal, knowing the large form he had spotted lunging for him before the acid storm would be upon him very soon. It was probably something spider-like but he had never seen a spider quite that large before. Sure, he used to be the Drow Empire’s assassin a few years ago, but he wasn’t raised by them really. There were a lot of things about the drow he didn’t know, not like Rontu did. Especially since he was taken to the unit that was stationed in Hyrule only, and never to any drow city. It was just an outpost. He did know about the drow’s goddess Lolth, the Spider Queen, and obviously the sigil of the drow was the red hourglass mark of the black widow.

They liked spiders.

A lot.

So it wasn’t too much of a surprise. But it was going to be rather annoying. The spider was just a big distraction from what he needed to do. The drow were not a brave lot. Deviously clever and wicked, but when faced with something they knew they cannot deceive or kill they scuttle away like the little spiders they are. Ren didn’t want to scare the drow woman away before he could kill her. They were also an arrogant bunch, so his transformation probably hadn’t shaken her just enough to flee yet. So he hoped.

The squishing her little spider might though.

He was much bigger than it now. Though he wasn’t sure yet of what kind of qualities it had. He couldn’t trust that it was going to be as weak as any normal spider or any that he had seen during his time with the empire. Priestesses got the best of things. Of course, that bothered him little. He was feeling rather invincible at the moment. But he remembered his grandfather’s words and tried not to be too cocky about something he knew little about.

The point was that he wanted to get as close as he could to the priestess before the spider forced him to come and play.

His mind and body felt very clear. He could feel things he hardly could before. Magic had been something left largely undeveloped by him. His ability to shape shift had made this easier, but now everything was crystal clear. There was a barrier around the crystal save for one gap. He could feel its pressure inside him now whenever he neared it. He found the gap to the crystal’s face.

He crouched down and then sprung, leaping into the air, launching himself at the crystal’s face. He smashed his claws into it, digging into the stone, sending pieces of it shattering to the ground below. His leap had taken him fifteen feet up the crystal, about half way where he started to climb his way up to. He scrambled quickly, the stone crumbled and slid from under him as his clawed. He was only about two feet from reaching the top now.

OoC: Okay, Drammie, I’m leaving the priestess and the spider in your hands. Please attack my Ren ^^

Sorry this is no long post, but I needed Drammor's help.

I fell against Khaz, his coldness filling me. So this was what his true face was? Death? I smiled slightly at the thought. Now we finally had something in common. Demons of fire and ice, creatures whose real substance was full of darkness...perhaps there really was no hope for us...

And then I laughed. “Your love is an illusion? This darkness within you is what is real? Khaz...you do not understand. I have lived my life as death's messenger, a force that consumes all it touches. This I forget when you smile...when you do, I become something else. This illusion...this lie...is that what they call happiness? If that is true, then this darkness...our reality...it is nothing more than an illusion as well. What lies behind that mask?”

I picked my head up from off of his shoulder, staring into his eyes once again. Yes...there was death there...but not if I chose not to see it. Khaz had once been able to see past mine...he had seen something I could not. Now it was my turn. He was in there somewhere...that I had to believe.

“Water shows the reflection of everything around it, much like you say your eyes reflect what others want to see. In darkness, it is endlessly black, forever cold. But do you know what happens when pure light touches water? It becomes a rainbow. The choice is up to you, but,” I smiled darkly back at him, feeling my flame begin to arise again, “I can be just as dark as you can.”

That bitter smile never left him as he stared at me; my words did not penetrate him. And then he laughed a bitter excuse for one. "You think you know darkness? You don't even know yourself. You think spewing your pretty poetic words at me makes them true? I don't lap up bull**** just because I want it to be true. Unlike you, who is trying to make this her pitiful last hope for happiness. Unlike you, who regrets taking life and harming others."

He stood up and turned so that the blackness in the trees was behind him and he faced me. "Don't pretend you think you know me when you don't even know who you are or what you are. What you think you know is only what others have told you about yourself. You don't know a thing about the difference between you and me. You've never seen what I've done, but don't worry; I never regretted a single moment of it. Because I've never let anyone convince me that it was wrong."

He paced back slowly now, toward the shadowy figure behind him. "Doesn't change the fact that they thought it was. Doesn't change that whatever they see in his eyes chases them away." He stopped just at the edges of the trees.

"About love and happiness ... I knew those things once—a lifetime ago. I know when it's real, and I know when it isn't. And I won't let you convince me or yourself that this happiness you claim is real, because you're just an ignorant, naive little girl. So of course who you think what I make you feel is the real thing. I've done it time and time again. Don't think you're any different from the others cause you're not. It's just because you're alone and you want someone to love you, so you give it up for someone you hardly know just because they were a little kind to you. You know a lot about being alone and the pains of it, but you know nothing of love or hatred." The cold stirred in his eyes again and hissed the word. His voice shook with the anger and pain. "Rage ... You've never had anything to lose. You've never had happiness and love ripped from you so suddenly and violently. Helpless to keep your world from crumbling to your feet. Over and over and over ..."

I glared back at him, my hands shaking. “Perhaps you speak the truth, but you are wrong about my past...I once knew what love was. I just could not return it. Everything I had I destroyed with my own two hands. I cannot give you happiness, or anyone else...such is my fate. But you do not deserve darkness. You still have a choice, Khaz. Please...”

I must have looked pitiful, begging on my knees as I was, but that was not important. Khaz was leaving, going into a darkness that I could not follow; the darkness that brought death...emptiness...

Let me go with you...

He stared at me, no softness there in his eyes for me. Just cold, hard disbelief.

"If that's true, then you'll understand why I can't return it either ... the love." Except for one moment. There was softer sadness in his eyes. "You don't know how wrong you are ... about yourself. Don't ever let them tell you that you're a monster, Leonna. Don't ever believe it."

And he stepped back again. "Don't worry about me. I don't think I deserve anything hurtful because I've never done anything wrong. This darkness is just part of us ... him and me. I have nothing to fear from it."

He stepped back in the shadows that wrapped around his form, disappearing into it. I reached towards him, wishing I could stop him, but I knew it was hopeless. Khaz had made his own choice, and that I had no power over.

So, in the end...neither one wants me. I am too dark for the light ones, and too light for the dark. Is that not what a monster is? A freak of nature that can be accepted by no one? To believe that I am not...that would be believing in a lie.

Even as I thought this, the darkness began to move forward again, closing in on me. Slowly, the trees and grass began to fade, slipping away as fluidly as if they were made of water. This time, the darkness held no warmth for me. It was cold...so cold and empty, just as I was...

OoC: The END has come! Leonna's still unconcious, by the way (not that you didn't know, of course).

Qilintha had seen dragons before. Rarely had she seen any so pale, but she'd seen them, and fought them, before this day. They had many advantages in a fight. Colossal strength, breath weapons, near immunity to some types of energy, keen intellect, and so on. Still, Qilintha was a drow, and that made her the Goddess' favored, and not this overgrown lizard that scrambled on the face of her precious dark crystal. So much stone, so much work, and it was being defiled by a creature that didn't even know who to worship. Her lip curled into a sneer as she looked down at it. She spoke loud enough for her suriliths to hear her, which probably also meant speaking loud enough for the dragon to hear, "Auauthia, Canduth. Attend this."

The first rule of fighting a dragon was to know the ground you stand on. What can you use, and what advantages can you gain? She lifted the sheathed sword, and signaled to the crossbowmen on the higher tier. Although not all of them saw her at first, it did not take long before bolts began to rain down on the pale dragon. She set her hand on the altar and whispered a prayer to the Goddess. The Goddess responded, granting the weapons of her soldiers an improved capacity for striking through the defenses of foes. Qilintha was not foolish enough to think this would be enough, of course.

The high priestess tapped into the energy sleeping inside the crystal. Not the roiling storm that the others felt, but the throbbing power in its core. Sheets of mana peeled away from the aura it shed, and it bathed the dragon in its mockery of the light. It was a cold and terrible power, the heartblood of an abominable scar on the world, whose very presence could drink the vigor of the living until naught but ashen husks were left behind. Only slivers of it were released, but each one could have struck a strong female dead in her tracks.


Canduth and Auauthia were familiar with dragons, as well. They knew that unless the creature were young, it was unwise to fight one on even ground. Though they occupied different parts of the chamber entirely, each responded in the same way. They gouged lines into the nearest wall, until an arcane gateway was outlined, and chanted in the dark tongues known only to the foulest creatures of the Abyss. The gateways split open, revealing a nightmarish landscape of darkness, horrors and webs beyond. From each gateway, a second surilith answered the call of the summoner, and stepped through. The demons did not need to speak, they could communicate with others near enough to them through purely mental means. Therefore, as soon as these spider demons arrived, they had already been apprised of the situation. The gates closed.

Auauthia looked across the cavern at Canduth and the other surilith. Both nodded. What followed was like a beautiful and deadly dance of motion and sound.

Pharym, the larger of the two newcomers, was the first to act. She shot a thick strand of webbing at a walkway overhanging the crystal, and secured her tether to it with ease. Next, she leapt across to another tier of the chamber, and did the same.

Negaseus responded next. He leapt outward, toward the dragon. His right claw, and otherwise spear-like limb, was clad in a gleaming adamantite gauntlet, with large blades protruding from its end. Similar armor, though of different metals or hides, covered the rest of the surilith's body. If anything, its helm made the surilith seem even more demonic than it would normally be. As Negaseus hurdled through the air, he chanted words of arcane power. "Fallile, bomi zeso disust," he uttered, filling the cavern with an otherworldly chill. A cold blue fire erupted from his adamantite claw, and flames of the same licked along his armored body. A foam of webbing covered his underside, which would attach him firmly to the dragon's back once he struck it.

Auauthia gestured silently. Across the cavern from her, a shadowy double of Negaseus appeared and dropped onto the ground. Its armor gleaned just as clearly, but didn't seem as real. Still, its weight was a present thing on the ground, dimissing the idea that the shadow double could be a mere illusion. The shadow bounded for the Ren's legs.

As Pharym's second strand struck the walkway above, she nodded to Canduth. Both made gestures in the air; one chanted in the dark tongue. Negaseus' speed was enhanced, followed by a dangerous gleam on the side of its bladed gauntlet, and drops of poison appeared on the various spikes across the berserker demon's body. Both Pharym's and Canduth's next spells finished at the same time. While eight oozing tentacles each fourteen feet long erupted from Negaseus' body, it simultaneously doubled in size. A strange, oily sheen appeared on Negaseus's back, further protecting it through the yochlol's blessing.

Auauthia gestured a second time. As she did, a second shadow reminiscent of Negaseus appeared, but was thankfully not as large as the original at this time. Combined with the near-continuous rain of magicked crossbow bolts, these wicked demons could certainly pose a challenge.

I woke up shivering. At first, I thought this was due to the fact that I had just come out of a horribly lucid nightmare. Then, slowly, my body awoke. The first sensation was the pounding in my head, the result of bickering blood in the majority of my body. Second was the heaviness of my chest, which struggled to move for the absence of strength within it. Finally, my skin delivered its painful message, the fierce cold of the hard ground beneath me piercing through my body like a thousand tiny icicles.

All I could do was moan. Just this tiny movement within my chest caused a new flurry of raw pain to flare within my body. Something was wrong, but my mind was too concerned with the vegetation I was covered in to care. It was not a tight entanglement, or of such incommodious nature that I felt the need to break free of it, rather, it was the aperture of understanding as to how I had made it to such a place that disturbed me, for I had no memory of walking into a small dark hole, and certainly not the slightest idea as to why I would have buried myself in leaves.

And then the frightful realization that I did not even recall where I had been to began with hit me. Aside from the dark and deep and warm dream that had seduced my mind, there seemed to be no other sense of memory within me. It was almost as if this dark reality had left my mind so thirsty for any kind of warmth that it had turned within itself to be immersed in imaginary pleasures, which had effectively drowned out my pain until rudely awakened by its own darkness. There was no protection from this even within the depths of my own mind!

While my brain remained numb to all thought and my body became steadily more alert, it occurred to me that I ought to find a source of warmth before I froze over in the dark hole. The leaves rustled around me as I moved to sit up, but they would not relent. Somewhere within this natural net, there was a flickering purple light, licking the dry leaves around it as it cast dreadful shadows against the darkness. Such a sight was so surreal that I found myself playing with the bizarre notion that I had been swallowed by some sort of plant beast. It certainly was dark enough to be a stomach.

As my hands clenched, I found that I was actually holding on to a small string of the leaves, which had been wrapped around my left arm. Wishing only that it leave me alone, I frantically began to tear at the string, lashing my arm out to clear away the suddenly beast-like foliage. As I struggled, the cord became only more viselike, until by some good fortune, I found the sense to let go of it with my left hand. As the string left my grasp, the tough strings holding the leaves together suddenly vanished, and they collapsed and condensed into a long string that remained twisted around my arm.

Finally liberated from the tangle of leaves, I easily pulled the string from my arm, throwing it aside with all of the strength my weak arms could manage. I pulled my protesting body up into a sitting position, staring at what now remained in the cavern— an orb of floating purple fire.

I stared at the bright coloration with stupefied curiosity, trying to make sense of it. The eerie glow of the flame was disturbingly ghost-like, with no warmth, and its light served only to outline the rough walls of rock that now surrounded me.

A cage of rock for a cage of leaves.

I leaned back, curling my knees close into my chest to preserve what warmth I had left. This position served to bring a small degree of comfort to me, protecting the warmth of my own body and taking my back off of the chilling surface of stone which I now sat on. Taking a deep breath, I rested my chin on my knees, closing my eyes and wishing the world around me would disappear.

How did this happen?

I made another attempt to dig into my memory, trying to scrape out of the pit of darkness it had fallen into. There had been something before this, there had to have been for me to exist now! I swatted out the dreamy shadows that remained in my head, trying to remember something, anything, that would bring me back through the past.

All that answered my desperate attempts was a vague picture of trees, of a light blue sky that was not quite right. Then came darkness in the form of a man, a shadow that reached out to take every last bit of shattered joy that remained within me. His claws extended from my mind and down into my throat, his frozen arm digging into my chest, where it seized my heart. As I sat curled up helplessly, the cold spoke only of despair and death-- a name, a single word, a thing, being whispered of whose endless happiness had been stolen from me. Even as my heart froze and my chest filled with anguish, the name became clearer, more prominent, as if the shadows of my mind were eagerly parting to hit me with the final blow.

Khaz

Khaz. That single syllable, that small word, that vague name suddenly fell upon me with all the force of a meteor, crushing my chest into shattered bits of ice. My whole body went rigid, as if this could stop the pressure within my lungs that threatened to rip me asunder. From all of this, a cry erupted from my chest, the desperate wail springing from the very depths of my soul, for I had realized something— something so utterly painful that my mind had tried to hide it from me.

Khaz. That name brought back fire, sweet words, the scent of salt water, the security of a warm embrace. It gave me sight back into the world somewhere far away, of all the wonderful things glittering in the flame of the sun. It reminded me of a forgotten promise, of people who needed protecting, of an old man whose respect I had always desired. That singular word brought back everything that was not darkness, everything that was not blood, tears, and pain.

And it was gone. Khaz, the man I had spent so little time and experienced so much with was gone. With him were Rontu and Ren, comrades that had been left to die in a black hole, surrounded by hungry demons. With him was the promise of escape, the strength to survive, the hope that there was something other than this dark, empty world beneath the ground. And he was gone, dead, abandoned by none other than me.

How could I even dream of his survival? We had all been surrounded by numberless drow, an army of spiders, and a dark magic so strong that it had threatened to take all of my strength. I had been too weak to fight, too weak to protect any life at all, and then I had been taken by the demon.

The demon

Where was he? Had he not been the one to stab sleep in my veins? Had he left me in the crevice of a rock merely to let me rot, alone and tortured by my own failures?

A flash of light. A scream of pain. The sound of thunder echoing through the darkness.

I opened my eyes suddenly, lifting my head to see what was disturbing the perfect black. Where the purple light extended only into darkness, there was a flash of fire, and more screaming echoed around the cavity of the rock which I sat in. With morbid curiosity, I crept forward on my hands and knees, only to be surprised by something much closer than the conflict going on within the darkness. My hand had brushed against something soft, and when I clenched my hand in surprise, it closed around a velveteen piece of fabric. With a panicked gasp, I stared down at the thing in my hand, realizing with confusion that I held a black shirt.

Then I saw something much more frightening.

On my chest, or rather, wrapped around me was a monstrous piece of flesh, whose chitinous surface was webbed together with sickenly white pieces of bone. The Thing actually felt like it was moving, adjusting its body as I moved. I could even feel its leg-like clasp on my back twitch as I squirmed underneath its flat body. My arms involuntarily tightened against my sides, my elbows bent with my fingers curled up against my face as I brought myself up off of the ground.

For a moment, I simply knelt there in utter horror, until my gaze happened to fall upon my right shoulder. Right there, only inches from my face, was the small grinning head of a monster, whose fangs gleamed maliciously in the glow of the bright ghost light.

I screamed. I screamed and lost all control of my body, which thrashed against the rock wall of the crevice. My right shoulder smashed against the wall, and then my back, and then my shoulder again, the rest of me tearing at the plates of green flesh stuck to my body. The whole time, the Thing began to twitch uncomfortably, tightening against me as if urging me to stop.

I did not.

Again and again I hit the Thing against the wall, pulling at its legs to break its hold on me. It continually tightened until I had trouble breathing, but I was too far gone to care. My whole body was acting on instinct, revolted by the insect-like horror that clung to me like a parasite. With a little more frenzied attacks, I actually managed to weaken its hold on me, and with a final scream, I threw the thing off of me, hitting it against the rock with a sickening thud. Without another glance, I ran out of the rock crevice, only to trip and fall onto the unforgiving ground, which tore at my exposed skin. With a groan, I moved to get back up again, but a horrifying revelation came to me.

Someone else was here.

OoC: Well, that was interesting. And weird. Hope this gets us by until Shrub posts

"Oh my," Omentus said. He had walked near enough to the fey girl that he could see her clearly. She was scrambling, however slowly, to stand up. A fall had torn her skin, and she looked very ill. "It seems I must have something you need, faerie girl." His voice was callous and objective, but not mean.

Focusing, Omen pulled a draught of the fey energy from the well inside himself. The energy diffused from his skin and flowed into the area around them, lighting the area with a misty aurora of blues, violets, greens and white. The girl winced reflexively before her eyes adjusted to the light. She looked up at him, and then fell onto her posterior, gasping at what she'd seen.

Omentus looked back to the demon, blinking slowly. "He will not harm you," he said calmly, "I've given him the order to protect you." Still the girl was recoiling from him, back toward the crevice he'd left her in. Omentus hmmed audibly. "Ah, right!" He exhaled, but it was a breath that didn't seem to be mere air. Immediately thereafter, a black ghost with red eyes left his body, and swam into the carven symbol on the rock behind Leonna. With the ghost gone, the apothecary's colors suddenly looked more human. His skin was once again fair-toned, his eyes turned teal with a soft red light from within them, and his blood turned red. The silver tears that had been dripping from his face vanished completely, and he winced at the pain of his wounds.

Omentus walked forward toward the girl. "You're injured, I need to fix that," he said. Her back hit the rock of the crevice, and a whimper escaped from her lips. She was still terrified of him, and the apothecary did not know how to solve it. He pressed his lips together in dismay and frustration.

From the animus jewel, a voice he'd not often heard spoke up. Omentus, let me help. I have more experience with children than you. Isaac Helonis. One of the many men whose blood Omentus had taken and homunculized, Isaac was a father of two sons and a daughter. Omentus had taken his blood not for that reason, but because the man was a smith. Isaac's youngest, his daughter, had a fear of storms. He'd spent many a night with his daughter in his arms, consoling her against the frights outside. Helping a scared little girl was one of the things that Isaac did best. Mentally, the seromancer gave the nod to Isaac.

"Calm down, girl," Omentus' body said. His voice was different - warm and caring, with the sort of bass quality that gave it the sound of an older man. His expression, too, had changed. It was Isaac at the reins, not Omentus. "I know it's scary, but it's going to be alright." He paused for a moment, "I know I don't look the best, and I'm sorry for that, but it's dangerous down here." He knelt down on the stone and held out his hands, like a new father waiting for his child to walk to him. "I... I'm not a demon, I promise. I'm just different, and I want to help you. Let me help you, alright?"

“Help…me?” My words were a fearful gasp, sounding foreign even as I spoke them. Something was wrong with help. This demon man had taken me from Khaz, from escape, and now, surrounded by dark and evil things, he professed to help me?

But his words are so kind, so misunderstood…

And yet he had drugged me, somehow stolen the warmth from my body. I could feel it as he gazed at me, this emptiness within myself where the flame should have been. The sensation left a hollow ache within me, as if my body still longed for it, and I felt myself involuntarily drawn to the man. He was not being cruel like the drow would have been, and he offered strength in my weakness.

But it was not right. Khaz, Rontu, Ren…they were all suffering even as we spoke! This man had stolen them from me, stolen the death that I rightly deserved, and he had somehow taken my power along with it. This invader, this man…could he not be the one who had deformed the drow in such an unnatural way? Khaz had said there was fighting, that he was most likely dead, but...

He had not mentioned it was a demon at work. A demon that had come for me.

I felt myself blanch even as the sickening images forced themselves into my mind. The dark creature’s organs, exposed and hanging from its body, its face an expression of bliss even as the veins protruded from its transparent skin, all of this hideousness until it woke up…until it woke up screaming. That terrible happiness of the remains of a creature…to think that I had also shared that fatal bliss…

But I was alive. How much longer that would be, I did not know. At the moment, I was not even sure if I could choose. I did not have the strength to run, to protect myself from another enemy. There was no way of knowing where I was or where to run to.

“I d…do not w-want to die here. Khaz…Khaz and the others…they still need me.” There was no hope in the quiver of my voice, which now held only fear. Though I had spoken of Khaz, there was a biting regret that struck me at the use of his name, knowing all too well that the likelihood of his surviving was nearly impossible.

"Khaz?" Omentus asked, still speaking in Isaac's voice. He bit his lips softly, thinking. "Is that one of the boys you were with? I'm sure he's alright... your other friend, the half dragon. I gave him a sort of... well, a sort f potion. He took it as we-" Suddenly, the light all around the two of them went out, and a perfect, silver-white effulgence left the seromancer's body. It pervaded the air around the girl and the man, and then vanished as it neared Leonna.


It was like taking a breath of the bright aether - the air of the Olympean heavens, where the gods resided. By comparison, the air of man was thick and polluted, a gas of oily lead. It filled the girl with vital and familiar warmth, strengthened her limbs and pulsed in her veins with the essence of the astral plane, normalcy parred beyond perfection.

Contrastingly, the seromancer shivered, chattering for a moment before he forced himself to stop. He knelt forward, clutching his chest. He took a steeling breath before he continued speaking. "Your friend took my potion. They aren't quite safe, but I'm sure they're alright. We need to get moving... when we get where we're going, I can try to check on your friends and make sure they're well and safe. Do you have the healing elixir I left with you? It isn't safe down here, but our new friend and I, we'll make sure nothing gets you."

The apothecary let go of his chest, and looked up at Leonna. His eyes glowed softly in the cavern; a bit red from the drow's vision, and a bit golden from the light of the glowing moss and the tapetum in his eyes.

What’s happening to Ren?! he asked Takai urgently. All of this was spinning more and more out of control as the seconds went by. He could hardly understand what was going on anymore.

“He’s gone into Kituson, but he has a firm grasp on his mind this time. I’m not sure why yet. He’s still trying to kill the High Priestess on top of the altar. She has his sword. She ordered two Abyssal spiders to attack him. They’ve summoned two others to help them.” Takai filled him in quickly without pause. The good thing about their communication was that it seemed to take a lot less time than actually speaking.

A-abyssal …? You mean like demons?

“More or less.”

Will—will they kill him? Khaz asked, dread squeezing his insides.

“It’s certainly possible, though the fact that Ren has control when he normally never does is an encouraging omen. There seems to be more at work here than meets the eye.” Takai responded in his usual velvety monotone, not very concerned.

But Khaz lost his breathe. It was true that he and Ren had never gotten along very well or were very close to each other. Ren poked fun and hurtful remarks at his clumsy feet and somewhat air-headed ways the most out of any of them. But it was more like Ren was that annoying bratty brother that drove you insane, and yet you still love him.

Ren was alone.

And the only excuse for family he could claim was a freak of a father who just wanted to enslave him. He had been able to forgiven Ren of his past crimes because he knew … He knew how Ren really felt about himself. He acted conceited, but he knew Ren really hated himself. He and Takai forgave Ren because he regretted it all. Ren regretted deeply and made no excuses for himself and his past actions.

And they were family now. All they had in this life was each other. What were they but a collection of orphans, runways, and misfits? No one else would look after them. They had to look after each other. No one else but they would feel the pain of his passing. And he could take it no more. Those demons were going to tear Ren apart.

Khaz turned his head quickly; about to converse with Rontu about this, but then someone stepped up to them. Both men looked to the pair of bare black feet. Following the feet up a pair of long, curvy, and slender legs to lovely hips and a wonderful female drow body. The woman wore a small amount of clothing that left nothing to the imagination. The skirt she wore drifted down to her knees, slit up the sides all the way to her hips. The material was a very fine silky gossamer, hanging from her flared hips from a very thin silver band that encircled them. The cloth looked almost like cob webs and was very transparent. It could be seen that she wore absolutely nothing else under it. Her top was strapless, sleeveless, leaving her alluring shoulders and arms all bare. It seemed to be made out of the same material, though more condensed around her breasts, but still rather transparent. More material hung down from the top, thinner and more translucent, floating around her middle, slits down the sides as well. A blade was strapped around one of her thighs; some small bands of web-like jewelry encircle her arms. Her lovely angular face peered down at the men, an arousing smirk shaping her soft lips as her eyes narrowed.

Rontu cursed mentally. A priestess. They were found out, not that their hiding place would have lasted long anyway. The bodies they hid under would grow cold and they would stay warm. Rather obvious to drow eyes. But he had been hoping any priestesses in the room would have seized the situation to kill each other. He hoped that somehow they would all end up dying or at least narrowing the numbers down to only one priestess to deal with.

He slowly shoved the body off of himself, and rose to his knees. Gold eyes never leaving the woman in front of him. The movement next to him alerted him that Khaz had done the same, but something felt wrong. His eyes darted over to his Hylian companion. Khaz’s eyes were stuck on the woman, his expression that of an entranced person. His eyes wide, mouth opening just slightly. He looked as if he had been knocked breathless by her. Khaz’s reaction to this woman all suddenly clicked inside Rontu’s head.

There was no more concern for Ren inside Khaz’s mind now. This lovely and dark creature before him was all that filled his vision and his thoughts. She smiled at him and held her arms out to him, inviting. And he wanted to go to her. More than anything. This was what he wanted at this moment.

Pain—something struck him hard on the side of his head.

His jaws and teeth grinded hard together, and his head also smacked hard against the cold stone floor, having been knocked to the ground by that pain wrecking blow.

Rontu snatched a weapon from the ground before turning and punching Khaz in the jaw. Trying to hit hard enough to jar him awake from the spell, but light enough that he would remain conscious. He had grabbed an arming sword and a knife nearby in his other hand. He stood with eyes on the drow female now.

Her pretty smirk formed into a pouting scowl, seeming displeased that Rontu had not fallen under the same enchantment as Khaz, and that he had also quickly saw it for what it was to act in time for his companion. It was probably her favorite way to kill men. Her arms drifted back now that Khaz would not be coming to her. Her hand went to her side, were it found the hilt of a thin, one-edged sword strapped horizontally to the small of her back.

She unsheathed it slowly.


Ren ducked his head as arrows rained down. They pierced through his scales more easily than he would have thought possible, but to him they were just a bunch of needles. Annoying surely, but he could ignore them easily enough. He just didn’t want any of them getting in his eyes. He then felt magic stir from inside the crystal he had latched himself onto. Thael’s voice boomed in his head, “Jump.” He released the crystal, and kicked against it, sending him away as it sent more pieces of shattered crystal down, and thundered to the ground, making it shake again. His clawed feet landed gracefully though.

Yet the cold slivers of energy still soared for him.

Thael guided him, following his voice to a place inside him that was complete, empowered, and infinite. The source. He pulled from that source inside himself and pushed it out. Flames erupted in the air in front of him, soaring from his own body much like the cold energy soared from the crystal. It burst out, meeting the magic in the air and filling this dark hole with light again. When the two magics touched, colliding into each other, the cold energy drew upon the energy of his fire. It held so much that it cancelled the cold magic out from ever reaching him.

That was when something fell on him. Something almost as large as himself, something cold and hard. It forced him to crouch when it struck, latching onto his back. Cold and hard tentacles thrashed at him from both sides. Each strike was hard and cold, stinging his unusually hot body with icy pain. Thael alerted him to a claw that would surely pierce through the back of his skull if he did not stop it in time. The dragon god’s voice and guidance filled him with a great calm despite being attacked so viciously now. He reached back with his clawed hand and grabbed the spear-like claw of the creature that threatened him so. His own claws dug into the thing’s limbs, piercing, cutting through above where the metal-like coating began on it. He pulled, attempting to tear the thing’s limb completely off its body.

He instinctively pulled at the source again. Flames erupted from his body, bathing the cold creature on his back with hot, burning flames; filling the darkness with light once more. Again Thael brought his attention to a dark shadow on the ground approaching them. “Child, do not fear. It cannot harm you for it is nothing but shadows." And Ren trusted and believed. So he paid no more attention to it.

The beast upon him continued to pummel him with cold unyielding blows, beating from all sides. His other clawed hand reached back, needing to pull this cold thing from off his back. His large claws sank into the thing’s shell, and grasping. He pulled, and yet it seemed to pull at him as well. At his scales, they yanked as he yanked on the thing. Ren growled deeply, determination burning him inside. He continued to pull at it hard. Pain sheared hotly through the skin of his back as he pulled it off. He felt as it tore scales from his back. The cave was filled with his enraged and pained roar, booming against the walls. He threw the thing over his head onto the ground, not all too surprised to find it was a larger version of a spider.

Rage and pain burned him with berserker tendencies. He still gripped the thing’s claw, so he pulled at it still, wishing to pull the spider closer to him again; his other claws lunged in, wanting to sink into the demon’s body again. His jaws opened wide for him to snap at it, wishing to tear it asunder with his teeth.

OoC: Sorry it took me so long to post, but here it is. I hope that was good enough for ya, Drammie.

I never thought I would be glad to feel that flame again. It came with great strength as the light suddenly left the man, seeping into me like water into a sponge. The heat of it filled the entirety of my chest, dispelling the ice that had been clinging on the inside of it. I could really breathe again, feeling the heat inflame my blood and seep into my weak limbs. The power extended even outside of my body, and I felt the familiar insect-like twitching on my back. From this, there emerged a warm orange light, illuminating the rocky terrain around me.

The demon had returned.

It took me a moment to fully realize this, and another more to see that the man had been affected negatively by the release of energy. Thinking only of his pain, I leaned forward to help, only to find that it was not needed. Instead, I paused, my arms halfway outstretched, and looked back at the crevice where the strange creature had attached itself to me.

“I know nothing of a healing elixir, but there was little I saw upon waking. There is a chain of leaves and a shirt, but also a terrible flat beast that is still somewhere within that crevice.” I then stood, glad to see that my strength had greatly increased. Whatever the man had done seemed to revive the dying energy within me, and I took new vigor from it. With the comforting heat of the flame returned to my body, I had courage enough to face the strange man before me with some degree of dignity. “But wherever you are going…I cannot follow. If my companions are still alive, I will do everything I can to save them. I thank you for helping me, but until that is done, there is little I can do for you.”

(OoC: Shrub, I'll put up a post for you tomorrow. This is all I could come up with tonight.)

BiC:

The apothecary continued to speak in Isaac's voice, "I can't hold it against you for wanting to help your friends, girl. If there's nothing I can do to stop you, then I can only wish you the best of luck." He walked past her slowly and began to pick up most of his things from the ground, but left his armor where it lay in the crevice. With a little searching, he found each thing - the shirt was the hardest for him to find.

He sighed heavily, frowning at what must have been a lost cause by now. While searching for his things, he glanced up at her. The expression on his face was pained, but he seemed to be holding himself back. "Just... before you go," he said, "tell me what you're going to do to help them. You can't see in the dark, any light you make past here will attract the attention of the drow and worse, and any dark elf in the mountain has at least than eighty more years of combat experience than you do. From here to the chamber we left them in, it's no less than four miles of mazes, traps, dark magic and a very angry spider goddess.

"I want to see them safe, too... but by the time we got there, there just isn't a way they would still be there. They'd have gotten out, and found another place to hide or plan their escape." He paused momentarily, picking up the chain of autumn leaves as he frowned at Leonna with an expression of genuine concern. "This far from the drow's corrupting presence, you must feel better than you have since you got here, but it's still back there. Your fire's a strong thing, but without your home plane to bolster your strength, I just don't think it will last you long enough to reach them... I'm sorry."