A Golden Ending (Part 1)
Log Info
- Title: A Golden Ending (Part 1)
- GM: Riptide/Rune
- Place: Border Ethereal
GAME: Ravenstongue casts Plane Shift. Caster Level: 19 DC: 25
The time has come to undo the threads of fate.
Cor'lana has gathered Rune, Harkashan, Telamon, Slixvah, and Aelwyn to the edges of Alexandria. Readying themselves for what might be, Cor'lana offers the group ground rules:
"Never stray from each other," she says. "If one of us is lost to the dream, we must remind each other it is a dream--it is not real. It will only hurt us if we let it."
She takes a deep breath. "And those of us who are fey-blooded and fey-touched... We must be extra-careful."
With that, she casts the spell. Spiriting away everyone to the realm of dreams...
...
...
... Or it should be.
When the group arrives, they find a pile of bones strewn about a mansion soaked in blood. There's so many people whose eyes are glassy, staring at the group hungrily. But there's a bloodcurdling laugh, one that several individuals recognize.
Cor'lana's paralyzed by it. Her violet eyes are trembling as a half-sil man is holding onto her, a hand curled possessively around her neck. His blue eyes are keen and bright, but the light never seems to reach them. "I told you that you'd come back, my lovely corpse-to-be," Karan'taara croons. "Don't worry. My pets will take care of your little friends." He stares meaningfully at Telamon.
GAME: Rune rolls will: (20)+12: 32 (CRITICAL SUCCESS) GAME: Slixvah rolls will: (17)+12: 29 GAME: Aelwyn rolls will: (13)+6: 19 GAME: Harkashan rolls Will: (7)+19: 26 GAME: Telamon rolls Will: (12)+23: 35 GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Will: (12)+20: 32 GAME: Telamon rolls Will: (17)+23: 40
"You will do nothing." The voice is calm, throbbing with cool restrained power. This is not Tel, the friendly diplomat, or Telamon the gentle magician. This is the Lord Archmage, Telamon Lupecyll-Atlon, and he is not playing around.
"You will do nothing, because you are nothing, Karan'taara." His voice rises and falls, as he regards the malevolent vision with disdain. "You are dead. Even here, your power is only based on what we grant to you, and we grant you nothing."
A sweep of his arm, leaving a trail of -- fireflies? Yes, fireflies are circling Telamon already here, sparks of light orbiting the sorcerer. "Begone, Karan'taara. And stay where you belong -- in my memories." His starry eyes flash with light.
For Rune, this is the calm before the storm. Those around her know her best, enough to see through the bravado that she has built up for herself going in to this, literal nightmare scenario. The rogue has her leathers, her swords, and most of all, her necklace lying against her chest. But her hands? Oh, her fingers tremble ever so slightly, quickly balled into fists as she nods her head and steps close.
The sudden shift of their surroundings has Rune taking a single step back to settle her weight on her feet, hands reaching back towards her weapons. Then, her eyes snap towards the familiar half-sil man. "Is there some kind of 'how to be creepy towards hot women' handbook that all of you assholes share?" She slides weapons out, looking between Karan'taara and Cor'lana. "I mean, at least come up with something original?" She pauses for a beat, "Maybe after this, we should drag you with us on that vacation and get some color on that pale skin of yours, 'lana. Then you might not attract quite so many of these scumbags."
She doesn't move to strike, but her ear does twitch towards Telamon before her blue eyes follow. Rune is sure he has this well in hand.
The Realm of Dreams.
Harkashan is absolutely dreading what is to come. Not from a point of fear, but from a place of love. Those who walk with them, and have walked with them for years now, being made to face nightmares. To reveal what lives within their hearts, their minds, their souls. Exposing parts of themselves that they would rather stay hidden, stay forgotten.
As the group arrives, Harkashan's hand is on Rune's shoulder, just as it had been. There's a twinge at the edge of his head, trying to look away for a moment, before turning his head forward. And before them, bones. Blood.
A being and a laugh he recalls as the one who still walks the Halls of the Death Singing Dragon. A momentary worry that the Plane Shift had gone wrong. That instead, they had moved into the Halls - where time runs in a worrying way.
But Telamon has his wits about him more readily, and Harkashan is quick to adjust his posture.
"You eva muck a spell where it backfires on ya, and it was meant ta be a mind muddle mojo?" Slix nervously babbles as they get ready to transport into the metaphysical realm of the beyond. "Just gotta focus on it ain' bein' real."
And then they're gone.
Talons squelch into bloody carpet, creaking and crunching of bone. Like a granite statue, Slix stiffens, and sloowly looks downwards. All the feathers on her press tight and make her smaller. "... g-good gods tha's fucked," she shudders, before whipping to the voice. And the sickly way he threatens everyone so. "... ew." Telamon calling this man out grounds her somewhat, even if she didn't know him, she offers a silent prayer to Vardama to make sure this horrid person gets to the right place.
Hell.
One had heard plenty of times of the planes - and one had very little interest in dimensional traipsing in them. "Tch, this one has spent most of one's life in the twilight of real and imagined, the dream and the reality, the desert and the mirage -" Aelwyn says with his usual courage. Which is to say, he takes the excuse to give Slixvah a hip bump. "Worry not, simply hold onto that what one knows to be true." He rumbles with a low thrumming hiss, tail wiggling.
The draconian may have looked and sounded confident - but he was nothing but. Going into the unknown? He clicks his teeth and shuffles - before his bared toes touch the floor. "Hnnhh, like that bloody mansion." He says in dismissive disgust - before he swings around at the voice, glaive already held at the figure. Suddenly, he freezes - but he relaxes as the others seem to recognize the thing.
The way the archmage commands the situation helped a bit as well.
The Dragoon looks at the other eyes eyeing them and moves pre-emptively; his black glaive dancing in his hands with practiced ease.
Cor'lana whimpers as Karan'taara has his fingers curled around her neck, but she is defiant. Just as before, when she's encountered the necromancer in her nightmares... She breaks herself of her bonds, but this time, in a metaphorical sense. Her eyes glow a little brighter as she hisses, "You're dead. You can't hurt me anymore. You can't hurt anyone anymore!"
Karan'taara--or the nightmarish version of him that haunts Cor'lana's nightmares--shudders and warps with Telamon's words. "No!" he howls. "No!"
His form disintegrates, but the dreamed-up glassy-eyed undead that surrounds the group are still quite present. One lunges for Rune--maybe identifying that she's the reason they're here, or maybe just not appreciating the comment she'd made about their former master--
Two blades come from nowhere. One, two, and the undead disintegrates. A white-haired woman, only two inches taller than Rune and Cor'lana and an inch shorter than Aelwyn, looks up with red eyes.
"Hi, Uncle Telamon," she says, softly. Her voice is a gentle thing. "I didn't expect you to be here."
The rest of the undead disintegrate around the group as the woman sheathes her twin shortswords. She wears furs and leathers that are typical of someone who lives off the land and in the wilds, but her pale, pale skin and red hair suggest something is quite different about her indeed. Her eyes settle on Cor'lana. "Hello, Wish-Mother," she offers. "And friends. You may call me Phea Ako Joaki."
Telamon starts to turn to confront the dreamspawned undead, but then they crumble, and his eyes land on the white haired woman. For a moment -- just a moment -- confusion. And then recognition, and suddenly he's no longer the archmage, but the warm hearted young man who has wandered so far, just trying to do the right thing.
"Phea," he says softly, and where he had only coldness for Karan'taara, now there is warmth. "It's been a while. But it's good to see you again. I hope your father is well." Telamon paces over to Lana, taking her hand, but he smiles at Phea. "You might say I'm meddling again, trying to help my friends."
Perhaps Rune had taken the bravado just a little too far. Even with her weapons drawn, she hadn't quite been prepared for the sudden lunge from the undead, causing her to flinch back. Just as someone else's weapons make short work of the creatures. She lifts her own weapons defensively, uncertain if this person is a friend or foe, at least at first.
Then... 'Uncle Telamon'? Rune blinks twice before she inclines her head, showing her thanks for the quick blade-work. "Is everyone related to you people strikingly attractive?" She shakes her head in amusement, "Thanks for the save."
It seems that the two favor similar weapon loadouts, so when Phea sheaths her weapons, Rune does the same, "I didn't know we'd be expecting friends in here..." She looks between Cor'lana and Telamon, "If... it's not rude to ask, Joaki as in Zalgiman Joaki?"
Slixvah stays near Aelwyn after his reassuring words. Her eyes widen as the creep warbles and vanishes in a scream, a grimace passing her visage as one hand presses against her head. Only for for there to be sudden movement!
A wavy dagger is in hand, wings spread out with feathers waving about. "Awh fu-" And then they're slain! A deep exhale leaves her, a hand over her heart. "Oh mamaw, gonna give me a heart attack," she pants, watching the exchange between Telamon, Rune, and this Phea fellow. "Plus one Ruru's observations," the egalrin quips.
Aelwyn's teeth are exposed and he was about to lunge - but he holds back, his instincts just in time as the undead start to crumble from the display of swordsmanship. He was getting ready for a different attack, before none come.
Straightening, he glances at Slixvah, then moves to put his hand on her shoulder. "One must breathe," He tells her, "Just a busy evening in TarRaCe." He flickers his tongue, before he turns to glance at the newcomer. The draconian offers a curious tilt of his head, but he does nothing more than lay his black glaive over his shoulder, the red ribbon flaring from the tip of it.
"Yes," Phea replies with a short nod to the questions that others offer. "Zalgiman is my father. I address Cor'lana as my Wish-Mother because it was her wish that made it possible for me to live. Telamon is, technically too, my Wish-Father... but I played with him and others of my wish-pack when I was a child."
She looks at Telamon with a small smile on her lips. "Your daughters say hi," she says, "and not to stop meddling."
Cor'lana looks confused and... a little emotionally overwhelmed for a moment, but she squeezes Telamon's hand. "So you... live in the realm of dreams?" she asks.
"In a sense," Phea replies. "Werewolves bear Caracoroth's blessing, and one of his domains is that of Nightmare. As a lycanthrope myself, born under a winter full moon... it is easy for me to travel nightmares." Here she looks off to the side as she admits, "I occasionally make sure that you and Uncle Telamon have good dreams. I chase off the bad ones. My wish-pack must be defended."
Here she looks at the group. "Would you like for me to help you through the realm of dreams?" she asks. "I don't know why you have come here in-person... But two of my wish-pack are with you. I must see you to safety."
Telamon seems slightly stunned, but recovers. "Yes," he says to Rune. "It's... kind of complicated. The sort of thing you really need to discuss over a good dinner and drinks. Suffice to say she's a friend, and I'm glad to have found her."
He squares his shoulders. "Phea, we seek a doorway here in the Dreamlands, one that will lead to the bride of the Golden Fate, as well as to Rune's mother. We need to free them both."
Tel offers a smile. "Our dreams have been less... frantic of late. If that's your doing, then I thank you."
Some aspects of magic will always escape Rune's understanding, so there is a slight tilt of her head at the concept of having wish-parents. "I have... so many questions." But, in agreement with Telamon, the rogue nods her head, "By the sounds of it, several rounds of drinks."
The offer of aid, gets a steely expression from Rune. "Telamon has the jist of it. We need to travel into my dreams to find the recurring nightmare where I re-live the last moments of my life." She explains further, "Somewhere, within that moment, there is a door that will lead to their prison. And I have the key."
A look of concern is passed over to Cor'lana, and a lingering confusion to Telamon. Perhaps it is mention of 'daughters' that has her puzzled. "So many questions..."
Slixvah leans into the hand on her shoulder, her taking a breath as instructed. "I'd take a busy evenin' in the TarRaCe ova' jump scares," she offers to him before listening to Phea's explanation.
It doesn't make any logical sense.
"Oh, tha' makes perfect sense," Slixvah lies, scratching her head with the edge of her knife. She glances to the party before shrugging after Telamon's explanation. "Eh, if you want to, I don't mind," she vaguely agrees before leaning over to Rune to mutter, "You an' me both, gurl."
Aelwyn attempts. He really attempts to decipher what was going on, but then he remembered something about things being real, and dreams. So he narrows his eyes, focuses on a spot somewhere. It didn't really seem to be helping any.
Slowly, he turns his head towards Slixvah and Rune and mouths, 'Open bar.' He points at the egalrin in a less than subtle way. "This... this makes less sense than this one's campfire stories." He breathes out, but gives his shoulders a shake. "So which direction shall Ivory's pretty hand lead?" He flashes his teeth at Phea.
Cor'lana looks a little bashful as she explains briefly, "Telamon and I have met our future children before in dreams. And Tel has met Zalgiman and Phea before, although... He told me she was pretty young. Either way, Rune and Telamon are telling you the truth of the matter." She looks at Phea with a smile. "I'm glad I finally got to meet you."
Phea nods gently, smiling a moment at Telamon and Cor'lana before she looks at Rune in particular. "I'll go with you then," she says softly.
She draws her shortswords again. The dreaming can be a treacherous place, and it doesn't hurt to be on guard. "Rune, was it? It's nice to meet a friend of my wish-pack." Then she offers Aelwyn a little smile. "That's a new one, 'Ivory'. My hands are prettier when covered in the blood of the hunt." She is, after all... a werewolf.
She looks at Rune again. "You should lead, as it will be your dreams we are going through, but I will stay by you to try and help the crossing."
With that, she prepares to disembark with the group.
"Ah, so the lie was not a lie." Harkashan decides, and nods his head. Feeling ever the slight bit less foolish for having bought werewolf gifts as a way to show appreciation for Ravenstongue offspring. He seems to be rather pleased with this idea of wish-children. "And they have grown up fast." As he prepares to move with Rune.
"Huh..." Is the only sound that comes from Rune as she tries to make sense of what children may exist within the realm of dreams. It isn't something she has ever thought about. She glances towards Slixvah, then lifts her shoulder in a small shrug and chuckles ever so softly.
A humor that lasts only until Phae's attention turns towards her. "Yes." She confirms her name, but the idea of trying to seek out the place of her own nightmares is a daunting one. "I... think I can find the place, but..." Her lips press together, and then she shakes her head. "Just... be careful. It's not a place I like to be, much less a place I'd wish on anyone else." With that, Rune steps forward as if leading the way, and the world abruptly jolts around them, dragging the others along with.
The Shattered Place
It is a jarring feeling to be pulled from one dreamscape to another. In the blink of an eye, their surroundings shift, revealing a vast expanse of arid soil that extends nearly as far as the eye can see. Just at the edge of the horizon, in all directions, there is misty evidence of mountains that seem to reach towards distant, snow-capped peaks.
The only thing that breaks up the monotony of this expanse is a single tree which stands incongruous with the surroundings. It has a set of winding trunks which extend out into a flat shape of leaves that offer the only shade in the surroundings. Beneath it, however, a large creature with white fur appears to be slumbering.
Though Rune had been there a moment before, she is now nowhere to be seen... One of them has to be the first to move. The moment that any single step forward is made, the ground beneath them splinters, shattering like glass beneath their feet. In each shard of the arid landscape, a nightmare scenario stares back at them from past, present, or potential future... each person drawn into their own horror.
Cor'lana:
Cor'lana finds herself suddenly standing amongst the trees of her grandfather's forest. At first, it may offer the comfort of familiarity, but then... it becomes obvious that something is off. The branches are barren, as if death has swept through this place. A flicker of light sweeps across the shadowed ground, revealing the bodies of fallen ravens, some decayed so far as to being mere skeletons of their former selves.
A haunting voice speaks from the shadows, "Did you truly think your little band of friends could destroy me?" His laugh is enough chill the blood as Legus'elain, the Corpse-Eater, steps forward, the moonlight glinting off of his features. "And now, this is the price. So many fallen. And what of your dear, sweet Grandfather." He mock-gasps.
Telamon:
Telamon opens his eyes to find himself just outside of his home in the city of Alexandria. And yet, something feels wrong. The streets are too dark, too silent. The moment he takes a single step, makes a sound of stepping into water, but it is not water beneath his feet. Instead, blood is splattered up onto his boots, draining from a pale body that lies just off the front path. Within that pool of blood a bloodless head, separated from a body that lies nearby. The dead, one-eyed stare of Dolan, his mouth parted as if his last words were caught on his lips.
The body, lying a short distance away, is twisted unnaturally. The scarred shoulder is barely held to the rest of the carcass by a few ligaments, the hand extended like a grotesque puppet, the fingers pointing towards another trail of blood, leading around the side of the house. A trail that is marked here and there by bloody white feathers...
Harkashan:
The humidity of the Am'shere jungles presses in on Harkashan, leaving him standing before the entrance to Wuja Docar. A breath draws in the scents and smells of home. The wind shifts, and something fetid catchs his nose, just at the same time that he notices the front gates are not only unattended, but they are open, showing signs of damage from tooth and claw.
Aelwyn:
The shifting of chains seems to draw Aelwyn's consciousness, the weight of heavy metal dragging down his wrists. The smell of unwashed bodies and sick assaults his nose. When he opens his eyes, he is in what appears to be a prison cart, the movement of the road jostling others who have been chained in various uncomfortable positions against the walls.
Among those, he can recognize the beaten form of Irshya, with cracked and dry skin, her breaths shallow as she has clearly been away from water for too long. Other faces are familiar, too, though many seem limp in their chains, heads bowed, bodies showing signs of knife or lash, the metallic tang of blood filling his nostrils. Slixvah, Harkshan, Rune are among them, as are others he has not seen in a long time. Is this what befell of them?
The cart bumps to a stop, then the door opens, the familiar form of Jacob standing silhouetted in the light coming from outside. "Well, look who's awake."
Slixvah:
Slixvah blinks to find herself back at the TarRaCe, in the middle of a shift tending the bar. Something doesn't quite feel right, though. Like the dark stain on the bar that she can't quite scrub clean no matter how hard she tries.
Looking up, however, she sees that much of the bar has been trashed. A group of miscreants that she has dealt with a time or two, seem to be all but running the place. The one who seems to be running the place is a drunk that had harassed some of the ladies of the bathhouse, only for Slixvah's shift of luck give him a very, very bad day.
However, he seems to be sitting on what seems like a throne, wearing a necklace that seems to be made of shark's teeth, no wait... goblin-shark teeth, with a few of her favorite patrons all serving him food and drink.
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Will: (10)+20: 30 GAME: Telamon rolls Will: (19)+23: 42
It's a blow not physical but mental, and one that rocks Telamon. Dolan had hung his sword up a while back; Tel had been pleased that his friend had found peace and love, and had privately decided Dolan's name would be added to his list of 'name suggestions for children and grandchildren'. So this? This is a horror.
But Telamon is not so easily cowed.
"No," he growls. "I am Telamon Lupecyll-Atlon. I have gone to the Hells to rescue a soul, I have stood before the Sky-Singer, I have died and lived again, and I have brought new life to grow in the seas of Ea. I will not be beaten down by horrid dreams and might-have-beens." His eyes flash. "I have not come this far to fall now."
Slix throws a thumbs up towards Aelwyn at the notion of an open bar. They'd certainly need it after this, and they've barely transverse through the Dream Realm. She gives Phea a side glance, and subtly takes a half step away. "Well, lead on, Ruru, we wit' you, honey."
The world rips around them. Slixvah's beak tenses. Wasn't the first time she's had her senses frayed, witchcraft is mindmelting stuff. But she rubs at her eyes and looks around. Mountains? Ah. Home. "So what we lookin' fo' Ruru? Ruru?" A look about. A large creature seen. The witch takes a step to the side to go around- and the ground gives. Cracks. Splinters.
Why won't this stain get out? Slix grunts with a rag in hand. A wave, some magic, still won't come out! She huffs and looks up. "Hey Rish! You got that gobbo-grade clean... er?" The words die out on her lips. Lips. She checks her hands, touches her face. Yep. Human. Eyes dart around as her heart pounds in her ears. And they settle on the man on the throne. Her throat bobs. "H-Hey! What'chu doin' up there!" she points out at him, eyes narrowing at the necklace. "And tell me what you done did wit' Rish 'fore I get close ta somethin' adjacent ta regicide!"
(Winter came...)
It's a familiar refrain in her head. How long has Cor'lana struggled with nightmares? How long has she dreamed of that winter evening, where she walked into the wilderness behind her mother's house in Rune with her knife and contemplated death? How long has she had nightmares of Karan'taara, who croons into her ears about how she would make a beautiful corpse? How long has she had nightmares of her beloved grandfather's loathed cousin, the Corpse-Eater, and his ambitions to reenact his fixation on making two halves of a pair murder each other on herself and Telamon? Or that her life is ruined by the Corpse-Eater, her world rent around her...
Just like this?
Tears stream down her eyes. She can't help it. So many dead birds. So many of those sweet little birds. This can't be happening. It's the mind's defense against that which disturbs and horrifies. If she disbelieves hard enough... It'll go away. It'll stop.
"No," Cor'lana whispers. "No." This time it's louder. "NO."
Her fists clench tighter. "No, no, no!" she bellows. As though her voice alone might break the Corpse-Eater before her. Was her voice ever truly enough? Her poetry, her words--any of it?
"Tch, now, Ivory has a way to go with red." The draconian replies to Phea with a flash of his teeth and flick of tail; before he nods at the egalrin and moves to stand by her, following in on the others' lead. It twists. Turns. the Dragoon struggles.
Then Aelwyn slowly blinks himself awake, trying to orient himself. What happened? He moves his hands slightly, but then feels the weight of the shackles; instead taking in the scene with confusion. "Sharkie...?" He mumbles as his eyes first see the goblin, then quiets as he looks on at the other figures. He wasn't familiar with the feeling of metal around his wrists, per say - but he was very familiar with what it represented. Which is why he didn't struggle or make much noise, almost as if by instinct.
Still, it didn't make sense. Did something happen- then his head turns and his orange eyes instantly focus on Jacob. Or attempt to, he could barely see. His heart leaped out from his chest."... Brother?" He calls out, then attempts to move towards him. "Quickly," He says, holding up his wrists. "Get us free, we must leave before the slavers return."
GAME: Harkashan rolls Will: (12)+19: 31
A single step. A shattering of glass, of reality. He grabs for Rune, but where Rune once was, there is already nothing. And the moment he lands...
A great Volcano. Certainly not the likes of the Great Dragonfather Mountain, but a sizable one non-the-less. Its wedge-shaped fork around the village stands out, as he begins to step forward. His steps are slow. "This isn't the right place..." He rumbles with a concerned frown on his face. His steps becoming more hesitant as that scent begins to touch his nose. A foul grimace soon settles in as he notices the lack of the great red one guarding the gates. No roars of Thunderlizards from within.
Only...
Tooth and Claw. Enough to make him freeze for a moment. Enough to make him forget, even just for a moment, this is but a dream. His tail lashing along the ground, fierce in nature.
But to step through this dream is the only way to come out the other end, so he moves forward, ready to encounter the dreadful sight of what he suspects...
Cor'lana:
"No! No. Noooo!" Legus'elain mimics her in response, each exclaimation sounding more dramatic. As if he were playing at being a sobbing child. "Aww, your tears are beautiful. They taste like the sweetest candy." A dark laugh bubbles up as he steps more fully into the light.
The wounds that the others had inflicted are gone, leaving him whole once more. "Did you think I didn't have a plan? A trick to fool those dim-witted idiots you call friends? Lie low. Wait until everyone has thought the darkness gone forever. Even your poor Grandfather didn't see it coming. It was all - too - easy."
One hand which had been hidden behind his back is drawn forward. Clutched within his hand is one pale raven, but not just any. Her raven. Pothy is clutched so hard around the neck that his feathers are askew. His wings flap against the hold, beak snapping as he tries to peck at the cold hand. "When this one is done, you will be all that's left. A broken, pathetic thing."
Telamon:
Though Telamon stands in opposition to all that he sees, the vision remains, regardless. The smell of blood and beyond it, something else, something with the charred scent of fire. A light flickers from the edge of the house, just beyond where that trail leads. It sends eerie shadows onto the grass that seem to move with a life of their own.
The heat is the next thing that follows, flames that catch upon the edges of the rooftop. Should he choose to follow, it becomes clear that this is not the only gift that has been laid for Telamon.
A pyre burns brightly, and tied within it are yet more familiar individuals. Two bodies, one distinctly Makari, the other humanoid, both charred beyond recognition. Their burnt meat still clinging to blackened bones.
A voice seems to come from everywhere and nowhere, familiar and haunting, "Do you like my gifts, sweetheart? I made them just for you."
Harkashan:
As Harkashan steps into the once vibrant city, what remains now feels like a tomb. There are bloody smears along the walls in places, doors torn off of hinges, and piles of bones surrounded by vicera that must have once been people, now torn into meaty bits, strewn like so much refuge in the wake of something powerful. Something... inevitable.
Then, with a creeking sound of rope, and a snapping of wood, something swings down from above and nearly collides with the Makari cleric. Though he might avoid the impact, the sight is what is truly gruesome.
Hanging from a rope, the bottom half of his body gone, dried entrails dangling from a long dead corpse, is the form of Inhelk. Someone had strung him up and something else... had made a meal of Harkashan's father.
Somewhere nearby, something has heard the sound. Something sniffs and grumbles, growling low.
Aelwyn:
"And why would I do that?" Jacob asks, his eyes narrowed upon Aelwyn. "This is exactly where you and your so-called 'friends' belong." There is ice in that voice, as if this were a punishment and Aelwyn was truly deserving of whatever his choices had brought to him.
"These... these are the people you left us for?" He motions to the various unconscious, wounded, or beaten bodies that lay in chains around him. Some are barely breathing. A couple stir, but only briefly. "This... when you had us? You had a family and you threw it away for them?"
He scoffs. "And you think I'm going to set you free? This is what you deserve for all the pain you brought us."
Slixvah:
At first, the man seems to ignore Slixvah as if she were little more than an annoying sound. However, at her threat, he looks over and quirks a feral smile. "Oh, now the little birdy wants to pretend she's hot shit? As if you didn't create all of this." His hand motions out to the state of the bathing house.
"Don't you remember, little songbird? That clever little bit of magic you did on me? Decided I needed to be taught a lesson." He narrows his eyes at her, "The problem is... when you fuck with fate, it has a way of coming back to haunt you. Gave me the power to take care of your little... friend." He thumbs the necklace.
"And made these ones have an even worse time than before you decided to meddle." He laughs. "And now you think you're going to threaten me? Anything you do will just make it worse for everyone you care about."
Telamon grits his teeth. "Illusion. It's a good one, I'll give you that." He stalks forward along the bloody trail, the pale light of distant stars blazing in his eyes. "But you are nothing more than nighttime fears and anxiety, a thin fog that vanishes in the light of day."
His expression grows harder. "But by the grace of Ni'essa Sky-Singer, I am the guardian of travelers at night. I am their protector, among many others." He twitches a little at the voice, but does not respond to it. "First, Lana..." He focuses, trying to reach through the bond, sensing that strange fuzziness.
Slixvah squints up at the man, fingernails dragging against the metal bar. "Wha' in Dana's natural beauty is you talkin' a... bout..." Her eyes widen as she takes in the scene. Shock parting her lips. "No no no, I's... it do, but I balances it! Give da bad ta shitty peoples like you for all the good folk I helps out!"
Was she right this whole time? Did she stay in one place for far too long? Was it time to move on? A place that'd she dare call another home. Was she the one that destroyed her real home--
The bartender clutches the side of her head. "Gah-- shut up! You're not real! Rishrish would kick ya ass even if luck was on ya side!" she shouts, pulling out a knife from under the bar. "Get bent!"
Like so many times, she pulls at the air with a free hand, exposing the threads of fate, and with a practiced twist, the strings get tied up. "And now--"
The recently brought in chandelier above her breaks from its fastenings, and crashes into Slixvah.
GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Perform/Oratory: (16)+36: 52 GAME: Ravenstongue casts Disintegrate. Caster Level: 19 DC: 25
He has Pothy. Her little brother. Cor'lana's tears ignite then. Rage floods her all over. She feels Vaire burning in her soul. So the words that spill out of her are words of sheer anger, like every syllable is bladed with cold iron daggers.
Fae will and fae whim are powerful things in dreams.
- "I will bind you and keep you in nine lines,
- Where each is a verse to maim and murder
- As iron chains cut deep like thornéd vines
- In your wretched form they cut and confine:
- You'll go where memory is a distant murmur
- And your soul is buried all the firmer
- Into the Hell-pits, by Maugrim's toil--
- Go there, unloved and unwanted coil,
- As now I unmake you now in lines nine!"
Her anger is a gift, her killing-words, her vow, her nine lines of death--they accompany a destructive unleashing of magic power. A magic she's used before to end the life of Marsward Seraquoix.
There's a link there... Marsward... Telamon? Where is Telamon? She reaches out for him.
Harkashan's steps slow once more as he gets into the walled town. Blood everywhere. The stench of death.
Something he recognize, stirring within. A creeping and squeezing at the pit of his stomach as it registers. All of this registers. "A true nightmare..." Harkashan whispers, keeping his wits about him. Not letting this nightmare get to him. But it all feels and smells so real.
There, hanging as if someone wanted to send a message, his egg-father. The absolutely enormous man... half-eaten. If it wasn't for the fact that he's seen such horrid sights many times over, he might have just sent a rainbow of vomit unto the ground.
Instead, his body stiffens and he staves off that cold sensation that rushes through his coldblooded body. The orange markings growing dull as his eyes turn to pinpricks for but a moment. A drooling huff coming from him at this sight.
He can hear the sounds of those who have eaten him...
His gaze quickly moving, trying to find them. Ready to defend himself.
GAME: Harkashan rolls Perception: (5)+18: 23
That ice-like voice was like whip itself for Aelwyn, and he barely holds back a flinch. Mind racing, he barely heard the words Jacob was saying - he was trying to reconcile what was happening, to understand. But. It made sense. How long was he out for all this to happen?
The distress in him was replaced by the chilling sensation of dread. "You do know I had to." He says, with a quiet, stuttering breath. It was an awful quiet feeling. "THEY SAVED YOUR LIFE!" He suddenly snaps and snarls, lunging forward. That quiet feeling of betrayal. "You don't discard a debt like that! Like-" He spits, straining against his chains. "You are better than that!"
And then Aelwyn slumps. "... surely you are better than that..."
Cor'lana:
Legus'elain might have tried to say more, but the power of Cor'lana's magic begins to cause the area around her to crackle with energy. A web of lines forms along the trees, pieces cracking to reveal the arid expanse and the light of day behind them. This dream cannot stand against magics like these.
So, just as he reaches to snap Pothy's neck, the blast hits the Corpse Eater, exploding him into shards and ripping through the vision and right through into yet another. There, for a moment, Cor'lana gets a glimpse of her burning house, the pyre that was her friends, and Telamon on the other side.
Their psychic connection snaps back into place and both are able to watch the two nightmares crumble like so much shattered glass.
Telamon:
"Always so certain of yourself." The voice responds. "Invoking her name does not take away all of the harm done by those you've failed to deal with. How many was it, that perished by my hand, sweetheart? Do you remember?"
Marsward raises a hand towards the pyre, causing it to dim somewhat, though the flames still lick over the roof. "How many more will die? You call for your beloved, but she is already in my domain. Beyond your reach." The man seems like a phantom, a shadow of his former self.
"So too are all of those children. The ones that might be. All of them lost to the nightmares, never to see the light of day." He seems about to say something else, but then it is as if the light of day has ripped right through him. It starts at his chest, and then starts to shatter outward, revealing another world through the cracks that start to web out from the impact of Cor'lana's spell.
Harkashan:
The shuffling sounds of Forgotten can be heard at the edges of the settlement. They are still at a distance, but they hear, they smell, they HUNGER.
That is when the shadows move not far from Harkashan. Stepping forth from them, a smaller Makari grabs for his wrist. Kyfe, but she is no Forgotten, at least not yet. There is something in her eyes that suggests she may not be far from it. In Draconic, she speaks in a hushed voice, "Your friends. They missed a vat. They're dead. All dead. I'm... dead." She growls and clutches at her own belly, as if trying to resist that hunger.
"Leave. Run." She snarls.
"Run."
Aelwyn:
"Saved my life?" Jacob scoffs, "From a fate that wouldn't have been mine if you had never left in the first place." The chains stop Aelwyn just a few inches from his brother, the teeth snapping in his face, the spittle falling against his cheeks.
"And who are you to judge me? The one who walked away from family? Did you even think to check on us? To see how we were doing? No. All of this is because you are a coward! Too caught up in your own stupid dreams to care about what is right there in front of you!" Jacob shouts.
"And we all payed the price for your self-absorption. And now your new friends get to feel that pain, too."
Slixvah:
The man watches from his massive chair, seeming to enjoy the sight of the Egalrin wrestling with the reach of her own powers. "Oh, you mean that dear little shark-woman?" He laughs again, wrapping one finger through the necklace and causing the teeth to jingle. "Did you know she sleeps at the bottom of the baths? Didn't take much to turn up the heat while she was snoozing and get us a whole lot of shark-fin soup. Delicious." He makes an unpleasant slurping sound and then licks his lips.
Of course, the sight of that chandelier crashing down simply has him laughing uproariously. "And there she goes again. When will you learn, little bird? The only kind of luck that you are, is bad luck."
The nightmare shatters, dissolves. Like the fog in the sunlight, as Lana's spell blows out the dream-palimpsest. Telamon looks around, his mind flashing to Lana's, and he offers her a smile. "Have I told you lately I love you?" Granted, he does tell her that regularly, but he likes to repeat it.
Staring at the cracks, he squints, then nods. "Alright. Lana, see if you can get Hark out. I'm going to help Slix." He winces, seeing Slixvah pinned under the chandelier. "Be right back." He pushes a hand against the crack, experimentally, and then...
Falling?
Well, not exactly. But suddenly there's a popping sound, and Slixvah's nightmare is suddenly graced by a well-dressed half-sil standing on the bar. Telamon takes in the surroundings, the thug with the tooth necklace, and his eyes narrow ominously. "Slixvah and Irshya are friends of mine. That is unfortunate. For you." He clenches his fist, glaring at the thug. "Pagta, zuh nam-kud, kilul!" The killing magic uncoils, intent on yanking the breath from the thug's lungs and strangling him.
GAME: Telamon casts Suffocation. Caster Level: 20 DC: 24
Cor'lana's eyes are wide and then leak with tears of joy as Telamon tells her that he loves her. "You have, but I'll never tire of it; I love you too," she tells him. It's true. They know each other down at the mental level, after all; there's no secrets kept between them.
Phea steps out from behind her. "I'll get Aelwyn," she tells Cor'lana.
Cor'lana nods, and she goes to peer into the ground, pushing in as Telamon does. Like him, she appears in Harkashan's nightmare. Except when she does, she puts a hand on his arm. "This is not real," she tells him. "None of this is real--"
Her eyes glow all the brighter as she says powerful magic words, attempting to free Harkashan from the nightmare. "I will free you."
GAME: Ravenstongue casts Freedom. Caster Level: 19 DC: 27
Several animated feathers rise up to the bartop. Some pick up the chandelier, and toss it to the side with a crash. They tense and flex, pulling up a bloodied egalrin, several shanks of glass sticking from her to dye the rest of her crimson. Slix leans to the side, but spiteful anger is shot towards the once misruley customer. She coughs, spitting red ichor. "No! No she, doesn't do that, she'd bite you ankles off before you- *cough*- got a chance to grab a ladle...!"
She bristles. Bloodied feathers floofing. "I KNOW I AM!" she shouts, slamming a fist into the counter. "I know wha' I signed up for! I know I'd be a fucked up walkin' charm! But all thi', you, it ain' it! I-I know I ain' th' fastest or th' strongest, bu'-"
And, Telamon's here? Oh shit, Telamon's here! Someone with some semblance of grounding gets her mind straightened out. "Oh hell am I glad you're here- hey! Fugly!" The knife twirls in her hand, before it rests on her own throat. "Hstu pu!"
It cuts. No line appears, there's no blood on her. But he can find no lungs to breathe from Telamon, and no voice to spill his vitriol.
GAME: Slixvah casts Steal Voice. Caster Level: 10 DC: 17
Phea chooses to go after Aelwyn, the man who keeps calling her 'Ivory'. Not that the lycanthrope woman minds, but it's an effortless thing for her to go through the ground and into the shard of nightmare that holds Aelwyn.
Her form shifts, taking on something that's between wolf and between woman. What stands in her place is a marginally taller werewolf, white-furred and red-eyed. She puts her clawed hand onto Aelwyn's shoulder. "This is a nightmare," she tells him. "Come away from this. Rune needs you. My wish-pack needs you." She's not exactly asking, either. Her claws effortlessly break the chains and she pulls him away.
Seeing Kyfe like this, strong, often one with the shadows, is hard on Harkashan. The serpentine thing grabbing at her tummy like that, she reminds him of what Rune might have been in another reality.
The words... 'they missed a vat' - that makes that coldness of his blood worse. He immediately understands what that means. And it's words that he's always dreaded. Because such words could mean utter devastation upon the whole of Am'shere.
Run, she asks of him. At which point he draws out his blade and offers it to her with a firm look in his eyes. Dream or not, this is what he would do. In reality, his blade is still at his hip. But here, she needs this blade more.
He then turns... hearing Ravenstongue's voice. And places his hand on her arm in turn. "I know... but she's still my egg-sister." He answers her warmly. "Thank you."
Aelwyn looks up - and his eyes are ablaze. His toes claw into the wood and he shoots up straight. "BECAUSE WITH YOU I WOULD NEVER BE FREE!" He snarls like a beast. "And now you hold the chains." He hisses, curling his fingers into fists in front of Jacob. It was near anger, near pleading motion.
Yet the draconian's visage was twisted into teeth and fire. "You were supposed to be better." A hand falls on his shoulder and he flinches, shying away from something that never comes - but then he glances aside. He takes in heavy breaths, steadies, takes in another deep breath.
Phea's dragging motion makes his body jerk along, as he looks at the corpses of those he knows, but then he suddenly stops and he glares at Jacob. "You are better than this." He rumbles underneath his breath, pointedly snapping his teeth. "You will prove her wrong."
And almost as if in parting, he makes a gesture with his hand, before turning away to follow Phea.
Harkashan/Cor'lana:
Just as Cor'lana appears in this nightmare vision of Harkashan's, so too, do the Forgotten. Horrific, twisted images of his family, or at least, some of them, come around the corner. Slathering, drooling maws snap and hazy, unaware eyes search, noses twitching as the band of Forgotten hunts fresh meat.
The hoard charges towards the two of them, clambering over one another, biting at each other, grasping for any source of 'food' in this empty place. A hunter that must be sated only by flesh. Kyfe cannot run, and she is all too quickly lost under the teeth and claws of her Forgotten kin, screaming in her final moments.
And then... the spell takes effect. The moment Harkashan's hand touches Cor'lana's and accepts that freedom, the world starts to shatter. There are phantom, mirror images of the Forgotten leaping, but they are trapped within the shards, falling away to return them to the plain.
Aelwyn/Phea:
It is Aelwyn's anger that begins to cause the dreamscape to tremble, but Phea's snapping of those changes is what makes the first cracks appear.
Jacob stares, this vision of him taking quick steps back away from Aelwyn, as if he were afraid of what he might do, now that he is free. However, all that he is left with is that gesture, and that stagement. Leaving the phantom of Aelwyn's brother behind in the nightmare.
Phea has experience in these dreams, so it is easy enough for her to find a weak point in the already cracked nightmare. Pushing through, it causes a cascade effect, the rest of the shards falling behind them as Aelwyn is pulled through back into the arid plain.
Slixvah/Telamon:
In a matter of a few seconds, a situation that had seemed cursed for Slixvah turns around, not only because of her own strength of will, but the strength of a friend arriving at just the right time.
"Urk." Is the last sound that the man has the ability to make, his hands going to his throat as he tries to claw at it in order to somehow draw in a breath. It is to no avail, no words, no breath, no final words to taunt the Egalrin.
Instead, he simply turns red, then purple, then slumps sideways onto his throne. From where his body lies, motionless, the world begins to crack and fall away, leaving the two, once more, on that arid plain.
Aftermath:
As, two by two, they return to the landscale of the Shattered Place, the group, at large, finds themselves together again, only they are now, far closer to that one, singular tree. The creature that was once curled beneath it, now stands on four massive clawed paws, an owl-like head swiveling in their direction.
An owl-bear, one that looks... remarkably like a certain stuffed toy that Skielstregar had gotten for Rune in order to protect her from nightmares. It seems... it has served its purpose. It whuffles at them, ruffling feathers and stomping clawed feet.
Then, from behind the creature, steps a vision that may be horribly familiar to some. Rune stands in her 'death' form, her skin pale, lips blue, blood dripping from her lips. One eye is completely ruined, destroyed flesh and blood all that remains of that side of her face. Where her heart should be, there is only a dark, gaping hole that goes all the way through her body, and yet, she still stands.
"You know... I probably should have warned you not to step on the shards." She speaks, her voice burbling a bit in an unsettling way. "The problem is... I don't remember my dreams. Sorry about that." She smirks from blood-stained teeth. "Welcome, to the Shattered Place."