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Beyond Saving

Three guards sat at a round table in the room just outside the small hallway that led to Dolly's cell. The other three cells serviced by this same hallway were empty, something of a testament to the quiet nature of the town. The post of a constable or guard was not particularly hazardous, with boredom being a greater challenge than fear. Between them they played a game of cards wagering meager sums of coppers to pass the time. "So what ya suppose the 'good' witch Elisa is doing conversing with our murderous wench?" The first guard asked, though with a certain lack of interest the betrayed it wasn't his real concern. He brushed a strand of long greasy hair from in front of his face as he looked to the others. "Who knows what witches think or talk about, burn 'em all far as I'm concerned." The second guard gave a toothless smile as he picked up his cards, not having the best poker face in the world, the other two became wary. The third guard, a fat balding man with a grizzled grey beard forming across his jowls, "She's got a nice little body though." His tone somewhat conspiratorial, as if he were about to suggest a plan that might liven up their evening.

"Which one?" The first guard asked, more about the emerging plan that the spoken statement, clearly he was more interested in the fledgling plan than the cards before him. "Both!" The third guard said with a laugh that made his jowls shake. "But I think we need to settle for the crazy one tonight, she burns in the morning no doubt, all them witnesses and poor old Hodges dyin' in agony like he did." The other two men nodded in agreement but the second still seemed worried. "You don' suppose she'll do to us what she did to ole' Hodges do ya?" His worry seemingly ahead of his desire at least for the moment, though looking to the others for moral support, they way cowards often did before setting upon those they perceived as weaker. "Nah, just keep that gag on her, least until we got something else ready to shove down her throat." More bouncing jowls accentuated the fat guard's loathsome desire. "We'll have our fun with the crazy bitch tonight that's fo' sure but I want that stuck up one as well, if not tonight soon. Let's give a listen to the door, see just what evil theys up to." The second guard joining the plan now as he tossed his cards down and stood to go towards the door. The second guard's instincts were right, but his timing was terrible, as they all flinched and cowered a moment at the sound of Elisa's magic. They knew they should enter the cell room and stop whatever was going on, but they were afraid of magic, a fear which fed their hatred towards those who used it.

**************************

Xavier had finished his pint and was tempted to begin another but he knew he had to face Dolly before his mind became clouded with alcohol. He had calmed himself down at least and was ready to question her more carefully. Not about her witchcraft, no one needed any more evidence than they already had to convict her of witchcraft. No he needed to know about his parents, if there was any possibility that what the mad woman said was true. Despite his loyalty to the Order, Xavier had always suspected deep down he was not the same as the others. He knew they felt that way too, given his skill and experience, he should be leading a Troop of knights into battles by now, not patrolling the frontier alone. He stood from the table and headed out back towards the prison such as it was. The sun was falling into the mountains to the west, the clear sky streaked with the last gold and orange rays of the day. He had barely turned to the direction of his destination when he heard, practically felt, a sound that he could only imagine was a thunderclap. Another look at the cloudless sky though made him realize it could only be, magic. His steady walk turned into a sprint as he ran towards the jail, almost positive that was the source.
 
Dolly laughed as her savior told the seemingly blind man off and how he would pretty much be a nuisance if her came along. The voice still called him 'champion'."You heard her Tom. If you want to join in on the fun.... maybe the Champion should be able to see." Even without the added help of nosey wandering souls and other ethereal beings talking to her, she knew that there had to be more to the blind peddler than meets the eye. A chill ghosted through Dolly's entire being. While Dolly could probably be categorized as a necromancer of sorts, she was enamored with the woman before her. How her soul wavered with power and worked the elements around her with astonishing power. Even the demons in her head were silent for a moment, and that was a rare treat.

There was clearly more to her new friend that met the eyes as well. No worries, they would have plenty of time to get to know one another. Still... she wished she could get ahold of Xavier. She knew his parents, after all. Well.... in the afterlife, she knew them. Their son may have been what tied their souls to the here and now. Perhaps if they spoke to Xavier they could get some semblance of peace. When the kind woman undid the bindings and freed the woman, Dolly looked at her pale scarred wrists with red imprints of the rope embedded in her flesh.

When the woman was close that Miss Beaumonte could smell her it took everything in her to keep her instincts from grabbing that colorful hair and seizing those lips until she couldn't breathe. "Easily." Dolly stretched her arms out to the sides before raising them up in the air, bending backward in her split form and flipped her malleable form backward for her hands to meet the floor and feet flipped backward to join the floor before she stood up on her own two feet in a flamboyant fashion. She laughed at something funny the voices in her mind said. "They say that you're the white witch to my black. Silly things say the oddest things sometimes." The jokester persona turned off at the flick of a switch to a serious demeanor as Dolly looked down at the ragdoll upon the floor. "Come, we have some hunting to do." The seemingly bipolar warm emitted a bit of a dark aura that sometimes acted as a magnet for danger. "Ready when you are. Dolly's the name and the mysterious, demonic, and dead are my game. And you are?"
 
“Bloody hell, woman!” Rob exploded, throwing a reflexive arm over his face to protect his vision from flying shards of glass. “I was just going to jimmy the thrice-damned lock, not announce a jailbreak to the entire town!” The redhead was ignoring him, choosing to speak with the witch - the other witch - as she sat and smirked and cackled in her cell. “But yeah, go ahead and untie her. Maybe you can do it with a bloody damn earthquake, just in case somebody didn’t notice?”

The crazy witch stretched limbs left numb from long restraint, twisting and contorting in ways that would have been far more distracting if he wasn’t busy watching out for the guards. “Ready when you are,” she snickered. “Dolly's the name and the mysterious, demonic, and dead are my game. And you are?"

“Name’s Rob,” he replied, dragging the bandage off his eyes. Probably have to see clearly enough, soon enough. “And... hsst!” A knife seemed to materialize in his hand as he stuffed the bandage away, and then he held a warning finger to his lips.

At the far end of the hall, the jail door opened. A balding, bearded man peered in, clutching an arbalest that shook along wuth his hands. His eyes went wide at what he saw, and he opened his mouth to call out.

Rob’s knife flashed as he threw it. The guard’s cry cut off in a gurgle, and he crashed to the floor with the handle protruding from his neck. “Come on!” he urged, drawing another knife from his sleeve and rushing the door. “Before they can get organized!”
 
Regardless of her ‘unstable’ personality, Elisa watched in amazement, the woman’s sensuality bursting through into the most vibrant picture of a beautiful soul. Her entire being moved with a purposeful clarity. Expression through movement was her genius, it seemed and watching her hone it was more breathtaking than the newly bloomed flowers of spring. A coy smile lingered about her curved lips. Hand over heart, she folded forward in a slight bow. “I’m Elisa Kautzer. Herbalist and scholar with a curious soul. Also, don’t call me that,” she grinned, knowing full well that a loose cannon like her, would undoubtedly let herself influence with such ease.

The man’s complaints had whistled by her during the theatrical display of flexibility. She stepped back into the hallway with a horrifying revelation before her very eyes. Her smile died then, faster than wisps of smoke dissipating after a snuffed candle flame's extinction.

The knife met flesh, soft and pudgy, like parting dough. It made an appalling squelch as the tip of the blade sank deep, followed by a short-lived cry, a guttural choke mixed with an agonized roar. The body convulsing and trembled to the floor like a rabid animal, thick blood flowing freely from the gaping gash in his neck. The cascade of the man’s life-source gushed out in all directions, scarlet liquid squirting left and right, the sweet tang of blood tinging the air.

A sorrowful scowl grew pronounced under tenting brows and a caustic ribble settled in the back of her throat then. Her vision blurred with each turbulent tidal wave of blood rushing through her coursing veins, fuelled by an overloaded, rapidly beating heart. At first, she swallowed her retort, white knuckles clenched painfully tight, teeth grit from an effort to remain silent, to ignore the life altering moment that had just passed. Her cloaked form exuded an animosity that was like acid; burning, slicing, potent. Her face reddened slightly with suppressed anger, veins pulsing on her forehead.

“What in the world!?” The bubble popped, “I bust a lifeless lock and suddenly you’re the master of who gets to live and die?!” Her temper was a slowly filling glass, a simmering pot. There was no problem, no outward sign of fury until the liquid boiled to the top, then all bets were off. If you were smart, you ran for cover. “You fool! You are NOT qualified to take another humans' life. Murder is a premeditated action, a clear decision to kill, and evidently, you lack the strict regimen that is so paramount, if one is to master the brutal arithmetic of combat!”

Her eyes had narrowed; rigid, cold, hard, the former softness replaced by an icy property. They harboured aggression and resentment in visible exertion, yet there was an undertone of anguish under the steely surface. From the ferocity of her vent, it seemed like this was her first time. Sure, death loomed everywhere, but most remained unpreventable and cut in stone, the way nature intended it, but this had been entirely avoidable.

“Not only deceitful, but also a mindless murderer… He was just doing his job, you bore.” A quivering hand dug into the endless pit of her bag. It vacated moments later with a large, multi-coloured mineral between its digits. She cracked the sharpened stone against hallway wall, the long, chromatic outlines oddly reminiscent of a doorframe. And indeed, it was. Upon the snap of her fingers, the very fabric of earthly elements faded within the border and allowed an unobstructed view to the other side. “Out, the both of you!” she barked, awaiting their compliance.
 
Once they had quieted down themselves, the guards heard the sound of multiple voices beyond the door. "She removed the gag!" The toothless guard said as word of warning. "Who knows what witchery they are brewing together, they both shall burn for this." He continued, the fat guard shushing him to be quiet as he picked up a weapon. All three were surprised by the thunderclap that echoed through the low stone structure, dust falling from the rafters as the building seemed to shake to its very foundation. Before the guards could decide what to do, the door between them and their prisoner burst open from the force of the magic. All three stood paralyzed for a moment, afraid to advance upon the powerful magic not fully contained by their simple prison. Any thought of putting a stop to the goings on within the cell were stopped as the fat guard, caught standing in sight was hit by a dagger and fell to the floor. The courage drained from the other two as quickly as the blood from their mortally wounded comrade.

*************

Xavier was able to reach his full stride as their were few passersby and they quickly pressed themselves against walls and wagons to make room for the tall knight running towards the sound of the unnatural thunder. He feared seeing the small stone jail laying in ruins but from the outside all appeared normal. He took a couple of full deep breaths to catch his wind then opened the door to the guard room. His eyes scanned the room, seeing two terrified guards, staring at a third whose life blood was flowing onto the rough hewn floor with a dagger sticking out of it. "The witch?" He asked, confused as he didn't think the crazy girl had that sort of malevolence within her. "Don't just stand there, help him." He was often frustrated with how little courage and initiative constables had, only suitable for bullying the mostly law abiding populace, unable to confront actual violence like this. The whole idea of someone fighting back was almost foreign to them. He looked at the table with cards and copper still scattered about, he quickly flipped it over at manhandled it into the doorway to block another dagger as he directed the others to pull the dying fat man out of harms way. There was only one way in or out of the cell room so he tended to the dying guard first. "Watch that door." He instructed the toothless guard as he bent down to try to stop the flow of blood. He was too late though, the bleeding had nearly stopped mostly because there just wasn't that much blood left in him.

Enraged at the senseless loss of life, Xavier stood, his blood boiling. He reached for his talisman, the simple cross worn around his neck as a sort of reassurance against the witch's magic, he had never had to test its proof against witchcraft before but kept his faith for the moment. Releasing the cross, he drew a short sword and grabbed a wooden chair for defense, cursing he didn't have his shield and knowing his great sword would be too confining in the blind hallway. At least he understood a defense against steel daggers more than witchcraft, puzzled the witch would use such methods. "There is only one way out, surrender yourself and you will get a fair trial." He shouted through the open door she was already almost certain to burn as a witch, but the offer was something almost automatic for him, a last appeal before violence was unleashed. Holding the chair before him and his sword trailing he stepped into the doorway. He saw not the single prisoner he expected but three individuals, none bound and the door open. "You!" He hissed as he saw Rob, no longer even pretending to be blind, holding another dagger. "You will hang for this." He scowled though his eyes stayed focused on the blade, hoping his improvised shield would be enough to keep him from another kill shot, and his chain mail would protect the rest of him. He knew he should stay focused on the blade but as he looked at the red headed beauty he had been following before this all began he was distracted a moment. "Why?" Was all he could think, wondering why she would help this demonic creature to escape, his words barely loud enough to reach her the question was as much as himself as to her.. He had his answer as he watched her conjure a doorway, an escape for the three of them, witches apparently stuck together. He started after them, bent on bring them to justice.
 
“What in the world!?” the redhead shouted. “I bust a lifeless lock and suddenly you’re the master of who gets to live and die?!”

“This is a jailbreak!” Rob shouted back, backpedaling as a makeshift barricade went up. “And you decided to announce it to the whole fucking world!”

“You fool!” she raged in response. “You are NOT qualified to take another humans' life. Murder is a premeditated action, a clear decision to kill, and evidently, you lack the strict regimen that is so paramount, if one is to master the brutal arithmetic of combat!”

“I... what?” Outrage warred with confusion as he struggled to parse that statement. “What the hell are you talking about?” Gods, what a judgemental bitch. “You decided to strike a thunderclap in here, warning every guard around that someone is escaping, and I’m the fool for killing the guard with the fucking crossbow? Does your ‘brutal arithmetic of combat’ account for...”

“There is only one way out,” bellowed a familiar voice.

“Fuck. Me,” Rob groaned

“Not only deceitful, but also a mindless murderer…” the redhead bitched, digging into her pouch. “He was just doing his job, you bore.”

“Surrender yourself and you will get a fair trial,” Xavier continued, then did a double take. “You.”

“Yeah, me!” Rob snapped back, hefting a dagger and watching the big man duck behind cover with a threat that he’d hang. “And look,” he snapped back at the redhead. “I had this hail break perfectly well handled until you stepped in and ducked Minoan six ways from Sunday!” There’d been no real plan, of course, but he wasn’t going to admit that. Not now. “If you hadn’t warned the whole fucking jail with your magic, fatty there wouldn’t have had to grab a cissbiw and he wouldn’t be dead now, so don’t you blame me for your fuck up!”

In response, the redhead did... something. And then there was a huge hole in the wall. “Out, the both of you!”

“Now that’s more like it!” Rob laughed, then grabbed Dilly by the arm. “C’mon, sister, let’s go!” Shoving the mad woman forward, he jumped through the hole and landed on the hard-packed dirt trail beyond. “That way!” he snapped, pointing towards the forest. “Come on, run!”
 
Dolly would sound like a broken record if she told the redhead that the voice said it and not here, but it was funny. This went fast and suddenly a dying man joined the party. Portly man was bleeding fast and all Dolly could do was watch with added interest. Between the angry redhead and the faux blind peddler yelling, she managed to take it all in along with listening to what the voices were saying. They were upset.

'Where the hell do you find such friends! That fat fuck was gonna rape you AND the redhead.' Another guttural voice joined in on the conversation within the confines of her mind. 'So we're not gonna get the show we were itching for! Damnit MAN!' Dolly rolled her eyes so hard that she was sure she almost saw into the back of her own skull. Some demons would have gotten a kick out of watching their host getting raped by three men. Just as Dolly was yawning and cracking her knuckles, a familiar voice caught her ears and to hear Rob's reaction had her bent over and laughing.

"Hey Xavier! Nice of you to jo - hey!" Apparently was not the time for idle conversation as she was yanked through the gateway and landed on both feet with the stench of greenery and fresh air hitting her in the face and making a stark contrast to the stench within the confines of the jail.

"If we're running away to have some dirty little fun, all ya gotta do is ask." Dolly teased as she ran in the indicated direction and even did a cartwheel or two. The ragdoll hitched a ride in the mesh hem of her fishnet stockings and the voices were, as always, chatting away. "You have a pretty good sense of direction for a blind man." Dolly's words were followed by a wicked laugh and held an 'I don't know who you think you're fooling with' type of vibe to them. "Come on Red! Don't be a slacker!" The mad woman's behavior would leave anyone to question whether she even acknowledged their fleeing of a crime scene or just flat out enjoying it all.

"If it makes anyone feel better... they were planning on raping me and Red. Apparently, you can seem rather overbearing and strict, Elisa." She spoke these words so nonchalantly. If the time had come where she would be raped well... you can't really rape the willing, so... yeah. There was a sturdy looking low handing branch ahead and Dolly just couldn't pass up the chance. With both hands overhead she snagged it and swung her body up and around only to land on top of the branch on her feet where she quickly jumped off. It was fun. Fun that she obviously shouldn't be having on the run, but Dolly loved having fun, even if it cost her, her life.
 
The doubt crawled below her skin, below her actions. She was amped up, with a clear escape swirling right in front of her, yet, there was no escape from her conscience. Her moral compass felt brutally battered, unamendable, all impending thoughts scrambling for the upper hand, battling one another to reign supreme. She caught a regretful insight to knight’s affair, locking eyes briefly. She felt the wind more keenly in hers; that tearless stage when they take on a sheen of water, a rising tension building behind them, an undeniable uncertainty winking through. Then she lept, knees bent and with a light thud.

The silhouetted dark shape of the rising moor appeared before her, rolling on for what seemed like miles, but in reality, the gap between the open field and the surrounding forest-lands and roads was barely existent. A touch of emerald light scathed the horizon in mesmerizing clusters, each donning their own unique variation of the hue. In the descending darkness, an unexpected scent reached her, of honey, heather, and gorse. The bushes seemed embroidered into the very landscape, their essence affluential and their varied colors blooming brightly. Under the smoky, bitter blue sky, something shifted and the entirety of the rolling hills was all of a sudden bathed in a whimsical silver. A glimpse of the cresting moon and of the stars seemed to lilt in and out of existence, shimmering. She was bewitched by it, intoxicated by the strange yearning that it brought her; with it came happiness of freedom, the romance of melancholy found within old classics, poems and music. Light, sedating, secure she felt for a moment. Then she pushed onward.

She picked up a steady pace, rivalling that of the murderous would-be associate. She continued her venting ramble, at first questioning Dolly, “How could you possibly know their intentions? I’ve had pleasant conversations with that man a multitude of times and he always treated me a gentleman’s grace. And you. Blaming someone else for the execution of your own actions? You dare not lecture me, you man-child,” though she had some childish ideas brewing herself. “Do you take a perverse pleasure in attaining positions of public trust and respect? You appear fragile on the street, but you’re obviously socially intelligent, deceiving and exploiting your everyday fellow man. You don't play by the same rule book as the rest of society and so you think you can win with ease. I had no intentions of getting you involved from the start, but… “

From a cavernous sleeve rolled another precious jewel, this one small, greenish, tightly compacted and jagged. The cruel machination tumbled to the ground in front of the man and sprang to life with a singular purpose. The gemstone shuddered, then splintered, billowing inwards, then outwards, condensing the soft soil into a crystalline bulk that would soon crust the man’s lower body if not adeptly avoided.

The noise reverberated, a grinding dryness churning beneath his feet as the dirt shifted and stiffened beneath him, forming large, magnificent formations, the grandeur of which was awe-inspiring. A crevice, a seal, it sprouted into a rosebud-like design, deep ruts ready to close around his legs, to submerge him waist deep with an unrelenting, flesh-twisting grip while the crystallization continued to spread and overtake nearby bushes; nature itself, a blank canvas for Elisa to exploit. It would be a not all-together comfortable experience, but relatively harmless regardless.

“… well, I say, if you’re able to commit the crime, you’re able to receive the judgement. No morals mean no restraints. There are hungry wolves with more control than you, but there’s one thing that separates you. Wolves don’t kill for sport, you filthy animal. He was cowering in his boots and you never even gave him a chance. You could just as easily have subdued or unarmed him!”

She turned to a backwards pitter-patter for a minute to observe the forming statuette behind her, to see how it played out. Then, she stumbled across the road, glared towards the effortless ballerina dance of the strange woman and continued forward.
 
“Spare me your moralizing, Red!” Rob snapped back. “I wasn’t the one that... what...”. Uncertain as to why, he felt the hairs on his neck prickle and stand on end as she produced an ugly greenish crystal from his sleeve. By reflex he jumped back as she threw it at his feet.

That paranoid reflex probably saved his life.

Jagged lumps of twisting crystal erupted from beneath his feet as the ground hardened and froze in an expanding circle. He twisted and kept, dodging frantically in an awkward parody of a dance as he struggled to evade the grasping jagged fingers that groped towards hm. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! He didn’t give voice to the profanities, though. That would have been a waste of air.

Worst of all, the moralizing bitch just wouldn’t shut up! Even lost to sight behind the emergent stones, she kept hectoring him. More crystal erupted beneath him, and this time he balanced on it long enough to leap and grab the thick limb of a towering oak, pulling himself up and away from the magical death trap exploding beneath him.

“I... fucking... hate... magic...” he gasped, clinging to the broad limb like a lifeline.

“Wolves don’t kill for sport, you filthy animal.” Fuck. She was still prattling on. “He was cowering in his boots and you never even gave him a chance. You could just as easily have subdued or unarmed him!”

Anger blazed up in him. “Right,” he growled through gritted teeth. “That is fucking enough.”

Forests were a long way from being his preferred environment, but he was steady and surefioted and had good balance from a lifetime of rooftop work. All of those skills were tested as he kept and swung from branch to branch through the trees, trying not to watch the grinding maelstrom of stone below. But then he was clear of it, with nothing but forest trail and the redhead below him.

Leaping from the closest tree, he tackled her from behind and rolled, letting her and his own twisting motion absorb the brunt of the impact It still hurt like hell, and he’d have bruises, but it was worth it to end up pinning her to the ground. “Ever tried to knock someone out?” he snapped, gripping her throat with his left hand and bringing his right up in a fist. “It ain’t fucking easy!”
 
Everything was spiraling out of control so wonderfully. It was hard to see being nestled in the prominent top position of Elisa's shopping bag that was full of her acquisitions from the market. But he could hear, and all the arguing and growing hostilities were so enticingly drawing him out of his drunken boredom. Fuck he was horny, but at least there was some action taking place. Then someone was accused of murder and he jumped onto his feet and started to stomp his hooves in an energetic feverous dance.

Leather hide drums were scooped up by his hairy hands as his stomping steps wove around the inside of the etched surface of his silver prison. Thick calloused palms pounded away, issuing a heavy tempo of chaotic rhythms as Disiyir spun about in wild circles. "Oh no!, who's dead? A fat man with a knife in his head!" His hooves clacked together and added another element to the symphony he was weaving. "Oh me, oh my! He done went and bled out dry!" Onward the self entertaining Korred spun his trampling rage fueling dance. "Uh oh, oh no! Here comes a knight and I'm sure he wants to fight!"

Then suddenly he couldn't hear the knight anymore as instead the sound of the wilderness rose up around him which brought a sudden pause from the pent up antics of Disiyir. His fingers began to tap lightly on the worn leather surface of the drums as he canted his head and tried to peer out of the bag. Oh, they were arguing again, the crook and the witch, and he could hear that delightful Dolly around somewhere. Things seemed to be escalating between those two and the curious fey creature cocked a brow at the explosion of magic unleashed by Elisa's hand.

Then it felt like his entire world was shook about like he was caught in the wild currents of a rapidly flowing river. As Elisa was tackled to the turf he came spilling out of the bag and rolled and bobbled across the forest floor until the silver goblet rested at Dolly's feet. He couldn't help but let out a long piercing wolf whistle as he appreciated the crazed ladies curvy figure from toes to head.

"Oh me, oh my, we could have fun with or without a boring old nun." He gave his lips a lick as his words fell on deaf ears while his eyes fell on her ample bosom.
 
As one by one the trio passed through the door, Xavier dropped the chair he was using for a shield and ran for the magical door. He was merely two steps behind but it may as well have been fifty as he plowed into the solid stone of the cell. His momentum causing a crushing impact that he would feel for several days. He grunted as the air pushed out of his chest and fell back onto the floor. "AAAHHHHggghhhhh" He roared with impotent rage as soon as breath came back to him. He stood slowly, clearly dazed from the impact and staggered back into the guard room. He followed red steps back to the source of the blood, his own footsteps having come through the gore during his pursuit. He tried to be more careful and respectful as he returned to the scene of the crime but it was difficult to avoid that much blood. "It twas the white witch with the red hair that let her free, I told them we shouldn' a trusted her, I told him." The toothless guard scolded his dead companion. "See what it got him trusting a witch." Xavier gave him a hard look which silenced him at least for the moment. "Go sound the alarm, we will need all of you to track them down and bring them to justice." Xavier could see from the looks in their eyes that they had little stomach for such a chase.

Shortly after the alarm was raised, more constables began to arrive. They were a motley looking group, most too old or too fat, if not both to be of much use. Xavier stood staring at the map on the wall as they gathered. Though reluctant, given large enough numbers he was able to convince them to give chase. "Unless she is a very powerful witch, her spell couldn't have taken them much more than a league from here." He told them, trying to imbue some of them with his own confidence. "There is a good chance they will make for the next town, you will give chase and if nothing else, warn the villages to be on the lookout for them." He instructed them, but as he looked at the map he thought there was only one place two run away witches with a murderous thief would go, the dark forest. None would follow him there, in fact he barely got them to head out at night along the established roads. He would need to travel to the dark forest alone. Sending the others on their way he was soon back at the stable, his horse already saddled and ready, he tossed a silver coin to the stable boy as he checked the quality of his work.

Xavier rode into the night, trusting his steed's vision as much as his own. He didn't need to follow the witches, if they were indeed going to the forest, there was only one destination that mattered, the cemetery. More of a mass grave than a proper civilized cemetery, it had once been the site of a great battle of good against evil. It was said many of the spirits still struggled in the immortal embrace of combat. Many brave warriors died there, as did much evil, and while it was centuries ago, the forest still seemed to reverberate with the clash of weapons. With any luck, on horseback he might even beat them there, he would need some luck and the element of surprise if he wasn't to become their next victim. He thought upon the legends regarding the creatures that lurked in the forest. The name eluded him but he dismissed it as simple superstition. He had never passed through this forest before, having no real reason to go there, but he followed what trail there was with as much speed as he dared. He kept feeling as if he was being watched, hunted almost and certainly his mount was becoming nervous as well. But the sturdy mare had been through many a fight and was well trained. He patted her for reassurance, sensing the animal's nervousness, wondering if maybe it had more sense than he at the moment.

He slowed the animal to a walk as he approached a clearing within the woods. While he could see little, he had an almost palpable sense that he had arrived at his destination. The cawing of a crow broke the murky silence, the horse snorting in anxiety, as if ready to bolt despite its training. He dismounted and tried to calm the beast to little avail. He pulled his weapons and his essentials from his tack, for the first time worried the animal might actually flee from him. He should hobble it, but he couldn't help but think it wouldn't be right to leave the creature defenseless in such a place. Quieting the beast by stroking its neck he heard the sound of running feet in the dark. "Wolves!" He hissed, understanding now the creatures fright, almost instinctive. Still he was not about to flee from wolves, he could keep a full pack at bay if need be, but he had other problems if the witches were about. He kept the horses lead in one hand and let his eyes adjust more fully to the dark. He searched the area for a space that would give him some hint of security and concealment. Finding a horseshoe shaped hedge of brambles he used it as a corral for the horse as he guarded the open end. As nice as a fire would be, he didn't want to give away his position, instead he knelt on one knee and waited, and listened. A lone howl pierced the night, then another. It was just his mind playing tricks on him, but it almost seemed as if they were communicating with each other.
 
"Oooooh, shiny, shiny." Dolly was enjoying the company and when the silver trinket fell to her feet, practically begging for her attention, there was no way that she could resist it. There was a nice coolness to the metal as she picked it up and held it in her hand. The arguing actually had her reminiscing about her family. It was nostalgic to Dolly, while it would have been sad and borderline scarring to any other sound minded person. Thankfully, that was not the case with the mad demon talker. As she eyed the shiny goblet as she spoke loudly. "Reeeeed. I hear voices. Voices of demons and lost souls. Most of the souls of the damned and lost can do nothing but wander, as do I. They see things. Hear things. The first dead man's wives said that his heart was rot with murder. Both women anchored to this world with black hearts craving vengeance. Could you blame them?"

She idly walked around the havoc as she continued to marvel at the detail. "Though monkey boy did jump the gun, it was no big loss. Have you any idea how many prisoners he's raped? And don't go making excuses for your 'act now, think later' attitude, blind man. It was pure dumb luck that he had a black soul. Question me all you want my dear, but if there's anything I am well versed it, it is sin." Another smile and eerie laugh later and she eyed a small stream. Upon tiptoes she walked to the smooth running stream scooped up the crystal clear fluid with added interest. "Calm down Red, and play nice. Do you two really have time to be flirting like this?" Up she sat and swirled her finger in the contents of the goblet. She hadn't had a refreshing drink in hours and this was really tempting.

"It might calm her heated nerves if you told her who you were. I could care less... I just wanted friends. They..." she pointed a finger to the temple of her head, " talk way too much. Misery does love company, after all." The cool metal met warm lips as the liquid travel down her throat and over and over....
 
The world collapsed through a surreal swirl of sensualities. Her heart's endless amniotic drumming through her brain and the merciless lightning scrawling through every nerve, knotting and fusing them into a closed cycle of purified agony, it consumed her sight in a psychedelic weave that had her eyes glassy, swiveling upwards for a half-second. Her teeth gritted and she quipped weakly, reeling from the concussion, air knocked temporarily from her lungs.

Her eyes narrowed, unyielding, cold, harsh and her tone ashened as she tumbled to the ground, smothered by the crisp bed of the road. In an instant, she found herself in an unrelenting vice-like grip, caught between fat, fumbling fingers with a daring club on the horizon. Her breathless lips pursed, complexion ghostly in comparison to their waxy-red plumpness.

Burning rage hissed through her body like deathly poison, screeching a demanded release in the form of unwanted violence. It was like a volcano erupting; fury sweeping off her like ferocious waves, her mind a surging perplexity. Her ears twitched in unison with his slur, a coy remark whispered, “I’ve got some notion… What ails you? You seem contemplative, Swine,” each word punctuated by a brief, exasperated pause. She exuded a powerful air of menace and frustration despite her precarious situation, silence ensuing in the wake of her mockery.

In her iris glowered teal, symbols, lines and dotted forms, like an awakening galaxy. Her lethal stare was almost painful, piercing, as if it was tearing at the seams of reality with their blinding light. There was a stubborn decisiveness in them, an unbendable will. As she stared down her assailant, a sliver of dazzling light flared in them, then, in the literal blink of an eye, they poured moonlight, the brightest of fires. In them, it was clear that she would fight to the very last tear for her life.

An icy pressure built in her chest, and a chilling current shot down her arms to tear from her fingertips in a lance of iridescent darkness. The glacial temperature consumed her flesh and veins on her neck cracked against the man’s palm like steel cables. A hand circled his twist, a cold burn beginning its imminent imprint on his body while her mouth erupted with an eerie column of freezing steam. It immediately set in as a biting numbness on the man’s face, eyebrows crisp and teeth juddering. A foreign pressure would settle deep within his mind, growing rapidly in intensity, pulling him into a mental tug-of-war with the mysterious vapors.

She took the scampering departure to regain her composure, clawing at her neck. Her lungs finally found the air they sought then, with trembling heave and an increase in temperatures, she recovered from the turn-about with naught but a few bruises to bear. “There are highly volatile chemicals in my bag. You’re lucky we’re not scattered to the wind …” she exclaimed in her oxygen hauling escapade.

She rose to quaking legs and clambered for several moments before finding stable ground, mind flustered and eyes unfocused. During the exchange, she had not even noticed the tumbling goblet, but somehow, Dolly’s words clung to her brain like glue, despite no recollection of hearing them. Shaking her head about, she declared to herself, “No more Childs play. It would seem that my emotional hurricane in full force today. I’m sorry you had to see that, Dolly.”
 
Disiyir spun and twirled about on his sharp blackened hooves as the cold waters of the stream surged into the hollowed out and dry core of the goblet. "Water, oh how splendid she's intended to make due with simple old you." His long wild beard swung about like a scarf as the maddened dance of his hooves pounded up clouds of dirty dust around him. "But that just won't do, oh no, so few options, I'll just have to say poo." As the silver chalice filled to the brim with the refreshing, cold, and crisp waters of the stream the icy chill of the beverage swept through the conductive metal.

Beads of moisture rose up like goosebumps across the etched goblet. They rolled in diminishing lines downward as Dolly brought the chilled vessel to her parched lips. The Korred within watched in awe as he was afforded the most wonderful view of her bundled together cleavage. "I dare say a Grig could get lost in there!" He tossed the drums aside like unwanted trash as his nimble hairy fingers swept up the pan pipes that swayed at his side. "So smooth and bare, not even a hair to climb out of that pleasant despair." He mused in a sing-song manner as the water poured down Dolly's throat and splashed wet cool relief across her body. "I'd gladly suffocate in there."

Immediately as the water merged into her body Disiyir could feel the surge in the otherwise dulled down world outside of his prison spring to vibrant life. Sounds were far more crisp and crystal clear. The temperature of the night air pushed away the sunlit illusion of his environment and replaced it with a star filled night. The connection to Dolly was clear now and Disiyir, his movements visible to her eyes only offered a sweeping bow towards her as the etching of his form gained motion.

Doubtful though that she saw the movement, but as she lowered the goblet from her lips the most peculiar of miracles would catch her eyes for certain. The meager amounts of water that clung to the interior of the smooth silver goblets basin puddled back to the center. Beads of cold water began to sweat into existence upon the inside of the chalices walls. Swiftly the profuse sweating of clean water spilled downward and joined the tiny pool of water grasped from the stream. The vessels contents began to rise up, a swirling vortex of a whirlpool spun about in the center. In the merest matter of a few seconds the goblet was full.

The soft sound of the pan pipes emerged from Disiyir's talented lips, weaving a delicate and relaxing melody that mirrored the babbling of the stream. Disiyir, his form and movements now more visible upon the upheld goblet winked towards Dolly while he played the pleasing melody as the swirling waters within the vessel settled into a calm state before Dolly's eyes.
 
Rob scrambled away from the witch, the icy burn in his left hand trying to pierce the icy fog in his mind. Around him skeletal trees clawed at an iron sky and clung heeedily to hardened frozen earth, and the sound of his hand and boots echoed weirdly among them. The witch rose, terrible and vast in her dark power, while nearby the other witch cackled and called to her swarm of shrieking familiar spirits.

It’s not real, his mind gibbered as he cowered back. It’s not real.

Correct, Umbra declared, lazily yawning as the black hunting cat perched on a branch.

So stop cowering, Halo sneered from beside the stream.

“Cowering?” Rob shouted, shaking a fist in Halo’s direction. “Fuck you, you...”. Color and warmth drained back into the world as spoke. “...overbearing housecat.”

“There are highly volatile chemicals in my bag.,” the witch grumbled, voice hoarse as she fingered the bruises on her throat. “You’re lucky we’re not scattered to the wind …”

Rob flexed his left hand, gritting his teeth against the pins-and-needles pain that stabbed through his palms and fingers. “Maybe,” he said, the bravado ringing false in his hollow voice, “you should learn to pack them better.” Bloody witches.

Trying to salvage his dignity, he squared his shoulders and ostentatiously turned his attention to Dolly - a display ruined by the fact that the red-haired witch was already talking to her. “Right. So, maybe be not as smooth a jailbreak as I might have hoped. Thanks to some people,” he added, pointedly ignoring the witch. “So, what else... Uhm...”. A pause, as he stared at the goblet. “No. You know what? I’m not going to ask. I’m not.”

Bloody witches.
 
As the night wore on, Xavier's mind pondered the map back on the wall, the distances and speeds he had traveled and his estimate of his quarry. It was of course possible they had fled in another direction, though his instincts told him otherwise. Even a hard march would not have them here for several more hours and he didn't exactly see that group as a hard marching sort. As he thought he began to make his small corral a bit more secure from the wild creatures of the forest. He weaved some of the fallen vines together and sharpened sticks to place into the ground across the opening he had hacked through the brambles. It wouldn't keep a determined attack at bay, but would at least slow down the odd wolf or two if they came at them from the darkness. A fire would be better, but that would make him too obvious to his quarry and they could easily avoid him. He then went to his frightened horse, soothing the animal with words and gentle stroking along it's head and neck. When he had it calmed enough he encouraged it to lay down on the soft bed of leaves within their small corral. He continued to pat the mare until he laid himself down, using the creatures neck as a back rest. He would risk a small amount of sleep, it was possible they would do the same before getting this far, and even he couldn't stay up all night then fight 2 witches and a thief in the morning. He trusted the nervous horse would stir and wake him if anything exceptional happened or if their perimeter was threatened.

As Xavier slept his dreams came, he had always had dark dreams from time to time, but lately they have become more frequent and more intense, more vivid. In his dream he hunted the same quarry, but now it was not to bring them to justice. He had much more wicked designs on the two witches, dark tendrils reached out for them as if they were his arms and hands but looked nothing like human hands. And the thief? No he wouldn't consider it with a male, but there she was screaming like the others, but somehow the thief was a girl. Not just any girl, but the dark haired beauty he had met and bedded then couldn't find again. In his waking hours he pined for her, thinking maybe she was the one even though she was drunk at the time. He thought he had loved her, but she was gone before he woke the next day. He searched for her the next time he was in town, but she was nowhere to be found. In his dream he would make her pay for rejecting him, but then he felt the world shifting beneath his feet. He woke to feel the horse startled and climbing to her feet, he gripped his sword reflexively then eyed the cross bow just within reach. He scanned immediate area for whatever had spooked the mare.
 
Emerging from the blinding thicket of the timber wood sauntered a canine mass of tangled limbs, its physique hardly discernible in the shadowy twilight of the night. Its charred black flesh and patches of greying, matted fur burned hot enough to send cinders floating skyward in a vortex of diabolical predatory menace. Rows of bony protrusions lined its bulging musculature, coal-fired eyes and gleaming obsidian dagger-teeth beaming brightly with dire intent.

It trotted forward, into the clearing of the graveyard, largely uninterested. Each charcoal-studded paw struck long lines of ash against the plush, heathen flesh of the ground. For such a large beast, it had moved with surprising stealth, leaving behind only a trail of large, crumbling flakes of gnarled flesh and its heinous odor. Staring with massive, compound, heavy-lidded eyes and a slack jaw brimming with pitchfork-pointed teeth, its facial features accentuated with a skeletal look, it clicked its mandibles. Its face prolonged in a beak-like fashion, forward teeth terrific, long as a man’s arm, its mouth a gaping abyss, remnants of its former victims splayed throughout.

It ghosted through the obstacles of the location, like a shimmering mist, diffusing in and out of existence. One moment, it was a hulking creature of unimaginable magnitudes, the next, an all-consuming blackness. It was nothing at all then, it cast no shadow, made no noise and gave off no odor, only a faint outline of its bulk remained imprinted on the canvas of the forest behind. The faint sound of dirt loosening became apparent as it navigated the maze of the graves. Under the veil of black, mist lingering, it began to emit a series of rumbles and clicks, the rustling noises seemingly coming from all directions. The darkness was its cradle, it preserved its decaying skin, brought purpose to its grotesque and contorted figure.

Flaring its molten nostrils, it dipped on its knotted haunches. It stooped its wrinkled, skinless face, the aura surrounding it enough to make any sane person piss their pants in a moment. Prey lingered nearby… The carriage-sized ribcage vibrated and it shifted back into reality. The crystal-cut eyes finally settled on a succulent horse, left foolishly unattended. A brief ruckus later, the mark found itself gorged upon, spear-teeth moving independently, clawing, crawling its was up the muscular body like a snake wrapping around its helpless victim. The entirety of the mare dissipated into the maw with slippery glurk, the beast’s neckline blown massively out of proportion as it passed down its system with an audible splash, the ground below, muddied, saturated deeply with the blood that the initial, heart-ripping killing blow had coursed. The abomination rumbled its contempt, then eyed the surroundings with its poor eyesight. The pilfering pillars of smoking coming off its body wrapped it in an intense heat, the scent of burning meat, pungent.
 
Dolly was enamored with the goblet and eyes that saw plenty, took in that much more. The music was a stark contrast to the darkness of her internal being. O had her wishing that there was a burning liquid coursing down her gullet, rather than the bland water. The world continued on around her but when Dolly's eyes beheld the sight of the dancing figure she smiled and laughed in delight. To any other looking, it was typical crazy Dolly fashion and little may even be questioned. "I'll hold on to this!" The girl cheered and danced in a circle with her newly acquired trinket of interest. Her new toy was tied to her waist so that the trio could continue on.

Moonlight pierced the thick canopy above. Eyes adjusted tot he night. It held a haunting peace that sent a comforting chill through Dolly's bones. Ever snack of a twig, rustling leaf, and hooting owl could be heard in the still of the night. A stale stench hung in the air and greeted flared nostrils. This felt like a place that the mad woman would be happy to explore. The voices in her head were abuzz about the feeling and what lingered ahead. The sound of a horse in the distance added to her senses and the fine hairs upon the demon girl's arms were on end for good reason. "Oh yes.... we have company... I smell it. SO much sin." The girl spoke as though every erogenous zone on her being had been ignited all at once!

"Alright, monkey, boy. Let's play." Dolly ran ahead with a chilling laugh and cartwheeled with ease to land upon a low hanging stone wall that bordered the cemetery. Dense fog littered the ground with ill tended to headstones peeking out from here and there. "Come, my precious.... come to momma..." Words whispered with a smile. "Just a hunch, guys, but I don't think a sword will do the trick on the beast that we seek." Purification, maybe? Perhaps Red has something up her sleeves. The sexy woman was chalk full of surprises since they first met. Dolly looked as though she fit in with the dark setting. Walking ever so casually through crumble stone, withered flowers, and the accompanied dead.
 
This was not the first horse Xavier had lost in service to the Order, but it was certainly the most terrifying lose he had experienced. For a moment he thought the forest was on fire, the smell of burnt flesh and ash was heavy in the air. The creature was something of a nightmare, Xavier had barely blinked the sleep from his eyes before they watered from the smoke and soot. He barely had his sword unsheathed before a hot shower of horse blood reined down upon him and the small area of the corral. The terror of the horse was mercifully cut short as the jaws enclosed and swallowed the poor beast. Xavier swung his blade with both hands over his head with all his might, intending to cut the throat of the creature open but as it swallowed the horse it once again became ethereal. The expected contact with the beast didn't occur and Xavier's balance was thrown forward, instead of fighting his momentum he let himself fall forward, he tucked and swerved, letting his momentum take him towards the ass end of the creature. He hoped that would be the less dangerous end of the hellish beast but the heat of the body was still palpable in the air.

Xavier braced himself for the creature to return to this world and turn on him, clearly on the defensive at this point. To make things worse he heard the approach of his quarry. The timing couldn't really be worse though perhaps they would find the creature a bigger threat than himself, though that wasn't really a consolation. He whispered a small prayer under his breath, there was no magical divine power but it steadied his nerves and helped him focus. One problem at a time he told himself, if he didn't deal with the beast the witches and their thief mattered little.
 
Elisa steeled herself, straightened her stand, poised and stoic for a moment, then she ventured forth, trailing behind the booming chatterbox of a woman. A slice of mellow harmony spawned amid the fragrant leaves; a river. It flowed like time, onward, toward its destiny, welcoming stray flora that came its way. One day the placid waters would enter a great ocean, each droplet a vital part to the mighty aquatic world.

Had it been under normal circumstances, she would have waded in, letting the welcoming kiss of coolness settle deep within her bones, watching the eddies swirl and disappear. But it was then that she realised, in the dense cover of darkness, that the water’s surface was livened by a charring, rust-brown tinge. Her eyes travelled downstream, caressing the dapples that bring the gunk of the water to a hue so sickening. She stifled a groan when the foulness struck her nostrils and her gut trembled at the sight. A river once a ribbon of living turquoise, boldly flowing amid the green of the forest, diminished to yet another otherworldly sewage roost. No matter the chatter of the trees, they had remained steady, refreshing, now, a festering wound on the forest, the ground barren and decaying.

Soon, a ghastly orange grin spread upon the forest horizon, tearing through the verdant woodland. Her paced quickened, her mind flustered with horrible revelations of the dying woodlands. She expected unfettered flames, devouring hungrily, licking and lapping at the coppice, twisting and swaying in a dance without rhythm. Blackened bodies, charred bones, unsettled souls, snatched before their time. Fire tainted the earth with grey, stripping the trees of the virescent beauty, leaving their gaunt, skeletal remains rooted to the barren soil. Instead, embers emanated strangely from an unholy abomination, their twisting journey to reach the sky like pallid, gnarled hands, a desperate try to latch onto the realm.

An avatar of the crawling chaos… a fearful thought reverberated through her shuddering skull, the reality-tearing, flaming pandemonium, the malice and violence it exuded twisting in visible vortexes of erratic sparks. The warrens had become a landfill of snout and hoof, gristle and bone - a mountainous, twitching mass of misshapen flesh, fusing itself together in the darkness, an incoherent jumble of organ, sinew and bone, all sizzling endlessly, the steam at superheated temperatures hot enough to scour the gravestones clean, burning the ground to a crisp.

The valiant knight was there too?! Elisa dipped to the nearest shelf of cobbled walls, the beat of her heart barely discernible. She peaked hesitantly through the poor craftsmanship of the wall, throat lodged with a tension unlike any other. The snorting half-corpsed creature stomped its hind legs instinctively at the insignificance pestering its backside, blindly drilling hundreds of pounds’ worth of weight into surrounding ground.
 
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At least temporarily, Xavier had the advantage of maneuverability as the half-corpse creature had nose ended into the small corral to devour the horse. It left him little room to turn around. As the creature became more material the knight felt the heat and could smell the very brambles that contained him beginning to smolder, he knew he couldn't stand close for long. He gripped his sword and swung again, this time a side swipe at the thick tendons of the right rear leg. He almost wished he had an axe as its leg was as thick as a tree, but the sword cut deep into the rotten flesh and skeletal frame. He injured the creature, that he knew but it was far from fatal. He could feel the hilt of his sword getting hot, almost too hot to hold, he would need to draw it out soon or leave it in the creature. He heaved back, nearly losing his balance as it broke free.
 
He was only following them, he told himsel, because hating off on his own at night in what was undoubtedly a haunted and certainly an unknown forest was, at best, suicidal. The two witches probably were safer. Marginally. The insufferable red-headed witch bitch, and the batshit crazy brunette witch, and the chattering little rag doll familiar. Probably safer. But he was ditching them both as soon as he figured out where he was.

The forest gave way to a ancient cemetary, fallen into neglect and ruin by the passage of years. Dolly cackled and raved about beasts and sin and the like, springing and tumbling like a delighted child around gravestones worn by the passage of years into blank stumps towards a campfire burning near the heart of the cemetary. Red - he still hadn’t found out the arrogant bitch’s name - followed with a haughty air.

For his part, Rob checked the smallsword hanging on his hip, the one he’d bundled up to pass as a blind man’s stick, and sighed. “Who would’ve crazy enough to camp here?” he wondered aloud. “Besides us, I mean?”

Then he saw it, although he both heard and smelled it first. The stink of ancient rot and the horrible liquid squelching and dripping of a vast bulk made his stomach churn, and the sight of the thing made him gag. A mass of cartoon filth larger than a horse, moving on an assemblage of skeletal and decaying limbs, lashed out at a dark-armored figure with claws of ribs and finger bones at the end of whips of intestine and sinew.

“A... a charnelwight,” he gasped, nearly vomiting as he discovered breathing through his mouth didn’t make the carrion reek a easier to stomach. Nor did the memory of what he’d read of such horrors settle his nerves. Sometimes, he decided, it was possible to be too well educated.

What had the book said? They were spirits of slaughter, given birth in mass graves and ancient battlefields, burning with the same heat as a compost heap. Swallowing, he regarded the knives he’d drawn unconsciously. What good would they be, against that thing?

And then he had an idea. A terrible idea, but it just might work.

“Hey!” he shouted, letting fly with a dagger that sank deep into viscous rotting meat. A dozen mismatched dead eyes peered at him. “Right here!” he shouted, waving his arms and putting another dagger into an eye that burst like a blister. “Follow me!”

It lumbered towards him, and he fell back. “That’s it, come get some!” This time, he threw a stick. “Think you’re hard? Come on!” The answering below shook the graveyard, and he horror exploded towards him as he spun on his heels and sprinted towards the river. “Drive it!” he shouted. “Make it follow me!”
 
The creature turned to pointed attention at the meagre assault. A knife to the eye meant nothing to it, the other dagger, even less so. Even the sharpened sword remained an insignificant factor. It turned on the spot, took a few thumbing steps, but rather than running, it froze. Its chest convulsed in spasmodic vibrations, its gut churned and a rising pressure pent up against the slaughterhouse of gnashing teeth. An all-consuming erupting of shadowy-distortions burst forth, glimpsed from the edge of the abyss, like a terrible lullaby, the resonating, squelching braying ebbed and flowed like waves on an uproared ocean. Unintelligible, unspoken words came to pass. Straining against the ceaseless wind, it was enough to trigger the cycle of a revelation. The thing had no name, for it needed no language. Nevertheless, glimpsing behind the veil, a crumb of cosmic truth revealed, light winked out… eternal night consumed the group of people in a psychedelic weave, embraced by the ineffable cosmic hideousness of a world unknown to man. The terrible truth wormed its way into their minds, a maddening aperture to realms beyond human comprehension, a gateless entrance to a world beyond time, beyond life...

Naïve folk believed nightmares a figment of their imagination, meaningless flashing images, devoid of reason or purpose. Anyone foolishly considering themselves an entity separate from the whole, blissfully ignorant; a belief put to the test during endless rashes of sleep-related incidents ravaging the surrounding lands. Some would wake up screaming, terrified and beyond consolation, frantically frothing. Some remained sleepless for days, slowly going mad until, finally, unconsciousness set in. Some simply beckoned out. All afflicted by a higher power formerly believed dormant, the hollow salt-cracked caverns sprawling beneath the ground, its roiling breeding ground.

There is a world of perfect harmony, where all are part of the whole. The essence of all creation, and its denizens are but singular pieces of it. It is horrific in its asymmetry, haunted by a complete lack of uncertainty. An overpowering tonic settled deep within the brain, capturing even the most stalwart; compelled to cringe in breathless fear. The abyss is made manifest! Everything is washed away, the ground below your feet cease to exist, the sky crumble and shatter into fine dust, the looming forest fade, complete blackout… a deathly stillness engulfing them, a foreign tension settling deep within. The walls closed in, the shadows whispering of conspiracy and maddening ramblings…

The creature was intelligent, perhaps greatly so, hinting at the sentient horror of the void from whence it came. The creature's blessings were as repulsive as they were robust. Images of twisted, half human monstrosities stalking the flesh-ridden halls, protecting their gestating god, flashed by in a cascade of unspeakable, brain-blasting realizations. Madness made flesh, it crawled steadily upwards from the pit of our world, supported by the foundation of cyclopean pillars. The ramshackle gathering found themselves perched on the very precipice of merciless oblivion, teetering on the brink, about to break. Suddenly, in the midst of a never-ending, star-freckled nightscape, the gallows looked mighty tempting, the plume of a pistol - a desirable outcome.

The darkness held dominion now, the sonorous wailing that the toil wrought upon the unfortunate adventurers, unheard, even by their own ears. Eternity passed, intensifying thirst blistered their throats, gnawing hunger, callous to the weakened mind. Their skin crumpled and folded, their hair withered away. Eyes sank deep in their molten sockets and within their rattling ribcages beat feeble hearts.

Twisted and maniacal - a slathering testament to the powers of corruption, the abhorrent glutton brought its taloned steak knives to bear with brutal authority. The decaying body followed troop as it strived forward, leaps and bounds covered in the effortless blink of an eye. Up close, it was a travesty - a blundering mountain of hatred and rage. Fleeting failure lingered so very close now, inching its way forward, blood-tinctured breath horrid. The mass came to an abrupt halt, monstrous teeth readily on display, barring the fact, that the people saw nothing at all anymore… it now stood mere inches away from the buzzing nuisance that had pilfered it with steel.
 
A fusion of cawing and howling sounded through the air of the fight. These sounds caused some of the mess of bones to rattle.

The scent... it was the scent of another monster? Whatever it reeked, it was not a whiff akin to a human. Perhaps it was another threat, ready to join its ally. Perhaps it was not.

Dark, umbral ropes tied upon the undead one, dragging it away from the ones it wished to snap its jaws at, inch by inch as time passed. If the adventurers were to look, they would notice the source of the umbral ropes - they emerged from a shadow, the distorted, altered shadow of a petite, stark naked girl that stood with a crow resting its talons on her finger. Her hazel-hued eyes simply stared at the sight. and from the looks of things, her bare figure, covered only by some patches of dirt and soil, moved not a single bit, even though her shadow, mallaeble as can be, danced with boundless energy.
 
The shiny etched goblet swung back and forth, to and fro, tossed about from Dolly's fractal patterned movements like it was in the midst of maelstrom. Disiyir spun himself into a series of cartwheels before plopping his hairy rear onto the ground with a thud. Something unsettling reverberated through his body, gave the frolicking fey creature reason to bring the pan pipes away from his lips.

Naturally, his bristly fingers swept up a nearby wine skin as he gazed about the darkened nightscape they were traversing through. "Something horridly creepy is in the air, a dreadful burning pit of rage fueled despair." The wild Korred shivered at the sensation before tilting his head back, dousing his open mouth with liquid courage in the form of purple wine that fell in equal parts down his throat and splashed across his chest.

His widened eyes cast their gaze cautiously about, then the shrieks and unearthly howls shook his very bones about. With the realization that a cemetery now surrounded them his eyes turned upwards towards Dolly. "Hey, maybe we should go away, and not come this way, even on a sunny day?" He clasped his hands together, his voice pleading for her to flee.
 
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