Free-Write: Everyone's Invited!

Well, I for one hope that more people decide to get involved here in the Arcane Arena, and so I'm going to try something. A place like this can be so much more fun if people just get involved, so let's try some free-writing! You remember it from high school, right?

So basically how this will work is I will start with a basic story. Then the next person can add to it and/or introduce their character(s) and just build upon it. It doesn't have to go in any particular direction or it can. We can have multiple story lines if we want. The main thing is just for us to write! It's much more fun if people are involved. So here we go!

EDIT: One thing that might help, too, is if you start off your post with the name of the character you are focusing on. If you're using more than one character, you can focus on both or just one at a time or even switch between them. It's up to you!

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Taifa

Taifa was sitting at the table alone, quietly listening to the sound of the wind in the trees and the faint hollers of kids playing a ways away. It was the kind just the kind of day off that she was looking for as that last week had been rather hectic. She and the others on her squad had been doing mostly manual labor, which was hard enough for normal people, but harder even for one who was blind.

She was enjoying her lunch of a couple of simple fish rolls soaked in soy sauce that her mother had prepared for her, while the sun gently warmed her back. She loved being close to the river, which seemed to block out much of the extra noises that she heard every day as well as provide a cooler atmosphere.

Not long after she had finished lunch, she heard footsteps walking down the path in her direction. Judging by the cadence and weight of the footfall, she had not met them before. They were obviously not trying to sneak up on her, so she was curious if they were simply coming to sit down or walk down to the river or what their plans were. As they approached, she gripped her staff which sported her village's symbol and called out, "Hello there."

Taifa

After a time, the man or woman passed by and walked across the bridge, having not said a word. That was rude, she thought, but then again, it wasn't always safe to talk to strangers. A soft breeze continued to blow through the trees.

Deep


"Might you direct me to the nearest tavern, inn, or otherwise known establishment as to what might possibly be serving strong drink at this time of day, lass? I seem to have discovered myself in a bit of a pickle, and I need to get good and drunk so I can think straight," Deep Blackwater doffed his hat as he spoke to the young lady.

He hoped he hadn't alarmed her, as he was pretty sure she hadn't heard him approach. He didn't much care for taking the beaten path, and so had approached from the opposite direction from the dirt trail. His quick eyes had assessed her sightless gaze, and the staff she held as if it were her most precious possession, and reached the obvious conclusion. Shame, for such a pretty lass. But right now he needed a drink like a ship needs the open sea, and wasn't going to dwell on things he couldn't control.

He had a hard enough time taking care of the things he could, like his legs, which kept wanting to buckle under him. He'd gotten too used to being at sea, and here he was with a small inland river the only water in sight. Curse that black witch and her 'treasure map'...

Taifa

You talk funny, was her first thought when she heard his voice, shortly followed by a feeling of surprise that she hadn't heard him approach. It was rare that someone could sneak up on her. Perhaps the grass is particularly soft, she reasoned, but didn't really believe it.

"Strong drink?" she asked the man. "I know of a few places you might visit in the village, but they might be a little difficult to find. They're not by the east gate, at least not the ones where you could expect to keep your purse."

"Would you be so kind as to direct me to such an establishment?" he replied.

She heard him walk closer to her. "Now? You sound a little unsteady already."

He sat down at the table across from Taifa. "I've been so long at sea that my legs are not easily adjusting to land again. I assure you that I am quite alright, though."

This surprised her. She had never been to the ocean before and had only heard about what it was like from a few of the older ninjas. Only 14, her young mind became filled with all sorts of questions about the sea and what it could possibly be like to be on a ship. However, the manners which had been engrained into her head got the better of her and she knew that asking a complete stranger a myriad of random questions may be just a little rude. Instead, she decided to lead him to a tavern, as per his request. If he wished to tell her of his adventures, that was his place to do so.

"I would be happy to take you there myself if you agree not to leave my side. Judging by the sound that you clothing makes, you will be spotted as a foreigner immediately. Some in our village are wary of outsiders."

"A hundred thanks, my dear lass!"

As she stood up, she held out her hand and stated, "My name is Taifa Ijara."

Deep

"Blast me manners, m'name's Blackwater. Deep Blackwater. Call me Deep, lass." With these words, Deep took Taifa's hand and raised it to his lips, placing a delicate kiss on it's soft back. The rough hair of his beard tickled the girl, and she giggled, then started off, pulling him along by the hand.

Deep could tell the girl wanted to ask him something,but her upbringing was holding her back. He would have none of that nonsense. "If you want to ask me something, lass, just come out with it. I don't bite. At least not lasses of your fair age..." He trailed off.

She hesitated but a second before bursting out with a rapid-fire series of questions. "What is it like, the sea? Are there a lot of ships? What is it like to be on a ship? Wh-"

Chuckling, Deep broke in, "One at a time, lass, one at a time!" After gathering his wits, he replied to her first question.

"The ocean is a place of magic, a place of wondrous good and horrific evil. There are gorgeous sunsets and terrible storms, all in the same day. It stretches for farther than the eye can see, an endless wavering expanse of blue, on a good day, and black, on the bad. I could spend a year's time telling you tales of the sea, lass, but I'd need more drink than any tavern can hold for that..."

By this time, they were growing close to the east gate, and Deep faded off into silence as they neared the great tall gates.

Boyleef

There was no-one here.

He could hear.. nothing.

It was like heaven.

The field stretched onwards ahead him at least half a mile, to where it suddenly dipped out of sight. The sky was a pale blue and beyond the dip he could vaguely see the outline of a structure of some sort.. life.

He shuddered briefly before continuing onwards towards the structure. He would not be able to engage in extermination immediately, he would keep his hatred at bay. He could also do with some new clothes.
As the silhouette came into focus he realised quite what it was. A large gate, standing at least 30 metres high, on the other side of that hill. Maybe it lead to people, or whatever creatures inhabited this place.

This was not Terra anymore. He would need to change faces. Gain these creatures trust...

His pupils narrowed in his grey eyes and he grinned.

Onwards..

Taifa

"The walls are 31.5 meters high and were constructed about 50 years ago just before the war ended between this village and the capital of the Land of Waves. The east gate here is dedicated to our leader, the High Daulo Visureth, and his efforts towards what eventually led to the treaty between our two lands. He was a great man, but was wounded and died after an attempted coup, which in turn led to the erection of these walls."

"Dear lass, you've quite a mouth on yeh."

She grinned. "I'm sorry, sir. I review information in my head as I walk, and sometimes I end up vocalizing it. I never want to forget what someone was kind enough to teach me, though. It would be a poor repayment for their effort."

She heard deep mumble a few words under his breath, but only clearly caught the word "strange" come out. She knew she was different; she had always known, so it did not affect her.

She walked through the open gates, listening to the wind to discover where the sentries were hiding, knowing that very few people would be able to find them without hightened senses such as hers. She could hear the wind as it blew past objects or people or even smell something out if the need arose. She could feel the air currents that told her if something was approaching, or analyze the tremors from within the earth. She still had trouble when it came to things such as water or shadows, but she did not work at a level where she would be in any great danger from either of those things.

So the two of them continued down the street. A couple of people that recognized her gave her their greetings, which she returned cordially, but never slowed her pace. Her carefully measured steps were one of the keys to her getting around as well as she did. Luckily the streets were not crowded with people today and she could more easily navigate the streets, stopping only twice to ask someone exactly where she was just for reference.

For some reason, Deep chose not to speak very much. He had been rather talkative before they entered through the gates, but now he hardly said a full sentence except at one point when he asked, "How much further is it?"

"Would you like a tavern with a room where you could spend the night, sir, or only a place to quench your thirst?"

"Well, whichever might be closer, that's the one I be lookin' for."

"Very well. It is not much further."

And in fact it wasn't. A few turns later, Taifa stopped and released Deep's hand, having held it more as a sign that he wasn't to be treated as a total stranger, and to show that he had her trust thusfar. She then bowed slightly and stated formally, "I bid you good day, sir."

Boyleef

He landed with an almost cat-like delicacy, his feet settling into the gently waving grass. Boyleef looked around, scanning the area. He was in what appeared to be some kind of clearing, on the other side of the hills. Ahead him lay a small table, and just down the path was a wooden bridge. Whereever this place was, he liked it so far.

To his left he could see the large gates he had noticed earlier. To his right led into a darkened woodland glade. As it was, although it pained him to admit it, he needed to find people. Gain their trust and work out the way of this land, and just where he was.
He began off towards the gate, his inner self at a relative state of balance. The wind was blowing almost unusually now, lifting his hair off his back and shoulders, sprawled into the sky like some kind of claw.
As he approached the gate the path seemed to widen, the thick bracken on the edges thinning out into a gentle grass. He could see now the full extent of the gate, it towered at least 15 times his height, its dark sides embroidered with some kind of text. He was certainly nearing civilisation of.. some sort.

Since the battle he had lost track of time awfully. As he remembered he had been upon the airship when they located him.. now he was there, in that firey place.. fighting his way through, he had to.. must.. do. Then where was he? Darkness, not even space. How long had he been there for? He had no idea.. but he felt no different.. it could have been seconds.. it could have been years. But he had escaped. Somehow, someway, he had done it. Some kind of.. glitch maybe.. in the system. Something had let him through. Maybe it had meant to be.. maybe there was some kind of greater purpose to all of this.. however he doubted it highly. There is no purpose great than that of my own. His pupils thinned.

He first felt it when he passed through the gate. Faint at first but rising steadily the further he walked. He increased his pace, his heart racing at this feeling he had so sourly missed. As he turned the corner towards the source he finally saw it.
There was a small village, people milling to and fro.. seemingly peaceful.. where was it coming from? There was a sudden burn in his heart and he lifted his head almost as a mannequin.

The tavern.. he could feel from here the anger brewing inside there..

His hand flashed to the hilt of the sword at his waist.
"No Zouo!" He muttered under his breath "Not yet!". His hand slowly drew away from the swords hilt, unmoving but giving off some sort of radiance.

"Now we must wait.."

Andras

"You shouldn't talk to yourself." Andras quipped as she slinked towards the newcomer who fondled his hilt. "They'll think you're insane."

She stayed out of striking range, her muscles tense and ready to fight or flee should this stranger advance in a menacing way. An impish grin danced across her boyish face.

"Of course, there's nothing wrong with insane so long as they don't catch you in the act."

Andras dared step closer, her grey eyes striving to catch a decent, deep glimpse into Boyleef's.

Taifa

Taifa bid the man Deep farewell and began to walk away. She didn't get very far, though, before something very odd happened, something that had never happened in a situation as benign as this. She hadn't seen anyone in danger, so there should have been no reason that she could not move. From past experience, she knew that next she would cease to have any control over her body and lose a portion of her memory to whatever force took over. After four years, she still didn't fully understand what was happening.

Being unable to do otherwise, she forced herself to relax and used all of her senses to try and figure out what was going on around her. She strained her hearing as far as it would go, hoping to be able to sense the danger that was activating this reaction. It all seemed quiet and peaceful in the village and nothing was indicating to her that anything was out of the ordinary.

After a time, she was able to regain control over her movements and what had seemed like several minutes had only been a single one. She flexed her hands and feet to re-adjust her senses before taking a moment to decide what her next move was going to be. She knew that she should probably return to her teacher, Anko, and inform her of what had just transpired, but at the same time she had the innate sense that Deep was somehow connected to it. She turned her hear to better hear inside of the pub and listened for the sound of the sailor's voice.

She heard him before long. He was already finished with his first glass and was ordering a second. Nothing in his voice hinted that he was in any distress, but she made up her mind to keep an eye on him, to see if anything came up.

"Excuse me, miss." Taifa turned to the voice. "Are you accompanied by an adult?"

"No, sir, I am not." She removed the headband from over her eyes and opened them, causing him to notice both that she was a ninja trainee and blind. "I am currently guarding one of your patrons and request a booth close to the man named Deep Blackwater. He just entered and is drinking his second pint."

He cleared his throat. There was something in her demeanor that caused others to trust her, something that the bartender did not overlook. He sighed and took her hand to lead her to a booth close to the sailor. She knew that Deep was too engaged to notice her, and once she sat down he asked, "Would you care for some water?"

"Thank you, sir, I would appreciate a glass."

When he brought it to her, she thanked him again. Taking two sips, she placed her hand on top of the glass, biding her time.

Meanwhile, Deep Blackwater was doing his level best to get resoundingly drunk. He could feel his head clearing more with every pint. He was on his third now, and he figured that by pint number five, he just might be able to do some real thinking. He always thought best when he had a bit of ale in him. This stuff was different from what he was used to; it had a sharper flavor and a bit more of an aftertaste. The girl with the pitcher had called the stuff nihon-something. He didn't much care what it was, so long as it was at least half alcohol. This was definitely that.

He finished off the last of his third tankard, and waved the serving girl over for a refill. He would have leered at the girl, but apparently they didn't believe in wearing anything but flowing robes in this place. Not an inch of skin showing anywhere but her face and hands. Couldn't a man enjoy an eyeful of womanflesh every now and again? Deep shook his head, and shifted his thoughts over to his present problem. It was time to figure this thing out. What was the last thing he remembered? That shimmery blue doorway, in the trunk of the tree...

He'd been marooned on a supposedly deserted island, again. He would have thought they'd have just shot him and been done with it, this time. Then, he was rather glad they hadn't. This one was bigger than the first, and the first night he'd been able to make a large fire on the beach, with driftwood. It was while he lay beside it, sleeping lightly, that he heard the chanting. At first he thought he was just hallucinating, hearing things, but after some ten minutes, he could still hear it. The sound drifted out from the jungle interior of the island; faint, but recognizable as human voices.

Never being the sort to hold back his curiosity, Deep had wondered into the jungle, following the sound for what seemed like hours. Eventually he came to the edge of a wide clearing in the thick trees, devoid of undergrowth. He stood there, in the shadows, and watched a sight never before seen by an outsider's eyes. It was like nothing he had ever seen, and he'd seen a lot. A group of thirty-three dark-skinned men danced in a loose circle around a smaller group of thirteen black-clad women, wearing reptilian animal skins and waving in the air bones from the same animal. The women, of the same dark-skinned nature as the men, gathered around a large cauldron over a fire pit.

Outside the circle of dancing men, perhaps fifty men and women sat on logs, stomping the hard dirt and beating large wood-and-skin drums, making a beat for the dancers to sway to. All the time, everyone chanted in time. The words made no sense to Deep; he had no idea if they even made sense to those chanting. He leaned against the bole of a thick tree just beyond the edge of the large clearing, and settled in to observe. He was not too involved to wonder how long it would be before someone spotted him, but at this point he didn't really care. Not like he'd be any worse off.

It wasn't long before the beat suddenly stopped, along with the chanting, and the dancers in the circle froze in mid-stomp. One of the women in the middle looked up from the cauldron, her voice raising in a wordless ululating call. Her eyes shone with a fiery glow that was more than just the reflection of the fire in the pit, and her posture was stiff. With one last ululation, her call ended. On either side of her, a black-robed woman reached into the cauldron with a dipper, and then turned to present the steaming broth to a dancer behind them. This was repeated by each of the women, until every man had had a deep drink. As each man drank, their eyes rolled back in their heads and they stiffened briefly before backing away to stand beside a drum-holding member of the outer circle.

By this time, Deep was beginning to wonder just what that liquid was, and if it was alcoholic. He had thought fleetingly about-

"O-machidō sama! Would you like more nihonshu?" It was the serving girl again. Shaken briefly from his reverie, Deep nodded and let her pour more of the drink into his tankard, topping it off again. As she turned to go, he shook his head to himself. He needed to think more.

Taifa

She sat there with her hand covering the rim of the glass. As she took in everything that was around her, she suddenly noticed that Deep Blackwater had left his glass of nihonshu on the table, merely gripped by his hand. Having already drunk three rounds at a staggering pace, she assumed that he would continue.

Removing her hand from the glass, she focused her attention on him. He didn't move, but she heard the faint noise that accompanied dry eyes blinking swiftly in addition to his increased breathing rate. He was thinking, hard. Either he was formulating some sort of plan, reasoning through a problem, or a memory had captivated his attention to make him lose touch with reality. Whatever it was, Mr. Blackwater had become a more notable character in her village, one who was not merely passing through.

I hope I don't have to forego a mission because of him, she thought.

Taifa

He made a move as if to get up, but he didn't. Something was holding him back.

He had reached his fifth tankard. The smell of the bar was making Taifa slightly uncomfortable, as the scent of alcohol and sweat grew moment by moment. More people had entered, but none of them seemed to be paying her any heed. She took two more sips and wondered when he would leave.

Boyleef

There was a loud thick grinding sound, like massive stones collapsing upon each other and darkness came.

He was in a dark room, sitting on a chair. He had been in a village, what was this devilry?


"What is the difference, My politically-charged friend, between your basic motives, and ours?"
The oddly familiar voice rang out through the cavernous corridors, dark and brooding, almost as if mirroring their inhabitant.
The shallow, cold reply came swiftly, almost before the first had finished.
"You and your so called 'council's interests differ greatly to mine, I assure you, messenger."
There was an awkward silence, broken only by the faint harpsichord echoing through the dark rooms.
"You are making a grave mistake, Lord Boyleef. If they haven't already heard, my masters shall be highly displeased at your display of arrogance"
Boyleef gave a long high laugh, his soft voice carresing through the dark unused furniture of the mansion.
"You call yourself intelligent, yet you cannot see what is before your very eyes, can you, messenger."
"What do you mean Boyleef?! If my masters hear of this.."



The silence returned to the halls, and the harpsichord came to a melancholy stop.

"Lord Boyleef.. you do not realise the power of what you are interefering with here"
"You doubt me. Don't you, Mr Roper. You doubt me as you doubt those you selected to destroy me."
Roper let out a stifled gasp as Boyleef turned his crystal ice eyes towards him, downing his glass of wine. He slowly stood from his large baroquian chair, showing his full height, he was at least a head above Roper.
He stared down into the mans eyes. Expecting a response from him.
A smile crept across Roper's features and he turned away from Boyleef, striding across the room, toward a bookcase drenched in flickering light from the fireplace.
"Boyleef! You have always amazed us with your.. determination, your sheer arrogance. But you forget one thing. In your constant efforts to further yourself and undermine us you do not seem to realise the reality of it all. I mean, please. You're a human. We are more than you could ever be. Ever, Boyleef." He grinned and faded into the wall. Boyleef grimaced and closed his eyes for a moment. He opened them once more; Roper was sitting in his chair, eyeing him up and down.
"You see, my good man, it is as the great king Midas felt he could challenge the Gods that you shall fail. We beings, are not of flesh and blood, as yourself, but of a far more.. say.. eternal nature." He grinned slyly at Boyleef, winking." I don't quite know what you plan to achieve by this little crusade of yours, and the communications we have witnessed between yourself and the less than savoury character Morningstar. Either way Boyleef, we do not like what you are doing, and as you well know, we hold power infinitely more than either of you. We offer you peace now, before the storm."
Boyleef took a deep breath and looked up once more at Roper.
"Your arrogance blinds you, I, true, am of flesh and blood. You, I admit, are not" He plunged his sword through Roper's exposed chest, which seemed unaffected. He resheathed his sword and Roper looked at him impatiently.
"But think of it this way, messenger. Your masters, as infinitely powerful as they may be, simply affect this world of mine. This world of matter, this world of physicality and mentality, this world of duelism, this world.. of flesh.. and blood. And so you see, esteemed Roper, you are in fact the weaker ones, if all you exist to do is influence this world of mine than in fact you are but an audience to the main event, the physical world. This world of mine. In fact," A devilish smile came to his face "I would say that you are reliant.. on.. me!" he laughed coldly "So I think that makes you the weak ones. It makes you the parasites. It makes you the SCUM."
Roper glared and opened his mouth, but Boyleef cut in once more.
"You idiots. You fools. Senile beings, it seems in your age you have forgotten what it is all about." He began advancing upon Roper "It isn't about power.. it isn't about your superiority to us, humans, it is about how you.. you are a pale reflection of us. Call yourselves what you will, eternal, gods, spirits, you are merely planets. Orbiting around the star of humanity. Mirrors to us, shadows of us. But predominantly Mr Roper, you are nothing to us." He shot a glare at Roper, who was hit by some unseen force, slamming him against the wall.
"Of course, this means that, ultimately, we have power over you. You reside solely within the shadow of humanity, and the way I see it, it isn't so hard just to.. step out of the light!" He cast his hand towards roper who burst aflame, screams from the glowing ball of light that seconids ago had been a perfectly convincing man, came almost in tune with the harpsichord, still playing.
A dark face came into shape within the light, glaring at Boyleef.
"How.. HOW?!" It's voice was distorted and deep, hardly recognisably human anymore.
"I'm not going to explain again Mr Roper. Now, as you have probably figured, I am more powerful than you could possibly be. This is because I realise that my humanity is what sustains you, and with the correct.. uh.. manipulation I can, so to speak, eliminate the shadow. I can proverbially step out of the light. I would advise your masters to not interfere with my further work with this petty race, although I am.. quite sure they are watching this as we speak. Their senile faces gasping as they realise what they have always known to be true; that they are nothing. A creation of humanity, a reflection. Sadly, Mr Roper. Esconced Roper. Correspondance. Sadly. This means neither I, nor indeed they, have any use for you."
Boyleef clenched his fist and the light that had been the eternal correspondance, snapped out and Boyleef relaxed in his chair.
"You know you're next, don't you" He whispered into his wine glass which seemed to almost shimmer for a moment before coming to rest.



More blackness.

More. More...



A blinding light. Once more he was in the village, the voices had dissapeared and the sunlight poured in through his slit-opened eyes.

"Are you alright?" The sound of a young voice came from above him. It was only now he realised he was lying on the floor, slumped next to a small house.

A small boy was kneeling, looking at him.

"Are you alright?"

Sin-Koon

Sin-Koon spat. Warm blood caught on his teeth, and he choked briefly.
Grabbing a handful of his jacket, he wiped the bright red stains from his chin. It stained the vibrant blue of his jacket and dried, slowly, as he swore and checked his jaw.
He had had better landings.
He pushed himself daintly to his feet, and shook his head. Time to concentrate. Time to plan.
I need a new jacket, he noted. That was one. He didn't know where he was. That was two. Three...he would make up as he went along. Things usually turned up.
With a sigh, he picked up his sabre and slid it into his belt. The unfamiliar green grass had left streaks across his face, over his hands. He wiped them on the jacket, wincing inwardly at the act.
One was now a priority. Find a jacket. A clean one.

It was time to visit the locals.

Boyleef


It was night at last. The stable was warm and homely; but Boyleef didn't sleep. He couldn't sleep. He just needed to rest.
He got up, looking towards the large door. There was a small cow nursing it's young nearby him, he gazed at it in bemusement.

The door swung open and Boyleef strode out into the square. A man walked by, pushing Boyleef out of his way, stinking of rum.
"Excuse me?" Boyleef called, his eyes darkening. The man turned around, and spat at him, before yelling towards the crowded tavern loudly.
It was almost as if the wind itself took hold of Zouo as it sliced through the air, leaving a red trail as the mans head plummeted to the ground. His body stood still for a moment before falling to its knees and crumpling.

There was a moment of silence as Boyleef stood over the corpse, his hair blowing lightly in the wind, blood sliding down his sword.



The door of the bar opened and a large man walked out. Behind him at least 15 more piled out, holding clubs and swords a piece.

Boyleef grimaced and connected to Zouo..

The man stopped and looked around him. After carefully scrutinising the horizon in every direction he sat down. He grimaced as he removed the large leather hiking boots he had been wearing, and massaged his aching feet.

The man was old, at least sixty or seventy judging by the long lines of hardship on his face. He had silver grey hair tied back in an impressive ponytail that dangled from beneath the nondescript brown floppy hat that he wore. On his back he carried a large leather rucksack, and he wore light walking gear, all cotton and loosely woven fabric.

He sighed as he watched the sun disappear over the horizon, and after replacing the boots, he slowly forced himself back onto his feet with the help of a long hardwood staff, and trudged slowly on. How far had he come today, he wondered? A few hours walk before sunrise... a long boat trip in the company of those vulgar boatmen... now at least another 6 leagues since mid afternoon. It was a long way, but it wasn't far enough.

He would not have shaken them off with this much. He would have to stop soon though, or he would collapse. Somewhere where they don't ask questions, he thought. Somewhere where they wouldn't even think to inquire about the short man with the wooden staff. Somewhere with good beer, came as an afterthought in Truin's mind as he plodded along the lonely road.

He did not know this part of the world at all. They had probably never heard of the Red Dragon around here, he thought. He reflected bitterly upon what he had been reduced to, but after a few more minutes his mood improved considerably when he spotted some smoke on the horizon. It had to be some kind of establishment, thought Truin. Sure enough, there was a small inn, rather a shoddy place, but perfect for Truin. The people here would not look too closely. They would not be able to describe him when asked to.

He composed himself, and shambled in, the very picture of an elderly man down on his luck. He addressed who was obviously the person in charge, a large local lady in the process of talking to a young pretty serving girl bedecked in long robes. "But he's already half way through his fifth mother, are you sure it's ok to-"
"Just give it to him child!" said the landlady. "Sea-men can always hold their alcohol. Now", she said, turning to Truin "what can I do for you sir?" her tone was not overly friendly. She obviously suspected that Truin had no gold. Which, thought Truin, was quite fair.

"I would like a room for the night, Madame." he replied in a frail, weak voice. "Somewhere with a window preferably... I do love to see the sun rise." he had already scouted around the ale-house, and the only windows looked towards the South and the West. Yes, he would definitely be able to see them coming.

"Well then, the rooms are 14 silver a night, gold up front if you don't mind."
"Not at all", Truin croaked, handing over a handful of grubby silver.
The landlady peered suspiciously at them for a minute, and then motioned to a small weedy man to show Truin to his room.

"In here sir, if you please", said the weedy man at the end of a corridor on the second floor.
"Thank you", said Truin. "Oh yes, one more thing... would you happen to know where I might find a horse around here?
"No sir, I'm sorry, the nearest would be Krole, about 5 and a half leagues away."
That was not good, thought Truin. He had come from the same town that very day, but had not had time to stop to look around.
"Thank you sir, I will head that way tomorrow."

Once he was alone, he locked the door and threw himself on the bed. He would need this rest, he knew it.

Off topic. I love this.

Taifa



He had just finished his fifth tankardand had continued to remain absolutely still, except to raise his glass or ask for a refill. Something was troubling him, deeply, and she couldn't help but wonder what it was. She was sorely tempted to get up and ask him. She even moved towards the edge of her seat, wondering if she was doing the right thing by waiting there. It was not the ideal way to spend her day off, especially as she could have used the last several hours of the day training.

The only thing that somewhat distracted her from her potential regrets was the entrance of another man who was obviously a foreigner. The occupants of the bar were becoming more and more inebriated, judging by the harsh increase in the smell of alcohol, so it was likely that only she, the owner, and the serving girl had really remarked his entrance. He asked for a room and the owner, almost begrudgingly, gave him a key and sent him upstairs. Having not ordered a drink or argued about the fare, Taifa figured that he was keen on maintaining a low profile.

...

No one else had heard the scream, but even in this crowded area it rang clear in her ears. It surprised her that she had even heard it, knowing that it came from at least three miles away, close to the city's southern entrance. The sound came from a woman filled with abject terror, an emotion she couldn't bear to hear in another's voice.

Curious if this unknown threat had something to do with Mr. Blackwater's sudden appearance, she focused her attention on him. When she met him, he had not appeared agitated or gave any sign that he was being followed or was in any danger. He didn't even sound like he knew why he was there. He never did say exactly where he was from.

There was a second scream following this one, this one more drawn out, and filled with anguish as well as terror; the sound of loss.

No, Deep didn't have anything to do with this... and that being the case, as he was a complete stranger, he was at risk of being harmed at the hand of this new assailant. She would not let him be harmed...

... Then she gasped, knowing that those were not her thoughts. Her hearing was good, but to hear even a scream at three miles in a crowded, building-laden city, that was beyond her capabilities. She also recognized that overwhelming desire to protect. Logically, she should still be suspicious of him, having met him only that afternoon. That brought on another question.

"What time is it?" she asked the air.

"It's just after sundown," someone replied, "little lady." The man who had spoken then laughed drunkenly in a manner most distasteful to her. At that sound, she decided that she had had enough and was going to return home. She stood up and left a silver coin on the table....

... Now a man screamed in agony; not over a loss of someone else, but from extreme physical suffering. As soon as she heard that, she began to lose consciousness. Her hearing became muffled, she began to lose some of her other senses, and she could no longer think, moving closer to an abyss of silence. She tried to fight it. She felt herself move and tried to overcome whatever had control of her, but it seemed useless.

A few minutes later, she suddenly had all of her senses back. She found herself laying on the ground, barely able to move, her chakra energy half of what it had been earlier that day. She felt as if she'd just run for miles, judging by how stiff her legs were, and her right hand was beginning to cramp up from... holding... someone's... shirt. She was still holding it, and there was someone still in it. Breathing in, she smelled a man with a strong odor of alcohol.

Realizing who it was, she immediately let go of the shirt and turned away from him. Covering her head in her hands, she thought, Mr. Blackwater... what did I just do?



---------------------------
Note: see character profile for more information on the Guardian Angel. It's sole purpose is to protect, be it by battling an enemy (with a sword of light) or taking the person away. GA can see and has dark blue eyes. Taifa still has no idea what goes on when GA takes over.

Off-topic, this IS fun.

Sin-Koon

Jacket, Sin-Koon thought. That was one.
He watched as the people scurried about their business. Dried mud clung to their rags in thick layers, in some places peeling to reveal older mud beneath. What colour their thread-bare clothes had been originally Sin-Koon couldn't guess. He paused to watch an elderly woman wrestling a pig to the ground, scrabbling in the filth of the town gutter.
Country life, Sin-Koon smiled. He walked on, treading nimbly around the more fresh produce that littered the cobbled street. The smile remained fixed in place as he jumped a puddle of what he hoped was muddy water.
Not the best place for a jacket, he considered. Besides, bloody stains over a dashing debonair jacket say a lot about a man. Noted, it was his blood, and had come from breaking a tooth (which he thoroughly regretted), but your casual observer needn't notice that.
A man leered at him as he turned into an alleyway. It was dark, shaded by the tall wooden houses either side, away from the bustle of the town-market.
The man watched Sin-Koon, and stepped forward.

Sin-Koon. He had an affable look to him, and seemed almost foppish in his demeanour, dark curls tumbling down his head and a roguish beard that made him look almost piratical, which in a sense he was.
It surprised the footpad when the sabre came spinning through the air.
"Always use weapons you can throw." Sin-Koon grinned. The footpad groaned, staring wildly down at his chest. The thin sabre ran right through it, pinning him to the wooden wall of the house behind him.
There was a crash.
Without turning round, Sin-Koon raised his arm and fired. The miniature match-lock in his palm erupted as it spat out a black shot, which went wildly through the air before catching a face and felling it.
The blood splattered on the wall with a satisfying gush, Sin-Koon reflected, as he flicked his wrist and sent the match-lock sliding back into its holster, the one shot having been used, and deftly drew the bloody sabre from the footpad's arm with his other hand.

The next thug took the blade through his stomach, Sin-Koon twirling it sharply so that it danced in and flicked out again in seconds, leaving a deep slash of thick blood in its wake.
Barely moving, Sin-Koon leant forward to avoid the swung bar of another, then leant back and caught the bar as it came back, twisting it out of the wielder's hands and breaking it over their skull.
A moment passed as he spun, releasing the bar and letting it fly from his grip, thudding into the chest of the fourth, who was still reaching for his knife.
Striding over, graceful as a dancer, Sin-Koon brought his fist up and snapped the man's head back, breaking the neck deftly and cleanly, before stepping back.

Sin-Koon sheathed his sabre and turned to leave before the first had hit the ground.

One of them was wearing a nice jacket, he hoped.

Truin got up after a two hour rest feeling remarkably refreshed. It was getting dark now and the sun had set about half an hour ago. He couldn't work out why he felt so envigorated. It had only been two hours since he had fallen asleep. Oh well, he thought, no time to dwell on it now.

He swung himself off the practically untouched bed, and opened the door of his room without a sound. He made his way downstairs and left a few coppers for a tip for the staff. Unfortunately at this point the owner of the establishment came out of the bar and noticed him. "just going for a quick walk", he wheezed at her. "when I get back I can pay you for the rest of the week's stay."

"That'll be fine sir. I'm glad you've decided to stay longer" she said, and he hobbled decrepitly out of the door and onto the dark street. It was cloudy, and the light from the moon was completely absorbed, the only light coming from people's windows.

He had noticed when he tipped the owner of the inn that he was running short on gold. For a man of his abilities, however, that was no real problem. He just needed a place that attracted people, and where people would not notice that their money pouch was suddenly missing.

Obviously the best place for this would be at the inn that he had just come from, but, just in case he got caught, he couldn't afford to be recognised. He quickly nipped into a alleyway coming off the main street, and after about a minute re-emerged, now with a young face and short black hair.

The crippled hobble was replaced with a confident stride, and he was dressed in local clothes so as to blend in.

He re-entered the pub surreptitiously, spotted a suitable target, a man well into his cups and staring vacantly at nothing in particular, and sat down next to him.

Having ordered a nihonshu, he rested his head on one hand on the bar, in a position of deep thought. Slowly, his other hand, concealed beneath his layers of clothes, inched out towards the man's belt, on which Truin had spotted a small bag, presumably filled with coin...

Sin-Koon

The town square was silent. Grim, tense silent.
People were going to die, here. The atmosphere screamed it in the quiet hush. The lull before the kill. The moment of pure, blissful awareness before the plunge.
The stranger stood over the corpse, perfect hair ruffled by the cool breeze, a steady drip of blood falling from his sword.
He'd killed someone. Instant, brilliant death. Sin-Koon recognised it and swelled with admiration, silent applause for the gory spectacle.
There was a rumble as a large, brutish giant pushed his way out of a bar. Men poured out behind him. Clubs were handed out, gripped, shaken. Knives and chains glinted in the bar's lamplight. Sin-Koon could tell they stank of beer, of cheap spirits.
Low-life. Scum. Villains?

Sin-Koon didn't know. He didn't know who was right and who was wrong. Doubted there was such a thing.
Looked to the man with the silver hair. Saw...something. A trace of familiarity. A sense of...home. The way back.
Looked to the mob.
Without thinking, Sin-Koon drew his sabre and stepped out beside the stranger.
Unease. Tension. Impossible to trust a man whose very sword seemed unnatural, twisted, different.

Impossible to take any other side, however.
Sin-Koon grimaced.

"Nice hair."

Blayne

(continued from here)

His boots carved a long streak within the grass, superhuman celerity tracing him along the wall of the bio-dome with Breanna slung over his shoulder. He squinted against the air-resistance of his eyes, straining to focus upon what looked like an imperfection in an, otherwise smooth, wall. To get a clearer picture, he began to slow down, stepping himself down into a regular-man’s pace while aborting the telekinetic influence he had let aid his sprint. This was no imperfection. It was a door.

Still holding Breanna’s body with his right hand, his left reaches out along the door, feeling it beneath the leather of his black glove. It was a heavy door, but there didn’t seem to be any workable locks on his side. He pushed his hand against the door, and it wouldn’t budge. Something was holding in place, but it could have been anything. From the inside of the dome, he couldn’t tell if it was a bolt lock or a machine of some sort. Again, he redirected his telekinesis. Initially, he pushed against one side of the large, double doors with his palm, muscles thickening in his biceps and forearm, tightening the see-through mesh of the chest of his black shirt. When that didn’t work, he pushed forward with his mind as well, telekinetically putting a strain on the door that caused it to moan and creak, like the bows of a great ship. With one finally pushed, whatever lock was holding the doors snapped, and they both sprung open, slamming against the walls of the hallway that succeeded them.

Although he wasn’t sure about Breanna’s state, he knew that he could not simply run through whatever sort of place this was, with a reckless abandon. He began to walk slowly through the hallway, taking a look around and seeing, through surrounding windows and portals, that this entire establishment, whatever it was, was massive. It was obviously floating in space, and he could see various sections of it that seemed to extend for miles into the cosmos. With no idea of what this massive region was, or what kind of people might inhabit it, he continued moving on, looking for any signs of shelter; some place where he could stop and tend to Breanna’s condition, and maybe find some answers as to just where in the Hell they were, in the process.

Boyleef


Boyleef shivered as his eyeballs rolled to the side, taking in the details of the man who had stepped up beside him.
"You have no business here." Boyleef rasped,through gritted teeth.
"Business," the man replied, a knowing grin creeping over his weathered features, "has nothing to do with it". The man winked and leapt forward into the mob, his sabre held high.
Boyleef let out a low grunt and stood back, observing the spectacle. The man was certainly skilled with his sword; he had been trained, proffesionally. This much could be told from the footwork of the man, weaving back and forth like a snake in long grass.
There was now 6 men surrounding the man. They had formed a tight circle, and were advancing. The man was breathing heavily; a small trickle of blood running down his cheek into his matted beard.
Boyleef let out an indignant laugh and sat himself down on a keg. 'How's he getting out of this one!
The first and largest of the six men leapt forward at the man, their attack was completely misjudged, leaving their unprotected belly open. The man gave a quick sidestep as the thug soared past him out of the circle. The attacker let out a low groan as he looked down at his stomach is it tipped out onto the dry ground.
A few of the smaller men took a step back, preffering to watch the largest of the group take on the stranger. The man braced himself, grinning; but it was too late. The ringleader's foot came swinging up into his chest, firing him back at least six meters onto a pile of crates which cracked underneath the weight.
Boyleef sighed heavily as the smaller men began to run towards the man's injured body.
There was a hissing sound as the 4 men stopped in their tracks, falling to the ground. Boyleef brought his arm back down to his side, feeling the two remaining throwing knives.
The larger man turned around, roaring in rage. As he came stampeding towards Boyleef's composed figure his face contorted in agony and he tumbled to the ground, just inches from Boyleef's feet. Standing upon his back was the man, his sword lodged deep in the man's back.
Boyleef grinned; "Very good."
With that, Boyleef leapt to the rooftop of the bar, looking down on Sin-Koon.
He looked up for a moment to the large blue moon, then down once more at Sin-Koon.
He laughed, and was gone.

Sin-Koon

Sin-Koon frowned.
The man has gone. That was one. An irritational one, too. Somehow the stranger was connected to a return to...a return home...and Sin-Koon knew he would have to follow. His frowning deepened. Not his best fight, all in all. He had lacked the smooth grace and natural poise he prided himself on. That was two.
Still, it had had its moments. He drew the sabre free from the thug's spine. A perfect thrust, severing cord and bone, the blade's wicked tip curving up into the lungs on the other side. He checked the blade. Notched, slightly. Not good.
With a final sigh Sin-Koon wiped the blade clean and slid it home over his back.

It was time to go hunting. To follow the man that didn't want to be found. To do what? Sin-Koon didn't know. Improvise, improvise improvise.

It was time to find a way back.

Taifa

When she had managed to calm down a bit, she took note of what was going on. She layed her hand on his chest to check his breath and heart rate. He was unconscious, but whether it was from the alcohol he'd ingested or her dragging him from the tavern, she didn't know. She felt his neck, checking to see if the pressure from his shirt had injured him in some way, but she felt nothing out of the ordinary. Glad that he was not harmed, she stood up and tried to figure out where she was.

A brief flash of memory... I'm... I'm at the academy?

She didn't know how she knew, having not even taken the time to smell the dust that was always prevalent or heard any of the instructors or students wandering the paths between the buildings. She hadn't even noticed the change in temperature between the town and the academy; the latter was always inexplicably warmer. She had seen it.

It was in that moment that she realized that whatever had been taking over her body and consciousness could see. She had not always been blind, so she was still able to recognize certain small details, and they all lined up... But this was impossible! She was blind! There was no way that she should know that Deep Blackwater's cloak was brown and his boots were black and that he was drastically in need of a shave.

What was going on with this thing?!?

Shouting emerged from several of the buildings, but none of the ones close by. The shinobi were fired up about something, and Taifa felt that figuring out what they were riled up about was more important that puzzling out what, at the moment, was causing no harm. Not wanting to leave Deep alone, she used her cane to carefully draw her name in the dirt next to hm. She also added the number 17 underneath it, a signal that those who knew her would recognize as a sign that he had her seal of approval.

Facing his unconscious form, she said, "I'm sorry, Mr. Blackwater, but I must go." With that, she raced off to find someone who could provide her with some information.

A few minutes later, she managed to stop someone passing by and ask, "Could you tell me what's going on?"

"Taifa! Eight people were murdered tonight! A squad went off to try and track them down, but they've just returned without a clue as to where they went. We're about to organize an extended search."

"Did anyone see the attackers?" She was now fairly certain that with eight murders, it was highly likely that the screams she had heard had indeed come from at least one of those sites.

"A group of six went after the two and were all killed, leaving behind a number of witnesses. The other two murders were separate, but judging by the how they were killed, they appear to be linked."

She thought for a moment. "Where's Anko?"

"I don't know. Probably out looking for you."

She sighed. "Thanks, Tishi." She headed home, knowing that that would be the first place that Anko would look, though she hoped that her instructor would go to the others' houses first. So much for a day off.

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

Any good guys feel like stepping up?

We can have more than one character, right?

Chander

In the night, a man appeared.
No memories, no past, no history. A clean slate.
For good or evil. He appeared.

His eye burned. Reaching up a hand to it, he felt the bloody pulp of his eye-socket. The gore that blinded him like fire.
He groaned again, the low, animal moan growing as he suddenly spasmed, clawing at the mess that dominated his face. Fingers scrabbling at the mashed-up jelly of his eye, the flesh churned up around it, the bestraggled lengths of nerve.
He stopped, breathing heavily. He has fished out what was left of his right eye, and now it lay festering on the grass, inches from his face.
A hollow socket stared out, blind.
He tore what he found of his clothes, and tied them in a rough eyepatch.

Then he screamed.


Chander.
That was what stared down on him. Chander, the moon. He didn't know where the word came from. It would be his name, he decided. No memories came to him, and he eventually surrendered himself to ignorance. Blissful doubt.
He was poorly clothed, a grubby shirt now torn and ripped to form the bandage that covered his bloody, ruined eye, grubby leggings reaching his ankles and grubby boots, scuffed and weathered.
At his side hung a short, brutal looking blade. A falcata.
He didn't know where that came from, either.
He breathed deeply, for awhile. Gathered his thoughts.

No, he hadn't just clawed out his eye. The wound was long healed, blood long dried. Whenever he had lost his right eye, it certainly hadn't been this night. The eyepatch wasn't from his shirt, either. It was good cloth, and tied professionally in a knot at the back. Nestled naturally in with his long, thick, wavy black hair. A memory? Some forgotten relic of his past?
The sword scared him. Had he been a warrior? A killer? A murderer? An evil man, a bad man.
It scared him, but he didn't take it off. Didn't cast it into the air and never look back.
Needed it.

He looked around, realising how easily seeing with one eye came to him. How natural it felt.
A town? A village? Did he know the place?
There was shouting, a disturbance. Chander found himself running, running to where men were gathering, where people were crowding and calling, a call to arms, to assemble, a call for good folk to rise and do good deeds.

Was this his calling?

Sorry it's long. I'm bored. And good guys take time stepping up. :]

Breanna

(continued from here)

The two in the midst of things managed to break apart, neither one released eye contact from the other. Bre was the first to jump into the fire, so to speak, this time. Both were only but a few feet from one another, Bre stepped off her right foot, drawing back her left hand, then swinging it forward towards the demons face. Before the demon could react, she was already hit against the face.

The initial shock wore off the demon. Her eyes narrowed towards Breanna, she in returned sent her right hand swinging back then forward and right against the cheek of Breanna. Fists from both swung back and forth against one another.

Eventually, they were entangled with one another and falling to the ground, rolling over upon each other. Breanna rolled over upon the demon, her hands lowering, fingers curling around the demons neck. Her form leans up on her knees as her hands applied pressure against the demons neck.

Breanna could only hope all of this would end soon and she would be awaken, yet a thought crossed her head, what if she was dead, why couldnt she see anymore what was going on out in the real world....why could she not feel her husband any longer?

Her fingers released, but only slightly, enough to where if she had to force pressure once more she could. However all sudden she realized she was alone, when before she could feel Blayne, she could not now. ‘Blayne...?’ she whispered in her head.

Yeah! Page 2!

Taifa

“Taifa Ijara! Where have you been?” Her voice was obviously angry at being unable to find her. By all rights, at this hour the young ninja should have been home and deeply asleep, but instead, she had caused her parents to worry and had even sent her two teammates out to look for her.

She had no excuse, but Anko Mitarashi would want to hear more than that. Luckily, she knew that she would not be interrupted until she had finished her report. Relaying briefly the events of that day, and focusing primarily on her interaction with Deep Blackwater, she brought her instructor up until the time that she blacked out. She was careful in her description of what she had heard in the tavern and commented on the improbability of her own ability to hear something so clearly at such a distance. “It’s been eight months since this happened last, and I still don’t know what triggered it. I came to on the academy grounds, where I had somehow dragged Mr. Blackwater by his shirt collar. I then heard a commotion and after running into Tishi, discovered that a search was being organized and that you were looking for me, so I headed straight home.”

By the sound of Anko’s breathing and her subsequent words, she was satisfied with this report. “Fine. We’ll discuss this latest incident later, as Konshotu and Gakeo should be getting back any time now.” She paused for a moment before asking, “And where is Blackwater right now?”

“I left him on the training grounds where I awoke. Next to him I signed my name with a 17, as I was told to do.”

“Good.”

Not done yet. Something funky's going on with my computer. Will finish tomorrow.

I getcha. Funky things are always going on with my machine. :]
Gonna do this while I'm still concious.

Chander

"What's going on?"
The woman turned, agitated. A fish hung limply in one of her hands, a basket in the other. Market day?
"They've found bodies." she said, sounding very much like she wanted someone to think of the children.
"Eight of them." an elderly man confirmed. "T'is been a murder."
"I heard it was more like ten bodies." the woman offered, but a youth with red, sticking-out ears shook his head vehemently.
"Nah, nah. Sixteen was what I heard."
"It was eight." the elderly man insisted, but others around shouted him down.
"Ten!" the woman objected.
"Sixteen!" the youth nodded.
"Fifty!" a voice called.
A wave of panic and excitement rippled through the crowd. They knew how to liven up a dull day in the village, Chander guessed. He clutched at the woman's shawl.
"So what's going to happen now?" he asked, shouting to be heard.
"A hunt." she shrugged. "Maybe the ninjas will be sent."
A general chorus of agreement affirmed this.
Chander nodded, slightly disorientated, and headed down one of the side-streets.

Did they know him? Was this his hometown? Was he just another of those poor bumpkins looking for anything, however morbid, to put some excitement in their day?
He sighed, and sank to the cobbled ground. A club lay beside him.
He frowned. Lifting his gaze, he saw the face. The body.
He screamed, and fell sideways.
Four bodies lay dead in the alley, some propped up against the houses that walled the narrow passageway, others bent and broken on the floor. Dying where they fell. Dead before they hit the ground.
Killed neatly, perfectly, expertly. Precise and cold, deliberate and purposeful.
Chander felt sick. He hadn't seen a corpse before...had he? Had he?
That thought terrified him as much as the grinning faces before him, dried blood fixing them into the deathly grimace, the mask of the slain.
He retched, drily. Wanted them away. Wanted more than anything for the bodies to...just go.

A body jerked. Chander screamed. The body shuddered, and Chander flailed, lashing out into the air.
The body flew up, and then down again, crashing into a bale of hay down the alleyway, disappearing into the straw.
Chander breathed. Panic. Had...had he done that?
He took a breath in. Raised a shaky hand, unsteadily. Waved it at another one of the wretched bodies. It didn't move. He shook his head. Focused. Felt the tendons that linked his hand invisibly through the air, through his thoughts, through the air and through the world itself. Like he was part of it.
He moved his hand, slowly. The body jerked, lifting into the air awkwardly, as though being dragged up by the chest, arms and legs limply hanging to the side.
Chander shook his head. Forgot his disgust, forgot his fear. Shook the body, sent ripples and waves of invisible thought, made the corpse dance in the air, thrown up and caught, spun and twisted by the unseen puppet-strings he held with his mind alone.
Could he do this?

He laughed. It seemed absurd. Beautiful in its own way. The body, jerking in its obscene parody of life, his mind flowing out through his hand, in the motions he made.
He took the hand away. Focused. Used his mind alone. Directed the floating corpse, making it dance and twirl faster, faster, uncontrollably, gaining speed, too fast, too much power flooding his thoughts, hurting his mind...
He let go.
The body spun once more, carried on by the unnatural waltz, and then hung in the air for a second.
And then exploded.

Chander choked, coughed. Peeled the decaying flesh from his face. The revulsion flooded back to him, and he threw up, clutching his stomach.
Like the sword at his side, he'd found another haunting clue to his past.
And he hated it.

Shakily, he got up. He had to join the ninjas. Had to join the good guys.

Had to be a hero.

Couldn't be a villain.

Waah, went a bit type-crazy again. Chander makes me do it.

Blayne

Moments passed. Blayne continued to glance at Breanna to make sure that, should she wake us as the demon he so loathed, he wouldn’t be caught completely off guard. Along the hallway, he’d come to a panel at his right. There were small discs in the floor, each of them bearing a series of buttons with identical symbols on them. They were simple pictures of different locations, ranging from what Blayne could make out as smithies, lounges, taverns, etc. Many of them were wide open expanses of environments, but Blayne couldn’t quite tell exactly what locales they were illustrating.

A bit weary of these devices, Blayne raised one hand, fingers touching to one of the panels. He could tell that it was either a tavern or restaurant, due to little food and drink icons set along side of a building structure. When he pressed it, a column of fluorescent light appeared in front of him, glowing with a low-frequency hum. He knew that whatever action he took, in this strange place, could lead to a consequence, but he also knew that he didn’t have much time to make his decisions. Breanna could possibly wake up, any moment now, and he needed to find out where it was they were, so he could devise a way to get them back home…assuming that it was even possible.

Biting the bullet, so to speak, he took a step forward. It was as if he was struck by lightning, yet there was no pain; only a single flash of light that blinded him, momentarily, and a cold shock ran through him – such an alien sensation. When the white light subsided, he was standing in a courtyard. A single building stood before him and, looking upward, he could see that he was still in the same celestial structure, obviously separated from space by the same sort of glass dome that was over the garden. From within the building, he could hear voices, music. If there was anywhere he was going to get answers, this would hopefully be the place.

He adjusted Breanna’s body, still slung over his shoulder, and stepped forward, off of the teleportation plate which had brought him here. His eyes remained vigilant, even in the short walk between the plate and the building itself. Reaching out with one hand, he pushed open the door, his eyes falling upon the inside of a, surprisingly busy, tavern. Standing at the door, he took a moment to analyze his surroundings, anticipating any possible hostility before looking for a quiet corner. No matter how much he wanted to ignore it, he couldn’t help but notice that his heart was racing. He was a complete stranger here, and had no idea what to expect. Yet, here he was, along with his wife, the two of them possibly at the mercy of the worst that this realm has to offer. After a few cautious steps, he places Breanna’s unconscious figure down upon the cushioned seats of one of the booths, taking yet another moment to glance at the strangers that surrounded them.

Taifa

Shortly after she finished her report, the two boys on her team had returned.

"We're to search the hill around the Serenity Tavern. As you know it's a fairly open space and not many places to hide, but from the sounds of things, these people are professionals. If you find one of the men or hear about their possible location, you are not to engage. You are to report to me and we will call for backup."

"Yes, sir," the three of them replied.

"Good. Let's head out, and remember to stay close and stick together."

The four made their way as quickly as possible towards the southern gate. The imposed curfew and the thought of class-A murderers in the city had drawn everyone indoors, so all of the streets were dark and quiet. After they had been allowed though the gate, it was a short hike up the hill before they arrived at the Serenity Tavern. One teammate quietly explained to Taifa what he was seeing so that she would have an idea of what was around her.

"It's larger than any other tavern in the city by far. It's about 350 yards from end to end and three stories high. There is a large white wooden door at the entrance and a glass dome is visible on the roof over the door. How wide it is, I can't tell from here. The trees form a ring around the building but there is a grassy area between the trees and the tavern that is approximately another 150 yards in all directions."

"Windows? Rooms?" Taifa inquired.

"Approximately 70 windows the front of the building. On the top floor, there are doors that lead out to balconies out of every third window. There is a large balcony outside of the room overlooking this entrance. It's too dark for me to tell, though, what kind of rooms are on the inside."

"Don't be fooled," Anko stated, "by the outside. This place is outside of the city gates, so all manner of people frequent this tavern."

Taifa had noticed long before they had come to the entrance that this was a popular destination. "It's quite full inside." The music had a distinct timbre to it that she had heard walking by other taverns in the evening. It was later than she was normally out, though, so the patrons had had substantial time to ingest their drinks of choice. "Half of them are drunk enough to have their speech impaired. A number of them can't see straight, judging from the sound of the heavy footfalls and objects being jostled. There are six bartenders. Two men are standing right inside the door."

"How can you tell about the two men?"

Taifa moved aside. "They're throwing two others out."

The others stepped aside just as the door was flung open - as quickly as a door of that size could be flung - and two very odiferous women were thrown out. Taifa could tell by the sound of their hands and legs hitting the pavement that they weren't exactly dressed for the cool night. She chose not to think about who they might be as they were noticed by the two bouncers.

"No minors are allowed," one of them stated in a low, rehearsed tone.

Anko pulled out her orders and flashed them before him. "We are ordered to search the building and the surrounding grounds for any sign of two men. They murdered a number of citizens earlier today and remain at large. Have either of you seen any people who appear to be out of the ordinary in the last few hours?"

They laughed. "Miss," the other man began, "all sorts of travelers frequent this tavern. Some fifty people alone have arrived in the last hour alone. You're welcome to look around, and if you find them, let us know."

The first continued. "I've been itching for a good clean fight. These drunks are making me soft."

Anko stepped up to him. "I would advise against such a course of action." Her voice lowered and she moved even closer. "Strongly."

Judging by the changes in the tone of their breathing, Taifa knew that they had caught her drift. They nodded and the four carefully entered the tavern.

Moments had passed since she had been left by the demon, she was still wondering around in her thoughts and how to get back into the world of reality, or the only reality she knew at the moment. Closing her eyes, she took in a deep, long breath, before opening her eyes once more. The demon stood before her, leaving Breanna shocked enough to scream loudly. Upon her screaming loudly within her mind, she also did in the reality of things. As Blayne sat across from her, all he could see was arms swinging and screaming coming out.

Her eyes opened, revealing terrified eyes and glaring directly towards Blayne. Both hands slapped out to each side against the back of the booth. Her head shifted from right to left wondering where in the hell she was. Within seconds she had pulled both her hands towards her stomach, fingers spreading out at she felt the swelling to begin and was relieved to know everything seemed alright.

Confusion was a key at this moment. Her upper body had leaned back once more against the booth, her hands remaining upon her stomach. Her chest heaved from the terror that had struck her just moments before, leaving her even unable to speak for the moment. After attempting to compose herself, tears filled within the eyes her husband loved so. The shiney glare from them looking directly at him ‘I don’t.....know what’s wrong with me....’ she cried with trembling lips ‘What is going on, Blayne, why is all of this happening and how did we get here....and what is here?’

Deep


Deep lay on the ground and slept. As he slept he dreamed. He dreamed of how he'd gotten to this place...

As he watched the strange ritual from the edge of the clearing, Deep became more and more curious as to just what was going on. What was that dark liquid? Who were the black-robed women? He didn't have to wait long to find out. Suddenly, the woman who had done the chanting moments earlier turned slightly, and her eyes locked with Deep's. No surprise showed in her ebony orbs, as she motioned for him to step out of the shadows. Odd words came from her lips, gibberish to Deep's ears. He stepped forward, into the firelight, then hesitated. The woman's face became stern, her voice became sharper, and she beckoned him nearer. He had a bad feeling about this...

Deep came closer to the woman, the heat from the fire warming his front. She smiled gap-toothedly, then dipped out a dipper full of the steaming broth from the cauldron, and raised it to his lips. He sipped at it. It wasn't bad, really. A bit sweet maybe, even. At the old hag's insistence he drank down the rest in one drought. When she spoke next he understood her words. “You seek revenge.”

It was a statement, not a question. How could she know? Deep did not respond.

“You seek a way off this forsaken island.”

Well, she was right on that count. He nodded, and started to speak, but no words came when he opened his mouth. He tried again. His voice had gone; all that emerged was a raspy cough. What the devil was that stuff he had drank? He felt his thoughts beginning to fade into gray. The last thing he remembered was the hag's necklace of human teeth, with a strange medallion suspended from it, glowing in the firelight. The image on the gold medallion, that of a stylized crocodile in the throes of death, imprinted itself in his mind.

Deep woke the next morning beside the remains of his fire, back on the beach. He sat up with a start, warily looking about. Had it all been just a dream? His eyes settled on a scrap of faded animal skin lying beside him in the sand. Picking it up, he gingerly unfolded it. Upon the inner surface of the leather was a crudely drawn map, leading into the jungle from where he lay. It's destination was marked with a simple diagonal cross. Underneath the map, almost buried in the sand, was a single gold coin. It bore the markings of a jumping jaguar on one face . . . and a thrashing crocodile on the other.

So it hadn't been just a dream. Did this map lead to its companions? Was that what the witch was trying to tell him? Did it really even matter? Only one way to find out. He wasn't going to last long here with no water anyway. Deep picked himself up, dusted his backside off, turned the map around to orient the right way, and headed off into the jungle.

Four hours later, Deep was vigorously cursing the ancestors of the witch that led him on this wild goose chase, along with their ancestors and their ancestors' ancestors. It was all fine and well to draw it on a map, but finding it... That was another thing altogether it seemed. It should have been just about here, but he'd be buggered if he could find anything resembling treasure. He was about to give up and just collapse where he was when he saw the blue glow. It was coming from the trunk of a huge tree, easily a dozen meters thick. He fought his way through the green undergrowth to get closer. The glow was emanating from a small archway set in the tree, about a meter and a half high. It wasn't overly bright, but neither was it faint. It just glowed, with a blue hue.

Deep thought for a moment, shrugged, and stepped through.

Around him the world seemed to sort of hiccup, with everything jumping at once, but at the same time never moving. And then he was standing beside a dirt path in a wooded area not far from a small river. He could hear children playing not far off, and water running. He sat down. What in tarnation was this? After taking a bare minute to gather his thoughts, Deep decided he needed a drink. Gathering himself, he headed in the direction of the sounds, staying off of the path. He needed to find a tavern...

Deep woke with a start, jumping to his feet and drawing his saber in one swift, if slightly unsteady, move. Eyes darting left to right, he saw no one nearby, but he seemed to be on the grounds of some type of academy. Sheathing his sword, Deep relaxed for the moment. He didn't know how he'd gotten here, but there seemed to be a lot of that going around today. Looking down, he noticed characters drawn in the dirt. They meant nothing to him, but they looked like something that girl, Taifa, might use. Thinking for a second, Deep heard a bit of a commotion coming from the village nearby. Whether he wanted to investigate or not, he wasn't sure.

Blayne

Just before leaving the table to step toward the bar, he noticed the stirring before him, bright blue eyes shifting back over to the convulsing figure of his wife. He raised, partially, from his booth, leaning over the table and reaching one arm out to her, the subtle padding of his leather glove sheathing that of the strong hands beneath as they touched down upon her shoulder. He had hoped to have some kind of answers, before she'd awoken, but he knew there was no sense in wishing he had what he actually didn't. As far as he knew, they were still completely lost. The most important thing was that Breanna was becoming conscious, however violently.

He watched her eyes focus on him as she awoke, making sure that he was the first thing she saw, trying to lessen the impact of being in a completely foreign place. "Bre...Bre, it's alright," he said, trying to soothe her panicked confusion. The truth was that he didn't know how 'alright' anything was. As far as he knew, they were both a million miles away from home, with no chance of ever getting back. But, the details of such a conundrum would become apparent to her once again, in time. As for right now, he was simply worried about her transition back into consciousness - or what he came to assume was consciousness. The truth was that he wasn't even sure about his own state, given the events of the past few minutes.

"We're in a tavern surrounded by other people. We're safe." That was really the only comfort that he could offer her at the time. If she asked, he would let her know that he still hadn't talked to anyone, or discovered anything about the population of this place. But, until she did, his main focus was to allow her the time she needed to get her bearings. He sat down on the booth's bench, across from her, once again, his left hand still stretched across the table and softly touching her shoulder. His eyes held fast to hers as if he was peering into her very soul, trying to hold Breanna's gaze so that she stayed focused on the familiar, and didn't become disoriented by realizing that she didn't know where the hell she was.

"Are you alright?"

Her vision was still slightly on the blurry side from the tears that had formed. She had heard Blayne speak and gave a simple nod for now. Though she honestly didn’t know if she was alright or not. The situation at hand was to much, she just wanted to go home. Each hand lowered about her stomach, each one rubbing gently against its now forming. For a brief moment her eyes closed in simple relief of that.

‘I want to go home, Blayne, why have you not go us home?’ she spoke as quiet as possible. She did not know who was around, who they were or even if she cared who they were. ‘We can not live like this. We have a son at home, we have another on the way, why can we not just go home?’ she repeated. Her eyes glanced towards him, soft ocean tones begging to him. ‘I promise of you get me home all of this will be forgotten, anything I have ever accused you of, anything you have ever done or said, all forgiven, just please I am begging with all I have. I just need.....I just need to feel safe again and I do not feel safe here....there has to be a way, any way, we just have to find it. I can NOT TAKE THIS’ she screamed out. Both her hands lashing up then down against the table. Pulling her hands back, her upper half leaned over, bringing both hands to her face ‘This is simply crazy and if I don’t get out of here I will soon go along with it and become a complete nut case, is that what you want? I do think I have been....we have been through enough in these past weeks, months, HELL, I don’t even know what damn day it is’

‘I can’t remember the last time I ate....or drank for that matter. I am possessed by some godly demon, who apparently has a thing for my husband and wants me dead, hell go figure. Could life get any damn better then this?’ she spoke in a sarcastic tone.

‘It seems every time I am with child something terrible happens, even though that has only been twice, but you get what I mean. Forget it...I am insane, its simple to see.’

Blayne

"I know, Bre..." Blayne placed his elbows down upon the table, lowering his head for just a moment and setting his forehead down upon his palms, apparently frustrated. "I want to go home just as bad as you do...but...I don't even know where the hell we are...let alone how we got here." He brushed his hands a little further back over his head, exhaling. "Honestly, I don't even know where to begin," he sighed, dropping his hands back down in front of him and raising his head, blond strands of hair falling down in front of his eyes, leaving him looking a little disheveled.

His thoughts blew through his brain like storm squalls, flashes of time chasing each other around in his mind's eye as he struggled to recall all of the vents that lead the couple to this strange place. Try as he might, he just could not fill the gap between having telepathically linked himself with Breanna's mind - to try to break Asmodeus's spell - and waking up in the middle of a field in this Godforsaken habitat. They were just...BAM...here. "I mean, it just doesn't make any sense." He smacked his palms against the tabletop lightly, brows narrowing, eyes darting to one side and starting into space; the gears within obviously turning. "How did we get here? I could tell how powerful that entity that possessed his house was, but I.." and he stopped in the middle of his sentence. A chill had flushed through his body, almost causing the hair on his arms to bristle. Steely blue eyes darted about, although gazing at nothing, his mind skimming through the files of his thoughts.

Suddenly, he looked back at Breanna, a look of surprised concentration on his face.

He was about to speak, but visibly caught the words before they left his lips, waiting long enough to be sure of what he was sensing. At the thought of the House of Asmodeus, he felt it's presence. He was sure of it. As a master telepath, the feeling was unmistakable. "Breanna...." his eyes flitted wildly as he tried to quantify the feeling "...I can feel it...the House." His head actually moved around, now, following his eyes which were now actually focusing on the scenery around them. He knew that Asmodeus's Demon House was strong enough telepathically to rival his own powers, but he'd never stopped to wonder about the true depths of its abilities. That is, until now.

"Do you think we're still.....Could we still be trapped inside your head?" His eyes were extremely focused, now, looking at the table in between them as if he was seeing it for the first time. If he was right, and this was some sort of illusion, it was incredible, as he's not usually one fooled by his own tricks. He felt as if he was waking up in a vivid dream. The question was; if this was, in fact, some form of mental trickery, could he bring his mind back to the waking world?

Blayne didn't even wait for Breanna to answer. Instead, he decided to test the impulsive theory, if only to rule it out. He placed his hands on the table, palms down, closing his eyes and clenching them tightly. By the second, the muscles in his jaws and temples began to flare, announcing his deepening concentration. His fingers arched, tips pressing down on the table as he imposed all of will upon his own intention to leave this dream state, and return to the waking world. He was slowly turning red. Even with as many mental battles as he has under his belt, there was very little opposition that could hold up an illusion against his defense, and he was beginning to feel the futility. He was close...so close to giving up and discarding the theory all together...when his body suddenly flickered in and out of sight, three times, right before Breanna's eyes.

His own eyes shot open, flooded with surprise. Just like that, he was back in the bar, sitting across from Bre. He didn't know what she'd seen, or if she even noticed. All he knew was that he was correct, and he had had one foot in and one foot out.

"I could feel you..." he spoke slowly, shocked. "I could feel you in my arms...we are still in Asmodeus's hallway, Breanna! It's the house!! That damned house is trying to lock our minds in this...this...whatever the Hell this place is!!"

He spoke frantically, but a big portion of his surprise was - for lack of a better word - his being impressed that Asmodeus's house possessed this much power. He didn't even know if this place was an illusion or an immaterial dimension, but what he did know was the only thing that mattered...there was a way out.

In the beginning, he was explaining how he didn’t know how they got there or what to do, however, Breanna set in her own little world through that conversation. She couldn’t help but to wonder what in the hell they were going to do and how to get back home. She did have a son to think about, though he was pretty well grown, but still he had to be worried as to where they were. She was tracing everything that happened over and over again, enough to make one insane.

It wasn’t until she caught the visage of her husband leave for a moment that caught her eye and caused her to come back to her senses and pay attention. Both hands rose, each fingers on each hands rubbing against her eyes, but she saw it again and once more to follow.

Her right brow perked up as he spoke about how he could feel her. Could he not feel her now? Where they were? This all became more confusing then it already was. He could feel her in his arms? She was speechless for a moment, her eyes drifted downwards as she went into thought. ‘Behind the wall’ she whispered to herself ‘You came for me behind the wall, you saw me’ she spoke softly.

Her hands slammed against the table ‘You done something, when I was ill, remember?’ she spoke slightly louder as her eyes lifted gazing towards his own. Her form slide along the booth more towards him ‘Can you get us back there? We have to get home. We don’t even know how long we have been gone. Can you?’ her words all rushed together, she was anxious to get out of here and where they belonged.

‘Do whatever you have to, I’m ready, just do it!’ she began to yell out, not honestly caring who heard her and who didn’t.

Killian

Killian leaned against the wall in the dimly lit bar. There were only a few barflys, but enough for Killian to be watching his back every few seconds. He was right to do so, a man of his caliber shouldn't be letting his guard down. Not with his life. Not with his secrets.

Killian held the chilly glass of scotch in his hand and ran his eyes over the place. A few drunks sitting in the corner, talking about the war... A few ladies at the bar and a couple guys hitting on them. He could tell that the girls weren't enjoying it. For some reason, he felt like giving the girls a chance.

Under any other circumstance, he would've finished his drink and walked away. Not tonight though, something was different. Killian approached the larger of the two men (both of them were smaller to begin with) and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Hey, buddy."

The two women, both very attractive, seemed to be relieved. The annoying prick turned around.

"Yeah, what's your problem?"

Killian could tell that this wasn't going to end well.

"How about you save yourself some breath and walk away from these ladies. I couldn't even hear what you were saying but I know that you're wasting your time."

The guy seemed angered.

"Why don't you back the FUCK off!"

The guy shoved him. With incredibly quick reflexes, he reached to the back of his pants for his gun. It wasn't there.

*BAM*

The guy's fist connected dead-on with Killian's jaw.

"YOU MOTHER FUCKER!"

Killian flipped right back and punched the guy in the face. He kicked him in the side of the knee, causing him to fall over. From here, Killian mounted him and started bashing his face in. He backed off several punches later, blood on his hand.

"Get the fuck out of my bar, prick."

The bartender was pointing a shotgun at him.

"Alright. I'm going to have to try to get us both out at the same time. That thing - that house, or whatever it is - is just too strong for me to get into your mind from the outside, so I'm going to have to do it while I'm still in here. Close your eyes." Both hands reached gently across the table, taking Breanna's hands into them, fingers curling into one another's. "Remember, ths is all a dream. Try to wake up. Imagine yourself coming to, in the real world. Just try. I'll do the rest."

Blayne's head lowered, his eyes closing - softly, at first, centering himself for focus. He knew that this would be harder than just getting himself out of this place, but he had no other choice other than to try for them both at once. A sliver of doubt tried to remain splintered in the back of his mind, but he did his best to file it down. If he only succeeded in pulling himself out of this illusion, and left Breanna stuck there, he would be right back where he started. But, this was out of the question. He had to give it his all and prevail, if for no other reason than to prove to himself that he could beat this telepathic hold that Asmodeus's house had on them.

Finally, his eyelids folded in upon themselves, Blayne squeezing them in concentration. Affirmation screamed through his conscious mind. He commanded himself to wake the couple up from this mental trap. His hands began to squeeze Breanna's as he strained, the blood beginning to course through his body, turning his grimaced face red before all who sat in this supposedly illusory building. As a telepath, Blayne had faith in his abilities, but this was no easy task. Literally every bit of his person was being flexed and strained, putting his all into breaking the spell. His arms began shaking upon the tabletop, beads of sweat forming over his brow, his jugular vein thickening in diameter within a visible matter of seconds.

His telepathy then began to blend with his telekinesis. As he strained to break the illusion, his mind also strained as if he were trying to break out of some invisible barrier - which, in a manner of speaking, he was. The table in front of him began to splinter, a single crack skittering across it, from his side to Breanna's. Their booth began to shake as if set on a fault line, tiny pieces of plaster breaking through from the ceiling - a testament to how realistic the House of Asmodeus was trying to make this illusion, assuming it was an illusion at all and they weren't actually on the verge of escaping from some other dimension.

To the onlooker, their bodies flickered once in time, then twice. Having just this tiny taste of home, Blayne turned up the juice, in desperation. This franticness buckled the ground beneath him, shattering the concrete below their table with a telekinetic surge and sending a crevice zig-zagging a couple of yards out away from them. Twice more their bodies flickered, as if two sparks of energy, disappearing and reappearing from view. Finally, they flickered once more, and for the last time. The couple had vanished from the table, indefinitely, leaving nothing but a seismic mess in that corner of the bar.

Whether it was immaterial or not, they had escaped the Arcane Arena. Of course, they would have liked nothing more than to be back home in Avernus, but they had one more stop to make - back with there ethereal bodies, still holed up in Avalon, in the dreaded House of Asmodeus.

guitar boy enters. who looks around, confused. leaves shortly after that

I FARTED!!!!



/win

Wow, I wasn't really serious at all, but I guess I did.




Awesome!