'Children of The Shroud' - A Dark Fantasy RP (Interest/Recruitment - CLOSED AND STARTED)

[Daystar Clarion]

All flustered after the inappropriate touching, Sparrow dusted herself down, glancing skyward every time a someone came through the portal.

Damning herself for not thinking to construct a makeshift rope, she doubled over slightly and rubbed the dull ache from her ankle. The chatter of her comrades confirmed her suspicions that they were indeed lost, this place was certainly not the sewers from which they came. It smelled old and dusty.

What felt like a sudden breeze rushed through her bones as all the torches in the area were snuffed out.

"Bollocks." She muttered, as panic began to rise in her throat. Suddenly a bright light blazed into life above them, slowly falling to the ground, it was a tiny thing, yet managed to illuminate the room more than the several torches it replaced.

'Dragon Silver?'

No, the light was bright, but not blinding, it had a peculiar warmth to it, like several flames had been condensed into one tiny spark. It comforted her for some reason, and she felt drawn to it. Sparrow took a few steps forward, as the little light retreated into a tunnel, lighting them a path. "Aww, come back." She whispered playfully, a small smile on her face.

Shaking her head, she ignored such childish thoughts. "I s'pose we best follow it eh?" She stated plainly as she started to follow the light.

 

[lacktheknack]

All the lights went out.

The musty smell was overwhelming.

Andra's internal voices didn't even have anything to say about the situation. The sudden silence felt oppressively heavy. Andra felt like she had fallen into a tomb, and was then sealed in.

It was like that horrible "no hope" hospital room she'd been relegated to. Andra's chest began to burn again from the agonizing memory.

Suddenly, a small light appeared and floated down to where they were.

Hope.

She'd read about something like this in a fairy tale. A small child had been lost in the woods and stalked by a wolf, but a fairy had taken pity and guided her out of the forest.

"Aww, come back."

...just like that. The girl looked very similar to the girl in Andra's mind when she read that story. The resemblance between the two situations was uncanny.

The light was floating away, leading who-knows-where. Andra yelped internally and quickly began walking after it. She'd spent too long doing the safe thing. She still regretted not climbing the walls and joining the running children she'd seen in the morning. This was a chance to finally step out and see what was beyond her comfort zone.

"I s'pose we best follow it, eh?"

Andra was already gingerly but swiftly chasing the light through the black catacombs.

 

[The Funslinger]

Finally, everyone was through. Will supposed they might have been able to go about it faster if they'd been more coordinated about it. Get the rope tugging established. That way the others needn't have pussyfooted around jumping into that odd portal.

"I s'pose we best follow it eh?"

"I don't suppose we have much choice," Will said as he followed the light. "If this place is anything like the sewers we left, I imagine there are things that are a damn sight braver when the lights go out." He was still holding the unlit torch. With no knife in his possession, the stout wooden handle would make a decent enough club, and that was probably the best he could hope for in terms of a weapon.

 

[Rufio's Ghost]

Rope in hand, Langston firmly planted his feet on the ancient tiled floor, bracing himself against the strong gust that blew through the great halls. With all of the torches now quenched, the group was once again plunged into complete darkness. Knotted webbing lightly brushed against his face as it fell from above, somehow their line had been severed. Langston felt a pang of despair realizing just how trapped they were; without a light they would not find the way forward and without the line they could never make it back. His hopes were quenched along with the flames; it seemed that every small victory was overshadowed by an even greater defeat. Tears stung his eyes as he was overcome by both a mental and physical fatigue, he just wanted this to end- it was all too much, everything had become too much.

A small ball of light appeared, almost in response to his anguish. The tiny anomaly shone brightly, bobbing hypnotically as it drifted down the hall. He wiped the tears from his eyes, being careful not to hit his tender nose, and becoming filled with an unfounded calm and a childlike sense of wonder.

'That's... peculiar..'

"I s'pose we best follow it eh?"

"I don't suppose we have much choice"

'I suppose we don't.'

Langston felt completely removed as his body propelled forward, swaying along with the light. He wrapped what was left of the rope around his shoulder as he moved down the hall.

 

[Arrogancy]

Blaise watched as the others finally came through the portal, tripping and tumbling down into heaps, as those who came before had as well. He took a few more deep breaths, feeling the pain at his side flare, then fade into a dull throb. Pacing around the hall for a moment to work out the aches in his legs, he began to weigh his options. He could travel down the hall, one end or other, that'd lead somewhere probably. There was also the increasingly laughable idea of abandoning the Shroud and taking his chances back on the streets of the Drowned District. He was in too deep to simply abandon it now.

Looking back to the portal, he wondered what the others were thinking, what drove them, then banished the thoughts. Why they were here didn't matter, that they could help, that they may, or may not be useful did. Survival had meaning, deal with the details later.

And then the lights went out.

Instinctively, Blaise reached for his knife and pushed back into the nearest wall, waiting. Next would come an ambush, or someone trying to take advantage of the darkness, but he'd be ready.

A few moments passed. No one tried to come to him, no one tried to kill him. A soft light began drifting down the hall, Blaise turned to get a better look at it, letting his hands drift closer to his sides.

A light, independent of any person or any holder came by, danced in front of the group for a few moments then drifted away.

Sparrow was the first to speak, "I s'pose we best follow it eh?"

"I don't suppose we have much choice" Another replied.

"Aye, we don't." Blaise slipped his knife away once more, "Let's go, before it floats away." He called to the others, going down the hall at a brisk pace.

 

[Fappy]

Selena was just as surprised to see the lights blink out as everyone else, but didn't mind the sudden breeze. Must have been the booze. No sooner did the lights go out that another took their place. An odd, bright ball appeared out of seemingly nowhere and hovered down to the ground near Sparrow.

Mesmerized by it's alien nature, Selena slowly trudged over to it, ignoring the bickering of those around her. Their protests and observations meant little to her. All that mattered was the oddity before her. Stepping past Sparrow, she bent over and plunged a curious finger towards the light. Selena recoiled in shock as the light seemingly skipped backwards, avoiding contact altogether. Wide-eyed and jaw agape, she couldn't help but let out a small laugh, "What a weird lil' thing."

Shortly after, it began to move forward. Turning her head to those behind her, she waved them forward, "It doesn't like being touched. Let's follow it!" With that, she set off after the mysterious orb.

 

[Dogmatic99]

Maggy was (for what must have been the hundredth time that day) left looking around like a startled deer as she dusted herself off from getting dumped out of the inky blot of magic. Well she wasn't dead, that was something, and by the looks of it they'd landed somewhere fancy. Well... that used to be fancy.

Of course then the lights were blown out by a gust of wind that couldn't have happened down here making her nearly jump out of her slightly scorched skin again. The orb of light would have been a soothing if it weren't so sinister. But then Maggy was of a mind to see everything as sinister right now.

"Aww, come back."
Don't.
"I s'pose we best follow it, eh?"
Or we could not.
"I don't suppose we have much choice"
AAAaawww... let's just get it over with then...

 

[Terratina.]

'Pretty.'

The orb of light was somewhat more comforting than the gust of wind which preceded it. The woman seemed to think the same thing as she wandered up to the orb and tried to touch it. The orb then scattered. A slight feeling of annoyance rose up, though there wasn't any proof that the woman had scared the glowing orb away. The young girl's whispers echoed Skylar's feelings on the matter. And so she ran after the orb, naked feet crashing onto the cold floor. Hopefully she would get there first, but that was a childish folly and she was far from a child despite appearances. Still, sewer monsters, black swirling pools of darkness, and strange lights... Who knew what else she and the others would come across on their journey to the Shroud...

All had been awe-inspiring so far.

 

[NinjaDeathSlap]

The children watched patiently, transversing from beam to beam among the rafters, in total silence, as the group followed where they were led. Eventually, the orb cast by Brutus led the into a round, dome-roofed chamber, where it came to rest above a large, stone basin, at the perfect mid-point of the space. A multitude of doors stood, closed and locked, around the room's circumference, and in the spaces between the chipped and faded remnants of ancient murals traced the now faint and forgotten history of the old city. When they were all through, the door through which they had entered slammed shut, and the orb began to glow brighter, and brighter, until it's light saturated the space and left the hopefuls as blind as if they had been plunged into total darkness once again.

"They're all yours Minerva." Brutus whispered, his voice thick with satisfaction.

Minerva, who was so ready to burst out laughing that she had to bite down on her fist, nodded, closing her eyes. First, the gate had to be opened fully before the current could flow. She let them all in, feeling their accumulated hopes and fears crashing over her mind. She almost drowned in them, a most wonderful feeling, but then her eyes opened as she broke the surface, and all was calm. Now it was her turn.

==========================================================================================================================

When the light dimmed and Sparrow blinked the glare out of her eyes, she found that she was no longer accompanied by her travelling companions. Instead, she was trapped in the room with Badger, a group of his cronies arrayed behind him, brandishing knives, clubs or lengths of chain. She could tell it was badger, even as blood welling from the pulpy mass that used to be the upper portion of his head soaked his clothes and puddled on the floor around him. That smile was all she needed to recognise him.

"Sparrow never forgets, ain't the the truth." he rasped, a chorus of laughter rising from the others behind him. "Come play with us, Faye, you little ****!"

=========================================================================================================================

Giles removed the arm from his face, to find himself utterly alone, in a company of four. Three faces he saw in front of him, faces he might have recognised in a mirror had it not been so long since he'd last looked in one. All however, were slightly different. The one on the left was as emaciated as emaciated can be, the skin sagging off his bones as if he had been aged a century. The figure's pale skin cast a dirty glow, dressed in nothing but a soiled loin cloth, with track-marks dotting all his limbs. Blood wept from the corners of eyes that appeared to barely see him. On his left, a man in brown rags was doubles over, wheezing out a thick, black sputum. When he turned his face upwards, Giles saw a face covered in sores, and the space between them was etched with pain. One burst right before his eyes, and a finger of yellow, stinking ooze ran down into the corner of its mouth.

The one in the middle was the only one who smiled, but there was wickedness in it. This Giles was a rather more rotund version. Standing with arms akimbo, a deck of cards held in one hand, with a pile of coins tumbling through the other. This one said nothing, but his grin stretched ever broader as the other two shambled forwards, groaning and coughing. They reached for him, as if to grope down inside of him, and pull out his life for their own.

=========================================================================================================================
Andra's world was aflame.

She stood on a island barely wide enough for her feet while a maelstrom of red and orange swirled below her. She was spat at by showers of embers while fingers of fire licked at her ankles. No... those were not just flames, they were burning fingers. One by one, a hundred hands rose out of the fire all around her, charred and blackened bone showing through as the roasted, smouldering flesh fell away. They reached for her, as the terrible, remembered smell of cooking human flesh filled her lungs.

=========================================================================================================================

The stench of blood and alcohol were the first things to break through into Blaize's consciousness, while his world was still lost in the glare. When this subsided, a hoarse, ragged panting he could hear, in the few second when he remained blind. When his sight returned, he was face to face with his father, rage twisting the older man's features as he drew out a long dagger from the red ruin of his chest.

"Couldn't even do that right, could ya'?" the man said, half a sneer and half a growl. "Maybe I should show you better? COME HERE!"

=========================================================================================================================

Selena felt herself being pulled this way and that, her legs spread apart. Even in her dazed, still inebriated state, terror at the thought of being raped gripped her. She opened her eyes, and the scream died in her throat. She wasn't about to be raped. This was worse... much worse.

Priestesses of Gilliajlia crowded around her, their identical, hauntingly beautiful faces warped by hatred, making them seem old and foul. Every one of them had wet hands, soaked the the water of the sacrificial pools. They had her byt the wrists and ankles. They were pulling here head back be her hair; and at her feet, one of them held up a long, barbed blade before her eyes, a sick smile on her face.

"Time to put you out of business for good, you filthy little whore!"

========================================================================================================================

The water was rising around Will. Baring him up towards the stone ceiling, salt spray filling his nose and mouth as the surf ricocheted off the walls and crashed into him. He was soaked through ad freezing cold, his one solace being in the knowledge that he was a good swimmer. He could find a way out... in time, what time he had.

That was before something grabbed him around the waist, driving the air out of him, and tried to drag him back down. As he thrashed to try and get free, colourless faces with milky eyes and hair tangled with seaweed rose up around him. Even here, the mutineers would not leave him be. Will opened his mouth to cry out, only for one of them to force his head under the surface, filling his throat with freezing water.

===============================================================================================

Kaim's mother was dying in front of him. Too weak to even lift her arm, she moaned and drew desperate, rattling breaths upon the stained, stinking mattress that lay on the floor. Salvation stood beside her. Medicine, in a little glass bottle, no more than a few feet from her face, and yet she could not reach it herself. It was up to Kaim, to deliver to her what he could not give before.

Eagerly, he lurched forward, only to be yanked back by the cord around his neck. He had not noticed it before. He tried again, more carefully this time, stretching out his arm to its full length, his fingers oh so very nearly brushing the label of the bottle. He willed himself forward, desperately, but he could not reach, and the cord was tightening around his neck.

===============================================================================================

A woman stood opposite Skylar, a tall, pale woman with long blonde hair and dazzling amber eyes. Her arms were folded beneath an ample bosom, and she stood in a way that emphasised her rounded hips. She was beautiful.

A small mole could be seen just above her lip, as her mouth stretched into a smile, a smile that was not kind of inviting, but more like a leer. Those eyes shone with malice as the woman stretched out a long, slender am, and pointed at Skylar. Then, she threw back her head, and laughed, a piercing, cruel laughter that cut through Skylar, only to come bounding back off the walls and cut through her again. Her entire world became a storm of high-pitched mockery. It seemed like every single person in the world was pointing, and laughing, at the stunted little beast. It was a laughter that was more than human, stinging her like a swarm of vindictive hornets, coming back again and again.

Skylar never knew that laughter could hurt, physically hurt, so much.

===============================================================================================

Langston found himself face to face with a skeletal form, sitting with its knees curled up against its chest. Upon closer inspection, the skeleton in question was fashioned from brass, not bone, with thousands of metallic wires snaking through its joints, marshalled by hundreds of cogs and sprockets. When the humanoid form lifted its head, jerkily, to look at Langston, there were no eyes, no face at all in fact, only a maze of clockwork components covered by a translucent glass dome. Even so, there was something about the way it tilted its head that was imploring.

The creature tried to rise to its feet, but was having some difficulty, as it's legs appeared to not be moving properly. They jerked and sputtered, with tiny, silvery strands of wire hanging loose. With a bang, one of its knees emitted a gout of grey smoke. Slowly, it raised its arm towards Langston, pleading.

===============================================================================================

There was no colour in Artor Sandoval, as he gazed down upon Ezrah. Just like the old photographs that were the only clue the boy had ever had to his likeness, his features were all in tone.

"You little fool." he said, his voice a hoarse whisper. "That is all you are, you and all the rest. Fools dancing to the strings plucked by a madman. Well, they rent me to pieces for my blasphemy. It seems only appropriate..."

All of a sudden, Ezrah's arms and legs were pulled taught, as black, formless cords ensnared him by the wrists and ankles. What these binds were made from, or where they had come from, was hard to say. In Ezrah's peripheral vision, he could soo no point of origin for them, they just seemed to pull with a mind of their own, and Ezrah felt his muscle and tendons beginning to stretch.

===============================================================================================

Maggie's world appear to not have changed at all at first. She was still in the ancient, domed vault. All her travelling companions still encircled it, and at the centre the old stone font still stood, the orb of light hovering above it, now dull enough to look upon again. The others were discussing what to do next.

"It must be some kind of puzzle."

"There are doors all around us, but which one..."

"What about this big stone basin here."

"Isn't it obvious?" spoke Will, his voice exaggerated, somehow seeming more imperious than it had before. "That basin's meant for blood. We need to give a blood sacrifice before the light will show us the way again."

"But how much blood will we need?"

"No chances!" sneered Ezrah "I say we picks one of us, one who'll ne'er be missed by nothin', and slit their throat."

One by one, all heads turned towards Maggie.

========================================================================================================================

Now on ground level, Minerva skipped happily through the crown of transfixed and terrified youngsters, as they all battles with horrors only they (and she) could see. Whistling a merry tune and giggling to herself, she came up on the basin in the centre of the room. With a flick of her wrist, she produces a small blade from her right sleeve, rolled up her left one, and slashed. She hummed tunefully to herself as the basin filled up with blood, in rhythmic stops and starts.

 

[Ruedyn]

"Who're you ugly fucks? Where did- B-back off!" Giles stumbled back a step, fucking weird homeless people just appeared, with some fat fuck in the middle with some cards. That was Giles shtick! He growled as his eyes passed over each figure, taking in as much as he could. They were creepy, and unnerving, and he suddenly felt like running.

Were... they triplets? Did he know them? He'd fucking remember them, especially the rich fat **** in the middle. He looked around the near black room, trying to find the others, help, salvation, he missed the warm glow of that... flare. Probably on an oil path or something, burning as it passed through. That had to be what it was, or at least something like it. The two approached quickly, he had to tear himself from his thoughts.

Magic wasn't real.

The hand grasping his coat's lapel was.

Giles brought his hands up to his, the junkie ************ it looked like. The other one was on the ground, after Giles took a step back, he seemed almost pitiful in a way. They all looked so fucking similar, and why was he SO FUCKING STRONG?! He back peddled quickly, falling down and ripping a bit of his coat. His hat fell next to him, his cards spilling out of his sleeves. He scraped his hand over one, grasping it and launching it at his target, he was proud of his aim. It managed to nail him in the head, he reared back slightly but... well, it was just a card hitting him. Giles used his opportunity to get to his feet, slipping by the junkie with ease. A dull look was in his eyes, from what he could see, he seemed to be on a "Vacation" up there... Giles knew the feeling. Probably couldn't feel a thing really.

His thoughts were interrupted by the Oozing One, grabbed his ankle and brought him down to the ground, slapping his head against the stonework of the ground. His ears were filled with the steady ring of pain, as he flopped onto his back, propping himself up with his elbows. He needed to see his enemies, even though everything was dark and hazy... Yet he could see. More enemies? ... No, they looked real against his enemies, both stumbling towards him. They seemed almost see through one second, and real the next as the backdrop faded. He hit the ground hard or something...

He brought up his knee, launching his foot into the mouth of the Oozing one, feeling the pus burst out onto his foot. He shook, partly from disgust, another part in just happiness. It had to hurt his face more than his leg, though his face felt like a fucking wet brick. Still... he heard him moaning, he kept up his charge. Giles panicked, kicking the offender in the face again and again and again, hoping against hope to stop his progress. He felt his heel go through, almost, he felt it scrap against bone... His teeth. He chomped down, hard, he could feel him rip through flesh,

"OH, YOU FU- AARGH, HRNNNG!" Giles brought his leg back, dragging the man as he tried to scoot back out of the way. He could feel the flesh give way, a snap decision, Giles flopped over again, twisting his ankle and the man. He shrieked out in pain,

"GAH, DIE DIEDIEDIEDIE," using his other foot to kick him in the temple. Finally, mercifully, he released him, he couldn't tell why. He didn't care either, he tried to scramble to his feet, quickly remembering his leg. Giles let out some noise, a growl mixed with another yelp of pain as he almost came down to the earth. He caught himself with his hands, scrambling away again.

"Whuh?"

The world faded in and out in rhythm again, he could see in front of him now. More people, squirming and fighting things, he could see the shadow of fire cackling, a gang of ethereal little men around what looked like the shadow of Sparrow. He saw something that interested him in the weirdest way, as well. A woman, the glint of a blade, the faint echo of a whistle coming from her. He felt it was all important, but at the moment... He turned around to see the two, the one seemed right as rain once again, the STD one was on his feet. Shambling horrors, the both of them, where was their third....

There he was. In the back, with his sharky, shit eating grin. Spilling money and playing with the cards, Giles hated him. He hated the idea of getting too close to him. The opposite direction had the woman with the knife, could she help? He could get the knife from her, probably, he could kill these people. They deserved it, they needed it, He scrambled and stumbled forward, resorting to using his arms to help him walk, dragging his leg behind him. She began to grow fainter, so did her sound, and the knife, he needed her knife to end this. He continued to where she was as she disappeared from view,

"T-t-the kn-n-nife. PLEASE!"

 

[The Funslinger]

Spoiler

Will struggled hard against the mottled hand that had knocked his hat askew and taken an iron grip in his hair. His fingers broke the surface of the water and hit only air. Doing the only thing he could, Will grabbed the wrist of the hand holding him down. Twisting his entire body, Will brought his feet up to slam into the ribs of his immediate assailant. The water slowed him, but the blow connected well and his attacker's grip loosened.

Kicking again, Will swam deeper, and his ears popped from the water pressure. Through the blur of the water, he could see other shapes, other attackers moving towards him. Their milky white eyes leaped out through the fug of the water. Righting himself, he sped upwards, between them, past them and broke the surface, inhaling loudly in a huge gasp of air. Sensing the mutineers moving towards him again, Will plunged his head underwater, bringing his legs up, and kicked off the stone ceiling as the water connected with it, pushing off hard and rocketing down. But they were all around him now, gliding through the water with unnatural swiftness. One had his ankles, and the other one put his arms about Will's torso in a cruelly tight bear hug, trying to squeeze the hard won air out of his lungs. The salt in the water was burning his eyes now, and he felt like his head was going to burst as their combined weight drove them deeper into the watery depths.

What was this? Where were the others? It was the same stone chamber they'd walked into, but he was alone and this water had materialized out of thin air. It was some other cruel test, like the lizard, but certainly this one would kill him. The hell kind of magic was this?

 

[lacktheknack]

<spoiler=Muzak><youtube=tY92NAdGaR4&autoplay=1>

Andra couldn't even scream.

It had all happened so suddenly that she didn't even have time to adjust to the explosion of fire that engulfed her.

The fiery hands reached for her, occasionally caressing her with horrifying heat. She stood stock still, feeling the fire wrapping around her ankles, up her legs and flicking her breasts and back. Her mouth hung open as her eyes glazed over. Her chest burned intensely.

ALL IS WRONG ALL IS WRONG

The constant internal bantering voices were gone. The insufferably patient one gave way to a hollow shriek, while the irritating and cynical one contented itself with flashing Andra's life before her eyes.

HERE STANDS ANDRA, PRIESTESS OF GILLIAJLIA.

You're in the tavern again, the boiler is broken...

Andra was sweating before, but now the liquid poured from her pores as if the ocean itself was trapped in the confines of her healthy skin.

HERE STANDS ANDRA, THE HATED OUTCAST MIDWIFE.

Everything simply turned off. Andra didn't have the faculties to deal with what she was witnessing. She stood in cold, blissful apathy until something seemed to drag her back to reality.

It's like when you stole Father's lighter and burned yourself... twice...

Whatever the horrible burning hands belonged to, they began to scream, soft and barely audible now, but rising in volume.

NO NO NO NO STOP PLEASE NO

Tears poured from her eyes. The heavy back-alley cosmetics layered on her face had somehow survived the sewers, but they couldn't take more of this.

HERE STANDS ANDRA, THE TROD-UPON SEAMSTRESS.

The lead priestess threatened you with a red-hot poker for delivering a deformed child... the heat feels so similar...

The cheaply ground powders and pastes mixed with Andra's sweat and tears, loading into thick droplets that began to course off her skin and down onto her chest. The smell was suffocating, and she wanted to vomit, but she found she had nothing to throw up.

Everything blinked out again. Again, she stood with a strange contentment encapsulating her before being rudely pulled back to a debilitating awareness of the fire that threatened to drown her.

HERE DIES ANDRA, THE CASTOFF THAT WAS HATED

The flaming hands reached her face. All parts of her felt as though they were burning. Her brain reeled at the pure overload of what her skin and flesh reported. She attempted to shut down again, a dull aching thought remaining that she could at least maintain her calm and measured posture and demeanor to her death. Once again, something grabbed hold of her serene deadness and pulled her back to reality. The horrible reality where she wasn't calm and she wasn't measured. She was crying and sweating horrendously, and her mouth was open in a series of wordless shrieks.

Chunks of foundation and liquid shadow fell wet from her face onto her clothing. She felt strings of the goop dripping from her lips, nose and chin.

DIE PLEASE DIE PLEASE DIE PLEASE DIE PLEASE

As she attempted to retreat into herself once again, attempting to escape the hands that reached for her face, the voice that recounted her burnings suddenly took a different thought process.

Why do I still have clothes in this fire?

Why do I feel so much pain in my normally numb area?

 

[Fappy]

Spoiler: GREAT JUSTICE

No... NO! This couldn't be happening! What was going on?! How did she get here?! HOW HAD THEY FOUND HER!? Those, horrible, disgusting vermin, pulling at her limbs and violating her flesh. Had they come to finish the job they'd started so long ago? They'd already cut her open and took from her the very essence of her humanity and now they wanted, what? They'd already tainted her womb! What more could they possibly do?!

Then she saw the blade.

"Time to put you out of business for good, you filthy little whore!"

"N-N-N-NO! N-NO! STOP! F-F-FOR THE LOVE OF THE GODS, P-PLEASE!" She screeched, tears streaming down her face as she struggled against their superior might. They meant to mutilate her. They meant to escalate their sin to heights unthinkable. They meant to rend asunder what little was left of her soul.

True, Selena hadn't placed much value on her own life. Under different circumstances, perhaps she'd welcome such a gruesome, final fate. And yet, she couldn't stomach this horror. She couldn't let this continue. Not like this. Not from them.

An animalistic fury overtook her, not for the sake of her own survival but to ensure those who'd destroyed her life got their due. She wouldn't lie down and die while these sick pigs had their way with her. She wouldn't let them spill her blood and taint her soul in the name of their profane doctrine.

"FUCK YOUR WHORE GOD!" Selena screamed as the knife closed in, caressing her inner thigh, mere centimeters from its intended target. As the priestess teased her, the tip of the blade slowly pierced her skin, drawing blood. "NO!" The warm sensation of fresh blood running down the back of her leg sent shivers down her spine. This was just like it had been before. The laughter... that sadistic laughter. How was such evil permitted to exist? Hadn't the gods the power to prevent such things?

They can't help you now. No one can help you now.

She could feel a cold sensation inside of her now. It was over. There was nothing that could be done. She bit down on her bottom lip causing blood to gush out over the side of her cheek and into her mouth. She refused to scream any longer. She refused to give them that satisfaction.

"Do you feel that? That's Gilliajlia's purity. That's the blessing of a god, my dear! Power enough to cure you of your blighted soul! Drink deep it's glory! Take it into your womb and be beautiful again!" She could feel the blade sinking in deeper.

[HEADING=1]"NO!"[/HEADING]

Her body writhed violently; her rage and despair manifesting into a shockingly powerful kick that wrested her ankle from its constraint. Her shin slammed against the side of the knife-wielding priestess' face, fracturing her jaw on impact and sending her staggering to the side against the neighboring priestess. Her legs free, she rolled over the right side of the table, baring her teeth down on the wrist of the priestess grappling her right wrist. Her and the last priestess, being pulled off-balance, relinquished their holds as Selena rolled across the floor.

Spotting the knife on the ground between her and the priestess she'd initially broken free of, she dropped to one knee to scoop it up, meeting the priest on the ground as she dove for it; the knife now lodged deep in her gut. The woman's eyes went wide, but she did not appear to scream. If she had, Selena couldn't hear her over the sound of her own wails. What followed was a confused blur of splattered blood and twisted flesh. Selena held the knife above her head, delivering savage blows upon the chests of her attackers, "WHERE'S YOUR GOD NOW!" She screamed out in words she did not feel belonged to her.

When she came upon the last priestess, the one that had cut into her, it was with a twisted grin, "Gilliajlia be praised, for the almighty god has sent me to carry out Her divine will!" She fell upon the woman, drowning her screams in blood as she penetrated the priestess' stomach and chest over and over and over again. "YOU ARE STILL NOT BEAUTIFUL! I CAN FIX IT! I CAN FIX IT! GILLIAJLIA HAS WILLED IT SO!"

Naked, and now alone, Selena sat atop the motionless corpse, bathed in its blood, for what seemed like an eternity. Her senses were dimmed and it felt as if she'd transcended to another plane of existence. The cathartic feeling of bringing vengeance down upon the wicked. Bringing justice to those that had destroyed her life... it was euphoric. It was a long while before Selena had realized she'd lost herself in manic laughter. It felt so good. Better than anything, in fact. Better than the finest wine or the strongest orgasm. So good, in fact, that it terrified her.

What was it she was feeling? What force had she conjured to bring herself such unfathomable pleasure? Somehow she knew. Somehow, deep within the confines of her soul, Selena knew that the spring she drank from was tainted in darkness. In sin. She'd committed evil. Had her soul been damned?

The tears returned as she dropped her face into the palms of her hands. She was alone among the results of her sin. She had none but the corpses of those who would see her mutilated. That would see her damned.

And that was it. That was what she knew, in her heart, that she feared most: the soul-shattering grief of loneliness. Ever since her exodus to the Drowned District she'd been alone and she knew that, even if she walked this dark path, even if she joined the Shroud, she'd remain that way. Though strangely, something within her told her that it was... okay. So long as she'd be able to deliver justice to those that had wronged her she'd be content. She'd find a purpose.

She got to her feet, the foreign blood coating her flesh like a kind of bodysuit, and surveyed her work. She'd make this a reality someday.

They would pay. Every one of them.

 

[Daystar Clarion]

"So you're a little girl eh?" The pulped mass of Badger's head muttered. "Explains why t'place always stank like whore when you were 'round."

Sparrow clenched her jaw, eyes wide with fear as she backed away from the grotesque sight of splintered bone and oozing flesh. Her eyes never left Badger, even when her back hit the wall, her hands searching frantically for something, anything.

"You can't weasel ya way outta this one, whore." The boy and his cronies moved in closer, forming a semicircle around her as the blocked off all escape. The girl's breathing quickened as panic began to set in. "You fell, I saw ya fall, there's no way you're still alive." Her eyes wide as the words fell from her lips in a whisper.

"Fall? Silly lil' Sparrow, I didn't fall, ya pushed me remember?" The mashed face of the boy twisted into what looked like a smile. "Or did you forget that?" He chuckled, crossing his arms across his chest.


Back still firmly pressed against the wall, Sparrow's face hardened. "Ya forced me hand Badger." She muttered through gritted teeth. "Ya were chasing me down like cats chase mice, what was I s'pose to do, let you kill me?"

Badger burst out laughing, blood spattering on the ground. "Chase? The chase was over as soon as I was hangin' from that roof." He leaned in close, the stink of blood forced its way into Sparrow's throat. "You could 'ave just walked away, I would have fell anyway, you could have just walked away, but you didn't" Slamming a hand on the wall above Sparrow's shoulder, Badger leaned in further. "You murdered me, Sparrow, just like one day, someone's gonna murder your whore of a mother."

Sparrow mouth was ajar slightly as her gaze stayed fixed on the quivering mass of flesh. "My... My mum? She has nothing to do with this, you leave 'er alone!" her voice cracked.

Badger laughed again, a sickening gurgle emanated from his ruined cranium. "Your weak willed mum? The one ya so love to look down on? Wouldn't I be doin' ya a favour?" Leaning back off the wall, Badger held his arms wide. "We'll all 'ave a go first obviously, won' we lads?" He chuckled as the thugs called out in agreement. "But we'll clean up after we're done, an' ya won' 'ave to worry about her any more, then ya can take over her 'business', 'cos ya sure as shit ain't gonna get any more work 'round the District." Taking a step back, Badger crossed his arms over his chest. "Maybe we should get a demonstration first, eh? Come on, kit off."

Sparrow's hands balled into fists. "I'm not a whore." She muttered, her eyes narrowing.

"Fine, how's 'bout this, you don' take ya clothes off, and we kill both you an' your whore mother, but if you do, maybe we can see to it that ya little mummy is safe to whore out the rest of 'er days, wonderin' where 'er lil' Faye got to."

What was this? How was this happening? Wasn't she just in the sewers? Sparrow couldn't wrap her mind around what was happening, Badger was dead, she watched him die, she made sure he died. Now he was here threatening the only thing in the world she ever cared about?

'Mummy...'

Sparrow furrowed her brow. "How 'bout I kill you again, instead?" She whispered threateningly as she pulled the dagger from inside her sleeve.

"Watch out lads! We've got a little pig sticker over 'ere!" He roared, as his thugs burst into laughter and jeers. "Ya think ya can take all of us?" He chuckled, holding out his arms.

Sparrow bit her bottom lip, he eyes shifting to the ground. If she fought, she'd lose, she'd lose and they'd kill her mother, but if she gave them what they wanted...

Looking up, her eyes met Badger. "Why are you doin' this t'me, why can't ya jus' leave me alone?" Her eyes were dry, but there was a sadness in them.

 

[The Funslinger]

Spoiler: tunes

Will was twisting furiously in the grip of his assailants, but the water was dulling his movements and the two mutineers were incredibly strong. Opening his eyes in the burning salt water, he saw a third one drifting over to him. Even through the water, he could see the grin, full of yellow, broken teeth.

The man drew a dagger, its edge more jagged than sharp, and raised it. Will struggled even harder than he thought possible, and one of his arms broke free. The dagger plunged towards him and his hand came up, knocking it away. But not without the blade biting hard into his palm. Crimson blossomed out into the water and the salt burned the wound. Still twisting, somehow he was free. His assailants were still there, but somehow less corporeal. He was sinking now, the water seeming to buoy him less. And he could hear voices.

A scream split his ear and he looked down, nearly yelling out himself. The floor was immersed in flames that seemed to co-exist with the water. Only they weren't there and others were standing unscathed. Then they were there again, and there was the burned lady in a small patch that was slowly closing. He had to do something.

Swimming and letting the sinking sensation carry him down, he reached out to Andra. His bloody hand closed on her shoulder, and suddenly there was hissing as the flame and water seemed to realize each other's existence.

Andra tried valiantly to pull back into herself, to let the flames finally take her. Again, she was pulled out... this time, by a hand on her shoulder.

She looked up in shock into the face of the sailor from the group, who was clearly in great distress. There was a horrible red aura around his hand on her shoulder. No... not an aura... a liquid.

A liquid diffusing through water.

LOTS of it.

The screaming demons that reached from the fire let out a collective howl of pure horror as a tidal wave of water fell on her, engulfing her and lifting her away from the floor. The fire was instantly doused, and the water boiled into steam immediately. Andra and the sailor were thrown out of the water on scalding bubbles of steam that burst into the air, allowing them to fall into the dwindling water. The water was still cold, refreshing Andra's senses instantly, but it was warming as the hellfires tried to start again, with licks of flame blasting coloumns of water into steam before being closed over again in a display as beautiful and frightening as it was utterly impossible.

The water level was falling. Fast.

Getting to his feet and shaking himself off, Will offered Andra his hand and pulled her up as he watched the decimated flames begin to regenerate. "Are you okay?"

"NO! NO I'M NOT!" Andra rasped the words louder than she had done in years. Another lick of fire burst through the knee-high water nearby. Will seemed real enough, but the water seemed like something from a dream. She guessed she had less than a minute before the fire boiled away the last of the water... and it was getting hotter.

Will looked around feverishly at the flames. What was this? He'd been submerged in ocean water, and Andra, coated in burns was surrounded by fire. It was ridiculous but... could it be some trick of the mind?

Will wasn't one to believe in magic, but if it existed, it must be powerful enough to make someone be harmed physically by their own mind... he could see others through the flames, seemingly untouched by them. And in the middle, a woman. He could hear her humming tunefully over the crackle of the flames. Andra wasn't noticing any of it.

But why was she noticing him? Why was he seeing any of it? Somehow, he was in her mental trial. He wasn't sure if the flames would touch him, but he didn't doubt they would burn Andra to a crisp.

It seemed to jump out at him with startling clarity through the flames. The trickle of crimson flowing from the woman's arm into the basin. The glint of silver in her hand.

"You! At the basin! What is this?!"

Andra stared. Basin? What basin?

"WHO ARE YOU TALKING TO?"

The water was uncomfortably warm, now. Two more columns of steam blasted away.

"So you can't see them..."

So it WAS something to do with the mind. And that was definitely blood in the basin. It couldn't be a coincidence...

"Andra, do you have a knife?"

"No! Why?!"

"I think you need to make yourself beed," Will replied, edging away from the encroaching flames, although he was at least relatively certain they wouldn't hurt him.

"I guess my blood on you brought us together, but all I know is I'm free of all that water, and that happened when I got this!" he held up his hand. "I can see the others, too!"

So that was what the red liquid on her shoulder was. Andra didn't question anything, she was too frightened. She immediately held up her arm and clawed viciously at it with her other hand. Scar tissue, scabs and thin tendons of skin broke away with little effort and a thin trail of red oozed from her scratches. The fires immediately gave up, bare having the strength to overcome the increasingly ethereal water. In a flash, she could see all the others locked in their own torments and a mysterious figure bleeding into a basin.

She had escaped. Again.

Will exhaled as he took in the others. They all seemed to be up against difficult odds. But his eyes were drawn to the woman in the center of the room, still humming manically. As he passed reluctantly by Selena, retrieved his hat (tipping a quantity of water out of it that disappeared before it hit the ground) and returned to Andra, he watched this woman.

"I don't think there's much we can do to help the others. If she did that to us, who knows what else she's capable of? I'll try if one of them looks to be about to die, but I think they have to find their own way out."

 

[Daystar Clarion]

"Why am I doing this?" Badger let out a disgusting chortle, a chunk of flesh coming loose from his ruined head and slapping distastefully onto the ground. "How many people have you killed, lil' Faye? How many lives cut short because they got in your way?"

The regret in Sparrow's eyes intensified as she crossed her arms across her chest, holding herself. "I... I didn'... They would 'ave killed me, Badger!" The boy let out another roar of laughter. "How many of those only tried t'kill ya after you provoked 'em, how many of 'em would still be alive if you had kept ya mouth shut and jus' moved on?"

"That's not the same thing! They would 'ave hurt others, killed others! Was I supposed to jus' let 'em do that?!" Sparrow shouted, still holding herself as she squatted down. "It's not the same thing." She whispered.

She was in the right wasn't she? Surely killing those who would harm others worked towards the greater good, killing those who cause nothing but pain and suffering in a world already filled to the brim with such, was a good thing? Sparrow had read books, she had read stories about people, people who would fight evil wherever it could be found, and slay it, so that others could live happily, so that innocent people could live happily.

As if the monstrosity had read her mind, Badger chimed in. "Tut tut, what would mother dearest think about lil' Faye tryin' to justify murder eh?"

Sparrow flinched as she felt something touched her shoulder. "Is it true, Faye?" Quickly turning her head, Sparrow's eyes found her mother's, the woman was knelt beside her. The girl resembled her mother greatly, the same mousey hair, but longer and tied into a loose ponytail that fell over her right shoulder. The same nose, the same blue eyes, but whilst Sparrow's were piercing and bright, her mother's were dull and listless.

"Did you murder those people?" Her voice was soft and affectionate, the kind of voice that sang children to sleep at night, children like Sparrow.

"Mum, I..." Sparrow's eyes began to well with tear, her bottom lip quivering as she tried her hardest not to sob. "I'm sorry mummy!" She bawled as she wrapped her arms around her mother's waist, burrowing her face into her chest. "Mummy I'm so sorry!" She sobbed as she felt a familiar touch caress her hair. Badger and his mob had gone silent, watching over the mother and daughter.

"Shhh, shhh, it's okay, mummy knows, mummy understands."

Sparrow continued to weep, tears streaming down her face. "I'm so sorry." She whispered, her voice cracking as she struggled to find breath for the words.

"There, there, come now." Gently peeling her daughter away from her, the mother cupped Sparrow's face in her hands, wiping away the tears with her thumbs. With a warm smile, she leaned forward, gently kissing Sparrow on the nose. "Stop cryin' my lil' Faye, Faye."

Her face soaked with tears, and snot running from her nose, Sparrow smiled weakly as her mother comforted her. "You... you're not mad at me?"

"Of course not my lil' Sparrow, why would I be? You're my baby and I love you." She removed her hands from Sparrow's face, wrapping her arms around her shoulders as she pulled her into a tight embrace.

After a few moments, something clicked in the back of the girl's mind. "Lil' Sparrow..."

Spoiler: Listen!

Pushing the woman away, Sparrow quickly got to her feet, taking a few steps back, she brandished the blade once more. "What did you jus' say?"

A hurt feeling came over her mother's face. "What's wrong, my lovely?"

"Sparrow, you called me Sparrow. You never call me Sparrow!" She held out the knife. "This isn't real! Where am I?!" She demanded. Looking to her side, her eyes fixed on Badger as he began to slowly clap.

"Clever girl." He said sincerely, a small stream of blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth. "Get 'er." He said simply.

"What t'fuck is this? What's go-WAAGH!" Her eyes on Badger, the false mother had taken her opportunity, tackling the girl to the ground, she straddled the girl's waste, wrestling the dagger from out of her hand.

"Lil' *****, I knew I should have left you in the ditch to die! You've been nothing but trouble since that bastard planted you inside me!" The woman screamed. Sparrow cried out as the dagger found its way into her left shoulder, her hands quickly wrapping around the false mother's wrists as she tried to push it deeper.

Gritting her teeth, eyes full of fury, she slowly managed to push the woman's arms away from her, the dagger leaving her shoulder, quivering as the girl's blood began to well from the wound. As if a door had been opened, Sparrow's ears were suddenly filled with cries and wails, some of the voices she recognised.

For what felt like an eternity, Sparrow struggled against the woman. Grunting with exertion, Sparrow's eyes bored into the false mother's, "At least you're like her in one way..." She shifted her hands to the woman's, turning the blade slowly. "You don' 'ave..." She grunted as the point of the blade now faced the false mother. "...the bollocks..." with one last push, Sparrow forced the blade. "TO FOLLOW THINGS THROUGH!" The woman howled in agony as the blade pierced its way into her chest.

Quickly pushing the dying woman off her, Sparrow scurried to her feet. The semicircle of goons had disappeared, instead she saw the squirming and screaming forms of the other Shroud searchers, all fighting against invisible forces, as well as another form she didn't recognise, cloaked, standing over a basin.

"What th' fuck is goin' on?" She muttered, wincing as blood poured from her shoulder. Only Badger and the corpse of the false mother remained.

"You surprise me girl." Badger spoke clearly, his accent completely disappeared. "Do you have the conviction, I wonder?" Badger slowly faded from sight, with what looked to be a smirk on his face. Sparrow turned slightly, her eyes finding the corpse of the false mother, her dead eyes staring up at Sparrow, a small trickle of blood flowing from her mouth.

The girl's expression hardened as she stepped towards the corpse, no sooner had she removed the dagger, the corpse began to fade into nothing.

Turning her attention to her surrounding comrades, she closed an eye, gritting her teeth as the pain in her shoulder intensified.

"What 'ave we gotten ourselves in to?" She whispered in awe.

 

[Fappy]

Sparrow pushed her palm harder into her shoulder as she tried to stem the flow of blood streaming down her arm, crimson dotting the ground and she continued to take in the scene around here. Her eyes fell on the Lashani woman. She didn't seem to be moving.

Shuffling her way over to her, Sparrow walked to her side, looking up at the woman's face, her eyes were unfocused, like she was looking at something a hundred miles away.

"Selena?" Sparrow whispered, reaching out with her bloodied hand, she brushed the woman's arm.

Selena didn't respond to Sparrow's call at first, continuing to stare into the vast nothingness before her. Then she felt something touch her arm. In a flash, Selena twisted her body around, grabbing Sparrow by the collar with one hand and slamming the small girl up against the side of the table. With her other hand, she held the knife up close to Sparrow's face, a wild look about her eyes.

Caught completely off guard, Sparrow could do little to resist the woman, she called out in surprise as she was pinned to the table.

The girl winced, gritting her teeth as agony pierced through her shoulder. "Selena, it's me, it's Sparrow." She whispered, wide eyed as she lost herself in the woman's insane gaze. What had she seen? What had she been forced to do? Fighting every instinct she had, Sparrow let her hands fall to her side, the dagger slipping from her slick grip and clattering on the ground.

"What did you see?" She whispered, a look of sadness in her eyes.

Selena said nothing at first, doing little more than returning the girl's gaze. She studied her for a time as if trying to recall who it was she was looking at. What had she seen? Darkness. But now, nothing more than a scared little girl. She was not a part of this. Justice did not require this girl's blood.

Maintaining her hold, Selena looked down to the knife in her hand, the knife that had been inside her. Gradually, Selena's grasp weakened and her body began to tremble. She let the knife clatter to the ground besides Sparrow's and dropped to her knees. Looking up at Sparrow now, tears began streaming down her face as she wimpered, "Kill them... I kill them all.... All of them. T-they... they deserved it!" She dropped her face into her hands and began sobbing uncontrollably.

It wasn't until now that Sparrow noticed what remained of the sin Selena referred to.

The girl's mouth fell slightly agape as she took in the massacre around her. Some of the corpses resembled little more than piles of meat. Pushing herself away from the table, she knelt next to the woman, unsure of how to react.

"What... What did they do?" Her voice cracking.

Selena was shaking violently now as a torrent of tears ran through her fingers. When she felt Sparrow's warmth nearby, she reached out and embraced the girl, burying her face into her small shoulder. She attempted to answer the girl through the knot in her throat, "T-t-they came back for me! Why!? WHY!? They already hurt me! They already cut me! They t-t-t-t-took my b-baby away! BUT THAT WASN'T ENOUGH!" She clutched Sparrow's arms. "They t-t-tainted me! They took it out of me so that I could never insult their God ever again! THEIR WHORE GOD! B-b-but that wasn't enough...."

She pulled herself away from Sparrow's shoulder and looked her in the eye, "They found me again. S-somehow, t-th-they found me again and they wanted more!" She pointed to the barbed knife on the ground. "They put that inside me..."

The girl's eyes widened as what the woman was saying washed over her. "They killed ya baby?" She turned her head to look at the corpses, and then to the bloodied spiked knife on the ground.

'She doesn't know this is fake.'

"This isn't real, none of this real, it's a trick, they're tryin' t'rick us, tryin' to drive us mad." She said slowly, raising a hand she hesitated slightly before cupping the woman's cheek. "You didn't kill anyone."

"Wh-what?" Selena stared into the girl's eyes. "I didn't kill?" It wasn't until now that she noticed the blood Sparrow had smeared on her. It appeared.... brighter than that of the priestess' blood. Glancing around the ritual chamber, she noticed a strange wave-like phenomenon wash over the corpses. And then she saw the dancing shadows. "What's happening?" She muttered, her tears all but gone now.

"I dunno, but... they know our minds, they..." Sparrow furrowed her brow as her eyes lost some of their focus. "They tried t'make my mum kill me." She winced slightly as she pressed her hand into her shoulder. "She wasn't my mum though, not really."

Selena's eyes wandered as Sparrow spoke. She realized now that she hadn't in fact been naked and coated in the blood of her attackers. That was a relief. Such a sight would have terrified the girl... unless she saw it too. As the illusion began to fade around them, she looked back at Sparrow, "Wh-what does this all mean? They didn't make me kill them did they? Was that me? Did I do that...? Did I want that?"

Sparrow raised her eyes, shaking her head gently "I dunno, maybe it's different for everyone, that... thing only attacked me when I figured it was a fake." Grabbing her dagger, she stood up. "Whatever it is, It has somethin' t'do with the Shroud." Looking down at the woman, Sparrow smiled slightly. "They must not like us very much." Tucking the dagger into her belt, she held out a bloodied palm to the woman.

Selena remained on the floor for a moment trapped in her own mind. Was she really capable of doing all of that? Would it have truly... felt that good? Selena was afraid of the answer. Looking up at Sparrow, she reached out to her and was pulled to her feet, "Thank you." She muttered as she took in their new surroundings. It didn't appear they were trapped within the illusion any longer. "Should we help them?" She asked, looking around at the other initiates as they struggled against their own phantoms.

"I dunno." She muttered, tilting her head slightly as she smirked at the woman. "They might try to stab me." Furrowing her brow, she bit her bottom lip. "I think they oughta know though." She nodded at the cloaked figure standing over the basin.

 

[Arrogancy]

Blaize stood there. He couldn't move. His father was dead, he had killed him himself almost three years ago. And yet he wasn't. When the shock wore off, Blaize dove his hands into his pockets, searching for his knife.

No. No, no no. He thought, wordlessly mouthing. Of course he didn't have the dagger, he looked at his father, one meaty hand wrapped around the hilt of the knife. For an instant, Blaize knew he was thirteen years old again. He had nicked that dagger earlier today, he had sat in an alley, staring at it, passing it back and forth between his hands, before making his decision.

His father rose from the bed, looking just as he had when he died. Greasy long, dark hair trailed down to his shoulders, his nose was bent almost out of shape from all the scrapes he'd been in, missing a few teeth, the rest dark and yellowing. Blaize had almost forgotten how tall his father was, towering over the young boy, over six feet high.

"COME 'ERE!" Tarson shouted, lunging to his son with one hand, raising the dagger overhead with the other.

Blaize dodged his father, jumping backward, and rushing for the door to the room. He burst into the main room of his childhood house. "Home" wasn't a word he'd use to describe anywhere, especially not this place. It was a dingy two room shack with barely enough ventilation to have a fire pit. The wood was half-rotting where it wasn't covered in a layer of smoke, it was freezing in winter, sweltering in summer, and at any time of the year stank of alcohol, sewage, and misery.

He dodged past overturned and broken furniture so cheap and splintery Blaize sometimes thought that the carpenters who made it were blind and drunk. Behind, he could hear his father's heavy boots bang against the floor close behind him. But there was the door!

It doesn't matter, Blaize thought. So what if his father was still alive? It didn't change his decision. Killing the old bastard was just something he really wanted to do, his real decision was to leave, leave and never come back. He'd make good on that promise, father living or not, once he made it to the door. Just a little more and...Blaize prepared to reach for the doorknob, arm outstretched.

...There! He got the knob, fingers curling about it, hard turning as he skidded on the floor, readying for the second part of the sprint.

The doorknob refused to budge.

Blaize realized this a moment too late, and was already slowing for the sharp turn out of the house. A second later, he felt a heavy hand wrap around his neck.

The young boy was spun about and slammed against the wall by his father, who stared at him, hard in the eyes, with little more than pure malice. "Son, why do run from yer dear ole dad?" Tarson rumbled, mocking Blaize. He was close enough that Blaize could smell the thick, cheap alcohol on his foul breath.

Blaize didn't answer, couldn't answer. He just stood there, shivering in a fear he hadn't felt in years.

"Eh? Ya gonna answer, or are ya too stupid?" Blaize still didn't say anything. Then a fist landed, hard, in his gut. "ANSWER ME!"

After a fit of coughing, Blaize worked up the nerve to look his father back in the eyes. "You're..." He wheezed, "You're dead. I killed you."

His father laughed, "Do I look dead ta ya?" Blaize stared at the bloody hole in his father's chest, right where his heart should be. Tarson gave a cold smile, "Ya can't kill me Blaize. 'Specially not with some flimsy piss-ant dagger like this." He threw the blade contemptuously behind him.

Another punch, this time in his face, on the side of his mouth. Blaize felt some of his teeth shift awkwardly. Another blow and he'd be out a few teeth. Be careful not to swallow, He reminded himself.

"Looks like ya just can't learn, can ya boy?" His father continued, hitting him a few more times. "I raised ya, fed ya, kept ya in my home, and this is how ya repay me." He punctuated the list by raising Blaize a few inches off the ground, hand still tight at the boy's throat.

Blaize raised his own hands to his father's, trying to pry the older man's arm away from him. But he was too young, too small, too weak. His father was too strong, and there was nothing Blaize could do about it.

After a few seconds, holding his son in the air, slowly choking him, Tarson let Blaize down, loosening his grip, letting his son catch his breath. A second or two later, he ripped the bandages off Blaize's arm, exposing the old burn scars. Blaize tried to look away, but his father forced his head back, making him look at them.

"Las'time ya disobeyed me," His father began, his voice low and menacing, "I letcha off easy. This time, yer not gettin' off so light boy."

He turned to the fire pit in the center of the room, dragging his son along. There had been a minor fire, burning down in the pit a minute ago, now it was a roaring blaze. It climbed higher and higher, burning without fuel, almost licking the ceiling.

Blaize twisted and turned in his father's grip, desperate to escape. He searched about for something, anything he could use. His eyes fell to the knife, fallen underneath the table, he knew he'd only get one shot. Feeling left Blaize quickly as he planned out his next move. Deep breath, exhale, deep breath. One shot, no mistakes. Pick the right time.

His father turned back to Blaize, reaching toward him with his other hand, then Blaize struck. With his free hand he threw a punch straight to his father's chest, toward the wound that killed him.

Tarson let go, his eyes went wide, whether with shock or pain, Blaize couldn't say, but he had his chance. He ran from his father's grip, diving under the table toward the knife. His father wasn't put off-balance for long, and lunged for the boy quickly afterward.

"YOU LITTLE-" The older man began, clamping down on Blaize's legs. He was stopped a moment later when he was stabbed again, this time in the throat.

Blaize went wild once he had the dagger back. He cut and slashed and stabbed and damn the consequences. Hacking and slashing, he felt a strange sense of peace and calm. Whatever happened next, this moment, this second, was happening, and would stay with him.

After several minutes, Blaize got up, leaving behind his father's corpse a second time. The fire had died down, and everything seemed quiet. No, not quiet, he considered, silent. He took a deep breath. This wasn't the Drowned District, this wasn't real, whatever this was. Maybe it was briefly, but it wasn't now.

He made his was to the door, dagger still clutched in his fist, when he heard a wheeze and a fit of coughing behind him.

"Ya can't kill me boy." His father said, sitting up, and looking toward him. "Didn'tcha learn anythin'? I can't die. I'm a part of ya. I'm like yer own personal demon. Always," He pointed to his head, "Up 'ere."

Blaize paused, his hand on the doorknob, then slowly replied. "Maybe yer right. Maybe I'll never be rid a'ya, but that doesn't mean I hafta stay 'ere. I'm done with ya. Good bye." He turned the doorknob, and went through the door as his father called back to him one last time.

"We'll meet again. Yer kiddin' yerself if ya think I'm gone!"

 

[Rufio's Ghost]

Spoiler: Streff

The mechanical being was nothing short of a marvel. The machine was clearly the work of a master craftsman, with a design so complex it could almost be considered ornate. Even at rest, its small brass frame was buzzing with motion, the multitude of sprockets and cogs performing a myriad of tasks that Langston could not even begin to fathom. He stared in awe, entranced by the mere concept of the creature, swaying slightly to the rhythmic ticks and hums that emanated from deep within its frame.

With a quick halting motion, the being turned its head to face him. In all his years of study Langston had never encountered a machine that seemed so animate, so human. He could sense a mixture of curiosity and fear as the faceless being seemed to stare deep into his eyes, or perhaps something more than fear... was it pain?

Pinions and gears burst into a frenzy of motion as the unnamed creation lurched forward, wires pulling back and forth through its joints like silvery sinew. It kept it's gaze fixed on Langston, staggering towards him desperately.

"BANG"

A dark plume of smoke burst from one of its knees. It raised its hand toward Langston, pleading for help. Langston quickly began to move to the machine, speaking gently in an attempt to ease both of their fears, "It-It's okay. I'm Langston... I'm here to help."

The creature tilted it's head in response, throwing off its own balance. The bad knee bowed inward awkwardly causing the mechanical man to begin tipping over,

'Oh dear!'

Langston sprang towards the being, grabbing its hand in his own, and pulling forward, "It's okay, I-I got you." He tried to console the creature noting its increasing concern, "It's all going to be okay, I am going to bend down and have a look at your knee." He placed one of the being's hands on his shoulder, "Here, uh, hold... here, and just try to keep your balance. Okay?"

Langston slowly sank to one knee, allowing the machine to lean heavily upon his shoulders. He drew his face in close to the afflicted knee, immediately identifying the problem. One of the silvery wires had come lose and snagged in the knee joint, jamming the hinge and displacing a length of tubing. He looked up at the frightened machine a light reassuring smile spreading across his face, "It isn't bad friend, I can fix you."

A pleasant serenity washed over Langston, after having such an outlandish day it was nice to return to something familiar, something he was good at. He carefully began to pull on the problem wire, shaking it lightly as he coaxed it out from in between the hinged joint. He let the silvery wire dangle, instead focusing on moving the tubing back in line with its bolt. He kept his eyes on the silvery thread as he tightened the bolt around the tube, letting his mind wander.

Once the bolt was tightened he reached for both ends of the dangling wire,

'Alright, now all I have to do is tie this webbing together'

He paused confused by his train of thought,

'Webbing? What- I mean rope? No. Wire. I need to find a way to fasten this wire together. hrrmm....'

He bent the wire slightly in his hand, he didn't recognize the metal he was working with, but it seemed about as malleable as copper. Perhaps it also shared a similar melting point? Langston searched his pockets for his favorite lighter and found nothing...

'That's odd... I always have a light on me.'

Langston raised his hand to his forehead, pressing his fingers into his furrowed brow. He hadn't realized it before, but his head felt heavy, his thoughts were sluggish, shrouded in a thick fog.

'No- Langston, they took it when you came to the Drowned District. Just like that brute took your torch earlier today....
Wait, where's the brute? Is- Is this real?

The machine's hands tightened around his shoulders, causing pain to shoot up his neck and down his arm. Langston looked up quickly, sensing a dramatic increase in the creature's anxiety, "So-Sorry! I got distracted, I am almost done... I-I just need to connect this wire."

He pushed the thoughts aside, this 'man' needed his help right now; he could think of the brute later. Besides he has seen stranger things today- a man eating lizard, an unexplainable "portal", wind in the catacombs, and a floating ball of fire, was this really any more unbelievable.

He took both sides of the disconnected wire and began wrapping then ends together, without flame to mend the wire it was the best he could do. He began squeezing the wire to flatten out the awkward knot."I think that should do for now, it isn't a permanent fix so... please, be careful."

Air hissed through the pipes in the machine's chest, sounding more like a sigh. Langston rose to his feet, looking intently at the creature as it 'sighed with relief'. He receded back into his mind tackling the next problem,

'Now... Where am I? The others? Well, we all walked in th-'

The unnamed creation lurched forward once more.

'Swhwiiicht, kerkerkerker'

'CLANK'

The machine emitted a shrill sound akin to a pained scream as a section of gears in its torso were brought to a grinding halt.
the humanoid form fell heavily on Langston, almost pushing him over. He grappled the mechanical creature, slowly lowering it to the ground.

' Wha- What happened? I did everything right, didn't I?'

The creature looked up and Langston quickly averted his gaze, instead looking for the problem area. He dared not meet his gaze... he could already sense its fears as if they were his own. The knot had been drawn up deep into the creature's pelvis and had caught itself on a cog. The cog was completely stopped up, rendering the entire leg useless.

Oh, no. no. no. I- huh..... Langston, It's going to be okay. You can do this. I can fix this- it's okay. I can fix this.


"It's all going to be okay - uhm- just stay calm and try not to move," he mumbled aloud, in attempt to reassure himself more than the suffering machine. He pressed his fingers into the gap where the leg and torso met. Sweat began to bead on his brow and drip down his face, his hand sinking deeper into the mechanical labyrinth. The 'man' began to jar and convulse violently emitting a high-pitched squeak. Langston let out a surprised yelp as a variety of gears began moving, tearing and pulling at the flesh from his hand and fingers. He gritted his teeth, letting his hand take the brunt of the damage as his fingers pressed against the knot, slowly sliding it off the problem gear. The gear snapped back into action, pulling strips of skin along with it. Langston quickly pulled his hand out of the labyrinthine network and drew it toward his chest. He gripped it tightly with his other hand, trying to numb the pain and stop the bleeding.

He closed his eyes, focusing on the low hum that reverberated from deep within the machine's chest, attempting to ignore his throbbing mangled hand. The smell of blood reached his nostrils and an image manifested beneath his shut lids. The disordinate humming lost its metallic edge, taking on an organic quality... it wasn't coming from the robot, but from a greenish figure who danced, bounding gaily around a sacrificial font. Shadowy forms writhed close by... perhaps they were broken as well? Or perhaps they were the others. That's right! Those he had travelled with, they needed his help as well.

Langston extended his arm, his hand grazing across the floor as he tried to reach out to the struggling figures. His hand was meet with what felt like a hot grimy liquid...

His eyes snapped open to see the machine laying on it's back sputtering weakly, a crude oil flowed freely over its neck and chest. It turned to face Langston, the rhythmic ticks becoming fast and short as the helpless metallic creature was gripped with terror. It tried to reach out to him once more- stopping sort as it's pistons became stuck, their fast pumping motion curdling the grimy substance into a thick paste.

'DAMN IT, GODDAMN IT!'

Langston scrambled over to its side, his voice thick with desperation, "I'm so sorry! Please forgive me, I-I'll try to stop the leak, but you're going to have to work with me. Please...please stay still, it's all going to be okay." He scanned it's chest, searching for the source of the nameless sludge. A tube at the base of the neck had come lose, probably a result of the robot's thrashing about. Langston put his raw hand over the pipes in an attempt to stem the oozing, using his good hand to frantically pat around the ground for the missing piping. The dark oily crud engulfed his injured hand, seeping into the exposed muscle and burning deep in the wounds. Langston's breathing became labored, the sting from the oil was too much to bear. Anger rose in Langston's throat, he became distracted by his contempt for the creation, becoming so frustrated that he found himself blaming the victim.

'If only he had listen! I told him not to move! This isn't right, he should have been fixed. If he had listened I would be able to help everyone else. I'm not going to leave anyone behind.'

Ticking increased and greater amounts of sludge spilled from the pipes, Langston's anger dissipated, immediately replaced with acute distress. He lied between gritted teeth, his voice faltering, "Don't worry, I almost got it. You're going to be okay."

'He doesn't have much time left. Come ON- Where is it?'

After another moment of searching he found the missing piece floating in the puddle of oil that now surrounded them. He quickly grabbed it, jamming it back into place under the robotic man's chin. Once the tube was in place he recoiled from the machine, whimpering as he drew his injured hand into his chest. He took deep breaths, drawing the air in slowly and closing his eyes once more. He couldn't see the others this time, there was nothing but blackness. The pain was overwhelming, so overwhelming that he sense anything else.

The crude substance began to feed behind the glass face plate of the nameless creation. The mutilated form choked and sputtered as it's small mechanical parts were drowned in the thick fuel. It's gears and pistons were completely coated in the liquid, making them stick and slow. In his haste, Langston had mistakenly connected the fuel line to the wrong tube, effectively destroying the rare creation, this work of art. The creature kept it's gaze fixed on the man who had lead it to ruin..

'Ticktick.. tick, ti-ck... tick.....tic.....................'

The silence was suffocating, so crushing that it snapped Langston back into this "reality". His pain forgotten he gasped in horror, looking at the expressionless broken machine.

He crawled through the thick sludge to kneel beside the mangled form. Lifting its head gently, he spoke to it in a hushed breaking voice, "No,nononononononononononononono... I didn't mean to, I was- I just wanted to help, please don't go. I can fix it, I-"

The tears that had welled up were now streaming down his cheeks. He cradled the once perfect creation, staring deeply into its now black and featureless face. His reflection stared back at him, "... I'm sorry friend, I lied... I can't fix you, and I never really thought I could." He smiled weakly letting out an unsettling laugh, "I don't know why we fooled ourselves, I never do anything right.' He paused locking eyes with his reflection, " Now you and I are one in the same. Broken and useless." He rubbed his nose roughly against his sleeve... smelling blood, but feeling no pain.

His nose was suppose to be broken, or was it his hand that was mangled...? He shook his head, realizing that he didn't know what was real anymore- and it didn't really matter. Tears collected in the corners of his lips as they curled into a light smile, "I suppose it doesn't matter what we are though, does it? So what if I'm a fuck up... at least I still try." He rose to his feet standing over the humanoid form that no longer had any specific characteristics, "I'm sorry friend, I can't be of anymore help to you, but perhaps I can be of use to someone else, maybe-maybe even helpful somehow..." He liked the idea, he didn't need to go into hysterics every time he faced a set back and this was just a broken object- why let it hold him back?

Mustering a little resolve he rose his voice and yelled at the form, "I'm leaving, those people need me, my family needs me."

He turned away from the wreckage of his failure, to see the glowing orb in the distance. "'The light! That led me here, surely it will lead me back."

He took his first step away from the now unidentifiable mass and a poisonous thought stirred in his mind,

'But what if you're wrong?'

Langston halted and the orb grew dim. He stood still, his mind spinning, "Wha-what? But-"

'What if it doesn't take you back? What happens then Langston? What if you are wrong about everything?! Not useful, but a burden. Not helpful, but harmful.'

Langston turned back to the broken mechanical figure, it was no longer faded but completely corporeal. He walked to the edge of the grimy puddle, raising his voice at the dismembered pile, his resolve dissolving as he tried to yell, "I told you, I'm sorry- What more do you want from me?!"

Once again Langston fell short, tripping up right before the finish. He fell back into the dream completely wrapped up in his doubts.

The other voice chimed back in, no longer within Langton's head. He ignored question, instead posing others,

"What makes you think "they" need you, and what makes you think your family needs you? Yes, your family, weren't they trying to get rid of you?"

"STOP IT, Please stop... " He wanted to say more, but he could no longer form words. His breathing became short and erratic, he felt like he couldn't breathe at all. He doubled over hugging his chest tightly, is face becoming drenched, coated in a viscous mixture of sweat, tears, and mucous. The reaction was so immediate and powerful it caught Langston by surprise, scaring him witless. Between coughs and gasps for air, he managed to croak out, "Am I dying?!"

The voice replied mockingly,

"It's all going to be okay, I can fix you"

 

[NinjaDeathSlap]

As Minerva's wrist pulsed, sending blood down into the basin in stops and starts, it was not her own cut she felt, but rather all the cuts, bruises and burns being afflicted all around her. She savoured them all, giggling ecstatically. When the basin was about a third full of her own blood, she drew her hand away and blew on it, at the touch of her breath, the wound healed itself. Rather paler than before, and even more giddy, she turned to face those who had, through fortune or guile, passed the second trial already.

"Ooooooh well done! Well done!" she crooned, hopping from one leg to the other, before flourishing an arm towards one of the tormentors that still bared down upon the philanderer, dissolving the apparition into black smoke in an instant.

"Come, come quickly." she said to them "Your essence must be added to the solution. You must all accept each-other's gift, before the Blood Door will show the way."