Shadows in the Mirror (Serrif)

[Archelon]

With a resounding splash, Serrif's head became immersed below the water and through the haze of the rippling element a strange image came to his eyes. A double image to be exact, his muddled reflection on the water's surface and his hands stretching out into the air blearily shown on the other side. It was like he was looking through treated glass, and the image was disturbing to him. He could feel his right arm bound as his left pushed away at those above, holding him down. But instead of being tied to the board, his right arm was around the neck of a blurry figure, squeezing and choking her as he thrashed about. Through the silence of the waters , Ildrin's voice came back to him. "...a dangerous man ... grave danger..." His eyes focused upon his right arm as it choked someone as he wanted to get away, but did he truly wish to harm them? No, his left arm came about to lock upon his right, wrenching it free from the woman's throat as the waters stilled above him. Serrif's lungs were burning with the need to breathe, and his eyes saw his own face reflecting in the surface seemed to change and morph as impossibly the images head twisted around completely. Eyebrows became skewed, and his lips began to sneer in a manner he'd never let grace his features as two arms, two hands, and ten fingers similar to his own plunged downwards about his neck and began choking him with murderous intent. Serrif could do nothing, couldn't move, couldn't swear as the water as the water began to enter his lungs... all he could do was stare at the face above as it began to laugh at his demise. Behind the figure he might espy the visages of those tormenting him disappear into a haze of red. The fleeting moment passed as suddenly as it came as a pair of slender, yet strong arms of a woman came down to yank his head back above water. Blinking and sputtering water from his mouth, the woman's touch could be felt from behind, her arms encircling his chest as she struggled to upright him. As the sense of disorientation passed, he'd find the arms belonged to Ildrin. She was cursing at him , "Come on Serrif. I just want to help you get up! You need to fight!" Blinking the stupification away, Serrif would realize was sitting in a horse trough in the middle of town, and the reddish hues he'd seen below the waters was the glimmers of fire crackling in the distance. Parts of the town were burning save for one home in the distance. Blearily, he allowed himself to be pulled from his feet to wonder what had happened to cause so much damage. But not for long, soon enough the answer could be seen: A shadowy figure in the distance was laughing, laughing heinously, as it bore a torch inside another building. Soon enough the building had burst into flames before the man leapt through a window to make his way into another. Ildrin it seemed had also spotted the man and ran after almost disappearing into the building ahead before she spun on her heel to yell back at him."Come on Serrif, we have to get through this! We can't let this happen! We can't let this man go! Fight Damnit!" Without waiting for him to catch up, Ildrin turned to vanish inside the building...

[Serrif Von Chatlyn]

He didn’t expect that he would get away very easy. But at the same time he wasn’t about to give in. No Ildin had taught him better than that. He would push through, ignore the pain. He had to it was all he could do here to just keep himself together. He had to do this; he knew one of these was real. One of them was and the other was just…something else. But as to what this something else was…he didn’t know yet. But he knew it was more powerful than a dream. He had NEVER had dreams that were like this. Dreams that interrupted him cognitively while functioning. No he had only had dreams he could escape from while asleep. Nothing like this…this was more intense. Every movement and touch felt real…too real to him. It wasn’t a dream. It couldn’t be. It was something far more terrifying; far more dangerous. But what…and he had forgotten; but he knew what it was. If only he could have the collective peace of mind to remember what was going on. If only he could have a moment of peace from this place he would know what this was. But he was developing on the fly; never knowing when the world around him would change and morph. So he would have to just roll with the punches and take what was coming…and hopefully not get killed in the process. His arm reached out to choke someone and he pulled it away. No it wasn’t their fault…he didn’t know them nor what made them do this. He couldn’t blame them entirely. Who was he to decide who would die and who would live? He just wanted out; and killing any of these slavers would indeed do exactly the opposite. And likely hurt plenty more because of his actions. He couldn’t solve this by violence alone; he would have to find other methods. But something suddenly shocked him as he saw a pair of hands enter the water and begin to choke him. He couldn’t fight it; he couldn’t even curse as he was underwater. But they transformed and he was again in Mura…and Ildin was pulling him from the waters. It was now that it all broke to him…the slave camp…it wasn’t real. But Mura on fire was. He was brought upright and coughed water up on the ground as he bent over and supported his body with his hands on his knees. He looked up and wondered just what was going on here. What…who…All of these questions weren’t really answered as much as spiraled into chaos when he saw the shadowed figure in the distance. Not sure who nor what it was he didn’t give chase immediately until Ildin did. And he knew she was putting herself in grave danger. He gathered himself and followed after her. Not sure exactly what awaited him but he knew that if he didn’t try to stop it he would indeed grow to regret it. Wet, disoriented and scatterbrained Serrif ran on entering the house Ildin had and he looked around. Not exactly sure what awaited him. But he knew that somehow he would have to be the one to halt it.

[Archelon]

To Serriff's ears came the cries of crying children, to his eyes in a room across the main entrance a group of children, bandaged and hurt were crying out in fear. Fear as one of the empty beds of the four was burning. They were young. Children, Toddlers. And they were crying as the fire grew larger as it crackled. Children, were the one possession of life that the konti and people of Mura treasured the most. Somewhere close by in the house Serrif's eyes were drawn to a large barrel filled with water, and a heavy cloth to beat out the flames. Ildrin herself was nowhere to be seen, but he could hear the pounding of footsteps in the floors above and the clash of cold steel ringing against cold steel. What was he to do? Would he go to save Ildrin, or save these children screaming in fright at the flames? oocPaint your own picture here if you want to go up to help ildrin, or save the tykes by getting them out of danger ^-^. I use a 'loose' hand so to speak at moral quandary junctures .

[Serrif Von Chatlyn]

The cries of children reached his ears…the innocent. He summoned himself and felt an adrenaline rush as he entered and saw the bed burning. There was a group of children hurt and definitely scared as the man had definitely lit the bed on fire then met with Ildin. Now what to do... His head made a snap decision and decided he had to quickly put out this fire or the children would likely perish. So he did what he could and bravely rushed over to the fire. The bed mattress was on a frame so he figured he could flip the bed quickly and then rush the children out just in case things didn’t work out so well. He knew that any other action would likely delay his rushing to Ildin’s side. Costing her dearly. But she was a Mistress at the Suvai Paviliion. So to say she was skilled was an understatement. He gripped the bed and then squatted down. The heat of the fire could be felt on his skin but his clothing was still sopping wet. So he was able to endure the heat a little more. He powered up from the legs and flipped the bed on its side then pushed it quickly over on top of the fire that had started on it. Maybe this would smother it…or maybe make things worse. He stood back and could see only a smoldering smoke… But he knew how fire worked, it was sneaky and just because it looked put out meant nothing. So he looked at the children and then picked up any that couldn’t walk and carried them quickly outside and had any that could walk follow him. “Stay here until help arrives.” He said as he then went back into the house. Weapon, he needed a weapon. He could still hear Ildin and the sounds of metal. He wasn’t too late. No he was good. He saw nothing in his chaotic mind that could be used as a weapon so he rushed up the stairs making haste to assist Ildin. He saw an open door, that was where the sounds were coming from. He entered and would again try and make another decision. Not knowing who this shadowed figure was. All he knew was that he was putting all the Konti people at risk. But as far as how to handle it…that was beyond him right now. He would have to assess the situation.

[Archelon]

Seriff carried out the children safely, but his hands had burned themselves in the process as he forced his back into the house and his eyes searched for a weapon. On the table in the common room which he had run through before, he spotted a knife, and soon it was clenched tightly in his grip. Turning towards the steps upwards where the sound of steel ringing upon steel could be heard coming from Serrif climbed. Yes, he climbed, even though the building seemed to be burning around him, he climbed towards the sounds. Seeking out Ildrin, calling her name, Serrif stumbled into the second floor... there was a woman in the distance, clutching her stomach in pain and gasping for breath. It was not Ildrin. Even worse... she was wounded. A dribble of blood coming from her side... all alone in the midst of the fires and smoke. Further above, he could hear the sounds of swords ringing upon each other as the woman looked into his eyes. "Rak'keli preserve us. He's here." she muttered when she could see him staring at her before she squeezed her eyes shut to fall unconscious. She was still breathing, her chest rising and falling told him that. But without some form of even basic medical attention, she would die. The sounds of ringing swords above drew his attention away from the wounded woman, Serrif would be forced to make another choice.Somewhere above, maniacal laughter came, echoing as it mocked him.

[Serrif Von Chatlyn]

Another judgement needed to be made. He couldn’t provide much in the way of medical for this woman. He felt his hands screaming. Even the knife being held in his hands was enough to shoot pain through his hands up his arms. How did he expect to be of any help to Ildin like this? He couldn’t fight like this. He needed to do something. He removed his own long sleeve shirt quickly and used it to tie around the woman’s stomach to try and stop the bleeding. It would help halt it but in the end he wasn’t sure that she would live if he couldn’t do anything more. He screamed at himself internally. He had nothing…Again he had NOTHING If only he could do more to help this woman. However he did know that he had to get this woman away from the danger. The house could be engulfed in flames at any moment. And the fact that he bandaged this woman would mean nothing. He instead burdened her and his mind screamed in pain. He actually set her back down for a few seconds…that was real pain. Nothing like what he had experienced in that dream. He was sure this was real now. He prepared his mind and then burdened her. Every step felt like an eternity when he was under this much pain. He carried her across the threshold and set her on the ground with the children. He pointed to the nearest child. “Press down gently here.” He placed his hand where the child would have to apply pressure. The child looked up at him worried. Especially after seeing his hands. “She will be ok, as long as you keep pressure on her wound.” he said as he then looked at the others. “Stay here.” He then rushed back up the stairs. How many other distractions could there possibly be. He met the second level and looked about quickly without much detail as he was half hoping that he could get to Ildin’s side before she fell in battle. He could still hear some sounds of the battle and the picked the knife up off the floor where he had left it to pick up the woman. Again he was just trying to prepare himself for the pain that would shoot through him if he were to meet this man. He was in no condition to fight him. But he knew he had to aid Ildin. His feet met the staircase again and he met the third level.

[Archelon]

As Serrif reached the stairs to the third floor, his steps rang heavy on the stone as the stairwell itself seemed to twist upon itself, growing larger, and longer, and taller. Whether this was from the smoke or some other form of disorientation marking him becoming closer to the shadowed man, he didn't know. All he knew was that in order to reach Ildrin, in order to reach the top of the next stairwell he would have to persevere. He would have to struggle through the pain, the weaknesses of the mind and the flesh. But it would not be easy. As he ran upwards in the stairwell it soon seemed like he was climbing a tower, and the smoke was thickened. A cloying fog which pierced some shred of the dark past inside him and pulled each and every struggle, every regret out and threw it in his face. His mind began flashing, flashing back to the slaver's camp, the cold of the air during his escape, a rainstorm he had been caught in. Steadily growing worse and worse as Serrif breached thicker and thicker clouds of smoke. Soon, the sounds of fighting became stronger and close by there was just one dark cloud in front of him to push through. With his mind tilting and the intense feeling of flames around him brought to him the sensation of being burned alive, Serrif began to push himself through. An illusion of his past coming to haunt him within this nightmare. For a second, in the distance beyond the smoken ash cloud, a painful cry of a woman's voice could be heard. It was Ildrin's crying out in pain..."Don't do this. I beg you! Please, he doesn't understand!" oocAs you push through this cloud, I challenge you to show me a reflection of the worst memory Serrif has ever had in his life... told from seriff's point of view. His suffering, his pain, his past. You decide... just find seriff moving out of the cloud at the end and stumbling down to trip and fall painfully on the other side to the stone. (if he can overcome the horrors that is :3).

[Serrif Von Chatlyn]

OOCok here it goes oh and I’ll do you better, how about a interlocking chain of nightmares that are interconnected and linked with his worst nightmare along with his worst nightmare? You don’t have a choice now! Already did it. Enjoy. I apologize for length. Serrif could feel his feet making contact with the heavy stone steps. They were warm, yet cool at the same time. They shot shivers through his body, almost like they were surreal. Yet he knew that was far from the truth. He knew this was real, the pain searing through his burned hands…he couldn’t ignore it. No it was real. The knife he held in his right hand, the feeling of its sturdy wooden handle; he knew this to be real. But his view of reality had been twisted ever since that ship took him here. Since he had gone from the chaos of the slaver camp to the peace of Mura. Until now he hadn’t had to fear for his life. And now…he wasn’t sure how all of this had evolved but it was indeed changing his perspective. It seemed like chaos was going to follow him no matter where he went. But this chaos would end here. He would make sure of it. He wouldn’t let this…figure reign terror on Mura. No he couldn’t. As he ascended the stairs he became slightly weaker. His lungs were screaming as he inhaled the thickening smoke. But he knew Ildin waited for him above. He had to get through the smoke to make it there; he had to aid her. Little did he knew what was going to happen. His vision blurred and he reached out for what seemed like an infinity to try and brace himself against the walls of the stairwell. The stairs skewed and stretched into infinity above him. Reality was slipping from him…again. He knew what awaited him and his body crumbled as shock settled through his body. Reality was warping and he was struggling to keep himself here. He NEEDED to help Ildin. If he didn’t…he didn’t know what was going to happen. He could only imagine the terror. But who would bring such terror to Mura? He had no time to ponder that question as reality finally slipped entirely leaving him crawling on the stairs as he slipped away to the camp again. The smoke turned into a dusty haze. Making it hard for him to breathe all the same. His vision came to and he could taste the dirt and dust in his lungs; but there was something else there as well. He couldn’t quite make it out. It was interesting that his mind was still not aware nor ready for what was happening to him. He could hear cheering…cheering? He didn’t remember this…NO. He started to come through and then remembered…He knew where he was. But everything still felt so strange…So warped. His blood was boiling, burning as it was pumped throughout his body. Any strenuous motions would doubtlessly multiply this a thousand times if not more. He struggled to his feet and across the dirt rink was another slave, a woman. He remembered her because sometimes they would be caged together and he remembered… He was there, in his cage now. He could feel the cool almost frostbite inducing metal bars on his body. The bars didn’t allow any to escape. Their thick fortified iron was a hell of a barrier for any to try and break. And none had even to date. He could hear the screams for help and of terror coming from the barracks. It was twisted but he could almost imagine perfectly what they were doing to the one inside. And he knew it was a woman they were doing it all to. After a few years of hearing almost non stop sounds of torture and experimentation he just knew what was going on. How could he not? It was one of those more twisted sixth senses one developed when they were in a situation long enough. He cringed as he imagined what they were doing to her. Likely just torturing her for fun again. Maybe poisoning her. If it was the woman he thought it was she had been captured not too long ago. He sat in the corner of his cage trying to shake the cool frostbite from settling into him. It was all he could do. And then the screaming subsided. Maybe they had killed her? No she was valuable to them…almost every slave was. They didn’t kill slaves often for no reason. He saw two of the men carrying her out. She was bleeding horribly from her back and legs. They had obviously bull whipped her for their enjoyment. But there was more to it than that. She was unconscious, and her body was sweating horribly. One of the two slavers burdened her for a few moments allowing the other to unlock and open his cage. They threw her into his cage then locked it back. “Take good care of her. We will need her later.” The lead slaver said as he smiled. The group walked away and left them. Serrif did what he could and gently picked her up and placed her against her body. She was cool to the touch. He only had one rough blanket and he wrapped her in it. Maybe this would help her come around. He wasn’t sure but he knew that if he didn’t do something she would likely die. Maybe it would also help stop her bleeding. That he couldn’t be sure about. But she shivered horribly. But made no sounds beside her struggling breathing. He knew that there was likely nothing he could do for her. She would likely die. But he had nothing to help her with. Nothing at all. He hadn’t had an opportunity to steal anything remotely useful from the slavers. And well those opportunities only showed themselves every now and then. This faded back to him looking at her on the ground before him. As he scanned he saw the slavers were gathered around a wooden barrier and the head slaver was on a makeshift throne of some kind. He was Nero and they were his Gladiators. He watched as the man stood and silenced the crowd. He had a wicked smile as he addressed the crowd. The woman slowly woke from being knocked out. “Oh good glad to see you are aware. Now…here is your task. Two enter one leaves. The math is simple. But here is the catch. You have both been poisoned, yet the poison you carry is the antidote for the other. Oh…and some certain other things have changed as well.” He said as he then motioned and two of his guards threw weapons into the rink. One short sword and a metal staff of some kind. Serrif was somewhat perplexed. He knew the woman wouldn’t attack him. They would have to make a good show of this though. But still. All this came crashing down around him as the woman came to her feet and then smiled a wicked smile. Seemingly provoked by the cheering and noise that erupted she twisted her head about and looked for something…and she found it when her hand clenched the hilt of the short sword. Her eyes were wild as she looked at him and then like a mad woman she made her way toward him with all set speed. It was inhuman how fast she moved she was upon him faster than he ever could’ve imagined. The crowd cheered only jeering her on as she lashed out at him with everything she had. He was stunned where was the woman he helped? She had to remember him. But all that disappeared when she slashed him across his shoulder; she had originally been aiming for his neck. This told him how dire the situation was. Her eyes were bloodshot, and again she was sweating profusely…They had done this to her. This was not the woman he remembered. Her elegant long brown hair with soft matching brown eyes. No this was another person…yet the same person. He dodged her as best he could as she flailed wildly trying to attack and kill him. This continued for about a good two minutes or so until she tired herself out sufficiently. He then moved quickly and tackled her from behind. Pushing her into the ground. In her flurry of attacks he had gotten a cut on his arm. He struggled but eventually wrestled her into submission. He then dripped his own blood into her mouth. But nothing happened…nothing changed. Searing pain shot through his body as a blunt object met the base of his skull…again teetering him between conscious and unconsciousness. He fell to the ground off of her body. Looking up at the dimming sky he only saw the face of the Nero. He smiled and spoke. “You are indeed pathetic.” Another slaver same over and pinned the woman down with a foot on her chest. “Too bad you didn’t kill her…I told you the math was simple number seven.” He motioned and the woman screamed…then she stopped. Serrif would’ve struggled to his feet but they weren’t responding. “One day number seven,” He motioned again and something heavy hit Serrif in the arm, ”one day you will have to fight.” He rolled his head sideways and couldn’t believe what he saw laying on the ground next to him just within reach of his right hand. At first the mess didn’t look like anything spectacular…but it was something horrific. He now knew why the woman had stopped screaming and why her body now laid limp on the ground…Her head now sat on the ground next to him. Staring at him with empty wild eyes. Even in her last moments he could still see the beauty in her brown depths…He would never forget them. And how could he? His vision blurred as another slaver came over and delivered a kick to his face blacking him out…but that black faded into smoke. He was atop the uppermost stair; it would seem he had somehow climbed the wicked staircase himself. Every orifice of his body burned; eyes were on fire; his lungs were screaming for air he could taste the smoke in his mouth and smell the silt in his nose. As he struggled he caught the last stair off balance and tripped onto a solid floor just in time to hear Ildin say something. He caught it but only lightly as he fell catching himself hardly with his burned hands. His body met stone; he was finally on the top floor. He struggled to gather himself but he knew what may happen if he could not.

[Archelon]

Waking dreams were a fickle thing, sometimes merely a constant reminder of the pains one had survived, or the traumas they had received. At other times they were as real and indicative on the present as much as possible. When Serrif fell to the stone, the jarring nature of his sight changed his vision as things began to swirl. Yes he was in the third floor of a building, No... no he wasn't on the third floor. He was in the top floor of a tower, and somewhere behind him the hissing of snakes could be heard. For a brief moment, there was no smoke, but that strange double vision returned, showing a woman lying on the ground with a stone pedestal pushed over on her. There was nothing choking and gagging him no smoke in the air, no fires surrounding him. For this moment, just this moment his sight was clear. The konti was on the ground... struggling as she weakly looked up at him. But it was his leg that was pressing down on her neck. Choking her, killing her. In his own perceptions the laughter came again, resonating from inside his own chest as he held the knife in one burned hand. It was Ildrin he was trying to kill. There were cuts on his arms too where her blade had made small nicks while she tried to defend herself. He recoiled in horror, throwing himself backwards down the stairwell, going end over end as the bruises began to mount. Serrif's body finally stopped there, sitting on the well as in his sight the smoke and the fire suddenly flared up again. The heat and the haze coming back to this temples as they rekindled and the feeling of being pressed back in the darker recesses of his mind. Worse, he felt the sudden pressure on his chest, as if he was being wrapped in ropes to keep him from moving. Keeping him from harming others. But then the smoke returned, his consciousness became bleak as he felt weighed down. Blinking blearily, Serrif would a figure formed from the smoke, dark and oily black, weaing his own face, his own flesh as it sneered at him. A voice, whipsy and cracked emanated from the man, a darker reflection of his own, "You insipid weakling! Why should we not kill? Why should we not hold the power of life and death over another! Why should I care to deal with your paltry excuses of protesting to take a life? Is that truly who you are? A pathetic fool to scared to defend themselves? Might makes right in this world and yet you live in a delusion! A delusion of peace! This Isle is an abomination to the world. You know this! You want this! It should be eradicated! We should rule here, not be ruled! No one shall ever enslave us again!" He knew who it was, and yet he didn't know who it was. It was him, and yet it bore the garments of the chief slaver of the camp. What was going on here? It was Serrif's last moment to try and figure out. If he couldn't, he sensed in the immediate future he would feel the slaver's with his face's wrath upon him. Would he try to struggle, to fight? To kill? Or was there a different way to come to grips with the man who was stronger then he? Darker then he? Would there perhaps something else he hadn't tried? "Why do you try and stop me!?!!?" the figure spat as it advanced. Around him the Isle faded, the walls of stone became nothing more then darkness as he found himself in the one place he had struggled to get away from so many times. You see, Seven was back amongst the slave camps for the last time. Back in the Arena, with the slave master with his own face coming to kill him. His legs seemed free... and so did the rest of him, including the hand which held the knife.

[Serrif Von Chatlyn]

Images came and went to him now. He really now wasn’t sure what was real and what was some strange figment of his mind. He found himself supposedly on the roof of the building. He heard the hissing of snakes, he had never heard snakes before. This was the only real second of clarity he had in days. He actually had no recollection of time at all. He didn’t even know if he had been awake and aware for long periods of time. What could cause this? His mind reeled and he reached for answers. He remembered Blythe had visions when she saw his scars. He remembered how it made her feel how she reacted. It was like an alternate reality for her. She saw it all through the eyes of another. Maybe he was having visions of his past… That was the only way he could even begin to explain this away. But this person he saw, was doing real actions. It was burning buildings and slaying people. He saw Ildin…he was trying to kill her? Why was he trying to kill her? He recoiled in horror and he fell backwards down the stairs and ended up on the second floor again. The smoke encircled him and he was falling back into the hellfire again. Confused but enlightened. He believed he knew what was going on. He thought he believed what was happening to him now. Someone came at him from the smoke. Still things became a little less clear. It was a darker reflection of himself. The vision…figure had his face but it was wearing the outfit of the slaver leader. He figured he could speak or reason with it. But the figure was by far a more reckless vision of himself. It was him, he was somehow responsible for all this. It was him…but he was pretty sure that he was not this image he saw before him. He didn’t remember doing anything that this figure had done. He spoke, of how they would never be slaves again. Of how he would try and hold the power of life and death in their hands. And how he was pathetic and weak; his mind spurred on a response. “I have forgiven them. They did what they had to do. You cannot condemn them, none can condemn them. Not you nor I. We hold the balance of life and death in our hands through healing! Not through death and destruction! You can’t undo the wrong of these people through destruction; only through understanding, forgiveness, and compassion. Killing and damaging the innocents isn’t the way to do this. I have let go of this! Why haven’t you?” He paused and spoke again. ”I have forgiven you.” He said referring to the main slaver; his hand loosened and the knife hit the ground. ”I will not kill you.”