[Flashback] Worlds beyond these (Fallacy)

[Wrenmae]

His heart still hammering in his chest, Wrenmae followed the quirky merchant deeper into the church. Behind them, the Strain lay sprawled and unconscious, sword near his feet. But even as they continued forward, the merchant's observation haunted Wrenmae's thoughts. Soon, soon they may all be like that man left behind, devoid of color, of life perhaps...who knew what measure of the soul color defined? They came to a door and the merchant turned to ask Wrenmae his opinion. Shaking his head, the boy only pushed at the door, too afraid to return to the room with the Strain, too afraid to even look at himself and the seeping lack of color starting to starch his body. The room beyond leered back at them both, gargoyles twisted in face and sporting viciously curved axes watched them disspassionately from either side of the room. When the merchant fell, Wrenmae hurled himself across the floor to catch his hand, yanking him back onto their side. Beneath, the chasm yawned, spikes glinting hungrily beneath. One must not touch the sand. One must not touch the sand. The sand. ... Pooling res in his hands, taking a moment to collect a deeper reservoir of the ropy golden liquid, Wrenmae stepped to the edge of the tiles and pushed both hands forward. A blast of air cleared the immediate tiles in front of him, sending sand seeping against itself and creating a short alley of progress. Immediately pooling more Res, Wrenmae continued the progress, blasting sand from their path as they made their way across the room. The storyteller kept a weather eye on his supposed guide, not sure he could intervene if the man erred in step. "Research?" Wrenmae asked at last, as they approached the last two doors, "What kind of research could you possibly do here? Can the Strain ever be normal again?" How long does it take to become one of them?"

[Fallacy]

The sands blew off the tiles, it allowed the pair to walk. Nodding the guide smiled, ”Yes, research. We are researching the Strands, this colorless desert and the effect of color has on soul.” he explained, ”We have deduced that the Strands turn things into Strains by stealing its color.” he said, ”So, technically, Strains are not just the living things, but the objects as well. Where does this color go?” he asked, ”Well your guess is as good as mine. Perhaps its fed back into Alvadas, to make the city brighter and more lively?” he made a random stab in the dark as they walked, ”We have also figured that Strains are bound to the Strands because of the lack of color. The Strands literally take a part of the djed of the person, and use it to trap them here, making them appear colorless, because it is that identity that the Strands consume. We currently do not have an estimate on how long it takes for one to be turned into a Strain.” Looking at the other door, the merchant turned back to see the sands that were once blown out of the way by the mans magic move back into place. ”I guess there is no turning back now.” he said pushing on the stone door. This one didn’t budge though. He pushed again, no progress. ”Well, this one is stubborn.” he said pushing even harder, leaning into the door with all his weight. It budged a little bit. Taking a step back he rammed himself into the door only to have it give a little bit more. Groaning he pushed against it more and more, ”You can help you know.” Armond would snap at Wrenmae if he wasn’t already helping. It would take their combined might to open the set of doors. Entering the room, there was a figure laying in the center of the room. Immediately the figure was recognized, ”Master.” the merchant called out running to the collapsed figure. Turning him over and holding the man in his arms Armond looked at his face, they looked exactly the same. Same clothes, same hair, same face, same hands, same everything. ”Why.. why are you here of all places?’ he asked only to get a weak reply of [color=red]”You shouldn’t have come… I made this sacrifice so you could…” there was a weak coughing. The only difference between the ‘master’ and ‘Armond’ was that the master had a definite lack of color. Has he become a Strain? ”Common,” Armond tugged on the man, ”We have to get you out of here as fast as possible.” he said. [/color]

[Wrenmae]

Pushing open the doors, he listened to Armond's description of the Strands with growing dread. This place was like a trap, a monstrous trap for the unwary and the foolish. How could one leave? Could THEY leave? It was the open door that dispelled Wrenmae's barest hopes that there was no more illusion involved with this mission. Two of the same men, Common and Armond, both of them identical save for the color seeping from Common's body. It was uncanny, disturbing even. In fact, it seemed to be that Armond and Common were even wearing the same clothing. It was eerie, too eerie, and at first Wrenmae only stood at the door and watched them, the one struggling to bring the other up. Obviously weakened, Common leaned heavily on Armond and the merchant turned desperate eyes on the storyteller, already moving for the door. Cursing under his breath, Wrenmae dashed out ahead of them, pooling res again and blasting more sand from the path, clearing a way for all of them to move unhampered through the trap. Shadows, gray shadows, began to gather at the edges of the room, at the doors. Common looked colorless, literally, only a faint tinge of color filling hi body with the effort of movement. It was as if the sands were stealing his very life. Like it was stealing Wrenmae's And he could feel it. The Strain was gone when they entered the room, only his sword remained. Wrenmae did his best to put out of his mind the image of the man collapsing to sand for failing, helping Armond boost Common through the hole to the church. Armond got a leg up next, Wrenmae straining under the larger mans weight, before being pulled up by the merchant. They exited the church at a hobbling run, the sands blowing around them, almost a barrier, almost as if it was physically holding them back. Wrenmae let Armond had the lead, unsure which way in the Strands he should go. Distant human figures jogged lazily in their direction, curious no doubt, and only moments from outrage. They moved without speaking, saving their breath to help the 'master' toward the door. It came into sight, a beacon to a home Wrenmae had only just come to fully appreciate, and it was hard for him to not break into a run to reach it. Instead he let Armond and Common open the door, all of them stepping out of the Stands in a flurry of grey sand and gasping breaths. Wrenmae laid there a few moments, eyes closed, not daring to believe he'd made it back from that nightmarish realm in one piece. Or maybe it was all a dream, a terrible nightmare...and it was only now...that he started to awake.

[Fallacy]

The trip out of the Strands was not nearly as eventful as the trip into it was. Stumbling out of the door, all of them now found themselves on the outside of the runic circle. Color slowly returning to them all, as they laid there to gather their breath. Armond didn’t think he had ran that fast in a long time, and now… well, master was saved. ”Master.” he said, bending over the other him again, ”master, wake up. We are in Alvadas now. Can you see it?” he asked, ”Can you see the color?!” he sounded overjoyed by the results. The other nodded weakly, the color fading back to him. The spell of the Strands was wearing off now. Armond went on, ”And it was all thanks to this man.” he gestured to Wrenmae. It was odd. They went through this adventure and Wrenmae never introduced himself. Now was as a good time than any. “He was the one that prompted you to risk your color to save me?” The other Armond asked. Armond shook his head, and explained the series of events, only for when the story ended the other Armond laughed, “Well, consider your debt paid.” He said, waving his hand dismissingly, “Why is he still here?” he asked.

[Wrenmae]

Voices brought him back to consciousness, and he glanced up at the two of them. Color was swiftly returning to Common and the Undercity of Alvadas clustered around them, crowding the spaces around the Strands, sitting so innocuously in its little play-sized partition. Groaning, Wrenmae got to his feet, wobbled and reached out to steady himself against a wall, breathing heavily. "Wrenmae," he introduced quietly, nodding at Armond and Common. The 'master' dismissed him casually, waving a hand at him. Wrenmae paused, not quite sure how to respond. On one hand, part of him wanted to demand something else in compensation, the trip had not been worth the price of a hundred carts...the dangers alone outweighed this intangible benefit. But Armond looked overjoyed, ecstatic even, bouncing from place to place with a smile on his face, far different from Common, the master, who had far more pose and presence. "I...I don't know how to get out," Wrenmae offered with a shrug, indicating the area around him, "I didn't even know this place existed until now." He glared at the Strands, shivering. "Are there other places like...that, down here?"

[Fallacy]

They both stared at the man, Wrenmae, “Are there other places like this down here?” The other spoke, “Gods, if we only knew. If there is then we don’t know about it. Then again, who cares? We have the Strands.” He stated in a rough unforgiving voice, “Now you said you don’t know how to get out of here? Doubt you even know where you are kid.” He grinned standing, “You are in the Underground.” He explained, “The darker side of Alvadas lurks here.” He said, “Things that haven’t seen the light of day in centuries walk this place, both in the streets you see around you and the places beyond.” He laughed a little, “Would it be such a feat as to imagine that Alvadas is much much bigger than anyone of us can comprehend? With illusion comes infinite possibility.” He said. “Now, from what I gather, both parties have fulfilled their obligations. Im here, right fine. We can part ways now. It was nice meeting you Wrenmae.” He said turning to leave, “If this is it, we need to be on our way Armond.” He said, the shopkeeper following in his wake as the first steps away from Wrenmae were taken.

[Wrenmae]

Wrenmae held his tongue as he listened to the mage. The Underground? Here? Certainly it wasn't hard to imagine Alvadas had a place like this, but what lurked down here among the narrow alleys and confusing corridors? More places likes the Strands? The concept alone was frightening, and his eyes darted place to place around him. The mage laughed, almost coldly, muttering about a deal being struck and being on his way. Wrenmae paused, looking back at the Strands, the way he thought he came, then followed the other two. His steps were unsure, they were quiet and followed the two lookalikes with almost nervous hesitance. The more he thought, the more the whole situation didn't seem right...didn't seem...fair. He paused. "Look," he said, daring to raise his voice a bit, "I didn't know the dangers going in, and I could have died in there. Technically that cart can be paid for...in mizas not blood and danger. I want to know a thing or two before we part ways...the first is how to actually get OUT of here and the second is the two of you..." He shrugged, kicking at a few loose stones sullenly, "Are you twins...or..."

[Fallacy]

The two kept walking, but when the man started talking again they both stopped and turned around at the same time, their eyes staring at them, absorbing the questions, “Exactly” they said at the time after Wrenmae made the comment about the cart being easily paid for, “All debts between us are void.” When the talking continued they couldn’t help but smile, even laugh, “To get out…” ”That is simple. Just go up. Look” he turned, looking up at the sky. There would be a glass staircase that shone with a bit a light descending from the sky, ”Climb that,” He pointed at the staircase, ”And you will return to Alvadas. Know however, the moment you stepped foot in this place, in the underground, a connection was made. You will now be aware of it and where its many entrances lie. You will hear its call… Alvadas is more alive than anyone would care to know” he stated. “We are not twins, human” the other started, “We are companions. The master Familiar and the one the familiar is bonded too” He told him, “Satisfied?” the familiar asked. With that they began to walk away again before the Familiar stopped, “In fact… would you be interested in having a companion?” He asked turning to Wrenmae, “Would you like a familiar, boy?” He asked, “Its truly amazing.” He stated, “Sharing your mind with another creature.” With the word ‘creature’ the familiar looked at the human, “Unique and different. You will experience things in a whole new light, I can guarantee it.” He said, snapping his fingers, “The best thing is, I know some who would love to be partnered with you.” He went on.

[Wrenmae]

Wrenmae followed the trajectory of the finger toward the ceiling. Up past the stucco walls and cramped window slots, past the shadows and the nothings that played about the edges of hid mind, beyond the Strains and the dangerous mysterious they withheld. Up to the glass staircase descending from the sky. Unprepared for the splendor of the sight, Wrenmae swallowed a gasp. He had been in Alvadas since the mountains and Vayt. In some ways, this city was home to him...but he was a fool to ever think he would see the length and breadth of the city itself. To him, Ionu wasn't a god of Tricks, Ionu was the city itself, the god sprawled out in one multi-layered home. Here, here is where the darkness of illusion resided, places that held no purpose or beckoned the unwary to fall victim to their traps. Even so, there was a certain attraction to this place, some sort of pull that reminded the young man that even the most base desires and darkest magics had their fanatics. He'd be back here...oh yes, one day he would return to the Underground. Only their explanation could pull him away from the staircase. Blinking, Wrenmae looked between the two, Common and Armond, and nodded...hesitantly at first, but then more vigorously. "I...I think so yes, I mean, what does it entail? Erm...bonding and stuff, but, I mean, is there risk? How is it done? Will it look like me?" The questions bubbled from his lips, seeping from his mind as he thought them and suffused the air with inquiry. He was hooked.

[Fallacy]

The both of them listened to the questions that spewed out of the man. They looked more than amused, “Why of course” the Familiar clasped his hands together, “only a fool would jump blindly into such a serious binding.” He said, “Seems, you are not as fool as I took you for” The snarky beings announced. Sighing it began the explanation, “ First the portal to the other side must be made. Armond can do this easily enough. Then I will act as the mediator going between worlds brining you only the most suitable candidates.” He smirked, “After which you will choose a familiar, and sign a contract. You both will be connected there on out. If the familiar dies, then you die” He pointed at Wrenmae, “If you die the familiar dies. That is how strong the bond is. Any damage you take, the familiar takes as well.” He withheld some facts, “Armond create the circle, if you will.” With that Armond produced chalk from his cloak and got down on his hands and knees, drawing the circle out carefully. It took him some time, but as Armond was drawing the familiar continued, “No, the familiar wont look like you. That is an ability set aside for those with a strong connection and friendship like Armond and mine’s. It will look like, well you will see soon enough” The familiar waited for any more questions, and then Armond announced he was done. Turning to the newly drawn circle, “So, do we have your interest?” He asked. If yes then Armond would activate the circle, opening the portal to Fyrden. The Familiar would then change back to its normal shape, a humanoid metallic thing whos face resembled that of a jester. Then he went through the portal, and only moments later, or too much longer after that, another emerged from the portal. [color=green]”Hello,” it began, ”I would enjoy being your familiar. I believe we would have a really good time.” it said. The first one to come through and already he had a potential match. What luck! The familiars features were bold, sharp, and unforgiving. The ore it was made of shone with a dull blackness, and its eyes and smile were equally so. [/color]