Not Without A Fight (Wrenmae, Rhylund)

[Septimus]

Fall 89th, 512AV

As if these previous dreams hadn't been a mess Septimus suspected nothing would happen this time when she went to bed. However, that wasn't the case as she found herself in her human form walking barefoot in tattered shorts and a thick white shirt with rips in it. The sleeves had been shredded off, their only remnants were small shreds of the white fabric. However, another thing also startled Septimus. She had her broadsword but no shield. It had blood on the tip and edges of it and her shirt was also covered in a few spattered spots. It was awful and let alone she was shivering for the ground was covered in freezing snow and the air temperature was mimicking it. She was in an extremely dense forest and the Kelvic knew she would die of hypothermia if she didn't see shelter. She desperately turned her gaze everywhere to look for shelter but she only saw a small wooden cellar door.

Instantly running over to it, she jerked it open and stepped inside being sure to shut it behind her. However it was extremely dark and as she stepped down the ladder and into whatever awaited her, the door on the cellar locked itself. She used her freehand and tried to get it to open but it wouldn't budge. The only thing that she could sense was her feet in warm liquid and the smell of metallic elements so strong it invaded her nostrils. Then a large jet of flames shot out from the other end of the corridor and illuminated the entire underground hallway. What the petch!?!? Septimus' only option other than be hit by the fireball was to duck in the red liquid that the light from it illuminated and instantly Septimus darted underneath it, the heat source flying by.

This encouraged the Kelvic to enter a sprint. One where she felt the adrenaline pumping through her veins and telling her to run for all she's worth. She darted for the door beside the fireball's source in which it barely illuminated as it crashed in the ladder instantly sending it into a shower of ashes. Septimus rolled through the door right before another large fireball blasted. The door was thin and wooden and in here the warm blood still continued. It was dark. Pitch black dark. Septimus ripped a strip of left cloth off her shirt then right as another fireball was shot out the doorway she pushed it letting a draft carrying part of the cloth into the fire. It acts as a small and short strip torch as she held the ignited temporary lamp around the room and then there was another door. Septimus swiftly entered this door to find herself outside. Only it was midnight and the moon had a red tint to it. However, it wasn't snowing.

Red fireflies lit up the atmosphere as they fell to the ground. It was a remarkable sight and the door shut and locked itself behind Septimus. Anything was better than that hallway of blood and fire. After a few moments of admiring the tons of fireflies did she see that the sky was smoky and a red glare casted off of the clouds. Septimus' eyebrows furrowed and she reached her hand out to touch a firefly. Only after a few landed on Septimus herself did her eyes grow wide in fear. These weren't fireflies. They're ashes! Get the petch out of here, Septimus! Now! Go! The forest round her caught on fire and was instantly engulfed in burning flames. Septimus' forehead was soaked in sweat as the heat radiating off the fire sent Septimus running in the opposite direction.

Septimus kicked the door of the small bloody little underground tunnel in and darted inside of it, welcoming the warm blood to her shins once more. She dodged the... snowball? No it wasn't a fireball, but a snowball that rolled in the warm (turning colder) blood until it slightly melted. This is what Septimus had been stepping on when she walked into the room; squishy half melting snow. Luckily, it had mounded up at the end and replaced the ladder in which she quickly stepped on and barged the door open with her shoulder. It was warm air, not freezing cold like Septimus had though it would be. This air was perfect. And to add to it, there was a stream right beside Septimus filled with clean water under the midnight sky. Septimus quickly drank it, quenching her thirst.

She closed her eyes for a split three seconds and found herself in a red tinted sky environment. It was night though, she could see the red moon casting it's light off the black clouds. However, there were large needle sharp thorns growing up in perfectly, tightly packed together rows forming a labyrinth of things. The grass was comfortable on her barefeet though and she just had to stay slow and easy to keep from running into the sharp and large thorns to keep from getting skewered. She needed to get to the middle. She knew this how? Actually she didn't know this, and there was no middle. Soon this thought melted away as she turned right and saw a three-way intersection piece. The Kelvic shot up the middle one turning left then she came to another one of the three ways, quickly darting up it's middle as well.

[Rhylund Vauler]

Rhylund laid with his back against a hard wall with a soft pillow beneath his neck and a firm rug beneath his back. The last few flames of an oil lamp licked the air as it danced its final farewell. Ale pulled heavily at his lids and his chest heaved a small sigh: the slightly sore burn of passing friction upon his fingertips from sliding against the strings of his lute still warmed his inner ear. Sleep came slowly... silence filled the air like a blanket, pulling the young bard deeper into... The stage was brightly lit by lamps of intricate design. The grin on his face was second only to the loud, resonating tones of his master-crafted lute. A faceless crowd writhed with ecstasy and drunken enthusiasm as he stood with feet shoulder-width apart. His right hand attacked his instrument’s metallic veins from beneath before rising in a wide arch to form a fist above his head. Green-eyes closed as a sense of victory conquered the rest of his features, “Thank you!” Full lips stretched in a triumphant smile as his world remained dark. “Yes, thank you! Yes, I am great! Now, ladies...” His words trailed off as his gaze reemerged from its veil and he spotted members of the crowd quickly peeling off back towards their respective tables. “...seidal, woN !taerg ma I, seY !ouy knaht, seY” His words retreated back into his mouth as his raised fist reopened and came down in a reversed arch to rest in reminiscing memory of his prior achievements. Suddenly, the crowd began to writhe again, until they came to freeze in unison. Each member then walked backwards towards either a table, the bar, or the exit. A frown dominated his features and he set to move forward, only to be thwarted by an invisible force─clutching his center to pull him in the opposite direction. Time became a fraction of what it should have been, bodies moving by in a blur as he moved slowly in reverse. A mug lept off of the bar as he approached and into his hands, ale spilling from his lips across its rim. A hand slapped his back and nondescript words followed inaudible laughter. More footsteps falling in the wrong direction; a door closed open; rain drops propelling themselves upwards from dirt-slicked puddles, kissing his face before ascending into clouds boiling unnaturally. His back slammed against the brick outcrop of a building’s wall composing one side of an alleyway with a small grunt. “thginot reh teem yllanif ll’I ebyam :ginog teg retteb I” A hand grabbed his shoulder and his head turned back in a wide circle, causing his eyes to open before they had a chance to close. “Once before, but never more: your talent will not save you. The door has closed, but as before: your honesty’s betrayed you.” Terror struck his heart as icey-taint flowed through his veins. His hands began to clutch and squirm against his will and─the tendons─his muscles betrayed. He looked down in horror as his hands crumpled into useless balls of clay as the world around him melted into pooling shades of black and grey. Now, a long hallway and a multitude of doors swam around the auburn-haired man. He moved slowly forward and attempted to push one open: failure. Wide eyes looked down at out stretched fingers upon pristine white paint: the catastrophe of the masked man’s curse was a lingering after-thought. The soft clicking noise of his high leather boots filled the hall with an obtrusive echo as he moved further down its length. One wide door flanked by three in the identical greeted him at the corridor’s end. It felt so natural to move to the left that a second thought was not spared: only to be met by another set of three-sister doors. To the right; down the middle; to the left. His right hand rose to scratch the back of his neck as he found himself chewing a piece of purple taffy. “I... I like taffy.” The thought was enough, at least until a woman in tattered clothing peeled out of one door and down another hall he had not noticed before.

[Wrenmae]

Silence beget creation. In unobserved places, shadows rose to claim a mind fast to slumber, perfectly defenseless. And beyond, where Chavi spin and collide like daggered wheels, three cut into each other with such fervor, that dreams bled into dreams and the thrashing of a dying evening shook loose their secrets and fears.

Wrenmae found himself alone.

It was a feeling he had not experienced in some time, with the ever present Zan, he had taken for granted the self assurance that came with another voice always picking at the back of his mind. Even when mad, that madness had faces...faces he could commune with, in a way. And now? Now he was alone.

The cold of Kalea's mountains seeped into the darkness around him, a bitter sort of dry frost that crept into his skin and stole the motion from his bones. It did not even leave him the paltry comfort of a shudder.


Suddenly, light flooded the chamber he stood in, blinding rays of cascading sun. He was in the cell again, beneath Sunberth, at the mercy of Breaker. Already his arms were pulled to their limits, his body stripped and torn with tools which had no name, no business supping human flesh.

He saw the brutish torturer, and Rhysol applauding quietly behind him. He wore the face of his father and his sister sat, head in lap, her skin a shade of sickly plague green.

"Shall we let him free?" she asked, her mouth contorting,

"No." Vayt stepped in front of Wrenmae, staring at him, examining the wounds, "Let him sit awhile. He does my work regardless of where he is, so why cease the entertainment?"

They laughed, drowning out the young man's screams of agony as Breaker reared back, plunged a brand into his chest.

TRAITOR it said.

MURDERER it said

MONSTER it said.

And then he was released, tumbling in a tattered cloak through mindless hallways, smashing against walls, crashing through doors. He nearly bowled over a woman, followed by a man. Their details were hazy, inconsistent. His body screamed with pain even as his wounds had healed...leaving only the multi-word across his chest, hidden by the cloak draped around his body.

All three in the same hallway, the floor shook, rocked, rose towards the ceiling and shattered stone apart. All three were subjected to four brillaint lights, illuminating the corridor they stood in, flooding their body with a brilliance even the sun would jealousy possess.

A voice. It spoke in voices familiar and abstract, a great chorus of their own voices, echoing down their history.

"To the Victor go the Spoils! Your greatest secrets lie atop the Spire. The first to reach them will plunder all or none...the choice is yours."

In the distance, a pillar of shadow thrust into the sky, roiling the landscape into a mixture of corridors, doors, and cruel edged vines.

Turning back on the two who had joined him, the storyteller was at a loss. His greatest secret? He murdered his family and made a deal with Vayt, carried his mark to all those people, murdered without touching.

And now they stood to know a truth he had kept rigorously buried.

The ground shook beneath them, an unsaid signal...or perhaps a warning.

Taking a moment to steady himself, the murderer laid a hand against his head and grimaced.

"Another petching dream...gods...sleep never comes too easily, does it?" He glanced up at the two of them, peering between his fingers with calculating eyes.

"Lost in dreams as well...are we?"

[Septimus]

Septimus' attention was directly averted to the red headed man whom of which had joined her first. Her eyes peered over him first, however, she continued running at full speed. When the other man with brown hair and stubble on his face spoke, her eyes immediately turned her back stopping in her tracks. "Lost? No, not lost. More like running around because we're damned in this place either way? Yeah, pretty much." Was this an illusion or was this man real? Could he be trusted? Should she trust him? No. It was plain and simple. The rumbling of the ground never began until he came in.

The Kelvic took several steps back, then looked at the red headed man. Were they allies? If not, could he be trusted? Trust no one otherwise you'll be commissioned to death all the while sooner! You go to turn your back to help save yourself and them and they'll kill you in broad daylight. It's just how survival works, where you only care about yourself living. Might be best if you follow the way nature made you lest you fall dead to one of these men. Her eyes became narrow slits and her setting changed again much like how the sun set over Mizahar except in an extremely fast paced movement.

This time they were now in a dark long corridor with 30 doors on each side including the ends. The walls were red, the floor was a darker red, and the only thing illuminating everything were the torches that hung on the walls casting an even stranger glow. Septimus' eyes turned into narrow slits as her gaze was directed away from the two and to her surroundings Not again. To her luck, it wasn't the same fireballs as the first time or anything like it. Just a plain scary corridor with torches. Raspy voices filled the air telling a thousand stories and riddles at the same time, all conjoined into a large sound that drifted throughout the corridor bouncing back and forth.

"My Gods, what the petch is going on!?!" As she examined everything with a more observant eye she also noticed that there were dark shadows now moving across the room taking many shapes from animals to walking trees to humans themselves. As she turned to look back the torches had grown dim, now casting even more shadows into the fray and every corner and crevice. Septimus' dreaming heart was racing as it felt as though it was literally about to leap up and out of her throat. Soon she was able to pick out the whispering voices as they grew louder to something like a loud whisper that could be heard across the room. Still, she could only pick out words but not phrases. These words she did manage to hear were girl, blade, blood, gone, and shadows.

Then Septimus felt a slight shove as one of the shadows pushed into her and sent her stumbling a foot or so and instinctively she took a large arm and swung at the invisible object. Her arm only passed through the shadow causing it no harm but annoyance to form itself together once more. On the other hand it sent a cold chill up Septimus' arm and down her spine. The shadow shoved her once more and she swung again with a punch that almost hit the wall but this time where a human's head would've been it passed through once more gaining Septimus another shove from the shadow's annoyance. Before it could be hit again, the shadow quickly scooted away from Septimus.

What the petch was this nonsense? What was this trap that she had somehow fallen upon in her dreams? She was at rest and all was peaceful now wasn't it? It was supposed to be a time of good! Not... not this! Septimus shrugged her shoulders then looked at the other two "Try to doors. I sure as the Void ain't staying in this place!" Trying the door at the far end, Septimus barged into it but it was locked. Then she looked to her right to try that one as well, however, it was locked. To her left there was another door, this one seemed to have a warm glow radiating from it and Septimus hoped it would give in and to her surprise it turned but when she opened it, roaring flames were on the other side and she instantly shut it back.

This was not normal and this wasn't healthy mentally for the dreaming Septimus. Desperation crept down into her long and slender neck and soon her heart began to pump it through her body along with adrenaline. Septimus stepped back then rammed into another door with enough force to knock over a sturdy and stocky man with ease. However, this door did not give in. It was apparent that the doors were either locked, a trick, or something else. Trying another door Septimus found with hope that it turned easily. However, it was soon opened to reveal a wall of bricks behind it. Not giving up, the Septimus stepped back once more with a large breath and rammed into a door to her right, it instantly gave in.

The door was smashed to a hundred pieces as Septimus went tumbling for the ground. She quickly picked herself up and when she looked she noticed that she was in a dark room with a white circle in the middle illuminated by a large white light. "Guys, come look at this." Septimus walked inside the door and into the room, now seeing that it had about three rows of black velveted seats surrounding the circle besides the stairway that led down to the circle of course. The light's rays were bouncing off the floor and illuminated some of the seats around it and at a better glimpse, Septimus could see that there were stairs leading up to an observation platform. "I sure ain't just gonna go in there without protection!" Septimus walked out the room then looked at the closest torch on the wall, now returned to it's original size "It would be smart if you guys did the same."

Walking over to the torch, she placed out hands on it's base and removed it from the circular holding ring it had been placed in. She then walked back into the room and held the torch up, allowing it to illuminate other corners and crevices in which she hadn't see before. "What kind of sick twisted shyke is this mess? Looks like someone has center stage attention issues, eh? Haha." She chuckled slightly but then all serious was returned to her face as she sighed and continued to look around. "Wonder what's inside this." Septimus walked over to the large white ring and stepped inside now noticing that there was a black ring that surrounded her and followed where ever she walked inside the white ring "This is so cool!"

Then the words hit her in which the large voice had replayed in her head 'The deepest secret of each dreamer was at the top of a spire.' "Wait, at the top of the spire the deepest secret? That staircase has an extra door and it's the only one going up." Septimus stepped out of the lit up circle then began her trek up to the large platform soon to see a set of rotating stairs leading up to some point in which she couldn't see yet.

[Rhylund Vauler]

Raised palms spread wide to cast five-fingered shadows across the bard’s face as he stared up into the unworldly beams of light and the disembodied chorus that followed. The woman and the man stood a chance at being the only tangible things in this strange new world, but even they slipped around the corners of his mind as he listened. Deepest secrets? A strange treasure to pursue: he struggled for a moment to even decide what his deepest secret was. There was that time he had stolen a flask of rum from beneath a drunk asleep at his bar stool... not exactly a classy move, but not particularly damning. Or the farmer’s daughter? She started it! Unless the real value of the prize was not in defending his own secrets, but in learning one of─ The looming tower of shadow suddenly seized his attention and his jaw swung open as he watched the landscape ripple and melt into a sprawling maze of corridors. Rhylund nearly toppled over as the ground heaved beneath him. Wide, green-eyes were all that moved as he leaned face first against the dark-red corridor. “A dream?” He finally said, as the commotion had stopped and the man decided first to speak. “Well...” A hand rose to ruffle his hair while the other smoothed the front of his coat. “I suppose that makes a lot more sense.” His toothy-grin refused to remain dormant even in their current state. The woman caught his gaze next as the steps sending her back mimicked her fleeted tone and the skepticism embracing her eyes. He could feel the right corner of his mouth tilt down into uncertainty as he took a moment to study both her words and her mannerisms. His mouth opened with a small breath to try to calm her down before clicking promptly shut at the sound of raspy whispers flooding the corridor. Rhylund followed the the woman’s line of sight with his own before jumping back at the sight of several shadows stirring along the blood-red walls. Something behind him gave a violent shove, sending him staggering forward with arms flailing to catch his balance. He spun around on his heel to see a massive gorilla forged from an absence of light trudging slowly after him. His face went white, and without thinking his hands retrieved the lute he knew would be slung across his back before swinging it wildly at the monster’s head. The first motion caused the instrument’s body to carve a wide arch inches from its face. The second collided with its massive arm as it reached out towards him, causing the strings to howl with an unnatural hiss and a violent shriek of misaligned chords. And, as suddenly as they had decided to attack, the shadows began to retreat. He took the massive-blonde woman’s queue and clawed at the door knobs around him, his chest still heaving beneath his blue coat. The loud thuds of her frame attempting break down other doors, followed by the slamming shut of others still, filled the corridor until she announced her success. He all but ran to the door she had demolished then cast a questioning gaze at the lute in his hand as she suggested arming themselves. His mouth twisted into a frown before returning the instrument to his back in favor of her example with the torch. The sight of the next room caused his breath to catch. It was stunning in its displayed, if not ominous in its shades. He could feel his lips and brow form two straight, parallel lines, and his eyes roll in their sockets at her jest about center-stage. The room was a vacuum of silence. The soft clicking of boots on hard marble floor could be heard for only a moment as their expected resonance was swallowed up and muted before they could fully form. Rhylund’s own frown quickly shifted into a curious smile as he watched the woman pace around the stage, encompassed by an attentive ring of black light. He walked to stand on the platform next to the woman once she moved up and gestured with words towards the flight of rotating stairs. “I wonder if there isn’t another way up...” His words trailed off at the sound of music drifting towards them from the stage below. The white light had reappeared with a number of smaller black rings swirling slowly about within its borders. He turned to watch as silhouettes flickered in and out of existence within the black rings. The music had begun as a soft trickle of incoherent noise, but as he watched, the figures stayed visible for longer bouts of time while the song grew in presence. They almost resembled men and women in elaborate dress: a few even appeared to be holding half-masks mounted on long, thin stems being held so that invisible faces hid behind porcelain shadow. The music came to dominate the chamber, a chorus of a full symphony ringing loudly in their ears. Surprise gripped his heart as he suddenly noticed the chairs had become filled with the same silhouetted figures, all fixated on the dance below. Rhylund turned his head slowly to take in the man and the woman he had arrived with. “I think maybe we should be going─” He jumped as his words were promptly echoed by several other voices. His head quickly swiveled across each shoulder: the silhouettes still danced, or sat and watched, oblivious to their presence. He took a step backwards to the stairs. “If this place is like anything else we’ve seen─” “If this place is like anything else we’ve seen─” His heart began to pound. He could feel his pulse quicken in his ears and the tempo of the music began to increase to match its pace. Another step backwards. “We should─” “We should really go.” The voices finished his own sentence before the words left his mouth. The music’s key had become off, notes butting against one another in stark opposition as a loud bass drum had began to pound quarter notes. Suddenly, Rhylund realized that silhouettes below were no longer dancing and the music─all except the bass drum─had stopped. Every phantom’s head had turned to watch the three standing atop the platform. He looked back at the other male-dreamer with his mouth poised to speak. “We should really go!!” The words ripped through the chamber, spanning every octave from impossible lows to ear piercing shrieks. Rhylund didn’t wait for the others as he whipped around and sprinted for the staircase. It had stopped revolving and his feet carried him up into the darkness. The bass drum had evolved into loud, hollow thuds that inverted upon impact to sound as if something was sucking the sound out of the air. He shot a gaze over his shoulder to see the silhouettes moving towards the platform, strobing in and out of existence so that it was impossible to tell how fast they were moving. The blackness closed in around his field of sight as he climbed higher up into the abyss. It was impossible to tell where the next step was but he pushed on until a loud groan sounded beneath him. His stomach sank as he came to an abrupt halt with his arms reaching out to either side, meeting only thin air. He turned to look back at the man and the woman, but before another step could be taken the stairs revolved in a cork-screw around an invisible core. Shock overcame the bard, and darkness was all that met his eyes as he plummeted in free-fall.