Flashback [FLASHBACK] Entrap (Solo)

[Trente]

*
Summer 499, 45

Morning sun filtered downward along the seawater, heat released the night chilled surface into steady wafts of stunning white mist, shifting along contrasting black tides as if it were a vast serpentine creature twisted about the Island nation of Dira.

It struck the young castaway man as eery, and his instincts born upon the dread flotilla dictated he flee, but there was no escape now. The rough Ethaefal's vessel faded into what was better thought as nothingness as he sailed farther from the darkly hued quays, having delivered the child upon what he must have believe honor, for Trente knew full well delivering him was little less than torturous, and nowhere near pleasurable.

Though thankful the child could not claim he would miss those screeching nights with the terribly beautiful creature of Leth, nor the blistering days alongside the harsh Svefra. His burdens were too great to allow for such small emotions as attachment. In fact, it seemed over the preceding horrific seasons he had only grown closer to one being, the very one that had sacrificed all to enslaved his existence, the very one he wished more than anything to destroy.

____

He was less than a man now, or a boy. A deeply stained sackcloth shirt, three times an appropriate size for the slowly developing child draped upon his shoulders humbly presiding as the only shroud separating the invisible prying eyes within the mists and waters from proof of his abuse. His ghostly companion had left him injured, and bruised, with scars stretched across his dehydrated skin. He held shaking fingers to his cheek to feel at the dry burn left by her deathly frigid touch. The freeze had begun to crack, and at times bled. Though he had been advised not to disturb the wound he possessed not the self restraint to avoid prodding at the tender healing flesh with audible winces which traveled endlessly along the shores of Black Rock.

With heavy exhausted steps he allowed his uncovered feet to ferry his light form along the heavy creaking boards of pitch darkened wood giving body to the docks beneath him, the smell muted by endless washes of unvital water.

The dark shacks and smooth, nearly invisible structures of white marble shifted just beyond his sight. As he stepped from the final plank of the Quays the eery silence encroached upon his nerves and the most vivid sensation of being watched inspired him to crouch lower to the pure light and dark ground then move through the mist with only as much silence as he could manage. His callused feet gripped along the moist marble with only the slightest ticks, accompanied by absolutely no sound but his own beating heart.

No man nor women had promised the boy that Black Rock would be safe to explore. All he knew were rumors of ghosts, and spiritists possessing the power to enforce Dira's ultimate plan for all beings. The child was as prepared for this to be enforced upon him as it might be his tormentor, for even death seemed a plausible escape at that point.

His palm pressed against the uneven side of the first dark shack he reached as he fed himself slowly along its side, still in a deep crouch. When he reached the first unpaned window he very slowly rose himself up to let his gaze fall into the room within. It appeared empty at first, the mist curling in to fill its contents, but then movement captured his awareness. From the far side a shifting in the mist become more opaque til the haunting visage of a tall intimidating man with a long unkempt beard formed, with what seemed to be shimmering thick mist lining his silhouette. Fear struck the child and he forced his eye's shut and dropped silently back to the smooth ground.

The ghost from within the haunted shack let out a short grumble at the disturbed mist left behind, and Trente's heart beat furiously as cold seeped from the cracks between the worn boards against his back, and the being's presence grew closer. He brought his hand to his mouth, and ceased breathing. His eyes opened reluctantly as he peered toward the open window above. The chill pushed mist from the window and poured in a sluggish torrent down onto Trente's inclined face. Behind his fingers he bit at his lower lip as the air within him became exhausted and strained to be released. He refused.

His tired face contorted at the struggle for silence, and to evident avail as the cool torrent of chilled mist ceased and the presence subsided. With extreme care he allowed the heavy breath to seep from between the parts of his fingers and after what seemed a long moment let his hand fall to his side.

As the weak hand reached its destination, however, it retracted in a start, even before the proof of painful cold reached Trente's mind. He let out a yelp of terror and pushed with all his might away from the decrepit shack, feeling the wash of frigid mist displaced in his wake. Looking back his face twisted to utter disgust as he observed the hand reaching through the wall itself, outward to where Trente had rested his own.

Then, as Trente's mind spun at the horror a mass of unkempt beard emerged from the wall, worn by a flickering elderly face, wrinkles shaped into a disturbing grin, etched even deeper by the valleys of translucent skin surrounding the eyes, and gagged bristles about the mouth. Then, a guttural rolling laugh of mockery churned Trente's stomach in pure visceral fear.

The outcast mutt sprung with a scramble to his bare feet and turned on himself, springing with pounding heart and racing feet away from the creature so similar to his tormentor. The moist marble caused him to sprawl out in his bounds once, then twice, then finally his feet disappeared from beneath him and he went rolling along the slick ground, only to ignore the abrasive trauma to his bruised limbs and struggled yet again to his feet to continue his hurried escape.
*

[Trente]

*
His saliva tasted rich of blood, and his side throbbed as he finally came to a halt upon a large asymmetrical expanse of smooth even white marble, hoping the ghost had not given chase, or had lost interest in its senseless pursuit.

The child's unprotected knees struck hard on the ground as his burning legs collapsed beneath him, and he wheezed quietly to himself willing away the blotches of pulsing darkness along his vision.

Just as his heart rate slowed, and his wreaking sweat began to dry upon his long unwashed body he hear another shift in the now clearing atmosphere around him. He tensed remained staring at his hands, pressed to the cold white marble before him. He wished for the movement to be but a trick of the mind.

It was not.

The shift came again, this time with a pulse of coolness from the humid air. He slowly turned toward the sound and saw before him, with some measure of relief, not a tall intimidating ghost but a small unimposing black cat.

A smile of relief broke onto his face, and he let out the smallest of laughs before the feline shimmered unnaturally, then gave forth a flicker as it sat attentively on it's delicate haunches, staring at the living boy from only a few human paces away.

Trente swallowed hard, but was not afraid of the charcoal colored animal. Instead he thought of the felines roaming the streets of his home and reached his hand out toward the creature as he might have to them.

"Hello, cat." He said with a hoarse voice, and the cat stood in shock, the same shock Trente felt as he realized how intrusive his voice seemed upon the silence of the island. He put his palm out in apology, "Oh, I am sorry for frightening you," his voice came in a low hushed whisper, with proper pronunciation he had scarcely used since his departure from Syliras.

The cat showed no sign of fleeing and tipped it's head to one side, then the other, it's tail curling up behind it like an undulating tentacle of mist then swinging with a jerk from one side then the other. Trente's heart swelled at the sight, as he tried and failed to recall the last time he had seen an animal that didn't have gills.

"You are a beautiful animal, cat. I am sorry you died, I hope it did not hurt too much." The cat's head cocked again and Trente reached his hands further to try and beckon the creature closer. His smile faded and he focused upon the feline's manner.

He let out a quiet ticking from his tongue struck nimbly from the roof of his mouth. The cat's ear's perked and it took a tentative and curious step toward Trente's fingers.

"My name is Trente Ostentatoire-Criard Eclatante, however, if you wish you may just call me human. Though," he continued unabashed, rubbing his fingers together, "I suppose I am not really human, not only. My mother said," momentary pain crossed his face at his accidental past tense he his words trailed away into the silence that surrounded them.

He decided to leave words unsaid as the cat finally reached Trente and with a diminutive switching sniffing nose stretched its neck toward the boy's fingers for an exploratory touch. And as it did so Trente witnessed the most amazing thing. The tendrils of wisping energy lapping along the spectral feline's black visage flaked away like fragments of burning paper in hot coals, and with this transformation the wisps turned to twisting rings of rising dark smoke to leave behind a nose more opaque than before. Never had he observed materialization so so intimately.

Just before the two touched, however, the silence shattered around them like delicate glass against a torrent of intrusive wind. Across the rolling smooth surface of the island came a bellowing chime of heroic proportion. The feline shimmered and suddenly stood alert several paces away, yet again, as if the distance were nothing, then turned and scampered away, leaving the boy alone once more.

Trente circled around trying to spot the source of the booming haunting note, and once he had he fell backward onto his ass and gaped upward at its majesty. With the last of the morning mist burned away by the sun's rays, three gargantuan towers could be easily seen stretched upward from the peak of the island toward Syna above. The tallest of them held upon it a vast clock face which read time Trente could not decipher, but let out from loud bells a strike of a cycle's conclusion, and as if it were a command to the world itself the ground beneath the boy began to shift in the most unsettling of manners.

Trente's eyes went wide as he looked panicked to the shaking grand he sat upon. The sheen of white churned as naturally as if it were thick fluid cream, much to Trente's amazement and undeniable fear. What appeared to be dark black bubbles rose within the white surface and spread outward in finally crafted shapes, all perfectly symmetrical though none resembling another. And that is when the ground beneath him began to tilt, which summoned Trente to his feet within the moment. He tried to maintain his equilibrium with difficulty as the morphing marble beneath him sunk downward one one side, and he grabbed at the dark shapes which had begun to protrude outward of the whiteness, forming various ornamental statues, which Trente treated as hand and footholds without a moments hesitation.

He grasped at what appeared to be a snakes smoothly scaled head forming under his touch, and pushed his foot off of what he could swear was an owl's beak, still rotating in to fit it's face properly. Trente's pulse escalated again as he struggled to climb upward, the white ground below continuing to slope more drastically with each passing moment, quickly becoming a wall rather than ground. The animal steps were more surprising than demanding at first but as the climb became steeper he struggled to plot his path with haste, and it seemed as if the world morphed and changed without reason around him, causing the pitch black handholds to stretch farther and farther apart till the boys reached became strained upward for a horse's smooth black mane only to have his fingers slide futiley off, and nearly sent him plummeting back downward.

Huddling with no hand holds to the white wall, now perfectly vertical beside him, Trente took several harsh breaths of panic and tried to steady his footing on the narrow protrusion of black beneath his feet, the only piece of reality still suspending him from whatever chaos laid below.

He dared only once to glance downward, and saw endless rows of animal faces descending into a fall that was not endless, but also did not promise survival. The boy let out a whimper and took survey of the surface he stood tentatively perched upon. The width was little more than both his feet and was in the finely crafted shape of a completely smooth and polished slope of a cat's head in flawless black marble.

He clenched his eyelids together in panic, trying to calm himself, but opened them again as his feet wavered dangerously. Slowly, with shaky resolve he turned his look outward, and saw, suspended through the air, strung sparsely from each side of the finely crafted pit of evenly spaced animal heads a rickety bridge, crafted from worn dark planks of pitched wood.

The jump seemed too far in the boy's better judgement, and the bridge unfit for receiving his weight with addition of momentum. He thought of screaming for help, but he knew that there were very few people in the world willing to help a child such as himself, and he could only imagine there were even fewer on Black Rock. He gave a disgruntled expression of pitying disbelief toward the bridge suspended in the centre of the deep pit, then bit his lower lip, still focusing on holding his wavering balance.

He would have to jump. He gauged the distance drew his weight tight against the wall and just before letting out his death defying leap he saw a figure step onto the bridge, causing it to tilt and sway unevenly.

Trente halted his movement and knitted his brow together in worry as he looked upon the visage of the one who now grew closer to the center of the bridge, and thus him, one steady and deliberate step at a time. Draped in fine white silken robes Trente could derive no gender denomination from them, but they did not flicker like the dead nor emanate ghostly mist and frigid cold. However, nor did the creature's chest breath which was perhaps more unsettling to Trente than the dead he had become accustomed to, if not comfortable. Its face remained shrouded in the visage of a feral jackal, and it gripped in its left hand an incredibly long staff adorned with a strong wicked looking hook upon one end.

Trente scrambled with weakening knees to turn upon the dark feline's crown, so as to face the approaching being. As he managed the calm creature reached the centre of the bridge, halted and turned to face Trente with deathly silence. The boy froze, pressing himself back against the cold white wall.

With distant unreadable eyes it fed the hook outward over the chasm between the bridge and the stranded child. As it grew close Trente glared, fearing the worse and brought his hand up to bat the implement away with as much force as his limited balance would allow, but the tool twisted seemingly contorting around Trente's narrow neck with the sudden speed of a viper's strike, and Trente felt an uneasy coolness emanate from the unnatural collar placed about him.

He grabbed at it with his hands but it did not part from him, and that when he heard the billions of tiny collision, like cascading sand falling from behind him. He gave a fearful look to the jackal headed creature then turned his head and looked upward toward the haunting sound. The wall he had again began to melt, this time resembling invisible water running over loose sand. A stream of fine soft white marble flowed downward leaving a neat groove like a dried creek bed behind, the excess marble pouring from the feline statue's mouth into the pit below.

Trente wanted to swear, as he had learned to do so well on the Flotilla, but no words came from his gaping mouth as the groove continued to carve backward into the marble face behind him, and as the groove turned to a valley water began to run. Not cool salt water, but steaming hot fresh water, some of which threatening to flow up onto his foothold and deplete his stability. But, the wild cat's head beneath him opened wider into a roar, and water gushed downward into the pit bellow. The proses was mesmerizing, to watch the world shift and morph as if a hundred unseen craftsmen were working away like Syliran Mages to change the world as they see if. Majestic, yet viscerally unsettling.

He watched as all around him the animal faces opened and boiling hot water spilled from them to contribute to the pit below, and the white walls spread from valleys to channels, and with it came more torrents of water.

When all finally settled, the great hook still wrapped around Trente's neck, allowing him to stabilize himself upon the cat's head. He stood at nearly water level with the searing hot water, letting evaporated steam rise and wash at Trente's soar eyes and throat.

The jackal creature said nothing for a long moment, only rose its androgynous hand outward to show the soft plain of its palm. It commanded Trente to halt, and so the child said nothing, though he wanted to.

Soon, through the steaming river of fresh water came a slow boat, ferried by a mysterious gondolier, pushing the sturdy raft through the newly opened channels of water. The gondolier said nothing as it parked before Trente, the boat knocking hollowly against the black statue's outstretched face.

The hook wielding individual then let their hand move once again, fluidly beckoning with one finger aside four loosely curled for Trente to come closer, and the hook pulled at him to encourage his obedience.

Trente looked down into the boiling water between him and gondola, and saw the stunning circles upon circles of black animal heads lining the pit down farther than he could now see. Then as the hook unbalanced him he took a wide step from his perch to the gondola.

The hook left his neck and the masked being then fed a smooth unremarkable black stone from its pocket to the gondolier, who took it soundlessly and waited without motion as the boy's savior dropped the hooked end into the water aside its now floating walkway, grabbing at a slowly boiling rope fixed to the bridge. The hook rose, tugging on the rope, which in turn lifted a heavy dripping wet section of the bridge aside which the gondolier wasted no time in pushing himself, their vessel, and boy on through.

As they drifted by Trente boggled at the mysterious world of uncertainty he had stepped into. However, he was almost nearly certain that he had just been saved from unnaturally shifting land by a jackal headed creature and so he smiled and said back to the being over the boiling water. "Thank you, Sir Jackal, for saving my life. And, also, thank you, Sir Jackal, for paying for my fair."

He then paused a moment with a stern frowned as his heart ached and his temperature cooled. She was awakening again within him, and he had to fear once more his personal demon. He sincerely hoped that somebody on that seemingly uncivilized island knew common and could save him from what truly plagued his existence.
*

[Trente]

*
Something akin to intuition settled within Trente as the gondolier pushed them through the narrow channel ways and told him in an unheard voice that their would be no conversation on their ride. And so, he spoke nothing to the gondolier, who in turn said nothing back.

Some time passed as Trente listened to the hollow clanks of their vessel occasionally knock against marble, and watched the foreign land of blacks darker than night and whites brighter than pearls drift by in the stark silence. The boiling fresh water salted as an estuaries and cooled to a luke warm, not unlike the air which the child breathed.

He grew tired and slumped lazily on the side of gondola, letting his hand trail comfortably in the waters beside them. He fought sleep, but a lazy snooze came, and went. He found that that bazaar place brought some reprieve from his companion within him, who did not chill at him or struggle to take him as he relaxed. Perhaps, he considered, she had just required some time to adjust to their new surrounding. Whatever the case Trente felt easier rest than he had since before the whole horrid ordeal had begun. They were short periods of drooping eyes and lulling drifting thoughts, but they settled like warm arms around his tired body and though there were no dreams he felt as if he had been to the most beautiful place when finally it was time to wake.

The quiet knock of the gondola against the channel's side summon Trente from his shallow slumber, and he rose with drowsy eyes, directed at the gondolier. The gondolier nodded with respectful servitude to the boy, which struck the child as odd, thought not unwelcomed. But, Trente thought little of it as he gathered himself up and stepped from the vessel to solid land.

As Trente surveyed his new environment the gondolier drifted off without a word. An expanse of gently rolling hills crafted in white marble bordered the quietly lapping waves of shallow sea water. Along the stretch of white marble dunes caught tidal pools within the dips. Perched at the far end of the beach of dunes and dips stood with humility a plain dark shack, much like the first Trente had seen, though larger.

Being the only notable structure around, save the spires near the centre of the island, Trente began padding leisurely along the hills, careful not to slip into the tidal pools below, which he discovered from closer observation were not void of life. Within the sun warmed water swam an occasional fish, or dark black crab. Trente even spotted a ghostly craw fish dart into a dark deep hole at the base of one of the pools, only to expel several large air bubbles a moment later.

Surreal as the beach was Trente saw the wonder in it, and took pleasure in his trek across it, as he would numerous adventures upon its expanse in the moons times to come.

____


Trente cautiously climbed several wide black marble steps up a short yet steep incline toward the wooden shack in question. The basic structure was absolutely unremarkable. The dark wood shaped four walls, each but one with a shuttered window, the last with a rickety door. Above was a shallowly sloped roof and facing the water a miniature covered deck with a single built in bench, supporting a single potted strawberry plant with an herb Trente found unfamiliar protruding with modest purple blooms on stalks from the pot's center. Later he would discover the herb to be Nepeta cataria, or "Cat Nip," when he found that ghostly black cat frequent the shack's porch.

For his first visit, however, there was no movement, nor sounds, only the loud creak of brittle stairs as his bare footed weight shifted over them, and carried him up to the front door.

As if some force pushed at him Trente rose his hand and knocked firmly on the door, rusted to its hinges. Thought no response came, the door shook lightly at his rapts and fell from its delicate rest within its frame. It was unlocked, and Trente stared with reservation for only a moment before he thought of what food may be unguarded within. Old habit die hard. Tentatively he reached for the poorly fixed lever of the door and pull the door ajar.

The inside of the shuttered home was infinitely more intriguing than the deceiving outside. Hanging from thick ropes along the ceiling were dozens of clear glass bottles, all containing some organic mixture, emanating cool air which maintained a more comfortable atmosphere within the shack than out. A single book rested upon a cabinet with more than one set of clothes and sacks. Just beside that laid a slumbering figure, within a lackluster bed, stretched with a single fur draping more for comfort than warmth. They breathed softly, with only a single stretch of quilted wool over their form.

Trente, without contemplation, softly stepped into the shack and continued exploring. Just beside the bed area was in fact a dining area. In a finely woven dried seahusk basket lay over a dozen small brown eggs. Hanging above a dipped cutting board was a sack of potatoes, and by those a deep basin of water. Trente carefully snuck there post haste, and scooped up one of the oblong eggs with a smile on his face. He had no pockets so he conspired to consume the eggs then and there. He pulled the worn knife from aside the cutting board and as quietly as he could knocked its very tip against the egg's end. Once, twice, then a chip came out. He froze and watched the sleeping form across the room. After a moment he questioned whether they would continue sleeping if he just broke the egg. He decided not to risk it. He turned the egg over, plugging the first hole and broke a similar sized chip out of the second side. Then, with a sense of accomplishment he brought the egg above his head, then to his mouth, sucking slowly at one hole to slurp the uncooked egg out.

To the boy it was delicious and he followed the procedure quietly with another egg before spotting a large pot of flour. Hungrily he eased the lid off with the quietest of sounds and set it aside, reaching in and taking a fistful of the powder, feeding it into his mouth with little regard for the whiteness which tumbled down his chin and front.

His thieving feast was suddenly halted by an itch, then a tickle, both tempting at the back of his nose. His eyes went wide as he felt the sneeze coming, and he took several hurried steps toward the door before it caught him. The sneeze exploded in a loud sound through the room and the figure in the corner started suddenly. Trente's eyes flung wide as he watched in cynical expectation. But, despite the loud disrupting the figure did not stir further, which seemed all together serendipitous to the boy, who returned to the kitchen with significantly less attention to silence.

He scooped several handfuls of water into his face, then wiped his doughy face and hands off on his sackcloth shirt. Then, just as he considered departure his eyes drew again to the book on the shelving near the bed. He thought of the sneeze, and decided that the person would not wake till they felt well and fit about it, which considering their deep slumber could not possibly be any time soon, and so, Trente quietly creeped toward the bed, along it and to the open cabinet where he picked up the book from the low shelf.

It was leather bound, and finally crafted, though it seemed a bit worn by the sea's breeze, not nearly as well kept at the tombs in Syliras. He opened it, but when he read none of it made sense, it worried him at first that over the past seasons he had forgotten how to read, but then he realized that was not the case. No, the book was only in a language he could not read, and so he placed the book back with utter disregard.

____

Mindlessly he fed soft feet back toward the door only to feel an something unsettling and all together bazaar. Within his gut something churned, and he felt a coolness wash through him. His brow furrowed and he turned to check behind him, only to let out a shrill screech and stumble back.

She was there! Just beside the bed floating in all her haunting shimmers and flickers. She looked as furious as ever, her dark hair tossed in viscous hap hazard disregard. She screamed back toward the child with pure rage.

"What have you done, swine?!" She demanded and reached her hand outward toward the child, but just before her frozen hand clasped around Trente's frail neck she stopped inexplicably. She struggled and pushed forward but could not touch the boy. He huddled, incapable of running from her. He had tried before and he knew how futile it was, and so he felt the pressure of tears violently expanding from behind his eyes. He could not understand what he had done, why she came at him then of all times. What little structure he had had in his pitiful life collapsed around him, and still she did not touch him. She did not draw closer, and she seemed as confused about it as he.

A calm voice of a man came blatantly mocking over the ghost's roars. "Gotchya."

Trente scrambled another bit back at the sound, then looked to the bed where a plane looking brunette man, aged to mid thirties, stared triumphantly at the ghost with sheer light eyes and definite angled facial features.

"You fresh rage possessors are such amateurs, always picking on the weak. Well why don't you try picking on someone your own size, huh?" He stepped barefooted off the bed where he stood and peeled back the small rug by the bedside, revealing an intricate weave of heavy stone beads tied by metal entwined rope fibers.

The ghost struggled more from her new prison but paid no attention what so ever to the gloating man. Instead she slurred hurtful insults and threats to the child just beyond her reach.

"Um," the man blinked seeming taken aback, "can you hear me?" He reached out and ran his hand through the women only to draw it back in sudden pain.

"Do not touch her." Trente let out in warning, eyes wide at what he saw before him.

The man cradled his hand gently and stepped away from the ghost and the bed with a disgruntled look to the boy. "I know that, kid. I was just trying to get her attention. Who is she?" He paused not for a response before addressing the ghost again. "Why were you riding this kid?"

Trente shook his head in disbelief, the man seem so confident and unafraid. Seasons that ghost has haunted Trente, and cursed his existence, and every person he met showed fear for the murderous spirit, but this man spoke as if she were nothing but another child misbehaving.

The man looked to the boy expectantly then with a sigh walked over to him and grabbed him under the arm with a firm hand. Trente struggled, tossing his weight around trying to break loose at first, afraid the man would drag him toward the ghost, but he did not. Instead the man led Trente from the shack, back into the surreal calm of the beach overlook and closed the shack door behind him from which the ghosts screams could scarcely be heard.

He refused to let his firm grip loose and pulled Trente close to him, staring him in the eyes. "Look kid, calm down before I have to make you." Trente obediently stilled his struggle and looked at the man with fear, and some shock that without a word of request the man gripping him had done exactly what Trente had gone to Black Rock for, as if it were easy.

"Good, okay now tell me your name, and why you are here. And try not to cry." His voice rang of blunt condescension.

Trente felt suddenly offended, which was a welcome change from fear. Proudly he pronounced, "I am Trente Ostentatoire-Criard Eclatante, and I, Sir, have come to be exercised, which you have conducted admirably."

The man's brow arched with some surprise on his face. "Right." The man said then faded into distant contemplation before nodding as if he understood. "Well, I have good news for you, kid, and I have bad news. Which do you want first?"

Trente looked offended again and somewhat confused before replying tentatively, "Good?"

The man smiled and expressively proclaimed, "You get to help somebody." Then his smile faded and with dead seriousness he added, "The bad news is that you won't be leavin' here till you do."

Trente glared at the man, but realizing the fairness of this he nodded. "Of course, I will give you anything to repay you."

The man simply shook his head at the boy, and spoke in an apologetic tone. "Your girlfriend in there wont talk to me, and I don't know enough to play at you, so you will be staying to help her pass on." Trente blinked in utter non comprehension which caused the man to give forth an expression of unmitigated annoyance. "How did you think this was going to work, kid? You thought you could just cruise on down to Black Rock and have a spiritist pluck your ghost friend away and you could be on your way, that maybe we might just dust them and it would be over with? Tell me you are joking.

Look, you are going to help her, then we will talk about payment when our problems are done. You two are my patients now, so I won't be letting either of you go till this is resolved. Are you prepared to do what it takes?"

Trente looked utterly shocked at the man's forward demeanor. He supposed the man was not unlike the Svefra, but none of them had been kind to him, and all had been afraid. But Trente was a witty child, and he had no intention of coming off as dumb nor deaf. "I understand, Sir. I will do what you instruct, and I will not attempt to leave until this is resolved for good. I owe you my life."

The man looked genuinely impressed by the boy's quick and flamboyant tongue before responding with an approving nod, and releasing his arm. "Good then. Let's go down to the water and get you cleaned up. Oh, and Tre?"

Trente blinked at the name then responded, "What?"

"You owe me much more than your life. Remember that." He then ruffled the child's matted hair and lead him back down the wide black marble steps toward the water.
*

[Cascade]

Adventurer's Loot Trente's Loot : Skill XP Reward Running +1 Stealth +1 Climbing +2 Animal Husbandry +2 Acrobatics +1 Observation +4 Investigation +2 Lore: Arriving on Black Rock Black Rock: Docks Running From A Ghost Speaking To A Dead Cat Black Rock: The Towers Black Rock: The Jackal Masks An Emprisoned Ghost The Task Of Helping A Ghost Move On The Spiritist From The Shack So that was a good solo. I very much want to get to the bottom of this woman ghost, so go do the next threads! If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to PM me!