The uninvited are not welcome!

by **Brandon Blackwing** on February 15th, 2014, 11:22 pm

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The 60th Of Winter 513AV

Today it was cold again as well, the air around the people’s heads formed white puffs which disappeared as soon as they had appeared before being replaced for another one. Syna shone bright though, the Winter sun was almost blinding and no warmth was present in her rays. It was as if her golden stare had changed from a warm and gentle, motherly look into a cold and harsh glare, displeased with what the people on the surface had done, though the bat couldn’t think of something the goddess would be upset enough about to stop spreading her warmth.

No, he was sure Syna had the same mental state as ever, it was just the season of cold that ruled and not the displeasure of the goddess. That’s how things were. However, a thick coat of clouds made their way towards the eye of the sun and, albeit slowly, soon they would hide her from sight. Or did they hide the people from Her sight? The bat didn’t have a clue, but he didn’t care about such things. All that mattered was that it happened, not the details. Yet, it would be nice to know what and how….

Fumbling with his fingers -purple and stiff from the cold- at his scarf, he quickened his pace for he didn’t want to dally any longer. The sky looked as if rain was coming, and getting soaked in a season as this meant catching a cold, or worse. Brandon wasn’t really into being ill, nobody probably was, but the whole miserable feeling, the shaking knees and headaches, stomach-aches, fevers, vomiting… No thank you, he’d rather be healthy. Besides, he already suffered from a large amount of headaches since he’d first experienced insomnia and just a simple migraine was enough to make him feel terrible.

With these unpleasant things in mind, Bran decided to take a shortcut home, the shortcut being the rooftops. It had to be said, he had no idea where he actually was, he’d been strolling through the streets of the crystal city absentmindedly like he often did, not remembering which way led towards his house, or even which peak he was on. If he’d stand on a high place, on the rooftops for example, he’d probably find an orientation point fast and he’d know his position instantly. Well, that one option, the other being how he usually got home: just continuing his stroll, mind wandering off and eventually arriving at a familiar place. But right now he didn’t have the time for the latter.

The street he was standing in was a dead end, a wall blocking his path. The bat sighed, ordinary walls were hard to climb since they didn’t sport convenient footholds like windowsills or so. But, it was a challenge and Brandon was a person who liked challenges; they brought quite a bit of thrill with them. A grin formed on his face, his eyes gleaming with the will to complete this challenge, to conquer the wall. And he would! Taking a few steps back, the thief prepared himself, inhaling faster and deeper than usual, forcing more oxygen to his muscles which would –hopefully- slightly enhance them.

His upper body leant backwards briefly before he threw it forward, taking off with his foot propelling him onwards. The distance was short but his legs accelerated faster than he’d thought was possible, the wall closed in quickly. It was now or never, and never being too late, Bran chose now : he jumped. One leg bent deeper than before, the muscles in his thigh expanding due to the tension applied to it. With all his might he pressed his foot harder onto the floor, launching himself skyward. His arms swung themselves up, creating a little extra lift. The wall was closer than ever, his fingers reaching out for the upper edge.

His hands grappled the upside of the wall a moment before his body crashed into the stone hardness. The impact felt like a … well, as if a wall had been thrown into his face. The whole front of Brandon’s body, except his hands and face, crashed into the wall, the only part of his head being hit was his forehead. The collision made his vision go black, red and back to normal, pain screaming to him from everywhere. He felt a little dizzy, painfully dizzy, but he held on to the wall, like a fly smashed by one’s slipper. The thief wanted a few moments to come to, but his fingers were starting to hurt as well, not able to carry his weight for long.

Yet, he couldn’t bring up the spirit to do so, his head felt like it could split open any tick and he felt really nauseous. Part of him wanted to let go, drop down and stay down, but that he couldn’t allow to happen. He’d been trough worse, the beatings his mother had given him to make him more endurable had been far more severe than this, his mauled ribs had been way more painful than this. Strength was not only in the body, but also in the mind; if the mind gave up, all was doomed to fail, yet if not then anything was possible. Brandon believed in this.

So he gritted his teeth, furrowed his brow and tensioned the muscles in his arms. He willed his hands to grab the wall harder, he ordered his triceps and shoulders to haul him up, his feet searched the wall for footholds, but he found none. Then he’d do it without them, only muscle strength and his willpower would bring him up this wall. Flames seemed to feast upon the flesh of his arms and hands, burning and blazing inside. Clipped noises wrestled themselves under his teeth due to the effort, his arms were trembling and his knuckles white. Yet slowly but surely, he managed to shove an upper arm on the small space that made up the top of the wall. Then his other joined, and things went a lot smoother from there. Soon his chest was lying there and he brought his legs up. His arms hung down, feeling deflated, while he took a quick rest to restore his body, to catch his breath. Though he felt like he’d just worn himself out completely, he smiled, content with his victory. He was pleased with himself, proud to have done things the hard way, completing the challenge.

A shadow was cast overhead and the force of habit made the bat look up. Syna was gone, hidden from the glances of the mortals dwelling the land by the clouds. Shyke, if he didn’t want to be outdoors when the first drops fell, he’d have to hurry. With a groan Bran got up, keeping his balance on the wall and strode carefully towards the nearest rooftop. Okay, time to find an orientation point.

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credit goes to Euthisa

by **Brandon Blackwing** on February 16th, 2014, 3:31 pm

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It didn’t take long before he’d found one, the building perched on the second highest point of the entire peak. The white, ancient tower that was the catholicon simply couldn’t be missed and did an excellent job in being a waypoint. Digging in his memory, the bat thought he remembered that the medical facility was positioned on the Tenten peak, so that ought to be the peak he was on now. That was something, but the hardest part came now; deducing which way he had to go in order to get home. He always had trouble doing this. One would think he’d find his way around the crystal city as if it were his own house, yet due to his brain being turned off when he went for a walk, remembering where he was and where he had been always gave him some difficulties.

Looking around was his only option, hoping to catch a glimpse of something familiar, something he might recognize and be his guide. Except for one of the towers belonging to one of the original families of Lhavit, but which one it was he didn’t know. Brandon didn’t really care about politics and as such he forgot every time which tower was which. Not that it really mattered, what was important was the position of it. Seeing as the tower was on his left, and the catholicon in front of him he had to head …. Left. Or not?

Brandon scratched his hair and turned his head towards the left, looking for clues whether this was the right way to go or not. He could see quite a lot of buildings stretching out towards the horizon but not quite reaching it And … were those towers? Two towers standing very close together, they were about the same height, and built in the same style as well … but he couldn’t see it clearly, his eyes were narrowed to narrow slits, in an futile attempt to make out the details. Wait a chime, wasn’t there one of the three towers -Dusk, Dawn and Twilight- which had dual spires? And according to his vague recollections of the location of those towers, he deemed it to be sitting on the Sartu Peak, but he could be wrong.

Following that line of thought, that meant that the heap of buildings he was staring at was in fact the Sartu Peak. That must mean that Zintia Peak was behind him … It made sense. The thief turned one hundred eighty degrees, turning his back at the direction he thought Sartu Peak was situatied in. Now, time to get going, he’d wasted enough time standing here. With that, his body set itself in motion, his legs started to run, his arms swung back and forth. The end of a roof, the adjacent building was a bit higher than this one, but not high enough for him to cease his running. A mere jump was enough to get him there, the dome on top not forming a problem either.

After a quite while his breath came out in exhausted pants, his lungs found it a great idea to start burning as well and his throat felt raw and sore. Even if he hadn’t, he felt as if he’d slowed down to a snail’s pace, barely moving forwards, his step heavy and boorish. He stumbled onto the next building, almost falling on his face but he was able to keep his balance. He stopped to take a quick rest, placing his hands on his knees as he bent over, his gaze fixed in front of him, prying from underneath his brow. From what he could see he guessed that the edge of the peak wasn’t that far away, maybe a chime when he made haste, if he still could.

After having caught his breath more or less, he continued his run, not quite as fast as before, but not slow either, a steady pace he could keep up for a while. The rhythm felt right, his breath exited his lungs every four steps and so did it enter, the beating of his heart still wild, but a controlled kind of wild. Every so often he had to interrupt his pace for a jump over an alley, often with a roll at the end, but somehow he managed to chain it together. It probably had something to do with timing or so.

Eventually, he made it there, the connection between the two peaks came into vision and so did the rock that supported the city. He had to get back on solid ground to cross to the other peak, and his eyes wandered around in order to find a path he could take. There, across the street there was a house that was significantly lower than the rest, it was probably low enough for him to jump down from without hurting himself too much. That being the fasted way, he went with it, launching himself over the street, sailing through the cold mountain air for a tick before his feet hit the roof. His knees bended, his chest coming down and his shoulder taking place in front of it. As it hit the canopy, his tucked itself away and the thief’s momentum made him perform a rolling motion to divide the impact over his body before he could run on.

But he didn’t run, instead he slowed down to walking speed and slowly stepped towards the lower roof. There, he hopped down, landing harder than expected, his boots slamming on the surface. Unfortunately, that was enough force to make lots of cracks appear on the surface of the cypress-bark dome. Thin as hairs, but wide enough to make the part the bat was standing on collapse. A scream of terror left Bran’s throat as the darkness below swallowed him whole.

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credit goes to Euthisa

by **Brandon Blackwing** on February 19th, 2014, 4:14 pm

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Brandon had been lucky, though he didn’t feel like he was himself and his stream of thought had a good reason not to, however following that stream he should feel fortunate. After all, such a fall could have ended worse than with just a few bruises and small wounds on his body. The fall hadn’t been that deep, the building incorporated two stories, and a small table had been standing in the downwards trajectory of the bat and some rubble that once was part of the roof. Now there chamber where he had crashed down was littered with splinters and pieces of broken cypress-bark.

The thief groaned softly, slowly raising to a sitting position, the rubble raining down from his clothes scattering on the ground. The table he fell on had cracked in the middle, which had made contact with the floor now, unable to support the force with which the bat had crashed on its surface. Brandon wriggled from in between the broken table’s upstanding sides, his back aching as if the gods had just given him a severe beating, which might have been true in a way. Bran didn’t pay such trivial matters any heed though, instead he dusted off his clothing and took a moment to take in his new surroundings.

It was dark in the room, well a little darker than outside, twilight covered the chamber with its veil. The light that illuminated the space inside the house only shone through the hole Bran had made per accident. It wasn’t much, the clouds still blocked the lot of Syna’s rays, but it was enough to get a visual on the room he found himself in. His eyes being adapted to a life in the dark helped too. This appeared to be a bedroom, or rather had been a bedroom, whoever lived here, they hadn’t been here in a long while, cobwebs were omnipresent in the corners, and dust was laying on the floor as a thick carpet. The bat could see footsteps betraying the path where he had walked.

But if this place was deserted, this could actually be a golden opportunity, with the stress on golden. The thief bended his knees, lowering his point of gravity in order to gain more control over his step and to lighten and muffle it. Why he should sneak in an empty house he didn’t know, but somehow it felt safer, reassuring. One never knew if a building was truly empty or if it wasn’t … A thief’s paranoia perhaps. Well, better safe than sorry. The bat opened the nearest closet, the doors squeaked as they were forced apart. They were reunited soon though, since the bat couldn’t find anything but robes in their stomach.

Since there didn’t seem to be anything of value present in the chamber, Bran decided it was time to go and discover the rest of the house, searching for coin all the while. For indeed coin wasn’t his main goal in being here, even if him having arrived at this place was by chance and he shouldn’t have had any intentions when coming here, but finding out more about the building was what he was hoping to do. Though these things were normal in deserted places, the absence of sound -apart from the noise he created himself- was wrecking his nerves. It was an eerie silence that lingered around the house, one that grabbed hold of his heart and had gotten ready to stop its beating. The echoes of his boots, no matter how softly he put them down, through the chamber, the bad lighting and the creepy bed –it was a four poster bed- were creeping him out. The absence of life was terrifying, the thought of something lurking in the house, something he couldn’t see, something dead but not quite… It sent chills running over his spine. When he looked down at his hands, he noticed they were trembling.

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credit goes to Euthisa

by **Brandon Blackwing** on February 20th, 2014, 9:55 pm

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A door stood in between him and the rest of the house, blocking the path the thief wanted to take, his way to get out, as well as the way to discover why he felt so uncomfortable being here. Usually when he entered uninvited he felt the adrenaline, the butterflies in his chest and the racing of his heart, but while he experienced those sensations now too, something felt off. The silence, like he had noticed before, but it wasn’t just that. The uncomfortableness was beyond any sensation he’d ever felt when breaking and entering. Something about his current location was differed a lot from normal houses.

However, the sensation was not one he hadn’t known already, not one he had never felt before. It was alike to standing in the middle of a crowd, everyone’s eyes fixed on you, observing your every move. It was like trying to do something, write for example, with someone looking over your shoulder. That feeling. The feeling of being watched, except that there was no-one here. No-one he could see anyway… Or maybe it was just his imagination? No, the feeling was too strong to be the product of his mind, though he knew how paranoia could make a fellow feel. He’d thought he was being followed once, he had been all tense at the time, certain that someone was lurking in the shadows, tailing him. But there hadn’t been anyone around.

If it was just the plain old paranoia the bat would be glad, however the thought that it might just be him being paranoid made him get the feeling that it wasn’t that after all. Maybe it were just his instincts, telling him there was a high chance of danger, that he should get out of this place, the sooner, the better. That did mean that he had to exit this room though, there was no other way. The hole in the roof was too high to reach, but if he shifted…. But leaving his possessions behind was something Brandon’s greed would not allow. Especially so if they were left at a place where he couldn’t retrieve them from.

Create a ladder with the bed? Nah, it was massive, a work of art, the carvings –faintly noticeable in the scarce light due to the shadows- proved that. The canopy bed was probably cut from a singular piece of wood, too heavy to move by himself and besides, it would be too… boring to leave through the way he’d come. It would be far more exciting if he’d search for another way out. Yes, and potentially lethal! His instinct focused on survival, developed to evade danger, tried to persuade him not to go, to leave right here and now. Not that Bran listened.

His hand reached for the doorknob, grabbing it tightly and while his heart raced in his chest and pounded louder than ever before, he turned it all the way and pushed. Nothing happened, a lock kept it in place. The thief released a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding, a feeling of relief flooding the rest of the feelings temporarily. Too bad, we can’t go further. Now we’ll just leave by using the be- Brandon had kneeled down and had taken his lock-picking tools in his hands, clearly he didn’t intend to let a trivial object like a lock stop his advance. Yet, his attempt was in vain as the tools were stopped as soon as they’d entered the keyhole. It seemed the proper tool to operate the lock occupied it currently.

Now what? He couldn’t open it by normal means, so he needed to find a way to force the lock to open. An idea sprang forth into the foreground of his mind, however it wouldn’t be all stealthy and quiet. That could become a problem if there really was someone, no, something dwelling within the bounds of this house. Kicking the door open would certainly attract the attention…. Wait a tick, didn’t doors usually open to the inside? So maybe he should try pulling instead of pushing, something he’d completely forgotten about, pulling. It wasn’t that strange though, since doors swung open towards the inside of a room, he –as a thief- would never have to pull when he opened one, since he was always outside that particular chamber. However in this peculiar situation he was inside, so pulling might actually work.

That was what he then tried, carefully drawing the door inwards when turning the knob. The door, being quite loyal to its master and its home, shrieked with a high pitched metallic voice, in unison with the creaking noise of old wood. The sound set the bat’s teeth on edge, the hairs along the nape of his neck raised to a stand. Brandon was sure that this must have alarmed everyone inside, as it was way too loud to be called quiet. Still, he was left all by himself, alone in the dark and nothing came his way, not another reached his ears. The thief relaxed slightly, letting go of the door and stepping through the opening created.

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credit goes to Euthisa

by **Brandon Blackwing** on February 23rd, 2014, 11:34 am

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The hallway was shrouded in darkness as well, even more than the previous room where there still was some light seeping through the hole he’d made. The uncomfortable feeling, the unspoken threat still hung in the air, stronger than before for a moment and then suddenly it weakened. It was still there though, he could sense it from where he was standing. Weaker, but present. Brandon was shaking, his knees trembled, his hands couldn’t keep still. His heart had started speeding up its beating rhythm, it was now so fast that it seemed that it would give him a heart attack instantly or jump out of his chest and run away by itself.

It wasn’t reassuring at all, knowing that there was something wrong, not now. Usually if he knew there was something off, he could do something about it, but he couldn’t do that now. He could run, that would solve everything! But no matter how scared he was and how much he wanted to leave, part of him wanted to press on, and find out what caused this feeling. That was a part he cursed having, in a situation where something potentially - no certainly- lethal was lurking this was not very good in increasing the odds of his survival. Instead, he could almost feel Dira’s hand on his shoulder, gentle but with enough of a grip to softly lead him to Lhex’s chamber. He half-expected her to be standing behind him, but of course there wasn’t anyone, what let some relief seep into his mind.

Slowly, when his eyes had adapted to the vast blackness ahead, he moved his trembling limbs and took a step forward. And another one, and another one,… until he was carefully treading onwards, feeling better, safer than when he’d been standing still. Yet, the knot in his chest only grew tighter, and he seemed to suffocate with every breath he took in. His hands were clammy, and cold sweat ran down his spine in large salt pearls. Although the hairs on his body had gone back to lying down, those on his neck were still standing upright, telling the bat that whatever waited for him was still there and hadn’t just left. He swallowed.

The thief hadn’t come far yet, only a quarter of the small hallway was lying behind him, one door and a stairway leading down. Bran tried the door first, which was –much to his surprise-not locked. It swung open, its hinges not protesting and revealed an empty room. Something hanging on the wall caught his eye and the bat lifted his foot to step inside. However, that step never touched the ground inside the room, but stopped somewhere in mid-air. He froze when every fiber of his being screamed out not to go inside, to turn tail and run.

It was the uncomfortable feeling, but multiplied a hundred times or so, that had made him stop. Whatever it was, it was inside. A lump formed in his throat and his attempts to swallow it didn’t work. Yet, he inhaled deeply and mustered up his courage, drawing it up from his shoes. One step, that was all it would take, one step to get inside and then two more to reach the wall. It was hard to go against the instinct to run, to ignore the feeling of dread. Impossible actually, one simply could not ignore such thing. Still, the bat succeeded into forcing himself inside. The first thing he noticed was the drop in temperature, it was way colder here than it had been in the hall and that didn’t make sense. It was wrong, his instinct told him, it was here!

He could feel the sweat roll down his nose, having come from his forehead, and all the hairs on his body were standing up again. Two more steps. After the first of the pair he stopped, his breathing had turned into a jittery panting, his eyes wide. He was sure it was right in front of him, invisible, hidden but there, staring him in the eye. He couldn’t take another step forward, his muscles were locked in place by fear. Drops of salty liquid splattered on the floor while his heart thumped louder than ever before and his knees felt like they could give in any moment. However, nothing happened, it just disappeared, he felt it pass him and leave through the open door, taking the cold with it. A shaky smile of relief emerged while he inhaled much needed air.

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credit goes to Euthisa

by **Brandon Blackwing** on February 24th, 2014, 8:25 pm

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What clung to the wall appeared to be wooden boards, nailed into the window frame and barring the windows, sealing them shut. Well, that explained why it was so dark in here, no light could enter through the isolation of the boards. The question was why they hung here, there had to be a reason for that. That reason had to be the same one why they were sealed on the inside and not on the outside. He hadn’t noticed anything abnormal when he’d seen the outside of the house, yet once inside it wasn’t so ordinary after all.

The bat frowned and shrugged then. It wasn’t really his business. His objectives were a little more straightforward: grab the valuables, find a way out and discover the secrets this place must hold. The bat was pretty sure that if he’d find out more about the old building he’d know why the windows were barred as well. That however meant going downstairs, deeper into the heart of the source of his fear, of his running-wild instincts. Having encountered whatever it was he’d felt the presence from, his determination had suffered a mighty blow. To speak the truth he was really tempted to leave through the way he’d come.

Yet, he didn’t want to feel like a coward, fleeing with his tail between his legs. No, his pride didn’t allow that, and neither did his greed. There were valuables to be reaped here, and reaping them he would! So, in the end the bat turned away from the blocked window and stealthily walked out of the small room, heading for the stairs. Though downstairs was the least favourite location the majority of him wanted to be, he pressed on, ignoring all alarm bells and warnings sounding through his brain, setting his body on edge.

Carefully he placed his feet on the first tread of the staircase, his breath held captive in his chest, the thief not realising he had stopped breathing due to being focussed on making as little sound as possible. Not that he succeeded in that, the stairs –darned traitor- started groaning when he reached the third tread, what made Bran duck hastily, hoping with his eyes closed that he wasn’t noticed yet. Though that were foolish thoughts, of course he had been noticed already, the freakin’ object that induced the uncomfortable feeling of terror on him had been right in front of him before he’d even reached the window, and before it had been staring at him, he was sure of that.

Knowing that pretending not to be here wouldn’t work, he jumped down the stairs, landing in a crouch, just far enough not to twist his ankle on the lowest step. Slowly he raised himself, and managed to walk, tiptoeing for no reason, even though the intensity of the stare, of the presence was enough to make him feel as if he’d been drenched in the Springwater fountain. The bat manoeuvred himself into a large room, large objects all over the place, and a mirror on the wall in front of him. Weird, what was that whitish spot peering over his shoulder? Someone standing behind him?! Startled, he turned around fiercely, knocking over a small tea table in the process, only to see no-one there. Had it been his imagination? Could it be that the stress made him see things that weren’t there?

Hugging his chest to protect himself from the cold, the walked on, reassuring himself that he was imagining things, that because he was expecting someone to be here he saw things. Ridiculous! Then why was he shaking and was his heart so very audible? The denial of his mind was weak, not standing a chance against the sharp senses of a bat. No no no, he wasn’t going insane, there was something wrong here, definitely!

Stalking deeper into the chamber, his eye spotted a small box on a table against the wall. Curious the bat was drawn towards it, gazing upon the contents when he lifted the lid. A pearl necklace … Aha! He had been right all along, there were jewels to be grabbed here! Momentarily forgetting about his earlier worries, he snatched the necklace from its resting place and wanted to drop it in his pocket, but threw across the room in a frightened spasm instead. “You accursed thief!” The angry voice boomed through the room while a vase splattered into tiny pieces as it collided with the wall right in front of Brandon’s face.

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credit goes to Euthisa

by **Brandon Blackwing** on February 26th, 2014, 3:57 pm

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Fast as lightening, because of the rushing adrenaline through his veins –kick started due to fright- he turned his face towards the place where the voice had come from. And there he saw it, her, a woman wearing a white dress that seemed to flutter in the wind, even though there was none inside. Her hair did too, and her face was a terrifying mask of fury. Her sudden appearance was enough to make the thief almost die from shock, but what she did after that was what frightened him the most. She opened her mouth to speak again and her voice only underlined her rage.

“How dare you try to take what isn’t yours! Those are mine! MINE!” she cried, each word seemed to force him backwards, until he was pushed to the wall by them. The pressure raised even more as she continued. “I gave you a chance! And you blew it! I shouldn’t have let you open the bedroom door! I should have stopped you then and chased you off, back the way you came!” Her eyes blazed with the promise she still would do that. Brandon’s chest was now feeling crushed, whatever was happening, if should find a way to stop it before some of his ribs would snap.

It wasn’t necessary though, before he could do anything, the weight released him and he fell to his knees, gasping for breath. “I thought you were suspicious when I first laid my eyes on you, and I was right! You dropped in uninvited! You broke my roof! You tried to steal my things! And therefore you shall feel my wrath!” Still recovering, Brandon could only watch how the woman in white grew taller … No, she wasn’t growing, she had started floating, raising higher and higher, her fierce gaze fixed on him and certainly not with joyful things in mind.

At last, he was able to get up, slowly but surely and faced the hovering dame, sweating heavily and panting as if he’d just been running through the whole city. As he did, quite a few objects started to defy gravity and gathered around the woman who grinned mischievously. This was not good! He had to run, now! And he did, racing towards the door, the front door probably. He rattled with the knob, but it was no use, it was sealed shut, locked and there was no key to be seen.

”FOOL!” the white-clad female thundered “Did you really think I’d let you get away with this so easily?!” The bat pressed his back against the wooden door and prayed for it to open, but it didn’t. His eyes widened as the woman pointed at him and all the objects came flying his way. He had to dodge, but his body couldn’t move. His mind froze him in place, stark and stiff due to fear. Luckily, his body took over what his mind could not accomplish and rolled out of harms way, the pans, kettles, cutlery and other kinds of random objects crashed into the place he’d been standing just a moment ago.

That had brought him back to his senses, and even though he was terrified, or rather because he was terrified, he grabbed the closest thing he could find –a three-legged stool- and threw it as the shrew. His aim was rather steady for someone who was trembling more than the crystal city had during the quake last season, and would have hit her if she hadn’t suddenly disappeared and reappeared back on the floor. The stool hit the wall and was on its way down when it suddenly stopped, hovering in the air. Then, without warning, it propelled itself his way, obviously aimed for his head, much faster than one could have thrown it. The fury laughed at his hurry to get out of its way. “What’s wrong, your skin seems to be so pale? And that expression of yours, it’s as if you’ve just seen a ghost!”

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credit goes to Euthisa

by **Brandon Blackwing** on February 28th, 2014, 7:38 pm

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A ghost? So that’s what she was, or claimed to be anyways, it mattered not to Brandon, except that his fear now had been given a name nothing had changed. Usually when he first met something new he was exited, but not now, instead he felt his insides liquefy and hoped his expression wasn’t one of pure terror, so he could at least try to talk back without being ridiculous. That obviously wasn’t going to work, since his eyes were about the size of his fists and surrounded by a mask of despair. Yet, he gave it a try.

“A ghost? Ha! Don’t make me laugh-“ his voice however trembled as much as his knees, so his attempt to sound tough was in vain and he was interrupted by the spectre before he had spoken for more than five ticks. “Laugh?! You look more as if you can burst out into tears any moment! Don’t make me laugh, like hell! I am a ghost, thief, and it wouldn’t be wise to doubt my words! Though, if you desire proof,” she whispered in his ear from behind him while running a finger from his lower eyelid down to his cheek, “I will give you some.” Her touch was cold, painfully so and the bat could have been made out of wood as his limbs denied the use of them again. His left eye started tearing, undoubtedly the caused by her touch. Then, his legs were pulled from underneath his body by an invisible force and the bat could just break his fall with his hands before his face kissed the floor.

The shrew was nowhere to be seen, however her laugh crackled out of thin air as the thief was lifted into the air, held at his legs. He flailed wildly, kicking his free leg and jolting his body, but it didn’t help at all. It was then that his first scream tore itself out of his throat, one packed with fright, helplessness and horror. He flew around the room, crashing into walls, but he wasn’t being released. He screamed, he begged and tears ran over his face as his nerves reached their limits, this was more than he could take. He felt absolutely helpless, helpless and bruised. There was nothing he could do, he couldn’t fight back, he couldn’t hit anything he couldn’t see nor feel. It was that sensation of being totally helpless that drove him over the edge, that reduced his usually collected persona to that of one of a child that experiences the nameless fear of the dark, of the monsters under his bed. Of the nightmares haunting his sleep. He couldn’t take it any longer.

Before long, although it felt like ages, the force withdrew from his leg and he sailed through the air, crashing into the door that swung open by the force of the hit. “Be gone!” a voice hissed in his ear as his back landed roughly on the stones, knocking over an Okomo statue. The thief didn’t have to be told twice, scrambling to his feet as the door slammed shut all by itself, he hastily spurted away, not caring were he was heading, as long as it was far away from the creepy house with its frightening inhabitant.

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credit goes to Euthisa

by **Catastrophe** on April 22nd, 2014, 3:53 pm

Brandon Blackwing :

Notes :

Solo The uninvited are not welcome!