Post by Deilakrion on Jun 2, 2008 22:22:34 GMT -5
"Don't wake me up; I am still dreaming. The story's undone, unraveled at the seams. Don't wake me up; death is misleading and when I fall asleep, sleep with a ghost."
-- "Don't Wake Me Up" Hush Sound
Senka turns and turns and turns as she continues to hear the cries of monsters so familiar yet not familiar at all, just out of sight. Yet what is there to hide behind? There is nothing but scorching sand and the storms in the distance, their rumble running through her bones and too far away to be the source of the odd animal-like sounds. "Who’s there?" a woman’s voice demands, not husky and rough but smooth and trained with years of use, so unlike the almost bestial way she normally talks when in this form forced upon her from time to time. The foreign sound is enough to have the albino pause, a hand coming up to her smooth throat in wonder only to blinks at the lack of a weight that she has become used to. That alone is enough to distract her of both the noises somewhere near yet far, and the odd sound of her clear voice. The collar, where is the collar? Does this mean she’s…free again? There is a hissing of sorts, the sound of shifting sand, nearby and immediately the woman whips around to face the intruder as fickle and easily distracted as ever. "Who-" the question is cut off as an adorable boy comes running towards her, chubby hands reaching to embrace her short, shocked form as his face is pressed against her belly. There is time for his tiny fingers to curl around the fabric of her dress for Senka has all but frozen in her shock until finally she responds. A choked sound, an almost formed word, escapes the female as she stares down at a head full of white curls, the sound soon drawing attention of the small boy. Clear blue eyes lock with bewildered red as a toothy grin, besides the two missing teeth, is offered, "Mommy!" Immediately Senka gasps and stumbles back, out of his hold and horrified at the sight as much as she is by the longing –tug- on her heart. But even as she stumbles the boy disappears like a mirage; though she can just barely make out the form of a taller man bending down to lift him… "Pup?" the word feels suddenly foreign on her tongue, as if not often used, and there is barely enough breath to support it even to a carrying whisper. A heartbeat passes, then another one but then slender fingers reach up to tangle in silky white hair as a strangled, "no!" escapes her. The word is repeated over and over again as the petite woman falls to her knees, screaming in panic, hysteric as she never would be secure in her wolf’s form. The wolf she knows but the woman…the woman she, somewhere, also is… "This is not real! It can’t be real! I’m not human," The term makes her pause, red eyes wide and frightened like that of a caged animal as she hoarsely, but not in the familiar husky way, corrects herself, "Two-walker. I’m –not- a two-walker…" The wind merely makes sand dance, against her face and form in a silent mocking of her weakness. Weakness…how foreign the emotion, and how true it must be as the storm seems to brew in the distance and the sand grows to a scorching heat.
The shadow magic surged towards Joliette, and the woman cried out at the sudden flow of necromancy. Creature flailed, trying to tug her hand back towards her chest. Behind her, Hunt and Monster yet had their hands pressed together, and there was a shout, and a flash of light. Creature looked deep into the eyes of Joliette, and she sensed more than saw the other's desire to end it, to scrape her from being and once more end. . .the. . .end the farce. The light increased in volume, and this time it was creature's turn to tumble. The red mist engulfed her, and Hunt was screaming at her, she could hear: "Fight it, little one!" Monster was cursing up a storm, and then red replaced everything. The creature was yelling now, baying out her confusion and anguish at being taken from Hunt once more. Yet, Vilaelia was gone: creature had killed that other self with the approval of Hunt, and now it was She who would haunt the crooked passages of creature's mind. Creature was thankful for that, but those stray thoughts vanished as she hit dirt. Her body tumbled over the ground, speed diminishing until she halted, bruised and bloody. The recent events had left her quite a mess, but that was no matter to the elf. She was tough. She would endure. She let herself lay on the dirt, collecting scents and impressions, feeling her mortality seeping in bursts of pain to her brain. She took a deep breath. No, not dirt. It was sand, again, and her blood was soaking into it. Dry. Barren. She could smell a faint, teasing hint of rain, and she was suddenly terribly thirsty. She stood up, and caught another teasing scent. She knew it somewhere within her mind, and she pushed upright, standing on shaky legs. She would find this elusive quarry. Time to hunt.
Senka whimpers and rocks herself, repeating her denial over and over again as lightning flashes that much closer, its rumble harsh enough to blow more sand over her kneeled form. The sand whips her harsh enough to make her flinch, the petite woman looking all that smaller when there is no sign of her too-large ego and no fangs to guard herself with. Yet along with the sand comes a scent she recognises, the lycan hardly ever forgets a scent, faces and names yes, but never a scent. There is another around, of that much the albino is certain, one she has seen before and it's that, that distracts her from the scorching heat of the sand and the just as scorching truth of what has just happened. The ship is showing her things Senka does not want to see, reveling in her blind eye and her lack of insight of her own emotions, but if the wolf knows anything it s how to fight. Red eyes once again become fierce when there is another she may have to fight, and slowly her clad form raises to it s height that is not so impressive. But she knows how to be impressive and so with a new stubbornness that awakens the storms surrounding her to the point where it is not only sand but also the fabric of her dress that whips against her body and causes her to flinch, Senka ignores the tiny footprints of the truth of her heart. They re-walked over without a glance, trudged over in search of that elusive scent the albino isn't sure she truly smelled anymore. This place: this place is messing with her mind until she can't even trust her own instincts. It's time to escape, then.
She did not like the heat. She remembered that clearly. She slipped easily into a hunting stance, and moved with quick feet over the sand. The wind was working to her favor, this time, though the sand granules were kicked up into her face. She grinned, and brandished the claw Hunt had given her. Quickly now, with whole mind and whole purpose. She revelled in it, delighting in the feel of her body without the weight of another. Her mind spun, and spun again. She did not notice Monster tailing her-- nor would she have cared even if she did see. The Monster had changed into a billowing white wrap that covered its lower face and hair. Grey streaks shot through that cloth, and it was precision that the Monster retraced creature's steps. It was grinning wickedly beneath the wrap, mirroring creature's own grin. The woman crested a slope and stared down onto a form, clothed as she had been clothed; but now only tatters remained upon creature's form. They whipped in the wind, and creature held the silver claw aloft. It glinted in the sun. "Good hunting!" She called, her voice growled. It cut the distance, the bellow decimating the near-silent land. She began her descent, eyes gleaming wickedly as she made her way to the other. Monster remained on the crest, watching. It would be the witness to the clash between the two wild hearts.
Senka doesn’t think, doesn’t pause, but merely looks up at the cry of one that –does- posses the rough edge she once held. The pale blue of her dress seems all that paler as her face flushes with excitement, her heartbeat speeding as a feral grin, finally feral again, twists her _expression and the single white scar upon it. White hair flashes, her gown dances, as the two-walker speeds towards the other without thinking, pale toes sinking into hot sand but never relenting in speed. But even her body seems slower, not trained like before as needed to survive each day, and her senses are dull now that she’s trapped into a body that has always preferred a two-walker form over her ‘true’ one. Nevertheless her eyes show her arrogant confidence as she tries to growl, but still speaks in that disgustingly clear voice, "Good hunting!" Caught up in the presence of the other as she is, with the storm howling in her ear in a way she cannot, not anymore, Senka fails not notice those animal sounds again. Fails to notice how they’re stronger then before. Fails to notice, that it’s not only Monster who is watching. All she cares about is lunging her petite form at the stronger one of this new challenger and –win-. Forget about the hot sand, the constricting fabric of her gown or her uselessly long hair, forget all except who she has been in the past. Who she needs to become again…
Dulcinea hadn't exactly been planning on coming this way. Leaving Vailkrin was one thing, but the city of Cenril was not one of her usual stops. Seeing as how the Hanging Corpse Tavern was not up to receiving packages, the healer's usual shipment of hard-to-come-by herbs and supplies weren't going to be conveniently delivered. The fact of the matter was that she needed to get a hold of her order and she had decided a little adventure wouldn't really hurt her. Except of course, now, she couldn't really say that. Holding the edge of her dark, billowly cloak up to her nose, she attempted to keep the stench of the area from affecting her. Dulci had been pointed here from the town, her package having been returned to the ship from whence it came. Hesitantly, she approached the intimidating vessel, clearing her throat before warning of her presence. "Hello? Anybody home?"
Cervantez cruised through the city streets of Cenril after experiencing a rather fulfilling meeting with an intruiging vampiress in Kelay. A most odd of ventures, as a lycan finding some interest in a vampiress, but work was at hand. He knew a hunt was to take place within the next sunrise or so, so preparations were not far from neccessary. Cervantez came upon the sight of a ship, and dragged his jagged, patterned nails across the exterior of his leather attire and approached it nonchalantly. He slashed quickly, gutting through the seemingly rotted wood for a handhold; piercing his way to the top as he climbed the ship's outer wall. Soon enough, he came upon an open window and tumbled in as his unruly spiked hair, hanging down to a healthy portion of his back sheilded his body from view for a split moment until he rose to his feet once more. After surveying his surroundings quickly with smoky grey eyes, his gruff, German-accent voice carried through as he spoke as soft as possible; with the reverb of a lawnmower. "Ich frage mich....what is held between these walls..."
The challenge had been accepted, and now it must be met. The creature bared her teeth and rushed inwards towards the wolf-turned-human. This one was worthy. She knew that, knew it in the depths of her skull often untravelled. She still felt fresh, though her fight with Vilaelia had worn her, and she was still losing blood from her myriad of cuts. The wind sang, and she whirled towards Senka, leaping the last few steps off of the dune to bring her silver talon whistling down upon the other, quickly diving back to keep her guard closed. She did not notice the gathering storm of others, no more than Senka. So when a small form darted into her back, she cried out in horror, and fell to a knee. She was wary of the form before her, still, and so rolled to the side. She did not see what had attached itself to her back, but she felt the sharp prick of claws; the hard gnash of teeth. The warm breath of another tickled her neck, and she threw herself backwards. Perhaps it wasn't Senka alone who had nightmares to face, monsters to see. Above them both, Monster was yelling warnings.
Misha wanders towards the haunting ship that seemed to be calling her name. Seemed to want her to go inside. She traced the delapidated wood with a fingertip before an earth shattering scream. She peered her head inside quickly to see the two...things fighting. They did not appear human. Misha sensed the air and determined that one was a lycanthrope and the other...she did not know. The scream still reverbrating through her blood, Misha walked quietly towards the two that were engaged in battle. She suddenly felt something overcome her, a power that nearly made her collapse to the ground. She suddenly saw red, saw nothing but the blood coating the fighting pair. She wondered what this strange sensation was. She tried to fight the urge to join the bloodbath, but soon found the call too irrisistable. She, in a complete antithesis of herself, jumped full on to the wolf-human and proceeded to dug her nails into the fur, trying to sever the flesh underneath.
Koranis takes a short look around the top deck of the ship with his dark red eyes, his long black hair lifting from his shoulders due to the breeze of the sea air. He peers down through a few missing planks, seeing nothing but darkness, he lifts his head once more to take another quick scan of the area before jumping down below. He blinks several times as his eyes start to ajust to the lack of light. He moves his left hand to his throat with a sharp frown. His throat felt dry, he'd came so thristy for a reason he could not grasp. He opens his mouth to let out a hacking cough, his fangs clearly visable as he starts to make his way around the labyrinth whilst breathing heavily.
Senka was forced to a sudden stop as the woman, the challenger, stops right in front of her eyes. Fierce red eyes widen in surprise but there is no pity in them, nor does the urge to help arise; nature is nature after all, and if her challenger doesn t survive then they were simply not meant to fight. Hair and fabric swaying annoyingly, the albino only has time to brush strands of silver from her eyes before she too topples over by a sudden weight that seems to be all hairs, claws and fangs and then it's not only Deilakrion that's forced to fight off an unwanted attachment. Instinctively, for the wolf is still in there somewhere, pale hands clasp around a hairy throat and the woman is left to stare at what seems to be the other side of one of her battles. A wolf looms over her, snapping with drooling hungry teeth and intent on ripping her throat out, only held back by trembling arms and slender fingers tangled in its fur. She tries to snarl, but it feels unnatural in this new body the ship has given her and the horror of it all seems unreal. Those hungry eyes seem unreal since they re not her own, that lust for blood that falls of its form in waves But Senka is known to be stubborn for a reason and without thinking she rolls over, the slope giving her strength and as speed is gained the woman manages to escape it s clawed hold. Yet just as she s struggling to raise from that scorching sand, the wolf has already recovered and pounces again so that she s forced to throw her weight to the side or risk getting bitten. Is this how her prey felt? Is this what it means being a two-walker? It's no wonder she's chosen her other side! The storm howls in her place, for her human-vocals cannot reach the right pitch, and sand becomes almost unbearably hot, as hot as her temper. Without thinking the woman-once-wolf throws herself at the four-legged-creature as it approaches, skilfully avoiding teeth and claw and initiating a new roll down the slope. Two-walker or no, fighting is still in her blood
Dulcinea hoists herself up and over the side of the ship, having finally managed to find a way on board. Frowning, she wondered if all shipping vessels were usually this deserted while in port...or this dirty. Making a face, she carefully picked her way over the debris strewn deck of the ship. "Hello? Where the hell is everyone?" Muttering and offering a few slight curses, she turned around to make her way back to the side where she could hopefully make it to the ground without receiving serious injury. "That's the last time..." Pausing in mid-stride, she turned slightly, her head cocking to the side as she faintly heard the sound of voices. No more than mere whispers, she could hear them and she had the strangest sensation they were calling her. Shaking her head, Dulci started forward again. "Preposterous, now I'm hearing this...I shoulda just stayed with the vampires and the dr-...." Trailing off mid-sentence, she turned back again, her cloak whirling around her in a suitably dramatic fashion as the voices got louder. There were no distinct words, just muffled noise, rising in volume with the wind. Vaguely, she realized that the charged atmosphere pointed towards a heavy storm and that she wasn't exactly comfortable outside in bad weather. Inexorably, she found her feet moving her forward towards a doorway, the faint outline of stairs leading downwards all she could see. "Hello? I'm just here for my package..." Very soon she would find herself in the doorway, one foot paused on the top stair, the voices louder than ever.
Senka's barren land seemed to grow less distinct to the creature as the sense of other grew. The sky no longer winked merrily, nor did the sun glow with the fervor of the battle. No, something else was afoot. Shadows grew and gathered, and somewhere it seemed the ship was laughing, and the Labyrinth twisted in response. Not even an hour previous the creature had seen the myriad assortment of oddities she had killed, and it seemed they were stalking without Hunt to keep them at bay. At once something twisted within that odd mind, as she ripped the thing clinging to her back from her body and flung it with a wiry arm. It wasn't supposed to be this way, it wasn't supposed to smell or sound or ------ something was flashing. It preyed at her mind, and she stumbled and fell to the side of Senka and Misha, clutching at her head. Beyond them, Monster -- now appearing as a man wrapped in form-fitting cream cloth with bursts of mint-green; face painted white with green splotches with a shock of forest-green hair and dark, dark eyes -- finished its own pass down the slope. Creature staggered upright, and saw that indeed there was darkness gathering around the edges. Perhaps she was delusional, but they seemed real enough. It was a nightmare brought to life as dark fanged shadows drew closer. The creature gripped the silver talon and darted in at the closest. She was protective. She turned, and saw Senka going against the other wolf, and words were torn from her throat. "No!" The urge gripped her again. She ran towards the pair even as the nightmares gave chase, talon held high and ready to cut down upon Misha's form. Behind them all, Monster was working a spell. He was opening a rabbit-hole that if caught within would tumble a body down into Monster's own domain. Creature's foot was caught as she moved towards Senka, and for the second time she found herself falling backwards with a horrid scream rippling from her mouth. The Labyrinth had its own twists and turns, and she would never be allowed to stay still. She watched as Senka and the other gradually grew smaller, until darkness swallowed all and she found herself on a golden blanket that stretched quite wide. Monster appeared before her, its form-fitting outfit colored green this time, and his face and hands painted a dull brown. Instantly the creature was on guard, talon up and facing out. She intended to draw blood, this time.
Misha was so intent on the blood of the wolf that she did not register the arm that was attempting to fling her off until she was plastered to the floor. Sure that a few bones in her body were broken, Misha attempted to crawl towards the doorway to exit the room , this new power overflowing all her senses with thoughts of only blood. The only coherent thought besides escape was of the blood. It was like she was a vampire with the way she seemed to crave it with every fiber of her being. How she seemed to want to plunge her hand into her enemy and remove its still-beating heart. Misha shuddered with disgust at herself. One small phrase leaving her lips before another descent into madness, "So much...blood...Why?" Then she felt a sharp talon digging into the flesh just below her ribs. Her scream filled the room as she rolled away, desperatly trying to stop the bleeding.
Koranis drops to his knees, his hands placed out onto the floor infront of his as he continues to cough. His thirst becomming almost unbareable. He plunges his hand into the bag daggling from his belt, sliding out a bottle of blood wine. He quickly rises it to his lips only to spit the contense onto the cold floor he was knelt on. He tips the bottle upside down, the liquid had turned to ash, it flowing out of the bottle and between his fingers. He throws the bottle into towards the wall out of frustration, shattering it as it makes impact with the hard stone wall of the labyrinth. He starts to laugh controlably, he can't seem to understand why he found all of this so amusing. "Maybe I'm loosing it.." He thinks to himself as he slowly raises his head, his strands of his long black hair covering his face. His mouth slowly twisting into a demented smirk as he hears the sreams of pain. Quickly jumping and making a desperate sprint towards the location of the agonising scream.
Too much is happening for Senka to process it all, not without her usual sharp senses to aid her. The world continues to spin and spin as fabric, fur and limbs tangle, neither she nor the wolf seemingly able to get the upper hand. The woman only manages to get short flashes, a stranger who’s smell she can barely make out above the stench of the wolf’s breath, the challenger moving towards her only to stumble and then the sky which is twisting and twisting and forming clouds but how can that be when the sand is hot enough to burn her flesh? Pale white strands of long hair tangle in claws, ensnare her in the wolf’s hold as the world goes black and consist only of fur until everything else surely has disappeared. Sound ceases, as does smell and sight until slowly everything comes back. She’s alone, always alone, in a fresh smelling place, lying on something soft this she knows but Senka doesn’t seem able to open her eyes yet. It takes the sound of a snapping branch for her to sit up, a choked gasp escaping her throat, raw again and familiar. Her left eye seems a bit dazed, as if unable to sharpen though her right eye has no problem with taking in the sight of a forest, moist in the morning dawn. Another snap, and fierce red eyes turn to feast upon the sight of a familiar memory. Her alpha, back in the days where he still liked her enough to raise his ears as he does now. A sigh escapes her before a sudden flash brings her back within the scorching desert, besides a woman reeking of blood. Confused now, not sure where she is, she can only stare as Mischa tries desperately struggles for life within her reach. There is no pity in that red gaze, only confusion as the albino stares at the woman she’s kneeling besides, the sand burning her knees through the fabric of her dress until a droplet lands neatly on the crown of her braid. Looking up, the wolf-turned-woman is surprised to see water fall, the storm finally giving in as thunder echo’s loud enough through the barren wasteland of her soul to run a tremble through her bones.
Dulcinea found her own breathing harsh to her ears. The noise of the growing storm couldn't even drown it out. One step after another brought her deeper and deeper into the recesses of the ship. Not even a thought as to why a shipping vessel would be so abandoned entered her mind at this point. This was no longer about her package. A whisper in her ear and she was twisting about, wide-eyed, breath caught in her throat. Of course at the moment, there was no one there. Another step downwards and her foot caught in her cloak, momentum pitching her forward, to tumble the last few steps into the winding darkness. A small screech would follow her down and as she landed, she heard the shatter of glass somewhere in the distance. The ship didn't seem to be so vast from the outside, but she suddenly got the impression of a great, empty, waiting space. Using the wall to help gain her feet, she squinted into the darkness, using her hands to follow the wall as she propelled herself forward. "Hello?" A scream would stop in her tracks, the sound of a woman's misery triggering a healer's impulse to find and help. "Where are you?" Faster and faster she would make her way through the dark, heedless of anything that might impede her progress.
The sand was gone. The sky was gone. The sun was gone. Darkness persisted in all directions but for the ground and blanket creature sat upon, which glowed in a pale light that was enough to see Monster and --looking down-- herself quite clearly. Feelings rushed through her head: outrage, anger, fear, exasperation. . .and then strangest of all was a yearning. She wanted to be somewhere the Hunt would be able to take her, and then she could run and fight in a world that made sense. Nothing was making any sense. Her mind was near dazed with all of the changes taking place, and only the silver glint of the talon within her fist kept her from reeling into the infinity of her own insane mind. Monster was watching her carefully, and towards it she sent a scowl and glare that might have been dangerous had she control to her trembling limbs. She would blood the Monster. So when it spoke to her, she jerked as though the sound hurt her. Perhaps it would. "I was unable to find your companion, little creature. Tenebrae has vanished from my awareness, and I was only able to follow you narrowly. Where are you?" Its voice was angry enough to match the creature's latest emotional frame of mind. The woman pushed a finger around the blanket, reveling in its smooth softness. The talon was still pointed at Monster. She stood up casually, and walked towards it. Her feet made no noise in that strange place, but the blanket was so welcoming and inviting. She reached Monster and slashed the talon through the air, aiming to slice his cheek open with wicked grace. . .but her talon only cut air, and it was with mocking solemnity that Monster smirked at her. "I could not follow you physically. Where are you?" Creature growled at that, and backed away with teeth bared and stiff limbs. Its words were disturbing and strangely resonant, tripping thoughts that she didn't think she wanted to think. She put her free hand up to her head, and glowered mightily. The Monster looked alarmed as the creature concentrated, and put out a hand. It was shouting something at her, but it wavered and vanished. Suddenly, Senka was in front of her again, and this time it was creature who put out a hand, reaching to touch the woman.
Koranis continued to race throught the twists and turns of the stone labyrinth. His thirst for blood almost taking complete control over his sanity, it had never been like this, he had never had such a thirst for blood like this. He threw the thoughts aside, blood was the only thing his mind was focused on. He soon starts to hear the foot steps and heavy breathing from Dulcinea. He comes to a sudden halt at the end of a corridor, peering down the utter darkness of the corridor to his left, he can make out a Dulcinea's silhouette slowly making it's way down the corridor towards him. The demnented smirk widens as he folds his arms across his chest, waiting for it to get closer to him.
Senka flinches the moment fingers touch her, immediately pulling away though it doesn’t feel nearly as unnatural to be touched as it usually does. Again the albino is thrown off by the odd feelings and habits of this form, the one she doesn’t get and it isn’t long before blood red eyes fix on Deilakrion instead. A snarl escapes the woman but it’s too clear and not nearly as sincere enough and it doesn’t take long before the confused she-wolf scrambles to her feet, away from the woman that seems to disappear within the sand, merciless as always. "What’s going on?" the question more or less escapes her as pale feet walk over hot sand, sand so different from the icy rain that slowly but steadily begins to fall with more frequently and strength. In the distance, the storms howl and complain again, clouds twisting as pale fingers burry in paler hair. "I don’t get any of this!" And it’s no surprise, it’s only rarely that the wolf is confronted by magic let alone while being this ‘weak’. Her questions are cut of however as the howl of the storm is met with howls of creatures far more used to uttering the sound. It seems that the pack has returned but as the albino turns to face them, automatically, they do not look nearly as friendly as in that brief flash in the forest. Red eyes can only widen I a way they’ve never done outside of this ship, widen in horror. Facing one wolf is one thing, but an entire pack…?
Dulcinea focused on the sound her shoes made against the hard planks of the deck beneath her. For some odd reason, she found the repetitive noise soothing. Why she was still making her way into the darkness, she wasn't sure. But something, maybe the voice, maybe her odd sensitivity to the emotions of her surroundings, compelled her on. She winced as a crack of thunder filled the confines of the below decks, the smell of burning ozone strong in her nostrils as she halted for a moment. Her muscles tensed as she realized that she was no longer quite alone. "Hello?" Hesitantly, she called out, pushing away from the wall, desperately hoping that she wasn't about to make a terrible mistake.
/:: The touch sent a small shock through Deilakrion, and she closed her eyes for an instant. Just a second! Then the skies were opening up, sending a deluge of water down. It pounded into the creature, and suddenly the contact was broken. She flailed outward, hearing the growls start up around her, and the shadows were sure to return. But then the water was up to her knees, and then it was cresting her collarbone. She started to move for higher ground when she found herself plunged deep into the water with no bottom in sight. She paddled water, gasping for breath, and looked about herself. Somewhere, she thought she heard someone calling and struggled to swim forward. Yet her limbs were sluggish, muscles straining with the effort to sustain herself above the water. She tilted her head back, and gasped for air. Was it possible the creature was afraid of drowning? She had never been in a situation as such before. She did not swim so often. She looked around herself, chin dipping under the water and lips catching water that she choked on before spitting out. Below her, shadows gripped at her ankles, tugging her down into the deep blue depths. "Help!" She cried, piteously. Her head went under, and she struggled valiantly upwards. "Help!" She shrieked, lungs stretching with the effort. Then her head was under, and with the talon in hand she twisted to kill her tormenters.
Koranis lightly licks his lips as he sees Dulcinea slowly come towards him, his long elven ears twitch at the sound of Deilakrion's cries for help what's left of his sanity screaming at him to go help her. He soon shakes the thoughts away, after all, this is about his desire for blood now. He out stretches his left arm towards Dulcinea. The black winged snake coiled tightly around his right arm hisses protectivly as she comes closer. "I'm here, don't be afraid, I'm not here to harm you.." He spoke in a husk dry voice, the thick darkness masking the demented grin placed across his mouth.
Isen makes his way into view, his countenance brightening visibly when he sees the ship. His nose wrinkles a bit at the smell of decaying flesh, but he ignores it, for the most part. Cautiously, he makes his way over to the wreckage, stepping carefully around the dead fowl. Nimbly, he hauls himself on board, and begins poking around. His curiosity eventually takes him down below, where he suddenly begins to feel...strange. He finds himself surrounded, not by the expected wooden walls of a ship, but by a stark white maze, inexplicably well-lit, and dead silent. Something feels wrong, though. He glances down at himself, stunned as he glimpses a body free of tattoos, dressed in animal hides, and carrying a long bow, the quiver of arrows swinging from his hip. He stands there for a long moment, in complete shock.
Dulcinea pauses as she feels something disturb the air beside her, the ever present aura of danger starting to close about her. Turning in a circle, she searches in vain to be able to see the other in the darkness with her. "That's not as comforting as you might've meant it." Licking her suddenly dry lips, she made a quick decision, side stepping, she threw herself against the far wall, feeling about for a cooridor, a door, and opening, anything. Her mind screamed at her to 'flee, flee!' and she could hear the voices laughing and taunting her, turning her worry into something more akin to panic. What was she doing here? This wasn't meant for her. This was the sort of chaos she had experienced once before and it had cost her dearly. Her hand suddenly left the wall, touching air and she threw herself backwards, hoping that she was faster than whatever predator had set its sights on her. "Leave me alone!"
Deeper and deeper she was dragged. She flicked her talon around her ankles, severing clawed monstrosities like butter. Her mouth opened in a growl, and she sucked in water. Time slowed as she panicked, attempting to expel the water only to suck in more. Her body ached, and her lungs were screaming at her for air with a need that she had no way of meeting. She clawed at her throat, at her ankles, at the water. Creature searched for anything that would allow her to live and breathe. Between one heartbeat and the next she had landed upon solid ground, and the water floated away above her until she could choke and gasp and writhe around on the ground, vomiting water. She crouched and shook and cried with relief for her lungs. The ivory rose up around her, mocking her. The shadows surrounded her, grinning with blackened delight. She looked at them, too tired to fight. This was it, she felt: this was the next step. But how could she rise above when her limbs were weighted with fatigue? She had to endure. The thought was nought but another fragment, and warily she pushed herself up. Her legs groaned, and her arms whimpered with effort, but she stood. Shaking, cold and wet. It was dark, and she could barely see around herself, but she placed her feet in the first few steps. She could almost hear Hunt's voice, it's seductive sound urging her to fight, to kill. Creature nodded, and began to move. Forward, when one lunged at her. She whipped the talon around and bled darkness to splatter against the ivory. Backwards, upon the recoil, when another jumped to take the place of the first. Time was still slow, and her hair whipped around as she danced upon her toes, trading places and swapping partners as the deadly tango became serious. Her voice rose in grunts and taunts as she cried out her desire to live in primal fury. She would do it. She had to. Around her, the shadows were laughing.
Koranis slowly ertorts his arm, taking a few small steps forwards towards Dulcinea, his heavy leather boots, making a thud with each impact with the solid floor it makes. "You want out of here don't you? So do I, this place.." He pauses to take a long glance around the shadow filled corridor. "It's not natural, it would make sense for us to travel together...for safty.." his voice still dry and husk as he lets out a short cough after speaking due to his almost unbarable thirst. He slowly stretches his hand out to Dulcinea once more. The dark demented smirk still masked by the shadows of the corridor.
Isen , trembling, stretches out a hand to press against the walls, testing their reality. A feeling of nakedness fills him, the absence of the runes nearly crippling him, the desire to curl up in a corner nearly overwhelming. He opens his mouth, calling forth a string of galdra, his intent to turn the walls temporarily invisible, a feat which he known he can accomplish. But, to no avail. The magic sputters and dies, it seems, as the wall remains unaffected. The apparent half elf shakes his head, as if to deny this impossibility, and reaches to his shirt. The animal skins tear easily, and he stares down at his bare chest, the skin unmarred by the horrendous scar that Isen has become accustomed to. But, at last, a comforting fact; leather straps hold Isen's precious disk firmly in place, the chunk of stone warm to the touch, and growing warmer. Isen traces a hand across it, for confidence, and strings his bow, setting an arrow against the string. Thus armed, he sets off down the hallway, his bare feet moving silently across the spotless floor.
Dulcinea moved around the sound of the other's footsteps, hoping to stay out of his reach. She could feel his desire to catch her, whatever his intent, and she had no compulsion to allow him closer to her than he was now. "Yes, that would make sense. But why should I believe it would be safer with you than without?" A sudden whisper against her ear, sent her in the opposite direction from whence she was moving, connecting bodily with the other speaking to her. She froze, sudden fear and a rush of emotions filling the empath as the voices laughed at her predicament. Her heart beat thudded in her ears, her chest rising and falling beneath her corset with each shallow breath she took. She would of course attempt to move away, having no desire to be pushed up against this unknown person. "Let me pass."
Sweat was flowing freely now, and blood from many small nips and scrapes. The walls seemed to shake with glee as they were splatted with varying forms of liquid: the only spectator to the gruesome scene. Creature was short of breath, and gasping as she deftly whipped the talon through the little maurauders. With each bite, each drop of blood shed by her, they were becoming clearer and clearer. They appeared like little imps: tormentors of lost souls, some might say. Creature was indeed a lost soul, and this the hell where wicked beings like she were tumbled. She had killed much, vanquished much -- the entire place felt like a final hunt. But no! No, she had Hunt! She would not die! She growled anew, sweat whipping off around her as she twisted her body down, stabbing an imp with one and grabbing another by the throat. Several had found their way onto her back, and her furious howls resounded as they tore chunks out of her flesh. She slammed herself backwards, kicking out with a leg as another got too close. Then, an opening was spotted, and she began to run. She would have to find a choke; some way of cutting down the numbers easier. They seemed endless to her spinning mind, and she would have to -- she stopped as the white wall suddenly dead-ended. Another latched onto her hair, and she bent over to rip it off. She growled as they overwhelmed her, and no matter how she twisted or dodged they found a way to cling to her skin, until she showed more red than tan. But if she were to go down, she would go down fighting, and she roared at them in feral anger.
Koranis blinks his dark red eyes as Dulcinea makes impact with him. He uses the out stretched left arm to try and take a light grip of her shoulder. He peers at her face for a moment, being able to see her features from the range, he peers at her eyes seeing the fear they spew out to him he stops the demented smirk, not wanting to scare her further that she might try and flee he flashes her a reasuring smile before opening his mouth to speak, his sharp vampiric fangs clearly visable to her as he does so. "So you can run off further into the darkness? To them? You are safer with me, trust me.."
Isen rounds a turn or two, the silence remaining unbroken, save for the sound of his own breathing. As he takes a left, his hand clamped over teh now uncomfortably hot disk, he catches sight of something out of the corner of his eye. A person, perhaps, merely standing. He wheels, hoping to focus fully on the apparation. But whoever -or whatever- it was is gone, vanished. He continues on his way, a bit more warily now, his eyes locked straight ahead. Again, he sees the vision out of his peripheral vision, and again he spins about, searching. But, again, there's nothing there. Taking a deep, calming breath, he continues on, the arrow now partly drawn.
Dulcinea shifts uncomfortably within his grasp, not feeling an abateness of fear, but simply pushing it back and letting herself have a little dose or reason to go along with it. Warily, she looked up into his face, not overly short, but still finding herself having to lean up to meet his gaze. Her eyes briefly settled upon his gleaming fangs, a frown heavy on her lips and suspicion covering her features. "You may sound all that is good and innocent, but I'm going to keep my eye on you sir..." Blinking around into the darkness, she shook her head, wishing that she could see just a little bit better to get a better feel for her surroundings. "And how exactly do you propose we get out of here? I'm suspecting that you're more or less lost as well, otherwise, you wouldn't be here, scaring the living daylights out of me."
Fatalities were reality in creature's world, and she was near to felling herself when the imps started chittering and began to disperse back to the shadows from where they had come. Blood splattered the floor as she caught herself on hands and knees, breath rasping in the back of her throat. They had gone. . .the thought trailed as she felt hot, moist air hit her backside. The tatters of her clothing trembled, and the floor rocked, and the walls shook. She looked wide-eyed ahead of herself, and then turned over, butt against the black marble as she realized that the white wall blocking her path had disappeared. In its place, the corridor continued, but was darkened. It was from there that the shaking was emanating from, and creature felt deep-rooted terror gathering in her chest. "No." She whispered, stomach constricting into knots. Sweat slicked the palms of her hands anew, and she wiped blood from her face with the back of her hand. "No, please." Her voice was hoarse, and the words were shaky, pleading: weak. On the first day she had fallen into the Labyrinth, desperate and vengeful, she had intended to kill whatever drove the place. Now, now she just wanted to escape, crawl into a hole and lick her wounds. Her skinny legs scrabbled against the floor as a dark shape materialized over her. Then another, and another. All three were mutated, grotesque dragons: a scene from the pages of her scattered memory. They had been mauled, and maimed, and she wept for she knew she could never have saved them. But no, in this place it had become her fault, and she knew she must now pay for her sins until all her blood was lost.
Koranis removes the grasp on Dulcinea's shoulder, his gaze slowly making it's way down to her neck, almost trasfixed into place as he speaks slowly. "I don't know..I was just following the screams. saftey in numbers after all?.." He tries to pull his gaze away from her neck but to no avail. He closes his eyes for a brief moment as his head is filled with whispers and commands form out of the shadows, slowly opening his eyes to peer at Dulcinea once more.
Isen is ready when the phantom next appears; the arrow is drawn and released without even glancing fully at the figure, Isen's long forgotten skill with the bow returning to him. A meaty 'thunk' is heard as the arrow hits flesh, and the figure slumps to the ground. Isen turns to the fallen form, for once able to see it. It appears to be a small, nondescript man, with pale skin, dark hair, and green eyes. And, apparently, very much dead. Isen reaches out to retrieve his arrow from where it just from the corpse's chest. Carelessly, he wrenches the barbed hunting arrow free, the flesh ripping out with it. The body suddenly writhes, the arms reaching up to grasp at the stone disk, the teeth baring in a gaping smile as a shrill scream emits from the throat. Isen jerks back, startled, and thrusts the arrow into the thing's throat, over and over again. Finally, it slumps back again, after its nails dig bloody trenches through Isen's skin as it tries to rip the disk free. Shaking slightly, Isen draws back, leaving the arrow in place. His breathing is ragged, his hands and ripped shirt covered in blood.
Dulcinea slowly starts to shift away from the male, concerned about the direction his gaze was taking. He seem to be more than a little fascinated by a certain portion of her anatomy. It was then that she realized, she coudln't exactly discern his precise feelings. They were in contact and empath though she was, she couldn't decide whether or not she was feeling suspicious because of the voices, or if there was actual danger. Deciding that perhaps the best course of action was to go off alone, less a chance for her to become someone's dinner, she made to turn away. "I think that perhaps, I'll just try to find my own way...I don't mean to sound rude, but I don't precisely trust you." Taking a deep breath, she made to step back into the deep darkness.
Koranis lets out a hacking cough, stummbling over to the wall, sliding his way down to the base of the wall as he clutches tightly at his head, the whispers becomming louder and louder in his mind almost becomming screams. He fumbles around for his bag in pain and frustration. Pulling out a fresh bottle of blood wine he franticaly rips the cork from the bottle. He tips the bottle towards his hand, only to feel nothing but ash filter through his fingers once again. He throws the bottle towards the wall as he did earlier, letting out a frustrated yell as he does so, placing his gaze and attention back to Dulcinea as he sits slumped at the base of the wall.
A breath. Two. Three. They were drawing closer, and the creature knew she had to move. How much more? How much more could she take? She slipped on her own blood as she rose to a stand, and regarded the dead dragons with hopeless eyes. No, she could not fight them. But, she could run. The idea trickled into her mind, and on an agile foot she pivoted, and went back the way she had come. Behind her, the rumbles of angry dragons lent adrenaline to her blood, and desperation to her stride. She flew down the halls, heart pumping and lungs cramping. A stitch in her side grew, but she knew she had to keep going, had to continue. Walls came and went, and the booming behind her of the dragons' footfalls grew everloud in her ears. She wouldn't give up. Her lips stretched in denial, and she pushed herself further, harder. Eventually she found herself in the red mist -- where she had been at the start of it. She pushed harder, and somehow skidded to a stop within Hunt's hollow. "Hunt!" She cried out, toes crying out in relief for the dirt-packed ground. She collapsed against a treet, using its solid form to keep herself upright. "Hunt!" How she managed to bellow the word, even she did not know, but bellow she did. The rumbling grew louder, and creature turned to face the coming tides. It was then that Hunt appeared behind the creature, and watched with cruel eyes Her own protege. "Kill." She spoke, her voice velvety and cool, "Take what I have given you." The creature did not twitch, or turn around. It was unnecessary. Hunt's strength flooded into her, and she found herself freshened enough to pull this thing off. She would have to. There were no pack to aid her; no allies to give her succor. But she would succeed. She would do what she had to do. The woman lifted her head, all the shreds of her mind converging on the same, sole ideal: Finish the hunt. The dragons finally stepped through the red mist, and creature faced them alone. She lifted her chin, and held the talon ready. It was a good day, after all.
Isen plods onward, shaken, yet alive. A new arrow rests on his bow, his fingers itching to draw it. He stops, suddenly, the thick silence broken by the sounds of iron-shod feet. 'Round the corner before him strides two imposing figures, all clad in black iron. The arrow makes a 'ping' sound as it bounces off the thick sheets of metal; the tip breaking off and dropping to the ground. Isen fumbles for the long knife at his belt, knowing what little good it would do him, but needing it, nonetheless. His left hand clamps down upon the heated disk, and an idea strikes him like a thunderbolt. As the two figures draw near, he allows his need to flow through the disk, the power shooting through him instantly. The iron armor of the figures suddenly quivers, then jerks inward, crumpling like so much paper. Blood runs in torrents from the bodies, every bit of flesh squeezed dry by the crushing metal. The Labyrinth's eerie light brightens, a pleased-sounding humming emitting from the very walls as they react to the Chaos magic of Isen's disk.
Dulcinea hesitates, wavering between concern and the desire to just not be -here- anymore. Weighing her options, she lets out a much beleaguered sigh, before carefully stepping towards the coughing form on the ground, quite close to him now. "This is just ridiculous..." Fumbling about in cloak, she withdrew a couple items from an inner pocket. Deftly, she lit the small stub of candle, the small light filling the corridor, brighter and brighter, almost impossibly bright, until the dazzling white light encompassed the complete area around them, turning what had once been utterly black to this shining white marble place. Blinking, the druidess looked at her small bit of candle wide-eyed, knowing that some other hand had been in the making of the light. "Well, now...that's not something you see everyday." Turning her attention to Koranis, she frowned, peering at him in concern. "What's the matter with you?"
Koranis squints his eyes sharply as the corridor fills with light beaming from the candle, his eyes watering after they had became so accustomed to the darkness of the labyrinth. He peers back up at Dulcinea as his eyes slowly start to focus, he clutches at his throat with a sharp wince as he speaks. "Such..hunger, the voices, they wont leave me alone, they make it worse, make the hunger unbareable..The blood..it turns to ash.." He motions his head at the wall opposit them, at the small pile of ash and broken glass.
The dragons roared in tandem, and the fight was on. The creature did not -truly- stand much of a chance against one dragon, much less three -- dead though they may be -- but with Hunt at her back and within the red-misted border of the hollow she stood more than a chance. She could win. So it was with a sneer that she faced them. She would look ridiculous standing there: a scrawny, near-naked elf woman with naught but a large, silver talon in one hand and an abundance of messy, knotted and matted hair; facing three large undead dragons larger, more powerful and deadlier than she would ever be. Bones glistened as their rotting forms drew nearer, and the creature tensed: ready to fight. Yet they did not move to strike. They remained still. Slowly, the creature lowered her weapon, and the four individuals stood staring at one another until finally, the dragon in the center spoke in a gravelly, rumbling voice. "We have been waiting."
Isen drops into a crouch, bewildered, glancing around the stark white walls, which now, as he inspects them closer, seem to have attained a slight blush of light red. Shaking his head, he ignores the phenomenon, and hurries to his freshly slain foes. He extracts one of their swords from the spreading pool of blood, giving his wrist a sharp flick to rid the blade of blood. He tosses his bow aside, gripping the new weapon tightly as he continues on. The maze seems to no longer be such; rather, it is a single path that windes back and forth, forcing Isen to walk lengthy distances down long halls. Reaching the corner of one, he is hardly even surprised to run into several more men, these lightly clad, and armed with slings and iron knives. Two slingers set up carefully aimed barrages, while the two knife weilding foes seek to keep Isen from fleeing.
Dulcinea follows Koranis' gaze to the mess on the floor, frowning at the odd sight. "Well...okay then." The voices could be heard getting louder, the young healer pressed her fingers to her temple, an attempt to block out the distraction for the moment. "Okay, you need blood." Sounds of combat suddenly echoed through the corridor, a strange voice, rising above the multitude before subsiding to just whispers once more. "We have to get out of here..." Glancing back towards her companion, she kneels next to him, appraising eyes assessing his condition. "Can you travel?" Her voice had gentled, seeing him in this weakened condition, doing a lot to lessen her agitation. "We need to get you out of here." Leaning forward, she presses a hand to his brow, as if to ease the voices inside his head. "You must try to block them out."
Lips trembled, and the talon took a tumble to the dirt. The voice resounded painfully within her skull, and creature clapped her hands to her ears. "Out!" she shrieked, shaking her head in denial. "You are of the Eldritch." Claimed another, and this time it was creature that fell to her knees, groaning with the pain of the voices. "You belong to the Cabal." The third rasped, and for the first time in years the creature bowed to another. She bowed over her own knees, crying out for relief, for something to ease the terrible pain that seeped through her fingers. Knives did not hurt so. Hunt gleamed golden behind the creature, neutral features neither condemning nor supporting the creature, who had found herself a new pot of torment. Around them, the red mist thickened, and wisps of light flickered around the outskirts. Hunt leaned back upon Her haunches, satisfied with Her hollow and the events taking place within it. The dragons meanwhile, had ringed the creature, broken bones and dark, congealed blood marking them as unnatural in the sharp relief of Hunt's natural realm. It was a new level for the she-creature, who was suddenly unsure in her newfound power, in the energy that coursed wildly through her veins. Hunt was giving no hints, and the dragons were not easing up on her. "There is a task we would ask of you." The first dragon began anew, and creature placed her face into the dirt. "Stop," she gasped, "Hunt--!" No help was forthcoming as the voices of the dragons took over in entirety. ------------"There is a place." --------------------------"Where one is hidden." -------------------------------- "Lacking in power." ----------------------------------"Needing assistance." -------------------------"You know the way." ---------------------------"It is your task." ----------------------------"Forget your pride." ---------------------"Hunt." --------------------------- "Hunt."-------------------------- "Hunt!" ------------------Echoing silence resounded in her head with such crisp relief that she huddled in silence herself as moments passed. When she finally looked up, the dragons had vanished, and Hunt stood with a mysterious smirk upon Her face, obsidian eyes glinting at the creature in challenge. Creature knew better to ask. Knew better to speak. She picked herself up off the ground -- again -- and plucked the talon from where it had fallen. She wavered dizzily for a minute, but began to walk in a single direction. She had been charged with a task. Now she would complete it.
Isen grimaces slightly, swinging the heavy sword about, the blade biting deeply into one of the men's legs, catching in the bone of his thigh. The other lunges at Isen with his knife, while two stones speed forward. Desperately, Isen grasps the searing stone tightly, and again activiates the magic. The stones effetively return to the men that had launched them, with an added speed, knocking the slingers out cold. The remaining man grins happily, letting out a feral shriek as his blade scrapes across Isen's ribs. Isen grunts in pain, and slams a fist into the man's nose, shattering it and dropping him. Isen wastes no time in slitting the throats of the unconscious men, and putting the first attacker out just as effectivily. Then, though, he crouches against the darkening walls, a hand clutched against the wound on his side as he stares about in trepidation, his breath coming in harsh gasps. The walls were definitely growing more red...
Dulcinea took his weight, gaining her feet as she struggled to help him up. Pulling his arm over his shoulder and allowing him to use her as a crutch, she would survey the long white hallway from beneath his arm. "Well...now for the hard part." Wrapping her arm around his waist and pressing against him in order to take his weight better, she was able to turn them in the direction she thought she had come from. "That's the direction I came from...maybe we should go back that way?" She frowned as the voices swelled in volume, jeering and taunting her and suddenly she wasn't quite so sure that was the direction she had descended from. Turning again, she faced the other way, noticing for the first time (or perhaps the only time it had become visible) a closed door. "Or maybe it was from that direction?" Peering up at him, she furrowed her brow, trying to concentrate to logic her way out of the labyrinth. "This doesn't make any sense...we're in a ship, aren't we? It didn't look this big from the outside...which direction did you say you came from, Mr...whoever you are?"
Koranis struggles to stay withing conciousness as the voices scream and shout within his head, making his whole mind pulsate in pain. His eyes still tightly shut from the fear of loosing control to his growing huger, he spoke faintly to Dulcinea not being able to hear his own words over the voices. "Koranis...I came down from..gap in the planks..I was running..to feed my hunger..I don't know the path I took.." He seems to become more exhausted and drain with each passing moment, in turn putting more pressure and weight onto Dulcinea to support him.
-- "Don't Wake Me Up" Hush Sound
Senka turns and turns and turns as she continues to hear the cries of monsters so familiar yet not familiar at all, just out of sight. Yet what is there to hide behind? There is nothing but scorching sand and the storms in the distance, their rumble running through her bones and too far away to be the source of the odd animal-like sounds. "Who’s there?" a woman’s voice demands, not husky and rough but smooth and trained with years of use, so unlike the almost bestial way she normally talks when in this form forced upon her from time to time. The foreign sound is enough to have the albino pause, a hand coming up to her smooth throat in wonder only to blinks at the lack of a weight that she has become used to. That alone is enough to distract her of both the noises somewhere near yet far, and the odd sound of her clear voice. The collar, where is the collar? Does this mean she’s…free again? There is a hissing of sorts, the sound of shifting sand, nearby and immediately the woman whips around to face the intruder as fickle and easily distracted as ever. "Who-" the question is cut off as an adorable boy comes running towards her, chubby hands reaching to embrace her short, shocked form as his face is pressed against her belly. There is time for his tiny fingers to curl around the fabric of her dress for Senka has all but frozen in her shock until finally she responds. A choked sound, an almost formed word, escapes the female as she stares down at a head full of white curls, the sound soon drawing attention of the small boy. Clear blue eyes lock with bewildered red as a toothy grin, besides the two missing teeth, is offered, "Mommy!" Immediately Senka gasps and stumbles back, out of his hold and horrified at the sight as much as she is by the longing –tug- on her heart. But even as she stumbles the boy disappears like a mirage; though she can just barely make out the form of a taller man bending down to lift him… "Pup?" the word feels suddenly foreign on her tongue, as if not often used, and there is barely enough breath to support it even to a carrying whisper. A heartbeat passes, then another one but then slender fingers reach up to tangle in silky white hair as a strangled, "no!" escapes her. The word is repeated over and over again as the petite woman falls to her knees, screaming in panic, hysteric as she never would be secure in her wolf’s form. The wolf she knows but the woman…the woman she, somewhere, also is… "This is not real! It can’t be real! I’m not human," The term makes her pause, red eyes wide and frightened like that of a caged animal as she hoarsely, but not in the familiar husky way, corrects herself, "Two-walker. I’m –not- a two-walker…" The wind merely makes sand dance, against her face and form in a silent mocking of her weakness. Weakness…how foreign the emotion, and how true it must be as the storm seems to brew in the distance and the sand grows to a scorching heat.
The shadow magic surged towards Joliette, and the woman cried out at the sudden flow of necromancy. Creature flailed, trying to tug her hand back towards her chest. Behind her, Hunt and Monster yet had their hands pressed together, and there was a shout, and a flash of light. Creature looked deep into the eyes of Joliette, and she sensed more than saw the other's desire to end it, to scrape her from being and once more end. . .the. . .end the farce. The light increased in volume, and this time it was creature's turn to tumble. The red mist engulfed her, and Hunt was screaming at her, she could hear: "Fight it, little one!" Monster was cursing up a storm, and then red replaced everything. The creature was yelling now, baying out her confusion and anguish at being taken from Hunt once more. Yet, Vilaelia was gone: creature had killed that other self with the approval of Hunt, and now it was She who would haunt the crooked passages of creature's mind. Creature was thankful for that, but those stray thoughts vanished as she hit dirt. Her body tumbled over the ground, speed diminishing until she halted, bruised and bloody. The recent events had left her quite a mess, but that was no matter to the elf. She was tough. She would endure. She let herself lay on the dirt, collecting scents and impressions, feeling her mortality seeping in bursts of pain to her brain. She took a deep breath. No, not dirt. It was sand, again, and her blood was soaking into it. Dry. Barren. She could smell a faint, teasing hint of rain, and she was suddenly terribly thirsty. She stood up, and caught another teasing scent. She knew it somewhere within her mind, and she pushed upright, standing on shaky legs. She would find this elusive quarry. Time to hunt.
Senka whimpers and rocks herself, repeating her denial over and over again as lightning flashes that much closer, its rumble harsh enough to blow more sand over her kneeled form. The sand whips her harsh enough to make her flinch, the petite woman looking all that smaller when there is no sign of her too-large ego and no fangs to guard herself with. Yet along with the sand comes a scent she recognises, the lycan hardly ever forgets a scent, faces and names yes, but never a scent. There is another around, of that much the albino is certain, one she has seen before and it's that, that distracts her from the scorching heat of the sand and the just as scorching truth of what has just happened. The ship is showing her things Senka does not want to see, reveling in her blind eye and her lack of insight of her own emotions, but if the wolf knows anything it s how to fight. Red eyes once again become fierce when there is another she may have to fight, and slowly her clad form raises to it s height that is not so impressive. But she knows how to be impressive and so with a new stubbornness that awakens the storms surrounding her to the point where it is not only sand but also the fabric of her dress that whips against her body and causes her to flinch, Senka ignores the tiny footprints of the truth of her heart. They re-walked over without a glance, trudged over in search of that elusive scent the albino isn't sure she truly smelled anymore. This place: this place is messing with her mind until she can't even trust her own instincts. It's time to escape, then.
She did not like the heat. She remembered that clearly. She slipped easily into a hunting stance, and moved with quick feet over the sand. The wind was working to her favor, this time, though the sand granules were kicked up into her face. She grinned, and brandished the claw Hunt had given her. Quickly now, with whole mind and whole purpose. She revelled in it, delighting in the feel of her body without the weight of another. Her mind spun, and spun again. She did not notice Monster tailing her-- nor would she have cared even if she did see. The Monster had changed into a billowing white wrap that covered its lower face and hair. Grey streaks shot through that cloth, and it was precision that the Monster retraced creature's steps. It was grinning wickedly beneath the wrap, mirroring creature's own grin. The woman crested a slope and stared down onto a form, clothed as she had been clothed; but now only tatters remained upon creature's form. They whipped in the wind, and creature held the silver claw aloft. It glinted in the sun. "Good hunting!" She called, her voice growled. It cut the distance, the bellow decimating the near-silent land. She began her descent, eyes gleaming wickedly as she made her way to the other. Monster remained on the crest, watching. It would be the witness to the clash between the two wild hearts.
Senka doesn’t think, doesn’t pause, but merely looks up at the cry of one that –does- posses the rough edge she once held. The pale blue of her dress seems all that paler as her face flushes with excitement, her heartbeat speeding as a feral grin, finally feral again, twists her _expression and the single white scar upon it. White hair flashes, her gown dances, as the two-walker speeds towards the other without thinking, pale toes sinking into hot sand but never relenting in speed. But even her body seems slower, not trained like before as needed to survive each day, and her senses are dull now that she’s trapped into a body that has always preferred a two-walker form over her ‘true’ one. Nevertheless her eyes show her arrogant confidence as she tries to growl, but still speaks in that disgustingly clear voice, "Good hunting!" Caught up in the presence of the other as she is, with the storm howling in her ear in a way she cannot, not anymore, Senka fails not notice those animal sounds again. Fails to notice how they’re stronger then before. Fails to notice, that it’s not only Monster who is watching. All she cares about is lunging her petite form at the stronger one of this new challenger and –win-. Forget about the hot sand, the constricting fabric of her gown or her uselessly long hair, forget all except who she has been in the past. Who she needs to become again…
Dulcinea hadn't exactly been planning on coming this way. Leaving Vailkrin was one thing, but the city of Cenril was not one of her usual stops. Seeing as how the Hanging Corpse Tavern was not up to receiving packages, the healer's usual shipment of hard-to-come-by herbs and supplies weren't going to be conveniently delivered. The fact of the matter was that she needed to get a hold of her order and she had decided a little adventure wouldn't really hurt her. Except of course, now, she couldn't really say that. Holding the edge of her dark, billowly cloak up to her nose, she attempted to keep the stench of the area from affecting her. Dulci had been pointed here from the town, her package having been returned to the ship from whence it came. Hesitantly, she approached the intimidating vessel, clearing her throat before warning of her presence. "Hello? Anybody home?"
Cervantez cruised through the city streets of Cenril after experiencing a rather fulfilling meeting with an intruiging vampiress in Kelay. A most odd of ventures, as a lycan finding some interest in a vampiress, but work was at hand. He knew a hunt was to take place within the next sunrise or so, so preparations were not far from neccessary. Cervantez came upon the sight of a ship, and dragged his jagged, patterned nails across the exterior of his leather attire and approached it nonchalantly. He slashed quickly, gutting through the seemingly rotted wood for a handhold; piercing his way to the top as he climbed the ship's outer wall. Soon enough, he came upon an open window and tumbled in as his unruly spiked hair, hanging down to a healthy portion of his back sheilded his body from view for a split moment until he rose to his feet once more. After surveying his surroundings quickly with smoky grey eyes, his gruff, German-accent voice carried through as he spoke as soft as possible; with the reverb of a lawnmower. "Ich frage mich....what is held between these walls..."
The challenge had been accepted, and now it must be met. The creature bared her teeth and rushed inwards towards the wolf-turned-human. This one was worthy. She knew that, knew it in the depths of her skull often untravelled. She still felt fresh, though her fight with Vilaelia had worn her, and she was still losing blood from her myriad of cuts. The wind sang, and she whirled towards Senka, leaping the last few steps off of the dune to bring her silver talon whistling down upon the other, quickly diving back to keep her guard closed. She did not notice the gathering storm of others, no more than Senka. So when a small form darted into her back, she cried out in horror, and fell to a knee. She was wary of the form before her, still, and so rolled to the side. She did not see what had attached itself to her back, but she felt the sharp prick of claws; the hard gnash of teeth. The warm breath of another tickled her neck, and she threw herself backwards. Perhaps it wasn't Senka alone who had nightmares to face, monsters to see. Above them both, Monster was yelling warnings.
Misha wanders towards the haunting ship that seemed to be calling her name. Seemed to want her to go inside. She traced the delapidated wood with a fingertip before an earth shattering scream. She peered her head inside quickly to see the two...things fighting. They did not appear human. Misha sensed the air and determined that one was a lycanthrope and the other...she did not know. The scream still reverbrating through her blood, Misha walked quietly towards the two that were engaged in battle. She suddenly felt something overcome her, a power that nearly made her collapse to the ground. She suddenly saw red, saw nothing but the blood coating the fighting pair. She wondered what this strange sensation was. She tried to fight the urge to join the bloodbath, but soon found the call too irrisistable. She, in a complete antithesis of herself, jumped full on to the wolf-human and proceeded to dug her nails into the fur, trying to sever the flesh underneath.
Koranis takes a short look around the top deck of the ship with his dark red eyes, his long black hair lifting from his shoulders due to the breeze of the sea air. He peers down through a few missing planks, seeing nothing but darkness, he lifts his head once more to take another quick scan of the area before jumping down below. He blinks several times as his eyes start to ajust to the lack of light. He moves his left hand to his throat with a sharp frown. His throat felt dry, he'd came so thristy for a reason he could not grasp. He opens his mouth to let out a hacking cough, his fangs clearly visable as he starts to make his way around the labyrinth whilst breathing heavily.
Senka was forced to a sudden stop as the woman, the challenger, stops right in front of her eyes. Fierce red eyes widen in surprise but there is no pity in them, nor does the urge to help arise; nature is nature after all, and if her challenger doesn t survive then they were simply not meant to fight. Hair and fabric swaying annoyingly, the albino only has time to brush strands of silver from her eyes before she too topples over by a sudden weight that seems to be all hairs, claws and fangs and then it's not only Deilakrion that's forced to fight off an unwanted attachment. Instinctively, for the wolf is still in there somewhere, pale hands clasp around a hairy throat and the woman is left to stare at what seems to be the other side of one of her battles. A wolf looms over her, snapping with drooling hungry teeth and intent on ripping her throat out, only held back by trembling arms and slender fingers tangled in its fur. She tries to snarl, but it feels unnatural in this new body the ship has given her and the horror of it all seems unreal. Those hungry eyes seem unreal since they re not her own, that lust for blood that falls of its form in waves But Senka is known to be stubborn for a reason and without thinking she rolls over, the slope giving her strength and as speed is gained the woman manages to escape it s clawed hold. Yet just as she s struggling to raise from that scorching sand, the wolf has already recovered and pounces again so that she s forced to throw her weight to the side or risk getting bitten. Is this how her prey felt? Is this what it means being a two-walker? It's no wonder she's chosen her other side! The storm howls in her place, for her human-vocals cannot reach the right pitch, and sand becomes almost unbearably hot, as hot as her temper. Without thinking the woman-once-wolf throws herself at the four-legged-creature as it approaches, skilfully avoiding teeth and claw and initiating a new roll down the slope. Two-walker or no, fighting is still in her blood
Dulcinea hoists herself up and over the side of the ship, having finally managed to find a way on board. Frowning, she wondered if all shipping vessels were usually this deserted while in port...or this dirty. Making a face, she carefully picked her way over the debris strewn deck of the ship. "Hello? Where the hell is everyone?" Muttering and offering a few slight curses, she turned around to make her way back to the side where she could hopefully make it to the ground without receiving serious injury. "That's the last time..." Pausing in mid-stride, she turned slightly, her head cocking to the side as she faintly heard the sound of voices. No more than mere whispers, she could hear them and she had the strangest sensation they were calling her. Shaking her head, Dulci started forward again. "Preposterous, now I'm hearing this...I shoulda just stayed with the vampires and the dr-...." Trailing off mid-sentence, she turned back again, her cloak whirling around her in a suitably dramatic fashion as the voices got louder. There were no distinct words, just muffled noise, rising in volume with the wind. Vaguely, she realized that the charged atmosphere pointed towards a heavy storm and that she wasn't exactly comfortable outside in bad weather. Inexorably, she found her feet moving her forward towards a doorway, the faint outline of stairs leading downwards all she could see. "Hello? I'm just here for my package..." Very soon she would find herself in the doorway, one foot paused on the top stair, the voices louder than ever.
Senka's barren land seemed to grow less distinct to the creature as the sense of other grew. The sky no longer winked merrily, nor did the sun glow with the fervor of the battle. No, something else was afoot. Shadows grew and gathered, and somewhere it seemed the ship was laughing, and the Labyrinth twisted in response. Not even an hour previous the creature had seen the myriad assortment of oddities she had killed, and it seemed they were stalking without Hunt to keep them at bay. At once something twisted within that odd mind, as she ripped the thing clinging to her back from her body and flung it with a wiry arm. It wasn't supposed to be this way, it wasn't supposed to smell or sound or ------ something was flashing. It preyed at her mind, and she stumbled and fell to the side of Senka and Misha, clutching at her head. Beyond them, Monster -- now appearing as a man wrapped in form-fitting cream cloth with bursts of mint-green; face painted white with green splotches with a shock of forest-green hair and dark, dark eyes -- finished its own pass down the slope. Creature staggered upright, and saw that indeed there was darkness gathering around the edges. Perhaps she was delusional, but they seemed real enough. It was a nightmare brought to life as dark fanged shadows drew closer. The creature gripped the silver talon and darted in at the closest. She was protective. She turned, and saw Senka going against the other wolf, and words were torn from her throat. "No!" The urge gripped her again. She ran towards the pair even as the nightmares gave chase, talon held high and ready to cut down upon Misha's form. Behind them all, Monster was working a spell. He was opening a rabbit-hole that if caught within would tumble a body down into Monster's own domain. Creature's foot was caught as she moved towards Senka, and for the second time she found herself falling backwards with a horrid scream rippling from her mouth. The Labyrinth had its own twists and turns, and she would never be allowed to stay still. She watched as Senka and the other gradually grew smaller, until darkness swallowed all and she found herself on a golden blanket that stretched quite wide. Monster appeared before her, its form-fitting outfit colored green this time, and his face and hands painted a dull brown. Instantly the creature was on guard, talon up and facing out. She intended to draw blood, this time.
Misha was so intent on the blood of the wolf that she did not register the arm that was attempting to fling her off until she was plastered to the floor. Sure that a few bones in her body were broken, Misha attempted to crawl towards the doorway to exit the room , this new power overflowing all her senses with thoughts of only blood. The only coherent thought besides escape was of the blood. It was like she was a vampire with the way she seemed to crave it with every fiber of her being. How she seemed to want to plunge her hand into her enemy and remove its still-beating heart. Misha shuddered with disgust at herself. One small phrase leaving her lips before another descent into madness, "So much...blood...Why?" Then she felt a sharp talon digging into the flesh just below her ribs. Her scream filled the room as she rolled away, desperatly trying to stop the bleeding.
Koranis drops to his knees, his hands placed out onto the floor infront of his as he continues to cough. His thirst becomming almost unbareable. He plunges his hand into the bag daggling from his belt, sliding out a bottle of blood wine. He quickly rises it to his lips only to spit the contense onto the cold floor he was knelt on. He tips the bottle upside down, the liquid had turned to ash, it flowing out of the bottle and between his fingers. He throws the bottle into towards the wall out of frustration, shattering it as it makes impact with the hard stone wall of the labyrinth. He starts to laugh controlably, he can't seem to understand why he found all of this so amusing. "Maybe I'm loosing it.." He thinks to himself as he slowly raises his head, his strands of his long black hair covering his face. His mouth slowly twisting into a demented smirk as he hears the sreams of pain. Quickly jumping and making a desperate sprint towards the location of the agonising scream.
Too much is happening for Senka to process it all, not without her usual sharp senses to aid her. The world continues to spin and spin as fabric, fur and limbs tangle, neither she nor the wolf seemingly able to get the upper hand. The woman only manages to get short flashes, a stranger who’s smell she can barely make out above the stench of the wolf’s breath, the challenger moving towards her only to stumble and then the sky which is twisting and twisting and forming clouds but how can that be when the sand is hot enough to burn her flesh? Pale white strands of long hair tangle in claws, ensnare her in the wolf’s hold as the world goes black and consist only of fur until everything else surely has disappeared. Sound ceases, as does smell and sight until slowly everything comes back. She’s alone, always alone, in a fresh smelling place, lying on something soft this she knows but Senka doesn’t seem able to open her eyes yet. It takes the sound of a snapping branch for her to sit up, a choked gasp escaping her throat, raw again and familiar. Her left eye seems a bit dazed, as if unable to sharpen though her right eye has no problem with taking in the sight of a forest, moist in the morning dawn. Another snap, and fierce red eyes turn to feast upon the sight of a familiar memory. Her alpha, back in the days where he still liked her enough to raise his ears as he does now. A sigh escapes her before a sudden flash brings her back within the scorching desert, besides a woman reeking of blood. Confused now, not sure where she is, she can only stare as Mischa tries desperately struggles for life within her reach. There is no pity in that red gaze, only confusion as the albino stares at the woman she’s kneeling besides, the sand burning her knees through the fabric of her dress until a droplet lands neatly on the crown of her braid. Looking up, the wolf-turned-woman is surprised to see water fall, the storm finally giving in as thunder echo’s loud enough through the barren wasteland of her soul to run a tremble through her bones.
Dulcinea found her own breathing harsh to her ears. The noise of the growing storm couldn't even drown it out. One step after another brought her deeper and deeper into the recesses of the ship. Not even a thought as to why a shipping vessel would be so abandoned entered her mind at this point. This was no longer about her package. A whisper in her ear and she was twisting about, wide-eyed, breath caught in her throat. Of course at the moment, there was no one there. Another step downwards and her foot caught in her cloak, momentum pitching her forward, to tumble the last few steps into the winding darkness. A small screech would follow her down and as she landed, she heard the shatter of glass somewhere in the distance. The ship didn't seem to be so vast from the outside, but she suddenly got the impression of a great, empty, waiting space. Using the wall to help gain her feet, she squinted into the darkness, using her hands to follow the wall as she propelled herself forward. "Hello?" A scream would stop in her tracks, the sound of a woman's misery triggering a healer's impulse to find and help. "Where are you?" Faster and faster she would make her way through the dark, heedless of anything that might impede her progress.
The sand was gone. The sky was gone. The sun was gone. Darkness persisted in all directions but for the ground and blanket creature sat upon, which glowed in a pale light that was enough to see Monster and --looking down-- herself quite clearly. Feelings rushed through her head: outrage, anger, fear, exasperation. . .and then strangest of all was a yearning. She wanted to be somewhere the Hunt would be able to take her, and then she could run and fight in a world that made sense. Nothing was making any sense. Her mind was near dazed with all of the changes taking place, and only the silver glint of the talon within her fist kept her from reeling into the infinity of her own insane mind. Monster was watching her carefully, and towards it she sent a scowl and glare that might have been dangerous had she control to her trembling limbs. She would blood the Monster. So when it spoke to her, she jerked as though the sound hurt her. Perhaps it would. "I was unable to find your companion, little creature. Tenebrae has vanished from my awareness, and I was only able to follow you narrowly. Where are you?" Its voice was angry enough to match the creature's latest emotional frame of mind. The woman pushed a finger around the blanket, reveling in its smooth softness. The talon was still pointed at Monster. She stood up casually, and walked towards it. Her feet made no noise in that strange place, but the blanket was so welcoming and inviting. She reached Monster and slashed the talon through the air, aiming to slice his cheek open with wicked grace. . .but her talon only cut air, and it was with mocking solemnity that Monster smirked at her. "I could not follow you physically. Where are you?" Creature growled at that, and backed away with teeth bared and stiff limbs. Its words were disturbing and strangely resonant, tripping thoughts that she didn't think she wanted to think. She put her free hand up to her head, and glowered mightily. The Monster looked alarmed as the creature concentrated, and put out a hand. It was shouting something at her, but it wavered and vanished. Suddenly, Senka was in front of her again, and this time it was creature who put out a hand, reaching to touch the woman.
Koranis continued to race throught the twists and turns of the stone labyrinth. His thirst for blood almost taking complete control over his sanity, it had never been like this, he had never had such a thirst for blood like this. He threw the thoughts aside, blood was the only thing his mind was focused on. He soon starts to hear the foot steps and heavy breathing from Dulcinea. He comes to a sudden halt at the end of a corridor, peering down the utter darkness of the corridor to his left, he can make out a Dulcinea's silhouette slowly making it's way down the corridor towards him. The demnented smirk widens as he folds his arms across his chest, waiting for it to get closer to him.
Senka flinches the moment fingers touch her, immediately pulling away though it doesn’t feel nearly as unnatural to be touched as it usually does. Again the albino is thrown off by the odd feelings and habits of this form, the one she doesn’t get and it isn’t long before blood red eyes fix on Deilakrion instead. A snarl escapes the woman but it’s too clear and not nearly as sincere enough and it doesn’t take long before the confused she-wolf scrambles to her feet, away from the woman that seems to disappear within the sand, merciless as always. "What’s going on?" the question more or less escapes her as pale feet walk over hot sand, sand so different from the icy rain that slowly but steadily begins to fall with more frequently and strength. In the distance, the storms howl and complain again, clouds twisting as pale fingers burry in paler hair. "I don’t get any of this!" And it’s no surprise, it’s only rarely that the wolf is confronted by magic let alone while being this ‘weak’. Her questions are cut of however as the howl of the storm is met with howls of creatures far more used to uttering the sound. It seems that the pack has returned but as the albino turns to face them, automatically, they do not look nearly as friendly as in that brief flash in the forest. Red eyes can only widen I a way they’ve never done outside of this ship, widen in horror. Facing one wolf is one thing, but an entire pack…?
Dulcinea focused on the sound her shoes made against the hard planks of the deck beneath her. For some odd reason, she found the repetitive noise soothing. Why she was still making her way into the darkness, she wasn't sure. But something, maybe the voice, maybe her odd sensitivity to the emotions of her surroundings, compelled her on. She winced as a crack of thunder filled the confines of the below decks, the smell of burning ozone strong in her nostrils as she halted for a moment. Her muscles tensed as she realized that she was no longer quite alone. "Hello?" Hesitantly, she called out, pushing away from the wall, desperately hoping that she wasn't about to make a terrible mistake.
/:: The touch sent a small shock through Deilakrion, and she closed her eyes for an instant. Just a second! Then the skies were opening up, sending a deluge of water down. It pounded into the creature, and suddenly the contact was broken. She flailed outward, hearing the growls start up around her, and the shadows were sure to return. But then the water was up to her knees, and then it was cresting her collarbone. She started to move for higher ground when she found herself plunged deep into the water with no bottom in sight. She paddled water, gasping for breath, and looked about herself. Somewhere, she thought she heard someone calling and struggled to swim forward. Yet her limbs were sluggish, muscles straining with the effort to sustain herself above the water. She tilted her head back, and gasped for air. Was it possible the creature was afraid of drowning? She had never been in a situation as such before. She did not swim so often. She looked around herself, chin dipping under the water and lips catching water that she choked on before spitting out. Below her, shadows gripped at her ankles, tugging her down into the deep blue depths. "Help!" She cried, piteously. Her head went under, and she struggled valiantly upwards. "Help!" She shrieked, lungs stretching with the effort. Then her head was under, and with the talon in hand she twisted to kill her tormenters.
Koranis lightly licks his lips as he sees Dulcinea slowly come towards him, his long elven ears twitch at the sound of Deilakrion's cries for help what's left of his sanity screaming at him to go help her. He soon shakes the thoughts away, after all, this is about his desire for blood now. He out stretches his left arm towards Dulcinea. The black winged snake coiled tightly around his right arm hisses protectivly as she comes closer. "I'm here, don't be afraid, I'm not here to harm you.." He spoke in a husk dry voice, the thick darkness masking the demented grin placed across his mouth.
Isen makes his way into view, his countenance brightening visibly when he sees the ship. His nose wrinkles a bit at the smell of decaying flesh, but he ignores it, for the most part. Cautiously, he makes his way over to the wreckage, stepping carefully around the dead fowl. Nimbly, he hauls himself on board, and begins poking around. His curiosity eventually takes him down below, where he suddenly begins to feel...strange. He finds himself surrounded, not by the expected wooden walls of a ship, but by a stark white maze, inexplicably well-lit, and dead silent. Something feels wrong, though. He glances down at himself, stunned as he glimpses a body free of tattoos, dressed in animal hides, and carrying a long bow, the quiver of arrows swinging from his hip. He stands there for a long moment, in complete shock.
Dulcinea pauses as she feels something disturb the air beside her, the ever present aura of danger starting to close about her. Turning in a circle, she searches in vain to be able to see the other in the darkness with her. "That's not as comforting as you might've meant it." Licking her suddenly dry lips, she made a quick decision, side stepping, she threw herself against the far wall, feeling about for a cooridor, a door, and opening, anything. Her mind screamed at her to 'flee, flee!' and she could hear the voices laughing and taunting her, turning her worry into something more akin to panic. What was she doing here? This wasn't meant for her. This was the sort of chaos she had experienced once before and it had cost her dearly. Her hand suddenly left the wall, touching air and she threw herself backwards, hoping that she was faster than whatever predator had set its sights on her. "Leave me alone!"
Deeper and deeper she was dragged. She flicked her talon around her ankles, severing clawed monstrosities like butter. Her mouth opened in a growl, and she sucked in water. Time slowed as she panicked, attempting to expel the water only to suck in more. Her body ached, and her lungs were screaming at her for air with a need that she had no way of meeting. She clawed at her throat, at her ankles, at the water. Creature searched for anything that would allow her to live and breathe. Between one heartbeat and the next she had landed upon solid ground, and the water floated away above her until she could choke and gasp and writhe around on the ground, vomiting water. She crouched and shook and cried with relief for her lungs. The ivory rose up around her, mocking her. The shadows surrounded her, grinning with blackened delight. She looked at them, too tired to fight. This was it, she felt: this was the next step. But how could she rise above when her limbs were weighted with fatigue? She had to endure. The thought was nought but another fragment, and warily she pushed herself up. Her legs groaned, and her arms whimpered with effort, but she stood. Shaking, cold and wet. It was dark, and she could barely see around herself, but she placed her feet in the first few steps. She could almost hear Hunt's voice, it's seductive sound urging her to fight, to kill. Creature nodded, and began to move. Forward, when one lunged at her. She whipped the talon around and bled darkness to splatter against the ivory. Backwards, upon the recoil, when another jumped to take the place of the first. Time was still slow, and her hair whipped around as she danced upon her toes, trading places and swapping partners as the deadly tango became serious. Her voice rose in grunts and taunts as she cried out her desire to live in primal fury. She would do it. She had to. Around her, the shadows were laughing.
Koranis slowly ertorts his arm, taking a few small steps forwards towards Dulcinea, his heavy leather boots, making a thud with each impact with the solid floor it makes. "You want out of here don't you? So do I, this place.." He pauses to take a long glance around the shadow filled corridor. "It's not natural, it would make sense for us to travel together...for safty.." his voice still dry and husk as he lets out a short cough after speaking due to his almost unbarable thirst. He slowly stretches his hand out to Dulcinea once more. The dark demented smirk still masked by the shadows of the corridor.
Isen , trembling, stretches out a hand to press against the walls, testing their reality. A feeling of nakedness fills him, the absence of the runes nearly crippling him, the desire to curl up in a corner nearly overwhelming. He opens his mouth, calling forth a string of galdra, his intent to turn the walls temporarily invisible, a feat which he known he can accomplish. But, to no avail. The magic sputters and dies, it seems, as the wall remains unaffected. The apparent half elf shakes his head, as if to deny this impossibility, and reaches to his shirt. The animal skins tear easily, and he stares down at his bare chest, the skin unmarred by the horrendous scar that Isen has become accustomed to. But, at last, a comforting fact; leather straps hold Isen's precious disk firmly in place, the chunk of stone warm to the touch, and growing warmer. Isen traces a hand across it, for confidence, and strings his bow, setting an arrow against the string. Thus armed, he sets off down the hallway, his bare feet moving silently across the spotless floor.
Dulcinea moved around the sound of the other's footsteps, hoping to stay out of his reach. She could feel his desire to catch her, whatever his intent, and she had no compulsion to allow him closer to her than he was now. "Yes, that would make sense. But why should I believe it would be safer with you than without?" A sudden whisper against her ear, sent her in the opposite direction from whence she was moving, connecting bodily with the other speaking to her. She froze, sudden fear and a rush of emotions filling the empath as the voices laughed at her predicament. Her heart beat thudded in her ears, her chest rising and falling beneath her corset with each shallow breath she took. She would of course attempt to move away, having no desire to be pushed up against this unknown person. "Let me pass."
Sweat was flowing freely now, and blood from many small nips and scrapes. The walls seemed to shake with glee as they were splatted with varying forms of liquid: the only spectator to the gruesome scene. Creature was short of breath, and gasping as she deftly whipped the talon through the little maurauders. With each bite, each drop of blood shed by her, they were becoming clearer and clearer. They appeared like little imps: tormentors of lost souls, some might say. Creature was indeed a lost soul, and this the hell where wicked beings like she were tumbled. She had killed much, vanquished much -- the entire place felt like a final hunt. But no! No, she had Hunt! She would not die! She growled anew, sweat whipping off around her as she twisted her body down, stabbing an imp with one and grabbing another by the throat. Several had found their way onto her back, and her furious howls resounded as they tore chunks out of her flesh. She slammed herself backwards, kicking out with a leg as another got too close. Then, an opening was spotted, and she began to run. She would have to find a choke; some way of cutting down the numbers easier. They seemed endless to her spinning mind, and she would have to -- she stopped as the white wall suddenly dead-ended. Another latched onto her hair, and she bent over to rip it off. She growled as they overwhelmed her, and no matter how she twisted or dodged they found a way to cling to her skin, until she showed more red than tan. But if she were to go down, she would go down fighting, and she roared at them in feral anger.
Koranis blinks his dark red eyes as Dulcinea makes impact with him. He uses the out stretched left arm to try and take a light grip of her shoulder. He peers at her face for a moment, being able to see her features from the range, he peers at her eyes seeing the fear they spew out to him he stops the demented smirk, not wanting to scare her further that she might try and flee he flashes her a reasuring smile before opening his mouth to speak, his sharp vampiric fangs clearly visable to her as he does so. "So you can run off further into the darkness? To them? You are safer with me, trust me.."
Isen rounds a turn or two, the silence remaining unbroken, save for the sound of his own breathing. As he takes a left, his hand clamped over teh now uncomfortably hot disk, he catches sight of something out of the corner of his eye. A person, perhaps, merely standing. He wheels, hoping to focus fully on the apparation. But whoever -or whatever- it was is gone, vanished. He continues on his way, a bit more warily now, his eyes locked straight ahead. Again, he sees the vision out of his peripheral vision, and again he spins about, searching. But, again, there's nothing there. Taking a deep, calming breath, he continues on, the arrow now partly drawn.
Dulcinea shifts uncomfortably within his grasp, not feeling an abateness of fear, but simply pushing it back and letting herself have a little dose or reason to go along with it. Warily, she looked up into his face, not overly short, but still finding herself having to lean up to meet his gaze. Her eyes briefly settled upon his gleaming fangs, a frown heavy on her lips and suspicion covering her features. "You may sound all that is good and innocent, but I'm going to keep my eye on you sir..." Blinking around into the darkness, she shook her head, wishing that she could see just a little bit better to get a better feel for her surroundings. "And how exactly do you propose we get out of here? I'm suspecting that you're more or less lost as well, otherwise, you wouldn't be here, scaring the living daylights out of me."
Fatalities were reality in creature's world, and she was near to felling herself when the imps started chittering and began to disperse back to the shadows from where they had come. Blood splattered the floor as she caught herself on hands and knees, breath rasping in the back of her throat. They had gone. . .the thought trailed as she felt hot, moist air hit her backside. The tatters of her clothing trembled, and the floor rocked, and the walls shook. She looked wide-eyed ahead of herself, and then turned over, butt against the black marble as she realized that the white wall blocking her path had disappeared. In its place, the corridor continued, but was darkened. It was from there that the shaking was emanating from, and creature felt deep-rooted terror gathering in her chest. "No." She whispered, stomach constricting into knots. Sweat slicked the palms of her hands anew, and she wiped blood from her face with the back of her hand. "No, please." Her voice was hoarse, and the words were shaky, pleading: weak. On the first day she had fallen into the Labyrinth, desperate and vengeful, she had intended to kill whatever drove the place. Now, now she just wanted to escape, crawl into a hole and lick her wounds. Her skinny legs scrabbled against the floor as a dark shape materialized over her. Then another, and another. All three were mutated, grotesque dragons: a scene from the pages of her scattered memory. They had been mauled, and maimed, and she wept for she knew she could never have saved them. But no, in this place it had become her fault, and she knew she must now pay for her sins until all her blood was lost.
Koranis removes the grasp on Dulcinea's shoulder, his gaze slowly making it's way down to her neck, almost trasfixed into place as he speaks slowly. "I don't know..I was just following the screams. saftey in numbers after all?.." He tries to pull his gaze away from her neck but to no avail. He closes his eyes for a brief moment as his head is filled with whispers and commands form out of the shadows, slowly opening his eyes to peer at Dulcinea once more.
Isen is ready when the phantom next appears; the arrow is drawn and released without even glancing fully at the figure, Isen's long forgotten skill with the bow returning to him. A meaty 'thunk' is heard as the arrow hits flesh, and the figure slumps to the ground. Isen turns to the fallen form, for once able to see it. It appears to be a small, nondescript man, with pale skin, dark hair, and green eyes. And, apparently, very much dead. Isen reaches out to retrieve his arrow from where it just from the corpse's chest. Carelessly, he wrenches the barbed hunting arrow free, the flesh ripping out with it. The body suddenly writhes, the arms reaching up to grasp at the stone disk, the teeth baring in a gaping smile as a shrill scream emits from the throat. Isen jerks back, startled, and thrusts the arrow into the thing's throat, over and over again. Finally, it slumps back again, after its nails dig bloody trenches through Isen's skin as it tries to rip the disk free. Shaking slightly, Isen draws back, leaving the arrow in place. His breathing is ragged, his hands and ripped shirt covered in blood.
Dulcinea slowly starts to shift away from the male, concerned about the direction his gaze was taking. He seem to be more than a little fascinated by a certain portion of her anatomy. It was then that she realized, she coudln't exactly discern his precise feelings. They were in contact and empath though she was, she couldn't decide whether or not she was feeling suspicious because of the voices, or if there was actual danger. Deciding that perhaps the best course of action was to go off alone, less a chance for her to become someone's dinner, she made to turn away. "I think that perhaps, I'll just try to find my own way...I don't mean to sound rude, but I don't precisely trust you." Taking a deep breath, she made to step back into the deep darkness.
Koranis lets out a hacking cough, stummbling over to the wall, sliding his way down to the base of the wall as he clutches tightly at his head, the whispers becomming louder and louder in his mind almost becomming screams. He fumbles around for his bag in pain and frustration. Pulling out a fresh bottle of blood wine he franticaly rips the cork from the bottle. He tips the bottle towards his hand, only to feel nothing but ash filter through his fingers once again. He throws the bottle towards the wall as he did earlier, letting out a frustrated yell as he does so, placing his gaze and attention back to Dulcinea as he sits slumped at the base of the wall.
A breath. Two. Three. They were drawing closer, and the creature knew she had to move. How much more? How much more could she take? She slipped on her own blood as she rose to a stand, and regarded the dead dragons with hopeless eyes. No, she could not fight them. But, she could run. The idea trickled into her mind, and on an agile foot she pivoted, and went back the way she had come. Behind her, the rumbles of angry dragons lent adrenaline to her blood, and desperation to her stride. She flew down the halls, heart pumping and lungs cramping. A stitch in her side grew, but she knew she had to keep going, had to continue. Walls came and went, and the booming behind her of the dragons' footfalls grew everloud in her ears. She wouldn't give up. Her lips stretched in denial, and she pushed herself further, harder. Eventually she found herself in the red mist -- where she had been at the start of it. She pushed harder, and somehow skidded to a stop within Hunt's hollow. "Hunt!" She cried out, toes crying out in relief for the dirt-packed ground. She collapsed against a treet, using its solid form to keep herself upright. "Hunt!" How she managed to bellow the word, even she did not know, but bellow she did. The rumbling grew louder, and creature turned to face the coming tides. It was then that Hunt appeared behind the creature, and watched with cruel eyes Her own protege. "Kill." She spoke, her voice velvety and cool, "Take what I have given you." The creature did not twitch, or turn around. It was unnecessary. Hunt's strength flooded into her, and she found herself freshened enough to pull this thing off. She would have to. There were no pack to aid her; no allies to give her succor. But she would succeed. She would do what she had to do. The woman lifted her head, all the shreds of her mind converging on the same, sole ideal: Finish the hunt. The dragons finally stepped through the red mist, and creature faced them alone. She lifted her chin, and held the talon ready. It was a good day, after all.
Isen plods onward, shaken, yet alive. A new arrow rests on his bow, his fingers itching to draw it. He stops, suddenly, the thick silence broken by the sounds of iron-shod feet. 'Round the corner before him strides two imposing figures, all clad in black iron. The arrow makes a 'ping' sound as it bounces off the thick sheets of metal; the tip breaking off and dropping to the ground. Isen fumbles for the long knife at his belt, knowing what little good it would do him, but needing it, nonetheless. His left hand clamps down upon the heated disk, and an idea strikes him like a thunderbolt. As the two figures draw near, he allows his need to flow through the disk, the power shooting through him instantly. The iron armor of the figures suddenly quivers, then jerks inward, crumpling like so much paper. Blood runs in torrents from the bodies, every bit of flesh squeezed dry by the crushing metal. The Labyrinth's eerie light brightens, a pleased-sounding humming emitting from the very walls as they react to the Chaos magic of Isen's disk.
Dulcinea hesitates, wavering between concern and the desire to just not be -here- anymore. Weighing her options, she lets out a much beleaguered sigh, before carefully stepping towards the coughing form on the ground, quite close to him now. "This is just ridiculous..." Fumbling about in cloak, she withdrew a couple items from an inner pocket. Deftly, she lit the small stub of candle, the small light filling the corridor, brighter and brighter, almost impossibly bright, until the dazzling white light encompassed the complete area around them, turning what had once been utterly black to this shining white marble place. Blinking, the druidess looked at her small bit of candle wide-eyed, knowing that some other hand had been in the making of the light. "Well, now...that's not something you see everyday." Turning her attention to Koranis, she frowned, peering at him in concern. "What's the matter with you?"
Koranis squints his eyes sharply as the corridor fills with light beaming from the candle, his eyes watering after they had became so accustomed to the darkness of the labyrinth. He peers back up at Dulcinea as his eyes slowly start to focus, he clutches at his throat with a sharp wince as he speaks. "Such..hunger, the voices, they wont leave me alone, they make it worse, make the hunger unbareable..The blood..it turns to ash.." He motions his head at the wall opposit them, at the small pile of ash and broken glass.
The dragons roared in tandem, and the fight was on. The creature did not -truly- stand much of a chance against one dragon, much less three -- dead though they may be -- but with Hunt at her back and within the red-misted border of the hollow she stood more than a chance. She could win. So it was with a sneer that she faced them. She would look ridiculous standing there: a scrawny, near-naked elf woman with naught but a large, silver talon in one hand and an abundance of messy, knotted and matted hair; facing three large undead dragons larger, more powerful and deadlier than she would ever be. Bones glistened as their rotting forms drew nearer, and the creature tensed: ready to fight. Yet they did not move to strike. They remained still. Slowly, the creature lowered her weapon, and the four individuals stood staring at one another until finally, the dragon in the center spoke in a gravelly, rumbling voice. "We have been waiting."
Isen drops into a crouch, bewildered, glancing around the stark white walls, which now, as he inspects them closer, seem to have attained a slight blush of light red. Shaking his head, he ignores the phenomenon, and hurries to his freshly slain foes. He extracts one of their swords from the spreading pool of blood, giving his wrist a sharp flick to rid the blade of blood. He tosses his bow aside, gripping the new weapon tightly as he continues on. The maze seems to no longer be such; rather, it is a single path that windes back and forth, forcing Isen to walk lengthy distances down long halls. Reaching the corner of one, he is hardly even surprised to run into several more men, these lightly clad, and armed with slings and iron knives. Two slingers set up carefully aimed barrages, while the two knife weilding foes seek to keep Isen from fleeing.
Dulcinea follows Koranis' gaze to the mess on the floor, frowning at the odd sight. "Well...okay then." The voices could be heard getting louder, the young healer pressed her fingers to her temple, an attempt to block out the distraction for the moment. "Okay, you need blood." Sounds of combat suddenly echoed through the corridor, a strange voice, rising above the multitude before subsiding to just whispers once more. "We have to get out of here..." Glancing back towards her companion, she kneels next to him, appraising eyes assessing his condition. "Can you travel?" Her voice had gentled, seeing him in this weakened condition, doing a lot to lessen her agitation. "We need to get you out of here." Leaning forward, she presses a hand to his brow, as if to ease the voices inside his head. "You must try to block them out."
Lips trembled, and the talon took a tumble to the dirt. The voice resounded painfully within her skull, and creature clapped her hands to her ears. "Out!" she shrieked, shaking her head in denial. "You are of the Eldritch." Claimed another, and this time it was creature that fell to her knees, groaning with the pain of the voices. "You belong to the Cabal." The third rasped, and for the first time in years the creature bowed to another. She bowed over her own knees, crying out for relief, for something to ease the terrible pain that seeped through her fingers. Knives did not hurt so. Hunt gleamed golden behind the creature, neutral features neither condemning nor supporting the creature, who had found herself a new pot of torment. Around them, the red mist thickened, and wisps of light flickered around the outskirts. Hunt leaned back upon Her haunches, satisfied with Her hollow and the events taking place within it. The dragons meanwhile, had ringed the creature, broken bones and dark, congealed blood marking them as unnatural in the sharp relief of Hunt's natural realm. It was a new level for the she-creature, who was suddenly unsure in her newfound power, in the energy that coursed wildly through her veins. Hunt was giving no hints, and the dragons were not easing up on her. "There is a task we would ask of you." The first dragon began anew, and creature placed her face into the dirt. "Stop," she gasped, "Hunt--!" No help was forthcoming as the voices of the dragons took over in entirety. ------------"There is a place." --------------------------"Where one is hidden." -------------------------------- "Lacking in power." ----------------------------------"Needing assistance." -------------------------"You know the way." ---------------------------"It is your task." ----------------------------"Forget your pride." ---------------------"Hunt." --------------------------- "Hunt."-------------------------- "Hunt!" ------------------Echoing silence resounded in her head with such crisp relief that she huddled in silence herself as moments passed. When she finally looked up, the dragons had vanished, and Hunt stood with a mysterious smirk upon Her face, obsidian eyes glinting at the creature in challenge. Creature knew better to ask. Knew better to speak. She picked herself up off the ground -- again -- and plucked the talon from where it had fallen. She wavered dizzily for a minute, but began to walk in a single direction. She had been charged with a task. Now she would complete it.
Isen grimaces slightly, swinging the heavy sword about, the blade biting deeply into one of the men's legs, catching in the bone of his thigh. The other lunges at Isen with his knife, while two stones speed forward. Desperately, Isen grasps the searing stone tightly, and again activiates the magic. The stones effetively return to the men that had launched them, with an added speed, knocking the slingers out cold. The remaining man grins happily, letting out a feral shriek as his blade scrapes across Isen's ribs. Isen grunts in pain, and slams a fist into the man's nose, shattering it and dropping him. Isen wastes no time in slitting the throats of the unconscious men, and putting the first attacker out just as effectivily. Then, though, he crouches against the darkening walls, a hand clutched against the wound on his side as he stares about in trepidation, his breath coming in harsh gasps. The walls were definitely growing more red...
Dulcinea took his weight, gaining her feet as she struggled to help him up. Pulling his arm over his shoulder and allowing him to use her as a crutch, she would survey the long white hallway from beneath his arm. "Well...now for the hard part." Wrapping her arm around his waist and pressing against him in order to take his weight better, she was able to turn them in the direction she thought she had come from. "That's the direction I came from...maybe we should go back that way?" She frowned as the voices swelled in volume, jeering and taunting her and suddenly she wasn't quite so sure that was the direction she had descended from. Turning again, she faced the other way, noticing for the first time (or perhaps the only time it had become visible) a closed door. "Or maybe it was from that direction?" Peering up at him, she furrowed her brow, trying to concentrate to logic her way out of the labyrinth. "This doesn't make any sense...we're in a ship, aren't we? It didn't look this big from the outside...which direction did you say you came from, Mr...whoever you are?"
Koranis struggles to stay withing conciousness as the voices scream and shout within his head, making his whole mind pulsate in pain. His eyes still tightly shut from the fear of loosing control to his growing huger, he spoke faintly to Dulcinea not being able to hear his own words over the voices. "Koranis...I came down from..gap in the planks..I was running..to feed my hunger..I don't know the path I took.." He seems to become more exhausted and drain with each passing moment, in turn putting more pressure and weight onto Dulcinea to support him.