[Act 1] - The Hidden Pursuit

[Wildcard]

Midday. A bright sun. The Tenth of Cryxatum in the Season of Spring, Era XV Post Fractum

Lost to the rooted depth of alleys and dens of evil, the western quarter of the city buckled at the hinges with pine and laborous shackles. Rainwater soaked through careless gaps in the cobblestone and silt as green limestone ringed it's mosaic of citizens, minstrels, craftsmen and jesters with moisture. Here amidst the burned out remnants of wooden homes and gutted cottages weaved plans .. dark and shaded machinations meant to bleed a man dry and take everything he owned. The seeds of dissent, qualified corruption and total bedlam. They worked against each other.. tirelessly eating and stealing as much as they could fill.

From the swollen eyes of the local Gambling Hall came a body thrown to the streets. A disfigured transient began checking the man's pockets before pulling his still breathing head from a pool of muddy waters. There was something strange here.. something not entirely holy .. but sought for. Highly.

[Jacques de Lamont]

Well, it hadn't been a day after arrival. Nor two. It had been several cold nights sleeping in nooks and crannies around the town, looking for anything interesting, anything that would be able to pique the dracon's interest. Nothing had come up. So, this day, he'd meandered around the town, during the cold wet rain, and made his way into the west end. His furs were wet... Soon they would no longer be able to protect against the cold. Soon they would fall apart from the moisture. Soon he would have to find himself some decent clothes, some fair protection against the elements that, until now, had suited him just fine. But now? Now he was tramping through the streets, the incessant rage burning in his belly, eager to be able to use his gauntlets, his broadsword, his claws and fangs and all of his rage in a long string of burning fury.

A crumpling sound behind him made him turn. A body lay in the street, and a bum was inspecting the pockets. Shafts of light from the gambling hall receded, marking the closing of doors upon the eviction of a failure. Finally... maybe some fun would come after all. He ran toward the body, his heart pounding in his chest with excitement and came to a slippery, sliding halt by the man. Kneeling, he took the man's head away from the puddle, and turned it so he could make out the face. Just something to kill... something to hurt... Diana give me something!

[Jade Alanon]

Water dripped from the cracked walls around her as she stood in the dark and dank dungeon. Jade was no stranger to the darkness nor was she a stranger to the feeling of desolation the dungeon instilled in it's victims and visitors alike. The dungeon itself, from what Jade could see of it, looked as though it had seen better days, though it was hard to imagine a well kept dungeon. It was meant to suck the life of those imprisoned within until they almost begged for release, whether their freedom or their death, it mattered little so long as they didn't need to deal with the constant torture of complete isolation.

Jade stood alone, her staff and her bondmate waiting for her, it had been just her led to the dungeon to face the demon that continued to torment her. She had Aganadara hidden, just in case fate took a turn and Jerack was somehow loosed from his prison. It was doubtful, Jade wasn't sure just for what crime he had finally been caught for, apparently bounty hunters had taken him down, it was about time. There was a certain anger that she hadn't been the one to get him, but she reminded herself that he was still alive, they weren't executing him but rather imprisoning him for the rest of his long elven life, would that be more tortorous then death or would it simply buy him time to escape and seek her out again?

She stood still, looking upwards at the figure in the iron cage, the creaking of the chain being the only sound at the moment. Jerack looked as though he had been run through the iron gauntlet, bruises and such all over his body yet the bastard retained the cocky smile on his handsome face, his eyes remained fixed on her and for a moment, she thought he was amused that she was there looking up at him as he hung from his cage. Perhaps he was, there was no remorse in his eyes, which didn't surprise Jade but it irritated her, she wanted him begging for forgiveness, but it was a foolish wish.

Jade took a step forward and looked down at the dark abyss he hung over, he would be lowered into it to hang, for who knew how long. Jade didn't believe that this would be the last she saw of Jerack, she wasn't such a fool as to believe a cage could keep such a monster bound and when he did escape, she would face him in battle and she would kill him. Aganadara pulsed at her side, but she held it and herself at bay. Thesilence between them was near deafening, Jade couldn't bring herself to speak for a few moments, so many emotions lay entwined within her form, coiled so tight that they were ready to snap.

Rage and pure hatred were the strongest emotions she felt, Jerack didn't deserve to breath while others didn't, but saying such meaningless things to Jerack would most likely only give him satisfaction because it would show that just his presence got to her. The tension in the stale dungeon air was thick enough to crush Jade's lungs, she wanted out of there, shouldn't have even been there, but she had to come, had to see this man off into his loneliness abyss. "I hope you suffer Jerack," her words were emotionless, the emotion lay in her hard emerald eyes. She didn't shed a tear for she was past crying over Jerack and his deeds, she was stronger and hopefully he would see that. "Suffer until we meet again."

This wasn't exactly the gratitude one would expect when Jerack had technically saved Jade's life not once but twice. Once from the orcs that he commisioned to tear through her village and then again in Zinn'Sunn where she had nearly been beheaded. But he hadn't done it for her but for himself, he didn't want to lose her so easily, but he couldn't lose something he never truly had. Jade took a few steps back, still staring at the figure in the cage and waited for them to lower him down, she would remain there until she could no longer look into his eyes.

[Ebramsom de Lylles]

The youth of Lauryl and friend of High Peak, arrived in the town along the river. He had wandered the streets enjoying the town, but now paused as he realized he had come upon one of the more undesirable sections of the city.

Keeping his self wraped in his cloak to fight of the little chill left over from winter Ebram slipped his ring off and into his pocket just to be on the safe side. His blond hair framed his face and hide his ears, but that did little hide his race. His green eyes danced with curiosity as he looked around. He could see the man being thrown from the hall and avoided looking suprised. Something he had learned in Prime was that one didn't show what one was thinking.

He looked around noticing the people around him but didn't approach anyone.

[Keeva Kaldres]

Keeva scarcely realised the very name of this town, much as she had entered the usually route; through the gates. The past season had been an eventful one for her, and much as she had been looking forwards to settling down in distant Queens, too much had happened there now to make her pause. The matter of her family, and the incidents which had occurred during the investigation of a strange murder…they weighed heavily upon her mind, as a sign of two things. Firstly, that her take on justice was misguided, at times unlawful, to a tee. And secondly, that she was still far, far too weak.

And now her travels had brought her here, so it seemed, to a place she felt no connection to, which drew only apathy from her blood.

The cowl of her cloak covered a lovely, yet haunted face, whilst beneath the folds the lady was armed. The horse she had rode in upon was equally dreary and dark, plodding the pathways with about as much care as its guide.

The woman did not even register the danger of where is was that she was.

[Wildcard]

As Jacques de Lamont grabbed his prey by the scalp he could hear that wanton abyss slink through his thoughts. That smokey texture rise across his palate.. the one he alienated. The one that made him who he was.. Forced this restless pasture of torment. It slipped into his tear ducts, vibrating the Dracon's sinuses like a bass tremor. That rabid stillness before the moment.

The release.

He controlled the spasm as his discipline demanded.. something yielded to the will of a simple Wyrmchild after all. Some delicious forbearance.. It gave him reprieve to think. To sniff. To smell his prey. It could sense it. That Aura awaking beneath this puddle. Holistic in weight. A rudder.. small and tiny that may yet guide galleons, cities and the millions more in the wait. In a puddle. In a ragged, soaking purse in a goddamn puddle.

Looking up, a tall brutal and enduring presence awaited him. A worn pair of slacks matched bare cotton long johns and suspenders. Grave gray eyes, silver hair, slate mustache and beaten socket. This human held a strange machination leveled at Lamont's rising skull line. It was a black pipe set into a hardwood stock, much to the making of a crossbow but empty of both bow and slight string.
"Get." Was all the heavyset Rhagnrd would grit through his spotless teeth while pulling back a brass trigger latch over the rear end of the instrument. A series of gears clicked in response as if preparing for the totalitarian obliteration of one more hot headed wash up.

From behind watchful Ebramsom's right shoulder shimmered the iridescent outline of some invisible shape. It took physicality into a deep and vibrantly hued wet monstrosity. Bulging eyes.. ten, twelve more matched the humanoid contortion of sickly limbs prewrapped in cadaverous animation. The diamond edge of a sword's lifeline bristled beneath forearms and protruding boneless tentacles.

Raising the muzzle over Jacque's right ear the old gambler's boomstick dropped the hammer. A blistering purge of buckshot and black powder wet the skies, ripping through the hungry venom like a siege engine; tearing it literally limb from limber in the gory convulsion of a thunderclap. The edges of this flaccid sinew did burn golden and vicious hell hot red.. sizzling to a stop beneath the bubbles of the puddle next to the Draconian interloper. Leering in white light Lamont was disorientated by the sudden fixture of ending and the noise that rocked his eardrums like an avalanche.

De Lylles behind him was covered in near invisible goo.. sloppy dark stains of insides and former epidermal substances. What in the depths of Krypta had just happened??
Too little, too late...
Another of these vapid creatures swiftly appeared from the opposing end of the street, body checking a young lady in it's crushing advent. Keeva bypassed the impact effortless by stepping to the side. Another shot rang out startling a remaining murder of ravens perched above the icy shingles. This time projectile heat slumped through the knee cap of the monstrosity, shattering the gelatinous beast's tibia to pieces leaving only a smoldering foot and a very angry limping outsider. It adapted. Changed. Leveling tentacles from the shoulders and sockets to counterbalance this fall.. charging full slope to such sanctuary of The Bloody Crown. Growling low the old human then discarded the strange hollow tool to the floor of his establishment, brandishing a horrifying steel tomahawk while walking even and slowly out towards the fresh mutation. "If ye can't afford ta' loose... " The weapon embedded into screaming popping eyes like a bubble bath. "Don't PLAY the Fething GAME."

Dear Gods what was afoot? Four more deep green and wet creatures materialized from the thinnest of air to each side and flank.. leaving the old man, Jacques de Lamont, a young cloaked Ebramsom and Keeva Kaldres forced to the center of a pine trimmed X. A convergence of death .. A Crossroads .. Pinned against the odds guarding a drunk and an empty gambling hall. They backed in towards the double sliding doors, watching these Bedouin shadows encroach.. Weighing the Odds.. And for what? That itch in the back of the Dracon's mind was right about something.. Something heavy and of value.

Consequence.



- Constabulary Dungeon -


Jade Alanon watched her strange repressed self hang from the insides of a chained fence. That inner unconscious desire, the faulty weakness in a person that contorted from the very insides outward. The thing you hate buying time against the grain of your own self control. Jerack.

Hang. For Eternity.

The murderer Smiled. He worshiped his idol with a gaze of sweet hunger and the leer of passionate anarchy. How he would crush the Persona that teased him here now. How he would ravage her, force her to see every element from his own shadowed paradigm. Their eyes caught in the glow of a rat's nest and torchlight. The glint of such spectral haunting was like a physical blow to the chest. Jerack the madman fed the assassin a glimpse of his very soul. Waiting for her like an Executioner. "You look good in Red. I've always wanted to see you covered in the Apologies of my victims. YOUR victims. I'm so very Sick they say.. Pity because their Tongues wouldn't wag So empty of Ivory. Shaking like DOGS! But I've got the ball .. and you want to play F E T C H .. Going to have to wait..."

He sniffed while pressing both hands through the bars. "We'll meet again LOVER. Count on it." The prisoner quietly leered at the Sanguine as they lowered him down. She'd never seen the man like this before. So beaten, so bruised that he'd snap. Pushed to a point of shame and complete abandon. They drove him too far... Someone did. And by the look in those rabid eyes.. They'd Pay. She knew somehow that he'd live.. get out.. and force whatever agency that did this to his manners to Fold with their very lives, but slowly and with an shallow artistry of care. He had always been temperamental, but This .. was a new place.. even for him. So ultra violent and filled with all encompassing lust that logical breathing receded to the foaming depths of these seas of chaos. Plundered like grapes. They better lock him deep and without mercy because he would show them none at all. NONE. AT all. She shivered.. taking ten steps back. Feeling a leather hand behind her, Alanon measured a new voice.. calm and serene..

"I had come for him .. but you'll do." Pulling the girl sharply by the roots, Young Jade the Thorn and Rose blanked out in sudden blackness. An empty Midnight Response to the impact of something very drastic. Power below Description.

[Jacques de Lamont]

It had all happened so fast! Fething Diana and cyraxian taint, he'd let everything envelop him, flowed into the confrontation with little to no regard to the consequences! Consequence! The voice shrieked through Lamont's head, bringing forth another intense yearning, a further wave of desire, rage, of overwhelming passion to have and to hold and to keep. And he didn't even know what it was he wanted! It was just an urge, just an impulse, pounding, humming, thrumming through his body and touching upon every synapse in his brain that he must have it, must acquire it... No matter of what it was, or what he did to get it, but it had to be his!

And, backing into the establishment, and away from what he desired. Something he wanted.

No. He needed this object. Power. Worth.

Consequence.

The frustration, the infantile frustration, the want and the basic animalistic need built up rapidly, sending fire into his belly and quakes into his arms, fingers, claws... Wrapped in rusted bladed gauntlets, his automatically flexing muscles clenched, finalizing the wanton and likely brash decision. He had to have it! Had to hold it! Had to know what in the fething void it was!

With a roar, the battle for Jacques was set, and he sped idiotically towards the monstrosity closest to the body, closest to the man he needed to move, closest to his prize. It would feel the rage... with extended claws moving to rip out a heart, it would feel this dracon's rage.

[Connor O'Riley]

ooc: Hope this is a good entrance post.

ic: Having been traveling the city for about five days Connor finally was alone until he seen a scene unfolding before him. The scene was a group of men, a man with a steel tomahawk, and a dracon with blood rage. Connor then waited for the perfect moment before taking the spear he had stuck inside his pack. He then through it at one of the gellatin's head. If it connected he would draw that old dagger he carried around and hurl it at another one. If the spear didnt connect he would draw the long knife and run into the battle and if the spear connected but the knife didnt he would draw the same long knife and charge into with a battle cry. Once he was in the battle he would send a slash to where the throat should be then send a feint to the left only to bring the blade through the middle. He would continue doing the feint until he got bored with it or they started getting wise to it which was unlikely. While he was attacking he would ask "How is everyone tonight." in a non-challant way.

[Jade Alanon]

Sparkling angel, I couldn't see
Your dark intentions, your feelings for me.
Fallen angel, tell me why?
What is the reason, the thorn in your eye?
I see the angels,
I'll lead them to your door
There's no escape now
No mercy no more
No remorse cause I still remember
The smile when you tore me apart

It wasn't hard to believe that even in a time where he was supposedly facing justice for his crimes, he was still able to smile. He looked Jade over from within the cage, his eyes watching her hungrily, she couldn't deny the lust that lay behind his eyes. He wanted her, he had been denied the pleasure of her company time and time again, which was a relief for the young woman. She couldn't stomach the thought of Jerack getting his hands on her, for she knew there would be no mercy in his touch, no true love but twisted obsessed love for her.

For a moment, their eyes locked and she was unable to pull her gaze away, there was a glint there that didn't come from the torchlight, it came from Jerack's eyes, his soul. It felt like he had balled up his fist and somehow punched her in the chest, it was that sharp sudden feeling that left one gasping for breath. Jade looked away, looking anywhere other then at Jerack, afraid that he would do something similar once again. He spoke and his words came out in rambles, none of it making sense, at least not to her.

Jerack had always been odd, had always been temperamental, but the man before her was not the Jerack she had known once before. He had changed and developed over the eras, but over a small period of time, he had somehow been broken, she could see it when he had bared his soul to her, someone had pushed Jerack too far somehow and caused him to snap. She felt her hands clench into tight fists as he dared to call her his lover, but she didn't doubt his words for even a second, she knew without a doubt that Jerack was too stubborn to give in to death, especially like this. No, he would survive and he would escape and he would make all those that had tortured him pay slowly and painfully.

She watched as he was lowered down into the darkness, he didn't plead for his life, he didn't have to. He would resurface again and leave a trail of blood in his wake when he sought Jade out once again and she would be ready for him with a dagger specially made to be placed between his ribs.

Once Jerack disappeared from sight, Jade felt a sense of relief come over her that it was over for now. She could find some time to rest without the constant worry and danger that Jerack brought to her life. She shivered and took a few steps back, readying herself to leave the cold desolate dungeon. However, it seem fate had different plans for the Sanguine woman.

A voice came from behind as a leather hand settled on her back. The voice was calm, though she had little time to determine it's origin for she was pulled into sudden darkness, unable to fight or anything.

[Ebramsom de Lylles]

Ebram watched with surprise as the man stepped forward and started to shoot at the strange blobs that suddenly seemed to surround them. He felt his back being splashed by one of the creatures, briefly glade he was wearing a coat. He started at the ooze and then turned back his eyes wide, as he slipped his hand to the new sword at his side. He wasn't great at it yet but it helped him feel better.

He stepped back and looked between them. His mind racing. He had heard about innocent adventures becoming but it hadn't ever happened to him, but it appeared that it know was.

Ebram pulled out his blade not sure if it would be much help, and also prepared the shield that he had with him. He stepped back towards the establishment and stepped to the back. He closed his eyes as the two fighters stepped forward to do battle. He wasn't sure who they were but they were attacking and hopefully giving him enough time. As he meditated he felt clara touch him and gathering force energy from the Plane of Force he gathered it to himself and combined it with Vis to create Mana. He pictured a whirling blade flying out from him and spinning towards one of the creatures. He filled it with energy and released his spell [/url=http://www.playbypost.com/forums/spellbook/76907-star-force.html]Star of Force[/url]

[Wildcard]

Poetry. Tone. Linguistics. Inflection, intonation, meter, metrical patterns.

a butchery of words splayed over pages soaked in it's sanguine juice. A sudden inspiration to speak or splay text to prisms of mindful penitence.
The stone fortress of orgiastic wine gods coming to a close before your very eyes, it's chiseled drawbridge lowering the crest of fertility. here.
She heard them. Low. Chants. Murmurs. .like dogs barking. Echoing beyond temple walls. Doric Columns, a brazer bronze blue oil in flame cauldron. Here the smell of burning olive leaves.

In a blur the sensation would leave. In a white space. A room. with no walls.

She awoke.

Heady stone thoughts juxtaposing black to white. monastic colors. Shades of Grey. The static of an outline covered in ravens like a cloak and shadow. She bled from the insides, repugnant and sweet. Every moment would soak the floor with her. Hair wet as gothic velvet. Night played. Between the fingers.

Jade.

Rose petals died in the matter. Soaking creed. sanguine. Across stood this shade, the man of impossible crafting. A push past restraint cloaked again and again in the frock of crows and ravens, corvine puissant provocation. Like a sin she was not awake but to the moment. The void kept calling, asking and asking but never telling.

Jade Alanon.

Woke to the sound of dripping water touching stone. Wet dreams brutal and giving as the night who shaded it's veil across perfection. The shake never quit, that sensation of horrible foreshadowing..The call. Black Birds. One sat on the sill of her window, gargantuan and monstrous but not unfashionable before bars of base metal. Not gold. Not silver. But Iron.. gory and steady. Holding her inside. Here to breach cowards and the hunted. Perhaps the other wall held answers.. no. only masks of further black appliance, open mouthed and twisted faces of drama like fauns and satyr.

This was a cell, padded in the twisted awakening out fashioned by reality. It's door was surprisingly open. There was hay, a table with a single candle and a book closed boasting feather pen atop it's leather spine.. at last a round red apple. A note reading.

Freedom.

Discarding the paper, Jade would find the book formed from the exacting cut of skin emptied out of many sentient creatures. It was unspoiled and cool to the touch. Aside from such strange creation there was a clear blue teardrop made of substance not unlike her weapon named Aganadara..

Who was this voice.. this figure who spoke from her thoughts like some clairvoyant black winged Sephroth? Basking in Deep red.. Crimson feathers.
Hanging from the room of her cell strung a corded noose, beside that rusted chains, and behind that spiked lengths of fraying whip. There was a solid gold key shaped into the torsion of a perfect sun also leveled here, by a length of long brown hair. As was a goat's curling horn. What did it all mean? Was it a riddle.. a sign .. a test? Some inner awareness.. In the mouth of these asphyxiated metal faces were key holes.. A screaming face. A laughing face. A withered face. A demon face. A pious face. A mouth clamped shut all spat back gilded remarks as if providing answers within their enigma.

The door limiting these chambers held no latch or lock.. barred shut from beyond. Shifting it's clawed feet, the bird at the bars also said nothing .. only waited .. for decisions.


--


Lamont ate at the body, stringing tendons to grip the stirrups of any power inside. Slicing through a leather satchel the bowels betrayed several elements. An aurum key, a severed finger pierced by thorns, an orc's eyeball.. several coins and a spool of heavy thread; a worn deck of cards betrayed the face of it's stack. It was a Grinning Fool.. locked in form by paint and pigment. No time to delay further as spikes covered in green mucus slid through his screaming shoulder blade like a siren's whisper. The shudder of poison disseminated the wound in acidic virulent slice.
The Dracon gripped the offending piece of flesh by his metal claws and severed the beast's strong right arm. Jumping forward such green skin of mercury sprouted three more, each one bearing further tense grudge. Jacques would have to act fast.. soft blubber awaited him shielding a plethora of eyesockets and questions.. but it was pliable and easily betrayed.

Connor O'Riley connected his spear to the appendage of a gelatin. His dagger met result also but the beast kept coming regardless.. both weapons hung like false prophets from the smooth iridescence as the monstrosity then returned fire; metamorphic tendrils tipped like a scorpion's tail. One barbed point aimed for the lad's left knee socket while the second tore towards his chest with fasting rage. There was an empty pine building behind the newcomer, a burned out husk soaked in rain. From the right came yet another atrocity, slinking in as a land gliding octopus feeding fangs on the oxygen between them... it's gills dissolving into a blue spire of color as such weeping draw of breath seemed to pull from it's chest for the very first time. Another taunt of blades poured from the screaming creature out it's tails and fingernails. The boy had to retreat or get craftier then his tone right quick.

A pulse of magic and phosphorous sundered a bed of damp grey tissue, carving through a gelatinous frame with the predication of steel. Ebramson's ejection of force leveled a single beast in two complete pieces. Each separate chunk grew fresh limbs then continued to crawl towards Connor.. De Lylles would have to do far better then a vignette if the man arriving to his defense was to live at all. Such a sting was truly venomous and without mercy in trial or error. With his shield up, most of the liquid insides responsive to Ebramson's cut splattered harmlessly away... the heady magic cooling in his skull. With a crackle there was time for more.

Slinking to the shadows Keeva was taken aback by the sudden depravity of soil and soul. Gruff human hands pulled her aside as another beast leveled a sickly spike at the girl's forehead, splicing the tool with a silver gambit. A tomahawk in the palm of a Rhagnard brute.. He flung her effortlessly through the door of the gambling hall so as she could prepare defense to save her life and perhaps the lives of these mortal skins soft and pliable to the designs of immovable destiny. .. There was much, much to do.. and many ways to enact the thoughts of her mind. First and foremost the limping dracon tearing his way through a puddle...howling like it's greater cousin as tainted claws collided into an spinning array of severed arms and hewn thighs.. The veins tightened their bind as blood bristled to each and every side.

[Jacques de Lamont]

WHAT IS IT?! The rage ripped through his body, tearing Jacques into and through and pulverizing the pieces of soft skin proving to be an obstacle at this most inopportune moments. WHY DO I NEED IT?! Impulses drove him forward, through muscles, tendons, ripping away bones and sending blood coursing through the streets. Whatever this thing was, it had to be removed! Out of the way, out of the path! Worth! Power! He tore, ripped, and sliced his way through a body, his rational mind now completely lost in a sea of lust after an object of questionable nature. Hunks of flesh, torn away by eager hands, sailed through the air and bounced along the slick road, now awash with crimson blood. And, at last, he reached the bag, the satchel, containing!... Junk?!

Suddenly, pain rushed through the dracon's shoulder, inducing a back arcing roar of pain and frustration. With one hand, he tore away the offending appendage, throwing it aside like so many pieces of what could very well have been an innocent, albeit very drunk, man. Red eyes leveled on the monster, all flailing limbs and jelly, slowly stuffing the pouch of potpourri in his cloak to keep it secure and close...
Writhing, jerking, gelatinous enemy, what to do with the rage inside, how best to release? How best to destroy you? the voice came calmly, nearly lilting. The contemplative tone washed over Lamont with syrupy slowness, loathing and utter hatred overtaking wanton rage, slowly and surely brushing the red mist from his vision and replacing it with what felt like a hole in his stomach. Kill it. It's the only way to satisfy your hunger, and you know it...

Lamont reached behind his head and drew the broadsword he did not know how to use, clenching it with one bloodsoaked hand, the bidding of his symbiote too much to resist in his weak-minded state. And cold, malicious intent flooded his mind, flooded his synapses, and threw the dracon toward it's foe, hacking and slashing with the sword without skill, ripping and clawing with his other hand with the skills afforded him by just being of his kind. The only goal? Rip the torso to shreds. Never mind the arms and legs... Just destroy that chest, those lungs, those ribs, that heart.

[Connor O'Riley]

Connor twirled the longknife so the blade was coming out the bottom of his palm instead the top. He then leaped to his left trying to avoid the tendrils. He then noticed the organs and said "Take out the vital organs like the heart and lungs." He looked around and and spotted the spear and dagger in one of the forms and made a grab for the spear. If he got it he would then take the spear and stab at the heart of the creature and then stab at another. If he didn't get the spear he would send a slash at the lungs then a downward stab at the head area.

[Ebramsom de Lylles]

Ebramsom heard the call and nodded his head. He once again entered clara and gathered power from the plan of socerery to form mana. In his mind eye he saw the bolt of energy form before him spiraling inward until it was pure energy ready to piercing something. He pictured it shooting out and piercing one of the hearts to the creatures attack the man who had just joined the fray.

Ebram pulled mana into the image and then released it aiming at the creatures heart.

[Jade Alanon]

Darkness had enveloped the Sanguine woman from behind, someone had done this to her, someone had taken her from the dungeon where she had to watch Jerack's descent where he belonged. She didn't remember much and she realized that she was not fully awake, she was trapped in darkness. She was unable to move, unable to really do much of anything. Despite her lack of consciousness, she was still subjected to...something. She could hear low chanting, low murmurs though she knew not where they came from. It was as though the sounds were echoing against stone walls, a temple of some sort. She could see in her minds eye a flame cauldron and smell burning olive leaves. All passed in an instant and then it was gone. All she saw was a white space, she could tell it was a room but it was completely white and there were no walls.

Jade awoke.

No, she was not awake, it was another layer of the darkness, more visions that assaulted her mind and senses and not one of them made sense. She felt blood from the inside and it was a mixture of pleasure and pain, she couldn't bring herself to wake from this dream. It had to be a dream. Stone surrounded her, going from black to white and various shares, she saw shadows and feathers, a sort of gothic darkness.

This couldn't be real. She couldn't break free from the darkness, from the visions that continued to strike at her, she felt as though she was floating as she watched the visions take place. More ravens and feathers, the form of a man was seen and yet she couldn't make it out, she couldn't make any of this out. She wanted to cry out in her frustration, push away the nightmares and seek her own body, somehow wake it from the dreams and visions that gripped it. She could hear someone calling to her. Gods she just wanted to...

Wake up!

It was then Jade truly awakened, all she had seen and smelled faded but did not entirely vanish. It hurt to actually open her eyes, her actual eyes. Was she truly awake? She blinked as a drop of water touched her forehead, it was actually good to feel something other then the ache and the fear. It took a moment for her to sit up, trying to shake what had gone on inside her mind before she woke. The feeling a dark shadow cast over her remained, unable to shake it, the small room held her for now. No, not a room but rather a cell, a cage of iron bars. How had she gotten here? Why was she here in the first place? Her emerald eyes searched her cell and took notice of the enormous black bird on the sill, she closed her eyes and recalled black feathers a great deal, did it hold significance?

She groaned as she got to her feet, brushing her hair from her face as she tried to regain her bearings, she was still feeling disoriented but she was getting a hold of things. If there was one thing Jade did not like, it was being left in the dark of what was going on, dealing with the unknown. What was worse was she was alone, no Nymira there with her. She took notice of the macabre display of twisted faces on the wall and pondered their significance as well, but she decided to seek out a way out of the room rather then ponder them. The door to her cell was actually open for some odd reason, which caused Jade to be hesitant as she exited the cell.

She inspected the table first, a candle was lit and a book sat upon the table with a feather pen on the leather spine. A note had been left for her as well as a red apple that she did well to ignore. Freedom...but how? She discarded the paper and instead ran her fingers over the book. It was cool to the touch and smooth, the skins of beasts was what covered the book. It repulsed her to an extent and she pulled her hand back. Her emerald eyes were drawn to the clear blue teardrop that rested next to the book. It wouldn't have caught her eye had it not been for the fact that it reminded her a great deal of her beloved dagger Aganadara.

A glint caught her eye as she held the teardrop in her hand and she looked upwards, seeing the gold key that seemed to wait for her. She needed that key, this was much sure. But how to retrieve it? Upon looking around the room again, she took notice of a corded noose and a fraying whip. She took hold of the noose and did what she could to pull it down, hoping to use it as a noose to retrieve the key. Once it came loose, Jade attempted a few times to reach the key, upon her success, she kept it close. She didn't have much in this room, only what she had been given and she would use them to the best of her abilities.

Once she held the gold key in her hand, she returned to her cell, she had noticed a keyhole in one of the mouths when she had first seen them and pondered if if was the keyhole for the key. However, upon looking at all the masks, she found they all held keyholes. It was a guessing game, but what happened if she was wrong? What pain would befall her if she chose wrong? Could she be worse off then she was now? Possibly, only one way to find out. Jade took a deep breath before reaching the key forward towards the pious face, hoping that the key fit there and that she would be freed from the room.