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While West's room had barely seen any shadowling damage due to his legendary badassery, he still found the occasional chomp-shaped chunk missing from a piece of furniture or other random belonging. Today, it was his chair, and he was halfway between his desk and the door, chewed-on trash lifted over his head, when it happened.

The crash was impressive in its forcefulness, considering the size of its cause. The wrath demon only had a second to glare at the window-breaking bird as it flopped around in a heap of broken glass before there was a smaller boom and a new splatter on his rug. Not that there were any old splatters. West might have been untidy, but he wasn't dirty.

"Piece o—" He brought his chair back down to the floor and crouched to get a closer look. There was only one creature who would send an exploding bird to his room. It must have been time to meet with his mentor.

It didn't take long for him to get to Bird Park, nor to figure out where he was supposed to go. West peered up into the trees, spotting Rage the second time he looked at the spot where the Trick-or-Treater had chosen to perch. Sneaky. Or maybe the boil was just unobservant.

"I'm here," he said. "Whaddaya wa—" No. Polite. "I got yer bird."

It was difficult to keep his snark in check once the whole tree-opening thing didn't seem to go as planned, but West's mirth was stifled not very long after that when his mentor's punch worked where his knocking had not. It made sense. A rage master's secret lair should only open in response to sufficient demonstrations of pure an—

What the Jack? What was this place?

West followed Rage down the stairs in silence, examining their surroundings with a critical eye. Not only had he not expected the interior of a tree to be so... stony... but prior to this moment, he probably wouldn't have bet there was a tree anywhere in Halloween with quite so many torches inside.

"Yeah, I knew 'bout the weddin' thing," he muttered, narrowing his eyes at Rage's little... costume. West had been present for that JOYful snowball fight and all that had come after, but he had never expected it to be mentioned again, especially not by the groom-to-be himself. Was this sort of thing a standard request from mentors? Would he grow stronger or faster by gathering lava in a thermos? To be fair, he hadn't thought much of Rage's last request until he had gone to carry it out. Maybe this would be the same. And speaking of that...

"I tossed some... yer... a couple of those balls around. Got some shots of people covered in s**t." Like you do. "A reaper an' a monster. They were pissed. Th' ghoul tried t' throw'er f'miliar at me." He grinned faintly at the memory. It had taken some extra work to get the second kid angry enough to suit West, but it was all in a day's work for a wrath demon. He had finally done his job properly. The boil brought the first picture up on his eyephone and held it out for SR to see.

Eventually, he turned back to look at the mannequin with a reluctant sigh. "I'll go to yer Hordor too an' get yer lava, but this outfit'd better fit an' nobody better be takin' pictures in this volcano if it don't." He doubted his mumblings would be taken into consideration at all, but his pride demanded that he voice his misgivings. There were a few too many levels of embarrassment here, even for West. Costumes, peh. He sighed again as he reached for the cape. "Y'gonna turn around?"

The phone went back into West's pocket without comment. He then quickly changed into the... shoeless... outfit Rage had provided, only frowning slightly as he settled the cloak over his shoulders. At least nothing was too small and it covered most of his skin. Any reactions to his mentor's further comments were expressed in a series of increasingly exaggerated eyerolls. With Rage's back turned surely he couldn't see them, right?

Once everything was in order, West grabbed his gloves and thermos, stuck them in a convenient pouch on the inside of his cloak, and pulled open the door to Hordor, keeping his eyes on the strange portal as he listened to the last of the ghost's instructions.

"Yeah, got it." The land beyond the door looked broken and rocky, which was sure to be murder on his tender little naked feet feel like nothing under his manly soles. West sighed, then took one last look back at the sofa and its surly occupant. "Be right back," he said. And then he was gone.


Hordor turned out to be just as dark and gloomy as advertised. Dark and gloom usually weren't all that bad in most Halloween situations, but when they were accompanied by an eerie lack of life and a strange, sound-dampening heaviness in the air, West couldn't help thinking of the one place he usually did anything to keep from recalling. The cave where Red had died. Where he had died.

West quickened his pace without thinking, determined to find another living creature as quickly as possible, even if it was an enemy. The ground ahead rose at an angle far steeper than any he had yet to come across, and the boil struggled a bit as he scrambled onward. By the time he reached the peak of the slope, West was out of breath and far more concerned with keeping himself from tumbling back down the hill behind him than he was with the road ahead. He definitely didn't notice the bird.

There was a barely perceptible change in the feel of the world around him as the beast closed in, like someone had sucked the rest of the air out of the already oppressive atmosphere. West had just managed to pull himself to his feet again at the top of the hill when he noticed the creature's approach. He braced his legs slightly, crouching in anticipation of an attack, but he didn't anticipate quite well enough to match the reality of the situation.

The animal—which was clearly not a bird now that he could see it up close—pulled up short in front of him, turning its head sharply left and right to get a better look at the demon in its midst. It flapped its massive wings to keep itself hovering, and the gusts of wind it kicked up were so great they almost knocked West back. He curled his toes into the rock and spread his arms. Normally, he might have taunted the beast, but he had a feeling it would be a waste of breath this time.

The demon and the creature of Hordor simply stared at each other for the better part of a minute. Then, having received no indication that the boil was going to break on his own, the beast made him do so. Without warning, it opened its dripping maw and screeched at West, throwing him to the ground more effectively than any of its flapping had. The boil gagged as its breath washed over him. Soon, he was doing a lot more than that.

He tried to get back to his feet, but his body was currently more concerned with dealing with the realities of suffocation and painfully stinging lungs than with standing upright. West rolled off to one side to avoid the creature's flailing talons, but eventually it took off again and he was free to get up.

"YOUPEESASHIIIIIT!" he bellowed, stomping forward and raising his fists along the way. He could barely breathe and his voice sounded like he had been smoking since before he'd left the pumpkin, but neither of those things were going to keep him from punching this thing out of the sky.

"GET DOWN 'ERE!"

The creature seemed to mutter to itself for a moment before it complied. Well, that was disappointing. West had expected a bit of fight. He shook his head, but otherwise wasted no time charging the beast, his fists smacking it whenever he could get a clear shot. It squawked and shuffled about, and eventually West caught it at a particular angle and...


...the creature was gone.

West dropped his arms to his sides, breathing deeply as he watched his most recent nemesis regain control of its faculties and flap away irritably. He clenched his fists, looking down at them with a frown. That had almost been too easy. It made the boil suspicious, to say the least. For a brief moment, he wondered if he had gained so much knowledge over the past few years that he was now the ultimate fighting machine. Could he venture out into Halloween and beyond, smacking humans and his own kind, taking their treasures, pissing them off? West looked up again. No. That was probably just the lingering effects of air loss on his brain talking.

As he prepared to descend the cliff, his mind circled back around to pondering what it might be like to go on journeys like this all the time. Were there creatures who literally did nothing else? From all the hushed talk of artifacts flying around lately, the boil had to guess that there were enough strange things between here and the human world to find that the answer was yes. West had thought he'd be a Trick or Treater once he had graduated, and he still thought so, but maybe he could go on... adventures sometimes as well.

He shook his head. There was no time to think about that now. He had to keep moving.

Upon first noticing his next obstacle, West had almost turned back, thinking the former cave was a dead end due to all the webbing spanning its mouth. He sighed and closed his eyes, trying to keep himself from raging at the thought of having to traipse through some spider's a** taffy. Somehow he figured it wouldn't be in his best interest to make too much noise around here. The boil thought about turning around even after he realized there was no other way forward, but he eventually decided it wasn't worth his time to search. He had already wasted enough of it standing here trying to strategize when he should have been plowing through. He would navigate this mess of webbing and he would dissipate the spider who had made it if it tried anything.

The stuff moved aside easily enough with little more than a sweep of his hand, and soon West was deep in the cave, striding through the darkness with a confidence he was stupid to feel. It was oppressively silent here, and he was sure each scuffle of his feet against the rocks drew his enemies closer. He would have welcomed another fight had he come here on his own, but Rage was expecting him back, or at least the boil thought he was. He would have to be quick.

Before too much longer, West noticed a light ahead. It was difficult to see through all of the webs, but eventually he realized he could make out the dim shapes of his hands and the rocks around him instead of nothing at all. He sped up, almost tripping over more webs, the light growing steadily brighter the farther he went.

He wasn't expecting to get stuck.

West didn't notice the resistance right away, but soon it became hard to ignore, and not long after that, he couldn't move at all. There was something creeping up behind him, but he could no longer turn his head to see what it was. This webbing was far stronger than the sort he had first encountered.

"A trap," he muttered. "Good one, assh—"


It had been twenty-eight years since he had last seen his parents, and had they not relented and made first contact, he could have easily stretched his indifference for twenty-eight more. To be fair, his mother had been trying to repair the burned bridges between them for years now, but he had remained resolute. It had hurt to ignore her letters and messages at first, but eventually he had become numb to them. It was his father he had been determined to wait out, and all of his carefully cultivated patience had finally paid off. He had won.

He could almost feel Duran's eyes boring into the back of his skull. Instead of giving his father the satisfaction of his attention, West kept his gaze on his youngest son's reaper bride as she strode down the aisle. The ghoul was bold and striking in her blood red gown, just the sort of s**t disturber their well-behaved boil needed.

He reached out his right hand without looking, giving Levi's leg an affectionate squeeze. He saw her turn to look his way out of the corner of his eye and he smirked. Things were just as they should be. Everything was—


West awoke to a pain so intense he wondered how he had managed to sleep through it at all. It throbbed outward from his shoulder, pulsing through the entirety of his body with each beat of his heart. He was free again, even though he could barely stand, and as tempting as it was to think about lying down and going back to sleep, he knew he couldn't stay.

With a series of slow steps that started off wobbly but quickly increased in speed and intent, West made his way out of the cave.

For a long time, nothing happened.

It was not a good idea to be this close to something as hot as lava - unless you happen to be someone who can tolerant high temperatures - for long periods of time. It seemed to have messed with your brain and your observation skills... Why were you sitting around when there is a flight of stairs in front of you? It had been carved into the side of the volcano, leading to the lava below. Although it looked like a long climb down, and a misstep might lead to certain doom, it seemed to be the only way to obtain the lava.

... That flight of stairs was there all along, right? You were probably too tired from the hike here, and did not notice it at first.

[OOC:

Climbing down:
You need to travel a total distance of 15:
-> Roll 1d12, and add up every roll till you get a total of 15!
-> The fumes/smoke from the lava is making you hear things - things that make you despair. Every post you make, include one thing that causes West to despair; it can be anything!
-> Once you hit 15/15, simply rp West filling the thermos before climbing up!

Climbing up:
Now filled with despair, make a post about something hopeful/something West is looking forward to!
-> After chasing the despair away with something hopeful, he realizes that the flight of stairs is not as long as he thought it was, and quickly make his way back up.

Once he is back up, make another post about him hiking back, and quote me again SO WE CAN START WRAPPING IT UP! ouob]

Wait. "Peanut butter?" he growled, pausing and clenching his gloved fists. While it was true he didn't like being without the nutty condiment, it was hardly necessary to be thinking about such things when he couldn't even see his refrigerator. "Is that you?" West had no idea who he was speaking to, he only knew that had he been given a choice of things to ponder while gathering lava for his diva mentor, peanut butter would not have been among them. That meant someone had put the thought in his head instead. He took another step.

"Whoever y'are, ya'd better not..."

Jelly.

The urge to leave this place and hurry to the store to purchase grape jelly left an ache in his heart that was difficult to move past for all of ten seconds. He kind of wanted to sit down, or go back and hug that murderous spider for a little while. Thankfully, it passed.

"Nice try," he said, his voice slightly less confident than it had been before. "Don't even like jelly."

There was an itch on the inside of his arm. The urge to pull up his sleeve and see if there was anything there was strong, but West fought it off, continuing into the depths as quickly as he was able.