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 Posted: Tue Mar 22, 2011 11:55 pm
They're cominggggg. The little boil sang, dancing through the corn stalks around Calder as he curled inward, kneeling in the tall stalks and trying to be smaller, tinier, less seen by the wolves. Their howling was too loud, too close, and he knew they would come after him soon. He could smell them. Hear them. Somewhere, faintly, he heard voices, but he didn't know who they were.
he clutched his knapsack to his chest as he curled in. All alone. All alone. He'd die all alone without ever having a best friend. There was so much he had wanted to do still. He hadn't had that epic romance he always wished for or learned to shift into his other form. He never did make his parents proud or learn his Fear as well as his parents did. He still hadn't done all the things kids his age, who were used to living with other kids, got to do. Playing games he had only seen from a distance or heard about, or going to more dances. He had only ever been to one. So much left undone.
The howling increased, and he gripped his ears down, dropping his bag. "Go away. Go away. GO AWAY!"
He wasn't going to die. He wouldn't let them eat him alive. He wasn't meant to be turned into kibble.
Reaching in, he frantically opened his pack and pulled out the heavy book. Throwing his pack over his back again, he held the book. He'd hit them. He'd fight them all, and when they wanted to tear into his neck, he'd do the same. He'd kick them and buck them off. He couldn't shift, but he wasn't about to die on his back. He'd die like a stallion!
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Toshihiko Two rolled 3 6-sided dice:
2, 1, 2
Total: 5 (3-18)
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Posted: Wed Mar 23, 2011 12:01 am
They were alone. Further in the corn, closer to the edge, Barth didn't know. Where were the paths between the rows? Occasionally he warned Christof to stay away from the couches. But Christof's grip on him was firm, and through the sweltering heat and towering smoke they somehow had still not been caught in the fires.
Then they stopped. Before Christof could let go of his arm, he heard it, very clearly, like a snap of lightening.
Belzgaphor.
He disappeared, like the cornfield, in a puff of smoke.
And the air was clear again. No fog, no smoke. His backpack was missing, but those things wouldn't have been summoned anyway. He did have his first aid kit, soaked in his own familiar Fear. It, like him, had been Called.
He turned, gloomily, to see himself in a hall mirror. His face was covered in soot, the kit dripping like a rabid dog. He smelled like fire. In the clean and familiar foyeur, the walls stuffed with paintings of torture scenes (there was hardly any room between them) and the floor with opulent statues of humans, their faces twisted in agony, there was still, somehow, lots of space.
His dad liked to have lots of everything.
"Sir," he said, trying to be polite but barely able to force out the words. He had been whisked away so suddenly and easily. It was not in his nature to turn down convenience. He, alone, had been saved. And elsewhere, his friends, who did not have True Names, would be burned alive, and Monsters and Undead, who put all their stock in their brains and hearts, would have their insides choked and then boiled and the hot fires would take even the bones...
"I thought I'd had it," Barth said, almost laughing.
And then his father's voice, down the hall. "I'm so hungry."
"...Sir?" Barth asked, any relief he might have felt completely disappearing.
"I never could stop at just one. But we all have our sins."
Aside from he and his father, the house was very quiet. No servants, no guests. None of his father's many wives, or his many siblings. Barth began to slink away from the voice, towards the door. He was not fast, and every step took too long, too long, too agonizingly long.
"And I'm still so very hungry."
Barth rattled the handle, making more noise than he meant to. The doors were overstated, intricately carved, and he knew the scenes there, of bodies and bodies and bodies being fed to a demon that ate them forever, while the guardian dog slept nearby, full of honeycakes.
"Rohpagzleb," Barth swore under his breath. "Rohpagzleb! RohpagzlebRohpagzlebRohpagzlebrohpagzlebrohpagzleb-"
And with another dizzying crack, he was back at the cornfield. His things (the backpack, the map pieces) were scattered nearby. Christof was nowhere to be seen. The black smoke was everywhere. But better to contend against kerosene than to face down that clean foyeur. Why couldn't it have been his Mom? But it was important to gather the papers, before the fire got to them. How else would he open the Door.
A pipe slammed into the side of Barth's head.
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Posted: Wed Mar 23, 2011 12:21 am
Vaith had never expected it-- saved by the ghoul he accused. It was sort of a cold slap in the face.. Well, he had honestly thought that little girls were dangerous. Especially. But apparently, he was proved completely wrong.
He didn't mind her holding on to him. In fact, his hand was clutching her wrist rather tightly, trembling, although a confident frown masked his features. Corn husk was scattered all over his outfit, some falling to the ground as he tried to stand up, gently pulling her upwards.
"We got to a bad start. I'm Vaith. Thanks for keeping me from becoming a rug. You've got my eternal gratitude." Vaith rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. This was awkward. Talk about awkward times--
"What, you cant treat a girl right?"
"Need someone to hold your hand throughout the steps? Not looking cool, you useless reaper. You dont even have a proper weapon--
Vaith's other hand turned to slap at the source of the voice.. next to him. but his hand hit nothing. But the voices only came closer, like a whisper across his ears.
There must have been something wrong in the food and drinks they had on the boat sad
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Posted: Wed Mar 23, 2011 12:22 am
Barth felt the reverberation up the length of the horn, and crumbled easily to the side, knocked over, but otherwise unhurt. He lay there for a good while, then he opened one eye, and felt his horns, being tender with them.
"What err, what...?" It was hard to see Christof well, but on the ground there was less smoke, and he thought, for a moment, that Christof's eyes might be...might belong to something else.
"What was that about?" he finished lamely.
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Posted: Wed Mar 23, 2011 12:25 am
The hunchback's expression screwed up into a look of frustrated anxiety. Of course the Sloth wouldn't make this easy. He didn't WANT to do this! He didn't or he wouldn't have missed! But his Mistress had said and it wasn't REALLY Barth, no- but it sounded more like Barth now than when gibbering about fire that wasn't there... he knew where the fire was. It was swallowed in the throat of the creature still lurking in the corn stalks around them. Waiting... waiting... it had to eat one of them. Christof gave an anxious whine in his throat, hefting the fear-sharpened pipe up before screwing his eyes shut as he swung another blow-
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Posted: Wed Mar 23, 2011 12:33 am
-Which buried deep into the first aid kit Barth was holding in front of his face.
"Now- now- err, wait a minute," Barth said, scooting ever so slowly backwards. "I don't err, I don't think our situation is- is quite all that hopeless. I err, understand the intention. I think. I am not particularly fond of fire either. But I have never been a fan of mercy andpleaseputdownthepipe."
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Posted: Wed Mar 23, 2011 12:41 am
Christof's eyes welled up, nostrils flairing as the corners of his mouth twitched in disgust. What did HE know about FIRE? A demon didn't combust like an undead, and how did he even know about the dragon lurking in the shadows? Had he seen it? He gave an anxious, whimpering grunt, trying to wrench the pipe free from the gook oozing from the kit. No... no... no, Master- he... he was sorry, so sorry-
What are you waiting for? You have it where you want it. Please your Mistress. Red glowing eyes peered from over Barth's shoulder, eyes half moons in her inviting, misleading smile, a sharp violet finger stroking the side of the Sloth's face.
"Hrnnnnnnnn....!" Christof whined, his pipe suddenly popping free with a squelch, whirling around with pent up innertia.
Barth was a friend.
This was not who he thought it was.
It was a creature of the corn, to confuse him. Barth's eyes did not glow that brightly...
He was mocking him. He said it himself, he wasn't a fan of mercy- SHOW no mercy! He could hear her delighted cackle making every hair on his curved back stand on end.
madness in the fog... the last came as the tiniest thought in the back of his head, enough for the blow to miss the Sloth by a hair, just grazing his arm as it slammed into the soft earth below them.
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Posted: Wed Mar 23, 2011 12:50 am
In that moment, with Christof missing so wholeheartedly, it would have been easy enough to provide five claws for him to fall into.
Barth didn't.
Instead, his father's voice fresh in his ears, he only said, "Put down the pipe."
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Posted: Wed Mar 23, 2011 1:02 am
If this had been home in halloween, Christof's shoulder would suddenly have felt like it had been stabbed with a hot branding iron. It would have immobilized his arm immediately, given him no choice to do anything but obey. There was security for a live-wire of an Igor in demon marks.
In the corn field, with only the soft trickle of fear that emanated from their mutating so-called weapons, the mark on the hunchback's right arm mearly glowed, ligthing up the fog for a moment as an itching like a rash spread under his skin. The hunchback's eyes widened. There was security in Marks for a reason. He dropped the pipe of his own accord before, trembling, he dropped to his knees.
No Hitting, his Mistress had said.
No Hitting. She had made it very clear.
Then why had there been such a sudden change?
The Fog oh Fear Alive the fog it was the fog he was so sorry so so sorry- he slumped forward, grabbing Barth by the shoulders in a sudden, frantic need to make sure that yes, it was definitely him and if it was definitely him, if he'd make the bringer of fire lurking behind him, still, breathing down his back in hot gusts go away.
He didn't want to hurt him. He didn't- but he almost... he had heard the commands and he had almost...
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Posted: Wed Mar 23, 2011 1:03 am
"Oh-t-thank you! I-I mean its fine. I...ah, don't trust myself a lot of the time, either, so it's nothing new!" From the look on her face, she found this rather cheering. "W-we really aren't far now! It's getting close, you just have to hold on no matter what, o-okay?" She flushed a bit, "Calder...he let go, not-that-I-blame-him, but he's going in the right direction...so..."
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Posted: Wed Mar 23, 2011 1:51 am
"Hold on? Would that be in a literal sense, as in me holding your hand or not to let go to whatever drug was slipped in our foods?" Vaith asked, one hand raising to try and rub the headache that formed between his eyes.
I'm not a small headache that'll go away so easily. You know better.
Ike didn't know better.
Why don't you just take me out--like a reaper should?
Your voice is coming from behind Emily. You really thought I would?
Yeah.
Ike continued to try and pretend that voice wasn't there. "What, you're not affected, Missy?" Vaith asked in surprise, the realization giving him a very brief, temporary moment of clarity without voices ringing inside of his head.
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Posted: Wed Mar 23, 2011 2:08 am
Her answer was a firm tug on the other reaper's hand, "Drugs...P-please just don't let go, it can be...p-painful otherwise." She considered his next question for longer, "Affected? I...I'm not sure anymore...it's different now...but, um...it's not drugs! R-really! It's just...the fog it...it reflects things."
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Posted: Wed Mar 23, 2011 1:59 pm
Tybalt rolled his eyes at the obvious but kept up his running pace. "Thank you, Isra--Israfer? Israfe... Whatever! I know that! But Calder is here. I was just with him." Honestly, he was sure at the moment Clader couldn't give a damn about his kilt. They had bigger things to worry about than clothi--- "WOULD YOU QUIT TALKING TO THAT SCARECROW AND GET YOU BUTT MOVING!?" The hell was he doing!? Did he really think he was going to get a reply? And if he did, the black dog would only question his sanity.
Jack damn... He was going to get another headache from this...
:Maybe you should just rip his throat out? It would surely silence him... Problem solved~:
"What..?" Tybalt froze in spot. The voice was oddly familiar... But no. He couldn't be here... He hadn't seen him in four years and there was no reason for him to show his face now.
"Ahh... shut up! Your just one of those--"
:Voices?: Answered the voice; a hint of amusement in it's tone. Only it was no longer just a voice. It was staring him straight in the face; smiling sweetly like he always did.
Bastian.
:How cruel of you, Tybalt... and after I came all this way to see my little brother..." He sounded sad, but Tybalt knew better. His brother didn't feel sorrow.
"Hah! You? Not likely!" He made a rude noise, before taking off again. He didn't have time for this! He had to go with the others and find Calder and Emily! He knew that... so why couldn't he stop shaking? It was an illusion! It had to be be! But seeing that face after so long... A face it took so long to forget... It startled him... But there was no way he was real! He couldn't be! He was just an illusion! Just an illusion!
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Posted: Wed Mar 23, 2011 4:38 pm
The fog reflected things? What the hell did that mean? Even if she explained, Vaith wasn't sure he could make complete sense of it. Following her tug on his hand, Vaith tipped his head, to motion her forward.
"I won't let go."
Those words had a heavy weight to them, like a chain pinning the reaper down. How far did the chain go? Vaith didn't know. For now, this pair was stuck with each other.
Did she always have orange eyes? Vaith couldnt remember.
She's lying. She's making the fog-- driving you guys to oblivion.
C'mon, the little Missy? By now, Vaith would have deemed it impossible.
You've seen it. It's always the little ones that you never suspect.
But those were movies. Not real life.
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Posted: Wed Mar 23, 2011 4:48 pm
She led Vaith deeper into the fog, which steadily grew thicker and thicker. Eventually the only thing letting him know she was still there at all, was the small hand holding his own.
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