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Calder had gone far. While injured and not genius smart, he managed to wind up with his friends in the end. Through the fog that nearly tore him apart and thinking he was alone, he had stuck close to his friends upon rediscovering them and feeling stronger with them than ever. When the code was used and portal charged, they had walked through with the highest hope that they were saved, had suffered the worst, and in the end, deserved a much needed break. They had been tested, and they had passed.

Or so it had been felt.

The harsh reality was that the game wasn’t over, and stepping into the darkness, they had only the smallest second to prepare themselves before it was too late. Screams and the sound of slashing metal whizzed by and Calder, already bruised, bleeding, and running low on energy, turned in time to see where his friends were and if they could dash out of the way.

But it was far too late for him.

At first, he hadn’t even though he was hurt, but then he felt horrible, searing pain. Over the sound of metal and other screams of every creature in Halloweentown, all young, all torn in disbelief that this was the end, the sound of a high horse cry wailed above, echoing down the chamber.

He stepped forward, and felt the seams of where he was cut. Like a tipped over tower, he fell down, and separated in segmented chunks, toppling to the ground. For a undead, falling to pieces wasn’t anything new, but Calder was a live monster. He had never lost a limb or so much as broken a finger. When he fell, surrounded by the dark and watching as shapes moved, even tripped and stomped over him in their haste to escape, he let out a pained cry, much smaller, much quieter than before.

It was because he saw Christof beside him. He’d seen him before, in pieces, and thought that maybe, just maybe, he could pick himself together and make it. But Malodore and no one else was here to sew the boil together again and certainly now when the dark blades were flying about. Head unattached, it tilted as if the young boil was just resting his cheek on the ground in a thoughtful way. Heart hammering somewhere, he looked out across to his fallen friend and smiled sadly, fear and other matter leaking from his clear cut wounds before he started to disintegrated. Dark partials rose and vanished like ashes. “Bye……friend.”

And with those last two words, the kelpie vanished on the spot, leaving nothing of the unfortunate student who tried his best and lost.

(( HP: 16 ))

The first thing to strike Carthusia was how damned dark it was. It was black as pitch, but one thing struck her in the face so fiercely that she nearly fell to her knees - metal. It was a thick, pungent smell, and as soon as Carry found a wall to lean on, she felt how slick and wet it was. Lifting a hand to her nose, she head two familiar voices calling out, screaming for them to move. They had to move. But what was on the walls? Carry was sluggish as first, jumping in every direction like a frightened cat when she heard the unmistakeable sound of unsheathed metal. Oh god.

The smell was now identified in her mind as well as her nose. This wasn't salty air, no. This wasn't water on the walls. This was supposed to be a cove, right? It was, she was sure it was but water did not cover the walls. No, to Pride's horror...

...it was blood.

Belladonna had been right in front of her. Nothing fired in her brain except pure demonic instinct. Survive. You have to RUN. Those figures, yes, they knew what they were doing. This corridor was so tiny and there was so much bloodshed, horror and death. She couldn't stay here, no. Belladonna was just up ahead. Without thinking, Pride grabbed hold of the witch by her waist and dragged her, running as fast as her exhausted legs would carry her. Pride saw them fall, or saw their remains, one by one. Riley, Malodore...oh god CALDER. Tears streamed down the demoness' face as she let loose a scream. It was a scream for all that had fallen and all that had yet to fall - it was for meetings she'd never had with them, for classes they'd never attended together. It was for time spent and lost, for time never gained in the first place. It was for students she'd never been able to hug or laugh with or share stories with, for students she'd known forever and never known.

Was this all her fault? Her brain didn't allow her to process anything aside from RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN, and run she did. FEAR pounded her in the face as she ducked and weaved through blade after blade, through fallen students' remains as they fell before and behind her. Jack, how many would make it out of this death march? Where were the faculty? Would she see everyone again? Would she see anyone again? The redhead no doubt was in pain too. A choke escaped Carry as her eyes refused to look back. She couldn't look back, no, it would be too much.

"Bella? We'll be okay. We'll be okay. Just... j-j-just run. Keep running. We have to keep running!"

One more step with the portal and onto the other ********> Tomoko immediately recoiled on the other side of the portal, grabbing for Junko's hand and making a yelping noise in surprise of what waited on the other side, her tails creeping between her legs. Oh man, oh man, oh man.

"nothing...gonna break my stride, nobody's gonna slow me down...I got to keep moving..." Tomoko mumbled to herself, puffing her chest out to put on her best brave face (which had been learned from Jove), while she walked along, pausing now and then to look to other students, pondering if she'd be wise to grab onto another person to keep them moving along as well.

Tomoko couldn't be slow in this area. She had a feeling. Something akin to having walked in to a horrible Indiana Jones finale. Well, almost-finale. Until they made more. With Aliens. Alkfas;dfhadkfjasdf. Either way, Tomoko did her best to keep her hyperventilating to a minimum.

Keep walking, keep walking....

When Petro stepped through the portal, he thought he had prepared himself for the worst. In some way, perhaps he had. While his new surroundings were cramped and dark, it was nothing more than a minor inconvenience. Elbows were digging into his sides, someone's hair would whip into his face, limbs and hands and the blunt edges of weapons dug and shoved and jostled. It almost reminded him of home during pistahan.

Almost.

Because something was severely wrong. He didn't know why and couldn't tell you if you asked, but he threw himself back, uncaring of anyone he might have hit or rammed against. His muscles were reacting faster than his brain could process the orders from Famine and Conquest. Or the situation the unfolded before him.

Death. Pain. Agony.

Blood sprayed, bones broke, flesh was torn, bodies were halved, screams were silenced as abruptly as they began. Students were reduced to pieces of meat, chunks of skin, scattered organs. And Petro hadn't been able to do anything to save them. Riley, Malodore, Jericho, Mac. A wave of anger and hate crashed over Petro, so pure in its intensity it nearly brought the tikbalang to his knees.

Nearly.

Somehow, hearing Aksaja, Petro managed to keep his footing as he himself let loose a howl in honor of his fallen comrades, "VOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!"

Whether or not he managed to properly mimic the red dragon's roar was unimportant. Petro pushed on after Famine and Conquest, fresh tears streaming down his cheeks, his face red and set in a grimace. He had to keep going, had to find whoever was responsible for all this. The blood-debt had gotten to big.

It was time to collect and collect Petro will. Or die trying.

((SO AFRAID))

Sin's pendant hung from a long silver chain right above her waist, she frowned down at it and then looked at Famine. "What?" Wasn't this thing supposed to be protection? Now she was being told to use it to find somekind of key? Fine...whatever, she held it in her hands and tried to push fear into it...but she was tired. Slowly the pendant began to glow, at first very faint, but then stronger and stronger. Sin was feeling a bit woozy but she could feel a fair thrumming. She tried to follow it, tried looking around and holding up the pendant to locate the key. If it was the key to get out she would be VERY happy...if not...well she had gotten used to being disappointed during this trip.

The sights that greeted the siren were not good ones. They were the things of his nightmares. Dreams of death made real. Riley, Malodore, Jeicho, Calder, gone. His protectors, his idols, his mentors, his friends. Gone, killed. Their FEAR slipping away as they fell to the blades. Christof, the patchwork who he'd watched, fascinated with his smarts in attempts at solving a puzzle. Cut clean. fading. They were all fading. DEAD.

Screeching, The Siren ran, desprate to escape this place. This place of terror and death.


((HP: 20))