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 Posted: Sun Jan 01, 2012 4:30 pm
Okay now Titus wanted to laugh. The poor scareling really thought this was real. "Sure buddy, Hunters are real and so are invisible dogs." But...invisible dogs were real. Or where they? Titus was never really sure he was certain they were just hexed collars floating about. Nothing much would change his mind on that fact.
The wailing in the distance made him turn his head, a smile forming on his face once again. "Why don't we go check that out, hmm?" It was more to spur the zombie back into the dream, keep the fear going. This interruption wouldn't slow him down.
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Posted: Mon Jan 02, 2012 9:27 pm
Maybe it was the fact that he had denied the Hunters' existence, a newly made sore spot after how far the Boogiemen went to silence them. Maybe it was the statement of invisible dogs being fakes, which he was certain was stupid and false because Mama totally had one of those, and so did some of her friends.
Or maybe, and most likely, it was because of Titus's encouragement to continue the dream as it normally did, that the following happened.
You see, the nightmare demon was not aware that the events being played out in this dream were accurate enough to depict the scene of Mortimer's interrogation. And though their conversation was not the usual one that occurred, it had was about the right length to match the other Mort had had before some action happened. The dream always had this slight deviation just before it.
First, the zombie would tug at his chains. Once, twice, fighting, scowling at the Huntress - or the demon, in this case. Dramatic flare? The zomboil had definitely not been chained in the actual events, but then again, dreams and nightmares alike had their own version of events depending on the host's mind or state of being, logical or no. The Hunter ghoul, while not physically there, taunted him with her voice nonetheless right about where Titus was (since he had assumed her position in the dream).
And then suddenly, with a angry growl, the chains broke as Mortimer finally freed himself and aimed that fateful punch at the ghoul's (or boil's in this case) face.
Now, here's the thing: when a person is asleep, usually the brain sends signals to the body to not move during REM sleep, where dreams usually happen. Mort's brain, however, was ill-equipped already with its constant generation of electricity, and certain parts didn't function well: see his odd speech pattern, which hiccuped because though he thought in complete sentences, it didn't always translate correctly from brain to mouth. What the boil didn't know was that he often moved on the few occasions that he slept, and that when he did strong actions, well . . . it paralleled in real life.
Case in point: he was actually about to punch something physically.
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Posted: Tue Jan 03, 2012 2:19 pm
It seemed that Mort was going to fight it, or so Titus thought. The demon merely sighed as the zombie began to thrash in his seat wondering when this little tantrum was going to end. If there was one thing that was true, fighting a nightmare was hard. Some managed to do it, most only managed to push it back and in doing so the nightmare grew stronger in the back of the mind before springing back at full force.
Titus almost expected the scene to change or something to happen. Perhaps more of these Hunters would show up. That would bring around a little more fun. Instead, Mort managed to break free of his bindings and aimed a fairly well placed punch to Titus' face. The demon's head fell back with the force, stumbling back a few paces before he tried to gather himself. That had...actually hurt. There was always a sense of pain when being attacked in dreamspace but this seemed....real somehow.
Neck cracking as he straightened himself back out, Titus rotated his head for a moment before bringing up a hand to touch the small bit of blood running from his nose. He stared at the blood for a moment realized that he was probably bleeding in real time...which meant the little b*****d had hit him. It was possible that for a short moment it appeared like Titus would get mad. He stared with such focus on the blood like one would expect him to suddenly snap with rage. Instead he started to chuckle. Something soft at first that quickly rose in volume. Had he gone mad?
With a flick of his wrist the blood splattered against the ground, much more than had actually been on his hand. In fact, his hand was now dripping with the substance and as soon as the blood hit a surface of something it burst into flame making tiny pools of fire throughout the room. "You'll regret doing that, Scraps."
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Posted: Wed Jan 04, 2012 9:52 pm
Oh . . . Oh sweet Sally, the matches got worse. Despite the curled fist and the aggressive posture, it was clear on the zomboil's face that the demon's intended result was coming quite alive.
Always with the fire! It wasn't blue fire, but color didn't matter to an undead. If it lit up, gave off heat, and was reddish . . .
He could feel the sensation of his skin beginning to sag as the temperature rose, though the smell was not created to match. His dreams didn't usually include scents: mostly they were sights, sounds, touches. And sldfkdnslfknlsdf fire.
Mort was trapped, and there was no definitive way out anymore; the demon was in the way of the door that now seemed so far away. The lead-heavy sensation came back in his legs, and suddenly it was hard for him to talk, like the smoke was affecting his breathing - in and of itself another dream addition, for the undead didn't need to normally. "Nuh . . . N-Nuh . . ." He coughed and backed away into the metal chair whose coolness was quickly making way for burning heat; he recoiled with a wince, feeling more and more sluggish - more and more panicked.
All he could do was wait for it to end, hopefully before he burned alive. His fake heart pumped a thousand miles a minute, tense as he stared in horror at the dream-intruder.
Horror . . . and yes, anger. Anger was starting to become a favorite emotion.
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Posted: Thu Jan 05, 2012 2:12 pm
Titus thought about laughing. Actually no, he decided to follow through with that action seeing the boil's reaction. A good eerie laugh that seemed to touch every corner of the room and echo back. "What's the matter, Maggot Brain?" Titus called to the scared zombie, his wings flaring wide as the fear fed them. Blood continued to drip from his hand but not all of it turned to fire. No some of it coursed away from him across the floor and up the walls painting the room in red. "Gonna run as usual? It's not a surprise. I can see the word Coward written across your face." Titus continued to taunt.
As Titus drew closer his gloved hand started to tighten and release in anticipation. He was mere steps away when his blood soaked hand burst into flames. "Maybe I should leave you here with them. No way out." As he said that the door behind him vanished. Now there really was no route of escape. "Your hunters can take you apart bit by bit and maybe try to put you together again like a puzzle. That sound fun?" He would leave it up to Mort's mind if he decided to create the hunters on his own though the one was still in the room, standing by as if waiting.
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Posted: Fri Jan 06, 2012 7:20 pm
They stood quite alone in spite of the continual mention of Hunters, for the more this intruder spoke, the more anger became a very nice feeling; and the sight of blood certainly helped. What was the term he heard? "Bloodlust". Mort was no vampire, but he was more and more starting to see red.
Was it because of the threats? The name-calling? Yes, it seemed "coward" had touched a nerve. He was tired of running, tired of hiding behind others, tired of always feeling like he had to prove himself to be useful - Christmastival had cemented that.
Also, he was quite tired of having fire thrown in his face. Quite tired.
Ever sure that he was probably going to die now thanks to the demon's fire, Mortimer decided to live up to the stupid hero mentality and try to take his opponent down with him. Sure, he was probably immune to the fire (how else was he conjuring it?), but the point of the matter was action. He did not want to be remembered as the zombie who died on his knees . . . or caught in that Jack-damned metal chair.
And thus Mortimer lunged with a fierce moan-growl, hands outstretched and ready to try and choke the boil with some old fashioned Death Grip - it would be fitting, dying while making sure the enemy was in his clutches and losing breath.
Unfortunately, once again the physical disrupted the dream - apparently Mortimer indeed had launched himself! Or rather, had somehow turned away from the wall and fell forward towards the demon, arms twitching upwards in a sluggish manner to follow his dream self.
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Posted: Mon Jan 09, 2012 4:50 pm
The anger that Mort displayed made Titus laugh. A good hearty laugh that shook his person down to the core. It seemed he had managed to stir the pot and as if to make matters worse he suddenly vanished. In the blink of an eye his dream self was swallowed by the flames and disappeared leaving the zombie in nothing but a fire filled room.
His eyes snapping open back on the plane of reality, Titus grinned seeing the zombie moving toward him. He could feel the blood running down his face from the punch from earlier so it was of no surprise the zombie was moving toward him again at a sluggish pace. Wiping at his nose, Titus took a step back before ducking down and sweeping his leg to take Mort's feet out from under him.
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Posted: Mon Jan 09, 2012 5:48 pm
Surprise surprise, the leg-sweeping worked - Mort's reflexes were still sluggish, contrary to the jerking motions most did when rudely awakened; probably because his body was still not used to actually shutting down for lengthy periods of time.
Whump!
Bony rump upon cold floor wasn't the greatest sensation to fully be awakened by. Neither was the sudden 180 from SWEETSALLYFIREEVERYWHERE to . . . none.
The only sight for sore eyes, ironically? His target from the dream.
Typically one might ask how or why someone would do what this demon did, but frankly Mortimer didn't care at the moment. He trembled on the ground with anger but new that he probably couldn't try something fast enough from his current position.
Well except spitting. Spitting sounded tempting, but those boots were a little too close to his face for liking. "What you want?" he growled, looking up at the demon. "Think is f-f-funny peaking n' dreams?"
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Posted: Tue Jan 10, 2012 5:21 pm
Titus stepped back as the zombie took a tumble, looming over the boil while placing his hands in his pockets. That toothy grin wormed its way across his lips once more, currently ignoring the throbbing pain of his nose. Seemed his little zombie friend was angry, that was all well and good with Titus.
"Actually, I do." Titus said lowly, crouching slightly to get a better look at the zombie. "You're a perfect way to pass the time." It seemed that even outside of a dream state Titus' coat and wings continued to shift and change, falling apart and reforming.
"You were rather entertaining to play with," Titus continued, standing up shortly after he had crouched. "Maybe we'll do this again sometime." The way he said it was as if they had just shared a simple cup of tea and a calm conversation. Not at all like he had just clawed his way into a dream and made of mess of things.
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Posted: Wed Jan 11, 2012 11:44 am
At that moment, Mort had a minor nerd moment and wished to the deepest pits of hell that he had learned how to shoot electricity out of his eyes. Or laser beams. Laser beams would've been cooler. There was nothing witty he could think of as he got back up to say beyond, "Next time face t-to face fight." This coming from a guy who rather sucked at battles, as past experience had noted.
Anger was a funny emotion in that it could cloud even the best of judgments. And invading privacy nailed the coffin of his conviction. This guy was going to go down somehow.
"N-Next time . . . Rudolph."
Why yes, he did just compare the demon's bloody nose to a certain infamous reigndeer.
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Posted: Wed Jan 11, 2012 2:00 pm
"Fight, eh?" That was an amusing sentiment. Too bad it was nothing new. It was how Titus seemed to socialize on a daily basis. The nickname, however, made his grin pull even wider, cruelty speaking out from every corner of his features. His expression alone promised some sort of pay back for the bloody nose but the nickname didn't seem to bother him like it should. Perhaps it was because his other nickname that already seemed to be spreading was Tits.
"As you wish, Maggot Brain. Next time we meet we'll dance." Titus agreed. "Be sure to put your purse down next time and use both hands." Acting like his nose didn't hurt like a b***h at that moment? Oh hell yeah he was. If anything Titus was good at hiding the pain he felt and the testament was in this moment.
Playing it up Titus gave a casual wave to the zombie before he stepped back and around the corner. As soon as he was out of sight though he clenched his nose tightly, his eyes twitching a bit from the pain. Damn could the kid hit.
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Posted: Wed Jan 11, 2012 2:14 pm
How did this guy know he had a man-purse? THAT WAS SECRET.
Dance? Pssh. Mort was determined that he'd not simply dance, but Dance Dance Deadolution all over this smug creep. But by the time he actually thought of said retort, the demon had turned the corner and gone.
Sigh. One day he'd be quicker on the draw. One day.
For now, he needed to find a softer area to sit himself down. And perhaps call on a friend for some, ah, physical education.
Only not like that.
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