Welcome to Gaia! ::

She stretched out shortly after letting go, sliding downwards until the hem of her coat was only inches from the bubbling water. There she remained breathing heavily as her feet and back pressed against the walls of the canyon to keep her from falling in the mire below.

I knew it, Forsooth gloated, You want to live as long as can, you were'nt really planning to cut your life short. Even a shell has a desire to remain uncracked.

Shut up, Red thought, as she fired a chamber of her revolver, which hooked to a sturdy rock above. She proceded to pull herself up out of the canyon and go on her way. She ran, not stopping unti she reached the tower Tak'Dinal, and the enormous evil aura of that very tower almost crippled her as she felt the walls, purpously provoking it to take her. But despite the pain, there was nothing. Then something spoke to them, as if a voice from the wind. She pulled the fragment peice of rotton, leathery, fabric from her pocket as flung it in the air. For the brief moment she touched it the spirals spread up her arm, glowing.

Then it happened, slowly at first, then faster, fragments from all over the Northernlands, indeed from all over Gaia, came blowing in to that very spot, circling, accumulating. Slowly it formed, coming together, the brown threads reforming and acumulating from the scraps and dust that was blowing in. Soon enough, a plain brown robe, appearing to be made of simple flax, fell on the cursed soil.

My Robe, Forsooth thought, dipped in the blood of Ymir saved by the Gods from time immemorial, wear it. It will provide you with the power of Ymir himself. That way we won't have to seek the third immortal, but instead bring an immortal's power to us. Besides, it would be sacrilege to seek Ymir's escape from among the gods. Now wear it!

Red moved slowly, but conceded, taking the robe to her bossom. The marks moved up her body, glowing yellow and red, heated. Then the robe went over her head and on her body. Her hands glowed, her face glowed, her eyes growed a brilliant dark orange as the same glow escaped her mouth. And she passed out in a swirl of pain and darkness.

Forty-eight later she awoke in a pool of her own blood, but still wrapped in the robe. There was a new spiral on her forehead, on the back of her hands, her palms, both cheeks, and a series of small spirals running up her arms. She took her boot off and lifted up her pant leg. There were two spirals on her foot as well a series of spirals running up her legs.

Forsooth had left her in control again, only because she would be better able to navigate out of the Northern lands. She sighed, got up, and got going without complaint. Keeping her hood up. The marks were still absorbing the evil aura, but the pain was all but gone. She was thankful for that much.

Darshendros lounged back in his reclining leather chair, with his feet propped onto his black oak desk, idly watching the images floating around him. They came to him from various parts of Gaia, provided by sentries he'd sent out when first arriving back on this world. He saw what they saw; heard what they heard. Unfortunately, he could only do the latter with one at a time, otherwise his study would be filled with noise and he'd be hard pressed to make any sense out of it all.

His main focus was on the sentry observing Leviathan Stadium, where the finals match was going to take place. The blimp had arrived and the first team was already stepping off. The time was drawing near. He silently commanded the sentry to hold its position and keep an eye on events in the stadium.

He moved his gaze to another floating image. This one showed a massive cavern deep under the earth, and a stone castle surrounded by fiery pits in the backdrop. Hordes of creatures moved about over the cavern floor, shuffling to and fro. Skeletons in suits of armor screeched orders as groups of undead - mostly zombies and skeletons - shuffled into loose formations to await orders. Golems made of stitched flesh, and others made of bones, lurched across the cavern carrying heavy loads, loading them into the backs of large wagons. In one corner of the cavern, vampires in black leather armor were practicing shooting targets with their crossbows, while in another a small detachment of drow soldiers trained with their blades.

Good, Darsh thought to himself. This will be more than enough for the raid, unless the others don't provide any additional numbers.

Corruption. It was the energy that thrived throughout the city and surrounding land. Without the proper protections, a living creature would be affected by the negative energy that permeates everywhere, feeling weak and easily tired. If that wasn't bad enough, every undead creature in the near vicinity that could sense, smell, or otherwise sense living beings, would be alert to the emissary's presence almost immediately. In a city of the dead, living creatures were rare to come upon, so they were quite the wonder.

Fortunately for Thompson, the vampires had passed laws that protected humans and other mortal races. They couldn't be killed, but they could still be captured. However, a presence in the city had been watching the boy's progress through the cursed lands. To have made it all the way to the outskirts of the city was an oustanding feat by itself, which probably meant that the boy had some kind of protections on his person. The only question now was, who was this boy and what was he doing out here?

((*takes a scene from Return to Oz*))

The streets were as quiet as death - literally. The streets were littered with debris and trash, looking as abandoned as it would be regardless of the undead presence. No need for sanitation since the place would be dirty regardless. At the center of the city stood a towering clocktower, the face and half the roof blasted off from some great explosion from long ago.

A slight breeze kicked up a little dust.

Squeek. Squeek. The sound came from behind him, but he would see nothing if he turned to look.

Squeek. Squeek.

The sound was coming from the sides now. This time, if he looked, he would catch a glimpse of a leg, with a wheel for a foot. Giggles and cackles answered his announcement. The sounds were coming from all around him now, except from the direction of the clocktower.

An odd figure suddenly sprang out from an alleyway. It looked humanoid, tall and lanky, but its hands and feet were metal wheels, the source of the squeeking sounds. He wore some sort of leather outfit - a jacket with tubes and other junk hanging from it - and a metal mask over his face. The odd figure looked directly at Thompson, then rolled its head back and let out a high pitched howl.

The wheeled beings suddenly popped up on rooftops and along the sides of the street, at least a dozen or so, staring at Thompson and rolling toward him slowly, squeeking and laughing.

The "Wheelers" (for lack of a better name) didn't respond to his questions. Whether they were incapable of or just not feeling like it was unknown, but they continued to laugh at him insanely. They were but a few feet away from him now when they all suddenly stopped and grew silent. They were looking at something behind Thompson. Whatever it was, it sent them spinning around and wheeling off in all directions, screaming in insane fright.

"It's not wise for mortals to walk into this city alone," rumbled a deep voice from behind Thompson.

A tall, imposing figure stood in the doorway of the clocktower, garbed in black robes. He had pale skin and stark white hair that hung to his shoulders, black pits for eyes that seemed to trickle out black mist at the corners. A pinprick of crimson light burned from within the dark hollows, staring down at the boy.

"That would depend on your definition of authority," came the robed-man's response. "The vampires pass the laws, but only the vampires follow them. The sentient rule over the mindless ones, and it is their word that is law. In a sense, everyone who's a sentient here is authority, unless you'd rather take your chances with the Coven."

"To have made here alone either says someone takes real good care of you, or you've some power inside of you. You should be more careful. Come inside, and tell me of this Voice of the great purge."

The man stepped inside before waiting for Mark's response.