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Finally back enough to be aware of herself again, the visions fading from her sight, the ghoul still felt as though everything were spinning. That had been too real, too close, and she still hadn't escaped.

Finally she decided that standing was not the best option, and managed to push herself back several steps while staying on the ground. As she managed to get further from the room at the end, the effects faded, the sound in her ears growing softer, although her breathing didn't steady. Finally she trusted her feet again, and she managed to rise, and turn, and stumble away. She couldn't even run, although gods knew she wanted to. She didn't even notice anything else until she reached the surface, and the more natural light was around her. She looked around, seeing no one, partially glad and partially wishing... She didn't want to return to the dorms, not right now. She needed to find somewhere quiet, to curl up and try not to lose the contents of her stomach.

Finally she left the base of the observation point, her steps erratic, unsure at all how to process what had just happened to her.

((3 horsemen points get))

Calder was, if anything, interested and curious about what was considered forbidden. Despite lessons not yet learned about strange places meaning trouble, the fact that they were in horsemen territory brought with it a sense that whatever was here was something the horsemen already knew about. That in mind, everything else feel into being a test, and despite how sore and bruised his body already was, he knew he had little time to make the most of his visit considering how rare it was. "I think that if this is a test and we do well, that we might impress the horsemen. I don't get the sense they are really blown away with us, and it's not fair. We're great students. Sure, we didn't trains since we were wee lads and laddies, but that shouldnt' be held against us." He rambled, talking to Amrita as they walked down a set of stone steps. The warm of the cave was being taken away to a chill air, and he could sense that wherever they were going, it was very far down.

"This is all a challenge after all." He continued, looking up in awe at the paintings on the wall. "Wow. It's like the old tales of their clan. I wonder if they have a storyteller. It would be nice to hear of the old times here. I bet it sounds lovely." He loved listening to the storytellers talk of the kelpie origins back home.

"See? Why would a place that shows off their history be bad?" He let his hands touch the walls, his eyes wide and trying to see as much as he could.

"It must be nice to be in a place spanning generations of battles, though I wonder how much fun they have. You hear their kids train. I wonder if they have the scarlings going at it when they are able?" He smiled at Amrita and nudged her. "One has to hope they at least drink." He snickered, and continued down, but his smile started to drop, and his ears turned back as he slowed his pacing, bringing himself slightly in front of Amrita in a defensive mood.

"It is rather odd here. The air feels...." His breath was short, and he felt as if he was entering a blast of energy pulsing around him before they entered a landing overlooking an alcove. ".....powerful."

"Amrita.....do you see..." There were strange symbols glowing far off, and his large eyes reflected their light, staring transfixed while his body felt crushed under the pressure. The buzzing in his ear grew intense, and he covered them, pressing his palms down against them yet the sound pressed through, shaking his bones and making his heart race faster. Clenching his teeth, he felt his legs buckle under the force, and he started to curl in, lowering to the ground. Bad idea. While he wanted to only look at the shimmering lights, his mind screamed to run away.

"Amri...." He didn't even know if he was calling out to her as he tried to call over the buzzing in his ear. As he searched around for her, his vision blurred, focusing and unfocusing, and creating shadows and ghost images. He didn't tear his hands from his ears, despite what little use they were doing, but he was sure his head would explode if he removed them. Ashe tired to find the undead ghoul that had just been beside him, his vision pathetic at best, he saw the shimmering lights of the runes flicker and morph against the shadows of the nearby walls, and a progression of horsemen moved by, dragging cages as bloodied hands crawled out, waving for help. The bloodied fingers, some dried with blood, made his heart jump as he thought of Amrita's fingertips.

They had Amrita!

"Amrtia!" He called, but again his voice felt as if it wasn't there, and he stumbled over to the cages to try and free her - only to have them vanish when he drew near.

And as the high pitched whinning in his ear reached a peak, it went quiet. The swimming sickness, the turning and jostling of his insides, the twisting in his chest, and shortness of his breath, and burning of his eyes and the shaking of his bones all reached a peak, and then all was quiet. Like entering the eye of a great storm, he opened his eyes, and everything felt fine. Maybe he was finally acclimated to the new Fear, and he felt that must be the case.

It felt welcoming now, and whatever painful warning it was giving off had turned to a strange sort of acceptance of him. Of what he was, and what he hoped to be. I've wanted to protect, so why not protect everyone this way? I can serve a greater purpose as part of a whole than what I could ever complete on my own. I can do great things here. Be bigger than myself. His eyes fluttered as the lights blurred and dances, feeling like warm flickering flames that called him, and he felt his body try and crawl. If he could make it to the edge, he could simple fall down into that light.

A hard gasp escaped him as he started to cough, noticing he was on his back and he turned to his side as the waves came back. "Amrita?" He called out, looking around the shadows until he spotted the small bundle of clothes and limbs further off.

Crawling, he moved closer, his eyes shimmering white and misting as he drew near him. "Are you okay?!!!" He called out, reaching out and shaking her as he tried to scream over the pain and noise. It was hard even to talk, his voice felt short and his ears felt as if they were bleeding. His slender fingers shook her shoulder. "AMRITA!!!" Could she even hear him or was he even speaking?

There was a sort of calling; it was a scent that couldn’t be ignored, a sound that had to be heard or a vision that had to be seen. It tugged the ghost at the very core; it was pulling his very essence. It bothered the ghost, but only a little. There was nothing dark or ominous, nor was it really holy or welcoming, it was something more primal. It couldn’t be ignored.

The slimer moved carefully through the bushes, and notices that there was a track of some sort, telltale signs that others have been through it recently. He pushed on, and found a door, nearly untraceable from the rest of the ancient tree, its bark lining up perfectly. There were a few steps visible, but the rest was darkness. He moved through what could have been a wide expanse since even his glow wasn’t showing any signs of a ceiling or how far the walls were, but the few small steps before him. As cautious as he was, he couldn’t turn and leave. He had to look.

The Fear was strong. The Fear was nearly palpable and it almost had a taste. The Fear got thicker as he continued down the single path. The slimer felt the chill as he continued. It was sudden; it was like a cold knife cutting through his flesh. But the slimer wasn’t bothered by the temperature, just by the amount of Fear in his presence.

The Fear was drowning him. It was pushing against his lungs, making it feel like it was harder for him to even breathe. It was unusual since this slimer didn’t even need to breath or required lungs to function. It made him stop. He leaned against the walls to rest and recover from the amount of Fear pushing against him- maybe because he was a ghost that he was susceptible and Fear-sensitive.

He was so busy with minding the Fear that he nearly missed what he was leaning on. The ghost took a few steps back and saw the mural. He saw the winged War clan in primitive drawings. They were going to War as expected, but they were waging war at what seemed to be another world, one foreign, yet somewhat familiar to the ghost. It was hellish.

He followed the mural downwards and deeper into the cave. He felt that he was getting a little weaker, but he had to see what happened at the end of the drawings. He had an appreciation of art, but it was more important what this clan wanted. But he never got to see it.

There was a large shriek that emanated from the alcove that he had reached. It sent him down to his knees, and with his hands covering his ears. It left a ringing, which was eventually drowned out by a hum. It pulsated. On his knees, and he found that he was surrounded by glowing glyphs scattered around the walls.

“No,” he whispered as his hands caught sight of his dissipating hands.
He was being drawn literally into the bottom. He felt his very essence, all that he could be dissipating. He felt his slime form losing hold, and it was visibility noticeable as his hands begin to bend in unnatural ways. It was getting soft. His skin was melting.

“I’m not going to let it end like this,” he growled as he clenched his fists, and gathered all that he could.

“Silly glyphs.” The ghost screamed as he looked down into the alcove. “The first thing I learned as a slimer was to keep myself together!”

The ghost was glowing, the wispy light and smoke emanating from the slimer seemed like it was blowing downwards into the alcove’s depths. But his form was becoming whole and more solid.

Planting a foot down, the ghost pushed on a knee and lifted himself up on both his feet. He stumbled, and fell against the wall. He was still being drawn, but he gritted his teeth and moved on. He slid up and slowly against the mural, and up the stairs one step at a time.

The farther he got, the stronger the call, but the more he kept himself together. The ghost continued. He didn’t want to die again. He still had a lot of things to do. He had to live to live, no matter how horrible or how fantastic the future maybe, he wanted to live through it all. Even through the pain, he wanted to live, and so the ghost continued on.

He returned, back into the darkness and far from the alcove. He wasn’t alone. His mind wandered through the visions of the friends he made, and the things he had done. He dreamed of things that he could do in the future.

He stumbled forward, falling through the bushes and into the grass as he escapes from the hidden lair. He kept himself together, and he was going to live a little bit longer.

((WC: 833))

"Calder..." Amrita gasped out as she saw his form crawl from the darkness. Relief flooded her through the pins and needles that picked at her entire body. Yes, yes it was a bad idea. A seriously bad idea. Alas she couldn't vocalize it, all she wanted to do was go back to the dorms with Calder. She managed a nod and linked her arm with his, dragging them both to their feet and soon towards the dorms.

(Exit!)

It was answers that he sought, a reason, some piece of information he had not had before. Knowing no member of the horse clans would willingly divulge the answers he sought, Sheridan had decided to explore on his own, cautiously exploring as far as he dared, pushing to the edges of the boundaries (though not beyond) on his quest for clues, some hint to the truth he sought. Truths of why, what, and how, truths of the motives and secrets behind the horsemen.

Sheridan was angry, suspicious, he did not trust the horsemen, in truth he never had. From the day of the first encounter on that cursed island barely a year ago (a year, was that truly all the time that had passed? Odd, it felt as though a lifetime had gone by since then) he had felt it, there was something there, something he did not like, something...dark, though what that was he could not have said. Had he imagined it? Was he blinded by his own anger?

No, no he had not, it was there, he knew it was. For all the show of alliance and cooperation, he could not shake it, that sense of something off, a hidden motive, a secret agenda known only to the horsemen, perhaps kept secret even from their supposed allies. Did anyone really know the horsemen or what their goals truly were? Could they really be certain the horsemen were not just as, if not more, dangerous than the hunters? Who was to say they did not hold an even darker purpose, a fate even more cruel for the beings of halloween? Sheridan, for one, was not convinced.

But what were the horsemen hiding? It was that he did not know, and that he intended to find out, even if he had to do so on his own. It was with that goal in mind that he had set out that afternoon to explore as far as he could, to discover some piece of information, to keep his eyes open for some hint or clue. Surely if he kept a watchful eye, observing all he could, there was something to be found, he would not leave empty handed.

The observation point had seemed the ideal place to start. Towering high above the other structures of the island, it stood to offer the perfect vantage point. Even if he found nothing at the point itself, he was certain to find at least a clue, something to point him in the direction he should search next.

But as he readied to begin his ascent, something else had caught his attention. Had he heard something? Maybe, but he couldn't be sure, and now as he strained to listen he only heard the sound of the wind through the trees, the rustle of leaves and creak of branches. And yet, he was certain there was something there, it captured his curiosity and drew him forward. Cautiously, he approached the base of the tree, tail flickering with his steps, what was--a door? Why was there a door here?

There was something foreboding, a sense, a nagging voice in the back of his mind that screamed to him this was a bad idea. He hesitated, crouching outside the door, peering into the dim light beyond. A step forward, the voice in his head grew louder, it was dark, it was cramped, there was no way to know what danger lay behind that door, every instinct told him to turn back now. And yet he continued, ducking as he stepped through the door and into the passage, drawn forward by what he told himself was the purely logical urge to uncover the secrets of the horsemen, the thought that if he were to find something, he would find it down there.

Stepping into the passage, he paused near the door, allowing his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness before moving on, winding his way down the long, slopping path. With each step, his gaze scanned the walls that lined the corridor, reaching out on occasion with a cautious hand to touch the stone of the walls then pulling back at the surprising cold. The air felt heavy, stifling, and yet frigid. As he walked on he felt he was drawing nearing to something, something ominous, something that felt almost...alive, no, not alive, and yet there was an energy he could not explain.

What was this place? Perhaps some ancient shrine or ritual chamber? Or was it--he stopped, a mixture of wonder and horror in his eyes as his gaze fell on the murals that covered the walls, graphic, violent, horrific. Who or what were the horsemen really? For the first time he was no longer sure he wanted to know the answer to that question.

Suddenly it was overwhelming, the sheer weight and power of the energy was too much. He couldn't move, despite his struggles, no matter how desperately he willed his limbs to move, he felt as if it would crush him under its weight. He could no longer stand, collapsing to his knees even as his hands surged to his ears to block out the sound. What...what was happening, what was this energy, this terrifying energy that seemed to rob him of his will and draw him toward it? What was happening to him? No!

Images flickered, moving like ghosts before his eyes. Were these real? He tried to call out, but his voice failed him, and the horsemen he saw did not heed him, did they even see him? Cages, limbs reaching through the cruel the bars, no, not limbs, living beings, who where they? Was he seeing images of the past, the future, or some alternate time? Or was it only another nitemare, another cruel game? His eyes closed tightly, he shook his head, desperate to clear the images from his mind.

Leave me alone...

He was gasping for breath, curled against himself, laying pitifully on the floor. Crushing, consuming, he was powerless to fight it, he couldn't stand, he could barely breath. It felt as if it would tear him apart, as if it would devour every part of his being until there was nothing left. He had to escape, he had to get out of this place! If only he could stand, if only he could run, if only he could leave that place behind.

The noise seemed louder, though he pressed his hands harder over his ears, his eyes shooting open as he felt another a powerful wave of the energy surge through him, the energy that felt familiar and yet so terrifyingly unknown. Was this FEAR?

Through the pain and the horror, he had seen something, symbols on the floor below, glowing red symbols, menacing and sinister. Later he would remember and question the meaning of those symbols, but now it was only a passing vision, pushed out by the overwhelming terror of the force that held him.