Welcome to Gaia! ::

Before Sherry could try summoning her weapon, something moved and she was flung into a wall. Large, sharp shards of bone were wedged into each hand. It nearly caused her to black out from the pain alone. She couldn't move her arms.

And then the figure descended, mere skeleton and bone themselves under the collossal cloak. They craned their neck at an unnatural angle. "What's wrong? I thought you said you weren't afraid?"

They took out a thinner, flatter bone shaped knife, and cut delicately along Sherry's coat, ripping a perfect hole and exposing a small part of her lower rib cage. A slender, longer finger pressed against it. "Ah, Hunter bones really are the best."

She didn’t have time to be shocked, on moment she was trying to stand, the next she was against the wall gasping in pain. She couldn’t move, it hurt to try. The presence of her captor was felt more than seen, Sherry spent several heartbeats unable to focus on much of anything.

“I did,” she said, or thought she said, she tried at least. The pain wasn’t easing, it was still nearly blinding, and she was afraid now. When she opened her eyes all she could see was the being in the mask, the one with the knife. It was close, this creature of bone and cloak, too close, and Sherry knew that was bad. Bad, bad. She shuddered when she felt its finger poke at her ribs. Hunter bones. A hiss in the back of her mind echoed Sherry’s own sentiments. Bad, very bad.

“No!” Was all she managed, trying to squirm away from the touch of the thing before her. She didn’t want to think about what it would do with her ribs, and how much it would hurt. The wall blocked her path, and she was stuck, and it hurt, and her hands refused to move.


HP: 45/50

She kicked again, angry and desperate. She didn't want to be here, she didn't want to die here. Again, against the wall she pushed,hoping to pull free. There wasn't much else she could do. Each moment dragged on, punctuated by fear and searing pain, but the alternative was death, obviously and she--

The pain didn't subside, it grew and she gasped, but she moved. She wasn't being held up anymore, not stuck to the wall. She was almost surprised that she stayed standing, but she was free.

35/50

The multiple voices was giving him a headache, not to mention that annoying buzzing sound forming at the back of his head. He didn't know how to feel about following the headless Sherry clones, but at this point, it was all he had to go on. Sherry was in trouble, this much he knew, and he had to find her. He couldn't let the same thing happen to her, he WOULDN'T.

Doing his best not to look at the deformed clone, Jake let them guide him into the water, uneasy about the figure behind him. What had he just themselves into?

Opportunity. Easy, obvious, and- Armagnac hissed with defiance and command, and worry.

What lay outside the room? Was this masked thing alone? Where was Jake? What had Cealius told them? What was the point of running? It would chase her, or something else would grab her. Maybe she'd make it home and get executed, but she wouldn't leave without Jake, would she? And running would just... probably just get her killed, breathless and scared and dead.

Sherry stumbled. She'd been headed toward what seemed to be a doorway, but now she stopped and faced the thing wearing the mask. I can't. Things still hurt, her hands hurt more than anything she could remember.



She'd try. She didn't want to die running and scared. How often had she not fought back? Not fought hard enough? How often had she failed? How often had she'd said it would be different next time?

Failure of a Hunter. That's what Caelius had said they'd be.

There would be no next time. She was almost sure of that.

Somehow it was different now that she could move, now that her captor wasn't looming and gloating over her. She could run, afraid, and probably die, or she could fight and probably die. But she was less afraid when she held her weapon, and out of spite she wanted that. So she summoned her weapon, and that hurt. Her hands hardly wanted to work properly, her right hardly did. But ******** it, she'd try, even she had to hold her weapon in the crook of her damn elbow.

It wasn't a good attack, it was stiff and slow, and more a stab than a swing, but she'd try to make a stand, try to not be afraid.

At Sherry's swing, the mask flew right off-

- and revealed just a hollow skeleton underneath. It would have been terrifying if it wasn't revolting, squirming greys occasionally oozing from the blackened caverns in the skull. Maggots. Centipedes. Insects. Always insects. "They took my skin," said the figure as they picked themselves back together, "but I took theirs in return. It was only fair. Hunter bones make the best bones."

They shot a skeletal arm forward, their own arm, it hissed as it was deflected by Sherry's weapon and the figure collapsed again before reforming. Again it struck, this time harder and with more force. Sherry's Fear shield was there, but it was also waning fast. A skeleton could not simply be broken.

See.

Sherry stumbled, nearly dropping her weapon, this time a combination of things getting to her. The thing was gross, all bugs and bones and power. Pain and weakness were creeping in on Sherry, she could feel it, as she felt her shield falling. I can't, she told her weapon. She would die here; her enemy was not bound by the same problems and weaknesses as her.

Bones. Best bones. Hunter bones. Skin. Sherry found her brain unable to make sense of it. "What are you?"

She felt silly for asking. Just like she felt silly for thinking she could actually fight this thing. She was wounded, her shield was fading, her brain was cloudy, and it kept getting back up. It wasn't something she could just stab and have it disappear. That's not how it worked this time.

She struck at it again, and nearly dropped Armagnac in the process. Pain shot up her arm, and her hand gave out. Fear flooded her again. She couldn't fight it, another hit or two and she'd be as helpless as she'd been on the wall. The accomplishment she'd felt after freeing herself fled. I don't want to die.

She couldn't fight it. A thing she couldn't cut or break. It was stronger than she was, in all it's grimy horror. If she ran, though, she was certain it would catch her and kill her anyway. There was no good choice. Silly Sherry. Thinking she could fight, thinking she might live... she shouldn't even be in that room. It was all Jake's-- Jake was not in the room. He was somewhere outside of it. Alive? Maybe. With a headset? Maybe.

She was dead either way. Wounded, weakened- dead either way. The skeleton would have her in a hit or two, that was clear. No fighting it, no stopping it. Fear of the unknown had kept her in the room, as well as some kind of foolish pride. But now that she could see what she faced, the unknown still held a small chance. Possibly even help. So Sherry swallowed her foolish pride and decided to take that chance.



I can't. I can't fight it. She couldn't even hold her weapon anymore. Useless hunter indeed. One more strike at the being of bone and bugs. Weak and nearly useless, but she tried. Then she turned and ran towards the door again.

They were swarming around Sherry, the darkness, the insects. The formed half-coherent feet, legs, and then cloth wrapped around the gaunt figure. Bones and skeleton and no flesh.

"I remember you," the figure said, taking slow, cautious steps forward to prevent itself from collapsing again, "I remember you and the other. You were here once, we fought. And then more others came and we fought. The battlefield was stained in blood, flesh and Fear dissolved, but only the bones persisted. There were many, but now, just me."

A long, skeletal hand reached towards her. "I shall honour your death as well."