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The mirror shattered without difficulty as the others did, almost surprisingly so despite having done it twice before. It was so easy, in fact, his cleaver just kept on swinging, crashing through, the mirror shards falling to the ground in a spray of reflective glass. He wasn't thinking at all about who might be on the other side, and if anything, thought that by now it would be pretty damn obvious to just get out of the way.

But the fates aligned. He had been looking for one of his friends and oh, he found one. He found one, and before he could do anything to stop himself, his cleaver was knocking a sickle out of the air, his momentum too great to stop himself as sawed edges embedded themselves into Ripley.

No, not Ripley. It wasn't really Ripley. He reminded himself that right away. This was just a game. Just a dream. Just a dream of a game and nothing here was real. Nothing he did here was going to mean anything in the real world.....

Unless it was like that other dream. The one where they all remembered everything. <********." Just that one word, one single syllable was all he could manage to utter, and it was unclear whether he meant <******** I just cleaved my friend half way through his body or <******** I don't want to remember this, I don't want him to remember this, either.

He wasted no time in wrenching the cleaver free, following Ripley as he stumbled back, reaching out for him, grabbing for his wrist, fingers barely brushing against the cuff of his jacket, intent on grabbing him, on hauling him closer, on keeping him upright, on apologizing.

But then Ripley had to utter that one, single word, and he stopped himself. His fingers didn't close around the fabric before it slid away, and he watched, face pale, eye wide, as his friend slipped away, another stumble back.

Finn didn't even notice when the sickle was swung back up in the air. He was too focused on staring at Ripley, on keeping his one brown eye locked on amber. He couldn't tell, couldn't tell if the other man had been trying to make light of the situation, or if the word was meant to hold weight, to give impact, to make him feel.....

"Ye--" He started, taking a step forward. He was reaching out again, two hands, his cleaver dropped to the ground. He was going to grab him, he was going to catch him before he could fall. He was going to hold him again, and this time, he was going to admit the truth.

He wanted it. He wanted the happiness. He wanted to be able to feel trust again. He wanted...he just wanted to give it all another chance, but he wanted it to be different. All of that, he was ready to admit, he was ready to tell somebody.

But the words were cut short, before even the first could be fully uttered. The sickle found it's mark, and cut into the side of his neck, deep, too deep.

Deep enough.

The intense look in his eye became dulled, stunned, and what might have been the beginnings of a sad smile flickered, and faded, as he dropped to his knees.

Yes.

He thought to himself as he sank to the floor.

Yes. This is better.

And then adventuremaster was simply dead.

Worry quickly changed to recognition as she realized Milo did indeed know it wasn't real. The look in his eyes clearly indicated that he was out of beserker mode and back into totally normal, loveable green ranger.

Though she was initially jarred by his sudden movement (after all, right after being attacked not once, but twice kind of left a person on edge), she eventually moved in to return his hug with one of her own bone crushing ones. Chel did love her hugs.

Once the appropriate hug time had ended, Milo pushed away from her lightly and Chel was left feeling somewhat wanting. "What, don't even recognize your own buddy? Geez I thought we were naka ... what's that one word Allan always tells us we are? Nakama?" She nodded, faking a hurt expression at Milo's actions. She could never be really mad at Milo though. "Nah, don't worry about it. Happens to all of us. 'Cept me of course. I'm perfect." She flashed a smile to indicate she was joking, and then looked out at the field of mirrors.

"You see anyone else you know? I found some good people in my guild, but if I'm honest I don't know who they are." Chel shrugged. She knew Shun and Uttam were allied with Halloween, but ... if she was honest, she trusted them more than most hunters. "I feel like somethin's gonna happen soon, you know?"

[ ROUND 2 REPLY TO Epithet: HP 20/ 40 HP ]

Another player smashed through the mirror just beside him, sending him sprawling with a powerful hook-

He felt pain from the scratch wound on his cheek. The other party is a Chesire-

Just as the Mad Hatter, the Chesire looks...slightly confused. Also in fear.

What does they see when they looked into the mirror? Probably nothing good.


But he must stop all this. Otherwise they all will forget who is the real enemy and kill theirself---by accident.

He inhales as deep as he can---

"EVERYONE STOP ATTACKING!!! CAN'T YOU SEE WE ARE BEING PLAYED AGAINST EACH OTHER!!?"

There was a vague memory in which came to AncientPages' mind suddenly, of a time during the great war in his family. It was always the extended family who were at each others throats, constantly nit picking and fighting each other on every tiny detail. His parents never were to turn on each other, but did grow weary of the constant bickering that'd went on since they'd joined one another. But there had been a single time where they had shouted and blamed one another for their own family's fighting, turning into the family's they both had... joining the battle. Thankfully, they could see the flaws in what they'd said, and apologies were exchanged. It'd been a scary moment... but AncientPages was glad it had only been for a moment.

[ ROUND 2 - 30 HP / 40 HP ]

This was a very big desk. A very large, shiny desk. Mahogany? Probably mahogany. Feng tapped his fingers along it and tried not to freak out. This was an important man's desk. He was an important man now.

He gave a hefty sigh, and immediately knocked over a cup of pencils.

"Oh my god," he cried, immediately getting on his hands and knees under the desk to pick them up. Just as he was fumbling them back into the cup there was the click of very-important-woman high heels, and two stiletto'd feet stopped in front of his face.

He he looked up at an impeccable empire waist (that's what they were called right?) skirt, a straight and fashionable blouse - studiously avoiding her gifted chest, and the end of curly red hair. When he tried to look further to see her face he slammed his head on the bottom of his desk and hissed in pain. Better to just stay on the floor then.

"Yes?" he whimpered.

"Mr. Wu, I'm Ms. Bell. I'll be your secretary for the foreseeable future. I've made a copy of your meetings for today, I'll just leave them on your desk," he heard the rustle of paper and he assumed that was the said schedule. "I've also provided a list of numbers you'll need since it's your first day. If you need me just press my name on your phone and it will ring mine. I'm at the desk right outside your door. Will you need anything else before I go?"

Feng winced. "I.. uh... no?"

"I look forward to working with you sir."

She clicked away in her pretty heels, and Feng fell a little bit in love..

Just as the vision faded the queen's face appeared in the mirror and Feng struck out with his watering hose, startled. The mirror shattered around it and his hose hit a girl, instead, and he panicked.

"Oh my god I'm so sorry I didn't mean to I was trying to hit the thing and then the thing just... oh my god."

[ ROUND 2 REPLY TO Chocolate Hooves & iPink: -10 HP(idk how much she has rn) ]

What... a mirror? Suddenly appearing in front of her? OCTO freaked out, watching the scene play out, and then... was suddenly hit. WHAT?! Another one did the same... what the heck?!?! She hit one back just as hard-- OCTOPU55Y was no coward, contrary to her name.

Eyeing the girl who had hit her, who was apologizing to her, OCTO growled. NO MERCY. She whacked the girl upside the head, then left, grumbling to herself.

What if... people didn't like him? what if he wasn't able to relate, or was unversed in the ways of socializing with those his own age? what if he made a fool of himself, and was teased and unwanted...? fears he'd never given though to suddenly started flooding into his mind. But... Boi had been so kind to him... what if he didn't like who he was in the real world...?

Maybe staying alone, at home, forever... wasn't such a bad idea...

[Death]

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry.” He repeated, his wings drooping as his fingers curled into the muddied earth beneath their feet. He liked the Pirate and his companion, they were humans, that much he was sure of, but he liked them. He wanted rather terribly to be liked in return but he knew from the look on Davie’s face that he was lucky to have been given any grace at all. He couldn’t imagine what the boil must have seen to hate monsters so much. One of them must have scared him very badly indeed.
What was there left then to do but apologize for being a burden, for being what he was. He wanted to believe in himself, but it was hard when it was something hated.

Maybe… maybe without him to drag them down, he could take his petrifying friend and find a way out. Hadn’t he offered himself up in one of the odd dreams, hadn’t he hoped that at least the rest of them could get home?

Yes, There was a hope that Davie was right, that it was ‘just a game’, but it felt so very real, the weakness in his limbs, the dragging darkness that swallowed the edges of his vision and even the smell of the churned earth.

The only realism it lacked was the ‘taste’ it would have held had be been –truly- himself. But he was a mouse here, and he’d die like one, in the dirt and trampled under foot.

“Sorry… at, at least you won’t be traveling with… a monster any more.”

He barely realized when he topped sideways into the dirt, the last of his ‘strings’ cut, just another broken toy as the world faded to nothing once more, yet far more final it seemed than the nightmares that had engulfed them all.

He did not rise again.