Your eyes snap open, and panic grips you through your sluggish thoughts. Blindness... you think, before the reality of the matter hits you. You are not blind, it is the shear darkness around you that makes it seem so. You take a deep breath to calm your nerves, but instead they spike up in warning, the air catching in your throat as you rush to expel it. The air in this cursed place is heavy with the stench of death. So thick that it suffocates and poisons the lungs, the eventual death of the victim only adding to its potency. As you gag on another gulp of air, your body convulses forward, forcing you to put a hand to the cold metal of the floor to steady yourself.

However, your hand meets more than cold fiber steel. Something squishes and pops as your weight shifts to your arm for support. Between gags and fuzzy thoughts, amidst the stench, you know it was another maggot. You can feel several of them crawling across your chest now, more popping on your back as you rack out blood. Your whole body is reeling away from this place, trying to escape, but such things are futile. You roll over in agony, trying to stop the coughing that tears at your insides and forces you to drink in more of the defiled oxygen. In your thrashing, you hit something cold and slimy. Immediately, you push away from the dead body, but your hand only finds another, and your body weight punctures your hand into what you guess was the chest of something wholly unsavory even in life.

Immediately, something is wriggling up your arm. Your hand has to sink further into the slimy mess to shove you away from the two bodies. Now, your whole arm seems to be squirming around, as though your skin has come alive and is trying to peel itself off of you. More maggots, you guess as the hacking and coughing comes in another wave. The only thought you have is to get them off, despite the choking you are experiencing. On all fours now, you sputter and cough up blood while slamming your forearm against the metal floor. As your arm hits the solid fiber-steel plating, pain splits up your arm and you feel the "squish-pop" of at least fifty of the disgusting worms.

Each bash sends more of them fleeing up your arm and under your shirt... Or at least what's left of it. As they wriggle twisting paths across your skin, they pass over boils, flaring them anew. The coughing has died down into gasping, the air to heavy and thick to draw any good breath. The pain that now rips through your lungs, however, makes breathing nearly impossible. Your roll over in desperation, hoping to kill them and stop the pain, but adding pressure to the wounds only makes them worse. Something within you gives out, and the last thing you remember is cursing into the darkness and realizing for the first time that tears were stinging your face. They were running down your cheeks as darkness added to darkness, and time stretched on endlessly with the pain...

--------------

Eventually, recollection finds you again. You are flat on your back, just as you were an indeterminable time ago. As you were an indescribable amount of time before that. You have no remembrance of the coughing and sputtering, but you draw a breath carefully, knowing by instinct that anything less would surly drag you back into a bout of unstoppable choking. Even breathing through your mouth, however, the rancid stench of death burns your nostrils. Each breath is ragged and labored, the air being too heavy to breath well.

In the cell above you, a scant meter from your face. You hear someone thrashing about. Through the metal, you can hear the muffled ring of their screams as they fight off the invasive worms. Against your will, your bicep twitches, causing an uproar of movement to burst across your skin. You can feel the tiny critters skittering and sliming their way up your arm, over your sensitive armpit, and down your side towards your crotch. You dare not move your leg for what might stir down there. You close your eyes hoping to fall asleep and forget again... But the darkness you seek never comes. Something in your hair moves, entwining itself further into the greasy strands.

You try to remember how it was you got here, but its beyond your mind's reach. The last light you saw was tinted gray from endless cloud cover. You remember thinking that morning, in broken pieces, that it would be the third day in a row that it rained. You cant remember if it really did rain or not, or even if you woke up that day. There seems to have been no time before that morning... A needle, you remember a needle. Then the moment comes to you, you remember as if all at once the arm that slipped around your neck and held you in place while your arm was pricked and you felt something injected under your skin. You tried to turn your head to find the culprit, but you had barely started to twist your neck before your legs began to feel like Jell-O. Your body crumpled to the damp ground in a heap.

In a last moment, men wearing gasmasks, and body armor, an insignia on their chests you had never seen before crowded around you. The emblem was of a crow, with an upside-down spire of rock piercing its heart. The symbol was set in a circle of red that was slightly shorter than the bird, not quite reaching the tip of the beak or tail feathers. The gruesome image stood out starkly against the bright white, synthetic material of the body armor. The armor itself was made up of two parts, a light but dull blue undersuit, and a series of fibrous plates that attached themselves to the undersuit. You only ever had seen that type of armor a few times before. Each time, it incited fear without fail. It was a design typical of The Emperor's legions.

The first few drops of rain had begun to fall when you slipped away into unconsciousness. If only you could do that now.

The man above you stops his rabid hunt for escape, likely drifting into the same sort of coma you still sought. A refuge against the undying solitude of this place. Even nightmares did not compare to this wretched hellhole. Every moment you still remained here was a thousand years to your soul. No one came or went. The dead were the only company, if company one could call them. Their "friends" spoke more for them than they spoke themselves, and the messages were never pleasant. If only there was a way you could join them, if only there was a way...

A small sound pricked your ear, a miniscule noise in the silence of the dark. Someone talking? No, it was a different kind of sound. Shaking yourself violently to free yourself of some of the bugs, you begin to crawl towards the source of the noise, it grew a little louder as you neared a wall, though whether it was the wall or the door, you could not tell. All the sides of this half-room were the same, the only different factor was the number of bodies piled against each. Your space was little over a meter tall, and perhaps eight feet along the sides of the square. Under you and above you, you assumed other prisoners were stacked, like sardines in a multilayered can.

You stopped out of reflex, you mind telling your face not to go any farther. With a hand, you reached out tentatively into the darkness before you. No more than three centimeters before your face was the chilly metal of the wall, and beyond it, the source of the sound. With even more deliberation, you shifted your body around so you could press your ear up against the plating and listen.

Your heart stopped. It pondered a moment... And then it resumed its unsteady, and quickening, pace.

Beyond the wall, you could hear a sound of warning. Sluggish thoughts tried to put together the muddled pieces of its meaning. For the life of you, you couldn't have remembered what the repetitious buzzing could be, but without a doubt you knew it had some grave significance. Thoughts moved like molasses, struggling for that one important fact, struggling through an almost synthetic haze that obscured the mind. Something within you was tearing to get out as your mad quest for the answer to this riddle drove you into a state of panic. This must have been something... Something... What was it?! What could be so evasive to even your own mind?! What could--

All at once, the wall began to move. There was a release of hydraulic clamps, a grating of steel, and the wall your cheek was pressed against sort of popped out an inch or two. Immediately, air within the small cell begins to be sucked out, replaced by lighter, somewhat fresher, air as the pressure equalizes. Then the door begins to lift out of the way, more hydraulics kicking into action as it did. More maggots squirm away from your body at the rumbling creak the movement has produced. Finally, you can remember what that blasted noise was for, and you try to wriggle into the recesses of the small cell along with the worms. Your arms reach up to protect your face from the hands that you know will reach out of the never ending darkness to grab you by the shirt.

Your keepers have come for you again, to go back... To the torture, to the endless hours of irrational thinking and missing memories. You struggle to hide from the hellions that have returned to take you away to that place of darkness. You remember, for the first time in a long while, something besides the cold darkness of your cell: you remember the horrendous pain, you remember the instruments of immortal terror. Thoughts bombard you like hellfire, the vicious animals, rabid for blood, set loose upon your skin to rend you with their violent claws. In the madness that now consumes you, your rush to get away, you remember the needles they stuck under your skin like cruel acupuncture. Then, laughing as they did so, you remember the tearing of flesh as they ripped the needles out, hooked ends deployed. In shrieking fear, you remember a thousand upon ten thousand methods of torture, each one having been personally experienced, as a firm hand grips your shoulder and drags you out of the cell and onto the dark, cold floor of the hall.

The person never drags you away though, they just leave you there to wait, while groaning comes from another man as he is pulled out of the cell above you and set nearby. Several others can be heard behind you, already pulled unceremoniously from their holdings. Before you can think, you are somehow on your feet, being pushed by the man behind you through the darkness. You stumble forward and push the man before you, surprisingly on his feet as well. Without an explanation, you are lead down the hall through absolute dark, penetrated only by occasional grunt from behind you and the gentle shove that followed. Your legs felt like wet noodles, to put it best, but somehow you managed to trudge along that long, dark hallway.

All the way to the elevator. Stepping close, the doors began to open for you. From them, light poured forth like a blinding tidal wave. It was as though the silent doors slid apart with the very intention of burning away every sensory nerve in your eyes, just to blind you out of spite. There was a click as the massive doors were opened fully, and your group was pushed into the unspacious elevator behind a figure that was only recognizable as the silhouette of a heavily armed guard. The elevator was made for small numbers of people, and the nine or ten people crammed into it were not an easy fit. No one spoke, content to simply shield their eyes from the bright overhead lights while eyes used to only darkness remembered the feel of color. Something told you that today was not your day.

This elevator was short ranged, it was meant for transportation between a small number of floors in the prison. You remembered somehow that the whole complex was underground, the main holding shaft being a couple hundred floors into the ground. You knew also, from your many trips to the torture chamber, that you would have to go to on of the control centers to get to the main elevator shaft. The control rooms were positioned every ten floors into the complex, each guarded by men in the same type of body armor as the one next to you. The same kind that they had worn the day you were apprehended. You realized, probably for the first time, that these short range elevators only went down from the control rooms. It was a security measure that allowed the guards to lock down a single floor and therefore lock down a whole section of the prison. Just another measure to ensure that there was never a possibility of escape.

The elevator stopped its descent, and the doors opened. The masked guard gave out a single command in a digital voice fabricated by his facemask and helmet. "Move. Let me through," it ordered in a harsh tone, forcing men to creep out of the elevator and into the short hallway. Ahead, you could see the passage went around a dark corner, and another order came as the figure reached that edge. "Stay here." In the span of a blink, the man then disappeared.

There was a long pause... Oh, if only it had been longer.

What erupted forth would haunt you for the rest of your living days. Not screams, but shrieks, cries of pain beyond words tear through your body. The despairing wails reverberate off the metallic walls and cut your frail body to the very core with their hopeless loss and agony. Hot, red blood splashes from around the corner, lights flicker on and off. Energy weapons are heard charging up, but their bolts are never fired as their owners' bodies go slack with death. Heavy objects can be heard crashing to the floor with echoing strikes. Lights flicker and go out, electrical equipment fizzles and sparks, the melee beyond invoking images of destruction.

Without warning, two figures sweep into the hallway. The rusty smell of blood entering your nose as the first guard is slammed into the wall by the other, impaled by the sword the man is carrying. The second man's armor is drenched in blood, and you know almost instantaneously that this is the guard that brought you up in the elevator. As swiftly as he came, he disappeared back down the corner to enter the melee once more. More screams bursted forth amidst the groans of the dying. In another moment, someone's disembodied head, with the helmet still on, hit the wall opposite to you. Blood splattered on the wall at the point of impact, and then was smeared downward as the head fell to the ground. The red eyes of the mask seemed to watch the group even in death, like some sick omen of their own demolition.

Silence. The air is still. The rusty smell of blood tingles your nose as your mind tries to imagine the gore that must be beyond the corner. You feel sick, knowing that the head on the floor might be the one that started the fighting, but it does not appear to be so. The wound is as though from a sword, as you saw the man using. Fear grips you again as you picture the guards about to burst forth from around the corner and fire upon your scarcely defendable group. Each one of you looks more disgusting than the next, as you glance around at the others, it might be a worthy endeavor to remove them from the world. Their skin is sickly yellowed, covered in swollen bruises and soars. Bugs still skitter across some, weaving in and out of the ragged remains of the peasantry the once wore. A white maggot stands in contrast to one mans dark hair, his hunched, skinny form nearly unmistakable from those around him. The smell was disgusting.

The ringing of steel being sheathed caught the wind in your throat. Your blood ran cold. The sudden noise had scared you, your incontrollable bladder leaking. A spot of clear piss formed below your groin, hardly even a puddle. Everyone else had just done the same, in the collective disarray of your clothing, it was hard to miss the fact that you were all as good as naked.

The computerized voice brought your mind from the gutter once more. "Come," was the only order. Cautiously, you moved around the corner, nauseous by the stench and still weary on your legs. The command was repeated, "come," and you moved a little faster at the impatience in the tone. You were all a sorry lot, but the scene that was revealed to you in flickering electric lights, like strobes, and the chaos in the room would have brought you to your knees even in good health. Men, wearing the nearly impenetrable armor, were ripped open, splattered across the walls, hewn in two, rended into slices and torn into individual body parts. It was not like the rotting dead in your cell, not something that had been there before you had arrived, but something that just happened. It was an annihilation you had witnessed, and you were glad you didn't have the opportunity to see it happen. The screams were echoing in your head already.

Amidst the death before you, the lone figure stood, dancing lights reflecting off of glistening blood splatters across the snow white armor and blue undersuit. The figure was a little more slender than you had remembered, but you had not had most of your sight when last you saw him. At his side, his merciless weapon was sheathed, around him the example of its power. Where he stood, was the only clean spot on the floor. Everywhere else was covered in blood.

He reached a hand over and hit a button on a nearby computer panel. A small, blinking light flashed green, illuminating another splash of blood an odd color. The person took a step forward, into the blood, and took off one of the pauldron plates from his armor. The arm revealed seemed much to skinny to wield a weapon with the sort of efficiency, but it would be treason to oneself to doubt it. Your concern, however, was more with what the man was digging out of the hollowed underside of the plate. In a moment you knew, as he held them out in a hand, like cards in a game. Needles.

"Each of you has been poisoned," he told you, "this is the antidote. I will set one before each of you. By taking the antidote, you are telling me that you are trueblood, and you wish to escape this godforsaken place. By declining, you will earn only death." The voice was measured and even, this person held no high position with either side of the choice before you. How could you possibly trust him, though? Wasn't he a guard? No, he couldn't be, he just massacred them... But the emperor is a ruthless man, he could have found displeasure with them, and...

The needle was placed before you on the floor. Still on your knees and watching the ground in concentration, you hadn't noticed the man move up to you. Bloody footsteps were on the ground where he had been only a moment before. Now, there was only you and that needle. You could see the orange liquid settling in the tube, it was thick, like a syrup... What was it you put syrup on again? Pan-... no, waff-... no, fre-... You couldn't remember. Whatever it was, it reminded you of your memory, it just moved around in a thick, slow manner, settling on the bottom of your thoughts. You couldn't remember what had woke you this time, only that you were now awake. With pleading eyes, you looked up at the guard. Eyes pleading for answers to these questions you so long wanted to have. Then something unexpected happened.

It made your decision for you. You picked up the needle and stabbed it into your arm without even feeling the pain. Your thumb depressed the liquid into your body, and you waited.

The guard had grasped her helmet by the facemask, and reached back for the bottom of the back of the helmet. Like a second skin, they peeled both off, revealing an astonishing fact. It was not a man at all, but a woman. A thick mane of dark hair was held up on her head in a coiled braid, which she readily undid, allowing it to flow down her back like glossy silk. Delicate, beautiful features held an expression of reassurance, but in those eyes, there was something more... Determination, willpower, strength, and most of all, something you couldn't place. She nodded slightly, deep emerald eyes locked on yours.

At first, you thought that it was a lie, a joke. The antidote to the "poison" was failing to work. The Emperor had assassins, you knew, that were trained in the art of seduction, of impersonating someone. Somehow, in those eyes, you saw something that immediately threw out the thought. Then you felt it. A tingling that ran from your tailbone up your spine and into your head. It was a warm sensation that filled you with... Thoughts. Memories. Events and time cascaded back into your mind like a whirling vortex of power. You felt lifted, whole, once again. From a time that you remembered. For the first time in what seemed like ages, your mind felt clear. Your thoughts were getting smoother, more fluid, and realization was hitting you about what had happened over the last month. Yes, you remembered how long you had been here even.

You also remembered having this feeling before, with perfect clarity, you remember the horror of every moment that it had happened before. Just before you were "interrogated" for a crime you never committed. The grotesque quality of every one of those moments came to you in haste, followed quickly by the torture that ensued. At last, however, as you had once vowed in your madness, you saw the world for what it was without the constriction of these guards or of their serum. You rose to your feet, firm in your ability to stand, and looked down upon the littered corpses with the same disgusted disposition as the woman before you. Smiling to see the intelligence once again back in your eyes, she handed you another unexpected object. A small yellow crystal.

"Hang on to that, it will give you strength," she said in a buttery smooth voice that didn't fit the stern tone that accompanied it. She didn't lie, simply touching it made you feel rejuvenated. As you look around to your allies in this solemn hell of a place, you see they too are holding the crystals. They all stand straighter, and despite their lack of covering, they look confident. It makes you feel confident along with them. You also notice that their skin looks a little bit more colored. It's still yellowed and grimy, but there seem to be fewer boils and soars, the bloating seems to be down, and they look like they're much healthier then they once were. Your mind is boggled that their skin doesn't hang from their bones like the rags they wear, and looking to your own skin, astonished that it is the same.

There is no time to worry about it though, as the woman put her helmet back on and removed the rest of the armor, save for the undersuit. Wasting no time, she points to an overturned cabinet, "get those undersuits on, you wont be able to carry the armor pads yet. Then," she points to another rack, tilted on its side, a corpse propped up against it, "see if any of those weapons over there are programmed in yet. Chances are they are. Your things are over there," she points to a final cabinet, in the back corner of the room, untouched by the bloodshed around it, "if you have anything of value or importance. Be quick! We must leave here as soon as the elevator arrives. Enough time has already been wasted."

Above you, the elevator, powered by magnets, is speeding downwards at a blistering pace. As the little green light blinks, your escape ride, comes ever closer. And so does the enemy.



EDIT: I seem to have not specified the type of "weapon" on the racks. It is the gaurd's standard energy carbine. Few of them are unprogrammed with genetic information, having been used previously. PM me if you want to know if your carbine is usable, or just go for your standard weapons in the cabinet.

The images that come forth in my mind from your words *shivers* ..... theres no word to describe it without risk of an understatement. Amazing.

Strangely, Ryan Tabanne seemed entirely unaffected by the sudden changes in his situation. After all, dreams weren't supposed to make sense. What difference did it make, if a dream shifted from one weird image to another? Morning would come soon enough, and even this nightmare would be just a fading memory.

"Your things are over there!"

The stranger's order made little sense. What else could his dream-self own? Tonight, he acted the part of a poor prisoner. What else could he have, but rags and sorrow? But he might as well look anyway, perhaps his "things" would provide an interesting plot twist?

It was no surprise at all to Ryan when he saw his real-self's equipment in the cabinet. Of course it made no sense that a prison would keep any of it, and even less sense that he'd ever see it again. But it didn't bother him, far stranger things had happened in his dreams. Somewhere in his unconscious mind, he decided that he approved of this plot twist. At least a battle would be a refreshing change from the earlier torture.

A quick check of his equipment showed it was all there. Rifle, pistol, armor, spare ammunition, radio, everything he'd normally carry. And better clothes, he noticed with a happy thought. Not rushing at all, removed the old prison clothes and threw them aside, then began replacing them with his own. It was a calming ritual he'd performed so many times it came without conscious thought. Armor on, tighten the straps, a spare magazine here, a hidden knife there. Even in a dream as odd as this, some things still worked the same.

When he reached the small radio transmitter, he stopped for a moment. For a second that seemed an eternity, he held the device, lost in the memories that it brought. Carefully, giving those memories their proper respect even in a dream, he slipped it into a pocket. I'll see you again soon, he promised silently.

The rifle on the other hand, brought an entirely different improvement in his mood. Its comforting weight promised an entirely different kind of dream. A full load, how many will I get tonight? he wondered as he slipped its spare ammunition into his various pockets. Pockets full, he locked the final magazine into the rifle and slapped the bolt handle to ready his first shot. Even among "allies", in a dream as strange as this one, there was no point in waiting.

Finally satisfied with his preparations, he turned his attention to the others. Completely lacking the stranger's worried haste, he began studying what his mind had produced for companions tonight.

Vao let out a grin, glad that someone had finally let them loose. Even if he knew not who his "allies" were, why should he care? As long as they have a chance of escaping, he cared not who it was with. Gleefully, he walked over cabinet, quickly slipping on his garments.

As he walked over to the weapons rack, Vao let out a smile towards his comrades, as if in pity of their sorrow. Hey, the situation could be worse. We could always be dead. Absent-mindedly, he grabbed a carbine, checking to make sure it wasn't geneticly encoded and that it had a fresh power cell.

"So," Vao asked, breaking what little calm their was before they left this godforsaken place,"What're all your names?" he asked inquisitively. "Mine's Vao," he said proudly, pointing to himself.

"Enough time has already been wasted"


The fear was flowing through himself yet again. He felt the energy splash through through him, his strength regaining ever moment in possesion of the yellow crystal. Khevbik Klavmur yearned to leave this hellhole once and for all, so much even it felt more painful than the tortures, however unlikely accurate to say the least.

As quickly as his thoughts came to, he tried his best to rush to the cabinets where the suits and his equipment were. Off gaurd he wobbled his way forward, nearly falling to the ground, he clenched the yellow crystal tighter in his palm. Khevbik felt the warmth, the energy from the crystal, his head was in total clearity, but his body was still weak, his mind at least felt anew. He opened the cabinet, there it was, a stack of undersuits; dignity was something the crystal couldnt give him, luckily, undersuits offered the gift.

"Aha! My things.", Khevbik didnt any waste time wrapping the holster around his waste and strapping the knife in sheath on his left arm. His trenchcoat was here as well, a name it had earned him zestfully. Trenchcoat Killer. He would have stood to wonder who came up with the name, but fear pressed his attention to the prized weapon. He smiled holding his Glock36 pistol. This weapon was his life, the end of other's, this is what kept him alive.

Then it hit him, there were other people here in the same twisted circumstance as he. He knew they were with him, yet he seemed to have forgotten; perhaps his mind wasn't was as clear as he thought.

At least he wasn't alone in this ordeal, he preferred being alone really, but company now, never felt better. He nodded to the ones who looked his way as they went about their business in the moment. The fear had been gone for a few minutes, unfortunatly, it would wave through him once more any second; but for now he was calm, he needed to stay calm through this or at least try. His art was death, and too many times had it almost taken him, he should be used to it, yet he couldnt control it when it came forth.

The fear returned.

Trenchcoat on, gun and knife in hands, he was ready for a fight. He held his stance wearily, he hoped the gaurds didnt get in close combat, he was much stronger now than he was lying in that filth, but not strong enough to take on several men swarming him in close combat, much less one. He would have to make his shots count. Khevbik didnt think there would be bullets stocked with the latest gear in this place, being old fashioned might end up being his downfall. He grinned to himself shaking his head slightly at the thought. Old fashioned.

Ackon half fell back to the ground, clutching the crystal gift as though it was his lifeforce; which undoubtedly at this point was all too true. He crept foreward on his hands and knees, one leg dragging behind. When he arrived at the long rectangular wooden box he presumed to be stocked with his old posessions a few of the others seemed battle-ready- a sensation he had not felt in many weeks.

When at last his old clothes were back on they felt bigger, but his weight would hopefully return in the coming days, for now he would have to rely on hiding. He also now carried his damning rifle in its bodyhugging bag, his running shoes and butane lighter. His sidearm was in his hand, 4 bullets in the magazine, nothing was left of the rifle's.

When he stood he felt frail and vulnerable, he was watching from the inside as one shadow of a man introduced himself as Vao. "Ackon." the answer he gave reverberated in his skull and he closed his eyes, almost falling backwards.

A gentle hum was now felt in the floor through his feet- the elavator was close and he took (shaky) aim at the doorway that woulld soon open, quite unsure what would issue forth from it.

The elevator was propelled by powerful magnets, much like a railgun. The magnetic shifts made by sending electicity through bars of positivly or negativly charged metal created the force needed to move the high speed car. Men had to be secured with helmets, belt strapps, and harnesses in order to keep their bodies in place and avoid deadly whiplash. The tiny car, with its payload of vicious souls, was at this very moment, heading on a deathcourse for the 28th control room--the same one the heros were now occupying.

The car could hold up to 15 men in standing harnesses. The harnesses were arranged in rows, five men to each, with a short space to either side to allow for passage. The harnesses were automated, but could be operated manually if they were disfunctioning. When the car stopped, there was a short pause to make sure it still wasn't going anywhere, and then sensors within the car released the bindings. A manual button opened the door. It was positioned to the right of the opening, a square red block that stuck out from the wall. "Door", was imprinted on the surface in embossed, black lettering. All in all, it took an average of thirty seconds to open the door once the car stopped.

The main elevator shaft was vacume sealed so that there would be no resistance to slow the descent of the cylindrically shaped car. The only thing that forced the car to move was the magnets, they kept it from bumping against the side of the shaft, they kept it from going farther then it should, they kept it from falling. Magnets controlled everything, without power, it would be a long fall for the occupants inside. The end would be quick enough, though, and at least they might have enough time to say farewell to this cruel world.

The woman's heart was beating furiously. Whether they understood the mechanics behind those small crystals, thinking them to use some sort of foolish nano-technology or whatnot, she did not know. Neither did it matter. Speeding down that elevator shaft, silently (sorry MDRud, but if you looked at a monitor you could have seen a visual representation of the same thing, my bad), was likely a payload of warriors. It would be only seconds till they arrived.

Seconds that were ticking away as the disheveled men around her obeyed her orders without knowing why. They did what they were told, for the postpect of escape, or for the hell of it, to weary from their time in this hell-on-earth to remember what was real and what was fake. She had to get them away from this place before it awoke in an uproar. Her worst fear was that it already had, and a fifteen man squadron would be the very least of their worries. The thought was filled with dread... Even if she did get them on the elevator, who's to say that they wouldn't be killed when first the door opened...

Or worse, if, in their acent to the surface world, they cut the power to the base. It was the most logical choice... Maybe.

If she was killed, in this prison where there were no escapes. If she were captured by these deadly villans, where would they take her? The would find out in short order who had sent her, even if she refused to tell them anything... Even if she endured that pain, that awful pain, like she had those many years ago. What would it earn her? The same death as that awaited these men... No, it did not await them yet. The methods of their destruction couldn't be known to them yet.

They still fondled with this ancient technology, outwarly appearing to know what they were doing, but inwardly the woman knew they had no clue what to do with the weapons and equipment. She hurried to show them how to put the suits on, "it stretches, see?" she asked them, stretching the neck of the suit to show how it contracted and expanded easily. Very quickly, her ugency to be away from here seeming to rub off on some, they were equiped with the skin-tight body suits. Sub-conciously, she caught her own embarassment at wearing such a garb, knowing that they were too out of their own minds to care... Even after the antidote. Hah, as though anyone could care after what they had all endured.

Out of the corner of her eye, the little blinking green light came on solid. She snapped her eyes to a monitor that showed its postition, which was right on top of them. "The elevator is here! Prepare yourselves for combat!" was all she could get out before she heard the elevator opening behind her. I hope those crystals do what they're really supposed to, she thought, drawing her sword as the first blast of energy tore through the room, gods, smile upon us this day!

With a roaring battle cry she turned upon the gaurds, deadly weapon already poised in a whirwind's arc.

Shrogen blinked. A completely different scene assailed him then the one he had been a part of just moments earlier. He blinked again. The same thing occurred. It was like his brain was unable to keep up with the changes going on around him. Suddenly there was a sharp sting of pain in his arm, and he looked in surprise to see himself injecting himself with an unknown liquid. Another blink and the needle was replaced by an odd yellow crystal.

His brain had been mentally scarred by the atrocities inflicted on him, and it compensated in the best way it knew how, by disconnecting with reality. However, the tendrils of an alien agent was now pulling on neurons, a spark of new thought sprang here, there, spreading quickly before turning into a lightning storm of thought.

His eyes glazed over as he was assaulted by mental images, sounds, smells, memories, emotions, and pain. He was reliving his life, sometimes starting from now and going back, sometimes from the beginning going forward, most of the time jumping here and there, his brain reordering itself, filling filing cabinets and dusting off. He remembered his childhood, being tutored by various strangers as he had attempted to gain a trade in these dismal times. In the end, having failed at everything, he grew content with his worthless and purposeless existence. His recollection ended at his unexpected assault. It was a shame he had so little to remember.

For the first time in what might have been eternities, Shrogen was in the present and what might have passed as “sane”. He looked down again to find himself in the skintight synthetic armor and a weapon of near mythical proportions on the street. He turned it over and began to inspect it when a sharp cry of warning and an order to fight.

With a disengagement of clicks, the elevator door opened and out poured the enemy. The figure in front of a group of motley looking figures in the same synthetic armor (his brain identified them as “friends” for reasons he did not know) raised their own weapons to fire. Shrogen did the same, his hand finding the trigger after only a quick search.

There was a crackle followed by volley of hissing as air near the muzzles of the weapons of both side superheated, followed by the hiss of air rapidly heating as the deadly shots of death without mass filled the air. Shrogen tightened his finger on the trigger and heard quite a different sound.

“You are not the owner of this gun, please contact the local master at arms and have it returned to . . .”

As the weapon rattled off a name and serial number, Shrogen decided on using the gun in another way, a method he had observed personally a few times in his life on the street. He sprinted as fast as his legs would carry him to the elevator door, where another figure in the synthetic armor (his brain identified this on as “savior”) and brought the butt of the weapon down as hard as he could on the first armored figure he came to, having narrowly avoided death from his energy carbine. The victim of his attack slumped, and Shrogen joined the melee, wielding his energy carbine like a club.

During the time spent in the prison,Elan had just disconected.Like whatching someone else's torment,someone else's madness. So when he put the needle into his arm,it had even been a suprise to him. The crash of memory's that had followed sent him to his knees,nearly dropping the crystal. Though he retained enough sense not to drop that precious gift.

Now he stood,waiting for his tormentor's to come,drawing a throwing knive in one hand,and extending the Katar for his other. The weapons felt odd in his weak hands,but somehow...right. When the door hissed open,admiting guards,Elan held his throw,waiting . It would have been a waste of knive,for the air seered with energy as both sides discarged there guns. A blast narrowly missing his head shook some sense into him,and he decided it was time to take the fight close range.

His decision was even more reinforced when one of his fellow inmates rushed foreward with a gun,using it as a club. Elan charged in,leading with his spinning throwing knive. As soon as the knive left his hand,he put pressure on his palm to extend his second Katar. Letting out a battle cry that sounded melodic,he lept into the fray.

The skirmish lines met in a fearsome clash. The woman's blade dealt swift, fluid death to equal measure to every man bold enough to fire at her. Her movments were inhuman, her body no less that a fleeting specter that tricked your eyes into thinking she was in one place, when she was already in another. Regardless, your mind had far more important things, among them, your own survival, to worry about.

As Shrogen met the first warrior, he was disturbed to find that they carried basic combat knives. Within a matter of moments, it didn't matter. His club was heavy enough to knock the men unconcious, and the escapees held the initiative. If not for the masks, the gaurds' faces would have likely registered with disgust, such a complex device being used in so crude a manner--and then they would have been blank and bruised, and understanding that it was still an effective method of attack.

Elan's first knife, even amidst the hail of white hot energy, found a solid mark in the eye of one of his keepers, summoning forth a violent shriek of fury. The return fire was what missed his head... If the man was not half blind, it would have likely been a killing blow. His katars felt heavier then the once might have, probably from the lack of nutrition and the general weakness of his body.

In fact, everyone seemed to be having the same effects. Fired shots were not as accurate as they could have been, though the bursts of energy and solid ammuntion was tearing through the enemy ranks. The carnage around you was repeating itself again within the chamber of the elevator, the gaurds being partially caught by surprise.

The woman continued to rip through the attackers, forcing them on the defensive as the others continued to pound them with their weapons. The tide of battle for the weary group looked good.

Standing calmly in the center of Hell, confident in his dream-self's immortality, Ryan raised his rifle to his shoulder and let his crosshairs drift onto the helmet of one of his opponents. The two images merged, and without even conscious thought, he pulled the trigger.

The sharp crack of the rifle shot was deafening in the tiny room the heavy sniper's weapon sent a steel-cored bullet through both sides of the target's helmet and skull with equal ease. At point blank range, no wearable armor could stop the heavy rounds, and not even the past abuses could affect Ryan's aim.

Unfortunately, the weapon's effect on the other end was far from pleasant. Though his radio headset saved his hearing, the rifle's recoil nearly sent the weapon flying from his dream-self's tired arms. Noting this fact, he braced the weapon more carefully and removed the head of a second target.

He saw it, a bolt from the enemy's gun shooting towards him. As quickly as the awareness processed through his brain Khevbik rolled to the ground finishing the dodge by perching himself to one knee. Make your shots count, he reminded himself. Khevbik aimed for the man's head, more precisely, his exposed neck. In that split second, his mind flashed with a mental momentum; he saw the countless faces of the unfortunate men who had died by his hands, there were too many to count. The faces didnt bother him so much the reality that they had come forth at such a time, such a manner. Why now?, he would later ask himself.

It was over for the man who Khevbik had his sights on, he dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes, death raped over the man quickly he supposed, men dont normally live very long after a shot like his. He wished a longer death for the man, he deserved it.

Khevbik's sights were already on another man, wishing never gave an enemy a longer death, he pulled the trigger. The bullet ricocheted off the top of the chest plate glancing the the side man's neck, he involuntarily dropped his gun. Quickly recovering, he pulled out a knife and dived at Khevbik. Khevbik fired again, the bullet plowed into the gaurd's chest, it didnt phase the thirsty man now atop of Khevbik. The gaurd was struggling to sheath his knife within him.

"Damnit", Khevbik grunted as he struggled with this armored foe. If his gun could have a friend, it would certainly be the Hunting Knife, a handy tool it was. A gun could only do such much, this cricumstance called for the knife. The strength from the man was almost too much, he couldnt hold on much longer. Then, for some reason, the man on top of him lost power over him for a moment, Khevbik seized the opportunity. He gathered all his strength and rolled onto him, with a swift movement the knife slashed the gaurd's throat. A handy tool indeed.

Khevbik picked up his pistol that he had dropped in the tiring clash and resumed business. In an instant, another man fell to his expertise, a neck shot like the first. None of the enemy looked his way at that moment. With all the commotion going on at once, swords swinging, guns a blaze, he was beginning to get dizzy, he wasnt used a melee fight such as this. For the momemt he watched ... he watched as the others fought with determination, they fought with the same level of survival as he, it was somewhat ... comforting to see them fight.

Then there was the woman, her movements were graceful, powerful and deadly. She seemed to fight with a drive of hate more than survival. Khevbik was glad to have her with him, hell he was thankful for it, she broke him out of captivity afterall. He would have to pay her back for this someday, that is, if they made it out alive.

As quickly as the battle had begun, so did it end. A last shot was fired, a well placed bullet in a man's neck, and a final whisting strike of the woman's blade. Men were piled on top of eachother, radiating out from the doorway. Inside the tiny car, two or three bodies remained, killed before they could set foot within the control room. The several of the lights above went out at long last, the wires that supplied them with power being disconnected. In the end, the room looked the same shade of red it had been before. The green light had stopped blinking.

Again, the woman rounded on her charges, kicking a body out of the car as she did so. Her words were laden with concern, but still bore the same willpower and determination as they had before, "if they cut the power to this elevator, we're dead. Its a couple hundred floors to the top levels, and it would be a ladder climb all the way. The first thing they will do once they realise they've lost contact with this team is lock down this floor... In which case we will die. Death, for us, is not an option, so we'll have to use the elevator."

"I doubt any of you would survive the ladder, in your conditions, it would be diffucult to even imagine such a thing. So if we are to go, we go now, and we go on the elevator. When we get to the top, I have no idea what awaits. It could be any number of these gaurds... Each armed with the same energy weapons as these here," she kicked another corpse ouf of the elevator, "only, if the base has been mobalized, there wont be a speck of dust on the wall opposite them that hasn't been vaporized."

"By the looks of it, these gaurds didn't know we were going to attack them. They came out of the elevator unprepared. Their guns weren't fully charged, but running... I think we hit them during a change of personel, and got lucky. The next time we come across them, it wont be so pleasant." There was a long pause, she took a moment to glance into the eyes of each of you. "We go now or never, I just hope we're all prepared for what lies ahead."

...So much more lie in wait then she could have possibly imagined...

Elan nodded grimly,retracting his katar's. "Now seems perferable" he said to no one in paticular,retrieving his knive from the dead guard and giving the body a shift kick for good mesure. Wiping the blade of and sheathing it,Elan went back to the storage locker were they had found all the bolongings. It seemed relativly unharmed,so Elan opend it and retrieved his guitar.

He opend the case and plucked a few strings. Satisfied,Elan stored it away and straped it onto his back. "So,are we leaving? I can hardly remeber what real air tastes like.Besides..."the minstrel said,looking around grimly at the bloodsoaked room. "Anywhere is better than here."

{OOC} Sorry for being late. I had to work... {/OOC}

Darkness swept over Yish. Yish was falling... Falling forever into this void that the woman had created. "But that is what I get." Yish said "For trusting someone." As he fell, the memories came back, all of it was clear the pain, the torture. He shivered at the thought of it. Then just a quick as it had come, Yish hit the ground and realized he was still in the prison.

Yish went over to the boxes and retrived his sword, the miraculos killing device that never failed to kill when the wielder wished the target death. After checking the scabard, he placed the sword into it and put it around his waist. All of sudden Yish realized he was naked, so he shamefully put on his clothes and got in line with the others, but not before grabbing a carbine and throwing it on his shoulder.

After the elevator came to a stop and the guards attacked, Yish froze. He could see all the angles he could hit with his sword and the carbine, and was about to go to fight but then he stopped. Why fight? what would gain other than possible death. Oh, the others, they may need help. But he decided that these people had done nothing for him so why should he help them. He was the Unforgiver, and he certianly would not start giving into this werid feeling to help people that had done nothing for him. However he did shoot one guard getting to close to himself, just to see if the carbine worked. And it blasted the head right back into the elevator he had come from.

Killing one guard brought a desire to kill more, and so he went in to the fight for himself, not for anyone else

After the last guard met his doom, Yish stood impatiently asking when were they going to get out of this hell that people called a prison.

Yish could tell he was begining to regret living today.

{OCC}thanks everyone for being understanding about me being late{/OOC}

Ackon's weak form fell to his knees, he did not understand, even with this crystal how the others had enough neergy to pick their ways across the bloody, flesh dotted floor and enter the elevator.

When it opened previously and his allies rushed foreward, white hot blasts whizzing over all their shoulders his shaky aim on his targets was gone. His elbow buckled at the surprise of seeing the enemy and his gun pointed skyward. His finger inadvertantly putting pressure on the trigger and he ducked as it pinged loudly and richochetted(wow, i shouldn't have tried to spell that one) off, flying into the elevator somewhere.

Determined Ackon forced himself to move, standing andat long last walking. He could not wait for the doors to close in front of him and seal him from this strange hell as he strapped himself into a harness.

His diziness lifted.

Khevbik stepped over the bodies, checking the men for anything of use. For a second he went to pick up one of the carbines, but then realized they were programmed and had no use to him. Khevik sighed. He was to continue with his old fashion gun, it wasnt that bad, but an upgrade of some sort would give him a better chance. Khevbik was about to enter the elevator when he noticed blood creeping from under the man he was in hand to hand combat with. He wondered how, he had slit his throat. Walking over to the lifeless corpse, he rolled him over, he found a shallow slash in the man's armor, just barely a laceration to the skin. He now knew how he survived from this fight, but who? There were multiple people with swords, it could be any and Khevbik wasnt about to ask anyone. He liked to play the game of mystery, it spiced up his feelings sometimes and now was a time play.

He looked up to notice the woman had her eyes locked on his, there was a moment between them, and then she gave him a small nod. Now, his bets were on the deadly lady, but with wicked attacks like hers, why didnt she just simply slash him deeper? Perhaps he would find out soon enough, more fighting possibly awaited them at the destination of the elevator. His fear returned once more, and with good reason. How many could there be? 15 more, 30, more than he can count? His mind spun in the possibilities of death, it would come quick from a tsunami of bolts from the enemy, or worse, they end up capturing him again, torturing him before he slowly died in agony. Khevbik dreaded both possibilities.


He nodded back at the woman, then proceeded to the elevator. He stepped in, finnaly! He took his time getting comfortable in the standing harness, as if comfortable could even be in the same sentence as 'standing harness'. It dug into his back and wasn't even padded. He guessed there would be no need if he was to wear armor. The discomfort of the standing harness would have been a luxury he would have sold his soul for an hour ago, it wasnt that bad, he was thankful yet again.

"I'm ready when you folks are, just strap yerselves in and we can meet our doom all that much more quickly", Khevbik jested to the rest of the group. "I'm Khevbik by the way, Khevbik Klavmur, never did get a chance to introduce myself, I guess I was in my own little world before the gaurds flooded us."

OOC: I'll wait for a couple more people to post before I start the elevator's movement. Please dont just "auto" the woman, as in forcing her to respond in a certain way, saying things that I might not have her say or that dont fit her charcter. Minor gestures are fine, and I'm working with Khevbik on his little... Well, you'll find out.

For refrence, the elevator door opens in the same amount of time as our doors today. It just takes 30 seconds from the time the car stops for someone inside to open the door. Considering that you have to get out of the harness to open the door.

You may want to take some time here to introduce your character. The woman will introduce herself right before the car takes off.

All I can wish you is good "luck."

"The names Elan,don't ask for my last,beacuse I don't know what it is and I don't care what it is." he responded. "And were not dead yet. If you give up before the battle starts,you've already lost." Stepping gingerly over the body's,Elan made his way to the elevator and strapped in.

"Like I said,let's get moving. Anywhere is better than here,even the waiting arms of a energy weapon." The adrenaline was wearing off,and the ministrel could feel the wearyness in his body already. He slipped his hand into the folds of his rags,feeling the crystal for a moment. "By the way" he said,looking over at there female liberator. "What are these crystals anyway?"

"A gift," she said rather darkly, "I should not be the one to tell you about it, I'll save that for a friend." For a brief moment, she could be seen staring blankly ahead, her brow creased in concentration, as if remembering a long-forgotten memory. Then, abruptly, she seemed to snap back to reality and realise that she was surrounded by other people. Her eyes regained a commanding glare as she adjusted her own harness.

As everyone else filed into the elevator and did the same, the doors closed before them. Thick, bulky metal braces came down in front of each person, pressing in on their bodies and tightening to an uncomfortable, but sturdy, level. Something grabbed the back of their necks with a cold mettalic embrace, and held their heads ridged. A padded visor slipped down over the groups' forheads, followed by the vision obscuring helmet, which clamped the skull in place. A mouthgaurd forced entry past your lips invasivly, pushing your teeth apart unwillingly before you realised what it was.

You remembered the whole sensation of the binding from your first trip down. On top of that, you understood the nessecity of such a thing, even before the car was jetisoned upwards, powerful magnets guiding it to the first floor. The g-forces would momentarily be ripping away at your body, pushing you into the floor with such intensity that it had the potential to break bones.. Without the safty measures now in place. It would, if nothing else, be a perfectly smooth ride.

The inner doors finished closing before the outer, the airlock being sealed before the vacume would rip the air out of the compartment. There was a moment of silence, and then a sublte shift backwards as the car was pulled away from the edge of the shaft and centered within the vacume tube. A brief smile of anticipation, though no one else could see it, passed over the womans lips in waiting for the sudden, swift movement. Below you, through the fiber-steel floor, you could hear the crackling of electricity.

"For the sake of introductions, my name is Ariana. It's a pleasure to be rescuing you today," the woman said, a hint of sarcasm in her tone with the last. "I hope you have enjoyed your stay in hell, now have a nice flight."

The next thing your mind could register consited of the following: "Oww..." and a noise that sounded like the ding of a bell. The former was the more overwhelming of the two, your body being pressed into the harness with such force that it drew the breath from your lungs. You were blind to the forces around you, stuck in the darkness of the helmet for what seemed like endless moments. Your chest burned for air, your lungs trying to grasp the last of what oxygen still remained within.

Then it was inversed. Your body pressed up against the top of the restraints, as though your feet were trying to get to your skull by going through the rest of your body. The solid restraints kept you from moving and perhaps saved your life... Keeping you from becoming a pancake upon the roof of the cylinder. When the g-forces were finaly equalized, the restraints released.

Ariana didn't hesitate. She tore out of her bondings and drew her sword, "we need to get out of here fast, if they cut the power, this thing will drop like a rock. Three hundred floors is a long way to fall." That said, she mashed a fist into the "door" button, opening the air lock and letting in the invasive sound of armored boots hitting a concrete floor.

Outside, there was very little to see, save a wall illuminated by spotlights and twisting shadows. Ariana ducked out and around a corner, as if expecting you to follow by instinct. Only the sound of movement and shuffling gave any indication of what awaited around the corner.

(A post will be coming up in the other thread with a layout image.)

Yish calmly exited the elevator, and squinted into the dark areas. Seeing nothing he lit a cigartte as he always did after killing someone.Then Yish leaned up on the wall and thought back to last few days.

As Yish inhaled he felt the memories come...

His captors just came out of nowhere and just grabbed him. After what seemed like hours, they finally got to this Hell they called a prison. He remebered them asking something, exactly what he couldn't rememeber, and after he couldn't give them the answer, they started to toture him. They hit him, they injected him, they put poisonous vipers on him, they burned him, they literally hung him, with his hands bound to the walls and and his feet clamped to the floor. Each time they got to the edge of his death, they stopped and put him back together, just to rip apart again later. They took razors tied together and dragged them slowly over his back until he cried with pain and his blood flowed like a river of red. And if that wasn't enough, they tore his nails off his fingers and toes, and dipped him in a salt bath. Then they took a hammer and repeatedly hit him in the groin with it. Everytime his sores scabbed over, they tore them open with new ones. But the worst of all, is that they burned the mark of the emperor into his lower back. And each day after they re-branded him in the same way. Then their was the food, or the horrible feces that they called food which tasted like his own and someone elses mixed together. And his living quarters, if you could call them that, was filled with other dead corpses, and he swore that one of them was living for a few days. He could still taste the stench when he licked his lips. Indeed this was Hell.

As Yish exhaled the smoke, he coughed from his weakend state. Whatever was out there in the shadows had his deepest sympathy. They were going to regret messing with Yish today. He drew his sword slowly, as if expecting a battle.

"Well, come on. I didn't come this far to die."

Khevbik didnt waste time, the discomforting ride had ended and he wanted off. He stepped out off the elevator with haste; he didn't dare stay in the elevator for another moment. Khevbik took out his pistol and knife and followed Ariana down the hall, slowly, he took his time.

Khevbik could feel the fear seep through him again.

The fear coming and going was starting to get annoying. The fear must of been squeezed out of him during the ride, but was now back, and in full motion, adrenaline pumping through his vains, the shaking, he supposed the involuntary fear was the effect of the torture. Khevbik didnt want to think of the torture, but his mind was swimming more towards the mild memories.

He was lost in the unbearable thoughts.

The needles, there must been a hundred of them in his body at once, piercing his bones and flesh, worse yet they would expand cracking bone and ripping flesh. As if they weren't enough, they would spice things up a bit; they would throw buckets of urine on him and electify the needles for more effect. They rotated their techniques of torture to keep him alive. After taking the needles in for two days, they would switch to physical blows for another two, to let those small wounds heal; then another round of needles and eletricity went. Khevbik couldnt even remember how many times they pulled off this routine, the torture nearly had him in vegetable state, in mind at least. The feeling was certainly there, oh the feeling, the agony.

Khevbik's right shoulder bumped into Ariana as she was looking around the corner. With that action he was back to reality. She didnt seem to notice him as she peered around the corner. Khevbik apologized and moved around her to take a look as well. He thought it was bright enough as it was, but when he looked around the corner it was like looking into three suns, his eyes watered with pain. This was a predicament he thought, the spot lights were blinding their way forward.

"Well damn, the spotlights blind our way, Ariana what is beyond those lights, would you know?"

Khevbik squeezed his weapons, he couldnt wait to put bullets through these men, he would make them pay for the torture. Why did they do this to him? They had swiftly captured him and went right to the torture. They had asked questions but he couldn't remember what they were. Oh well, he thought, Khevbik just wanted to get out of here, and if he had the chance, he would return the favor.

Ariana gasped suddenly and put a solid arm before Khevbik, blocking his path forward. Then, with strength he didn't know she had, she forced him up against the wall next to her and pulled her face away from the edge. Just in time, two bolts of energy about the size of basket balls ripped past the spot where their heads had just been, disappating onto the wall opposite the two.

Her breathing was heavy, the narrowness of the call apparent in her frightened features. It seemed to go against the nature, she had shown them to look as afraid as she was, and after a moment of panting her face hardend back into that resolute figure that they were more used to. For that brief instant, however, she had shown them something more about herself... At least to Khevbik, the only one nearby.

She was human, not the warrior she was posing as.

Her breathing slowed back to a normal pace after a minute or two, and then she realised that she was still pressing her arm against Khevbik's chest. Hastily, she pulled it away, seeming almost embarressed, but at the same time not paying it any heed. After a moment or two, she slid down the wall, away from the edge, and surveyed the men she had before her. They didn't seem like the fighters she needed. Some had experience, but they were too weakened to do much good...

Not to mention their enemy was all but invisible. They couldn't fight into the blinding spotlights. Ariana still had spots before her eyes from the bright light, there was no way they would be able to see past. It would be just waiting for the enemy to come for them, waiting for their numbers to get big enough that they would kill them all with overwhelming force. She was beginning to tire, and though she might have once been able to dodge a sniper's bullet from point blank, her speed was significantly decreased from the trip it took to get here.

Was speed like that even possible? That wasn't even the half of it. Maybe she should tell them the truth now, before death came for them. Who knew how many soldiers were already waiting to send these men to the slaughter? She couldn't take them all on, she knew that for sure. What to do...?

She closed her eyes and hung her head, putting the tips of her index and middle fingers on her temples, rubbing in small circles as she concentrated. There had to be something she could do, some kind of distraction she could create... Time was hers, but could she make it there in time? If they were bunched together, then there was no way, but if they were lined in ranks... Hmm... Was it possible? She let her arms fall to her sides and looked up to the heavens in questioning, as though she was begging them for an answer.

An answer they gave.

A small, deadly smile passed over her lips as she realised what she needed to do, and how to do it. She had both the means for finding out how many men there were and their organization, and creating a diversion to allow them all to escape. Hah! How could it have not been seen before?! But there was no time to waste, she had to put it into action immediatly.

"Stay here!" she commanded, still staring at the ceiling. Then she was gone, a crack like thunder eminating from where she had stood only a half beat ago. An air ripping blow that reverberated off of the ceiling in the wall with perfect acoustics. The sound echoed throughout the room as though lightning had just split next to the group. The endless reprecussions caused you to look up to see exactly what shape of space could reproduce such a thing, and it was then that you noticed you were in a giant dome.

There was a silent pause, the men on the other side of the wall hesitated in their movement, and then a scream ripped out from the brightness. There was another crack of thunder, another scream, a shadow streamed across the light that shown above the wall, a flicker of movement as something passed infront of one of the three points. Crack, scream. Crack, scream. The noises grew in rapidity, the deafening sounds echoing into an angry roar.

A light went out, dimming the area at the edge of the wall, and it was then that you first had the chance to glimpse upon the scene next to you. Peering around the corner, you saw a sort of bunker, lit from the inside, surrounded by dozens of troops on the verge of panick. Inside the concrete box, set low into the ground, you could see silouettes moving about frantically as men around them died. With every crack, a man across the room fell to the ground, a gaping wound opening up on his chest, through the white plating. Gaurds nearby looked on in horror as some invisible force killed and killed again, with every reitteration of the sound.

It was as though the gods were of mind to smite them this day, the panic that ensued. Energy hailed the ceiling, dissapating as it hit some sort of barrier that protected the inside of the dome. There were more deaths, maybe 10 men, though you could no longer count the number of sounds. The whole room shook with the violence of the noise, the cracking escalated to seem as though the entire structure was being torn apart. The other two lights went out with the unheard shattering of glass, and the men started to spread out and duck to the ground as more of their number were slain. The doors to either side of the building were opened up and the gaurds began to rush madly for escape. As they ran for the doors, however, they were only to find that they would be cut down. Several men screamed out at the shear horror of the moment, only to be slain in the next. It was total madness.

Then came the whisper, broken and desperate, said with waning strength, run... It was Ariana's voice, but it was not spoken as as though she as before you, but an echoing in your mind, go... I cannot... hold on... much... m-more.... Go, before... my strength... fails me... the eye is watching... Another wave of men fell and a moment passed before the next message came, head out the closest door... run... straight south... you will come to the forest... there you will... find........ Go!

In the low over head lighting, you could see a fizzling image of Ariana as her movement began to slow. A rain of death and fire followed as she sped along the outside of the clusters of men, darting in to kill one or two before running up the side of the dome. She was moving with incredible speed, the likes of which rivaled anything you had ever seen. But she was slowing down, and while her image was only more than a fleeting blur, it was growing ever more clear. There was little time to waste, whatever power she held was beginning to disappear. And soon, so would the group's escape route...

OOC: Feel free to take down a few gaurds as you go, its all in fun, isn't it? In fact, unload as you make your way to the door if you really wish.

Outside, its nightime. You will pass by several buildings as you make for an opening in the wall thats straight out the door. South is a straight shot out of the door at the bottom of the image that I posted. If nessecary, I will show you an image of the compound.

The buildings are domes for the most part. They're unlit from the outside. The one you're leaving is the biggest of the domes. The others house the gaurds, have the armory, etc. Note that there are other gaurds following you, being woken up by alarms and such.

The forest is not immediatly visible once you leave the south gate. You will have to travel a ways.

Ariana will try to hold off the gaurds from taking you down before you get to the door. She'll also attempt to keep them from blocking your escape route, but if you linger too long she wont be able to hold them off.

I think that should cover most of the rough spots, go ahead and post.

Weakened as he was Ackon was the first one to dash for the door, limping, his grimy and blood encrusted fingernails clutching his weapon. three shots, he could not afford to fire and ducked and turned, zig zagging at times to avoid the fire.

his vision went white for a moment and waves of heat blew against his face- he turned and staggered, putting his hands up instinctively. For that moment that he was not moving he was fired upon dozens of times, forcing him to resume his dash for the exit.

That was it, he was suddenly outside, and to greet him was a heavenly choir indeed. The midnight wind carressed his face and hair, filling his lungs with something truely sweet: air. In the distance the leaves of Ariana's mentioned forest danced melodically and the sound alone was enough to restore his sanity. Ackon buried the pain in his leg and killed his limp. He sprinted, faster then he had ever ran towards the forest, never looking back to see if he still had any allies.

Before Khevbik could notice, Ariana was gone with inhuman speed. The mayhem had commenced and he knew it was time to move his ass. In Khevbik's state of weakness, with his best efforts he tried to run. Khevbik turned to look at the group, he could see some of them following Ackon's lead, as was he. He ran with all his might, painfully he made his way, Khevbik could hear the screams and shreiks from the men behind him; it sent chills up his spine. Ariana was doing a good job of wreaking havoc on them he thought, a smile came across his face. As he exited the dome, he could hear his foot steps and other's running in unison, not looking back, Khevbik made his way to the forest, that laid not far ahead.

How was it that Ariana could move so fast? It didnt make sense, she truly was like the sounds being emitted in the dome. Lightning. The level of technology here was much higher than anything he had seen before, that would explain a lot, if shots from those men could have put holes in the walls like a knife to hot butter, then it could probably make people lightning-fast as well. Khevbik would ask Ariana exaclty how she pulled off the things she did soon, he hoped she was alright, she may be as fast as lightning, but that doesnt make her invincible.

After a short run through a moderately rocky field, the forest came into view. He slowed his pace, it was time to think of other things and enjoy the freedom.

------

Femma... he wondered how long he had been gone without a word, surely she would be worried about him. Luckily she was old enough to take care of herself. He, of course had taught her survival skills and the ways and techniques of an assassin. He had shown her his supply and ammunition contacts, if, for any reason she ran out of ammo and supplies while he was away, she could help herself to whatever she needed. She would have done just fine without him. But nonetheless, he was now worried for her, Khevbik feared for her saftey.

The prodigetic girl was his foster daughter, he had found her wandering the rubbled streets in ragged clothes, dirty in a daze, as though she had nothing to live for. After taking her in, he gave her clothes, fattened her up and gave her a home with him. She loved every moment with him and he felt the same way towards her. In a way, their relationship was more friendly than father and daughter, despite this however, Khevbik always saw Femma as a daughter.

One could see their relationship quite odd. For one thing, Khevbik taught Femma the art of killing, his speciality. He taught the child how to kill, he started her on executing animals like stray dogs then later he would take her on one of his assignments for the real thing. He had her kill animals to get her used to the pain of taken another's life, it was a cruel thing to expose a child to, but her attitude toward death would prove priceless in later years with this training.

------

The air was wet and cool. It had been what seemed like an eternity that he had inhaled such clean air. He wasn't exaclty thrilled to be wandering through the forest in near pitch black conditions, but making distance from hell's pit was very relieving, he wasn't complaining. He pushed Femma out his mind for the time being and swam through the brush forward, not knowing what he should do next.

He was blind from the landscape unfolding around him as he ran. The forest was dead ahead and the last white rays of heat disapated in the distance. For the time being, he had escaped. The black forms of tall trees began to tower up ahead, the brush became thicker around his feet and in the next instnat he plunged into the forest, the darkened sky suddenly disappearing.

Ackon still did not stop, he ran, not knowing where his next step would fall, he was blind to the future and had shut out the past; all that mattered was the present. Soon however, his adrenaline began to ware off and he slowed down, the underbrush and rough terrain affecting him more now. At last he swerved off of his route, stopping a ways off to the left.

behind him he heard steps, running quickly in his direction and he knew instinctively that they were not his enemies. They were frantic, weakened, off beat- it was not a pursuer, but a pursuee. Khevbik soon emerged near Ackon, barely noticing him....
"Hey, Stop!"

He had heard the man yell "stop", but it was too late. In that instant, he ran right into Ackon. Khevbik fell to the ground, with a light thud caught off gaurd by Ackon stopping dead in front of him. For a time, he wanted to just sit there and rest for days on end, but he needed to get as far away as possible from this area. He slowly stood up, aching in his limbs, he moaned.

"That was quite a collision, I think it could have been avoided if you had given some sort of heads up", Khevbik said amused and frustrated at the same time. "Its ok though, at least some of us are rallied together now, it was every man for himself when we all saw the exit. Those bone chilling screams coming from the dome were music to my ears, those bastards deserved it."

Shrogen was now short one expensive club. Who would have known that something costing the equivalent to an entire slum’s inhabitants broke after only a few small impacts with the armored cranium. It was a live and learn type of situation he supposed.

However, he was also short another important item, as they all were: their guide. The final instructions, if he had not imagined them, were scattered and near incomprehensible. However, they were supposed to head due south . . . and that they were, judging by the sun’s position. As for a forest, he supposed this rather large clump of diseased and blackened shrubs constituted. However, the atmosphere, despite still containing more surprises then pure air (which he had only heard about, spoken in whispered tones), was the most sweet he had ever inhaled.

Freedom. He looked back on the stronghold they had escaped from. Then he noticed the increasing amount of light as various search parties prepared to pursue them. Perhaps he could savor it later.

“I think we should keep moving,” he rasped, “it seems we are not quite out of trouble yet.”

He debated internally whether their guide had fallen or the fleeing enemies had decided to make use out of their remaining lifespans. He hoped for the latter. Either way, they had to keep moving.

As Ackon grew accustomed to the outside air it became less sweet, and he guessed that the oxygen giving forest was all that kept the area's air from tasting ashy and stale as it should have in this post-apocolyptic world. Anything however, was better then the putrid gasses that sank and crept through the cavernous metal catacombs of prisons and torture chambers below him like poisonous slime, and that burned the nostrils and drowned the very sense of smell and taste.

He was hunched over, hands on his legs as he panted. "Have you any idea how many of the others survived?" he asked through his exhalations.

"I'm not exactly sure, we'll soon find out though, I hear footsteps nearing us. I'm more worried about our liberator, she was in some intense fighting when we left, I hope shes alright ....."

The feelings he felt for the Ariana were feelings he haddn't felt in a long time. This woman made his heart race, she had a penetrating visage of beauty. He had been in no condition to hit on her earlier, but he would definately try when they all had time to rest. What would he ask her? What would he say to her? Khevbik slightly blushed at the vulgar thoughts streaming in his mind. He would pull some moves on her soon. She just needed to be alive for him to attempt!

"Head out the closest door... run... straight south... you will come to the forest... there you will... find........ Go!"

Yish inhaled the cigarette smoke as he heard these words, not knowing what happened.

It all happened so fast; First, Ariana disappered with lighting speed. Then the guards dropping as if they all were having heart attacks. And now there was an oppurtinty to escape. So Yish had a choice to make: Live up to the name he had been given: The Unforgiver, and help destroy the guards, or do the smart thing and run to the forest.

Yish exhaled, and threw the cigarette down.

The decison took all of three milliseconds.

Yish, his sword already drawn, began to cut down the enemies that were around him.

"Go!"

His hunger for death controlled at the moment, Yish ran outside the door, and into the surrounding area. Yish tripped over himself a couple times, because his legs still didn't have the power to fully function on their own. But what joy the air felt like. Yish almost stopped to breathe in the air for a few mintues just to get rid of the feeling of the stench. This truly was a nightmare.

He saw Khevbik and Ackon standing by each other as he slowed to a stop. Yish shelthed his sword and lit another cigarette.

"Is this all that made it out?"

They heavy footfalls and even heavier breathing followed the group. Bursting throuhg the underbrush came Elan,panting and exshausted already. He feel to the ground,drawing in the ever so sweet air. "I am weaker than I though" he said breathlessly,staring up into the sky.

He knew that they should keep moving,knew that too stay was too die. So,with a will that Elan never knew he possesed,he got to his shaky legs. "Where are we going again?" he asked weakly. The minstrel had not paid attention to the voice in his head,for he had many voices in his head during the stay in Hell.

OOC: *cough*gag*sputter*.... *retch* *cough*.... Yes, I'm sick today! Well, it sucks for me, but do you dont really have to worry about it, I would never miss out on providing you with quality entertainment. Were I on my deathbed, surely I would tell you the rest of the story. That being the case, why delay any further?

IC:

While the little group was stopped, for the moment out of harm's lengthy reach, the sun had begun to rise on the far horizon. It grew, from the thin line of the approaching glow to a semicircle of brilliant white light that was ever becoming more complete. The first rays of sun peirced through the dense forest, revealing that which the escapees may have mistook for something far less wonderful.

Massive trees, the width of cars, sprung forth from the ground and reached up for the heavens, weaving their branches together as they went to form a dense canopy. Lush greenery surrounded the bases of the mammoth trunks in startling variety. The broad leaves of the plants spread over the winding path they appeared to have stopped on, giving shade and hieghtening the concentration of the flowers' fregrances.

One could not look around such a place an not see some form of life. From the outlandish plants to the mysterious animals. Frogs and lizards were in abundance. On a ridge, someone saw a rabbit, its ears twitching in puzzlement as it surveyed the scene before leaping off into the dense foliage. As the sun began to work its way higher into the sky, birds began their harmonious song as they fluttered around in the upper brances of the titanic trees.

For the men, however, it held an ominous presence behind all the wonderous surroundings. Clean fresh air filled their lungs, rejuvenating them with a feeling they would have never achieved in their hometowns, but the back of their minds couldn't trust it. It was all too foriegn. Like they had somehow killed themselves during the run, and then found themselves in a place they might have called heaven... Yet it felt like just another dream that they would soon wake up from.

Worse. They felt watched, like every knot in every tree, every tiny critter or fleeting bird was holding them in an intense glare. True, one familiar with these surroundings might have felt the same way to coming into a city, but there was more to it. Something about the beautiful place that made the hairs on the backs of their necks stand on ridged end.

In the distance, the sound of rushing water could be heard. It might be a good time to stop and rest there, get some fresh water and bathe. The path the escapees were on seemed to run towards the source of the noise, behind them it curved around to head in another direction. They had rushed blindly through a dense, seemingly impenetrable wall of thick brush. Above that, spires of thorny thickets protruded, inspiring wonder that they were not all torn to peices in their haste.

The suits were remembered then, the garb was comfortable, but after the run they dug painfully into open wounds... Most of them torture inflicted. Those torturous-... It took a moment for you to rember that which you have left behind. Ariana could have gotten away, yes, but something didn't sit too well...

-------

THE PRISON
Moments after the departure of the escapees.

Ariana felt the rough hands force her face to the ground. Her hands were bound behind her back, and she had been forced to kneel before this man... This vile abombination of a man. Letting out a cry, she twisted against the forcful grip that held her against the freezing metal. Struggling to break free of the grip that held her down.

Ultimately, her strength had failed her. Far worse then that, so had her resolve. She fought against the ogre of a man, the gaurd, that was now pressing his boot to the base of her spine. Deep in her mind, however, she knew this was a fight she would not win. She knew, down in the core of her being, that it was over.

The hooded man laughed, a sinister high-pitched squeal that reminded Ariana of grinding metal. This fool did not deserve that which he was about to take. He didn't even deserve the attempt. His thin frame was revealed under the garb of his enveloping cloak as he bent over to inspect his prize. A his right hand grabbed the bottom of her chin and angled her face towards him until they were eye to eye.

Satisfied, the thin line of his lips turned up at the corners in amusment, and he muttered in a whisper, "you know, we've been looking all over for you. You naughty, naughty girl. A naugthy girl indeed, darling." He held her head firm as she tried to twist away, out of his grasp. Then he reached up with his other to pull down the hood of his cloak.

He had a lean, angular face that would have looked all to thin upon any other body, but the lithe figure he held suited it well. A pointy, hooked nose held up a pair of blood red spectacles that hid the darkness behind them. He had no real pupil, only the shadow of what was once there, only an inky black orb that shifted around animately. His hair was spiked straight up, the highest tips reaching nearly two inches off his skull. They seemed to glow a firery red, but Ariana could tell it was only dyed. The man obviously took care about his appearance, as foolish as he would have looked were he not already carrying an aura of destruction.

None the less, the power he had at his command was very, very real.

His lips parted, revealing an inhuman maw, lined with night black, razor edged teeth. Subconciously, a whiplike, black, pointed tounge struck out to wet his lips, and to run along the smooth fronts of his upper teeth. He probably wanted to bush again when he got back to the citadel with his capture, before taking her to the Emperor. Sickening, foul creatures they both were.

"Kyle," Ariana hissed in menace, "you forgot something."

A puzzeled look passed over the demon's face, and he glared down at her expectantly, "and, what do you suppose that is, darling?"

There was a short pause. Ariana's eyes locked on the endless pools of despair that the man before her had sold his soul to obtain. She stared into those bottomless black depths, behind the meager curtain of the glasses. For one last time, she wanted to know that he was truely evil, and no longer the person she had once known.

It opened up the final resolve.

Her message was plain and simple, but ended with a bang.

"I'm not your darling, or have you forgotten already?" She spat, a mix of pure fury and bliss plastered onto her expression. The man known as Kyle raised an eyebrow, releasing her chin and standing up. He shrugged and turned away, motioning for the gaurds to pick her up and follow. No one made it more then two steps.

-------

The small group was flung from where they stood, hit by a violent blow. Caught completly off gaurd, they were strewn onto the pathway and knocked to the ground. Wind swept over them in a wave, picking up loads of dust and breaking some of the massive leaves off the plants that lined the path. The birds had stopped their singing to take refuge, and the animals had all skittered into hiding. Good thinking, considering the chunks of thicket that flew over the escapees' heads, smashing into the trunks of trees and falling, in eventuality, to the ground.

It had begun with the pressurization of the air, it suddenly felt thicker then it had a moment ago. And in an instant, a concussion hit the forest as the first concentric wave of the blast reached the edge of the woods. What followed could only be described as chaos, as the vast majority of the wall of foliage the men had passed through on their way into the wooded haven was torn asunder.

Now, however, the forest had calmed again, being scattered with its own destruction. As the group recovered, they regrouped in the middle of the path and considered what had just happened.




OOC: Well... Consider the fact, but dont dwell only on that, think about what your options for progress are, and where you can go. It'll be hard to take any other path besides the one you're already on, but there are two directions you can go. I wont tell you where they go, and you'll have to decide for yourselves which to take.

The barrier that has protected the forest has been breeched by whatever just happened. Yes, it was probably Ariana's doing, seeing as the waves were radiating out from the direction of the prison. But what trouble will it cause? Heh, you'll find out.

The wind was knocked out of him when he hit the ground, he gasped for air. What a thing to happen. This sick dream was getting more confusing by the moment, his unforgiving torture, the sudden escape, Ariana's uncanny movements, and now the way the air had been behaving the previous moment, the weirdest part of this all, this dream was real, and that bothered Khevbik. His concern grew for Ariana, but somehow, he knew she was alright.

Still grasping for air that came short for the first few breaths from the fall, he stood up. The pain from the tortures were still present in his nerves, and so was the weakness. He needed a good rest, him and the group were far enough he felt, that stopping for an hour or so wouldn't cause them harm. He made up his mind, he would head towards the sound of water.

The thought of a cold bath in the river sounded like a great idea. His body stank of bodily waste and blood, and he wasn't looking too clean either, he really needed a bath. He would need a drink as well, he felt lightheaded and figured he was dehydrated, thats probably why he still felt the swashing weakness. He would feel replenished after a bath and drink. Afterwards he could worry some more about what he should do next.

"Well fellas, I dont know about you, but I'm on my way to the sound of the water, I need to rehydrate and take a bath.", Khevbik announced. "If you follow my example you'll probably feel much better, you sure don't look all that too great. But you can follow that other trail if you like, no telling when you'll find another chance at a river bank, but you might make due without decent rest and water; maybe."

The cigarette went out on its own in the middle of Yish's inhale like a light during a power outage.

"What the--?"

'Crack!'

The next Yish knew he was on his back.

As he was out cold, Yish felt the dreams coming again.

"Come to us Lord Kuppor... Come to us..."

He heard in a voice that sounded like death itself. They were getting closer... He had to fight them off, keep them away. Where was his sword? It wasn't where he left it.... Oh well...it was too late, they were on top of him like wolves on a poor bear cub. This was it, they finally had come for him....

"If you follow my example you'll probably feel much better, you sure don't look all that too great. But you can follow that other trail if you like, no telling when you'll find another chance at a river bank,"

Yish sat up. He was in the forest, not with the----

but you might make due without decent rest and water; maybe."

Khevbik had spoken and began to make his way towards the sound of rushing water. Yish had to choke back the feeling of the dream and focus on getting up.


The pain hit him like a anvil from 100 feet high. His legs had given everything they had left and they were no longer responding to his despite his dire attemps at moving them.
Wait, no, it was just one of them, he could move the other, but why wasn't this one moving? He moved it around with his hands to find that it was out of socket.

'Crack' Yish snapped it back into place, and twisted it like it was made of clay. The pain slowly disappered as boiling water cools.

"Ahh thats better..." Yish said as he stood up, still dizzy from the torture and now from this werid shockwave that had come from the place.

Yish picked up he unlit cigarette from the ground and relit it, causing him to cough from the weakness of his lungs. Maybe cold water would help him get back to normal, Yish though. Well, it was worth a shot.


"...Wait up Khevbik, I think I need that bath."

The group pushes their way ahead along the forest path, the majority of them seeming to be of a like mind to Khevbik. As they traveled around the twisting bends of this natural vien, they began to notice an increase in elevation. The slop gradually became steeper until it was difficult to climb, and the drit began to give way to rock and gravel. The going became difficult in some places, the escapees- tired, weary, and deserving rest- being forced to climb or shimmy across thin ledges and outcroppings of rock.

As they moved, the sound of rushing water began to grow louder, and with it, the prospects of a bath and warm fire. As they began to move vertically up what seemed to be a rather large hill from a distance, the realised that the deafening roar must be a waterfall. When they reached the top, they knew they had been right.

Cresting a ridge, they found themselves atop a large plateau. A distance away, was a small lake, bubbling water coming up in torrents from the middle, as though it was being propelled upward from beneath. That connected to a river, which snaked its way lazily towards the group, and eventually passing right by them and going on down a little ways. The water could be seen frothing over at a ledge, where it dropped off sharply and sent a brilliant cascade of water down below. There, it met another lake, which it eagerly filled and poured out into another small creek, that was only visible until it went around a corner and was obscured by another of the humonguous trees.

Up the river a short distance was a suitable resting spot, with a place to bathe. (Not all of your characters are accustomed to forests and the wilderness in general, so it may be hard to discern) There are moss covered boulders nearby there that would be suitable for sitting, and tinder is obviously in heavy abundance. Its also situated right on the river, making it easy to wash the suits and clean wounds in the pure, flowing waters.

-------

High above, swiftly dodging from tree to tree, many sets of eyes peer down on the unsuspecting group, watching and waiting. Observing. Questioning. Preparing.

Through the entire journey, Ryan remained a good distance from the rest of the group. The comforting weight of the radio set in his pocket was a constant reminder that his escape had already been made, that freedom would be his as soon as he wanted it. But that confidence only reinforced his curiousity. In a dream as strange as this one, and with double assurance of his survival, why not watch his companions and see what happened?

And so he followed, using the abundant cover provided by the forest to observe without attracting any attention. When the shockwave of the explosion came, he felt a bit of guilt for his rescuer. In the escape, he had run without firing, trusting her plan. If he had known it would end in death for her, perhaps the risk of his dream-self's life would have been acceptable?

But no, that was the past. Ahead was a temporary sanctuary, a welcome sight after the tiring escape. As the rest of the group spread out to make use of the discovery, Ryan found a high spot to watch from. Even in the safety of a dream, his instincts wouldn't let him relax until he was sure there were no threats.

As Ryan moved into a more secrative position, so too did the eyes that followed. It was no large matter to make themselves blend with the surrounding leaves and branches, nor to conceal the sound of their movements. They doubted, however, that he would notice them... Still, they thought it better to be save, and dissapeared to the naked, and in most cases aided, eye.

Soon...

"This is too convient..." though Elan,stumbling into the seemigly pre-made camp. The though was quickly dissmissed,with Elan's wearyness overpowering his suspicion. Tumbling to the ground,he fumbled with his Katar's,finally extrating them from his rags and laying them down beside him in the grass. After the task was complete,he gave in too exaustion,falling into a deep slumber.

(Removed)

"Come to us Lord Kuppor, Come to us."

Yish heard them now in his wake.

He didn't exactly know, who, or what, the voices were, but he certainly did know where he knew them from. They were from---wait no, he didn't know who they were, or even who Lord Kuppor was. Maybe it was him--- no wait, what was his last name again?

Yish felt as dizzy from the last few hours as a child would have from the tilt-a-whirl fifty times in a row, so dizzy, he fell right into the water.

The sound of the explosion was still ringing in his ears as Ackon stopped, still within the trees. Many of his companions had simply collapsed at the water's edge, or were stiing, exhausted anyway. He waited a moment, observing, before he emerged into their chosen camp.

He arranged several logs on the ground, with various kindling- unsure of how long they would be staying here. His thumb sparked the ancient lighter (ancient style, i mean) and brought the perfect, swaying flame to the dry leaves in his gloved hand. Ackon lit them and pressed them beneath his kindling, eventually the fire was up and he had a place to warm his hands in the chilly night air.

If he saw another rabbit he would be down to two bullets and one delicious meal.

OOC: I would like to make note that this was a time to flesh out your character. Its odd how in combat, even when you're not directly in controll of the action, you can post good solid posts--yet when I give you control, I get two paragraphs and your character falls asleep. Meh, what am I to do? Progress, and we'll see what happens next time.

By the way, Peregrine has been telling me that I haven't been clear enough on certain details, in some respects, he's right. First off, the forest itself is of mythical rarity. People who live in the cities dream of one day seeing trees, much less the massive ones that now stand before you. Think of newyork in Feb. when the sky is grey ALL THE TIME, destroy most of the buildings, remove all the nice landscaping, add rats, and you've got something close to what your character would be used to (see my post on technology in the other thread for more details on related issues).

What you have before you is incredibly magnificent to your character's eyes. The beauty they have never seen the likes of. The water is cleaner than anything they've ever tasted, much less bathed in, and the concept of warm fire would be thought of, to them, as a barrel with flaming newspapers in it. What I expected was something from you, that reflected at least the fact that you've been sitting in filth for a month, and you may have wanted to take time to have a bath unlike any you would have ever had before.

Also, while you didn't have to have your character say anything to anyone else, there was opportunity here to reflect, to have your charcter think about your past and their future. To bring out the character traits that you want them to have in the way their thoughts work. Thrin is a good example, at least the older posts in the first RP thread. Take a look at them if you get the chance. Other people have had some great things happen with their characters too, you should take a look for inspiration. Another good place to look for these sorts of things would be in a fantasy novel. Doesn't have to be a new one, books you've read might be easier to look at for examples, since you already know what sections to look in. Be creative! Thats what this time was for.

I saw a lot of it wasted.

So without further hesitation, your time is up. My time has once again begun.

IC:
For those of the group that had yet to fall asleep, they felt a sudden twitch of pain against their temple before slipping to the ground. They had all passed out before their heads rested against the earth. There was no time to think about it. Even Peregrine, from his vantage point, had been disabled. His vision tunneled before he knew what was happening, and he was dragged over to where the rest of the men lay on the cool earth.

When next the group had awoken, they each found themselves lying on something soft and comfortable. Without opening their eyes, they rolled over lazily and pressed their faces into something soft, like a cloud, but they didn't know what it was. For the first time in months, they hadn't felt so good, but all they wanted to do was sleep some more...

"Master, sir, please wake up.." came a soft female voice, and you felt a gentle hand shake your shoulder. "Sir, please, the grandmaster will be expecting you soon. You mustn't be late for the grandmaster." There was urgency in the woman's voice, behind a giggle as she shook you a little harder. Soon, she had jostled you enough awake for you to open your eyes. Brightness flooded in through an open window, cascading on to a floor made of some kind of speckled white stone (OOC: Marble).

In the middle of that stone, centered in front of the window from the edge of what you were on, was an emblem in the same type of stone, but it was black instead of white. It was surprisingly familiar, but you couldn't remember from where... It was comrpised of an outer circle, with an off center oval that ran from one side to the other and surrounded by squiggly lines. In the middle of the oval was a large round circle, filled in completly with the black stone, around that, lining the inside edge of the oval like teeth line a mouth, were triangles that projected inward, towards the circle... Where had you seen it before?

It was too familiar to you, something you had forgotten that was always a part of your life...

Thats right! The symbol tattooed on your right hand. You had seen it somewhere else recently... Some time in haste. But this time, recollection did not come to you. Oh well, it wasn't that important, you supposed.

"Please sir, get dressed," the woman said, noticing your eyes open. You didn't have a chance to get a good look at her before she moved to the corner of the room. "I'll be back soon with your breakfast, please be decent before I arrive again!" she said quickly, and then, not waiting for a response, she was gone.

You propped yourself up on your elbows and rubbed the sleep from your eyes. Noticing then that you were lying in something you had not seen for--ever actually. You had never seen this place, or this "bed", before, but somehow it all seemed so familiar. As though you had been out of place for the whole of your life, and now you were... home.

You stood up, realising then that the entire room was made out of the white stone, even the bed, though the other funiture was made from a dark wood. There was a desk and a dresser, each with large drawers that rolled out instead of slid. They had bright brass handles and looked brand new. The desk had sheets of white paper on it, and several pens arrayed out for writing.

Next to it was something that resembled a T.V. that you had once seen a man with, but it sat up on a small platform and was thin. The screen depressed and spread colors around as you touched it, the mans screen had been hard glass, not this new substance. Something about the colors told you that you shouldn't push the screen like that again, and you contented yourself to looking around the desk more. In a long drawer over a space where a chair sat, there was a plastic apparatus with a bunch of buttons on it. The plastic was black, and each of the buttons had a white letter, number, or symbol printed on it. Pushing one of the buttons produced no result.

Inside a cabinet, next to the space for the chair, there was a tall, rectagular object made out of metal. It was about eight inches wide, with a large button on the front, and several square pannels, each with a tiny button underneath it. Curiosity promted you to push the button on the strange object, but the logical part of your mind told you not to touch anything in this room, because it likely came with a heavy price. (OOC: If you have yet to identify the object, its a computer, and you dont know how to work it.)

In a quest for clothing now, you turned towards the dresser, but on the way, you caught a glimpse of yourself in a full-length mirrior. What you saw was startling. Your skin was completly healed, no longer having a yellowish tint, but being lively and pink. Your hair looked as though it had been smoothed with oils, and your muscles looked a bit more toned then they had before you went to prison. You were only wearing a pair of long pajama pants, so it was easy to tell about something a bit more disturbing. Your right hand looked different.

Not the hand itself, but the tattoo. It looked as if vines had started to sprout from the mouth-eye. They were twisting across your flesh, running partway down your fingers and your forarm. It seemed as though they had grown, like the symbol was alive and was now trying to take over your body with its influence. What could have done this? You began to look at the room with a bit more suspicion, your brain taking control of the situation instead of foolish, half sleeping whims.

Where were you? How did you get there? Why were you brought there? What's the connection to the tattoo? Questions barraged your mind in a vicious volley. Can I trust these people? Who was the woman that was just in here? Did she say breakfast? You spun around slowly looking for answers, all you found were more questions.

Why are there no doors in this room?!

It ws true, there was no doors whatsoever, only the window, and the woman that was just in there left in the opposite direction. There was no grating of stone, and no crease in the stone besides, that would give away the use of a secret passage. Unbidden, your body moved to the window to peer out in the sunlight. The image that lay before you was both alien to your mind, wonderous, and fearful.

You must have been up ten stories, peering out over a vast estate set within a section of the woods. You could barely see over the tops of some of the trees here, despite the high vantage point, but it was easy to tell you were deep into the forest. Below you was an open courtyard to the massive building you were currently in, paved with what was likely the same stone that your room, and the rest of the building, had been constructed from. Other buildings rose out of the ground around a cicular plaza, in which people were buzzing around busily. It was like a grand city, seemingly carved out of the same peice of massive stone. Nothing had seams, yet everything was detailed to a pristine, almost inhuman detail. Technology, you assumed had created this... But how?

Your mind made a mental note that the emblem, the mouth-eye, was drawn in black stone on the face of the plaza below. The size of it, you guessed, would be about a city block. People had been moving around to different little objects, carts maybe, where they were doing something you couldn't tell from this height. You also noticed that at the corners of your peripherals, people seemed to *pop* out of existance.

A sudden voice from behind you made your heart leap. "Master, I brought your breakfast. I hope you like sausage and eggs. I'll be back in ten minutes to take you to the grandmaster's hall. Be ready by then!"

When you spun upon the voice, the woman was already gone. How you could only imagine. On the dresser, two things caught your eye. A plate of fresh, steaming hot food, the likes of which you had never seen before (both the type of food, and the fact that it's FRESH). A heaping pile of eggs covered with melted cheese took up a whole section of the large platter, acompanied by a heavy mound of thick, meaty sausage links and half a dozen strips of bacon. There was also a bowl of something that looked like soup, and a thick loaf of warm bread. Next to the platter was a set of clothes. On top of those were your weapons, polished and tuned. Blades had been sharpened, guns had been cleaned, but lay unloaded. The ammunition was beside them.

For the moment, your stomach was pleading for the bountiful food, thinking it well deserved after a long month of next to nothing. You hadn't eaten the previous day, nor the day before... In fact, it was hard to remember the last time you had eaten. Within moments you had already made a sizable dent into the food, somehow knowing without knowing that it was genuinly good for you. There would be no poison, no sudden death, no unstoppable wave of bowel movements in the middle of the night, only the food in your stomach. The first bite was bliss.

As you ate, you thought about your surroundings some more. The grandure was stunning to the point of detatchment, and you saw everything around you with interest without really bothering to wonder at it. Who was the Grandmaster? you mulled over a bite of the bread, dipped in the spicy soup, What does he want with me? Nothing made sense now, this woman talked to you as if she knew you, she woke you up for this meeting like one of those people that the Clans had... What were they again? Mamers? Nimids? Maids! Thats it, they were Maids! She must be one of them, but then that means that this is a clan... Which means the Grandmaster must be the leader... But why would he want me? Why did I have the tattoo of their symbol?!

After you had eaten, you examined the clothes. They looked nothing like what you usually wore. A black silk shirt with strange markings on it, and a pair of dark pants. There was also a pair of sturdy boots on the floor next to the mirrior, and a brown, eveloping cloak hanging over it. Once you had the cloak on, you realised it had the same symbol, the mouth-eye, drawn on the back in black.

You took a good look at yourself in the mirrior. The man staring back was unrecognizable except for the face. The clothes fit perfectly however, and they were insanely comfortable. They fit you like a glove. There was little time for admiration of your own figure, though, as the lady abruptly tapped you on the shoulder, catching you off gaurd a second time. "Oh, sorry. Its time to go, do you have everything?"

-------

You reached for your weapons and took her hand as she had said to do a moment ago. Equiped and finally ready to leave, you followed her to the corner of the room, where the walls met. More like you were draged to the corner, and then suddenly there wasn't a corner before you anymore, only a grand room larger then any you could have possibly imagined before.

Beside you now, you noticed, were the other men that had left with you the day you escaped the prison. They were all arrayed in the same atire. You were standing on a thick white carpet at the entranceway to a circular room, that somewhat reminded you of the courtyard you saw from the room. Before you, a rather plump old man sat, dressed in white, upon a throne of the black stone. Everything else in the room was white, save for the same emblem that was everywhere on the carpet, the open maw eating an eye... Or was it an eye that looked like an open maw? Either way, you knew that you bore the same symbol on your right forarm, and you had some questions to ask.

For instance, how did you get here? Nothing made sense, one minute your out in the forest, sleeping away your miseries, and the next you wake up in a white room, surrounded by all this! What was the meaning of this?! Why were you here?! Someone seriously needed to explain themselves, might as well be the Grandmaster!

You were urged across the carpet towards the king by an invisible hand behind you. Each step was taken cautiously, one after another. Men stared at you with purpose and intent from either side of the carpeted walkway, each dressed in black, simmilarly to you, but not bearing robes. The all stood up striaght and tall, as though this was thier element, where they had the most influence. It would be hard to disprove the matter.

Standing before the Grandmaster, you locked eyes with him for a moment. What the hell is this?! Your mind screamed, burning for answers. The Grandmaster responded to the unspoken question without in an unexpected way. He smiled.

"Welcome home!" He rumbled, his eyes turning into slits with the broad grin he gave you, the corners of his eyes crinkling up like folded cloth. The entire room roared in echo, sound building in the round room. White hair and a beard framed bushy eyebrows that overshadowed deep grey eyes and at one time angular features. His clothes were simpler than the others in the room, not bearing marks or symbols. His shirt was longsleeved, and he wore gloves on his hands... As you suddely noticed everyone else did as well. His next words brought a sort of release.

"I'm sure you have questions," he began after the cheering had quieted a bit, "go ahead and ask, but remember, I have only the right answers for the right questions..."


OOC: Yes, it seems like something just happened, but you dont know what or why... Maybe you should ask about that! Go ahead, ask the NPC anything you like, say whatever you will, but stay in character. If you are extremly confused, dont worry, you are exactly where you need to be.

Just ask questions. Thats all you have to do. But remember, if I can take a whole paragraph to talk about a pair of pants and in the same thing make a nice long post that encompases about 10-20 seconds of gametime, there should not be a problem with writing something at least half decent. (Yes, I did this in ANP)

Also note, you can ask him whatever the hell you want, but you cannot determine his responses.

If you wish to initiate combat, from now until I say so, it applies as boss combat. You will type your action, and I will determin the response. No called shots. You cant say, "stabs towards the neck" bu