The Mad God's Masque and Bellicose Ball (IC) (M)

[Lisky]

Baseel's eyes narrowed at the mention of the Masque.  He knew of it... it had been the source of the strangeness.  However, with the flurry of activity, he let the lord half take over before the warrior half started splitting skulls.  He turned his attention to the human first.  "Apologies for the distraction, i've been a bit jumpy lately... and unexpected people in odd places have this habit of making me feel uncomfortable.  Please, lead the way."

Turning to the ringtail and his follower, the demon replied, "I have heard of the Scarlet Masque... however, it would be most appreciated if we could continue this conversation on the move.  Our recent acquaintance has agreed to help us find somewhere where there might be food... or, at least, somewhere that isn't the middle of a strange forest."

He moved back towards the human.  The oddity of him made him feel dangerous, more-so than the dapper fellow and the quiet girl.  Baseel kept the spell collected at his finger-tips with the shield.  If it came to blows, he's need to be fast, and ready.  A lifetime of being assaulted by adventurers at inconvenient times had left the demon with a healthy appreciation of just how much a few fractions of a second could matter.

[Cogidubnus]

[Which one do you want, Madboy?] The incubus looked at Mal, his mouth unmoving. The sun reflected from his eyes, although he did not blink. [Perhaps you wonder why I smile?]

The incubus did smile, a grisly, sick expression, full of teeth and guile. [I smile because I fine a blessing unasked-for, but long hoped for. I smile along with every vampire, buried under tons of earth, who hears the sound of scraping shovels. I smile because I have, suddenly, another chance.]

"Reraise." the incubus said, putting three pebbles, a particularly shiny rock, and a bottlecap into the pot. A few people groaned.

* * *

As he was being dredged from the Depths, Karazkt saw something.

A city, beneath the waves, far, far down. Pale, incandescent things walked the streets, things in the shape of people, and the city itself appeared dead.

* * *

The sphere rushed at Rynkura, diving slightly into the water as it did so, and accelerating. Waves bucked from its wake as it displaced water, showing that the creature was immensely strong. It formed a single tentacle as it rushed at her, thin and whiplike, and once again opened it's single, hideous eye. The runes etched there glowed a dark, bloody red.

Rynkura had about ten seconds before the creature reached her.

* * *

Isul'yate's stomach growled again. "Can this wait?" she said suddenly, looking at the demon dog and back at the bacon sizzling on the grill. "Nobody is chasing us right now, and I could use a break after running all this way. Her eyes were narrowed in annoyance.

Kiet'Jaer could hear the sound of carriage wheels in the distance. Perhaps the lake wasn't too far from here after all.

[Mel Dragonkitty]

Mel frowned a bit. "I doubt you are a figment of my imagination. I would never imagine my grandfather in an ugly suit. Or with a cane, or at least one that was not enchanted 12 different ways into a weapon. And my grandfather would never mention trophy-taking, for obvious reasons. Someone else's hand is in this."

[Lisky]

Baseel placed an arm over his bare midsection, just below the ribcage, then bowed.  His long hair, tied together with silver rings, jingled as the long cables tumbled over and around shoulders.  His wings twitched just slightly and his ears tweaked slightly, laying a bit wider and flatter as he rose back up. He kept his tone polite, slightly sweetened with that little bit of humility his father had taught him,  "Milady, it is not i who you should be asking, but the gentleman who has so kindly offered to take us out of this place.  It is his camp, and the smell of his meal.  There -may- be food where we're going... but there is nothing here but grease and gristle."

The demon's wings twitched again.  He didn't like her eyes narrowed as they were.  Sign of hostility, sign that she might react violently, and a sign to keep attentions tuned to her for now.  He very slowly walked around, and altered his position so as to interpose more of the shield between himself and the pair that had just shown up.

[techmaster-glitch]

Dragged to shore

  As Karazkt continued reganing his senses, he looked down through the edge of the mech's infravision-transparent dome, and through the water. Far below, he saw things...strange things that he could scarcely identify. The colors were all wrong in his vision, it was certainly unnatural...but as he continued focusing, even as the mech got further and further away, he started to make out lines, and the lines looked almost like....a city layout?
  The mech broke the surface of the water as the magic tendril deposited the massive machine on semi-dry land. Karazkt started hitting his controls instictively, and the heavily damaged and deactivated mech, running on vestiges of stored pressure with the boiler off, practically crawled on a hand and legs towards his rescuer....his surrogate Queen. That alone was most unusual, but Karazkt didn't have the mental faculties to untangle this situation. Instead, he took stock of the mech, and determined that the right arm of the mech was useless, almost totally wrenched off the mech from the impact with the water. Water still flooded the internals, but was rapidly draining away with the mech no longer underwater.
  His Queen was saying something...telling him to hide? As he continued look at Rynkura through the metal dome, he saw that she was undergoing a change...an incredibel change. He magic forming around her as she grew great wings. It was an impressive spectacle, one that Karazkt could have appreciated more if he wasn't still somewhat disoriented, but he then turned his head in the direction she was looking...
  And saw something that made his carapace itch fiercely. He didn't know what it was, or where it came from....all he could tell was that it was a hazard of some kind. A hazard that was near his Queen. Surrogate Queen, but a Queen nontheless.
  Especially as it continued to move closer.
  No. Unacceptable.
  Despite the mech's damaged state, Karazkt's instincts immediately kicked in. He pushed his antennae into the cockpit intake ports and pushed fire magic through one, and earth magic through the other. The enchantment in the boiler reactivated, and the mech steamed back to life.
  Rynkura heard Karazk'ts voice from the mech, from under the featureless orange-brown metal dome. "N-no...Kween in danger...Kween muzT ezKape! MuzT proTeKT Kween!"
  The mech's good left arm drove into the ground in between it and Rynkura, releasing the earth magic Karazkt was building up. A sudden wall of rock sprang up, separating Rynkura from both the eye-thing and Karazkt. The mech then jerkily turned towards the approaching eye thing. Karazkt fed more fire magic into the mech. "ThreaT muzT noT reach Kween..."
 

[Boog]

Bal gave a low whistle. "Rich man, heh?" He matched the bet, raising it no further, mulling over the fellow's words. It was a fine thought, and all things considered he believed he'd gotten a good deal for it. "You play much before?"
Cab glanced at Bal briefly, wondering what he was up to. Nex seemed entirely focused on her own hand.

--

Jeremiah nervously ruffled at his coat. Underneath it, he was still wearing the serving livery of the Masque. The further this conversation went on, the more he worried that could be a Distinctly Bad Thing. Fretting and distracted, he finally focused on an issue more immediate. He turned back to the human.
"You mean it about sharing that bacon? Because if you do lets sit down and handle all the introductions AFTER we eat, because I'm starved and full people are more polite anyway."

[Cogidubnus]

 Something strange happened. Unprecedented.

A mech - a construct of iron and copper, metal and fittings, is simply a very complex machine. It cannot try harder, grow larger, or become more than it was before. It is designed with limits, and it cannot exceed them no matter how much the operator wishes it could. When it breaks, it is broken. Iron is iron.

But, sometimes, Iron is not just Iron.

Karazkt's Mech, despite grievous damage, groaned to life. Lifeless eyes, made of lifeless rock, blossomed with a inner flame, the barest flicker of cinder that grew like a a drop of blood in a pool of water. The small insect poured power and fire into his machine's mechanisms. But now, the small and nervous insect was pouring something even yet more important than mere power into the diggermech.
He poured his heart.

The diggermech stumbled to it's feet. Pistons pumped, slowly at first and then faster. Steam that normally wisped up from exhaust tubes poured forth like black thunderheads. The diggermech's drills whirred to life, spinning faster and faster - glowing red hot, white, and then finally an strange, iridescent green.
The Shoggoth, for that was what the creature truly was, sped across the water like a missile, it's wake at least as tall as the mech itself. With incredible speed, the round blackness slammed into the readied machine. The air cracked with thunder as they met. The diggermech's heels dug into the dirt, leaving a deep gash in the ground. The Shoggoth kept pushing. The Mech pushed back. Slowly they ground to a halt.
And, gradually, the mech began to push the Shoggoth back. One step at a time, pushing through the sound of creaking metal and screaming gears, Karazkt was pushing the Shoggoth -back-.

The eyes of the Diggermech glowed, from deep within, a bright, emerald green.

* * *

Her wings spread wide to catch the wind that did not blow in the deep underground, her feathers ruffled instead with the wind of the approach of the Shoggoth, Rynkura felt the subtle stirrings of something.
Luminous barrier in place, a honeycomb of bright silver and deep gold, floating above the ground - dressed in the regal gown of her station, both white and flowered red, and the power of the summoned divine power in her manifesting as a pale white glow, and a ring of light above her head, she appeared as the very Queen of Heaven.

She had the time she needed. The creature was, for the moment, stopped by the brave intervention of the insectis.

* * *

The old man gave Bal an irritated look, and tapped his cards on the table. "Yes. I am an incubus. Gambling is laughably simple for us. A spike of excitement? Despair? Elation? Who needs to cheat when you can ride your opponent's emotions. Always works."

He paused. "Except once. Played against a demon who thought he was some sort of movie star. Showed up in a white suit and hat, smoked the whole time, never said a word he didn't have to. No magic, of course, wasn't allowed - bastard didn't need it. He was absolute ice. Absolute iron. No emotion whatsoever, the entire time. Beat me on a god-damned inside straight. The man could have been a paladin with self-control like that. Instead he cleaned me out. Didn't gamble much after that."

* * *

The lioness looked at the viking shepherd with irritation, and opened her mouth when her stomach growled. Her expression changed to anger, and then to sadness.
Her eyes darted behind Bask. Someone else was standing there, learning against a giant tree- a wolf, wearing all black and silver, and carrying a sword. His grin was savage.

* * *

"No, no, I am, I promise." Melodie's grandfather said, giving her a laugh as they descended the lift. "I did have this suit - I wore it at your graduation to the university - it fit me better then, when my middle-aged spread wasn't quite so spread. And I have as many enchantments as you think I have - or more. The subconcious is an interesting thing."

They walked to his office - a warm, humid breeze pouring out of the door as he opened it. His receptionist, a lynx not even wearing a jacket, waved at them both before they proceeded into the interior office.
The whole place was a greenhouse. Tropical flowers, clearly grown with care, blossomed everywhere. Howell took the time to smell one before turning back to Melodie.
"Escape is the key. This is a collective dream, you see. You need to find the others. The more dreamers in one place, the greater likelihood that inconsistencies will arise. Inconsistencies allow for escape. But there is only so much time before you become a figment of dream yourself. Your real body isn't here, but it is still somewhere, after all. Without it, returning to the real world becomes much more difficult."

[Lisky]

It didn't take a cubi to read the very sudden change in emotions and the shift of eyes.  The demon rather quickly whipped his entire defense around to put the shield between himself and whatever had changed the girl's mind.  Strangers popping up behind him... why could they never show up in front... it was so much easier to trust someone if they were actually looking you in the face when you first met. Instead, here was someone else, literally crawling out of the woods, just behind him.  This... Place... Sucks... That was a pretty clear mental image, as the demon went from defensive stance behind the shield, to a combat stance.  He held a ball of arcane energy behind the shield, a powerful paralysis spell meant to temporarily cripple an opponent.  Very useful when killing isn't the real answer, but force becomes necessary.

He turned towards the wolf, aggravation seeping out of his posture.  Ears lowered, head lowered, teeth bared in a feral growl.  His right hand held the large battleaxe, his left was concealed by the large shield which protected most of the demon's body, both had white-knuckled grips.   "Why can no one announce their presence?! Is a little pleasant formality too much to ask?!"  His wings were half-extended behind the Demonic Alsatian,  his skin hardened to the point of acting like armor.  His eyes locked onto the vicious smile of the swordsman.  Baseel barked,  "Just who are you, and why are you here?"

[Azlan]

Kiet took the answers in stride, not recognizing any of these people from the ball itself, the answers were hopeful, "I myself was at the ball until some interesting things occurred and we were mostly all tossed into this group coma.  I'm hoping to get back soon, I think there is a mad god that needs to be slay..."

The ringtail noticed the sinister wolf behind the demon and focused a bit of attention on him before checking the areas around them for any possible other surprise guests.  He kept himself at the ready.

[Aisha deCabre]

...Oh Gods damn it to bloody flippin' hell...

Rynkura, not really one for avid cursing even in her mind, wasn't in such a mood to keep her edicts at bay.  There they were--relieved though she was that the Insectis hadn't been hurt--in this watery underground prison with a rather moody and speedy beast to contend with.  As her wings kept her aloft, magic coursing along her body and illuminating a large radius around her, she had to hold her magic back as Karazkt ever so foolishly leaped in to block the ebony sphere with a resounding no, as far as she'd heard.

The tigress was about to voice her complaints...after all, she was the Healer here, and the one with hopefully the greater magic power.  But one couldn't fault the Insectis in its protective instincts...still, she wasn't about to let the Creature within the metal beast die for her sake.

Then, suddenly before her, she saw an interesting thing happen; the mech didn't just seem like a machine.  It seemed like a living and fighting being, with its master as its heart.  The monster slammed into it...and was stopped.

The white angel wasn't at all adverse to the showing of an opportunity...hopeful though she was that Karazkt wouldn't be hurt also with her next maneuver.

With her eyes like glowing emerald beacons, she raised an arm that crackled the air with the force all around it, and let loose a grand white beam of light...whether holy or electric in nature, one couldn't tell, for it seemed to be both...to hopefully strike and incapacitate the giant eye...even if it only left just enough time for her to take the both of them out of that cavern.

[techmaster-glitch]

   Karazkt was hardly in control of his diggermech anymore.
  Or, for that matter, himself.
  The Insectis poured earth and fire magic into his mech without restraint, more and more, heedless of consequences. His mind was not resgistering any concious thought, he was just acting. The image of his "Queen" was still in his head, and....somehow, enhanced. Karazkt couldn't think of anything else. This was far beyond any programmed instinct he had. This was unimaginable.
  The metal of the diggermech shrieked at the dangerous overflow of energy, shrill whistles emitting from every vent, as it grappled with the eye-thing and pushed it back. And as this happened...the mech took on a strange life of it's own.
  Karazkt pouring in another blast of magic, wildly yanking levers. As the mech grappled with Shoggoth, the good arm pulled back, then struck forward--and in a brown-green flash, a chunk of earth pulled itself out of the ground and slammed forward with the arm with terrific force.
  Karazkt was speaking his own language now, a barely-audible orchestra of clicking and buzzing under the cacophany of the fight.
  "I am a creature of EARTH!""
  He fed another burst of magic in, and the mech's other arm eupted in flames, a sickly green-red as it pressed against the eye.
  "I am a creature of FIRE!"
  The mech pushed the Shoggoth back more.
  "You are neither!"
  The mech continued on, step by step, as it repeatedly slugged the Shoggoth with the one earth-encrusted arm pushed it with the fire-enveloped one.
  "You will be crushed!"
  Karazkt fed another burst of magic in, this one the largest he had yet. The mech then was completely engulfed in the green-red flames.
  "YOU WILL BURN!"
  And at that moment, Rynkura's attack connected as well.


(OOC, since the OOC thread is locked; Since you seem to be going with this as being Karazkt's big personal "crazy-moment" Cog, I'm just rolling with it )

[Boog]

Bal nodded, soaking up what the man had to say. "Hrm, movie star, huh..." He stood up, setting his cards down flat, "One sec gents, I'm just gonna refill my drink. Guard my hand, will ya fella?" He stepped away, ignoring the scuffling sounds of people reaching for his cards.
There hadn't really been a bar there a second ago, but now that there was there always had been, complete with a generic jovial bald man cleaning a glass. He asked for a whiskey sour and examined the glass.
I have no brain cells of my own to kill, and if I did there isn't any real booze here anyway. It's all a dream. But if I drink it, I will be that much drunker.
Bal slugged back half the drink. He tried not to think of such things.

--

Jeremiah's attention was finally forced toward something that wasn't in some way affiliated with bacon. He wasn't entirely comfortable with this; bacon was a nice thing to focus on after all the screaming, the spiders (was the masquerade only that morning?) the further screaming... But this, the frog thought, his eyes widening in recognition of the wolf, could be a good thing too.
"Don't I know you?"

[Cogidubnus]

Too many dreamers. Too many dreams.

There are only so many hands that can write on a single page. There is only so much room before a blank slate runs black with ink. Like a tidal pool that has no deeps, only rocks, and waves, and foam.

The dream was crumbling. The dream -had- crumbled.

Before their eyes they each saw it, as trees and skyscrapers, and rocks and sea gave way to searing white, blinding in its intensity, and the sudden feeling of an immense, otherworldly cold.

It smelled like vanilla ice cream. It tasted like oranges. It sounded, silently, like sirens in the distance. Nothing so loud as to startle or hurt, but a distant wail that crawled through your spine and pricked at your neck. The sound of dangerous things that really not that far away. Not so very far away at alll.

And as each one woke, they found themselves incomprehensibly buried in what appeared to be snow, each one lined up next to the other one as though they were in a graveyard. It was very cold, and the sky was very dark, and red, and the stars seemed dim against the clouds that reflected a dull, burning light.

Some of the graves were filled with blood. None stirred from those but two - a man carrying two large, bladed swords, who sat up abruptly and thrashed wildly at the thick liquid covering him, and another shape who rose from the red with a mad grin and happy eyes. Three wings spread from his head and his back. He stepped up out of the grave, dripping blood on the pristine white.

Not everyone woke again, but all the survivors of the ball had been gathered there, and deposited, and then apparently, forgotten.

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

Tim slowly opened her eyes, and then blinked, staring up at the sky. She tried to figure out where the heck she was. Firstly, staring up at the sky whilst lying flat on your back was not a normal position for a gryphon. Secondly, a moment ago she could have sworn she was frantically attempting to herd gryphons out of a university campus. Thirdly, there was almost no noise audible - the snow around her (or what looked like snow) muffled any noises.

Noises. There was something tickling the back of her memory; something sneaking about in there that, once it decided to pop up it's nasty little head, she was going to be sorry. And yet... for the moment, whatever the idea was was content to lay low, hiding in the briar patch of her somewhat disjoint and jumbled memories of the past few days.

She decided that movement was possibly something to investigate at this time. Gradually, slowly, she moved, flexed, or twisted each muscle in turn, checking to see if anything was broken. Some sprains and strains were to be expected, but other than that, she seemed to be in one surprisingly undamaged piece. Glancing around, she lay in a small white hollow in the white fluffy substance. The tentative movements she had essayed so far had, perhaps unsurprisingly, generated a shape in the bottom of the hollow: a pair of wings around a central flatter portion. "Oh, a snow gryphon!" She levered herself upward, doing her best to leave the two-dimensional form intact, and rose to her feet. Stretching a little, she glanced around, taking in the row of grave-like holes with an uneasy shudder, but declining to investigate, just yet, how many of them would remain occupied.

Occupation. That word snuck off and joined Noises in the back of her head.

She took a deep breath, and let out a sigh. Ah, well. Time to get moving.

Noises and Occupation took that moment to leap out and batter her consciousness about the forebrain, leaving her gasping like a fish out of water. Rover! No deep imposing thudding of his heart beating, no unmistakeable sounds of gryphonic household deconstruction! Where the heck was he? She shot up on her hind legs, balancing with her wings, turning her head in all directions like a meerkat, looking for a hole big enough to put the huge idiot into. If she had lost him, she'd be in real trouble. And if he were harmed as a result, she might as well shove herself into a meat-grinder, and save everyone the trouble. Slowly.

There were no holes. Or, at least, no grave larger than maybe ten feet in length, far too small for him. Heck, he'd barely manage to fit his foot into the largest hole. There was nothing in front of the graves but the side of the castle; behind, the ground sloped gently up to a small crest, perhaps a hundred yards away from where she now stood. Other than the inhabitants of some of the graves, not a thing moved.

She shook the snow from her feathers, and looked again.



Crap.

She knew she was going to be sorry.

[Lisky]

The demon remembered a good deal of anger as he awoke in the white fluff.  Anger, frustration, and a swordsman he was getting ready to disembowel with his axe.  He was wearing no shirt again.  His pants and fur seemed matted in places, and smelled of stale blood.  He slowly, tentatively looked down.  The area was silent.  There was very little in the way of movement around him, his ears starting to swivel, flickering from side to side as he searched for noises.  

He felt rather groggy, but his muscles were quickly recovering.  He slowly leaned up from the chilly bed, flexing his wings, and watching as the enchantments on the silver flexed the semi-precious metal with the leathery surface.  He took a painfully cold breath as Baseel slowly crept to his feet. He was tall, and impressive, he also stood out like a sore thumb as he stretched his wings to either side.  As if on instinct, he hardened his skin and started looking around him.  The blood soaked tri-wing caught his attention almost immediately.  He watched, as if transfixed, as the cubi glistened with red.  H couldn't tell too much about him, other than his gender, and that he was smiling far too broadly.  


Baseel tried his hardest to avoid catching the man's attention as he searched for movemnts in other graves, he was going try and help someone.  He didn't know them, but hopefully they weren't as heebie-jeebie inducing as a triwing.  they were notoriously difficult to kill, and equally difficult to please.  They were fickle, and some turned violent at the drop of a hat.  Best leave that boy alone.  Besides, with a smile like that, he just didn't seem quite right in the head.

[Azlan]

A bit of white fluff stirred on one of the grave-like mounds.  Fine particles of frozen water puffed out into the expanse of open air above to re-disperse and be lost among the covered ground.

A short mousy appearing muzzle was revealed, then a bit too green to be turquoise colored eyes opened sharply.  A smallish ringtail sat up abruptly sputtering out snowy mush, "peh, first oranges and now snow." 

Stretching the stiffness from his bones, the former dreamer carefully took to his feet.  Shaking off his glasses, he stretched previously concealed wings before examining his various belongings. 

His attention was focused upon the others that had also seemed to come around.  The blood drenched chap with the insane grin worried him the most, he really hoped this was not going to be a bad encounter.

[Mel Dragonkitty]

Mel awoke slowly. To an ice dragon the snow was a comfort rather than a tomb. It was only when memory returned along with the oddness of citrus scented snow that she sat up, the snow obediently rolling back like a blanket. She stood and found her legs tangled by the wet remains of her ball gown. One magic gesture had her redressed in her favorite coat and boots, although the heavily spelled jewelry was still hidden underneath. The dragon quickly oriented herself. The stony bulk of Damaske castle was behind her, the privet maze to her right and ground before her feet a series of snowy hillocks. To a casual view they might have looked like vegetable beds covered for the winter until people started popping up. A grim crop indeed. "Grandmother?"  Mel addressed the area in general, having no idea where to start looking. "Brunhilda?" But she went silent when armed and bloodied figures began appearing from the mounds instead of her family or allies.

[Corgatha Taldorthar]

Something stretched into a position that was odd and uncomfortable but not yet at the threshold of pain. Voices, many cacophonous voices, begged, moaned, pleaded, and demanded; their din echoing the inside of Corgatha's skull.

He was pretty sure he was lying prone, with some weight atop his chest, but it was difficult to get a feel for his own body, or his surroundings. A gray haze blanketed his vision, like that time......? Memory danced just out of reach.

It was some effort, but he brushed his fingertips across his chest, neck, sides. He had to push through something, loose, but still a minor obstacle. No breaks or tears in his hide, but he felt weak, like an infant, with a sensation of too much of his essence being crammed into a vessel too small, and losing the balance of it.

Focus.

A vision of thread, a lone strand of rope connecting far and away into the ether. He still couldn't see. Claustrophobia was a stranger to the gray man, but  the weight was oppressive, and he flailed, or rather tried to. When physical motion failed, his mind raced along dim half-remembered pathways, until he found himself at a bright glow, and reached a tendril of thought out at it.


Oceans of fire seared at him, mountains of ice crushed at his soul. In the center was power, and he took a small bit, struggling to hold it in his will, and found balance. It was not complete, but he had recalled some memory of who he was.


Stretching, Corgatha rose to a crouch, shoving the flakes of snow off. There were other figures around, but most seemed to be shaking off their own somnolence, and he wanted to recover a bit more before risking conversation. Animal-men, and as the memory drifted across, bits and pieces of language arose, and other memories faded. One or two were familiar.

He seized more of the Power, and sculpted a bit of dirt and rock over his form, both for a bit of protection and for modesty's sake. It was definitely out of the norm to be born like this instead of spun out. Whomever had called him better have a damn good reason.

[techmaster-glitch]

   In one of the shallow 'graves', an Insectis body twitched and made funny noises. If one could understand the Insectis language, they would pick out scatterings of disjointed words.
   "Fire...crush...burn...queen...save...QUEEN!"
   The insectis suddenly sat up, its buggy eyes shooting open as it turned every which way. More barely-comprehesible buzzing and clicking even to one who could understand the language issued from the Insectis, who eventually managed to collect himself to get bearings on his surroundings.
   First thing he realized was that it was cold. As a Creature accustomed to living in the depths of the planet, he did not like cold at all. He collected himself enough to summon some fire magic and engulf himself with flames for a moment, also inadvertently shrouding his general vicinity in a thick steamy mist as the ice around him melted, and when he was comfortable, he turned it down to a warm simmer, just using his magic to create a small stream of heat into himself. He then stood up and looked around, trying to find out what in the Motherqueen's name was going on.

[Boog]

Insofar as Jeremiah could tell the whole world crumbled away. He whirled to look at the dissolving mountaintops in the distance, toppling trees, the vanishing earth beneath his feet.
He had JUST gotten done with this insane shit in the abandoned city. A small whimper escaped him.
"Why?"
The universe drained away, and Jeremiah fell a long, long ways. Ice cream, oranges, sirens.
He opened his eyes to crystaline white. Snow.
Snow. Cold blooded sluggishness gripped him like the ham fists of mental ward orderly. Jeremiah flailed to the surface of the snow, erupting in a burst of panic and white powder.

[Cogidubnus]

Arise...

Dead. Drowned. Lost. Vision clouded with rot, with flecks of memory floating behind her eyes. No thoughts, no words. Dead. Drowned. Lost.

Something was picking her up. Was wiping the rot from her eyes. The sleep from her mind.

Kill them. the voice told her. She knew who it spoke of. Who else could it be? There were no others here, but them. Slowly.

Like a rough hand shucking a crab, she felt her shell falling off her, brushed off like so much spoiled meat and guts. Replaced with iron. And the sudden fire of pain. It was unendureable, like an arm being pulled off inch by inch. She screamed. The iron around her sizzled, fused in place around her neck. The weight was terrifying - but at the same time, weightless. She had no muscles to strain against it, nor shoulders to support this iron cage wrapped around her now.

Chains. Blades. They wrapped around her, constricting her, like water gently enveloping her. Colder than the snow she was buried in.

The pain intensified, like wires flaying through a body that she no longer had. She felt her rotten mind crack, her conciousness poured out like batter into a new...flesh. A new existence, without any feeling or sensation but pain.

Bladed chains tightened around her, dancing at her command.

BREAK THEM

* * *

Though he'd said nothing, the Cubi, naked and covered in blood, turned to Kiet. He spoke calmly, though his smile did not fade.

"Kiet'jaer. I scared recognized you. How you've grown since I last saw you!" he said. "But I am afraid that I have no choice but to take my leave now. I have no interest in these events, beyond my desire to place myself far, far beyond them."

His form began to fade slightly. "But when you want to catch up, you'll know where to find me."

He laughed, and faded from the air.

* * *

The castle loomed darkly before them. A red glow could be seen reflecting dully from within a few windows. An occasional dark shape would stumble by, darkly outlined against the glass for only a moment before dissapearing yet again.

The ground upon which they found themselves seemed somehow greyer for the firelight reflecting off the clouds from above, as though all the color had been washed from the garden. Garden structures painted green were sickly pale, and the few gates of stone were milky white, like bone or chalk instead of stone. The iron fences, instead of black, were a faded grey.

It was the dead of winter, so the hedge maze was dead and gone until the spring, which made the courtyard feel strangely open. The glass wall of the ballroom was visible from here - or the remenants of it. It had shattered entirely, and the snow was forming drifts in the gap left there.

Red flowers were blooming throughout the garden, a bloody red lily flecked with golden spots. Their fragrance filled the air, despite the numbing cold, the cloying sweet becoming nauseating mixed with the smell of fire and rot. They bloomed here and there in the snow, and on the castle itself, they were blooming up the walls in great runners, forming sheets of the flowers along the castle walls. They had almost reached the top. Their fragrance was almost intoxicating.

[Inumo]

A fair-skinned woman sat up suddenly, snow crumpling into a small mound that just reached the top of her bare midriff. "Oh my -- Ngah! That is cold!" Conjuring up a small lizard-shaped golem of fire, she set it to dancing about over her body as she stood up, melting and evaporating the snow while providing warmth. When it's job was finished, it perched coiled around the metal rod holding her bun together.

Tinti stretched and checked that her blue velvet top, with a high neck and an opening revealing the glowing green filigree scrawled across her bosom, was sitting right. Brushing off her stomach, which was adorned with a circular filigree reminiscent of a sun, and shimmering blue sarong, she straightened her tight bun of dark brown hair and double-checked the apparently steel rod that ran through it. Satisfied with her appearance, she stood up and smiled. Her soft brown eyes contrasted with the neon green filigree across her brow and similarly colored almond outlines extending from the corners of her eyes, a single dot in their centers.

Snapping her fingers, she produced a small blue stone in a swirl of smoke and gave it a flick. "Ask the chef about what he could do with oranges and vanilla," she murmured, before flicking it once more and making it disappear with a flick of the wrist. Finally, she directed her attention to the people around her. Her eyes appeared to take in every detail without shifting that smile, from the blood-soaked hollow to those mounds that didn't move to the castle where every color appeared washed-out, save the swathes of lilies which, at this distance, appeared almost orange. Her survey complete, she said, "Hello there! My name is Tinti, of House Cromwald. How do you do?"

[Azlan]

One ear stood straight up as the other rotated to the side, mirroring his quizzical expression a bit.  The ringtail stumbled over his words, "g... grand... father?!  I... wait!"  Centuries of regret welled up from inside him, motivating his thoughts and actions.

Kiet took a step forward as if to grab the elder 'cubi, but he had faded from before the ringtail could even move an arm, "arrgh, wily old codger!  Catch up?  Catch... up?!  What does he even mean by that?"

Sighing, the cubi pondered his own thoughts, completely missing the introduction and jovial attitude of the human looking thing.  Looking about he took some stock of those about, "hmmm, a little gryphon, dog demon, um... dragon, gray human, insectis, frog! and er, human-not-human thing.  How are we supposed to deal with a mad god?  What are we even supposed to do now... arrgh, RPGs.  Oh wait, sketchy guy with swords..."

Kiet narrowed his gaze at the swords guy and spoke, "who exactly are you supposed to be?"

[Lisky]

Baseel watched the others emerge from the graves with varying displays of force.  A hairless thing, with smooth skin, and bright markings created a living gout of flame.  A small gryphon shook itself off, then started moving as if it were looking for something.  Then he heard something that triggered a memory.  A name, a simple name... someone from the party,  Brunhilda.  He remembered her, she was the short, stocky dragoness who'd been flirting with him just before things had gone to hell... Perhaps the source of the voice could help him locate her.

He looked for the source of the voice.  The area was still, quiet.  He slowly moved that way, hoping to catch a glimpse of someone.  Things had gone down hill... perhaps something could be pieced together though... it had been one headache after another, and it was time to change that.

[Cogidubnus]

As Tim gave up looking over the rising slope and turned around, the entire slope rose up, pouring back over the open graves and burying the openings, various moving and non-moving inhabitants, and gravestones in about eight feet of cold, heavy snow.

"Chi!"

A pause, while the snow washed up against the side of the castle, then stopped. A large head turned this way and that, a slightly befuddled look crossing the face as it's owner attempted to location the owners of the voices he'd heard, without success.

"Chi?"

Somewhere about halfway down the pile, a head poked through the surface, spat out snow, and coughed. The area around the head stirred, and the smaller gryphon extricated herself from the snowdrift, with some difficulty. She stood up, shook the snow off, and stalked over to the behemoth, anger evident in every carefully placed footstep. So much, in fact, that it was surprising that the remaining snow upon her feathers wasn't turning into steam.

"You... you imbecilic... feather-brained! ...dim-witted! ...gods-forsaken damned trouble-magnet!" She drew herself up right in front of his beak, stared him straight in the eye, righteous indignation almost visibly pouring off of her as she berated the feathered menace right back onto his haunches. "Any one of us could have been buried, you twit! And how are we to find those that haven't yet moved, but will any moment now, huh? Try to think a moment before you leap out and break things, you giant freaking feather-wit!" By now, the giant, expressive face had managed confused, briefly touched on relieved before moving on to distressed, alarmed, and finally ended up looking fairly penitent; the smaller gryphon was still working herself into a frenzy of vituperation when it was cut short.

In sorrowful tones: "Chi." followed by an apologetic, gentle nudge that almost rocked her entirely from her paws.

She sighed. "Yes, I know you didn't mean to hurt anyone. You great nimwit, not everyone is quite as robust as you are.". She stabilised herself with a wing on the ground, and patted his beak familiarly. "Why don't you give a hand fishing everyone out, now that you're here and all?"

A pause.

"Only, gently, huh?"

A decisive nod. "Chi."

***

After the party had managed to extracate itself from the sudden deluge of snow, there was little sound in the garden except for the brushing of snow and the blowing of wind, and the sound of crackling fire carried up the mountain by the breeze. The red flowers swayed, their perfumed scent strong even in the icy cold.

Kiet's questioning found the red man unresponsive. Empty eyes viewed nothing, and he without another word he collapsed into a bloody heap, twin swords thrust into the ground to catch his weight before arms without strength gave and slid to the ground.

The courtyard, but for the group, was almost empty, but for the occasional pocket of mounded snow, indicating yet another grave-place for those not-yet-dead. Or perhaps they were dead.

The gate to the garden was broken open, halfway buried in snow, athough the snowfall now had stopped. A deep path through the snow had been furrowed there. Past it, the doors to the castle swung wide open, although nothing within could be seen but darkness, and a single candle burning with a red flame in the darkness.

* * *

He waited in darkness. Oh, he'd heard the voice, oho, oho, he's heard that suble tasty divine voice but here it couldn't find him. The dead cannot go mad, cannot cannot cannot cannot cannot, but oh, he is so so so so hungry...
When he first realized that his mind was no longer his own, he had been concerned. Then angry that he was happy about being angry, and then he decided he would be dead before he let himself be killed. So he found a dead man and ate him and his stomach became dead, and then he found another dead man and wore his skin, and his skin became dead, and he found another dead man and took his flesh and wore it and his body became dead, and then he opened his own skull and his mind became dead, and the voice couldn't talk to him anymore, but he was running out of the dead, and he could feel it coming back, scratching at the inside of his skull where his mind used to be, like a cat in a sack in a river.

He fingered the cleaver in his hand, and sat still and stinking in the dark, slowly rotting as he waited for something, anything, to die where he could find it. Or let him kill it.


* * *

His mind had broken long ago, and there was nothing in his head but the thin veneer of civility - he thought it was thin, sometimes it seemed like the only thing contained in his mind, and that the slavering monster baying inside his brain was just the imaginings of a severely repressed man. Perhaps there was truth to this. Regardless, the strain of waiting was about to break him.
with a sword at his hip and a smile on his face, he walked, reaching the gate and turning, so that he could see all the dreamers that had returned, or that thought they had returned, and took a bow. The Lunar Light above him shone so, so brightly, he could see it even through the clouds and the ash and the fire and the stone, and the sword in his hand and in his heart was so very, very cold.

He smiled, and wondered which would be the first to ask him a question. That one he would kill first. He walked through the snow towards the group, sword flickering in the moonlight like a silver fish in water. The charm around his neck and wrist glittered, and his yellow eyes were red with blood. His hat was nowhere to be found.

Which first? Which first? Which first?

[Corgatha Taldorthar]

Holding the Power was enhanced the senses, and Corgatha could remember that someone had once told him why, although not the explanation itself. However, sharpness of detail was of profoundly limited use when the focus for vision and hearing kept fading in and out. After the second loss of lucidity, the grey man released his grip; Saidin could do nasty things if he lost control.

Still, despite his wavering vision, Corgatha kept stretching, running in place, and scratching himself, anything to wake up and convince this ragged new body that he was its master.


Figures, near, arrayed in a circle, no knowledge of personality, no opportunity to retreat and observe. Non-human. Animalistic. Several worlds had such. Trollocs? No sense of hostility. Corgatha knew a Ward that true shadowspawn would find irritating, but he wasn't up to spinning Air and Spirit delicately enough to build it.

One or two of the figures seemed familiar; another few minutes of stamping in the snow, and he'd approach the dog-man. He seemed familiar, safe.

[Lisky]

The first thing to approach the demon  was the strange, hairless man.  He'd met him in the dream world.  Odd, but at least he wasn't outwardly hostile.  Baseel kept his axe and shield loose in his grip as he observed the man approaching.  His wings twitched lightly and the crunching of snow was welcome.  It was a sign that it would be difficult to sneak up on him.

With a flicker of his ears, he gave a small nod to acknowledge Corgatha. "I see the world has changed but the company has not.  Hello again." 

With a flick of the wrist, Bas applied a quick spell to his vision, which allowed him to see the souls of those around him for a short distance.  It made looking for living things easier in the snowy gardens.

[Azlan]

"I sense quite the inimical intent nearing our little soiree from..." the smallish ringtail touched the index finger of his left hand to his cute little nose and shifted his gaze briefly skyward before pointing towards the approach from the castle, "there."

The incubus sent tiny slivers of his own shadow darting away from himself into the many fresh graves from whence no life nor unlife could be felt.  Those that no longer held a soul tore themselves bloodily from the ground, coming to a halt as a motley crowd just behind Kiet.  In the darkness, the tiny flickers of red shone through their soulless eyes, as the animative energy made itself known.  That coupled with the moonlight reflected off his glasses and pearly white teeth made quite the grim and grisly scene.

"It's a dead man's party.... who could ask for more?"

Wordlessly, the would-be puppet master ordered his grizzly band forward to properly greet the approaching wolf.  Though hard to notice, the shadows that these ghouls cast all stretched from his own. 

[Inumo]

The now-snow-covered Delir woman blinked, her expression matched somehow by her expressionless fire lizard. As it resumed crawling all over and steaming off the snow once more, Tinti looked up at the mountain of feathers that was the giant gryphon. With a slight raise of her eyebrows, she turned back to surveying her surroundings. Her right hand raised a moment, then dropped as she reconsidered making another memo. When she caught sight of the elegantly dressed wolf in the distance, she curtsied, missing the revival of the fresh corpses. As the ringtail led the, as he'd described it, "dead man's party" towards the wolf, she refrained from approaching and intruding on what looked to be a quite personal matter. Instead, she approached the draconic woman and curtsied. "Hello there. My name is Tinti, of House Cromwald. How do you do?"

[Cogidubnus]

End of Chapter 1

The Dragon Princess. The Reaver King. The Waking Dream.
The Magician and the Heirophant. The Worker in the Deeps, and The Two Skies.

Title is important. Names are important. Names give us strength. Names give us identity. The mind is frail, and needs names to give form to any number of things.
But I am wise. For I know that hats can be bats can be rats can be cats can be thats can be thises, and oars and be boards can be doors can be yours can be mine. The metaphysics to me are oh-so-clear.
Why, then, do they call me mad?

* * *

The well-dressed took a step backwards, an expression of consternation crossing his face as the sudden horde of undead rose and begam marching towards him. Some of them he recognized from the party. A Baron dripping with blood, a Marchion without a face, and a cute little kitty-cat missing most of her skin. Terrifying monstrous things all.

The wolf grinned a savage grin, and removed from his jacket a pocketwatch, golden and without a cover, with a special dial for the calendar, and another showing the phases of the moon. The moon was full.

* * *

To Melodie, Jeremiah and Kiet's eyes, the pocketwatch was alive with power, the diminuative dial completely undisguised as to its purpose. The least ability of magical sight would show that its relationship with the lunar lattice was extremely dangerous as far as space-time was concerned, and an alarming potention to compress past, present and future into the same moment, a technique likely rife with unforseen consequences.

Like a pendulum, the watch swung from the wolf's hand. Like the hand of some invisible clock, it left another watch behind it that pointed to each hour on the semicircle it traveled. Ten watches hung from the wolf's hand, each proclaiming a different moment in time.
The wolf disappeared. Kiet's undead servitors began to fall one by one, a lightning-bolt crescent of silver flashing through each head before they fell to the ground, decapitated.

* * *

Baseel's Eyes of the Spirit discerned only the party thus far, and the soul of the wolf that now assaulted them, and then also the glow of life from one of the dead ones that Kiet had raised. A fiery spirit inhabited that body, although he did not recognize that person in either body or soul.

* * *

In the span of five seconds, every flower touching the Castle Damaske withered, died, disintigrated, regrew and bloomed anew. There seemed to be more of them this time.

Beginning of Chapter 2