FICTION: Joy to the World

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New forum, same story...

I didn't want to disappoint either of my loyal readers ( ), so I'm moving the Joy to the World story here. Not only will this be the site that gets updated from now on, but I will be reposting the story so far here in case some of you join in late. I'd like that.

The comments, while much appreciated, aren't important enough to save. Sorry if this disappoints anyone.

-----
ONE
-----

Lacre Almasy walked along the cobbled town street in no particular hurry. His eyes darted to the faces of various beings that he met on his way, causing him to wonder about the people around him. Just how many of them were actually creatures in disguise? It was a common enough topic in his mind; after all, his father did study creature history, and naturally the information trickled down to him.

He peered over the heads of the furres in the crowd and spied a wooden bench of the side of the road. He calmly stepped over to it and sat down, his long legs forming an angle, not quite resting on the seat of the bench.

Lacre was a raccoon being, covered in light and dark shades of gray fur. His face wore a serene expression, and boasted a pair of half-closed, watery gray eyes, along with a nondescript, chocolate-colored nose, and most importantly, some smooth raven hair that billowed into his lap. The band of dark grey fur that surrounded his eyes and extended to the sides of his head was the only other distinguishing feature on his face.

Moving down, you could see a dark gray neck and body, interrupted only by the light gray fur on his chest and the white undershirt he wore on top of it. The rest of his upper body sported a navy blazer, left open to display his undershirt. A silvery hand reached into one deep pocket and withdrew a PDA with reflective surfaces. He tapped a few buttons and checked his schedule. Great. He was late for a meeting with his family at the coffee shop.

He got up and stood on his shiny black loafers. Without socks, the ethereal shade of his feet could be seen if inspected closely enough, at least until they blended from silver to gunmetal just above the ankles, whereupon the focus shifted to his khakis, which were well creased and held up by his belt, not his butt. He turned off his PDA and inserted it back in his pocket, striding over to the local coffee shop.

Upon walking into the door, he spotted a couple of foxes sitting at a table. One was obviously aged and was beginning to get some gray fur. He was calmly sipping a hazelnut blend and studying an old and musty tome. The other was about Lacre's age, holding a sketchbook in his hand and nervously copying the pictures he saw in the older fox's book.

Lacre sat down next to them. "Sorry I'm late, Dad."

The aged fox looked up and smiled. "I suppose there's a first time for everything, Lacre."

"Yeah," the other fox said, looking up curiously at Lacre. "You usually show up really early. What happened?"

Lacre shrugged. "Eh, some muggers decided it would be fun to pick on the skinny coon boy, y'know."

The younger fox flinched. "Ouch. What happened?"

The father raised an eyebrow. "Did you get an opportunity to practice your martial arts?"

Lacre sighed. "No, not really. This weird voice scared them away before I got the chance. Strange, eh?"

The older fox, Majo Almasy, nodded. "Strange, eh indeed. But let's not get sidetracked. Do you see what I have here, Lacre?"

Lacre peered at the book and rolled his eyes. "More Haven City research, eh?"

The younger fox nodded. "Dad's getting pretty close to a breakthrough. We might even find out where it is!"

Lacre furrowed his brow. "Slow down, Kijo. You're telling me that you can find this place?"

"There's nothing definite yet," Majo elaborated, "but if all goes well, we could not only determine the city's location, but devise a way to get inside."

Lacre shook his head, making wave-like motions in his hair. "I really don't think so, Dad. You've been kind of focused on this Haven City thing, y'know, and I don't think you've thought this through. First of all, most of the furres don't believe you. They think humans are extinct, and the thought of an entire city of them, much less a city of magically apt humans, is gonna cause a panic. Secondly, the humans themselves seem isolationist in nature. They're not gonna welcome visitors with open arms, y'know, especially if you force your way in."

Majo blinked and set down his coffee cup. "Perhaps you're right, Lacre. But who knows what could happen if we could find an ally in these people..."

Lacre shrugged. "Maybe peace, maybe war, eh?"

Majo focused on a glyph in his book. "I suppose we'll have to treat this matter carefully, won't we?"

None of them noticed that they were getting weird looks from another thin raccoon from across the room. He fingered the gold amulet hanging around his neck, then turned back to face his companions, a sensual mink girl and a stout german shepherd.

"So, anyway," Lacre continued, "how's the coffee here?"

Kijo scoffed. "It's not that great. I bet you could do better, bro."

"True. I guess if a product is mass produced the quality is bound to drop, y'know."

"Alright! Everybody put their hands up!" yelled a loud, raucous voice from the counter.

Everyone turned and saw a coyote creature dressed in leather and glowing with an orange light. His eyes and paws were swathed in radiant energy, with one hand pointed at the paralyzed server phoenix and the other stretched toward the crowd, ready to fry anyone who opposed him. Most of the crowd, including Lacre and his family, had their hands in plain sight. Kijo looked more than a little uneasy.

"Okay, now that we've got that settled," the coyote yelled, "let's get down to business! I want all of you to cough up your valuables! Just pile them up in front of me and we won't have any problems!"

The one table that didn't obey his orders was the one with the other raccoon sitting at it. The raccoon was gritting his teeth, trying to ignore the coyote and drink his coffee. The mink eyed the coyote curiously, and the dog glared and began to get up from the table.

"Hey!" the coyote shrieked, pointing a hand at the dog. "Who said you could get up?"

"Gee, I dunno," drawled the raccoon sarcastically, still not looking up from his coffee. "Who said you could march in here, light yourself up, and then MAKE A SCENE AND INTERRUPT OUR GODDAMN COFFEE DRINKING?" His hands tensed up and began shaking. The dog nodded and began to approach the coyote.

"Whoa, you've got a mouth on you, you little twerp. What say I light you up instead?"

The raccoon stood up and glared at the coyote, who flinched slightly but otherwise held his ground. But before any more conflict could be sparked, the german shepherd gestured and a white glyph appeared on the coyote's forehead. All of his magic was immediately extinguished and he fell to the ground with a light thud.

The raccoon gave the dog a black look before sitting back down. "Killjoy."

The phoenix at the counter blinked, then looked at the dog gratefully. "Th-thank you."

"You're welcome," said the dog.

"Bite me," said the raccoon.

The mink giggled. "Better call the police before he wakes up."

The phoenix nodded and hurried over to the phone.

Lacre and his family blinked and looked at each other. A few seconds passed before Kijo spoke up. "That was pretty cool."

Majo nodded. "Indeed. That german shepherd handled the situation well."

Lacre stared at the other raccoon. "Y'know, maybe we should finish up before that raccoon goes ballistic, eh?"

Majo tilted his head and looked at the other raccoon. "Perhaps. I guess we can move our discussion elsewhere."

Kijo looked very nervous now. "Yes please."

The three of them moved out of the coffee shop, carrying their things with them. Afterwards, the raccoon, german shepherd, and mink looked at each other.

"They said Haven City, right?" asked the mink.

"Unfortunately, yes," growled the raccoon.

-----
TWO
-----

"Lacre! Lacre, wake up!"

Lacre groaned and opened his eyes, revealing dimly lit black sentinels of letters staring at him. Once again, he had fallen asleep while reading, and once again, Kijo desperately needed something from him. His arm twitched and his face lurched to the side, causing the book to fall off his face and onto the floor.

"Whas now, Kio?" he slurred. "I tired."

"This is bad, Lacre! Really bad! I lost my sketchbook!"

Lacre blinked and tried to get up off the desk. What he ended up doing was rolling off of it and mashing his nose into the cover of the book. "Where you lose?" he asked, too tired to rub his nose and ease the pain.

"Weeell," Lacre heard Kijo say in his high-pitched 'panic' voice, "it's lost! I can't find the stupid thing!"

Lacre blinked. Kijo hadn't lost anything in a long time. In fact, Lacre couldn't remember anything of the sort at all. The only proof he had that Kijo had the habit at all was the stories Majo told him. For Kijo to misplace something so important after years of perfect records wasn't logical.

It was this curiosity that motivates Lacre to get up. His muscles felt nonexistant, his bones felt dense, his skin felt thick and immobile, but somehow he found the strength to move. He flipped himself over and looked into Kijo's face, which sported the traditional 'ZOMG I'm gonna die!!' expression.

"Get Dad," Lacre croaked.

Kijo ran out of the room as though his tail were on fire. Lacre couldn't help but wonder if something was siphoning his own energy and putting it into his brother's body. He was certainly wound up enough. Before he could deliberate further, the robed figure of his adoptive father paced into the room.

"...and Lacre's lying on the floor and he won't get up!" Kijo mumbled to him.

Majo stroked his chin, then bent down and lifted Lacre off of the ground. "Oh dear. He's gone limp. Something's wrong with him. Kijo, call a doctor."

Kijo's face spasmed as he deliberated between his sketchbook and his brother. He looked around the house wondering what he should do, and when the doorbell's screaming siren pierced the tension, he rushed off to open the door, eager to buy some more time for himself to think the situation through.

"Almasy-residence-how-may-I-help-you?" he blurted as fast as he possibly could.

A hand covered in a fine black leather glove held out a familiar object to the frazzled fox. "Does this belong to you?"

Kijo's eyes opened to maximum width as he snatched the sketchbook from the hand. "My sketchbook!" he shrieked with joy, turning his head up to look at the stranger. "Thank you thank you thank-" His attitude made a surprising turnaround - ears from perky to droopy, mouth from grinning in joy to an abnormally dropped jaw, eyes wide open for an entirely different reason - as he took his first good look at the party at the door.

The raccoon from the coffee shop brushed off his glove and folded his arms, giving Kijo a hard look. "You're welcome." As expected, the mink girl and the German shepherd were standing next to him, waiting for when they were needed.

Kijo continued to cringe. "Oh, stop it." the raccoon sighed, closing his eyes to avoid seeing such a pathetic furre. "I'm not going to hurt you. I just wanted to drop off this book and have a few words with that other fox. Could you please let us in?"

Kijo shivered and moved aside, allowing the three strange furres inside.

Lacre sprung out of Majo's hands as soon as they walked in the door. "Oh, you're the people from the coffee shop, eh? What can I do for you?"

Majo looked annoyed. "What happened to the Lacre who could barely move, eh?"

Lacre shrugged and sat back down, apparently oblivious to what had previously happened.

The other raccoon cleared his throat rather noisily. "If we're all finished here, there's something I need to discuss with you, old man."

Majo turned and regarded the new arrival with a critical eye. He deliberated for a few seconds, then gave a slight grin. "Very well. But before we begin, would all of you mind showing me the colors of your eyes?"

The three of them looked surprised, then reached for some of their accessories; for the mink, a silver earring, for the dog, a solid golden ring, for the raccoon, his amulet. With one movement, these items fell off into their hands, and their bodies took on an entirely different shape. The fur disappeared, their muzzles shortened, replaced by bridged noses, their ears relocated and changed shape, and their tails vanished without a trace. By the time the three of them had pocketed their jewelry, they were real, live humans.

Lacre blinked in surprise and stared. Kijo giggled weakly and fainted. Majo nodded and sat down next to Lacre. "I thought so."

The former raccoon grimaced and leaned against the wall. "So how did you know?"

"Simple," Majo explained. "Your amulet is engraved with a pentagram, the insignia of Haven City, and your friend used hand gestures to cast that knockout spell. These sorts of hand gestures are unique to the Wiccan people, am I right?"

The stout human nodded. "You've done your research well, sir."

The leader edged away from him. "Which is actually the problem. If you know so much about our homeland, then surely you must know that our existance is... was a well-kept secret."

"Was?" Lacre asked. "What happened?"

"A despot nearly destroyed our city from within," answered the stout man. "Since then, the Founders have taken the liberty of opening relations with the political powers of the world. All behind the scenes, of course."

The woman, meanwhile, was too busy tending to the unconscious Kijo to pay much attention to the conversation. She cradled his chin delicately with her hand, looking at his face with a bit more attention than was necessary for simple first aid.

"The world isn't ready for such a major revelation," stated the thin man. "A premature announcement of our existance could cause widespread panic!"

"I told you so," Lacre said.

"We're here to make sure that you don't cause any trouble for us. Not only would this upset the negotiation process, it would ruin your reputation. No matter how much research you have, the public will root themselves in ignorance unless you provide cold, hard evidence. And before you say anything, no, we won't volunteer ourselves."

Majo sighed. "You're sure of this?"

"Damn sure. In case you haven't heard, humans have quite a crappy reputation amongst you furres. The instant we take off our disguises, we get lynched. It's quite pathetic, really."

"But still an issue," continued the stout man. "We need you to keep your silence on this matter. It's fortunate that Alfans is traveling with me and Julia or this would have ended in violence."

Lacre rolled his eyes. "Why am I not surprised? Listen guys, my Dad's a smart fox. This Haven City research is just a hobby of his. I can guarantee you that he's not going to blow your cover anytime soon."

"No offense, kid, but-"

"I'm not a kid. I'm twenty-eight," Lacre interrupted.

"We're all sixty-five," Alfans retorted. "A Wiccan your age would only be halfway through school at the Institute. As I was saying, your word has very little value, certainly not enough to satisfy me. You'll have to give us some form of collateral if you want us to leave."

A heavy silence hung in the air for a few seconds, broken by Kijo's groans of awakening. "Ohhhh, my head..."

"Shhh, shhh, shhh," cooed Julia. "It's okay, little guy. You're gonna be okay."

"Holy crap!" Kijo yelped, leaping out of Julia's arms. "You stay away from me, crazy demon lady!" Julia backed away, looking hurt and rejected.

Meanwhile, Lacre stood up and folded his arms. "You want collateral, yes? Fine. Take me with you."

"WHAT?" Alfans yelled. "Siegfried and Julia piss me off enough as it is! There is no way I'm letting a brat like you get in my way!"

Majo looked at Lacre with shock and surprise. "Lacre, what are you thinking? We barely know these people!"

Lacre grinned and stared directly into Alfans's multicolored eyes. "Think of it this way, Dad. What better way to research Wiccans than to live with them?"

Majo slapped himself in the forehead. "Of course!"

"If you don't agree to this, 'Alfans,'" continued Lacre, "we're blowing the whistle on this city of yours to the press. I think the people will believe more of it than you give them credit for."

Alfans glared at Lacre, then hung his head. "I hate you so much right now."

Lacre grinned widely. "It's settled, then! Let me get my things."

Siegfried nodded. "Very well. Just remember to travel light."

Lacre rushed up the stairs, eager to select his best possessions for the journey ahead.

"Dad?" Kijo asked, still keeping his distance from Julia. "What just happened?"

Majo got up from his chair and headed to the base of the stairs, gazing up at them with apprehension. "Your brother has grown independant or gone off the deep end. I'm not sure which."

-------
THREE
-------

The next day saw Alfans DeClario, Lacre Almasy, Julia Vickers, and Siegfried Weimar stepping into the Half Moon Inn for dinner and a room. The dining area was packed with rowdy adventurers downing congratulatory ale and haggling over contracts. Everyone was dressed in some form of adventuring gear, and the party was no exception.

"I still don't see why we couldn't eat at Lost Lake Inn," Lacre noted, following Alfans and looking around curiously at the tavern's patrons. He was wearing his outfit from before, with a couple of minor differences. His formerly-knee-length hair was tied into a bun that was almost as big as his head. He wasn't fond of the hairstyle, but his only alternatives were to cut his hair or gamble on enemies pulling his hair in combat. More importantly, his black loafers had been replaced by knee-high, steel-toed combat boots. When Siegfried had asked about them, Lacre had simply replied that it was a surprise he didn't want to ruin just yet, y'know? "The food there is excellent, and the dinner shows aren't bad either," he continued, referring to the eccentric regulars who often turned the place upside-down during the evenings.

"I'm not allowed there anymore," sighed Alfans, wearily leading the party towards a secluded table. He wore a white silk shirt with a maroon vest, black satin pantaloons, and brown boots and gloves. His fur was white on his face, except for a black stripe slashing across his eyes, and black and dark-brown striped on his tail, complete with chestnut hair drawn into a ponytail. A pair of pince-nez glasses with thin, nearly invisible frames straddled his muzzle, refracting his slate-grey eyes in an eerie manner. The effect of his appearance was completed by the gold medallion that hung around his neck on a platinum chain. One side was engraved with a simple pentagram, the other with the letters A. DC. He looked like a young nobleman looking to throw his money in every direction, and only the filigreed, golden-hilted rapier in a mahogany scabbard that was clipped to his belt offered a clue to his true profession. "The last time I was there, the place collapsed and I had to pay to repair it!" he yelled. "Damn ferret girl..."

"Ohhhh," said Lacre understandingly. "Yeah, she can be downright scary, y'know? She made my brother wet his pants once."

"I don't believe her temper provided the problem this ti- Ow!" Siegfried teased, at least until Alfans elbowed him in the ribs. It was quite a feat for Alfans to make his jab felt through Siegfried's plate mail, which covered most of his body, complete with greaves and gauntlets (with fingers thin enough to slip his ring patch onto). The only fur exposed was his face, which had a long muzzle and salt-and-pepper fur. His silvery crew cut was mostly hidden by an open-faced helmet. His armor, not to mention his mace and shield, were highly polished and gave off a 'knight-in-shining-armor' aura.

"Oh, stop it, you two!" giggled Julia, following Siegfried and staying close to Lacre. Her eyes flitted from one attractive male to the next, drinking in their figures and prowess. Her own voluptuous form was covered in a long robe colored in a flame motif. No one was quite sure what she wore underneath the robe, if she wore anything at all. Her fur was a rich chocolate color, accentuated by sharp and tempting green eyes. Her red hair was cropped short and gathered around her face like a veil, and a gold clip-on earring was securely fastened to her right ear. "Don't you worry about a thing, Lacre!" she said, brushing her hand against Lacre's in order to capture his attention.

They sat down at a table in the corner, away from the center of attention. Lacre looked at his hand rather uncomfortably. "Say, I've gotta ask you something, Is Julia-"

"Always checking out every package in a five-mile radius? Yes," answered Alfans.

"It's true," sighed Siegfried. "I suspect the main reason she came with us is because of her attraction to furres." Julia illustrated this point by allowing her eyes to rest on a well-muscled tiger.

"But why isn't she flirting with you two instead of perfect strangers?" Lacre asked.

Alfans stuck his tongue out and collapsed on the table. "I've made it perfectly clear that I'm not interested in her advances. Nowadays she only flirts with me to piss me off."

"And the two of us are cousins," explained Siegfried. "Julia knows better than that, at least."

"Enough with the small talk," stated Alfans impatiently. "We all know you're just dying to hear more about Haven City, so go ahead and get it over with."

Lacre raised an eyebrow. "But won't we be overheard?"

"Get a clue, kid. There's too much noise for anyone to hear us in here. Much better than a quiet room."

"Well," Siegfried deliberated, "I suppose we should start at the beginning. About ten thousand years ago, a group of five humans from another world came into contact with the Source Stone and were infused with the powers of Wicca. Their descendants also gained the effects of their powers, and eventually they grew into a minority that needed a place of their own. The five Founders, who became spirits bound to the Source Stone, allotted a piece of land where the Wiccans could live in peace. This kept them alive while the rest of the humans went extinct. We've maintained an isolationist policy, doing whatever we can to stay hidden. Some people get word of our existence, but either no one believes them or they don't use that information. And that's basically our entire history."

Lacre nodded. He already knew most of this, but he didn't want to steal Siegfried's thunder. "Why did my dad ask to see your eyes?"

"Because the powers of a Wiccan are indicated by eye color, much like the clan symbols on cubi," Alfans replied. "You see, there are five schools of Wicca, one for each of the Founders. Which schools a Wiccan has access to is dependant on their personality."

Lacre blinked. "So that means it's possible to change your powers?"

"Possible, but highly unlikely," corrected Siegfried. "People don't change easily, and a 'paradigm shift' only occurs once in a blue moon."

"Anyway," Alfans continued, "The five schools of Wicca. There's White Wicca, mostly healing and defensive magic. Comes from people who are bound by rules and morals. Blue Wicca has counterspells, scrying, stealth effects, basically anything to do with knowledge and strategy. Black Wicca is all about necromancy, fear and power-grabbing, supported by loners and cynics. Red Wicca involves smashing and destruction, patroned by those who follow their heart instead of their head. And lastly, Green Wicca is nature spells and the like. It's a favorite of nature-lovers and traditionalists."

"So you're basically forced between five different personality types?" asked Lacre.

"Well, not really. A lot of Wiccans are only specialized in one color, but there are just as many who split their power between two. They have one eye of each color. Those who use three or more are rarer, but they do exist. They have eyes that have swirls of different colors, except for Goldeneyes, the five-colored jacks-of-all-trades."

Lacre nodded, comprehending most of Alfans's words. "But if these powers are determined by personality, then how do the children handle it?"

Julia spoke up before Alfans got the chance. "Oh, that's easy! Kids are born with brown eyes and really minor powers. They get their real eye colors at age nineteen!"

"Whereupon they are sent to the Haven City Institute of Wicca to learn how to control their powers and become adults," finished Siegfried.

Lacre's eyes widened. "This school takes ALL Wiccans? It must be huge, yes?"

Alfans smiled, obviously proud of this fact. "As far as we know, it's the largest school in the world. It's practically big enough to be a town all by itself."

Lacre rubbed his eyes in disbelief. "Whoa. So how is Haven City run, anyhow?"

"There's a council of fifteen Wiccans. The Founders have permanent seats at the head, and they appoint one person of each two-color combination to assist them. They usually appoint people who are already prestigious in the city, and these appointments last for life unless they piss off the founders enough, which rarely happens."

"So what colors are you again?" Lacre asked, looking at Alfans's disguised eyes.

"Julia's Red and Siegfried's White. I'm Black, with Blue and Red supplements. A tricolor."

"What are the Founders like?"

"Pretty much the embodiments of their personalities. Patrick has a tree up his ass, Felix is a loose cannon among loose cannons, Richard is the smartest being in the city, and Simon is old-fashioned and a big supporter of traditional values. And then there's Walter. He can make the most seasoned warrior wet his pants just by looking at him. He's ruthless, cunning, and he'll stop at nothing to get what he and the Founders want."

"Sounds evil, yes?"

"I'm sick and tired of people accusing Black Wiccans of being evil!" Alfans growled. "Just because we have an eye on our own well-beings doesn't mean we're sadistic bastards! We champion the values of individuals instead of groups, and we don't suffocate people with rules like the Whites!" He calmed down and slumped on the desk. "The truth is, every school of Wicca is capable of great evil, not just Blacks. Reds destroy, Blues assimilate, Whites enslave, and Greens devour. It's not as simple as people make it out to be."

The party remained silent as Alfans lay on the table. A panda barmaid came to the table and stared at Alfans. "Ummmm, may I take your order?"

Lacre shrugged. "I guess I'll have some ham au gratin." The others nodded. "Four, please."

The barmaid jotted down their orders and grinned. "Right away!" She ran off to the back room to deliver the orders to the cook.

Lacre sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Well, I'm all out of questions. That just leaves us the question of what to do next, y'know?"

Alfans picked himself up and crossed his arms. "Usually we get hired to retrieve an object, then we get to work."

Lacre shrugged. "Sounds good to me. I guess we should start looking after dinner."

"Did someone say object retrieval?" asked another voice nearby. The group turned and noticed an anthro dragon standing behind Lacre. He was dressed in a snappy white suit and tie, and had scales of platinum and silvery eyes, along with a pair of ridged horns that rose six inches from his head.

"I believe I have a job for you," he stated.

------
FOUR
------

"A job?" Alfans asked the dragon.

"Yes, I-"

Alfans held up his hand. "Not yet." He spent about ten seconds chanting and performing hand signs, then his eyes glowed blue and silence fell upon the table. Everyone could see the other people in the tavern move their mouths, but no sound reached their ears.

Everyone at the table was silent as well, until Alfans crossed his arms and looked imploringly at the dragon. "Okay, now you can talk."

The dragon looked around at the inaudible surrounding and nodded. "Ah, a shroud of silence. Good thinking."

Alfans twirled his hand, bored with small talk. "Yes, yes, it's very impressive. Just tell us who you are and what you want to retrieve."

The dragon straightened his tie and cleared his throat. "Yes, of course. My name is Bertram Veronese, and I have a task for you, Alfans DeClario."

"No kidding. Spit it out, Mr. Veronese."

Bertram pulled away a chair from the table and sat down between Julia and Siegfried, then folded his hands. "Call me Bertram. As for what I want, it is a rare and elusive item known as the Lotus Box."

Julia burst out into a peal of laughter, rearing back in her chair, mouth open and tears welling up in her eyes. Alfans leaned his head onto his hand and gave Bertram a skeptical look. "Julia has a point, Bertram. The Lotus Box is, to put it bluntly, a fairy tale. There is absolutely no evidence that it ever existed.

Siegfried blinked in confusion. "I'm sorry?"

Alfans leaned his head on both hands this time. "Please tell me you know what the Lotus Box is, Siegfried."

"Even I know that!" Lacre exclaimed jokingly.

Siegfried blushed and shook his head.

"Allow me to explain, my good man," Bertram said. "Thousands of years ago, there existed a tribe of wizards that attempted to prove that it was knowledge, not ignorance, that provided the true path to happiness. They spent their lives determining the means to create heaven on Furrae, and the Lotus Box was the fruit of their efforts.

"The Lotus Box is an artifact of incredible power, a puzzle box made of sandalwood, one cubic foot on each side, inscribed with some of the most detailed engravings of lotuses in existence. Those who can open the box will 'learn of the path to happiness.'"

"What does that mean?" asked Siegfried.

"No one is quite sure," replied Bertram. "The original legend of the Lotus Box was translated from a long forgotten language about ten thousand years ago. As far as anyone can tell, the Box grants wishes to anyone who can solve the puzzle and open it."

"I see." Siegfried cupped his chin. "That explains why you want it so much. But what about the rest of the legend."

Bertram exhaled, blowing thin ribbons of smoke out of his nostrils. "I was just getting to that. There were some people in the world who believed that such an object was blasphemy, that happiness should never be so easy to achieve. And so the descendants of the original Lucrimm tribe watched over the Box and ensured that it was used properly. Then one day the tribe vanished, and the Box vanished with it. The only remaining piece is the tablet from which the legend is based.

"I should know," Bertram whispered, reaching underneath his seat. He pulled out a worn out marble tablet covered in ethereal letters and illustrations. "I'm the one who found the tablet."

"Oh really?" asked Alfans. "So you're the one who started that little legend, huh?"

Bertram looked slightly nervous. "Well, I don't like to brag..."

"Bulls---"

"Um, Alfans?" Lacre said warily. "He's a dragon. He could be a hundred thousand years old for all we know."

"Two hundred thousand, actually," Bertram said nonchalantly.

"I'll be the judge of that," Alfans retorted. "For all we know, you're just a cubi putting on airs. Siegfried, cast a true sight spell on him."

Siegfried sighed and cast the spell, emitting white light from his eyes. He looked upwards, far above where Bertram's head was, and dropped his jaw. The light faded from his eyes and he looked at Bertram again, than shakily turned to Alfans. "He's telling the truth, Alfans."

Alfans still looked skeptical. "I dunno. Aren't dragons supposed to be reclusive and snobbish towards other species?"

Bertram closed one eye halfway, the closest thing he could do to raising an eyebrow. "Well, if you still have doubts, I could always tell this group about the diamond-studded gold scepter you stole from me. You know, the one with the ruby at the end?"

Alfans's eye twitched. He had told few people about that scepter, and he told no one that it used to be tipped with a giant ruby. That ruby had broken off when he made a rather hasty retreat from the dragon's lair, and that brought down the price he could have asked for considerably. Come to think of it, Bertram did look a little familiar...

"That... was... you?" he asked after a small, yet uncomfortable pause.

Bertram nodded. "Indeed it was. But don't worry about it, old sport. All water under the drawbridge."

"Wow. A real dragon..." Lacre whispered.

Alfans was quick to regain his composure. "Alright, alright, I get the picture. But what other proof do you have that the Box exists, and furthermore, how do you plan on finding it?"

It was then that the panda barmaid returned, carrying five plates of food on a tray. "Four plates of ham au gratin," she said, quickly passing a plate to each member of the adventuring party. "And a chili con carne for you, sir," she whispered to Bertram, gently setting his plate down in front of him.

"Excellent service, Frieda," Bertram said cheerily. He dug into his pocket and handed her a few gold coins. "Keep up the good work."

The barmaid blushed and moved to another table, which seated a huge, muscular bear wearing chainmail and with a giant battleaxe. His entire right side was facing the group, leaving them unsure about what his left side looked like.

"As for your questions, Alfans," Bertram continued. "I have a plan, but that can wait until dinner is over." He placed a large ruby on the table in front of Alfans. It was the same ruby that was knocked from the scepter. "Consider this a down payment," he explained, before lifting a forkful of chili into his mouth.

Alfans palmed the ruby, then slipped it into his pocket and snapped his fingers. The shroud dispersed and the ears of the party were flooded with ambient chatter and eating sounds again.

The armored bear gave their table a glance, then looked back at the barmaid. "I'd also like a steak,. Rare with lots of spices, please." As the barmaid jotted down his order, he turned around suddenly to stare at the group more fully, revealing that he was missing his left arm. His eyes rested upon Lacre's face, and his face grew stony and blank. Lacre looked up briefly, locking eyes with the bear for a few seconds, then returned to his meal.

The bear gave a deep sigh, then got up from his chair. "On second thought, please deliver that steak to my room, too." He left and headed towards the wing of the inn that held the rooms. He turned to the third door from the left and knocked sharply on it. "Vincent! Vincent, it's me, Gallows! Open up, it's important!"

The door opened tentatively to reveal a very oddly dressed lemur. Most of his clothing was covered in black and white horizontal stripes, with the exception of his grey vest and his red beret. His long tail, and indeed the rest of his fur, was dyed black and white as well, with the exception of his face, which was completely white except for a couple of slash-shaped black marks over his eyes. He was currently leaning against the wall, or rather, a pocket of air a few feet from the wall. He smiled wryly at Gallows and looked at him inquiringly.

Gallows glared at the lemur's flat hand. "Stop that. You know it drives me nuts." He scooted past the lemur and dropped onto the bed. "I saw someone at the tavern, Vincent. Someone who looks like the one those creeps were after.

Vincent stepped backwards in surprise, backing into the edge of the doorway and banging his head. He grimaced and rubbed his head, although no words came from his mouth.

"Yeah, I know. It's not easy to forget what they did to us. But for some reason, they want this raccoon kid, so that means he's an important person, and we could use that to our advantage, couldn't we, Vincent?"

Vincent blinked, then let a smile creep slowly onto his face. He nodded vigorously, eager to get to work on another cash cow.

"Good. Now here's what we're gonna do..."

-----
FIVE
-----

After the dinner, Lacre and the rest of his party retired to Bertram's room. The dragon shut the door and sat down on his bed. "Right, then, what seems to be the problem, old sport?"

"Well," Alfans said as leaned back against the door. "You haven't told us the specifics of how we'll find the Lotus Box."

"Ah, yes. The specifics." Bertram leaned over his bed and fished around underneath it until he withdrew an enormous trunk. Although the container must have weighed a ton, Bertram gripped it by the handle and lifted it effortlessly onto the bed, causing a tired groan to erupt from the bed. He adjusted himself into sitting in the lotus position and unlatched the trunk, throwing the top back and motioning for the others to gather closer.

"In this case is all of the evidence I have gathered relating to the Lotus Box," he crooned, passing a scaly hand over the hundreds of ancient papers that littered the bottom of the trunk. Julia, who was currently looking over Bertram's shoulder, rubbed her eyes in disbelief.

"It is an impressive collection, Bertram," Siegfried remarked.

"Yeah, but how are we going to sort through it and find out where to start looking?" Lacre asked, from behind Bertram's other shoulder.

"Ah, that's the good news," Bertram replied. "I've already found several possible locations for the box and charted them here." He pulled out a manilla folder from the trunk and opened it, revealing a map of all of Furrae with several circles marked in red ink. He moved it aside to reveal a more detailed map of one of the circled locations, presumably the first of many such maps.

"These are the places where either it is rumored that some of the Lucrimm tribe's outposts were located during their time, or where the Lotus Box has apparently been sighted."

"Or replicas," Alfans remarked drily.

"Or replicas, yes. But I'm not taking any chances on this operation."

"And another thing. Why do you need us for this? If you're a dragon as old as you say you are, shouldn't you be able to do all of this work yourself?"

Bertram sighed. "I was just getting to that." He closed his eyes and gestured with his hand as he spoke. "There are three reasons why had to hire help for this affair. Firstly, I am currently attempting to get on the Creature Council, an activity which takes up more effort than directing this search."

Lacre raised an eyebrow. "Wait, so how come you're here right now? I mean, unless you're in two places at once, yes?"

Bertram nodded. "Correct. You're currently speaking to a doppelganger I've created to supervise you. I can form a mental link to this creature, as well as have it transform into my other form in order to transport you. Unfortunately, this substitute lacks my combat prowess and magical ability.

"Great," Alfans groaned. "That means we'll have to do all of your fighting for you."

"Are you surprised, old sport? This job has already earned you a magnificent ruby and all you've done to earn it is listen to my proposal! Another reason I need your assistance is because it is quite likely that we will venture underground for our mission, and many of my abilities will not function there."

"Kind of hard to get bigger in a labyrinth, yes?" Lacre speculated.

"Exactly. The final, most important reason is this: Assuming that the Lotus Box is still resting in the place the Lucrimm clan set it in, it will be under a rather unusual piece of protection." He showed them a scrap of paper that showed the security procedures of the Lucrimm clan. "According to this, the Lucrimms didn't trust outsiders to handle the power of the Lotus Box, and as such enacted measurements to prevent them from manipulating it. Unfortunately, they could not narrow the access to only allow other Lucrimms, so they settled for allowing only beings to retrieve the box."

"Umm, if that's the case," Julia mentioned, "then there's something you should know about us..."

"I'm well aware of your Wiccan heritage, and that Wiccans are not eligible as beings. But I also know that one among your party is." Bertram turned his head and looked cheerfully at Lacre.

"Wow," Lacre chuckled. "I'm already paying my way into the party, yes?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Alfans admitted grudgingly.

"So it's settled, then," Bertram concluded, putting his papers back in his trunk and slamming it shut. "I'll fly you to the sites, whereupon you will attempt to find the Lotus Box. If we should fail, we'll start over at another location."

"What if we don't find the box?"

"If that unfortunate scenario comes to pass, you will still be paid half of the proposed fee for this assignment. I don't believe in leaving hired help out in the cold, after all. We'll start in the morning, after a good night's rest."

"Wait," Lacre blurted out. "Alfans, I'm a little curious about something."

Aflans rolled his eyes and sat down on the bed next to Lacre. "What's on your mind, kid?"

"Well, I was wondering how you ended up with Siegfried and Julia. I mean, you say you hate them almost all of the time, and yet you still choose to travel with them, y'know? What gives?"

Alfans furrowed his brow, preparing himself to answer the young raccoon's question. "You're right, kid. When I first met Siegfried, I couldn't stand him. My parents died before I was old enough to remember them, and so my older brother Artemis had to take care of me throughout my childhood, but then he died in a disastrous police raid right before I was set to go to the Institute. That's where I met Siegfried and Julia."

"I tried to be friendly towards Alfans at first," Siegfried continued, "but the man brushed me off quite harshly. Because I was the son of the Haven City Chief of Police, his head was already swimming with stereotypes and judgments about me, thanks to his brother's teachings at the time and the manner of his brother's death. It was these same teachings that made him take offense to my cousin here." He motioned towards Julia.

Julia picked up the beat. "Apparently that brother of his warned him about sex, and those people who enjoy it as a way of life. I was still a virgin at that time, but I was overflowing with hormones and he could smell them a mile away. He was a loner through pretty much all of our years at the Institute."

Alfans sighed. Recounting his past was something he obviously wasn't fond of doing. "After we graduated, Siegfried became a cop and Julia took over her father's nightclub, the Burning Heart. I was hired by the Haven City Covert Ops Sleeper Division. We would disguise ourselves as furres and infiltrate the outside world, gathering information about what happened there. I found out that I enjoyed being a treasure hunting furre more than being a spy, so I cut off connections with the city.

"And so went my life until one of my jobs went horribly wrong..." Alfans paused and got up off of his bed. "That's all for now. I think we could all use some sleep, okay."

Lacre shrugged. "Sure. I am feeling pretty tired, y'know."

In the span of an hour they arranged for their own rooms to stay in, and were fast asleep, as well as a certain bear and lemur in the adjacent rooms.

----
SIX
----

"---- here. This better be good."
"Spare me your crude mannerisms, Predator, and listen carefully."
"Oh, it's you. What the hell do you want?"
"I'm not fond of your tone of voice. Have you forgotten who your superiors are?."
"Pfft. Whatever. Just get it out of your system."
"Ugh. Very well. ---- has found our target. He's ready."
"No kidding. And I expect you want me to take him?"
"No, not yet. Simply deliver the message. Even a boor like you can accomplish this."
"What was that? I don't like your attitude, you snotty little @#$^. You'd better go easy with the insults or-"
"You seem to be forgetting who has the cards. I know the ways of your ilk, Predator, and I can easily take away your simple-minded pleasures. Need I remind you of what happened to your predecessor?"
"Alright, you win. Just tell me where to find him and get off the damn phone..."

On the second day that Alfans' party worked with Bertram, they were hiking through the woods to the first location of a Lotus Box sighting. They advanced in a line, arranged in order to effectively prevent sneak attacks. Bertram marched in front, pushing aside various plants out of the party's way. Not only was he the only member who knew the way to their destination, but he had picked up a few tracking skills over the millennia, and could function as a scout in a pinch. Next came Lacre, who had professed to decent martial arts skills and could help in case of a frontal assault. Julia stood in the middle for optimum protection; seeing as how she relied on fire magic most of the time, it wouldn't have too many adverse effects on her. Siegfried rounded out the protection requirements at the fourth slot, and Alfans brought up the rear, well-prepared to defend against any sneak attacks.

As was usual for his idiom, Alfans was complaining about a lack of efficiency in the group. "We're wasting time here. I'd think that flight would be a quicker method to get to the site."

Bertram sighed and swerved around a large tree. "It takes energy for this doppelganger to change forms and fly. The destination is so close that the amount of time we save by flying is practically negligible. It would be a bigger waste of time waiting for me to get my strength back. Trust me, Alfans, this will save us time in the long run."

Alfans sighed and continued scanning the area. "We can't get attacked in the air..." he mumbled.

"What are you basing this on? I'm not the only creature capable of flight."

"Yeah, but at least we'll be able to see them coming. It's not exactly a clear view in here."

"True, but what will you do once you see your assailants? I'd wager that none of you are experienced with fighting on the back of a dragon."

Alfans thought about how to respond and was disappointed to find that he lacked a suitable response.

"Stealth is an important factor in battle, Alfans, but it is by no means the only one. If your logic was correct, every common thug who got the drop on a skilled warrior would walk away victorious and clean as a whistle. But we both know the world doesn't work that way."

Alfans gave a snort of derision and continued on his way. No sooner had he taken four paces than the entire group was lifted unceremoniously into the air, clumped together in a small ball. "Motherf-... Bertram! What the hell is this?"

Bertram was positioned at the edge of the clump, being pressed against... something. "Well, it feels like a net, but I can't see anything."

Alfans sputtered. "So you're telling me that we got caught by an invisible net? Great. Lacre's boot is grinding my face because of this. What now, genius?"

Bertram wiggled around, trying to get into position to grab onto the ropes. "I'm working on it as we speak, old sport." He grabbed onto a piece of rope and bit down. "Ugh! Oh dear. These ropes are quite solid. I'm not sure I'll be able to break them."

Siegfried sighed, although the sound was muffled because he was at the center of the group. "I'd use my sword, but I'm pinned down and I can't draw it without hurting you."

"Ahem." A new voice reached the ears of the party, and there was a great deal of shuffling as the group tried to move their faces and get a glance at the bottom of the forest. Whoever succeeded could take a gander at the one-armed bear in chainmail, carrying a large poleaxe. He looked just a little bit pleased at the captured game he was addressing. "I'd like to have a word with the raccoon, if that's alright with you."

"Alright, I'll bite," Alfans grumbled. "Who the hell are you?"

"Name's Gallows," replied the bear. "And I was actually referring to the other raccoon, the one with the long black hair."

"Oh, you've gotta be kidding me!"

Lacre collected his hair, currently splayed over Julia's body, and flipped over in order to properly face Gallows. "Um, hey. What's going on? Why did you set this trap for us?"

Gallows shrugged. "Well, technically, I didn't." He pointed to a nearby tree and made a come-hither motion with his hand, at which point a lemur dressed in mime regalia emerged from behind the tree and tipped his beret to the group, making a show of bowing to them in greeting. "Vincent did."

"A mime?" Alfans shrieked. "We got tricked by a mime?"

"It's actually quite a bit more effective than most people suspect," Gallows explained. "Setting an invisible rope trap means that the visual cues that most people look for don't exist. Besides, the ropes are made of magical force. Good luck breaking that. Now then," He looked directly at Lacre. "I have something I need to tell you."

"Alright, I'm all ears," Lacre replied casually.

"You're in big trouble, um..."

"Lacre." Lacre grabbed the ropes and began pulling them apart.

"Lacre. There are some very powerful furres after you, and judging from how easily you fell for the trap, I doubt you'll stand a fighting chance against them." Gallows looked quite serious at this announcement. "We're here to help you fight them o... What are you doing?"

Lacre was wriggling through the net, poking his torso through the hole in the net. "I'm escaping from the net. Is that okay? I think we can negotiate better if I'm not suspended in midair."

Vincent gaped at Lacre, while Gallows sighed. "Fine. Go ahead."

"You didn't answer our question from earlier, old sport," Bertram reminded them. "Why was the net necessary?"

Gallows thought a bit, then sighed. "I suppose we were worried that you would walk away before we could fully explain ourselves." He heard a thud as Lacre landed somewhat clumsily on his feet. "Look, just because you figured out our net doesn't mean you'll be able to fight these goons off. Look what they did to us!" Gallows turned his head to the stump where his left arm used to be, and Vincent lifted his head and pointed to a thing scar on his neck. "They cut off my arm and destroyed Vince's vocal chords just for fun! There's no telling what they'll do to their actual target!"

Lacre flicked an ear and tilted his head in confusion. "Why do they want me again?"

Gallows groaned in exasperation. "We don't know! All we know is that they kept talking about a raccoon with long black hair! Whatever these bastards want with you, you'll almost certainly suffer because of it!"

"Brilliant deduction, stumpy," cooed a voice as slippery as silicone lubricant. The most of the group looked alert, and Gallows and Vincent looked more than a little bit nervous. "Don't you worry about a thing, coonboy," the voice taunted. "This won't hurt a bit!"

-------
SEVEN
-------

"You know," the interloper's voice taunted, "seeing all of you strung up like that is quite the turn on..."

"Aw, will you just shut up and attack already?" Alfans yelled.

"Whatever you say, pal!" A thick, ropelike object shot from the canopy of one of the trees. It was hard to say what it was exactly, because it was completely black, even when it sped through a well-lit area. It seemed like a combination of a rope and a tentacle, except it was pointed at the end, and exceptionally sharp.

The target was Alfans, who had just realized that he was pinned and unable to dodge.

Alfans resisted the temptation to shut his eyes, in case something else caught his attention. His eyes darted wildly around the area for a few seconds before he felt an itching sensation on his nose.

The tentacle had hit him, but only just enough to draw blood. A lone scarlet droplet appeared, but rather than sliding down its surface, it was absorbed into the tip, whereupon the black cord retracted just as quickly into the leafy branches. "Somehow, I doubt you're in a position to complain, fleshbag. So just shut the hell up and leave me to my work."

Vincent's ears perked up, and he tapped Gallows on the shoulder.

"What?" Gallows asked.

Vincent looked around the area, then held up one finger and pointed it at the brach where the cord-like object had emerged.

Gallows looked around and listened for anyone else. Aside from that one branch, the entire area seemed normal. "There's only one of them..."

He narrowed his eyes. When these people disabled him and Vincent, there were at least two of them, maybe more. They had been overwhelmed and had little chance of victory. But with only one opponent to, and Lacre to assist them, they might still have a shot.

He nodded to Vincent, and together they rushed at the tree. Once Gallows reached the tree's base, he spun around and swung his axe into the trunk. Vincent also stopped, cupped his hands around the air, as though gripping a warhammer, then made a hefting motion aimed at the tree. The two blows hit at the same time, causing the tree to vibrate.

"Whoa!" A black shape fell from the braches. It looked a bit like a furre, but it was hard to tell because it was completely black. As it fell from the tree, another cord shot out from it and wrapped itself around another branch. From an uside-down position, it almost certainly looked like a furre, vaguely feline, judging from the ears. It was wearing a jacket, and one of its hands was occupied with carrying a furry, wide-brimmed hat. Where its tail would be was instead the cord that was wrapped around the branch, and its legs, dressed in some sort of dress pants, were wrapped around it. The physique was slim, but definitely male. There was a dim indigo light shimmering from a spot at the center of his collarbone.

The cord extended and lowered the blackness to the ground, where he landed on all fours. Once he stood up and put his hat back on, the cord unwrapped and shortened into a normal cat's tail. "Pretty gutsy for a couple of crips like you. I guess you didn't learn your lesson the last time?"

Gallows spat on the forest floor and ground the saliva in with his boot.. "We want our bodies back the way they were, you son of a bitch!"

The blackness shrugged. "Sorry, stumpy. I'm not the guy you're looking for. So unless you want to die pointlessly, I suggest that you and Silent Bob get lost."

Gallows tightened the grip on his axe. "Not until you tell us why Lacre's so important to you."

The blackness put his hands on his hips and stared down the barbarian. "Now, now, I can't go giving away trade secrets to just anyone! Since when do you care about one coon you don't know anyway, fleshbag?"

Gallows grinned . "I dunno. Just eager to get in your way, I guess."

"So be it. I hope you're not as tender as you look!" The blackness extended a hand towards them and another cord shot forward in Gallows's direction. Vincent stepped in front of gallows and mimed himself pressing against a wall. Sure enough, a barrier was erected just in time to deflect the cord. As soon as the cord struck, though, it whipped around the barrier and slapped Vincent in the face. No sooner had Vincent fallen to the side than the cord wrapped around his body and began to choke him.

Gallows's eyes widened. He raised his axe hand struck at the cord. Unfortunately, the cord moved out of the way quite easily, leaving the axe in the ground and Gallows off balance.

The blackness gripped the cord tightly and laughed. "That was clumsy of you! I guess your heart just isn't in... huh?"

Vincent had grabbed a small length of the cord with both hands, ripe and ready to cut. Gallows flipped over and swung the axe upward, this time to connect and sever the cord. Vincent took in a deep breath and shook himself off, letting what seemed to be long, thick strands of black and white fur fall to the ground.

"Fur? That's your fur?" Gallows asked in confusion.

The blackness snapped his wrist back and withdrew the cord of fur back into his hand. "You got it. I can grow my fur into whatever I-" He was interrupted by a heavy blow to the back of the head. As he fell forward, Lacre was revealed behind him, lowering his foot from an outstretched position high in the air to its normal stance on the ground. "Hey, it's pretty dumb of you to ignore someone in battle, y'know?"

"So that's what the combat boots are for," Siegfried remarked. "How unorthodox."

The blackness held out its arms and caught himself before he hit the ground. His legs shot out and knocked Lacre on his tail. "Call that a kick? You managed to catch me completely off guard and get a direct shot to my head, and yet you barely cause any damage! You must be some kind of rank amateur." He pushed himself back into a standing position and spun around to face Lacre, who had also gotten back on his feet.

"Huh. So why seek out a rank amateur?" he asked.

"Sorry, coonboy. It's a secret. But you'll understand someday." The blackness shot out another fur cord at Lacre, but before it could reach its target, it was cut through by an unseen force, the segment farthest from the blackness splitting into useless fur.

Vincent hung back at the edge of the area, twirling what appeared to be an invisible tomahawk with his fingers. The blackness turned and caught him in the corner of his eye. "Ah, so that costume really does show who you are. That suits me just fine..."

Suddenly, both Vincent and Gallows fell flat on their faces. Closer inspection would reveal two more of those black cords tied around their feet, expanding to cover the whole of their bodies. The cords vanished into the depths of the forest, where a similar pair of cords had traveled after beginning their journey from the blackness's legs. The pair of adventurers were now trapped and helpless, thanks to a simple distraction.

'...After all," the blackness continued, "I would expect a master of the 'invisible box' technique to be familiar with the feeling of being trapped." He withdrew something from his pocket and held it out to Lacre. It was a blue cell phone, and it began to ring. "It's for you, 'Lacre.'"

"Don't take it, Lacre!" Julia yelled through the net. "Would you take candy from strangers?"

"Good question," the blackness replied. "Let me respond with another one. Would you follow orders for the sake of strangers?" As he said those words, the cords binding Vincent and Gallows tightened, causing Gallows to cry out in pain. Vincent could not indulge in this luxury, merely grit his teeth as tears strained down his face.

"Alright, alright, you win," Lacre said, dismissing the blackness with a wave, and heading towards him at the same time. "I'll answer it, uh, name please?"

"Predator will do," said the blackness as it pressed the cell phone into Lacre's hand. Lacre flipped it open and held it to his ear, pressing the on button in the process. "Hello?"

The cords relaxed their grip on their victims, merely restraining them instead of harming them.

"Who are you?" asked a voice on the other line.

"I'm Lacre. Lacre Almasy."

"No," said the voice in an uncomfortable rasp. It sounded quite ill. "I meant your identity, not your name."

"Well, what else should I say?" Lacre asked. He was beginning to get agitated.

"I see. You are...unsure. You do not know why I hate you with all of my soul."

"Huh?"

"You make me sick. I will show you the error of your ways."

Lacre heard a few more words, and then nothing more. He could no longer see the forest or the trees...

[bill]

Hello! These sort of posts should go into the "Art" section of the board. 

[Suwako]

Indeed please reposition this threat into the Tower of Art (Art Forum)
and welcome to the new forum Doik 

[Damaris]

*uses her admin powers of coolness to relocate the thread*

[Suwako]

*uses her admin powers of coolness to relocate the thread*

thanks Damaris.

[Damaris]

np

[Doink]

Heh. My bad. Thanks.

Apparently there's only so much I can put in one post, so the rest of the story goes here:

-------
EIGHT
-------

What Lacre saw was a most interesting hallway, painted in a shade of yellow that managed to look pleasing to the eye, rather than just appear disgusting. He took a look around and scratched his head. Where did everyone else go?

"Alfans?" he called out, somehow knowing that he would get no answers. After waiting a few moments, his suspicions were confirmed.

"Great. Alone again, naturally." Lacre took a good look around him. The hallway seemed to stretch infinitely in both directions, as well as being dotted on with flat-screened TVs about a few inches apart. The TVs were flush against the wall, seamlessly blending in to the surface of the wall, and seemed to have only one button, an on switch. Curious, Lacre switched on the one nearest him and watched screen.

He was surprised to find a familiar scene staring back at him, a recording of the incident at the coffeeshop when the Almasies had first crossed paths with the party of humans. The angle from which the camera viewed this event changed flawlessly to capture every detail of the rogue creature's failed attempt at robbery, despite the fact that there could not have been any cameras in such impossible positions.

"How could they have gotten a closeup of Alfans's face?" Lacre asked humorously. The TV soon switched itself off as soon as the Lacre it displayed left the coffeeshop. "Huh?" Lacre switched it back on, only to find that it replayed that same scene. He flicked it back off and turned his attention to the one immediately left of it. It showed Lacre sitting on a park bench, checking his PDA and finding out that he had an appointment with his family at the coffeeshop.

"What kind of guy has the patience to record my entire life?" Lacre asked himself. Sure, he was interesting sometimes, but there were parts of his life that were mind-numbingly boring. Still, he wondered just how far back these recordings went.

A few minutes later, he could be seen sprinting down the hallway, watching the TV screens whiz by. He was mesmerized by the visual effect they produced, blurring together like a stripe of median lines on a highway. He was so enthralled, in fact, that he didn't notice that the hallway ended until he collided with the wall there, knocking him flat on his tail.

"Ow..." He rubbed his head, quite sore from the impact, and looked up. Next to the leftmost video screen was a foreboding door made of what appeared to be sandalwood. In the past, this door may have been barred, locked, and chained shut, preventing absolutely all access, but now those chains and locks lay broken on the floor, leaving the door quite penetrable.

Lacre got up and switched on the first monitor. The scene showed a much young Majo discovering a basket on his doorstep, which was revealed to contain a baby raccoon being. "Wow. These guys sure are thorough." He switched it off and turned to the door. It was the only possible way out of this place, and he didn't want to stay here any longer than necessary.

"Son of a...!" He couldn't see a thing on the other side of the door. It was cast in total blackness; not even any of those TVs could be seen on the other side. Lacre sighed and began to close the door when something caught his attention: a static-filled screen shining from the darkness. He ran over to it, hoping that some sort of clue could be provided.

The image on the screen was much less clear than the ones in the hallway. Most of the time it displayed thick static, although a few times Lacre swore he could make out an image of many people slumped all over a large room filled with tables, and one man standing at the end, watching them. The details were barely discernible, and it quickly switched back to the endless static.

Lacre was growing bored. "Ugh. I wonder how long I'll be stuck here."

The image onscreen suddenly burst into startling clarity, catching Lacre off guard. He saw another raccoon onscreen, one with short, unkempt hair and a thin face, being pinned to a wall, his feet wriggling at least six inches above the ground. He wore a white robe decorated with pastel patterns that Lacre supposed were normally meant to pacify the viewer, although it had little to no effect on him, given the present situation.

There was one other raccoon in the scene, trying to strangle the life out of this strange raccoon. He wore the same style of robe, but his body was trembling with rage, rather than pain. The veins in his hands were clearly visible as they wrapped around the victim's neck. The black ponytail hanging from his head reached almost to the ground. He was a tall, thin raccoon that Lacre found disturbingly familiar...

And then, as if to press Lacre's shock level to the breaking point, The camera switched angles to get a look at the aggressor's face. Aside from the raging snarl on that face, and the lack of sunglasses on that muzzle, he could recognize the raccoon on camera; he saw him in the mirror every day.

Lacre rubbed his eyes in disbelief, hoping to get a closer look at the screen. But it was gone, and so was the dark room. He was sitting in the forest, in the same spot he had received the call on the cell phone. Said cell phone lay in pieces on the ground, and when he reached to pick them up, he winced and discovered that some of them had sliced into the palm of his hand.

"Hey, asshole!" Lacre looked up to the wildly swinging invisible net, and the four people that were still trapped within. They looked somewhat more bruised than before, and Julia was looking severely irritated. "What the f--- do you think you were doing?" she roared.

"What? What happened?" Lacre asked, confused as to why Julia suddenly seemed to act like a completely different person.

"You don't know?" Siegfried asked. "When you talked on the cell phone, the villain let Gallows and Vincent go and ran away. Then you crushed the phone with your hand, and then all of the sudden, these gale-force winds just flowed from you and batted us around. It also knocked Gallows and Vincent into some nearby trees."

Lacre took a look around. Gallows and Vincent had indeed crashed into some rather large trunks, and while they didn't appear to be seriously injured, they looked like they hadn't had a pleasant trip at all. "Did I do that?" Lacre whispered.

Vincent blinked and looked at Lacre, then at the party. He cupped his hand in a crossbow-holding position and mimed pulling a trigger. The group in the net fell to the ground, whereupon they managed to get to their feet. Alfans rushed up to Lacre and snatched his hand. "You've got some explaining to do, you little pissant," he snarled.

"It wasn't me!" Lacre protested. "I don't even remember breaking that phone!"

"Oh really?" Alfans asked, holding Lacre still. "Let me check up on that." He chanted a few arcane words, causing blue light to emanate from his eyes, and raised his hand, securing it his Lacre's forehead.

Before Lacre could protest, the image of the two raccoons in a fight filled his vision again. He refused to believe that he was the one attacking the other, but the vision continued to worry him. He could feel Alfans's dissatisfaction, feel him pushing deeper into his mind, and he was unable to stop him.

The next scene that Alfans brought up was one that Lacre had hoped to have put behind him forever. A younger, teenaged Lacre kneeled next to a coffin on an open field, surrounded by thousands for furres, including his father and brother. All of them wore black, and some of the women wore hats with black veils. None of them looked particularly happy to be there. Kijo stood completely still, staring at the coffin as through he was in shock. Majo looked regretful and worn down, the missed opportunities that haunted his mind projected on his face for anyone who cared to look for it. Lacre's face was wracked his pain, the fur between his cheeks and his mouth matted down with tears. He couldn't even bear to stand up.

All of the details of that evening came flooding back into Lacre's memory: the way the soft ground felt on his hands, the stiffness of the suit that he wore, the dull clunking sounds the coffin made as it was lowered into the earth, never to be seen again, and worst of all, the way his body and mind felt, knowing that he would never get to meet the person inside of it for as long as he lived.

Lacre blinked tears from his eyes as the forest returned to focus. Siegfried has wrested Alfans away from him, and looked grimly at Lacre's face. "What did you do to him, Alfans?" he questioned.

Alfans pushed Siegfried away and gave an audible sniff. "Hmmph. All I did was look at his memories and see if he did it on purpose or not. Apparently I brought up something traumatic. Whose funeral was that?"

Lacre could barely reply. "M-my mother's. She k-killed herself when I was fifteen..."

Julia hung her head and sighed. "Wow..." Siegfried and Bertram looked uneasy, while Alfans merely rolled his eyes.

"Excuse me?" The group turned and noticed that Gallows and Vincent had gotten up.

"Yeah? What do you want?" Alfans spat.

Gallows looked uneasy. "Well, before we were interrupted, I was going to make a proposal. Those freaks want something from you, Lacre, and I doubt that whatever that phone call did was the end of it."

"What's your point?"

"My point is that we know how to fight them, and we can help protect you from them. We'll be happy to do it free of charge, so there's no worrying about fees, right?"

Lacre nodded and moved towards Gallows, hand outstretched. "Sounds good to me!" He didn't get two steps before Alfans held his arm in front of Lacre, barring his path.

"No. Not until we know what's in it for you. No one helps someone for no reason, not anyone. So talk."

Vincent slumped forward, indicating his disappointment, and held his hand around his throat. Gallows looked once again at the stump of his arm. "Sigh... When they injured us, they also put a curse on us just for fun. Normally we could just earn the scratch to pay for healing, but thanks to those bastards, no healer on Furrae can cure us."

Alfans chuckled. "Yeah, that's a real shame."

"Anyways, the only way we can get our bodies restored is if we hunt them down and make them remove the curse."

Alfans gave the two of them an appraising look, then shook his head. "No."

Gallows furrowed his eyebrows and took a step forward. "What? Why the hell not? You think you can take out these guys by yourselves, huh?" he yelled, practically in Alfans's face.

Alfans didn't flinch one bit. "That's not the issue. When we first met, I was dangling from a net. Did you really think I'd forget that?"

That expression took the all of the wind out of Gallows's sails. He continued to glare at Alfans, but it had no teeth, and he knew it.

"Siegfried?" Alfans glanced at Siegfried, implying that he should continue.

"This is a matter of trust," Siegfried explained. "You thought nothing of immobilizing us and disabling us just to get a chance to talk. If we're going to work together, we need some sort of basis to form trust on, and you destroyed that before we were officially introduced. If we only met occasionally, this wouldn't be an issue, but you insist on traveling with us constantly, being with us during dangerous moments, and we have no reason to believe that you wouldn't hang us out to dry during such crucial situations."

"Yeah, I've still got rope burn from your trap," Julia added.

Vincent shook his head wildly, moving his hands in front of him. Gallows tried to put on a disarming smile. "Look, honest mistake, okay?"

"Forget it," Alfans said. "You've proven just how much we can rely on you."

Gallows looked alarmed "But-"

"Piss off." Alfans turned around and began walking out of the forest. "Where were we going, Bertram?"

Bertram blinked, surprised that he was being addressed after being on the sidelines for so long. "Mm, well, there should be some old ruins not far from here, old sport."

Alfans gave him a curt nod. "Great. Let's go." Most of the group pushed their way through the trees and vanished from sight, but Lacre stayed behind and gave Gallows a regretful look.

"Sorry, guys," he said with a shrug.

Gallows looked away and put on a stoic face. "No worries. We can find 'em on our own."

Lacre smiled and followed the rest of his friends through the forest.

At the edge of the forest, a black shape calmly strode out of the woods. His head turned from left to right, checking for intruders, before the indigo spot on his chest dimmed down, and the light washed over his body, where it had been denied access inside the forest.

The intruder was revealed to be an albino tiger, with an intricate, dazzling array of stripes patterned into his fur. He obviously took very good care of his body, as his exposed chest had a six-pack that many working-class men would kill for. The rest of his body was just as impressive and healthy, covered only by a pair of khaki shorts.

His face, while accentuating what a powerhouse this cat could be in bed, might also give a man of pure heart a reason to worry. His eyes looked as sharp as knives, as though they might slit your throat if you let your guard down. Completing his predatory image was a mouth that was usually contorted in a smirk, with canine teeth that barely peeked over the edge.

The tiger began laughing as he reached down and grabbed his crotch, grinning and exposing pale white teeth as he did so. "Ha ha ha! Another win for Chaz Parson!" He walked away with his arms behind his head, looking back at the forest only once. "Heh. See ya later, coon boy."

-----
NINE
-----

It seemed like an eternity of marching through forest, but eventually the party was greeted by the radiance of the sun. It was almost a surreal sight that greeted them, with the sun’s rays blurring the visions of the pale grasses that lined the forest floor. The trees on the other side of the clearing were far away, almost over the horizon. They seemed to be keeping their distance from something, but none of the party could see what it could be.

“Alright,” Bertram noted. “The mark is somewhere in this clearing. Spread out and search, old sports.”

A collective groan issued from the weary travelers. “Can’t we take a rest?” Julia complained. She was hunched over and on the brink of collapse, her robes disheveled from trudging through the brush.

Alfans stood behind her, ready to catch her if her strength gave out. “As much as I’d like to get this job over with, I don’t think we should push ourselves too hard. Julia and I are gonna rest up a bit. Anyone else feel like joining in?” He looked at his companion in formerly shining armor. “Siegfried, I know you could use a break.”

“Nonsense!” Siegfried tried to shout. “I could carry on all day! Just because I...” His words grew fainter until he fell facedown into the grass, making a cacophonous clanging.

“Idiot,” Alfans grumbled. He gently planted himself in the ground, urging Julia to follow his lead. She did so, sitting next to him and placing an arm on his shoulders. This only made him give her a look and scoot away from her.

Lacre didn’t know what to make of that display. Huh. I guess he’s trying to keep his distance. But why would he travel with them at all if he didn’t like spending time with them?

The raccoon contemplated joining them, but for some reason, he didn’t feel tired at all. At some point in their journey through the woods, after Predator had given them a shock, Lacre suddenly felt like he had woken up from the mother of hibernations. He didn’t know what to do with all the extra energy at first, but eventually he just rolled with it and walked at the head of the group. Now it seemed like he’d have to do enough searching for four people, but he didn’t feel resentful about it at all.

It’s from the call. Gotta be. So it gives me energy in exchange for weird mind trips? I’ve heard of worse. He began pacing about the clearing, looking for anything odd in the ground.

“Ah, it’s good to see you so enthusiastic,” he heard Bertram say. He looked to his right and saw taloned dragon feet, then up and into Bertram’s face. “I’m glad that you decided to join me, old sport. Do you remember what I said earlier?”

Lacre nodded. “The entrance can only be opened by a being, right?

“Precisely.”

Lacre took a few more steps, then stopped and looked at Bertram again. “Um, Bertram, can I call my family? They’re probably worried sick about me, y’know.”

Bertram reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone. “I suppose if you can multitask, then it won’t be a problem.”

Lacre took the phone and dialed in the number for his house, holding it to his ear with his shoulder as he walked. After a few rings, he heard Kijo’s voice on the other end, sounding rather tired. “Hello?”

“Hey, Kijo, it’s me. Can you put Dad on?”

Kijo’s voice brightened up considerably. “Lacre! You’re alive!”

“Well, what did you expect? They’re not savages, y’know. They’re actually kind of nice when you get to know them.”

“Well, if you say so.” It was clear that Kijo wasn’t entirely convinced. “Dad! Lacre wants to talk to you!” he said, slightly muffled. There was a shuffling sound, then Majo’s voice came on.

“Lacre? Are you all right? How are they treating you?”

“I’m fine, Dad. Siegfried and Julia have been pretty nice to me, but Alfans is trying to brush me off.”

“He’s the thin one, right?”

“Yeah. He kinda gives off the impression that he doesn’t really like anyone, y’know? Anyway, we went to a tavern, had a good meal, then this dragon, Bertram, he offered us a job and now we’re looking for a sandalwood box.”

“Ah, that sounds exciting.”

Lacre lowered his voice, giving it a more urgent tone. “Listen, Dad, something really weird happened to me a few hours back. Someone attacked us, but all he did was give me a phone call, and when I heard it, I blanked out and some sort of force attacked my friends, while I had this really weird hallucination.”

“Oh dear. It sounds like there was some sort of subliminal message in that call. Can you describe the person who attacked you?”

“Um, not really. He was pitch black, like a silhouette, except for this glow near his collar.”

Lacre heard nothing for a few seconds, then his father resumed speaking, this time with an edge of panic. “Lacre, if you ever see that man again, I want you to run. Run as far as you can and don’t look back.”

The sudden change of tone caused Lacre to relax his shoulder, sending the phone tumbling down a few feet before he caught it again. He held it to his ear with his hand, and tried to soothe Majo. “Dad, most of us were tied up when he attacked. I’m sure if they were free...”

“Don’t push it, Lacre! Just take my advice! If that man is who I think he is, and he’s interested in you, you’re in big trouble! Look, I have to go now. Something’s come up. But please, don’t take any chances.”

“Alright, alright!” Lacre replied, flustered with Majo’s tone. “Can you just tell me what-” He heard the disappointing sound of a dial tone on the cell phone. Sighing, he snapped it shut and handed it back to Bertram.

“Don’t worry about it, old sport,” Bertram replied jovially as he returned the phone to its place in his suit. “Your father’s just worried about your well-being.”

“That’s not it,” Lacre mumbled. “It sounded like he knew this guy. I hate being left out of the-” He stopped and felt the ground with the sole of his shoe, then kneeled down and took a look at where he had just stepped. The one area of the floor not covered by grass was a shallow recess in a stone. “Bertram, what does this look like to you?” he asked.

Bertram leaned forward and adjusted his glasses. “I believe that’s a handprint, old sport.”

Lacre let his hand rest in the recess and felt a pleasant tingle engulf his arm. “Heh. Hey Bertram, you’ve got to try this!”

Bemused at Lacre’s words, Bertram knelt down and put his hand down on the stone. “I don’t think I follow.”

“What, you don’t feel anything?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Hey!” Julia yelled from the other side of the clearing. Lacre and Bertram ran over to discover her looking into a large hole in the ground. She was shaking with mirth and trying not to giggle out loud. “Did you two drop Alfie down there?”

“If you laugh, I’ll kill you!” Alfan’s voice shouted from below. It was hard to tell if he was serious or not.

Lacre peered down the hole. It didn’t seem that deep, judging from how close Alfans’s voice sounded. “So Bertram, is this the ‘beings only’ entrance that you were talking about?”

Bertram nodded. “Nicely done, Lacre. Shall we proceed?”