//I cannot find just a picture to do it justice but to give everone a very close facimle to the size of scars forces of two hundred thousand legionaires and lord ulniks some three hundred thousand monsterous band I turn you to an iconic seige where two hundred thousand orcs laid seige to a bastion of humanity.
At 2:03 2:06 the steward peers down at the army sprawled at his cities gates, get a good look i need say no more.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UbH8TfQfziw
Shards Of History
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*WhenWizardsWar
- Posts: 353
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
"There is something in the mist" (WARNING, GRAPHIC CONTENT)
-Keith-
The haunting melody becomes softer and softer as the mist lures keith away from the group.
Wait...was it luring him away or was he just getting lost?.
As Keith creeps through the mist, ever wary of danger tendrils of grey-white glide into his nostrils and his ears.
Keith suddenly finds himself back in Sigil, in a sterile infirmary, a few friends standing by as he undergoes a critical procedure.
He cant make out most of the voices, be he can see faces...he should remember that day so long ago. The thing that catch's his attention is the man performing the procedure, William, a friend and companion so long ago, stands poised over Keiths body with a sharp surgical implement, cutting slowly and precisely.
And in the wrong places, considering the work that needed to be done. The pain suddenly catchs up with Keith, apparently no anesthietic or medication has been used. Keith can move and look and to his utter horror he -must- watch as William coldly and bloodily removes a long tendril of cartildge bone and muscle.
"Such a coward, you pathetic excuse for a warrior, you lack courage, and resolve...you don't use this so we have decided to remove it, you spineless cur!" the face of William speaks softly as he lays keiths surgically removed spine across his torso, the pain defies words.
William shakes his head, Keiths eyes blink and suddenly his wife begins to surgically remove another vital organ.....
-Keith-
The haunting melody becomes softer and softer as the mist lures keith away from the group.
Wait...was it luring him away or was he just getting lost?.
As Keith creeps through the mist, ever wary of danger tendrils of grey-white glide into his nostrils and his ears.
Keith suddenly finds himself back in Sigil, in a sterile infirmary, a few friends standing by as he undergoes a critical procedure.
He cant make out most of the voices, be he can see faces...he should remember that day so long ago. The thing that catch's his attention is the man performing the procedure, William, a friend and companion so long ago, stands poised over Keiths body with a sharp surgical implement, cutting slowly and precisely.
And in the wrong places, considering the work that needed to be done. The pain suddenly catchs up with Keith, apparently no anesthietic or medication has been used. Keith can move and look and to his utter horror he -must- watch as William coldly and bloodily removes a long tendril of cartildge bone and muscle.
"Such a coward, you pathetic excuse for a warrior, you lack courage, and resolve...you don't use this so we have decided to remove it, you spineless cur!" the face of William speaks softly as he lays keiths surgically removed spine across his torso, the pain defies words.
William shakes his head, Keiths eyes blink and suddenly his wife begins to surgically remove another vital organ.....
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*Mausman
- Posts: 486
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
Kelth's thoughts raced, raged and overwhelmed him, h...how? No...this is dark magic...wait! was this Marius?!?! had he finally returned to end their clash? William...n...no! you betrayed us! -his own voice echoed in his mind- you ran! fokkin' traitor! YOU had nae fokkin' spine! But...I f'rgave ye...
D..Daneira?!...don't...not again...please...
D..Daneira?!...don't...not again...please...
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*Lucadia
- Posts: 450
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
[Reverie...Events do not change in context, only order of importance]
Every action taken
Any word spoken
Every experience of life committed to memory.
No mater how minor it is, has some consequence.
Priority comes in how much effects past, present and future
A turn of a gem, refraction of the same dreams over and over. Details of those moments blurred and bled together.
What was it he said? "Like. . . this? No. After a while the lines all blur together. Melded like the colors of an artist painting in the rain."
Then the echoing scream. Then it was if he was on the ground, on all fours. Ache in joints from old age, claws digged into the dirt at the sight, baring fangs. "He" was the old grizzled wolf with fur turning white from the years, Having discovered the sunken clearing in the forest.
Skeletons danced to the upbeat tune, as bones rattled, inviting the beast for the dance. Shaken, yet determined to deal with this undead threat.. then the void of nothing.
The elf looked up, in front of of the theater troupe, practicing for the coronation. Inviting, tempting, He and Odette. Come, take off your coats, take off your hats. Join us in dance, we will show you how to prance.
Same clearing he had spotted before, now foreboding of tales to be heard no more.
Such sleep was now confusing, this reverie not the same as it had been. The brief mental contact with Quinn , thrown fragments of seeing this from both ends. For a moment, he thought he was the skinned elder gentlemen, looking toward with Argent, shouting that same warning.
"N-n-n-n-om. D-dumak-d-d-d-daya...". Words of a Magi. Dark Powers, here they be.
Shalafi, the Master Planner, took over for this moment. Best to stall for time, make them believe you given into to their whims. Sing, Sing for your life! Clever elves and their beautiful voices, tricking the dead until it was just about to late, a song to counter the unlivings pipes and descend with light.
"Sihir Shirak!" Words of a Magi. Magic of Light, to shower the dark. There was a first burst of searing magic just in concert with his, nearly dispatching all the breathless at once. Then silence. He felt himself falling forward, his frame suddenly failing from lack of water. Wilted as the flower in the last summer days.
Mists. Mists dragging him forward. Remanent of another voice in time , whispering: "I like t' d'vour my foes.."
He jerked himself up. not knowing how much time had passed since the battle. Yet the remains of two skeletons remained, the skin suits of his companions left on the coat racks.
He swallowed hard, bile rising at the thought of having to reskin his friends. Like a taxidermist. That memory had come unbidden suddenly. That of being another man. The younger Quinn. Having slowly torn and sewn at his own skin on his arm, until revealing gleaming bone.
He leaned over Odette, paying no mental heed to her nakedness as it was, stuffing bones back into the peeled away suit. Only the sickening sound of putting it into place, without mess.
The same he had done to his companion Quinn, but the older man had suffered mental shock of the ordeal. The very brief physic contact he had, to try to assure this human all was going be alright, had tumbled shocking, revolting and fascinating memories. This reverie, he now known, was a merge. So much pain. Regret. Sorrow. Just if they been brought back to the Mists.
For just that fragment of a heartbeat, he knew what it felt to be in another mans shoes. To no longer be human, to have a gnawing hunger in pit of his stomach, desiring to eat as mortals did. Caught in a realm of being both dead and alive.
He woke from the agonizing memory, still in the dark of the night. Made no move to wake Odette, the red eyes glazed over in tacit contemplation.
Even so far away, they was still prisoners of that /Place/.
Every action taken
Any word spoken
Every experience of life committed to memory.
No mater how minor it is, has some consequence.
Priority comes in how much effects past, present and future
A turn of a gem, refraction of the same dreams over and over. Details of those moments blurred and bled together.
What was it he said? "Like. . . this? No. After a while the lines all blur together. Melded like the colors of an artist painting in the rain."
Then the echoing scream. Then it was if he was on the ground, on all fours. Ache in joints from old age, claws digged into the dirt at the sight, baring fangs. "He" was the old grizzled wolf with fur turning white from the years, Having discovered the sunken clearing in the forest.
Skeletons danced to the upbeat tune, as bones rattled, inviting the beast for the dance. Shaken, yet determined to deal with this undead threat.. then the void of nothing.
The elf looked up, in front of of the theater troupe, practicing for the coronation. Inviting, tempting, He and Odette. Come, take off your coats, take off your hats. Join us in dance, we will show you how to prance.
Same clearing he had spotted before, now foreboding of tales to be heard no more.
Such sleep was now confusing, this reverie not the same as it had been. The brief mental contact with Quinn , thrown fragments of seeing this from both ends. For a moment, he thought he was the skinned elder gentlemen, looking toward with Argent, shouting that same warning.
"N-n-n-n-om. D-dumak-d-d-d-daya...". Words of a Magi. Dark Powers, here they be.
Shalafi, the Master Planner, took over for this moment. Best to stall for time, make them believe you given into to their whims. Sing, Sing for your life! Clever elves and their beautiful voices, tricking the dead until it was just about to late, a song to counter the unlivings pipes and descend with light.
"Sihir Shirak!" Words of a Magi. Magic of Light, to shower the dark. There was a first burst of searing magic just in concert with his, nearly dispatching all the breathless at once. Then silence. He felt himself falling forward, his frame suddenly failing from lack of water. Wilted as the flower in the last summer days.
Mists. Mists dragging him forward. Remanent of another voice in time , whispering: "I like t' d'vour my foes.."
He jerked himself up. not knowing how much time had passed since the battle. Yet the remains of two skeletons remained, the skin suits of his companions left on the coat racks.
He swallowed hard, bile rising at the thought of having to reskin his friends. Like a taxidermist. That memory had come unbidden suddenly. That of being another man. The younger Quinn. Having slowly torn and sewn at his own skin on his arm, until revealing gleaming bone.
He leaned over Odette, paying no mental heed to her nakedness as it was, stuffing bones back into the peeled away suit. Only the sickening sound of putting it into place, without mess.
The same he had done to his companion Quinn, but the older man had suffered mental shock of the ordeal. The very brief physic contact he had, to try to assure this human all was going be alright, had tumbled shocking, revolting and fascinating memories. This reverie, he now known, was a merge. So much pain. Regret. Sorrow. Just if they been brought back to the Mists.
For just that fragment of a heartbeat, he knew what it felt to be in another mans shoes. To no longer be human, to have a gnawing hunger in pit of his stomach, desiring to eat as mortals did. Caught in a realm of being both dead and alive.
He woke from the agonizing memory, still in the dark of the night. Made no move to wake Odette, the red eyes glazed over in tacit contemplation.
Even so far away, they was still prisoners of that /Place/.
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*WhenWizardsWar
- Posts: 353
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
"Simple tenants, sometimes forgotten".
"You-are-WEAK" came the three voiced words of his companions, the first one william the second one hal and the third spoken by ed.
Now Keith was somewhere else, a battle field, thousands of orcs spread around him, stretching in every direction, allowing him no room to flee.
The orcs suddenly charge in, but keith realises he has a problem, they had suddenly appeard and csught him off guard, the tips and edges of his weapons spring into his vision, dull and rusted, mostly useless.
16. "Keep yer sword an' spear sharpened, when a conflict ye feel. So if 'arsh words nae solve it, you kin trust in cold steel!”
and in
The orcs wash over Keith an a literally endless melee which despite the condition of his weapon conditions he manages to inflict terrible losses on the horde.
But then, as time goes on and he sustains countless injuries and slays hundreds of orc's he realises at some point the horde has taken on the images of many friends and loved ones he has met over all his years of life, many of orcs duplicate each other. The hordes of Williams, and Eds, and Hals and Odettes and Doms and all of his other friends seems endless, and indeed it might very well be.
Hundreds of kills, orcs and friends slain proves to be not enough as the horde eventually fatigues Keith, washes over him and tears him to peices.
"You-are-WEAK" came the three voiced words of his companions, the first one william the second one hal and the third spoken by ed.
Now Keith was somewhere else, a battle field, thousands of orcs spread around him, stretching in every direction, allowing him no room to flee.
The orcs suddenly charge in, but keith realises he has a problem, they had suddenly appeard and csught him off guard, the tips and edges of his weapons spring into his vision, dull and rusted, mostly useless.
16. "Keep yer sword an' spear sharpened, when a conflict ye feel. So if 'arsh words nae solve it, you kin trust in cold steel!”
and in
The orcs wash over Keith an a literally endless melee which despite the condition of his weapon conditions he manages to inflict terrible losses on the horde.
But then, as time goes on and he sustains countless injuries and slays hundreds of orc's he realises at some point the horde has taken on the images of many friends and loved ones he has met over all his years of life, many of orcs duplicate each other. The hordes of Williams, and Eds, and Hals and Odettes and Doms and all of his other friends seems endless, and indeed it might very well be.
Hundreds of kills, orcs and friends slain proves to be not enough as the horde eventually fatigues Keith, washes over him and tears him to peices.
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*Mausman
- Posts: 486
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
* At first, Kelth seethed with hatred and rage, recognising the orcs, cussing at the state of his weaponry. Regardless he made them pay for their advance dearly, rampaging. The instant that the orcs take on the forms of loved ones, both loved and lost, he drops his weapon, gasping as the pain of heartache, the ache of loss, grips his chest and renders him immobile. He falters and slumps his shoulders, looking emotionally defeated...
His long black manes flow on the winds of war, a faint echo of the bells knotted in his braids to be heard, before he raises his arms calmly and accepts death coming for him...inviting it, uttering a few final words...*
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o9Pu92St5O0 (play for the best feel of the moment)
"Finally...I...understan'...Morrigan. I can spend eternity in war...but it'll nae bring anyone back...now come, take me onto yer promised wings...I yield...I fokkin'...yield...
* Kelth closes his eye, a smile slowly forming on his face as he is ripped apart, his towering form not falling until there is nothing left...*
His long black manes flow on the winds of war, a faint echo of the bells knotted in his braids to be heard, before he raises his arms calmly and accepts death coming for him...inviting it, uttering a few final words...*
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o9Pu92St5O0 (play for the best feel of the moment)
"Finally...I...understan'...Morrigan. I can spend eternity in war...but it'll nae bring anyone back...now come, take me onto yer promised wings...I yield...I fokkin'...yield...
* Kelth closes his eye, a smile slowly forming on his face as he is ripped apart, his towering form not falling until there is nothing left...*
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*AniKai
- Posts: 65
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
Musings in the Night
Relative peace fell over the landscape after they had crashlanded, even eerily silent for a while. Silence was briefly broken by the duo of dracolich coming to check if anyone had survived the crash, but their arrival was noticed beforehand and the crew had scattered into the forest already when they arrived at Alice's premises.
“Does this god forsaken land have shipwrights?” Mir mused, her back braced to a nearby tree, almost holding her breath while the dracoliches examined the scene not too far away. She found their presence irritating, but she didn't feel confident enough to unleash her simmering anger at them. “Too dangerous when free, need to anchor them down... alloys which can withstand the fury of those to chain them for me to end them” she pondered with her dimly yellow glowing eyes gazing after the shadows of the two dracoliches when they eventually left.
“Elminster, you little brat, you could've told me about these liches”, she grumbled silently in her mind while wading toward the abandoned building which Greg had found, but then it dawned to her, “or you didn't know any better than I? That's why you guided the four before us here – you lack here connection to Mystra and thus can't fix things yourself? Guess this is a god forsaken land afterall then. I guess I'll scold you later, not your fault.”
A bit later in the abandoned house Mir seated herself next to a table, her bosom and jaw resting on the tabletop while she rolled a berry in front of her eyes, one of the few she had found in the forest. “To eat these, or to eat not”, she pondered with one ear listening to the tunes Vyse conjured with his instrument, “and what do I do with my crew, and these mortals. This rescue mission turned awry before it even begun.”
Highly annoyed by the, at the moment unsolvable seeming, situation they were in, Mir decided to catch some sleep before the frustration that had built within her would burst and make her lash out at someone who wasn't even responsible for it all. “Insight, calm down, let unfold...”, were her fading conscious thoughts while she fell rather quickly asleep. And elsewhere, her dream projection found itself at Sigil...
Relative peace fell over the landscape after they had crashlanded, even eerily silent for a while. Silence was briefly broken by the duo of dracolich coming to check if anyone had survived the crash, but their arrival was noticed beforehand and the crew had scattered into the forest already when they arrived at Alice's premises.
“Does this god forsaken land have shipwrights?” Mir mused, her back braced to a nearby tree, almost holding her breath while the dracoliches examined the scene not too far away. She found their presence irritating, but she didn't feel confident enough to unleash her simmering anger at them. “Too dangerous when free, need to anchor them down... alloys which can withstand the fury of those to chain them for me to end them” she pondered with her dimly yellow glowing eyes gazing after the shadows of the two dracoliches when they eventually left.
“Elminster, you little brat, you could've told me about these liches”, she grumbled silently in her mind while wading toward the abandoned building which Greg had found, but then it dawned to her, “or you didn't know any better than I? That's why you guided the four before us here – you lack here connection to Mystra and thus can't fix things yourself? Guess this is a god forsaken land afterall then. I guess I'll scold you later, not your fault.”
A bit later in the abandoned house Mir seated herself next to a table, her bosom and jaw resting on the tabletop while she rolled a berry in front of her eyes, one of the few she had found in the forest. “To eat these, or to eat not”, she pondered with one ear listening to the tunes Vyse conjured with his instrument, “and what do I do with my crew, and these mortals. This rescue mission turned awry before it even begun.”
Highly annoyed by the, at the moment unsolvable seeming, situation they were in, Mir decided to catch some sleep before the frustration that had built within her would burst and make her lash out at someone who wasn't even responsible for it all. “Insight, calm down, let unfold...”, were her fading conscious thoughts while she fell rather quickly asleep. And elsewhere, her dream projection found itself at Sigil...
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*WhenWizardsWar
- Posts: 353
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
"Not dead, but gone".
The early morning after the docs group lands, Mir finds herself in Alices engine room, having been called there by the engineers in charge of keeping the engines running smoothly. The core of the ship which powers the slip drive sprung a leak sometime during the night and began venting dangerous levels of residual elemental energy into the air.
As the crew quietly discusses what to do, alarms suddenly start ringing and walls of force materialize, sealing dozens of the crew in the dangerous engine room including Mir herself. The ship begins to shudder violently, dozens of tiny micro rifts open up to the elemental planes, those trapped inside who are too close to a portal are violently and sometimes fatally sucked into a portal, some being to small for the person being drawn into it, with messy results.
The existance of the engine room is all but peeled away as the portal increase in size, Mir suddenly finds herself standing in all of the elemental planes at once. Her body under goes extreme tempertures, feels like she is being crushed by two slabs of earth and feels like thousands of pounds of water threatens to crush her, while the air feels like it is being sucked out of her lungs. Alice screams in pain, her mind unable to comprehend how a piece of her can be on every elemental plane at the same time and yet still be on Illia. The jammers slip drive core cracks down the middle and splits in half, releasing the rest of its energy to try and correct the sheer improbability the engine room its experiencing.
Doc, Gregory, Vyse...all of them are thrown from what ever they are sleeping on and the night sky lights up as Alice's hull becomes peirced by thousands of rays of light and suddenly grows to tremendous size, the growth is exponential and almost crush's the cabin the heros are sleeping in.
The windows of the cabin are blown out, trees incinerated, rain falls from the sky and grass falls upwards, a portion of the sea near the cabin turns to sand effectivly extending the length and width of the beach by hundreds of feet in every direction. Those inside the cabin begin to float towards the ceiling as gravity is momentarily halted, only to resume a moment later dropping them to the ground. The ship grows and grows, and just when it seems to be unending, the increasing in size stops, the ship shudders and suddenly begins to shrink, being ripped apart as it is drawn in upon itself. The ship is sucked into nothingness, leaving a swirling mass of combined energy from across the planes.
The compact energy unable to maintain its shape and form explodes vertically, lighting up the night sky in a brilliant display of magic diffusion that can be seen for miles.
When the lights and sounds and earth shaking implosion subside, all the group finds is a beach that is twice as large as it was the night before, strange local weather phenomina and the groove of a crashed spell jammer that is no where in sight.
Its crew, its captain and the ship...gone with out a trace...
The crew has been scattered across the multiverse, the ship has been destroyed by the cataclysmic rift of instabliltiy, and as for its captain?.
Well...that is a tale for another time.
The early morning after the docs group lands, Mir finds herself in Alices engine room, having been called there by the engineers in charge of keeping the engines running smoothly. The core of the ship which powers the slip drive sprung a leak sometime during the night and began venting dangerous levels of residual elemental energy into the air.
As the crew quietly discusses what to do, alarms suddenly start ringing and walls of force materialize, sealing dozens of the crew in the dangerous engine room including Mir herself. The ship begins to shudder violently, dozens of tiny micro rifts open up to the elemental planes, those trapped inside who are too close to a portal are violently and sometimes fatally sucked into a portal, some being to small for the person being drawn into it, with messy results.
The existance of the engine room is all but peeled away as the portal increase in size, Mir suddenly finds herself standing in all of the elemental planes at once. Her body under goes extreme tempertures, feels like she is being crushed by two slabs of earth and feels like thousands of pounds of water threatens to crush her, while the air feels like it is being sucked out of her lungs. Alice screams in pain, her mind unable to comprehend how a piece of her can be on every elemental plane at the same time and yet still be on Illia. The jammers slip drive core cracks down the middle and splits in half, releasing the rest of its energy to try and correct the sheer improbability the engine room its experiencing.
Doc, Gregory, Vyse...all of them are thrown from what ever they are sleeping on and the night sky lights up as Alice's hull becomes peirced by thousands of rays of light and suddenly grows to tremendous size, the growth is exponential and almost crush's the cabin the heros are sleeping in.
The windows of the cabin are blown out, trees incinerated, rain falls from the sky and grass falls upwards, a portion of the sea near the cabin turns to sand effectivly extending the length and width of the beach by hundreds of feet in every direction. Those inside the cabin begin to float towards the ceiling as gravity is momentarily halted, only to resume a moment later dropping them to the ground. The ship grows and grows, and just when it seems to be unending, the increasing in size stops, the ship shudders and suddenly begins to shrink, being ripped apart as it is drawn in upon itself. The ship is sucked into nothingness, leaving a swirling mass of combined energy from across the planes.
The compact energy unable to maintain its shape and form explodes vertically, lighting up the night sky in a brilliant display of magic diffusion that can be seen for miles.
When the lights and sounds and earth shaking implosion subside, all the group finds is a beach that is twice as large as it was the night before, strange local weather phenomina and the groove of a crashed spell jammer that is no where in sight.
Its crew, its captain and the ship...gone with out a trace...
The crew has been scattered across the multiverse, the ship has been destroyed by the cataclysmic rift of instabliltiy, and as for its captain?.
Well...that is a tale for another time.
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*DigitalDragoon
- Posts: 212
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
How easily the veneer of security had peeled away. Had it ever been real? Freedom. A family. A city beyond the edge of mortal akin. Still they toyed with him in their twisted little games. They wanted him to remember how easily it is to tear away the illusion. They would never let him go. Strip away everything to make him who he is and force him to dance for their amusement. He tries to tap into the only wholesome presence he can feel, calling forth burst of sunlight. A last feeble act of deviance. The world goes white.
He stumbles lost and panicking through an endless rolling fog tangled with briar. They approach slowly, reaching out to him. Beckoning. Confident in wearing a friendly face. Their tricks are for naught though, he is mindful of the illusion now. Racing, Skittering, Tumbling ever farther down a rabbit's hole. No longer is he recalling himself. Some moments he is a terrified young man, Others just a Skeleton in whole or in part. Mostly he seems a frightened old mage fleeing from shadows he can never outrun. Fleeting illusions surface all around closing in and weaving an inescapable maze.
"This is what I was warning you about this entire time. I want you to stop panicking and think. You're an intelligent man, you're reflective. They used your emotions against you, and they're banking on your emotional state to keep you acting out." The memory of an old friend, one gravely wrong dances in the swirling mist. A man with red hair and scarred face trying to reason with him, speaking forgiveness toward the sin against him...The scene twists. "If you want to make it right then kill yourself. ...Fine. Then I will!" the red-head shooting himself in the head..Again it warps. Not a red-head man. A man in armor. Blood leaking from the cracked side of his head as the helmet is pulled away.
Within a private room of a fine restaurant. "I took this from the board. It represented our group.." A raven turns a chess piece between her hands. "The chess board didn't just have us, or the aboleths on it..We were all pieces. Some pieces greater than the aboleths, even." Cuddled besides her is a white rabbit. The grey hare sips from a bittersweet glass of wine. "Everyone in this world seems to be playing with us.."
"Will you betray us as well?" Watching helpless as words are fed through the visage of friendly faces.
"Do you actually DO that?" A figure wildly rips veins from it's arms within the swirling mist.
"You seem familiar with this one.." A series of cards lay upon an ornate rug..One in particular stands out in perfect clarity. A Grotesque creature seated upon a throne.
*Off in a lonely corner of the small camp in the ruins a sudden whimpering and babbling breaks the stillness of the early dawn. Quinn tosses and turns in fitful sleep. A debatable improvement from the comatose state he has been in and out of since the return from the grove. After a brief span anywhere from a few minutes to a few hours he falls still again, as he has all throughout the night. His brief moments of wakefulness are miserable. The elderly wizard seems to recognize and trust no one. His responses marked by agitation and blind panic, which are followed quickly by fainting spells and long periods of unresponsiveness. There seems little sign of improvement in the immediate future.*
He stumbles lost and panicking through an endless rolling fog tangled with briar. They approach slowly, reaching out to him. Beckoning. Confident in wearing a friendly face. Their tricks are for naught though, he is mindful of the illusion now. Racing, Skittering, Tumbling ever farther down a rabbit's hole. No longer is he recalling himself. Some moments he is a terrified young man, Others just a Skeleton in whole or in part. Mostly he seems a frightened old mage fleeing from shadows he can never outrun. Fleeting illusions surface all around closing in and weaving an inescapable maze.
"This is what I was warning you about this entire time. I want you to stop panicking and think. You're an intelligent man, you're reflective. They used your emotions against you, and they're banking on your emotional state to keep you acting out." The memory of an old friend, one gravely wrong dances in the swirling mist. A man with red hair and scarred face trying to reason with him, speaking forgiveness toward the sin against him...The scene twists. "If you want to make it right then kill yourself. ...Fine. Then I will!" the red-head shooting himself in the head..Again it warps. Not a red-head man. A man in armor. Blood leaking from the cracked side of his head as the helmet is pulled away.
Within a private room of a fine restaurant. "I took this from the board. It represented our group.." A raven turns a chess piece between her hands. "The chess board didn't just have us, or the aboleths on it..We were all pieces. Some pieces greater than the aboleths, even." Cuddled besides her is a white rabbit. The grey hare sips from a bittersweet glass of wine. "Everyone in this world seems to be playing with us.."
"Will you betray us as well?" Watching helpless as words are fed through the visage of friendly faces.
"Do you actually DO that?" A figure wildly rips veins from it's arms within the swirling mist.
"You seem familiar with this one.." A series of cards lay upon an ornate rug..One in particular stands out in perfect clarity. A Grotesque creature seated upon a throne.
*Off in a lonely corner of the small camp in the ruins a sudden whimpering and babbling breaks the stillness of the early dawn. Quinn tosses and turns in fitful sleep. A debatable improvement from the comatose state he has been in and out of since the return from the grove. After a brief span anywhere from a few minutes to a few hours he falls still again, as he has all throughout the night. His brief moments of wakefulness are miserable. The elderly wizard seems to recognize and trust no one. His responses marked by agitation and blind panic, which are followed quickly by fainting spells and long periods of unresponsiveness. There seems little sign of improvement in the immediate future.*