The Dreamer [Chapter 1: The Beginning]

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Lucinda was confident in her decision to confront the strange group, but soon found herself hesitant when the smiling woman made her approach. How was it that her name could be rolled off the tongue of a stranger so casually? Lucinda could feel her nerve slipping through her fingers. The sight of destruction and monster carcasses probably did not help the situation. Just as she was about to turn around and find her own way back home, the thought of her sister came to mind. What would Blythe do under such circumstances? Not cower and run away in fear, that was for sure. More like come bursting out of the trees while grinning ear to ear, greeting everyone with open arms. Lucy chuckles at the idea. Blythe was one of the bravest fairies among her kind; a true adventurer. That's right... an adventurer Lucy thought to herself. Am I not an adventurer too?

With a new found certainty, Lucinda grasps her pendent. The jewel clutched tightly in her hands begins to glow. Red, ribbon-like strands of light emit from it, wrapping themselves around her body until she is engulfed by them. The small figure begins to grow in size, until it reaches it's intended volume. The ribbons then shatter into twinkling dust as the image of a young girl comes to focus. She is lovely with long, golden hair and eyes as bright as sunshine, wearing a yellow chiffon dress. It is Lucinda, in her human form. She looks up with earnest eyes as she speaks her first words.

"G-greetings, c-c-creatures!" She says, regretfully. That did not come out as smoothly as intended. Although she was pleased that they at least spoke her language. Or did they? Regardless, she understood them, and they seemed to understand her. She clears her throat in an attempt to reinforce her vocal cords. "What is this place? This is not my forest. What is the purpose of my being here, with all of you?" The last bit had a tint of harshness to it. She looks to the side, once again regretting her choice of words, but then realizes she is in a conversation. She looks straight at the woman who had given her a wave. She knew her name, so surely she had the answers to her questions.
 
Explicit eyes the new form that Lucinda has taken on, admiring the magical ability of shape shifting. Surely it would be useful for things like squeezing into small spaces to hide, or reaching the items on the top shelf. She would never know. She's at that height where she needs help with high up items, and can't fit comfortably anywhere tight. Not that she could anyway, considering a slight case of claustrophobia. She lets her hand rest at her side and she steps forward towards the fairy-now-human. "I wish I could answer your questions, but I'm not even sure myself. This is a forest south of my home town of Trotstram, but nothing is the same." Explicit admits with a slow nod. She smiles, though, despite her lack of usefulness. "I also can't tell you why you're here. Or why I'm here, or any of us for that matter. All I know is what I feel, and I feel that we're supposed to fix the corruption in the forest. I think my life is tied to it somehow?" she continues, the last bit coming out as a question that she ponders for a few moments. She shakes her head, banishing the thought.

"I'm sorry I can't help you right now, but I can soon. I'm apparently some sort of... erm, Farsight." she calls out, turning to the dark red unicorn with a smile. "If I make people stronger, healthier, but not in a healy feely kind of way, what am I?" she asks, making up a few words for the lack of having better ones on hand. She puts her hand to her chin, thinking for a moment about what the word is. Not a healer. A buffer? How could she say that and it make any sense? And how much should she tell them? Probably everything she knows, which isn't much. Or has she already told them everything she knows? And what is that horrible noise?

Explicit pops out of her thoughts. "A noise?" she asks, seemingly to no one at all. She looks off towards one edge of the forest. "There's going to be a noise. We need to follow it. I don't know why. Or at least, I don't think I know why. This is all very confusing to me now." she says, her mind going into a loop of thoughts. she focuses really hard and cuts off the thinker for a few moments, giving herself time enough to rest from the overload of thoughts, seemingly useless until -

A lout shriek emanates throughout the forest. She shivers a bit. Despite knowing what it sounds like and expecting it, the sound still manages to crawl underneath her skin. It causes her skin to itch slightly and her mouth to be taken with a bad taste. Strangely, no one else seems to have reacted that way. They did all very much hear it, though. She begins walking to the edge of forest, towards where Lucinda had just emerged, the thoughts beginning to flood over her once more.
 
Daniel looked over at the girl. Blonde, pleasing, with a dress too thin for the wilds and for men that had evil intentions. He wondered if she cried beneath her lovers, for it never crossed his mind that she had never had one. I am an evil man, he thought to himself, for thinking these things. For suspecting. She had approached them, and Explicit seemed to know her. But she seemed to know everybody, and Daniel wasn't sure that was an admirable part of her character, or if it was something to be suspicious of, or whether or not that was something to loathe. Her knowledge did not predispose him towards hating her; he did not think that in this place, he was capable of hating her. There was a gnawing sensation in the depths of the part of the anatomy where his heart had once been; a feeling that he did not get to choose what he thought or felt in this place. True, his mind had a tendency to wander, to happier times, if there had ever been any, to the sensation of butter melting on his tongue. Daniel did not know why he had remembered that. He should not have. But here, he did not seem to have a choice. He had always been strung along by fate, and this sensation was not new, but there was a pressure here that hadn't been so strong in his previous world. Fated.

Daniel looked her over, once. Her forest. Her forest was far away, just as his valley was, his keep, his home, and his people. She wanted to know their purpose here, and Daniel wondered if he had dreamed her, if she was part of Grim the Dark's test. Perhaps she was being tested too, but that was impossible. This seemed to have been designed by his progenitor, every part of it, every blade of grass. Only Grim the Dark had the power to do that, in his eyes. Maybe there were others. Maybe not. But for the time being, some test of Grim the Dark seemed more likely than all the other options. His hands tightened into fists at his sides, making a sheer, metal sound; like iron ground against grass. If his ancestor expected him to violate a small maid in a golden dress, he was wrong. Daniel had done his fair share of violent violations, but he was not that man anymore. That man had died when he picked up a book, and the man who had opened his dead eyes had never touched a woman in his life. The death knight dipped his head, pieces of his grey hair entangling amongst the humours of his eyeballs, helmet still locked to his head, despite the hair spilling out from it.

"We are here to cleanse this forest, miss." The death knight said softly, flatly. His voice was a metallic rumble deep within his throat, sonorous and ambient from beneath his helmet. "I do not think that we can leave, until this is complete." Daniel straightened slightly, the nuts and bolts of his armor creaking as he readjusted his posture. It was perfect posture, held in place by splints of metal and bone, trained and honed by years upon years of military training and a discipline that had yet to fade. His grey-red eyes flicked over the girl in the golden dress. Creatures. She called us creatures. She was not human then? The only one amongst them that was not natural was the fleshy pony-thing, and himself. But he hid it under a suit of armor, and the hope that he still remembered how to live. His eyes examined her. She had the grace and delicacy of an elf, and golden eyes were not unheard of, amongst their people. Maybe a half-elf, since her ears were not pointed, though it could be hidden under her hair.

The not knowing gnawed at him. She could be aasimir, from the upper planes. Sent to watch him, sent to make sure his damnation was swift. Daniel was not comfortable with that thought. Would she extend a a narrow hand and cast him down, down to the places where he knew all truly dead undead went - to either the feet of The Blood Lord, to be twisted into one of his creations, or to his Lord of the Rotting Tower's kingdom, to wander his infinite city and watch the damned country of mists swallow its victims whole. He feared that place above all, and refused to think its name - or he tried. But merest possibility of being carried to that place in the arms of an aasimir was enough for him to think the name. Ravenloft. Ravenloft, the land of mists and sorrow; the demiplane of dread. His hands tightened.

What if he was already there?

But now there was a shrieking sound, and his arm was moving to grip the hilt of the sword on his back. He followed Explicit, and kept his eyes low to the ground. The screams ran through his head, and it seemed to him that if he was to face any sort of damnation, it would be a false hope of redemption -- the torture of the demiplane of dread. It would put a task before him, a false hope. And he would follow that road, like he followed Explicit. They would show if a way to save himself, to save his soul, and then the plane would rip it out from his grasp. And he would continue, forever and forever. How many times had he already walked this path? How many times had he drawn his sword, as he walked to the woods? How many times had he carried his sword between his hands, held at his sides, covering his fragile compatriots? Maybe he could not remember. Maybe he had to experience it time and time again.

No world had ever hated, save for one. Ravenloft.
 
As Farsight stands, he wobbles slightly, the screech still ringing in his ears. He was a lot more sensative to loud noises, his hearing being generally stronger than a human. He shakes his head to try and clear it and hears as Explicit calls out his name. Karaka levitates and he places it on his back, making it stick with a small spell. "A support...?" He says, thinking his answer sounds stupid. But his mind wasn't really there, still whirling from that blasted screech.

When Explicit mentioned another screech was coming, Farsight's ears drooped. He didn't want to hurt again. Then it came. It wasn't as loud as he thought it would of been and was glad for it. He walks over to where Ecsy was speaking to Lucy and he looks over the now human. He gives her a warm smile, and quickly trots to catch up with their guide to this strange, strange world.
 
Nova picked up his sword and put it back into his sheath. Although he just fought he was still able to continue if this should become necessary. This was unusual considering how much power he used. Why that was the case was obvious as the girl that knew his name mentioned what her powers were.
(So that was her. Interesting. But still...)
He also noticed the Shapeshifter, but not her fairy form. This was indeed a interesting group. Each member had interesting and unique abilities. Making plans and team attacks will be a lot easier with such a wide selection.

Nova began to think about this situation. He didn't know where he was, but also not how he got here. There must have been a reason for this. Restoring the Forest seems like only a part of it. Maybe it had something to do with the strange monsters they just fought. And what is even more strange: The leader of this group is connected to this all somehow. For him, this was indeed interesting.

As he was done thinking a bit, a screech came from somewhere. It didn't mean much to him, but apparently the girl wanted to go there. He had no reason to follow them, but he didn't know where he was. And if he would run into more strange enemies it would be better to move in a group.
He caught up with her and began to speak.
I guess i already know your answer but, why do you know my name? And more importantly: What's yours?
 
Lucinda was very displeased by the woman's reply. She knew unimportant things, such as her name, but couldn't answer a question as simple as "Where am I?" How could someone know so much yet so little at the same time? Lucinda lost interest in the woman's disappointing explanations, and thus decided to put her focus on the issue at hand: how would she get home? Under normal circumstances, Lucy would have loved the idea of being in a foreign land and discovering all it's mysteries. However, having a chunk of your memory missing could be nothing but suspicious. She could remember the cave, exploring it and being trapped in it. How could she have ended up in such a place? It was all very confusing, and obviously Lucinda was not going to get answers anytime soon.

She looked over at the others, wondering if they were at all upset by the situation. They were...very odd looking. She was curious to know if they were all considered humans, too. The only creature she seemed to recognize was the red unicorn steadily approaching her. At least, she thought he was a unicorn. All of his features seemed exaggerated and out of place. That was probably they best way she could describe the whole situation. The people, the animals, the trees; the whole world around her was just out of place.

Upon being lost in thought, she hadn't noticed one of the members staring at her. She looked at the being, clad in armor, and watched as he looked her up and down. She cringed in surprise, and couldn't control the grimace forming on her face. What was he staring at her so intently for? She thought about how such a big hunk of metal could easily devour her with no trouble at all. It wasn't until he spoke that her attention was once again brought to the conversation.

So they were trying to cleanse the forest? Good luck, Lucinda thought. She could hear the forest's cries of pain, and knew all too well the state it was in. But if it was to be her only way home, what other options would she have? "Very well," she began. "I will assist you in cleansing this forest. However, it is in a dire state. This will not be an easy task." She turned her head to a nearby patch of shrubbery to examine it. Whatever was ailing the forest, it was deadly, and spreading quickly. Even if she wasn't promised a way back to her village, she couldn't help but want to save these woods.

A shriek rang throughout the forest. It went right through Lucinda, sending shivers down her spine. She looked at the woman, about to ask her how she knew such a thing, but saw the look of discomfort on her face and decided against it. The others around her seemed to be preparing for battle. Lucinda wasn't ready for that. Fairy folk are peaceful by nature, with no natural enemies. She had no weapons, nor the muscles to use them. She knew a bit of magic, but most of it was useless or too complicated for her to use. She could only marvel at the fact that she ended up in such a place. How could someone as useless as she ever match up against the warrior bunch? She turned her body to the direction of the loud noise, wondering what place she had in the group of wanderers.
 
Explicit's steps come somewhat... crooked. One step here, and the other step crossing over. The next step may be a little bit more of a jump than a step, and the next may seem more like a tiptoe. The party isn't the only one being disturbed by the actions of the assumed leader, however. The thinker within her mind is revealing her next action to her as she begins to perform the previous one. Why have her walk so strangely? Or perhaps she's the one telling herself it should happen that way? Is she the thinker? Maybe she's leading herself. But that would mean that she knows everything, and she knows close to nothing!

Explicit stops, seeing something in the distance. It doesn't look quite like the decaying forest. In fact, it looks very much alive. Cold stone, tinted red for whatever cause, doesn't move but seems to emanate something. It seems to beat steadily, almost as if... A heart beat? Maybe the heart of the forest? The thinker tries to tell her otherwise, but she shushes it away once more, letting her own thoughts control her mind. The thinker swallows itself into some depth of her mind, decided to stay silent for some time. She knows the potential consequences of her actions, and she will not get all these people killed.

Explicit steps forward once more, her movements normal and steady. She's almost sad that the strange voice in her mind has left, feeling as though an important part of her has gone. She knows where to go, though. The building, apparently a temple and a pathway, will guide her where she must go. She only has to cleanse it of monsters. Unfortunately, that's where the thoughts perished from her mind. She has no idea what enemies the group will have to fight. She turns and faces the group, sighing softly. "I don't know what's going to happen next. We're going into a building up ahead, and we're going to fight more of these things. Stronger. But I don't know how many or what kinds. All I know is that there are four in control of the others, and we have to choose our targets carefully. Is everybody ready?"

She turns to face the 'temple', awaiting the response of her friends. They'll need her in here, but without the thinker... She's back down to her basics.
 
Daniel looks back at Explicit as she explains the situation to them. The stood before a building that, to him, reminded him of the temples dedicated to the Gods of Good that had so often been respites from the harshness of the front lines. His God had never been housed in such a place. The Maimed God's enclaves were secretive, and his people rarely came together, save for within the darkness and gloom of the nation of mists, where the Dead ruled the Living in great sects all devoted to the Lord of the Rotting Tower. His God's cults were secretive, and rarely exposed themselves to the world, their places of worship were generally not unearthed by the living. Daniel had never been an adherent. His occupation forced him to accepting the Gods of Good, taking them into his heart. He recalled his Baptism, when he was seventeen, and just beginning his military carrer. They had dunked him deep within the font, calling for him to accept Heironeous within his body; to do all things with grace and nobility. The death knight wondered if the Gods of Good knew that now he was nothing more than a collection of flesh and metal, pushing back the leaves in a hallucination -- this seemed like one of their temples, so perhaps they did.

Daniel stiffened slightly, when she mentioned that they had to enter the building. There was the subtlest twitch in one of gorget plates, the faintest curling of his gauntleted fingers around the ebony hilt of his sword. If he had any breath left, they would have heard him catch his. The temple. It was overrun with monsters. He wondered what that meant. Some had said that his people, the undying, were monsters and they frequently overrun temples dedicated to St. Cuthbert, or Pelor - gods interested in perserving the state of the world. Priests and clerics had always condemned his kind. Maybe Explicit was referring to beings like himself. Would he be forced to kill his kind? His family had always been a friend to the dead, to monsters, to the plagued and the misbegotten. They were never favoured by any Gods of Good, and they had never had a desire to be. Daniel had, he supposed, because he needed that interest to be a knight. But those days were gone, now. He was a death knight in service to the Undying King, his soul and blade were irrevocably linked to the opposition and that was something he could not stray from.

There was another fear, as well. Though clerics and preists could not wave about their holy symbols to ward him off, holy light streaming from the ever-watchful eyes of their deities, if they spoke the Word, they could banish him. If they banished him, he knew where he would go. Daniel thought of the spindly trees, white and stripped of bark, or the thin black spires that curled up from the scourged earth, the scent of despair int he nostils of all who dwelt there. The mist would pull him in, and crawl through his system like so many maggots, and he would forget about Daniel Danielson, third of his name, Son of Grim the Dark. He would only know mist and smoke, and the taste of cold Ravenloft rain on his lips. That was a fate that he had to avoid at all costs. If these monsters still had the spellcasting powers of a priest, the death knight reasoned, his likelyhood of emerging without at least an attempted banishment was low.

Then again, this was the only way of breaking his curse, and being able to return home. It was the only way that had presented itself to him, and it had to have been made for him. Daniel would not despair. He could not afford to. His fingers tensed around his sword's hilt, a soft purple light emanating from the hilt, flaring up as a true flame from the dying embers. The violet returned to a bright white, a beacon of his god's favour. He could feel the pound of its sentience in his ears, the voice of the spirit bound within it murmuring its truths to him. It reminded him of who he was. Daniel Danielson, Third of the Daniel name, A Knight of the Watch. Heretic to the Enclave of Organs -- A Blood of Vecna gone astray. Seek your redemption, Daniel. Just remember to honour our God, the Arch-Lich from Sheldomar Valley. There will come a time when his Thought returns to you. The voice in his head silenced, returning to its slumber. It did not speak, when he was still a Knight. Now, its tongue moved freely, to guide its lost limb back to the body. Perhaps, prior to his dalliance with the damned, the sword had given up on him. Now that the death knight had made his choice, the sword saw hope. Daniel only could guess at its motives, but it had always wanted him to return to his Master's path. For the time being, he assumed that the desires of the Whispered One and himself were corollary if not completely intersecting. The thought chilled him, but the sword burned him.

Daniel nodded once slowly, his helmet creaking as he did. A few strands of his armor-entangled and brittle hair snapped off, the semi-transparent strings falling to the ground and becoming lost amongst the greenery. He cleared his throat, once, a ghostly rumbling that echoed in his helm. "I would follow you anywhere." He said quietly, voice distorted by the dark magics that made him up. This was not a lie. He needed her, and she needed him. He paused. Should he show weakness to humanize himself? Perhaps. Perhaps he never should forget that he had been human, once. So, an admittance. "Though I am afraid of who this place once belonged to. In my country, this would be a temple to the Gods of Good. I do not know what they are like here." He hated that he didn't. "But in my country, the Sunfather, the Saint and the Archpaladin burn the bodies of my people."

The death knight remembered contributing to those fires. He recalled dumping another ectoplasmic corpse upon the pile, pouring oil on the bodies, their partly dead fingers quivering as the flames engulfed them. Their vestigal organs burned last, frying upon the bodies of their fellows, their own fat providing the campfire for the Knights of the Watch. He remembered the face of one of the wights as it burned, the skin peeling back from its face, screaming its death curses. And it knew him. It knew that he was a Danielson. It cried to him for help, cried for him to stop its suffering; to tear it out from the judgement of The Shining One. All that Daniel had done was watch. He had betrayed his people with the torch and sword. Now, he could feel those fires rising from his sword. Perhaps, this time, his loyalty would be true.


 
Explicit can feel Daniel beside her. With the thinker gone, her senses are her own. She's much more perceptive and aware of those around her and their actions. It's a slight relief, but the knowledge that the thinker brought her is gone now, resetting her concerns in a new light. She looked up at the temple, easily two stories tall with another story worth of temple located at the center. She tries to imagine what could be held within, but her mind is quickly distracted by the majesty of the temple. It spreads far enough to both sides that the ends cannot be seen through the forest, and there's no telling how far back it goes. She can only assume it's symmetrical, and as a result equal in length on all sides. The stone that forms it is cobbled, chipped and cracked. The foundation seems strong enough, and the stones are likely for show or due to age. Somebody made this temple for the purpose of looking old? Who could have created such a thing? She only wishes the seemingly omniscient voice was still residing within her mind. She's beginning to regret shooing it away, having become so used to it in so little time.

She picks up on Daniel's words, turning to face him. She smiles at his admittance of fear, glad to see that the temporary change is already taking place. Before the voice left, it had mentioned to her the need for all of them to change. Some would become stronger, some more cautious, some wiser, some less afraid... And some, more alive. She rests a hand on his shoulder and speaks to him, no breath of doubt in her voice. "Daniel, you are forgiven here for anything that was or is. The gods you know do not know this place, as mine do not know yours. This world has a faith of the heart, that is what our unseen guide is. Friendship, kindness, love. Quite dreary, I suppose, unless you think as we do." she finishes, turning to look at Farsight, retaining her smile. The things she knew of her world were not the things of this world. She's slowly coming to terms with the fact that she's likely not in Kans- err, Equestria, anymore.

The sound of battle can be heard within. Wait, battle? But if the group is outside, who could be fighting the monsters inside? She turns from Daniel and Farsight, and she begins to move up the steps, eager to meet a new ally and hoping that it isn't just a mutual enemy. As she moves up the steps, which doesn't take long because there aren't many, she presses a hoo- err, a hand, onto the stone comprising the stone archway entrance. The stone is filled with strange, ruby colored specks that begin to brighten as she nears. Her mind is distracted only for a moment before the sounds of battle continue and put her mind at focus once more.

The stone within the temple is much of the same. The red stones brighten as she steps, seeming to glow in an aura around her person. The effect doesn't work for the others, and the color begins to flicker a bit as Ser Daniel steps across it. It slowly warms up, though, retaining its color after slowly recording his presence as a non-hostile one. The setting inside of the temple is far different that one would expect. It almost looks like a laboratory. To the left, a long hall with a sign reading "portal rooms". To the right, a closed door with no visual means of entry. Aside from the outside walls, the remainder of the temple seems to be made out of a strong, steel colored metal. As she steps forward, into a massive area, she can see the battle zone. Directly beneath the additional story of temple she had seen earlier, was an altar. Stringing out from the altar are a dozen of wires, blades and maces attached to the ends of them. The hands of something she will need to learn, of an entity within the temple.

A strange, metal voice speaks out over some sort of invisible intercom system implanted within the system. The voice speaks sternly, and seems to have an emotion. It does, however, seem mechanical and artificial in nature. "Would you kindly dispose of these nuisances? They're becoming quite bothersome, and my Bioshock system doesn't seem to be able to connect to them. They are as artifical as I." it finishes, the voice ending with a short bit of static and then going quiet. Explicit turns to those who are fighting with the wires, assuming that the wires belong to the temple itself, and whatever the source of that voice is.

Laid out before the group is a large bundle of enemies. Twenty Spawn at least, a boar, three of a new enemy type known as Hellcallers - Ashen Wolves with quick attacks and spines attached to its back -, and no tumors at all. In the far back of the temple is an enemy that seems to be in control of the others. Strangely enough, it's a Spawn. However, it seems to be made of a blue tinted ash, and its claws are sharper, larger and can easily cut through one of the group members without the proper prevention. The only party member currently capable of taking more than one hit from the Eviscerator is Daniel because of his thick armor, and potentially Farsight if he focuses his dreamweaving on defense.
 
Ryan kept close to Daniel, feeling safe in his presence. He looked like the most experienced fighter amongst the group and, unlike the rest, had some armour which means he could probably take damage as well as deal it. Walking behind Daniel, Ryan kept staring around at everything with a fascinated look in his eyes. Magical stones begin to glow, but what for? Are those two so very magical they radiate magic which causes the stones to glow? What kinds of magic could they perform? Where are they from?

So many questions Ryan had, but they couldn't be answered. There just wasn't the time. The forest needed cleansing and a voice spoke to them, politely asking for help from them. "Not more of those boars." Ryan murmured and looked past Daniel to look at what they were asked to take care of. He cringed at the sight of the enemies and subconsciously grabbed Daniel's armour, like a child holding tight to its parent when its scared.
 
As they enter the temple and take in the sights, Farsight listens to the broadcast, summon his armor to himself, with a little strain, once more. He had Karaka off of his back and held in his grey magical aura before him, ready for a battle. The main Ashen Spawn catches his eye, and he looks worriedly at the claws it sports, wondering if any of the party would survive an attack from it. He decides it might be best to use a few of his Supportive spells before heading in, and his horn glows golden. It takes a bit more energy, again, to cast, but soon every member of the party has a very slight sheen of magic about them, which fades away. They can still feel it tingling against their skin, if they have the nerves to feel.

"The Dream Shield should protect us against most attacks, but it will deplete quickly. Try to avoid injury, please..." Farsight says, explaining only slightly what he just did. He now has to concentrate on the enemies before them, swinging his Dream Spear slightly before him, feeling it whisper to him... And feeling slightly what Explicit is thinking and feeling as well. He was ready for a fight, even one that will be as tough as the one before them, and Karaka is telling him of ways it can be used...
 
Forgiveness.

He had never felt like he had needed forgiveness, it was just an accumulation of words to express an emotion of regret. Regret is what bound the inhabitants of the mists to their graves - regret is what kept the dead dead and drove the living to an early hole in the ground. Daniel had never been forgiven by the Knights of the Watch for what he had done, for his betrayal. He had seized power, and had watched the armies of the Lord of the Rotting tower burn those who had once burned them. They had not ever been his to command, he realized. He had turned away from his God, in those days, and thought himself a master of undeath in his own right. He had been wrong about that. The sword had told him so. But it had not forgiven him. His mother had never forgiven him - her baby-boy who she should have loved unconditionally. He supposed it was difficult to love unconditionally when your only son had driven his sword up through the rib-cage and out the throat. She had bled like a split pig as he yanked his blade out from inside of her. Daniel had left her, twitching in a pool of coagulating blood in the entryway of the Danielson mansion. He had not even been able to make sure that she had died quickly.

Friendship, kindness, love. He had friends, once. Daniel recalled his brothers in arms with fondness - boys fresh out of their knighthoods. They had thick heads of hair and the beginnings of small beards. They loved women, glory, and the idea that they were fighting for the greater good. Daniel wasn't certain if they had been fighting for the greater good at all, or if it had just been a facade. He rather doubted that the Gods of Good would have approved of the way that they treated followers of other Gods - his God - but he supposed it no longer mattered. Kindness. She made toast with eggs, butter coagulating like his mother's blood. The ribbons of steam that curled from the bread and protein dispersed in the musty tower silently, but it was always piping warm to the touch. She knew it was his favourite, and after each bite he fell a little more in love with her. But she was gone now, and Daniel was dead.

But the voice was crackling on. The stones turned red and flickered on and off as he touched them with his heavy steel boots. He wondered what would have happened if he had come here alone. Nothing good, he suspected. But the voice was speaking now, and it was saying something about bioshock systems and artificial constructs. Nothing about that made any sense to the death knight. Where he came from, wizards conjured voices from nowhere, that spoke on their own accord. Perhaps this voice was one of them - but it seemed to have something mechanical within it, some sort of pre-destined series of gears that coloured its inflections. It was not human - it was manufactured. That lent Daniel towards distrusting it. Then again, he supposed his people were manufactured too - led out of planes of Shadow and mists in great troves to wash across the earth and never let a living thing see the skies with mortal eyes.

He looked out across the waves of the ashen covered and coated wolves - and the bladed cinder towards the back. Inside his helmet, his jaw tensed. His teeth ground against one another, and he could feel fine calcium dusting his tongue and gums. But now there'sa boy clutching to his armor. Daniel looked down at Ryan, his neckplates creaking, his helmet making the mechanical scrapping of metal-on-metal. His pale grey eyes flickered over the boy from the visor of his helmet, his strands of grey hair entangled with his eyelashes. Ryan was afraid. Fear was like regret. It bound you to places. The more afraid that you were, the stronger your fear, the more tied you became to places. It was what had bound men to the land of mist, and what Daniel privately suspected had bund him to his curse; the fear of never being able to break it made him even more motivated to do just that and fulfill his purpose.

Daniel spoke softly, though his voice came out amplified and inhuman from within his helm. "Do not be afraid." He unsheathed his sword from his back, drawing out the great thing in a wide arc. His hands curled around the hilt of it, locking into their proper place, midway down the shaft of the hilt. He tensed slightly, letting out a stale exhale out of habit - though no breath came from him. "Stay behind, if you cannot fight." The death knight began moving down, moving down towards the crowd of creatures - outnumbered. Numbers meant nothing to a death knight of Sheldomar. He was the last of his family, and he had no intention to die. Wolves were quick - certainly. But they were small and had little force behind their actions. They were strong enough to push themselves deeper into Daniel's blade, and fast enough to run into the recoil of his cleave.

He began to engage the ashen-wolves, sweeping his sword infront of him in a wide arch, bending his knees to have a stronger balance on the ground. He drove his blade forward - like a child swinging a bat - as the wolves pushed towards them. Flecks of white foam gathered around their mouths, before pooling on the ground - dissolving into white ash. Their teeth and claws were nothing against armor - of that Daniel was certain. But there were a lot of them - as he had expected. But they were quick, and smarter than he thought. They dodged his blows with surprising accuracy - they saw his cleaves coming. And he was surrounded.
 
(Waiting for Nova, Leona or Miss Fairypants to post. As soon as one of them, ANY of them post, I'll make some progression. In the spoiler below is a little bit of additional story I'll be posting in chunks, based on the Thinker, who exists in this world but far into the future. It's all quite interesting, and it's helping me build my own world! Yay! Keep in mind, though, that none of this is important for understanding the roleplay. Inf act, it might make things a tiny bit more confusing. Ask questions, and I'll enlighten you!)
The Thinker wanders. Expulsed from the mind of the Dreamer, the Creator. It almost felt like it emptied her of all things, being thrust from someone with such power in a place of their own conception. Conception, that is what they call this day. This one, unknowingly long day. The disease has all things stilled within time, but the Dreamer will create. She will dream up her world, and make it whole. Upon this day, the day of Conception, the world of Explicia will be made. Her world, a world kept alive by the beliefs of her people that they are not a dream, that they are created as far more than that. A belief that the Thinker is slowly beginning to doubt. She sees the inner workings of the Dreamer, and she's beginning to understand.

So many things she remembers. From just a few hours ago, to mention. The Ashen creatures, pouring through the broken Aydromir's Wall, seeping into the clean world as if blood upon a fine painting. The Ashen are even crueler now than they seem back in her own time, some thousands of years into the future. Time is such a difficult thing to understand, and even more difficult to cope with. To knowledge that everything she does will have been intended to happen. How, then, was she ever created? How was she able to have been birthed to return to the past, to guide a far earlier version of herself upon the right path, insuring her own existence in time? Time is something she refuses to think about now. She refuses to let her mind or focus be clouded by difficult thoughts.

Hours ago, in Queen Sierra's chambers, or Mistress Sierra to her own people, she was lulled into a sleep. A dream within a dream, to save her world created from dreams. This also begins to wear at her mind. The Mistress knows of the past. She is the third oldest creation, and though her knowledge is superior, she understands that she can only tell what she must. One day, she will have to come to that same understanding. Not today. Never today. Her body rests upon the high bed, surrounded by the fiercest Harem Fighters, ready to defend her life from the Ashen as she seeks the only weapon against them.

She sees the resemblances between the First, and the handful of races within Explicia. The Harem, led by Sierra, are based upon the Dreamer herself. Perhaps that is how Sierra knows so much about the past, and the dream. Perhaps she is the daughter of the Dreamer? But, of course, all races of Explicia are her children. The next she compares is the one known as Farsight. Karaka, the goddess of dreams, of innocence, allowing herself to be held in the hands- hooves- magic, of this creature. He can be no less than the inspiration for the Karakians, the warrior folk of Gundrithar. She almost pities him, in a strange way. He doesn't realize now that his own people will be the cause of Explicit's death, and the cause for the world she knows to fall into darkness once more.

Ryan, the boy with the ability to form pressure. His people are as clear as day! Cybians, the robotic, elf-like creatures of Techrius. Ten, the last of the Initial Construct, being their leader. Ten is the wisest and oldest of all creatures in Explicia. His existence even out dates the goddesses. In fact, he was present during their creation. As Explicit inadvertently surrenders part of herself and gives true stability to her world. The Cybians create technology, pressure based, to give power to their world.

The fairies she knows, the Fae being able to shift into their human forms. She has never met one of the mystical, strange creatures. It's said that they don't go by names, but rather markings, and they speak in whispers of thought. All likely legend, though, considering the First fae both can speak, and has a name. Her eyes shift to one of the greatest of the First. One she's heard stories of since she was a child.

The eyes. They seem to bulge, always watching behind metal. Those eyes can be found staring from the towers atop the fortress of the dead. The Eye, it is called, but it is not just that. The fortress is a living creature. Its death knights are its teeth, its form is its body, and below the earth is its stomach, where all those dead in dreams reside. The Eye constantly fights the Ashen and the Disease as it surrounds them, its thirteen death knights wreaking havoc upon them. She now knows the origins of its four walls. Ser's Wall, Daniel's Wall, Basil's Wall and Grim's Wall. All named in memory of this death knight.

So many thoughts, and all she can do is watch as the fight begins, progresses. She watches as Ser Daniel charges in, completely undeterred by the outnumbering foes. She would weep if her body did reside elsewhere.
 
Ryan let go of Daniel as soon as he turned his head. Looking up at the visor, tears began to well up in his eyes, but vanished at Daniel's words. "I won't be afraid." He said to himself as he watched Daniel charge in, unafraid, undeterred, though the same could not be said about Ryan. Even with the others, and a thing called 'Dream Shield', Ryan was afraid and uncertain about their chances.

So afraid, so very afraid. "I said I wouldn't be!" Ryan cries out in his head, burying his face in his hands. "Show them. Show them what you can do. You're hard as rock, they can't hurt you. Go!" The poor boy kept thinking, but none of it was able to persuade him to attack. Instead, he stood there, with his hands over his face.
 
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