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[Dwarmin]

She tried to stay away, but as the night dragged on, her eyes began to grow heavy and she slipped into a fitful sleep where she sat.

The dreams come for you too.

It's your mother again.

A face worn by constant worrying-a stern glance, like a face of stone. The things have been happening awhile ago.

Mother goes through phases. Brief spells of barely lucid happiness-baking four cakes in one day, knitting dozens of pairs of baby boots for no apparent reason. She sometimes is even nice to you, during these moments, if she notices you. These are usually followed by her worrying phases. She stalks. Mutters. Rants. Barely pays attention to herself, or you. She relentlessly works her religious medallion-she has many religions, your mother, but her favorite is Pelor. The Sun God. She constantly runs the old, weathered sun-emblem in her hands, over and over, hour after hour. Eventually even the sight of it will sicken Aldeth-a sun medal, wet with blood from constant fretting. The sharp edges cut her hands, but she doesn't stop...Aldeth learns cynicism at an early age-her mother timing the phases on some level of instinctual self preservation that allows her to keep society from ever seeing the damage she does to herself or her daughter. Outside, her rule is total and unchallenged.

Then comes the rages. They are almost always aimed at Aldeth. Evil. Demonspawn. Seed of Hell. Oddly, she is most lucid when at these times-she becomes sly and full of patient malice. Cast the evil out. Burn out the taint of sin...

...

"You're going to Hell, you know? Your flesh will burn and your bones will roast-a million years, will be but the first tick of eternity's clock." Mother says.

You're a child again, and you're in the 'waiting room'.

The 'waiting room' is a bare place made of stone, underneath the house. There are no windows, and it always has the strong smell of rot and mildew and creeping things...she makes you wait in an old, uncomfortable wicker chair-designed to be painful to sit on. If you so much as move an inch, a fist or a club or a painful magical spell will fly out of the darkness and strike you down. This will go on for hours. You never see your mother-she waits just out of the circle of the lamplight, her voice bouncing off the walls. Movement is punished. Tears are punished. Noise is punished. Of course, sometimes she'll ask you a quick question, just out of cruelties sake-not answering mother quick enough, is punished.

"...so, tell me about your new friends." Mother says slyly.

Kawtari closed her fist around the spark, knowing it wouldn't go out. It wasn't cold, though it almost seemed like it should be. Ah! She held the spark to a torch, hoping it would light, gain strength against the motionless, seething oblivion.

Spark. Spark. Darkness. The torch is black and empty. The lights flame won't catch.

Kawtari feels a sick sensation in her gut. It needs fuel. The light is like a living thing-it needs to feed to live.

The light grows a bit dimmer.

'Gods and spirits, how long has it been since I've redecorated?'

Break down and reconstruct my mindscape into something less gauche. Lots of dark wood, high ribbed ceilings with... sandstone, perhaps? Yes, orange-yellow sandstone blocks and tiles, that and polished mahogany. Long, columned, open bridges and walkways between sections, a lightly tinted green glass for the windows. Magical lights, of course, a natural sun-yellow.

All things are you have ordered are to be.

Dark Ironwood walls and floors curving majestically outward and skyward-with the scent of wood polish she loved as a child. Smells like progress. Sandstone blocks and mahogany beams tracing the skylines and platforms. Bridges arch into existence at her mental command, like delicately fluted glasses. And windows! Let in the sun! A brilliant display of golden light filtered through tinted green glass-somehow it reminds her of the color of life itself...

It is now morning, in the chateau du Samara.

[My Name is Immaterial]

"They're very nice... well... mostly. Samara's an elven wizard, but she's very distant. I don't think she likes anyone. Sarco's a lizardman warrior, and he can be nice. We don't talk much. Tadgh's a human berserker, and he's scary, both in and out of fights, so I stay away from him. Kawtari is probably the nicest of all of them, she's a Kenku warrior. She's the least scary of them all."
She glanced worriedly to side, hoping that she had answered her mother's question correctly, and that she wasn't asking about... T͈͇ḫ͓ȩ͙͉̥̟̤̲̬m̧͍͈͍͖ͅ.͖̠̦͔̙̯̭́.̦͔.͙̘͔̗̗̮̻

[Dwarmin]

"You think you can trust them? Really? Do they know what you are? Whats inside of you? Have you told them? Or do I have to do it myself?" She says, her voice whirling around you.

[My Name is Immaterial]

"Yes! They wouldn't leave me..." Her thoughts shift for a moment to Akira.
"I... I guess I can't." She bows her head in shame. Mother was right, and she was wrong, just like always.

[Criptfeind]

Sarco ran though the city as it crumbled around him. Desperately searching for whatever enemy was destroying his beloved home. His duty, his purpose, his reason for existence, was to fight and lay low the enemy. The destroy that which stood against his lords. He fervently searched, for anything that was within his power to stop.

[scriver]

Tadhg looked long and carefully down both ends of the bridge, then shrugged his shoulders and started wandering forwards, huddling under the storm.

Wherever the bridge went, hopefully there'd be warm clothes at the end.

[Flying Dice]

'Bliss.'

Samara settles herself before a still, clear pool of water in a carved stone depression, staring into it.

[GiglameshDespair]

Hmmph. She'd known, in a sense, that would have worked. She shut her fist around the spark, tighter, let it bore in to the flesh. She'd have to burn, herself, to keep the flame lit, and when she was naught but cinders... well, there'd be nothing left to care about the dark.

She stepped forward, toe-claws clacking on nothing. What was it she had to do? What was it?

[Dwarmin]

"Yes! They wouldn't leave me..." Her thoughts shift for a moment to Akira.
"I... I guess I can't." She bows her head in shame. Mother was right, and she was wrong, just like always.

"I'm glad you understand. You worried me daughter. Don't you know I'm the only one who loves you? The only one who can protect you? The only one you can trust...

Now, you won't try to hide from me anymore, will you. Not using those nasty tricks the Halfling taught you. Mother gets angry if she can't see you..." Mother says, and you're hoping there won't be any pain...

Sarco ran though the city as it crumbled around him. Desperately searching for whatever enemy was destroying his beloved home. His duty, his purpose, his reason for existence, was to fight and lay low the enemy. The destroy that which stood against his lords. He fervently searched, for anything that was within his power to stop.

Sarco charges through the crumbling city.

There! The enemy!

He is just too late to stop the cowled, menacing figure from slaying another victim. He watches with horror as the monster wraps a metal-chain weapon around the helpless lizardfolk civilian, draining her blood...into it's armor. It glows a bitter yellow, that armor-made of bronze bones. Without another word, the being tosses the corpse aside and stalks toward you. The figure seems familiar...it speaks to you in a rasp...that voice...

"Sarco. Trust me. This is all for the greater good."

The being stalks closer, her mace-chain flashing around her like a living sphere of metal.

Tadhg looked long and carefully down both ends of the bridge, then shrugged his shoulders and started wandering forwards, huddling under the storm.

Wherever the bridge went, hopefully there'd be warm clothes at the end.

There's really no end...how long can this bridge go?

Tadhg has walked for hours, feeling fatigue (even in a dream) lay steadily heavier and heavier upon him. He continues, perhaps because there is no other way to go...

He hears a voice. In the sea! He looks down to see one of the merfolk-bobbing in the stormy waves. She smiles up at him. Her eyes are like blue crystal, her skin the color of jade seaweed.

"What are you doing up there?" She calls in a musical, tempting voice. "Jump down here, with me. I can make you happy, Tadhg. Just jump down! You may not live, but whoever really does? Better to enjoy what time you have...with me...drowning isn't so bad if you have someone to hold you..." she tempts.

It would be easier to stop, wouldn't it?
 

'Bliss.'

Samara settles herself before a still, clear pool of water in a carved stone depression, staring into it.

The water seems to shimmer-your sub-conscious mind showing you things. Unfortunately, this channel is only showing Janu, that traitor Elf. Your hand automatically searches for the remote control crystal...

She speaks to you from the depths of the pool, mockingly.

"...Don't touch that crystal!

Samara, you fool. Do you really think we came to this land without permission? Do you think such a Glimmerpeak Elven noble would risk a censure from the Council of Seven to finish the grudge? We were invited here! Given a warrant, maybe even Arbiter badges. I don't know about you, but I'd be careful. It would be clear to anyone with intelligence that the Autumn-no, Winter Empire is-at least-complicit in the attack on your group..."

She smiles coyly.

"Which means I'm not going to be in the Baron's dungeons long, do you think?" Many laughs begin to echo from the pool, as if they were recorded somewhere.

Bah. Maybe you should change the channel...

Hmmph. She'd known, in a sense, that would have worked. She shut her fist around the spark, tighter, let it bore in to the flesh. She'd have to burn, herself, to keep the flame lit, and when she was naught but cinders... well, there'd be nothing left to care about the dark.

She stepped forward, toe-claws clacking on nothing. What was it she had to do? What was it?

This is the way.

The fire begins to consume your flesh.

The light grows as your sense fade...you feel a terrible regret...that you'll never see it...

In this, all things are made clear.

There is a fire in the center of time and space.

It's going out.

The price to relight the flames is not just flesh, but will-you must not only die, but go willingly-with the knowledge that your sacrifice will rekindle the flame of life...it is the single greatest choice any sentient can make. The choice to end their own existence...hopefully for the right reason...

As the light grows bright and brighter, your senses begin to fail, the flames killing your nerves and charring your feathers-but, there is a peace in this. As your own, personal darkness spreads...you have a relief, a minor one, that it is true darkness...for surely, is shadow no less a miracle than light?

...

Kawtari wakes up. She's in the communal Kenku nesting chambers, nestled with her kith and kin, standing on the sleeping racks with them. They are all gathered for warmth, here.

A restless night.

[scriver]

Tadhg looked long and carefully down both ends of the bridge, then shrugged his shoulders and started wandering forwards, huddling under the storm.

Wherever the bridge went, hopefully there'd be warm clothes at the end.

There's really no end...how long can this bridge go?

Tadhg has walked for hours, feeling fatigue (even in a dream) lay steadily heavier and heavier upon him. He continues, perhaps because there is no other way to go...

He hears a voice. In the sea! He looks down to see one of the merfolk-bobbing in the stormy waves. She smiles up at him. Her eyes are like blue crystal, her skin the color of jade seaweed.

"What are you doing up there?" She calls in a musical, tempting voice. "Jump down here, with me. I can make you happy, Tadhg. Just jump down! You may not live, but whoever really does? Better to enjoy what time you have...with me...drowning isn't so bad if you have someone to hold you..." she tempts.

It would be easier to stop, wouldn't it?

Would it? Tadhg doubts there are any great reserves of warm clothes down in the depths, and he was getting really cold. Besides, it's not like the bridge can go on for ever. Even open sea, as ever stretching as it might seem, ends somewhere... And bridges was made for travelling on.

He shakes his fist angrily at the merfolk before keeping on walkig down the bridge, still huddling.

[My Name is Immaterial]

"Yes, mother. I'm sorry..." Aldeth squeezed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth in expectation for whatever was to come.

[Dwarmin]

He shakes his fist angrily at the merfolk before keeping on walking down the bridge, still huddling.

The thunder crashes angrily, as if Tadhg is somehow missing the point.

...

His seemingly endless walk is interrupted yet again a few hundred miles on. This time it's his father calling to me-he's on his ship, the Shady Wench...the storm doesn't seem to bothering the crew much, but then again, there was never a better ship...you dreamed of being it's captain when you were a child...

"Tad, my son. Where are you going? Don't you know that what's at the end is just as bad as the trip there?" He says, chortling a familiar belly laugh. Vinsween could be charming and loving...when he wanted something from you.

"Come on deck, my boy. There's warm clothes in your bunk, and good food. What else could a Saffer man want? And when I go after my time ends, why, the ship will be yours boy-from father to son. Isn't that what you've always wanted? A ship of yer own? The seas would be yours-the freedom to do whatever you want.

All ye has to do is take my hand, Tad." He says, holding a grizzled paw out to you. Take his hand...step off the path...

"Yes, mother. I'm sorry..." Aldeth squeezed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth in expectation for whatever was to come.

You sense a sharp toothed smile, somewhere in the dark.

"...Daughter. We're almost done here. Let me give you advice.

When you see the lights like red lances cover your foe like armor, run. You'll never win. Just run. Leave your friends. Run, or you'll die! Run...run back to me...daughter...and we'll be family once more..."

Her voice slowly lowers in volume till there is nothing but an unpleasant growling noise. And bad words. The words are hidden words. Wrong Words. Rotten keys to doorways you never want to open.

You try not to make out these word you hear.

You're only partially successful.

...

Aldeth awakes, shivering in her thin bed.

Bad dreams.

[Criptfeind]

Sarco hissed his hatred at the foe that had appeared before him, so calously slaying those who's protection was his duty, his oath, his existence. He pulled out his knights maul and stalked towards the creature, swinging out cautiously to gauge it's strength. "You're good is not the good of anything else, monster. Your voice sound familiar... We must have fought in the past. I will not make the mistake of letting you live again!"

[Dwarmin]

"We have fought...side by side...you didn't have to kill me...all you would have had to do was let me die..." the figure rasps. The chain swings out, it's mace head clanging into your own warhammer. A ceremonial clash of weapons. The strength of it nearly knocks you back on your heels, but you keep balance with a practiced thrust of your tail.

 "...The armor, it needs blood, old friend. Blood for strength. Dragon blood. These Lizardfolk will do...but I need many. Many.

Their sacrifice is not in vain. I may kill a thousand here-but I use the power of the armor to save millions. Billions. Reality itself. Surely, that is a small price to pay...

...Step out of my way...or I'll have to take your blood too..." She says, a shimmering shape. You see the outline a metallic mask. A bird mask.

That bitter yellow glow gets brighter and brighter.

[My Name is Immaterial]

Aldeth involuntary swallows and glances around in fear; she didn't remember getting into bed. Did a Kenku or one of her friends move her into bed? Or... was it something else? Either way, she tried to recall the quickly fading dream she just emerged from... something about red lances on an enemy, running away and a great, uncontrollable fear of the mental protective abilities that Coney showed her.
A grumble in her stomach interrupted her, and she wandered off to find some breakfast while she waited for her companions to wake.