Fantasy Where Dreams go to Die

[welian]

GENRE


Modern, fantasy, action


LEVEL


Detailed


GAME MISTRESSES


Welian, Mordecai

STATUS


Open, not accepting new players


INSPIRATIONS


Madoka, Soul Eater, Sailor Moon


IMAGE CREDIT


Oneirology by Loish

 

[welian]

They came to you in a dream.


“Come with me,” they said. “Your dreams will come true. Your nightmares will become your servants.”


See, children, this is why we don’t accept invitations from strangers who take advantage of you while you’re unconscious.


San Jose, California: 3:17am, New Year’s Day


The wind blew crisp through the chilly night, carrying with it the scent of illegal firecrackers and cheap alcohol. A pitch-black shadow bubbled and oozed from the cracks of an old sedan parked in a college neighborhood. A dull shard of a clouded green core gleamed in the moonlight, before it was pulled back into the mass. The Terror crept up, and perched on the roof of the car, slowly growing larger as it absorbed the drunken nightmares of the fraternity brother passed out in the driver’s seat.


“Kekekeke...” The insectoid monster clicked and gurgled, and then disintegrated into hundreds of tiny bugs, off to find more food. The despair and unease of the weak-minded was delicious after all, and it only made a Terror stronger.


Etherea, the Sentinel’s Sanctuary


Clear waters flowed languidly through ancient stone gardens, where soft moss grew between the cracks and sturdy vines clung to the face of a terraced temple. Flowers from around the world were cultivated here, and a layer of cherry blossom petals from delicate ornamental trees carpeted the courtyard.


A fair-skinned woman with sleek black hair that hung far past her hips stood in the center of the gardens. She wore elegant white robes, with a gold-trimmed white hooded cloak. Before her stood a fresh crop of potential Knights, wide-eyed and wondering. She smiled, her dark eyes carefuly examining each of those whom stood before her tonight.


“Welcome. We’ve met before. I am the Sentinel, and I have chosen you for a very important mission.” This was a well-rehearsed speech. “I need you to help protect humans and dreams from each other… as Knights of Etherea.”


Other Knights had gathered along the edges of the gardens, observing the new recruits as they passed through the dream realm. They were all shapes and sizes and colors, and faded in and out as some woke up and others fell asleep.


“I chose you for the strength of your will, the clarity of your inner vision – the power of your own dreams, in short. With that, you will overpower the corruptions that plague your fellow mortals.”


It really wasn’t the most informative of introductions, but really, there were some things that could only be understood once you had experienced it yourself. The Sentinel raised her arms above her head, and three large ivory-colored tower shields materialized within the garden. They were each identical, decorated with a black ouroboros edged in gold.


“A small test. The first of you to crack any of these shields, will be the first to be Knighted Who of you, then, is the strongest?”

 

[Writer]

Thomas/Claire Ray


The Silver Knight


Sentinel's Garden

​

If Claire seemed surprised, it was because she was. Before, she had been reviewing the events of her day, imaging how much different she'd have reacted to that nasty customer who was unsatisfied with Thomas' delivery. It was so satisfying, finally having the right words to say to the stuck up son of bitch clad in his navy jacket and white button-up. Of course, Claire knew none of it was real. It was all her dream that she was controlling, even down to the reactions that the bastard had: profusely apologing and begging, pleading, for her forgiveness and mercy.


It hadn't been the first time Claire had done such a thing. In fact, it was a frequent occurrence that when Thomas went to sleep, Claire imagined such a thing playing out differently. Thomas was a stark contrast to Claire. Thomas wouldn't have had the ability to even think of such things, let alone say them. Instead, he was ever the submissive one, bending backwards head over heels to try and fix it. It being the design of the website, which had been previously discussed, shown, and agreed upon by both Thomas and the customer, the bastard. When time came for final showing, that greedy man said it wasn't what they agreed to at all, even though it was. He wanted a totally different design, one which would require hours of labor, and the scrapping of the one already made - for free. It wasn't until hours later that Thomas finally came up with the words he'd have told that fat, greedy pig. So, of course, what better way to play "what-if" out than within his lucid dreams, and that is where Claire came in.


It was therapeutic, in a way, releasing all that pent-up anger and frustration, the rage that had been bubbling just beanth the surface of Thomas' skin. It was like an underground bed of magma, just boiling and boiling away all day, and when finally sleep came upon him, Claire let it all out like an erupting volcano. Of course, it probably wouldn't make much of a difference, although Claire/Thomas wouldn't admit that. That is to say that doing it in the past hadn't mattered. Thomas would probably still end up doing the new work for free, regardless of if he'd honestly admit that to himself or not. But maybe, maybe tomorrow would be the day: the day that he finally stood up for himself and said enough was enough, the day he really stepped into his own and took charge of his life. Or perhaps it wouldn't be. The future's fickle that way.


Claire had been right at the most satisfying moment of that dream. The Grand Finale. The Big Climax. The Last Hurrah. And then, she wasn't. From one moment to the next, everything around her had changed.


Gone was the interior of her house with that muted yellow paint. Gone was the sounds and noises of a typical San Jose day. Gone was...everything. In its place was perhaps one of the most beautiful sights Claire had ever laid her eyes upon.


Beauty, perhaps, wasn't a good enough word to describe the location. It was so amazing, Claire thought, that even trying to use words and language to describe what she saw before might be too limiting. The best way to describe the location was to imagine the most perfect spring day you can think of, in the most glorious garden on Earth. Now, magnify that a few million times and you might come close to sheer grandeur of the location she was standing at. It wasn't just the view of the fauna, nor the perfect feeling of a warm spring sun breathing life into her skin, and not even the gentle running of the water, pattering down through creek, that made the place so fantastic. The entire place had this feeling of overwhelming peace and acceptance that just flowed out from it in all directions, so overwhelming that you couldn't help but hug it, and maybe even drown in it.


Then, the woman spoke. And slowly, Claire came to the realization that she was not alone. There were others, standing right beside her soaking this all in. She didn't turn her head to see them, but she could feel their presences next to her. But as soon as Claire laid eyes on this woman, Claire knew that she was the source of this place, the center, so to speak, where that raw emotion she had felt flowed from. Not only that, but she seemed familar too, like a distant, hazy memory from a dream once dreamed.


As the woman continued her monolouge, there was so many questions that flew across Claire's mind it was impossible to keep track of them all. Knights? Chosen? Etherea? She would have interrupted in an outburst, but her gut told her that although she did not understand everything that was happening to her now, one day soon it would all make perfect sense.


The simplest thing to do seemed to be go along with the woman's instructions: try to smash the stones. Well, that seemed simple enough. When no one stepped forward to be the first one, Claire, not one against putting herself out there, took a step forward, separating herself from the others.


"I'll take a shot," she stated meekly. She wasnt exaclty confident, but Claire wasn't one to back down from a challenge. With the first step done, the question remained how she going to hit one of the stones, and with what. If only she had some stick or something...


As if on demand, her right hand was suddenly grasping something. Looking down, Claire realized two things. One: her outfit had changed from her dream. It seemed different, yet important in some way, although she would have to focus on that later. Two: A parasol, which from the looks of the quick flashes of color she had gleemed matched her new attire, had materialized out of nowhere in her hand.


"Huh," Claire puzzled aloud. A parasol? It couldn't have been a baseball bat or something? She doubted this thing would even do a dent to a stone like that. The poor parasol would probably snap in two the second it made contact. Still, it was better than using her fists, and when life gives you lemons...


Deciding that she could, in fact, use the parasol like a baseball bat, she walked the rest of the distance to the right stone. Assuming the posture of a slugger, from Thomas' memories of his days in baseball, she positioned the parasol in her hand like a baseball bat. She had no idea what the hell was going to happen. Hell, she doubted she'd really make a dent with a parasol, but she had no doubts that something was going to happen. But hey, she was still asleep right? And if it was a dream, then who was to say a parasol couldn't break a stone? Yeah, anything could happen in dreams!


With new self-talked-up confidence squashing her doubt, Claire could visualize in her head the stone smashing to pieces when this parasol made contact with it. It seemed so strong to her, like fate had all but been written. All she had to do was play her scripted part and swing. So, with that fresh thought in her mind, she winded the parasol back, and then she took the biggest, strongest swing she could muster directly at the stone.

 

[Kharmin]

<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_01/DMC_closecrop.jpg.8263f1ce87ef0b6b8f3a7ec2764cd177.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="96175" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_01/DMC_closecrop.jpg.8263f1ce87ef0b6b8f3a7ec2764cd177.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p> Sentinel's Garden


What was this BS all about? Danielle was just about to dispense justice with extreme prejudice on a nightmare she had been tracking down for at least an hour and then ... then, this "Sentinel" whisked her away to this garden utopia which, unfortunately, was devoid of any nightmares needing slaying.


Dani fumed at the incredulity of it all. The Sentinel wanted her to become part of some knighthood for eliminating nightmares and protecting humankind? Wasn't the woman paying attention? That's what Danielle was already doing when she was so abruptly – no rudely! -- interrupted.


Externally, Danielle didn't display any of her frustration or impatience at this brief interlude. Rather, she stood passively with the point of her two-handed sword lightly punctured in the pristine garden's lawn while she casually leaned her arm on it just above the cross-piece. Her countenance was masked with a wry smile as she raked her platinum blonde hair back with her free hand. Her steel-grey eyes cut the short distance between herself and the Sentinel as she strove to pay attention to the brief monologue.


Artificial light from an indeterminate distance suffused the small gathering but shared no warmth as a real sun might. The illusion of peacefulness in the garden – gentle flowing stream with carefully laid cherry blossom petals marking its easy passage, multitude of flowers arranged "just so" and the well tended lawn – it all hid the fact that they were in a place filled with dangers, whether or not this fantastic oasis existed or not. Danielle wondered if the others gathered in this place saw or felt the area in the same way or if their illusions were tailored more to their own, individual perceptions.


Then, the test. Danielle had to suppress a laugh at the folly of it. If this Sentinel had truly been watching her of late, she would already know Danielle's capabilities in fighting nightmares. Dani doubted it now. Had this entity, or whatever it claimed to be, actually been that observant, then she would not have interrupted Dani's pursuit scant moments before. Or, at the least, would have let Danielle finish the job first.


She looked critically at the shields that had been summoned in front of them. The Sentinel wanted a show of strength, but Danielle would be the first to argue that destroying nightmares wasn't always a matter of brute force. True, Dani experienced a certain euphoria when dispatching nightmares, and with strong, lethal force as well; however, finding the most advantageous position with which to attack nightmares was much more than simply walking up to one and hitting it as hard as you can.


Danielle itched to get back to what she had been doing, but figured that if the Sentinel could bring her to this garden by her own will, then she could probably bring Dani here again if she tried to leave. So, with impatience trying to claw its way out from within her, Danielle stood her ground and watched as the woman with the parasol approached one of the shields.


This ought to be ... educational, Danielle thought as the wry grin re-appeared on her thin lips.

 

[Liberty Penn]

Dio - Sentinel's Garden


Dio smiled as he deftly jumped between rusty garbage cans, wrecked cars, and swipes of a monster's claws. "Just another day in Etherea" he thought, laughing to himself. He had spotted the terrifying beast while strolling through the Barren Borough, crawling among the wrecked buildings. It was all tooth, claw, and death, but Dio couldn't resist jumping over and poking it in the eye. Expectedly, the creature responded with a loud roar and repeated attempts to disembowel the one who had poked it.


The small boy had never had trouble with lesser nightmares like this, they were much easier to play around with than the more powerful ones. 'At least this one doesn't have laser eyes,' he thought as he jumped on top of a sign on a broken shopfront, just out of reach of the thing. Lounging against the brick wall of the building, he conjured up a few mini Dios, each about 6 inches tall and perfect copies of him. With a military salute, he sent them down to lead the creature around in circles.


Dio laughed as the creature swiped at the air, dug in piles of garbage, and ran into walls trying to grab his illusion. Dismissing his mini Dios, he jumped back into the street. Standing 30 paces away from the creature, it stared at him with an angry fire in its eyes and charged. Doing nothing to stop it, the small figure stood there as the beast barreled down on him. As the horns swiped but met only air, a laughter broke the silence and the creature sailed through what was only another illusion. Dio was still sitting up on the rusty sign, going invisible he had just sent an image of himself down.


It stared at the laughing air above sign, still annoyed but starting to give up on this meaningless fight, when a figure turned the corner. A man in a blue jump suit with a yellow stripe and yellow numbers gave a momentary look of surprise and immediately raised his gun to the creature. It was a passing dream. Dio, still invisible on the sign, leaned forward, "Oooo. This aught to be good." The dream was a common one around this area, "Pit Dweller? Vault Guy? Ah! I can never remember his name," Dio thought.


For the next ten minutes, Dio relaxed on the sign and subtly helped the Vault Guy out in his fight- a laser blast that was more blinding than normal, a claw attack that missed by just a few inches, a bite that should have grasped his whole head missing entirely. Despite this figure not jumping around the street and throwing illusions at it like he had, the creature was having just as hard of a time with him.


Sitting there invisible, having a fun time messing with the creature, Dio suddenly felt himself being pulled away. The dirty streets of the Barren Borough faded before him and green trees and flowers appeared in their place. The last moment he saw of the blue figure was him being thrown against a wall with a claw finally connecting.


Upset over Vault Guy probably loosing the fight now and also knowing who had summoned him, Dio turned his head with an annoyed look toward the Sentinel. It was the same speech starting all over again: she wanted more knights.


Over the years after Dio had finally started venturing out from the Weeping Woods, he had gotten a few calls like this before. When she had first made contact she pulled him aside and explained to him that this was a world of dreams and that the physical world, Corporea, was where he was from. At first Dio couldn't believe her. This was the world he knew, he didn't remember any other. He ran from her that day, but she did eventually called him back again much later. Still not completely sold on the whole 'Corporea' thing, he was tentative to listen to her. She said again that their mission was to protect people and dreams. That was not something he was overly excited to do, but its something he could accept if it was 'for the greater good'. After a quick show of his power, she offered him a position, and he warily accepted.


But today, something seemed different. He had heard of experienced knights sometimes being brought in for the sake of the new recruits, but never this many and never him. He had always assumed she didn't want him messing around during the ceremony or scaring the newbies, so he had never gotten an invite since his initial first and second visits.


He listened to her spiel about their 'mission', the 'corruption', and finally the test. Jumping up to the shoulders of a large statue among the flowers and trees, he sat comfortably ready to watch who would come forth. "Hey, Midas," Dio whispered into his pocket, "the fight's over. Wana watch some newbies?" A small golden light ball of a dream zoomed out of his pocket and around his head. After some high humming, Dio responded, "Nah, it's just the Sentinel. Seems something important is going on today." Leaning his staff against the statue's head and reclining back with a bag of popcorn suddenly appearing in his hands, "So lets get ready for the show."


Despite desperately wanting to mess with the newbies (make the shields look like their not breaking, make them explode, turn them into monsters, etc.), he felt like today he shouldn't. Something seemed different about this gathering. For now, he would sit and watch.

 

[Zahzi]

Ash Weiss

Location: Sentinel's Garden

Around: Overlooking the Recruits

D/C: 30/100

Twelve-hundred and eighty-six days.

From one of many balconies arranged within the Sentinel's domain stood a figure. The Knight of Iron looked down at the newest batch of would-be Knights. Children, really. Just how they stood there, how they looked up at the snake talking amongst them; it was clear none of them had ever taken a life. One in the dream world, perhaps. A few in their video games, sure, from the look of some of the appearances in front of him. A rule of thumb he had learned from his time here was that the more normal a person appeared, the less likely they would last long here. And unfortunately, they all looked absolutely bonkers. From the ones that just looked like genderswapped imitations of copyrighted works, to the seemingly questionable ideas of others....Weiss was finding very little redeeming traits in this batch of fodder.

Twenty hours.

And it would appear one of them is using....An umbrella. Oh joy. Clearly the fates of all within Corporea and Etherea are safe for as long as they exist in a world where their only threats are from the drizzle and sunshine. Clearly, the snake is doing her fucking job. And now the lounge singer was attempting to use it like a bat against the serpent's infamous shields. With the sheer amount that had been thrown at him alone, he could attest to the idea that a shield could be used for more than basic defense. For how much she acts like a friendly, compassionate individual, she seems far too quick to drop them on people's heads like a mobile guillotine.

Seventeen minutes.

Looking down at the rest of the group, he recognized one of them; the monkey boy. One of the few people here who had been here longer than him. Though that was where the similarities dropped like a fly. The boy relished his time here, where Weiss straddled on a line between hatred and loathing of his experiences here. Sure, he could understand how the majority of dreamers could find this place, Etherea, to be paradise. But Weiss...All he ever saw was another seat of hell he found himself stuck in.

Thirty-two seconds...Thirty-three seconds....

"Ahh...The shield test." A low tone bellowed from behind Weiss, forcing the Knight to look around, only for a single crow to perch upon one of his helmet's horns.

"Tests their strength...Determination...And how quickly they will resort to violence." the crow itself didn't speak, but the voice came from it all the same, acting as a link from its creator.

"Come to gawk at the newest batch of misfits too, Lynch?" Weiss grunted, looking up at the crow.

"I am literally a crow, Weiss. You could have at least said sq-"

"Not. In the mood." Weiss growled in retort, interrupting the pun.

"Very well. I am here to see if the Sentinel is still making sure the new batch is up to the challenge before them." Lynch replied, looking down at the group.

"I'm sure seeing this is alien to you, Weiss. Your initiation into the fold was less...Formal."

"Not everyone has their hand held." Weiss crossed his arms, his stare focused on the shields below.

"And speaking of formal, I do believe it is about to become anything but in about..." Lynch trailed off, as if expecting something to happen, much to Weiss' confusion.​

 

[Ozmic]

Prologue


V.A. Blackwell >> The Malachite Knight


Sentinel's Garden
​

The smell of ozone drifted through the immediate area of a small outcropping in the Sentinel's Santuary and, with a small 'whumph', the Malachite Knight stood there. The pull in his mind had been enough to spark his curiosity.


Knights were being christened this day.


Others had heeded the same call, he noticed, covered face tilting slightly to the side as he observed them all warily. He wasn't exactly out of place here, but one couldn't be too cautious. After-all, anything could happen in Etherea.


Facing the fair-skinned Sentinel even from a good distance, he stared and listened at the speech, smiling wryly behind his 'mask' at the familiarity of it. Her words thrummed with purpose and power, the perfect motivator for the newcomers - most of them anyway. Some of the new faces seemed distant, confused or outright impatient.


Moving fluidly, he drifted closer with careful steps, to have a look at some of the 'recruits' as the large shields faded into existence and the Sentinel explained the test. He wondered if using the word 'strength' was a purposeful one. Strength here could be brute-ish and powerful, but it could also be the very definition of one's will to succeed. A huff of light laughter came from his nostrils, almost silent, as he eyed a few of the Knights-to-be.


The first he noticed, a small and soft looking girl with a parasol, dragged a surprised blink and a nod. An odd choice of 'weapon', but he'd seen some doozies before. Despite her frame and the meek voice that emerged from her, the determination on her face contrasted beautifully.


Moving on, his eye glowed absently as they set on a second woman. This one looked much more outwardly fierce, nearly white-blonde hair hanging over sharp gray orbs that seemed to match the very sharpness of the two-handed blade she wielded. An air of impatience surrounded her, but it wasn't so strong that it seemed to be effecting her drive toward listening or paying attention to the 'test' at hand.


Oh, yes. This was going to be interesting indeed.


Extending one hand from his tattered cloak, he held out the bandaged limb and his staff glowed into existence and into his awaiting palm. He gripped it and leaned forward, supporting himself on it as he scanned the gathering 'crowd' now. It was awfully diverse as usual. All sorts of beasts and humanoids stood 'round watching as they awaited the fun to begin.


It was as beautiful as it was absurd, he thought with a smile, and stopped thinking long enough to enjoy the show himself.

@welian, @Writer, @Kharmin

 

[Sunbather]

Location:


Inner city (Real world)


Tags:


@Everyone who's in the dream.

Chloé Adrianna Pavlyuchenko


"Ugh... Ugh... Uuuugh..." Her heavy leather jacket inched closer and closer to slowly leaving its designated place - The boney shoulders of Chloé Adrianna Pavlyuchenko. Not that it was an exception to the norm - Chloé, despite all of her appreciation for fashion, as well as the ridiculous price tags the vast majority of her wardrobe once carried, often dressed like an infant tasked with encasing an elephant in sandwich paper. Sloppily and unkempt, she'd regularly have mismatching socks, folds all over her attire or, just like she does now, a low hanging jacket. Today wouldn't have been any different, if it weren't for the damn thing forcing her to slow down in order to pull it back up. "Where is it? Where... are... you?" Her mumbling disappeared went unheard by the pedestrians passing her left and right, while her eyes restlessly scanned the surrounding.


A whirling sound reached her ears, causing her to swirl around, barely catching a dark, scaley tail disappearing underneath a rental garage gate. "Gotcha" Chloé wasn't used to persuing terrors in broad daylight and on foot. Well... not on merely two feet, that is. The reality of her situation set in, further sapping her already rapidly depleting energy. Suddenly, a feeling of lethargy set in, so overwhelmingly tiring that she feared collapsing onto the walkway. Her head turned a few times while she attempted to recognize her surroundings. She had thrown all caution out of the window once she had gotten a glance of the escaped terror. Her sense of duty for Etherea was one of the few extreme emotions residing underneath the flaming red hair, resulting in a temporary state of vitalized recklessness taking control. Now, however, there was little she could do with her twig-like body. More importantly, there was even less she wanted to do right now, longing for a bed to collapse on. The passengers, so blissfully unaware of the lurking beast a mere few feet away from them, didn't exactly help the situation - On the contrary, they stressed Chloé out more than anything.


Her hands glid into her pants's pockets, quickly pulling out a thin mobile phone. The number was a familar one, being called quite frequently. For the fraction of a second, her mind conjured the image of her digits appearing on the company screen, announcing her 1000th time phoning the cab service and triggering some sort of celebration, with balloons rising and all that jazz. As she waited for the other side of the line to anwer, her eyes searched for a street sign, barely finding one in time to answer the man picking up the phone. "Yes... as soon as possible. Thanks." Her interactions on the phone were always short and to the point. It was hard enough to try and comply with what people expected of her when she was in a social situation forcing her to engage in smalltalk. The luxury of being brusque when conversing like this was one she cherished and made use of pretty much all the time.


Her eyes half closed and an almost dizzy expression on her face, she spent the next twelve minutes waiting for the taxi to arrive, while her glance half-heartedly creeped over to the garage door, trying to confirm it didn't escape. Yet. How long would it take her home? Surely not more than 20 minutes. Maybe half an hour at the most. She'd have to be an idiot to expect that this thing would remain there, waiting for her like a lap dog. In a lack of alternative actions, she shrugged it off as her car arrived. She worldlessly opened the backdoor of the cab, stretching her legs out before giving the driver her home adress. Chloé couldn't help but filter out his vaguely Boston-ish accented attempts at making conversation, instead letting her heavy head press against the cool window, sliding further down for a second or two before resting motionlessly. Her thousand yard stare was taking in passing scenery only to forget about it the very next second. Silence ensued.


"Thanks." Chloé handed him a 100US$ note without even looking, waving off his motion towards the large wallet in which he carried the change. Truth be told, she wasn't just kind and wanted to give him a big tip, rather than trying to avoid waiting for him to count the change, let alone the hassle of puttng away the money he'd have handed her. Her pace actually accelerated, now that the sweet imagery of solitude and a comfortable bed her head had clamoured for was a reality just a few stairs away.


Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap... tap... tap...


...


Tap.


...


Tap.


Finally, first floor. Her body had already began to turn towards the left, where her room was waiting. She let the jacket slide off of her back, leaving it behind on the floor. Chloé couldn't care less. Hell, even if it was bothering anyone, the maid would pick it up later, no big deal. It's just a jacket. Her door opened with that distinct noise one; not quite silent but not a squeak either. Like a breeze hunting over dusty floorboards. Quite literally the sound of silence. Subtle ideas and perceptions had no room inside of Chloé's head as of now though. Instead, a hefty swing forced the door to close behind her back with a bang. Slipping out of her shoes by using one foot to step on the heel of the other, Chloé littered her uncomfortable clothes across her floor, leaving a trail on her way to the bed, then slumped it. "Finally...", she sighed before letting her already squinted eyes close shut fully, drifting off into somber sleep rather quickly.


Hazy mist billowed around her for a moment, only to let her hover out of it as if she left her cocoon. "What the...?!" Today felt off. Nothing seemed to take form around her. Instead, everything her eyes witnessed was a mess of dark shades, ranging from mere black, over eggplant to indigo and denim. Chloé's thoughts immediately went to the few things she knew about religion and imagined that this must be what limbo would be like. A few cautious steps followed, with which she attempted to cross the unsettling darkness. Maybe I'm not asleep deep enough yet... That certainly was a possibility in her mind, though it furthered her worries. Surely the terror had long escaped by now... There wasn't much time to complain about uncertain events, however, as Chloé suddenly felt herself get pulled into a flickering light that seemed to spawn out of thin air. Just as the brightness got so intense that she instinctively shielded her eyes from it with her, it dimmed down as quick as it had appeared. To her surprise - but also to her relief - Chloé found herself in the middle of a backalley somewhere in the city. A couple of bugs flew around her head, irritating her more than she would've liked to admit. Swatting at them with her now oversized, heavily armored claws, her body began to move towards the little garden atop the wall lining the alley. To her surprise, the bugs did not appear to have gotten squished from her casual swipes. As weird as it seemed to the now transformed knight, enough time had been lost, resulting in dismissing the oddity and instead attempting to locate the alley she had seen the terror disappear in.


As always, a difference of day-and-night-like proportions in energy coated Chloé's massive dreamself in vigorous spirit, resulting in a horrifyingly psyched up monstrosity making her way through town. The four legs cornering the round lower body, littered with dents and marks. The elongated, thinner upper body on which a comparetively normal - normal by human standards - was positioned, with arms and hands, and a sleepy looking face framed by relatively short, pitch black hair. Truely, her upper half would look somewhat normal - albeit still clearly not human, if it wasn't for the massive arms and claws and that gaping mouth growing out of the back of head, looking like its giant tongue and saber teeth were prepared to devour the souls of generations to come. Her deceivingly stubby legs tensed up, then propelled her upwards, where she sped across the little paddock, only to crash right into an intersection 'causing a plethora of panicked honks, screams and screeching tires, belonging to vehicles attempting to get away from the frightening individual. "Oops..."


Frowning, Chloé made sure to get on her way, not wanting to cause any chaos (at least not anymore than needed) and make her way through town, followed everywhere by shrieking citizens. Chloé was used to it, yet it surprised her that, after having been on a couple of crusades against the terrors, so many people continued to be in the dark about her nature. As disheartening as it was, she couldn't blame them - Not to mention that it was amusing. At least a tiny little wee bit funny. More bugs. More flailing to dispel them. "Hey!" Right after banishing any and all traces of the pesky insects out of her sight, the corner of her eye registered a vaguely familar tail, fluttering after what surely was her target. With hasty steps - four at a time - her spherical shape chased after the terror.


The two creatures, bathing in a soundscape of fear issued by every last bystander framing their path, now involved in a cat and mouse game were of similar speed, allowing Chloé to get a better look at just what exactly she was facing. It appeared to be some sort of black dragon. With rotten looking skin inbetween the gaunt bones of its wings, and festering wounds scattered across its thick hind legs, it seemed like an undead beast. An undead beast that was now going up, straight into the sky. "Great!" Disappointed, Chloé's momentum slowly dissipated until she came to a halt, unsure what to do next. She couldn't fly, that much was clear.


The marvelous realization that she wouldn't have to, came to her in a less marveouls fashion - A tackle into her back, executed by the undead beast, to be precise. "Urgh!" The terror certainly had stockpiled some force with its flight's height, sending Chloé right into a close by wall framing an artificial hill on which a law firm was located atop. Along with some debris, Chloé's body peeled off the cement, letting her drop on the pavement. "Ouch..." Her sharp gauntlets weren't exactly suited to rubbing her temples - Not that she had time to do so to begin with seeing how the terror appeared to charge up an attack. Escaping at the last minute, Chloé evaded the green, pest-like flames shot from its mouth by the skin of her teeth. Now properly startled, she lunged forward, digging her claws into the dragon's bloodless, already decaying neck, holding onto it with all her strength. "Gotcha!" A bone-chilling howl wafted through the boulevard, cried out by the terror, as Chloé's second metalic hand found its way into one of its scapulas. Chloé ached, concentrating all her power into her actions, while the dragon flailed around in agony, desperately attempting to shake off the knight's bulky frame. A hopeless task, as it turned out. With one last struggle, its elongated neck found itself waggling around in Chloé's hands, detached from its body.


Somewhat disgusted, the Desidiab Knight accurately summed up the gruesome sight: "Blaaargh..." At least that's over... She allowed her body to crumple down, sitting in the middle of the street, exhausted and in need for some deep breaths. Her desire was not granted, unfortunately, as Chloé found herself getting warped away. Away from Corporea, away from panicking bystanders and away from honking cars, instead swirling into a monotone light, only to manifest in a paradise-like world she remembered all too well. The soothing voice of a woman reached her ears, giving her a vague estimate of how far apart they were. More annoyed then tired now, Chloé tiredly strolled over to the group, grunting towards the Sentinel. "Geez, Lady A... Is it just me or do the newbies get a friendlier introduction each time I'm around?" she chuckled, not bothering to greet the potential future knights right away. Instead, she threw the severed head - along with its neck, a trail of blood droplets and the piece of bone sticking out - right in front of the newly initiated, luring a few squeaks out of the less composed ones. Chuckling, Chloé took on a lurking position, her round body supported by the large arms now dug into the ground, giving her a six-legged appearance. "Don't let me bother you."

 

[Pentagon]

"Freude, schöner Götterfunken tochter aus Elysium"


The lyrics, pronunciation imperfections rendered smooth by inattention, drifted around snow-capped peaks and giant-gouged valleys, carrying miles more than they should on air that only existed hypothetically.


"Wir betreten feuertrunken, himmlische, dein Heiligtum!"


Accompanying the famous tune, a soft scraping of metal on metal droned soporifically, warped more terrible than it had any right to be. The dulcet tones, bearing their harsh ballast, continued unabashed, absentmindedly pouring from a metallic figure, entirely impossible anywhere else in the cosmos, standing before a quickly-forming statue in reverent focus.


The Eschatologue ceased his musical discharge with his medium, and finally noticed the figure which had appeared before him in its entirety. From his extended hand, a jet of radiant silver stretched, already beginning to foul and blacken. The undulating line of fading beauty extended into a crude facsimile of a human body, standing motionless and unnerving. The figure resembled a young girl, as far as such a crude creation could be said to resemble anything. It was bulbous in some places, spindly in other. Its limbs were too long, its head far too large, and its legs trailed off into uncertainty as the Knight's memories failed him.


The imperfect figure of lithium, five seconds of fierce concentration, vanished without fanfare. It winked out of existence, as though to taunt the Knight before it with his own failure. Failure to accurately conceptualize had been the Richard’s problem since he first entered the dream world. His form, coruscating and temporary, was a testament to that fact. Richard assumed that his subconscious had been projecting its imperfect idea of an android when he was created in this world, and now that the changeability of the form had become part of his self-conception, Richard feared the inevitable acceleration of changes. He made a mental note to investigate Etherea’s limits in extrapolating clearly-expressed volition: perhaps there was some advantage to that line of inquiry.


The metallic figure raised a hand again, and another spout of lithium poured out, each atom building on the other. Theoretically, the spindle could be as thin as Richard desired, but such minute detailing took more concentration than it was worth. He could only focus for so long, and he would rather try and shape his figure correctly rather than optimize his approach to it.


From the stream of solid metal, a tree began to form, horizontal and sprouting from the roots up. The stream widened into a trunk, and occasionally split off into thick branches, each forming smaller protrusions until terminating at leaves. The figure came out better this time, likely on account of the larger scale. When all was done and the metal stopped flowing, he had been at work for the better part of a minute. Some leaves were too thick; others flaked off and fell to the stone floor as their supports were too weak to bear their weight. It reminded the Eschatologue of an aluminum cast of an anthill, and its imperfection galled him still. He had been making progress, of course, with each night that passed he became better equipped to handle his abilities, but by now the constant small improvements were no longer enough to satisfy him after hours of diligent work.


The tree vanished, and Richard cast about him for distraction. The peaks of the way brought the solitude needed for reflection and practice, but they did little to stave off boredom once the work was done. Richard wondered if he should venture to the Abyss. A few nights ago he had found the Dream of Line Infantry, and was determined to meet it again and talk. The research opportunities within Etherea were myriad, and Richard knew he had only scratched the surface, shackled as he was to his Sentinel.


Just as the name passed through his mind, he felt the demanding tug, expectant and self-assured. He was needed in the Sanctuary, apparently. Antique military dreams would have to wait, he supposed. The Eschatologue surrendered himself to the impetuous tugging, and felt himself slip through a fold in the world, depositing himself gracefully on the veranda of the Sanctuary. Richard listened for the razor-sharp silence, and was rebuffed by the sounds of combat and the murmur of conversation.


The metal knight slotted himself alongside the few familiar faces, taking a place in between Malachite and a nondescript entity, bothering neither, and assuming a comfortable stance to watch the proceedings. He laughed unintentionally as the head arced its way into the spectacle, the unexpected gore’s absurdity rousing Richard from his post-focus torpor, if only a little.

 

[Elle Joyner]

...Sweet Dreams...

Location: Etherea


Mood: Buoyant

Imogen Martin had a certain saying that she lived by, a saying that she had ground into her granddaughter's mind with absolute conviction.

'If you want the world to see you, shine bright'

​

Already a leg up, with hair the color of saffron and eyes green as a cat's iris, she never had much difficulty standing out, but it was a vibrant disposition and unmitigated love for life that truly set Olive Martin apart from what was average. She was... incandescent. A little spark of sunlight, glittering in a dark and brooding world.


But even the sun had to set from time to time. Her shift at Muse had run long and ten hours working in six inch stilettos, even doing something you loved, was enough to put anyone out of commission for the rest of the evening. It was a three block walk back to her apartment from the nightclub and she arrived roughly around 2:00 AM. Light peeped through the crack beneath the door, an orange wink in the darkness of the hallway. Slipping her key into the lock, pushing her way inside she found Idgie nodding off at the kitchen island. There was a cup of tea between the older woman's frail hands, steam spiraling in curling tendrils upwards.


"Gigi..." Olive sighed, "Why aren't you in bed?"


Muted grey eyes turned to Olive, thin beige lips crumpling up in a tight smile, "Ollie. You're back so late. Are you quite alright? You're limping, dear."


"It's these miserable heels, is all." Olive said, smiling. She leaned to unclick the clasp, kicking out of the black patent leather nightmares, "Come on, Gigi. Let's get you to bed. I know you don't need the beauty sleep, you gorgeous thing, you... but you shouldn't be up at this hour."


"I can't sleep, Ollie. The shadows..." Shaking her head, Olive helped Idgie from the stool and with slow, easy steps, led her grandmother to the door, just past the bulky blue couch. Her bedroom was small, roughly the size of a walk-in closet, but it fit a twin sized bed and a small dresser, and Idgie's knitting chair and basket of yarn. When Olive had moved Idgie in, she'd insisted on giving the woman the bedroom, and had taken to sleeping in the living room. Idgie so rarely used the bed anymore, however, and more often than not, Olive spent the evening curled up in her father's old chair, while her grandmother slept on the couch. The nightmares were getting worse, and Olive was beginning to fear it wasn't just Idgie's physical health that was suffering.


"The shadows... Olive. They're getting closer. They'll be here, soon."


"It'll be alright, Gigi. I'm gonna watch over you, like I always do. You know I won't let anyone hurt you.


"It's not me I'm worried about, sweetheart... They aren't coming for me. It's you..." Idgie's watery eyes shifted to Olive, so resolute, so acutely focused that the expression sent a chill along Olive's spine.


"I'd like to see them try." Olive chirped, smiling through the nerves, "Don't know who raised me, those old shadows. Now come on... under the covers with you."


Fifteen minutes later, Imogen was snoring soundly, and Olive curled up in the plush knitting chair, watching as the soft pink quilt rose and fell with each deep breath the woman took. She was getting worse, sleeping only a few hours a night, waking in tears or with screams of panic. Twice, Olive had to call an ambulance, terrified Idgie was having a stroke. These nightmares, they were killing her... and Olive was at a loss for how to stop them.


Tucking her feet beneath her, Olive frowned. The weight of her eyelids, still made up with bright lime-colored shadow, grew heavier. Breathing out, she let them close

When her eyes opened... if they did open, Olive wasn't in San Jose anymore. She wasn't in Kansas, either. She also wasn't alone. All around her, others stood... most of them staring with rapt attention to the woman in the center of their circle, pretty enough to be Eve in their proverbial Eden. She spoke, her voice warm and welcoming, her words flying right over Olive's head like delicate birds.


Sentinel... Etherea... Inner Vision.


It reminded her of one of those Yoga videos her co-worker Miriam had made her try, once. Except she was pretty sure this wasn't dream-induced exercise. Was that even a thing? She supposed with how vivid, how realistic her dreams normally were that it was possible.


But then the woman was speaking again and Olive forced herself to pay attention, because Idgie had always told her it was rude not to listen when someone else was talking. The woman, the Sentinel, raised her arms overhead and as she did, a most amazing display of off-white... things... rose from the ground. Staring at them like a magpie might a piece of tinsel, Olive heard something about a test...


The first of you to crack any of these shields, will be the first to be Knighted


Looking around her, curiously, Olive watched as the others moved into place. They seemed confident enough, and certainly not anywhere near the level of confusion that Olive was stalled on. How willingly the accepted the task, and how unquestioningly they set about attacking the shields.


It seemed a shame to break the pretty things, but if that was the test. Lips pursed, Olive looked down at her hands. She must have stared at them for a good several seconds, but as the motions of the others around her continued with furious vigor and focus, all she managed was to find another freckle on the back of her left hand.


"Huh..." She murmured, and as she did a small, transparent bubble popped from the palm of her hand. Staring in awe, Olive held her hands out as far as they would go. "What is the--"


Another bubble popped, this one slightly larger than the first. Because it was the only thing she could do, Olive grinned. A third bubble followed the second, and this time, she let it hover over her palm. With her free hand, she poked at it... but it didn't pop. Giggling, Olive poked at it again... wiggled her fingers over it... waved her hand through it. Like a cell phone screen, she pinched the shell of the bubble and drawing her fingers outwards, watched as it grew in size. Bouncing the thing off her palm, she let it hover between her hands, and with the same pinching motion, pulled outwards. The bubble grew, exponentially.


Waving her hands, she sent it towards one of the shields and like liquid, it melted around and encapsulated the shield. Smiling, Olive slowly pulled her hands closer together, and as she did, the bubble began to shrink in on the shield, tightening around it.


And because it was never the wrong time for Dean Martin, softly, beneath her breath, she sang... "Fortune's always hiding... I've looked everywhere. I'm forever blowing bubbles. Pretty bubbles in the air"

 

[DJ MagicHat]

Darkness. Ever-consuming, comforting darkeness.


"No, please..."


Shapes. Always the same shapes, shifting around, just out of sight, as though there was a dim light adding contrast to the black blanket.


The laughter...what...


Standing still...and yet, the wind rushing past seemed so real...


F͠O̡O̷͝L̨͜Í̶͞S͏H͝ H̷͘͟U̷M҉AǸ͞S,͜͜͞ ̴͘͝T͟H̸̛E̴̵̸R̶̴E͏̵ ̶͞I͢S ̡N̴͞OT̵̶̛H̨͡I͡N͠G͞ ̸͢Ý̶̕ƠU͘ ̷̕͘C̴̢A̵͜N D̕͟Ơ̸͘.͟


There were the sounds again. The voices.


"Please, come back...come back to me, baby..."


So many voices. So much concern. Why? Why all the concern? It was almost like this wasn't really a dream-


̴͇͓͖̘̤ͭ̓͒͐ ̲͚̰͖ͮͨ̍ ̷̷̴̟̲͙̯̫͉͔̭̓̑͌͐ͫ ̛ͦ̈̕ͅ ̧̮̩͚̩̦̻ͯ̄̽̓ͩ͂ͫ͂ ̸̵͕̟̼̹̥̙̲̠̊ͭ̋͛ͧ͊̆̚ ̹̳͔͑ͯ̂ͮ͗͟͜͞ͅ ̶͚̪̳̤̝̥̠̹̐ͦ̅ ̟͎̘̪̖̥͚͖̊̚͞ ̵̺͓̻̲͙̰̜͈ͤ́͗ ̷̨̖̩͔͍̯͌͋̅̈ͯ̒ ̶͉͓̤͙̦̊ͦ̆̄ ̶̤̗̲̳̣͈͈͊̾̀ ̡̪̠͔͔̖̰̙̰͚̎̾ͫ̀ ͎̱͉̤̠̟̥̞͐ͧ ̡̞̌́͡ ͐̐ͪ̑ͤ̓̈́͟͏̙̬̱̹́ ̱͕̳͓̰̬̲̻ͪ́̅ͣ͠ ͖͇̞̩̈̑ͪͨ̾̐͊ ̸̜͙̣͓̝̖ͪ͢ ͉͉͎͉̯̰̠̠̃͊̌͗̂͡ ͦͨ̒̑̿̀͠҉̤ ̃̓͋̽̈ͩͦ͜҉̝̭̫̹ ̖̘͎͕ͧ͢ ̸̢̤̱̰̊ͥ̐̐͌͗͝ ̸͉̖̳̞̻͉̞ͧ̓̀̚͜ ̨̅́̿͗҉̮͚͉̳̲̙ ̳͔͈͇ͫ́̾̎̕ ̢̮͎̮̪̭͔̪͉̏̓͋̓͆͐ͬ̊̏͢ ̌̂̈͊̿ͪ͗̐͋͏͏̞̰̬͚̮ ̜͇̱͚̳̞͈̝ͣͮ͠͝ ̙͙̰ͭͬͅ ̹͈̯̳̍͝ ̵̯̘̈̐̕ ̧̱͎̳͍͕͖̝̣͐ͮͤͩ̓̾͘ ̡̢̼ͮ͋̑ͧ̿ͅ ͭͩͨͣ̂͂͒҉̶̧͖͎̬ ̥̘̪̮̥̮̫ͧ̓ͫͮ̏ͧ͆̕ ̰̗̜͈̫̍́̒̂͡ͅ ̯̣̦̹̓̈̂͂̎͋̓̍͐́͘ ͍̜̒́̕ ̝̙͓͕̫͇̒ͮͫ̄̐͒̔̽͝ ͇͌͆͊̿̒̋̕̕͜ ̨͎ͭ͒̄̀ ̧̝̳̯͕̲̅̇̕ ͇̭̻̤̲̜̯͐͘ ͎̖̩͚̝͓̒͛̾ͫ͝ ͈̰̖̜̳̓ ̶̳̩͂ͣ̅ͧ͗͐ ̸̧̯̻̜̝̝̜̫̹̠ͪͩ͌ͥ͢ ̴͚̯̪̠͎̝̣̈ͅ ̲̺̺̮̝̱̘̂̂̉ͬ̐ͦ͌̾͞͡ ̥̩͕̉ͭ̆ ͓̣͓̫͙̝̘͑̓̅̏̚͠͝ ͕ͣ̅ͭ̈́͟ ̙̙̭̭̥̅̉͂̊ͩ͒̔̃ ̸͚̫̼̘̖̹̻͗́ ̭͉̇̀̃͠ ̵̦̞͙̙̄ͭ̈́ͦ̕ͅ ̴͓̎̉ͬ͒ ̙̬̃͆ͧͤ̾̿ͫͣ ̯̪̥̦̭͆͊ͩ͞ ̹̳̝͇̰̯̯̍̅̃̇̃̂ͮ̀͡ ̡̛̺̱̳̘̬̱̃̋ ̲͚͔ͭ̓ ̢̝̘͓̜̲͍̅̀ͩ͛̈̃̓̓͡ ̸̵̩͖̪͖̲̘͉ͥͤ͆ͯ͐ ̊̊̃̔̌̿͂̊͏̡͔̝̺̥̬̠̣͉ ̡͚̤̼̯͌̽͑͐̑̓ͣ̚͟


̛̫͈̹̹͖̱̺̜ͦ͆͒͗̚͢T̩̳͙̬͐̉́̂ͪ̓̀͋͢͜H̴͔̼̦͍͊̔ͩI̤̳̪͂̊ͯ͌̍̋̀͜S̃̇ͩ̈̽͞͏̢̣̝̹̩ ̴̛̫̞̠̬̦̙̹̙̄̒̔̀ͅV̸̺͇̠̻̮͕̺̲̝͒̊͒͂ͭͯ̿̈́̐͜E̯̺̺̙̾S̞̖̝̎̿̂̂́̒̍ͪ͆S̨̮͖̳̰͎̯̻̜̈̐ͫ̃̈́ͪ͢Eͥ͂̂҉̘̘̣̫̫̱̪̻L̸̛͙̫͔͎̯̯̗̽ͣͭ̍̅̐͡ ̗̲͚̹͕̺̅̎̓ͨ̚͡B̢̗͈ͫ͌̀̆̇̏͢E̢̲̱̳̹͌͋ͫ̾̋͆̏̔̎L̽ͬ̍̈́̓̒͊̓҉͚̣̤̪̼͙O͔̹̹͕̗̩̍̀ͬ̓̈́ͬṈ̳̥͋̑̎̓ͬ̇Ģ͕͎͚̹̦̼̞͇̏̑͂S͌̾̔̉́̅ͣͪ̑̕҉̲̭͎͉ ̢̟̲̠̬̉̆̽̿͢T͔̞̹̋͗ͮ̒͆̾͒̊͢O͓̦̜̤͕̪̙͈͆̈͛́ ̨̪̫̱͍̱ͯͦM͔͓̖̫̺̳̟̩ͨͮEͦ͏̝͙̬,̼̗̥̭͓ͥ͊̈́̔̕ ̸̋͋ͯ͂̎҉̛̼̝̖N̫̪̹̖̻͐̈́ͦ̂ͥ̈́̉Ȍ̼̖̌̔̓̓͑̒͡W̫̞̘̲̟ͬ̽̓ͨ̊̚͞͠ͅ.̫͛̂̋͡


̵̺̭̳͚̤͎͇̣̊͑̑͛ ̸̸̢̠̳̖͙̞̦̰͉̃̿ͅ ̳̙̩̥̎ ̵̵̧̞̝̺͔͒̈́ ͔̠͙̟̈́̃̾̾̑̍ ̗̗͎͋͐͜ ̵̘͉̘̗̺ͧ͠ ̷͉̼̰̼̝͔̺̼ͩ͌̆̿̇̌ͬͮ͜ ̛͈͔͙̙̦͇ͬ̿̐͝ ̘̜̩̌ͮ̃̊ͧͪ͂ͩ͘͝ ̱̻̗͕͈ͦ̌ͅ ͊̌͐̈̏̈́̔̈́͗́҉̛̭̫̪̹͚ ̧̤̗̭̌̊̐ͭ̔̈́͜ ̢̧̰̳͙̮̔̾̃̆ͣ̔͗̓́̚ ̻͍̯̩̈̿ ̧̭̫̱̻̫̻̹̬̅͊̔̽̀̂ͅ ͧ͊ͦͫ̈͢͏̧̻̞͓͈̣ ͇͇̲͔͚̺̬̞ͭ̑̕̕͝ ̟͎̞̠͎ͮ̓͟͞ ̴͖̥̗̟͔͎̯͓ͤ̐̾̈́ͧ͒̇ͨ ̡͍̤̯̟̼͕̦ͫ̔̅̊̈ ̝̫̝͎͍͖̣͉̇̄ͪ ̮͍̦͙̼̜̣̽ͨ̎̚ ̸͈͑̂͂̆̃̑ ̵̤̗̺̠̗̯͗ͣ͐͗͋̅̄ͧ͡ ̵̤̼̫̰̱̟͍̙͔̌̋ͯ͊ͨ͗̌̇̊ ̟͎̠̣̣͐ͭ͟ ̛͍͇͔͂̕ ̟̠̥̘̘͕̤̌̔͆͛̌́̇͡ ͕̝̹̦͕̺͉͗̐̈́̓ͩͫ̓͊͜͢ ̶̳̃̏̓ͨ́ ̴ͥ̌̈ͥ͏̞̠͓̣̖ͅ ̷̨̢͖̦̩̭̠̭͈͒̆̌̚ͅ ̭̼̺̇̈͂̌̓̈̂̇́̕ ̨̙̫̙͆̓̈́̈́ͪͫ̃́̑͞͠ ̢̣̜͍̹̤͉͕ͩ̑̈́ ̷̶̼̙̝͚̖͚̟͎̌͋̕ ̴̲̹͚̱̝͈̟͙̝̓̓̐̄͂͌̉͢ ͣ͛̓̓̑͒҉̥ ͍̫̤̎̽́͒͌̋̒̕ ̡ͤ̽̌͋́͏̥͍̠͍̣͖̠ͅ ̢̳̺̺̩̔̔ͦͅ ̞̟͇̟͕͋͂̆̅ͅ ̸̛͈̻̦̣̝̫̐̇̑ͭ ̤̦͙̖͊͆̃̽̔̀́̚ ̛͋ͤ͊ͥ͆͂ͭ͊͏̞̺̯̣͕̫͎ ͉͉̞̩̯̦̜̱͐̄̍̍̅ͬͬ̈́̚͝͝ ͪ̂̌͛́͏̜͚͠ ̷̡̗̗͕̲̑͂ͅ ̥̼̫̣̭̦̞̜̑́̀̌ͥ͡ ̷̢͍̟̯̟̦̝̰̊̒͋̐ͧ̽ͫ̕ ̦͈̹̉ͮͩ̑ ̵͕͔͔̗͚̲̽͞ͅ ̷ͧ̉̀҉̖̖͕͖̳͕̗ ̷̧͓̈ͤ̓̂̆̐ ̿͛ͣͪ͑͛̅͏̗̙͉̲̯̫̹ ͕̘̟͚̘̗͉͊̂̅ ̺̰͇̽͊ ̢͖̝͇̖͋͑͘ ͍̦͔̯̾͐ ̖̞͇̟͔̯̋͑ͧͨͦ̈ͦ̋͢ ̢͍̟̋͒͛͗ͬ͛ͯ ̷̹͓̦͉͖̤̀͒ ̴̨̖͉͉̬̰̘̪̟͗̎ ̸̡̬͉̣͖͈̠͒̇́ͥ͌͘ ̶̨̘̣̼̠͎̠̱̜̜̄ͤ ̵̣ͨ̂͠ ̛̫̘̂ͦ̚̚͡ ̇̏ͮ̅͗͢҉̳̩̘͉͡ͅ


The shapes were moving faster now, almost like they were panicked.


"Please, son, wake up! Wake up!!!"


Wake up...? How was-


ͪ͛̓̆̏͗ͯ̔͒̂ͦ̍̏ͣ͏̴̛̠͓̠̪͓̩̲͓͜͝ ̛̥͖͔̦͕̮͕̗̙ͦ̄ͧ͊͆̍͊͂̔ ̆ͨ̔̔͏̷̷̳͔̫̪̬͖͈ ̸̹̳̭͕̼ͯ͐ͮͨ́ͥ̀́̕͞ ̡̞̦͎̬͕̟͕̞̹̈̑̓̑̊̈́ͪ̇̀͊ͩͤ̂͋͛̀̇̌̚͝ͅ ̷̷̊̎̅͂͋̉͋ͤͮ̄͑ͨ̽͘͏̛̫̻̣͇͖͉̹͔̼̜̗̳̝̗̝͙̤̥͖ ̸̷̧̫̥͖̻̤̦̠͉͎̬ͯ̎̂ͤ̆̎̇̏̐̈́̒͆̒̌̓ͤͅ ̓̇̍͗̅̄̾̒̒ͪ̈́̄̑͒͘͢͏̭̼̭̟̗͎̭͚̙̤̪͓͡͠ͅ ̵͔̼͉̣̞͕̘̥̈ͭͭ̀̕ ̦͓̬͎̰̥̟̖̦͖̤ͧ̆̽̒͗ͭ̀̿́̊ͦ̎ͦͯ̾͘͘͟ͅͅ ̶̶̨̧̣̻͕̱̩̮̙̗̿͒ͯ͊̏͊̐̆̍̂̓ͧ͒͞ ̸̼̲͙̫͚̅̇ͫͭ͑̌͐ͣ̐ͭ͛̈ͮͯͯ͢ ̸̴̼͎̮͓̬̟̰̞̞̓̾̽̐ͫ̑ͤ̂̈̊ͥ̃ͧ̊̐͒͊̓̆͡͠ ̸̮̮͍̦̯̟ͪ̂͆̏ͦͣ̎͒̈ͮ͛ͥͥͮͧ͟ ̡̭̪̹͕̠̠̲̣̭̱͕͍̖̦̻̯̼ͭ͋ͩ͘ ̸̡̩̙̩̖̞̬̫̜̫̞̩ͨ͐͛͗͑͒̆͠͝ ̷͕̼̟̟͇͔͋ͧ̏͒ͨ̓̿̾ͫͧͣ̂͆̏̌ͬ̈̚̚͘͟ ͖̰͉͎̣̝̘̪̝͉̗ͩ̏̅ͧͭ̄́͘ ̷̸̨̨̡̰̣̞͎̞̮̲̯̤̖ͣͫ̑ͤ̔͌̈̋̇͆ͫͩͯ̉ͅ ͧ̒̔̍̄͆͂ͫ̔͑҉̡̥͕̻͕̘͚̞̻͙̱͈̖̖̩͓̯́ ̸̶̶̼͚̹͚͕͎̘̱̱̭ͣͨ͐ͩ̂̒ͩ̋̾̓ ͆̈́͑ͦ̉͒ͣ̄ͪ̌̔ͦ҉̷̟̤̭̯̺̣̗͎̬̤̟̹͖̮͢͠͡ ̗̙̜͇͔̳̖̥̎̌̍͜͟ͅ ̅͊ͤ́ͭͩ͐̌̓̎ͬ̒͋ͣ̇̀̚̕͟҉͉̯̙̝̣̝̲̮ͅ ͭ̉ͪ̎̐ͬ̓̾̎͆ͦ̽͑́̽́͐͆̐̕҉̢͓̳̩̹̘̕͠ ̧̍̈̈́̎̍̐͂̅̚҉͇̥̩̳̺̦̥̮͍͇͈̖͔̝̱͖̜ ̛͚̹̖̺̜̻̣̞̲̮̾͒ͨͦ͘͠ ̸̢̺̟͕͉̥̮̇̎̒ͬ͋͌ͯ͊̔ͭ͐ͨ̚ ̧̧̺͚̜͈̲͔̈̈́͊̿̎̄͂ͥ͑̓͗ͤ̏̽̒̍̚͟͠͝ ͒͑ͩͦ̿͏̶̡̥͖͈̫͘ ̶̼̳̙̲͖̜̦͇͂̎̌̂ͤ͆̃̋ͮ͊̽ͩ̿ͮ̚͠ ̡̨̢̫̭̫̻̻̹̰̞͎͕̝̦͇̼̖ͮ͋ͭ̈́͂̽̎́͊͆͠͞ ̷̡̧̭̼̟̤̤̻̗͕̣̳̠͈̪̮̠̫̝̬̽̊̏͑ͤ̄̔̋́͂̏͘ ̄ͯ͆͊͑ͩ̔҉̡̫̯̟̯̘̻̺̗̺̕͡


Ṱ̡͈̠̘̮̼̻͕͈̰̟̆̍̉́ͧ̈͒̅͊ͩ̉ͫ̿́̌̓́̀̀ͅH̨͔̼̙̟̠̩͖͔̰̩̹̉̌̆̓̉̄͗̒ͧͦ̃E̩̗̜͖͉͎͕̥̗͍̔ͫ͌͆̄̓̈́̿ͥ̒̎́ͫ̾̚͟͞ ̡̱͍͓͚̖̯̞͖̞̳̭̜̖̒ͬ̌̀͟͜ͅͅBͪ̀̒ͯͣ͒ͦ̑̑͂ͬ̐ͣ̚͏̨̯̥͍̣̙͓̠͕͖̮̖̝͕͠͠O̧̓́͌͆ͬͧ̈́̍̆ͯ́ͫ̅̊̔ͫͭ͟͢͏͕͕̠̜̦͍̤̺͢Y̏̔̿͗͒̈́̔̇ͨ̀̕͜͝͏̲̮͍͚ ̶̴̭̘̥̻́ͦ̑̈́͗̉ͬͧ͒ͨ̒͗͌ͦ͡Į̸̷̭̣̼̖̻͍̠̿ͫͨͮ̽̀̕͢Sͨ̐ͣ͐̄̓̽ͪ̿ͥ͑̄̉̽̅ͦ͐̎҉̴̢̟̙͔̱̻͕͜͞ ̀ͬ̐̊̾̒̆͏̶̴̩̹̦̝͈͈̮̪̞͎̲͉̫ͅͅM̍͑̒͒ͣ͐̅̄ͬ̓͛̑͏̧̧͕̫̬͎̘̱̻̖̥̱͙̜̗͍͟͝ͅḬ̴̷̶̵͚̺̪̰̞̩̗͇͉̏ͮ͆̑Ñ̴̶͈̰̳̱̜͇̞̫ͨ̌̽ͧ͂E̵̷̵̗͚̰̥̞̯͚͎̺̯̮̱͇ͥͭ̓͗ͫ͗͒͋̑̅͐̆̽̿͂̐̚.̸̡̢̤̦̫̮̠͚̗̹̝̝͉ͦͯ̊̀̇̒̃ͪ̈̎̽ͪ̋͌͆̿ͧ̌̐́͜


̵̴̇̿̐ͮͨ́҉̹͚͚̦ͅ ̷͉̣͇͍̄ͯ͂̌ͧ̎͐̈́̃ͣͦ̏͟͠͡ ͓̳͓̹ͧ̃ͯ̓͋ͯͣ̕͢͡ ̷ͤ͛͐ͬ̏̏ͥͨ̓͐͛̚͡͏̴̛͎̜̮̞͉̲̞͍̦̝͈̙͓ ̵̵̖̳̦͖̲̗̬̻̳͑͐ͩ̈́͛̔͒̒͂͋̎̔ ̢̣̼̼̺̖̑͗ͣͭ̂ͭͮ̍̎̾̃̈ͬ͗ͭ̚͠ ̶̢̛̦̣̠̣̼̈́̒̏͌̄͠ ͧ̂͆̂ͪͮ̂ͤ̇̄ͫͫ̑̅̏ͩ̆́͠͏̪̺͍̪͉̙̘̹͜ ̴̰̟̪̦̯͍̼̠̯̪̆͆̔͐͌̇ͯ̈́͟ ̓ͭ̑̇ͪͦ́ͣ̋ͫ̚͠҉̵̷̤̫͈̠̗̭̣̦͓̥͚͕̮͖̼͘ ̸̷̴̨̩͖̟͍̦̳̲̣̟̻̪̜̳ͧͥ̍̔͗͂̇͛́̍̚ ̶̨̥͕̣̭̼͕͛̉͑̀͌͊̑̓͛́͜͞ͅ ̡̛̬̩̖͇̩̮̠͍̪̞͖͓̠̩̳̦͖̽̽͆̍̅͑͊ͣͬ̂͗̿ͪ́͟͜ ̥͎̫͕̬͎̬͍͖͇͓͓̤̯͓̘̰̱ͥ͗͒ͮͦ̾̊̐͐ͮ͘ ̀̊̈̄͏͏͏͇͍̪̞̬͎͉̳̳͙͈̼ ̴̛͔̹͓͖̫̳͍͕̺͉̹͑̓̅ͩ̔̈́ͤ̏̀̾̈̈́́̀͟ ̷͉̺̣͉̥͓̪͕͙̯̟͍̭̟̥͈̯̐͑ͫ̄̃͆͂̓̚͟͞ͅ ̴̨̃̽̊͂͆͊̋̍̎̿̅̊̉ͯ̀ͦ̉̅͠҉̮̘̠ ̸̢͔͚̩͍͓̦̭̜͈̠̫̤͔ͣ̈́͑ͭͯͣ̾̑ͪ̏̆͋̂͑͗̇́͞ ̋̋̈́̒́ͬͥ̾ͮͤ͂͏̶̵̴̫͕͕͎̺̜̳̜̜͜ ̸̌̒̿̿͋͛͏̶̘͖̼̜̱̰̼̳̲͕̰̺̬̘̜͔̫ ̵ͣͧ͐̆ͣͩ͋ͣ̽͑̔ͨ̿ͥ̅ͥ̂͐ͥ͏̺̼͇̲̟͙̣͖̻̙̱̺̰̕͡ͅ ̧̛͐ͮ̒ͪ̓̂ͤ̌́́͏̮̟̭̬͇̠͚͓͎̥̗͉̫̪͕̥ ̵̢̖͔̩̦̹̖̼̪͈̬̦̩ͮ̎̔͂̔͑̍̔̃̾̏̓̇͗̒͌̓̚̚͞͞ ̨̬̰̱̳̗̜̞͓̮̞̠̘͖͖̪̓̽͗̓̍̂̎̔͌̓͛̅ͨ̂̀͘͡ ̴̵̬͍͎̰̗̙̦̻̮̮͙̬̜͎͉̪̗ͥͦ̆̽̑ͦ̓̍͋͂̈̀̕ͅ ̧̛͕̮͙̻͖̲̻̯̙̟̋ͩ͌́ͅ ̛̖͈̤̳̲͎̻̭͍̘̝͇̝̟̤͙̼͕͇ͤ͑̋ͥ̔͐ͫ̑̃ͣ̚͞ ̧̨̙͓̣̬̪̰͉̌ͦ̋ͧͫ̏̉̑͂̕͡ ̷̟͙̺̝͔͎͔͍͇̜͖͋̓ͥ̈́́̕ ̛͖̰̹͚̰̞̹͖̤͈̘̖͗̏ͣ́͌ͭ̈́ͧ̾́͡ ̸̵̝̼͚̗̲̮̊͋ͮͧͫ̽ͤͨ͝͞ ̡̛̮͓̠̘̹̼̰̯͙̺̳͕̙̼̲̫̯͖̑̿̂̀̋̅͑̐̀ͥ͆̏̇͗ͣͭ̓ͮ͑ ̵̷̢̭͈͕̹̌̇͆ͬ̀̿̇ͧͬͧͭͪ̋̏ͫ̒͡͝


Xavier's eyes snapped open.


He was lying on his back in the middle of a wide, open field. He stayed like that for a while, trying to straighten things out in his head. He hadn't had that "dream" for years, and all of a sudden a few weeks back it had started up again, occurring more and more often until it was a nightly occurrence. It became especially vivid whenever he Dreamed, and came here. It was like a dark velvet curtain, crafted from the remnants of a crumbling asylum, that he was pushed through every time he went to sleep, but waking up only put him in...this place, where he had to get as crafty as ever to be left alone.


He sat up, and got his bearings. This field was lush with greenery; that was different. He usually showed up in some kind of blasted wasteland, here. He looked to one side, recognized what was nearby, and groaned to himself.


Oh, God...it's orientation day.


He checked his coat. Yes, his typical armament was still there. It always was. In one swift motion, he got to his feet, and with quick, long strides he found himself at the Sentinel's garden fairly quickly.


There she was, coaching a bunch of other dreamers or some such nonsense. She had asked him to join them, as well - he had ignored her once again, and was sticking to the shadows around the newbies. Watching them, biding his time, wondering which "job" would call him into action first.


And praying to whatever deity might be listening that he'd beat them both to the punch, before anyone tried to corner him.

 

[Lady Warlock]

Jocelyn Vontair

Location: Sentinel’s Sanctuary, Etherea

Jocelyn’s entire body scrunched up as she jumped backwards as a severed head rolled closer and closer towards her, some of the blood from its neck splattering onto her robe because she didn’t back away quite fast enough. To some standing near her, it may have looked like the blood was the reason why she had flinched in the first place, but in all reality, it wasn’t. Blood was something she saw on a daily basis and actually some days it was even more frequently depending on how many patients she had.


The problem was the simple fact that there was a dismembered head lying only inches away from her and as its eyes stared back at her, Jocelyn couldn’t help but examine the bone that remained, sticking out of the flesh. The break wasn’t clean; actually, it was unlike anything she had ever seen. And that was saying a lot. “Why?” It was the question that just naturally came, and she could see no reason to stop it. For a moment, her eyes stared at the girl who had thrown it. Her expression was one of both anger and confusion combined, with some slight disgust sprinkled in.


What is going on here? Jocelyn couldn’t help but wonder as she looked at all of the others around her. Some of them had already taken up the task that had been given to them - the task of breaking a shield although she didn’t understand what purpose such a thing might serve.


Jocelyn took a moment to sort through what she knew. Firstly, she was not at home. Her home was plain, boring, simple. This place was the opposite. All the colors of the garden tried to scream that it was spring although that was not precisely the reality of the situation. Second, from everything she could see, she did not know anyone who was there. Half of her mind expected to see Lacey running through a patch of flowers; this place looked much more like something that her foster daughter would have been dreaming about than anything she could reasonably explain herself. Thirdly, there was a woman called the Sentinel. Jocelyn didn’t want to go so far as to say that it was the woman’s name because she didn’t see how such a thing would make sense, but it seemed an apt title nonetheless.


She wanted to ask more questions, to try and figure out what was really gone and why she was having this… this dream. Dream… is this a dream? Looking around, Jocelyn really tried to put the pieces together and she decided that, yes, a dream was probably the best way to describe it. Realizing that, a few things made more sense. Etherea… that must be this place, this dream place. Does that mean everyone else here is a dream? Or… The only other option was that it was a shared dream, and Jocelyn wasn’t quite ready to believe something like that, not quite yet.


Jocelyn tried to look at the The Sentinel again, meaning to ask more questions, but the figure standing next to her kept drawing her attention back to the head that was lying in front of her and that only made the situation worse. What else is there to do? She really wanted to ask questions, to get a better grasp of what was really going on and why her dream felt so real now of all times, but asking questions just brought her back to disturbing things.


Looking around, she saw once more that some of the beings - she wouldn’t really call all of them people, in all honesty - were attacking the shields like they had initially been told to do. Sighing, she decided that it was probably her best option although she wasn’t overly fond of the idea. What do I even attack with?


Jocelyn looked down at herself, flipping around the black robe that covered an honestly simple outfit - something she was surprised she still had since nothing else in this dream seemed to be at all similar to her. And underneath the robe, there was a sheathe to a weapon she had never had before. It was a knife; it wasn’t something Jocelyn had ever thought of as overly powerful, and she certainly didn’t see how she was supposed to use it to crack a shield. However, it was all she had. Therefore, it would have to do.


You can do it, Mommy! she imagined Lacey’s voice as she charged at the shield nearest to her. However, even a thought of Lacey could not eliminate her clumsiness and as Jocelyn charged, she tripped - not over her own two feet, but over the head of the terror… the head only inches from her feet. And she landed face first in front of both the Sentinel and Chloe. She was actually quite lucky she didn’t stab herself with the knife in her hand in the process.

 

[Giyari]

Mood: - Amused


Location: - The Sanctuary


Company: - Weiss, Lynch, others


@'s: - @Zahzi, @DaughterofAthena


Other: - Kezia's an asshole, she also doesn't care.

The Blood Knight - Kezia Silverston


It had been a long night down town, and Kezia was surprised her workplace was still standing after the uncountable number of drunken revellers had been and gone. More importantly though she was now home, and ready to kick ass on a whole other level. Snuggling into her covers a little tighter, Kezia felt herself drift off and fade from her body, she didn't need it for now, she had better places to be, places where she was more than herself.


A rush or wind built slowly around her, catching her hair, before she found herself fading into existence. It was an odd feeling, the feeling of coming alive so to speak, one Kezia had never quite gotten the hang of in her mind. As her skin harden and toughened into her tell tale silver and green ,carapace like, armour, Kezia willed herself into the world of Etheria proper, her feet clinking lightly on the cobbled ground of Sentinel's garden while she walked out of the ether into "reality". With a crick of her neck and a roll of her shoulders, Kezia quietly took her place amongst the other knights watching the initiations.


Every movement from her resulted in a light crumbling on the edges of her now armour plated body. Finding herself next to the Iron Knight and a certain nosey "crow", Kezia felt herself grinning, well as much as her mouthless face would let her "smile"


"Bit small, but least a knife's better than an umbrella eh, blowtorch?" She laughed quietly from just behind Weiss, casually making a jest at his sort of "blacksmithy" theme. Of course she only half meant her words, weapon forms were incredibly inconsistent in Etheria, one could easily beat a swordsman with a balloon animal if you believed in your air filled giraffe's abilities enough. The cool factor did tend to help though, it's easier to believe cool will be more useful than weird.


"But seriously, have I missed anything good, boys?" Kezia added from behind her mask-like face plate, it's four silver, unblinking, eyes scanning her surroundings. Kez didn't really expect an answer from them both, maybe a gruff remark or two from the equally faceless Weiss about how annoying she was, or to piss off out of his space. Maybe a disapproving comment from the crow about the proceedings or her lack of showing face in the Abyss lately, but nothing actually useful. If anything he was slightly surprised they had both decided to attend this in the first place.


Taking a step forwards as the knife wielding woman took her shot, Kez watched excitedly. Initiations were fun, the new blood was one thing, but more initiations meant that Etheria's problem at hand was getting worse, and that meant it was also going to get more fun...


"Give it hell!" Kezia yelled loudly as the knife woman ran for the target, and promptly wasted her chance entirely with a face full of dirt.


"Actually... My money's on Mary Poppins, haha!" Kez laughed aloud, perhaps a little too loudly, but what did he care, she wasn't really here to make friends, Kezia was here to fight and to enjoy herself. A facepalm moment if ever there was one. It's one thing to luck out with a knife weapon, but it was another thing entirely to trip over the head... of a terror? Taking another look over the initiates Kezia caught sight of Chloé, the Desidiab Knight, with some blood droplets staining her limbs, standing closer to the newbies than most of the other knights. Mystery solved.

 

[welian]

Oh.


How lovely.


The Sentinel kept a stiff, passive smile on her face as chaos slowly began to unfurl in her domain. Every single time she recruited new Knights… Every single fucking time. She sighed softly, and hoped that the King of Nightmares was not around, otherwise his mere existence would distract everyone and completely derail the indoctrination ceremony.


She watched as the first Knight stepped up, a lovely young woman with a parasol. An uncommon weapon, for sure. And she made such spirited strikes! Some cracks were made, but the shield did not yield.


The second Knight was also a young woman, someone that the Sentinel had been tracking for some time. This one had been taking it upon themselves to pick fights with some resident nightmares. Her initiative was admirable, and she seemed to have a grasp of her powers. But she did not endeavor to break one of the shields.


And then it happened. The tension slowly building up came to a release, as the Desidiab Knight made her entrance. The severed head of a Terror was thrown into the courtyard, leaving an oozy trail of monster blood across the grass and blossoms.


“Desidiab.” Her voice was stern. “Pick that up and dispose of it properly.”


The third Knight, a third woman – the Sentinel sorely needed more girls on the team, she had realized some time ago – seemed quite joyful and at-ease, and wholly unconcerned with the monstrous head that a certain someone had deposited in everyone’s midst. Bubbles were summoned, and the Sentinel nodded approvingly. A woman after her own heart. The shield stood strong, though.


The fourth Knight (another woman, who would have thought?) definitely noticed the head, but did not appear to react strongly… until the poor woman tripped over it, on her way to slash down the shield with a knife.


The Sentinel gave the Desidiab Knight a withering glare, as she bent down and silently offered a hand to Jocelyn.


“None of you were able to break the shields, and that’s quite alright. Keep trying. Learn how to use your weapon, and find your inner power. Then, when you are able to fight, you be Knighted.”


She looked around, at the other Knights watching. She saw the Iron Knight, and a crow perched on his shoulder, and her eyes glinted blood-red for a mere moment.


“Perhaps a more senior warrior would be willing to volunteer for a more hands-on demonstration of these latent powers?”

 

[Mordecai]

NPC: The Discovery
Primary Tags: @Elle Joyner, @Everyone​

Galloping on all fours, yet somehow as swift as a rabbit, the young boy, his face looking to be of about ten years, streaked through the crowd. He came out of nowhere, it would seem, or perhaps the hazy puff of steam off to the far side of the gardens that curled up to the skies, just where the flowers and the grasses seemed to be growing a little wild, had been part of his entrance. Who knew, for one moment, he wasn't there, and the next he was, his knees smacking against the grass and dirt, his hands ripping chunks of the Earth from the ground as he galloped. The young boy paused once, his body quivering with breaths he shakily inhaled, though it seemed as though his face never truly came into focus at all, even when he was paused and entirely still. The rest of him though was as sleek as a jungle cat: his tan skin gleaming with sweat as his muscles clenched, tribal tattoos in bright , cherry reds and indigo blues stretching and shrinking as his chest rose and fell. He was naked, mostly, save for the small ribbon of coarse, brown cloth that hung from his narrow hips and tucked around his front and backside, hiding away his most private of places, but leaving his sinewy thighs and chest exposed.


Still poised on the edges of the garden, he surveyed the recruits with blurred eyes, his lips suckling in against his teeth as he elicited a hiss. No one seemed to be paying him much mind... good. Again, he broke into a quick gallop on all fours, his hands and bare feet beating violently on the ground as he propelled himself forward, looking up to the Dreams-- new and old. Some looked familiar and he couldn't help but feel his nose crinkle in distaste for them, but then there new ones. Most looked uninteresting-- dull, bland. Boring in every sense of the words. And then, there was the one. She had the prettiest red hair he had ever seen and, subconscious, he paused a moment and lifted a little hand to one of the marks on his shoulder, a tattoo of equally fierce redness.


Looking to impress the young lady (who hadn't faired very well against the shield, he had to admit), The Discovery broke into a loping gait, his keen eyes meeting one of the Sentinel's shields. He had seen them many times before but had never encountered one so closely before, but he was drawn to it... all in the name of the pretty, red-haired lass. His gait slowed and he picked his arms up off the ground until he was standing up right. He had no weapons for he had never fought a battle. He had never fought a battle because no one bothered the Patron Dreams... and when they did, The Discovery prided himself on being much too quick for anyone else.


It was a simple motion, a curious one, in fact. He reached out, his fingernails scraping against the black ouroboros licked with gold and it exploded upon impact.


The shield burst with a POP! and rained confetti down upon the people (if one could call them that) in the courtyard gardens. Screaming in fear out of the noise (as any ten year old boy would have done), The Discovery scurried away from the shield that exploded into a million colourful tiny strips, promptly tangling himself in the legs of the pretty, red haired lady.


"Hello, lass! You're awful pretty! I didn' all that! Just for you," he mustered and, upon realizing the absurdity of the way he cowered behind her legs, promptly got back to his own two feet, brushed himself off, and flexed a wiry little arm for her to show her how impressive his arm muscles were (they weren't).

 

[Liberty Penn]

Location:


The Sanctuary


Mood:


Playful/entertained


Tags:


@everyone @Writer

Dio - The Pyrite Knight

​

Dio lounged from the shoulder of the statue, watching the new recruits try their best at breaking the shields. He gave a curious look at the girl with the umbrella wielding it like a bat, and looked on in laughter filled awe as the four-legged knight dropped the head of the terror in front of the group. The rest of the attempts were just as unsuccessful as the one with the umbrella, until with a shower of confetti a shield was down in a blur of movement. The blur stopped in front of a red haired girl, saying a few words. It was the Discovery.


Dio had heard of this being a few times. He was fast and powerful, and Dio had always wanted a chance to go toe to toe with him. Today appeared to be that day.


Remembering his attempt at the shields back in the day, it had taken a few swings but it eventually fell. By now I’m way more powerful than then. It shouldn’t take more than a single swing to take this thing down, he thought.


Mirroring the Discovery, he jumped down right in front of the girl with the umbrella and shouted, “Hey, Blurface. That aint all that impressive!” giving a wink to umbrella girl and bringing his staff up, “Watch this!” Holding his staff over his head he released the illusion and showed its true form- a shiny and smooth spear glowed in his hands. Dio cradled the elegant spear and launched it at the right shield.


It flew through the air and with a loud crack, impacted with the shield.


Much to Dio’s surprise, he found the spear flying straight back at him! With the speed that it was moving, he could only do one thing: duck.


After the momentary surprise, Dio whipped back around to grab his weapon, only to find it buried in the chest of the girl with the umbrella.


“Oh. My bad.”

 

[Kharmin]

<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_01/DMC_closecrop.jpg.09e4ffb6be5ac3106e0a66fca0a79551.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="96586" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2016_01/DMC_closecrop.jpg.09e4ffb6be5ac3106e0a66fca0a79551.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p> Danielle - Sentinel's Garden


It was almost too much: the Sentinel, knights, tests, decapitated nightmare head and so on. Danielle's brow furrowed as she tried to make sense of the chaos. If this is what it meant to be part of ... whatever it was that the Sentinel was offering, then she wasn't entirely sure that she wouldn't be better off on her own. Still, Dani was here now, so she might as well play nice with the rest of the kids in the sandbox.


With a sigh, Danielle blew some loose strands of hair from her eyes. She hefted her obsidian great sword over her shoulder and unceremoniously walked up to one of the test shields. With feigned interest, she walked a slow circle around the object to view it from all angles before returning to stop in front of it. It was obvious, again, to her that strength was not the key to passing the test; rather, it was the candidates resolve or will to perform the feat that would achieve success.


Danielle reached out and placed her off-hand flat on the surface of the shield. The ivory color belied the rough texture of the object. It felt more porous, like sandstone. Dani gave the shield a slight push and was not surprised to find that it didn't move. Get on with it, she silently chided herself. We have more work to do tonight and we've wasted enough time already.


She stepped back a pace and effortlessly brought the great sword around in front of her. She placed the tip of the blade against the shield, wrapped her off-hand around the hilt and placed her other palm flat on the pommel. Instead of trying a huge swing of her sword, Danielle opted for the more sensible option: will power.


Danielle focused on where the tip clung against the shield and cleared her mind and concern of all of those who may be watching her. She shifted her stance and reset her balance, then with her mind set to the task, she pushed the obsidian sword into the shield.


For a few heartbeats nothing happened. The shield neither broke, cracked nor moved. Danielle shook her head, re-focused her concentration and tried again but the outcome was the same. Nothing.


She stepped back and lowered her sword. Dani had slain dozens of nightmares since her brother's death, probably because she had been full of resolve to do so. In this matter, the test, Danielle hadn't really cared at the onset. The result had been pre-ordained as she really didn't have her heart in proving anything to anyone.


With a shrug and a wry smirk tossed toward the Sentinel, Danielle turned away from the shield and walked back to the group where she returned to her casual pose, leaning on her sword.

 

[Zahzi]

Ash Weiss


Location: Sentinel's Garden


Around: Insufferable Crow; Thermometer Reject.


Anderson.


D/C: 35/100


@: @Giyari @DJ MagicHat


Weiss continued staring forward as the Knight of Mercury addressed him in her usual fashion. He tended not to bother responding to her antics nowadays. It just seemed to encourage her behavior. While ignoring it just made his blood boil, sure, he had another idea for this occasion. Incidentally, it was at this moment that he witnessed the snake shoot he and the crow a death glare. For what, no one could really guess. Some unfair, baseless dislike of them surely.





"It would appear she has noticed our presence." Lynch droned, looking down at the Sentinel, the crow's head tilting.


"I think she might still be angry about your last exploit." the crow looked back at Weiss, the tone more callous than anything else.


"With what she's let happen, a torched garden is a slap on the wrist." Weiss growled, walking away from his spot at the railing.


"Weiss, what are you doing now?" the crow left its perch, flapping its wings and ascending above the Iron Knight.


"Just helping." he replied, standing directly behind Kezia before lifting his leg and aiming for the small of her back and throwing a kick to send her off the balcony.


Lynch gave a tired sigh, flying off without seeing if the kick even connected. He had other people to talk to here. And Kezia, while on that list, would be more preoccupied anyway. Soaring through the air, he looked down at the group before him, some he would need to talk to in the future. The Malachite Knight for sure. He seemed....Familiar. Not directly, no. More in the sense of a similar taste to an old, long dead dreamer had...


...


But that would come later, as one of the new recruits seemed to forget how to use their weapon properly, ending up learning what impalement was...Lynch missed the days when the Dreamers knew how to use their weapons properly on their first sessions....Ah, the medieval era...


Eventually, he perched himself on the shoulder of someone who was trying to hide. Sure, their methods were accurate, but trying to hide in shadow from the King of Nightmares was hardly bound to work...Especially in this kind of environment.


"Some advice..." the crow turned to the figure, looking them up and down.


"This kind of skulking is only going to get you noticed faster."

 

[Lady Warlock]

Jocelyn Vontair

Location: Sentinel’s Sanctuary, Etherea


As Jocelyn’s mouth flooded with the dirt contained within the ground, she realized that she had heard something - a comment that she may not have been meant to hear at all although she wasn’t quite sure. It began with a laugh; that much could not simply be ignored. Her brow furrowed in frustration as she lifted her head, her eyes turning to something of a scolding glare that looked entirely out of place. It looked like it was meant for a child when as far as she had noted, there were no children present. It was really the only glare she had for the given situation though, seeing as nothing made sense.


“Oh, I will give it hell,” she retorted, a small amount of sass slipping through a normally composed persona as she took the hand that The Sentinel had offered her. She was back on her feet and as she brushed herself off, Jocelyn paid absolutely no attention to the blood that now stained her robe. That, at least, was something she was more than used to.


Her eyes watched the conversation between the Sentinel and the woman who had thrown the head in the first place for a moment. Dispose of it properly… this doesn’t seem like the place to have a morgue and even then, wouldn’t the rest of the body be required? Once she thought about it though, she realized she had never actually dealt with a patient with a severed head before. Regardless, the unspoken question remained on her eyes as she considered what the Sentinel had said.


Learn how to use your weapon and find your inner power.


Jocelyn’s eyes turned to the knife in her hand. It wasn’t a tool that she was entirely used to wielding; in fact, she was more accustomed to even smaller tools. Jocelyn altered her grip on the weapon several times, trying to find one that the most comfortable which took several tries before she finally settled on something that looked right. Then her eyes finally returned to the shield.


[dice]17904[/dice]Kicking the severed head out of the way so that she wouldn’t trip over it yet again which consequently sent it flying towards the person who had thrown it in the first place. Only after that did Jocelyn resume her charge, driving her knife at the shield as a loud CLANK! rang throughout the area. Jumping back, she assessed the damage. It wasn’t broken, but she had done something.


Surveying the rest of the shields, Jocelyn was curious to see what the other levels of success had been. It was then that her eyes fell on a shield that was fully shattered by a… a boy? Her eyes dwelled on him for a moment, bewildered. How… how did he do that? There were too many questions for her to be happy at the moment so finally, she returned her gaze to the Sentinel. “What is the purpose of destroying the shield? Is it a test of strength?”


Tags: @Sunbather @Giyari @welian

 

[Elle Joyner]

...Sweet Dreams...

Location: Etherea


Mood: Buoyant


Tags: @Mr. Grin, @Erhm... Anyone watching?

Concentration wasn't necessarily a strong suit of Olive's. She was a lot of things, good and bad, but one of her more notable virtues was a sense of honesty. Of course, a lot of people would suggest that she just wasn't smart enough to lie, but in reality, Olive just found dishonesty an ugly habit that did very little more than get you into trouble. Dishonest people, she always said, we just people too afraid to be themselves... and anyone who couldn't be comfortable in their own skin wasn't someone worth getting to know beyond a 'hullo'.


Her grandmother, because Idgie was also terribly honest and never minced words, called Olive 'Goldfish'. It was a nickname she'd had since childhood, one that had stuck with her into adulthood, largely due to her lack of an attention span and her penchant for forgetting impressively acute details. Olive wasn't stupid, per say, but she wasn't completely smart, either, and when one paired a busy life with a less than legendary IQ, the product was pretty predictable. The funny part was, with an affection for people and her experience in bar tending, Olive was a brilliant listener. She could recall the most minute attributes about a person after only one meeting... but if that same person asked Olive to take a cake from the oven with the ring of an egg timer, it was guaranteed that when the timer went off, Olive wouldn't recall what she was supposed to do and there would be one burnt cake at the end of it all.


It wasn't so unusual then, that in the midst of severed heads and parasol swinging and general chaos, Olive was still busying herself with bubbles and Dean Martin and paying very little attention to much more than that.


It was the explosion that captured her focus, at long last, the little blur of a creature wrapped succinctly around her legs. Confetti rained down still onto the grass and flowers and Olive stared, her bright eyes wide and glittering. When the creature - a boy, as it turned out, untangled himself and stepped back, Olive turned round to face him and her full mouth split into a wide grin.


"Well..." She started, her voice carrying the uttermost warmth, "Color me impressed, indeed."


She made it a habit, sometimes not even intentionally, sometimes just because it made sense, not to speak to children like children. There were always words and subjects one didn't breech when young ears were about, but there was caution and there was condescension. Cooing at a young boy like he was a toddler, even if he was the most adorable thing she'd seen in a long time, wasn't just silly, it was insulting, and where Olive might not have been too bright, intelligence wise, she had her moments of clarity.


"I'm Olive." Straightening as much as her four-foot-eleven frame could, she extended a hand. It was then, looking around at the crowd that she noticed quite a few things.


Seven things, to be exact. The first was that as cute as he was, there was something immeasurably off about him, too... his face, it wouldn't stand still, and no matter how much she squinted or tried to focus on it, she just couldn't get a clear grasp. The second was that the crowd, while some of them were still battering away at the shields seemed largely to have tuned their focus elsewhere, to the center of the copse. The third was that while she was well aware that she was dreaming, there was also something so uncommonly real about the dream - and part of that presented itself in the sense of wrongness... that she wasn't just dreaming, but that there was more to it. The harder she focused, the more details she picked up and the more reality washed over her, until she was sure it wasn't a dream at all, but something -real- happening within a dreamlike environment. But that line of thinking, not by any stretch the first time it had been thought, always made her head hurt, so she moved on to the forth thing... which was that just about everyone, save for the little boy before her, and a few others bouncing about, were mountainously gargantuan.


She'd need to be sure she wasn't stepped on...


The fifth detail she picked up was that one of those mountains, the tallest from what she could see, reminded her just a little too much of those creepy face-sucking things from Harry Potter. Anyone normal or relatively intelligent, with that sort of realization might've been rationally afraid of the thing... but Olive was just plain curious. Curious... and apparently staring. Gaping, really. With embarrassing focus.


Forcing herself to look away, she returned to the second detail, which ultimately morphed into the sixth detail, that the circle of people at the center of copse weren't just preparing for an exceptionally tall group hug... but were, in fact, staring at something, the way she had just been staring at the Dementorish figure.


The seventh thing was the very thing everyone had been focusing on - and that happened to be the viscera of a severed head, thrown into the center ring.


...A severed head.


Significantly less adorable than the little sprite who had blown up the shield. Turning her eyes back to the boy, she blinked, "Oh. Oh my..."

 

[Pentagon]

(collaboration with @Sunbather)


Chloé’s head - and by that, you may think of the one that isn’t quite nightmare fuel - remained propped onto her arms while reaping the benefits of her work, as abysmal as they were: A few chuckles due to the reactions of her trophy’s dismissive treatment. A barely noticeable shrug followed, one that didn’t even begin to look admitting or guilty whatsoever. “It’s just a head, guys, jeez…” She couldn’t quite suppress the faint sound of a giggle as she spoke, though it appeared she didn’t have to anyways, as someone else seemed quite audibly amused by her actions. Her head turned (and allowed the tongue of her second mouth to get uncomfortably close to the girl that had tripped over the terror’s skull, almost licking her ankle) to see a metal coated knight with an almost androidic appearance. “At least SOMEONE’s not freaking out”


Richard laughed again. The peals did not carry the notes of surprise they had before, replaced as they were with the pleased familiarity of Desidiab’s tone. Her actions never ceased to surprise him, at least they had not yet, but they always rang somehow familiar, as though joined by a theme he could not isolate. Perhaps Etherea was playing its tricks again. Absentmindedly, Richard noticed the patterns of his ‘skin’ began shifting more rapidly. He made a note to investigate the reason. As his exterior warped its hues of brown and silver and grey, he extricated himself from the crowd and made his cautious way over to the twisted form of his acquaintance.


“You do have a particular effect on people, Desidiab.” The metal figure gestured at her bulbous, somewhat grotesque form as he spoke. “I thought you would be used to it now. Though, I wouldn’t blame our newest comrades just yet: it takes a surprising amount of time for individuals to realize that ‘dream world’ truly does mean dream world, in my experience.”


An overly vigorous giggle sounded from the now once again moony face. “I’m not sure what’s wrong with it, really…”, her tone overly innocent as she gave her own body a good, hard look, “I think it’s quite nice, really.” At the very least it allowed her to peek above the majority of her fellow knights and soon-to-be knights, giving her assurance that at least half of them were grossed out. Another giggle escaped her. “I mean… you look like something I’d be afraid of if I came across it just because you seem… possible.” Her voice trailed off as she spoke, drowned out by childish snicker. It had always been astonishing how easily she was amused in this world, whereas it was a herculean feat to merely wrestle a smirk from her lips when she was awake. “So, seems they’ve been going at it before I came. What did I miss, mh?”


With the mention of possibility, Richard tried fruitlessly to not picture a functioning android. He had done his best to not be so vulnerable, but just as one could never ‘not think about a pink elephant’, Richard could never not think about a feasible robot. As he wrestled his misbehaving mind into control, his body changed alarmingly, conforming itself to each new hypothesis, then shifting away as one was discarded in favor of another. He felt his arms solidify, then change to tungsten, then disappear altogether. He grew a foot, then shrunk two. His chest became alarmingly bulbous, and most worryingly of all, his body shifted two feet to the right of his core as his mind questioned why a real android would have a knot of wood in its chest. One second passed, then two. On the third, Richard finally managed to resume his normal form. He considered again trying to change his persona, impossible as it seemed.


“Thanks for that, Desidiab.” The sarcasm dripped from his words, as much as he could muster. “Now I’ve probably scared the new arrivals.”


A deep breath, entirely desultory in his lungless body, calmed him somewhat, and the smile returned to his steel face. “As for your body, you’ll find no argument here. It is refreshing to see something so unique in a sea of…” Richard drifted off, gesturing subtly at the plethora of armored figures or beautiful, scantily-clad women in attendance. “Originality is a virtue, in my opinion.”


An eyebrow, nothing more than a pattern on the steel of his face, raised slightly, attempting to recall something he knew he had forgotten. “What was your question? Oh! Right, what did you miss. Honestly, I haven’t the faintest idea. I arrived only moments before you did. I would guess the Sentinel wants to initiate a new batch of knights, and is being surprisingly direct about it.”


Equally petrified as the newly arrived knights unfortunate enough to get a glimpse of Richard’s failure to self-actualize, Chloé merely lacked the expression of a frightened calf, instead finding herself in quite the good mood. “Man, I’ve totally aced my class with that stuff...” she mumbled, her eyes fixed upon Eschatologue’s ever-changing skin, though it was doubtful the Apple Knight would actually hear her. After he managed to calm his spasm-like state and continue their conversation, Chloé followed his gaze, finding herself in reluctant agreement. “Uh…”, she stalled, trying to avoid sounding condescending, “right, it’s not easy standing out, mh?”


“Amai being straightforward? Is it Christmas and Easter today? Do we have a double eclipse?” She peered over, following The Sentinel’s slow movement, then forced air out of her clenched teeth. “They don’t seem tooooo enthusiastic about their challenge, or is that just me?” Chloé’s momentary silence accompanied by the soundscape of struggling rookies, murmuring and, though it obviously was no source of sound, the girl could basically hear Lady Amai’s disappointment. Once more, the Serendibite Knight sneered, before her face lost the gleeful expression, instead seeming intrigued. “Oh…”, she said, tapping into Eschatologue’s side, careful not to run her claws over his skin, “...look who’s joining us.”


Her tone changed, suggesting a genuine interest. Her eyes appeared to be following the little figure as well, and though she didn’t flinch or otherwise changed expression as he effortlessly broke the shield into bits, a sort of distanced respect was written into her expression. Or maybe it was just the lack of “Garlblarghl” sound coming from the back of her head. “Ain’t that cute?” Dripping with sarcasm, she once again placed her limbs on the ground in order to rest on them. “Looks like he’s fond of the bubble girl…”


“In his defense, what pubescent boy wouldn’t be fond of ‘the bubble girl’” The ‘eyebrows’, no longer in service to memory, wiggled suggestively. “I wonder why he is here. I’ve never seen him at one of these events before.” Richard smiled with self-deprecation, at an obvious revelation achieved too late. “Of course, that is probably why he is here. Discovery embodied, happening upon something undiscovered.”


The pair fell silent for a moment, regarding the spectacle. His eyes widened slightly as Pyrite accidentally impaled one of the new knights. Richard couldn’t help but choke out the same surprised chuckle he had given the head.


“That should shock them. Maybe this was the Sentinel’s plan all along, and she is being more subtle than we give her credit for. If she doesn’t wake up from that, maybe they’ll finally realize they’re in a dream.”


Chloé actually flinched a little at the sight of the rookie getting impaled by Dio’s weapon. “Ouch… What an idiot…” For an American with Russian and Italian heritage, her tone was distinctly British, but that might’ve just been the derogatory hiss her voice had become. For a second, she turned towards the Apple Knight, giving him a look of disbelief, only to immediately refocus onto the Sentinel. “I really doubt she’d try and sort of… subtlety with Dio being involved…” Mirroring Richard’s expression, she raised an eyebrow, the opposite side of her face scrunched up. “No, really, you can’t believe she thinks that fool is someone to plan on?”


Chloé’s question remained unanswered, however, and any attempts at picking up smalltalk with the Serendibite Knight would be wasted, seeing how she was occupied dodging the severed head that came flying her way. Instinctively, dark matter manifested around her frame, warding off the projectile. Of course, using her power was a waste in this area, but it never hurt to show off a little bit around the younglings. Mark your territory and all that jazz. With a pathetic “plop” sound, the head ricocheted off of her void shield and rolled back into the midst of rookies, close to the Sentinel’s feet. “Oookay, who thinks they’re being funn-” but she couldn’t finish her sentence, as the previously serene voice of Lady Amalia now took on a more authoritative tone. Like a scolded child, Chloé immediately seized her motions, instead giving the Sentinel a half-hearted look and took on a posture with hanging shoulders. “Yes, fine, I’ll get it…” Her head turned towards Richard once more. “Excuse me real quick…”


“Don’t worry about it, Desidiab. I will speak to you later.”, intoned Richard, already making his way back into the crowd and well out of the interest of spectating individuals. He always enjoyed his talks with his misshapen friend, but the attention it inevitably brought him was rarely comforting. Richard’s strides were quick and purposeful, and within whatever passes for seconds in Etherea, he had found himself once again in the comfortable anonymity of the crowd pressing all around him.


All the better to watch this cavalcade of disasters unfold.

 

[Giyari]

Mood: - Excited


Location: - Sentinel's Garden


Company: - The Sentinel, The new recruits.


@'s: - @Zahzi @welian


Other: - I reckon one opponent, maybe two would be the most I could reply to, Tag me in the OOC before replying so there's no clashing posts.

The Blood Knight - Kezia Silverstone


A more senior Knight probably meant someone that had been around for more than a year in Corporea's time, but with a foot to her backside and a stumble forwards to the edge of the garden, it looked like Kezia, the Mercury cored Knight, had been volunteered. For what exactly she was unsure, but given that The Discovery had just KO'd a shield with zero effort, she doubted it was breaking another one of the black towers. Of course, having The Discovery; a dream, explain willpower to Corporeans, that could be odd. In fact Kezia wasn't sure if Dreams even understood the very human concept of willpower. Perhaps they did, being creations of countless years of human concious thoughts, hopes, and fears, all solidified as living concepts, perhaps they inherited a "human" mind too. She'd never bothered to ask them.


Turning around to see Weiss file out of view, Kezia gave a light chuckle, she'd get him back for this later some way or another.


"Hitting shields is one thing, and as impressive as that feat was, Discovery, Sentinel's right, how can you feel anything, understand anything, when you're just hitting a wall?" Kezia called out confidently towards Sentinel as she took up her offer. "Me against you! An old fashioned hands-on session, yes?" she continued, her voice projecting from behind her unmoving mask as she stood next to The sentinel. It had been a while since she was this close to the Knights leader actually. Lowering her volume considerably, Kezia spoke to Sentinel more directly.


"Hope you don't mind it being me. Knight, Knightmare, the powers work on the same principles, more or less... Neutral. I'll keep things neutral for them, sides can come later." Neutral was a good way to put things, Kezia seen herself as neural quite often, although there was a noticeable leaning towards the Abyssal faction.


Holding out her hand at full arms length, Kezia motioned as if she was grasping at something, her hand shaping around a pole that, as she moved, seeped from her cracking and crumbling armour plates. The brilliant silver liquid leaked through her fingers, dripping towards the grass below like a waterfall below her fist. From the top of her hand it seeped against gravity, extending skywards, before the mass of metal focused inwards, and with a slight whine of an unsheathing blade, solidified into the recognisable shape of a spear. The long shaft was around the same height as Kezia herself, now coloured to match her almost chitinous armour. With the addition of the tapering mercury coloured blade on the end, the spear extended past even her floating hair.


Lifting her spear into the air, Kezia loudly thunked it's end off the grass.


"Let's be honest... immobile targets can only show you so much, So who want's to step it up a few notches? Who's going to give me a run for their money!" The insect like knight announced, challenging the new recruits. Kezia could feel her core pulsing, she could feel it melting through her blood from her bones, the silver metal heating up her body as the anticipation for action built. Yes, this was what being a knight, being a Knightmare, was all about, the fight.

 

[Sunbather]

Location:


Etherea


Tags:


@Mr. Grin @DaughterofAthena @Elle Joyner

V.A. Blackwell & Chloé Adrianna Pavlyuchenko (Collab with Mr. Grin)


Chloé parroted the words silently as the Sentinel turned her back away, pulling a face. So that’s how we are doing that, blah… Kill the terror, Chloé, chase it through town… But don’t dare show up with the head... She continued to whine about the situation, aiming a quick, menacing glare into Jocelyn’s direction, hoping to get a bit of a rinse out of her, then scuffled over to the detached head, though her motions clearly lacked any enthusiasm.


Meanwhile, the Malachite Knight stood watching all of the mayhem that had happened, blinking behind his makeshift mask of bandages and robe. Before he’d had a chance to react, thing had gone from a serene meeting to something a bit more at home in a warzone. A severed head was the very least of it, as more Knights moved into the fray, causing all sorts of chaos.


To make matters even more interesting, The Discovery had showed up and, to everyone’s shock, made one of the towering shields turn to… confetti? Malachite could not help but stare silently, reaching up to pluck a wavering piece of the colorful paper from the air above him.


“Hm,” he murmured thoughtfully, studying it before raising his gaze again. One of the possible new Knights, a very bright looking young lady with a head of eye-catching crimson locks, had her eyes set upon him, staring. Had it been anyone else besides the Empty Knight himself, their heart may have been at risk of permanent fluttering. Malachite, however, tilted his head inquisitively and moved more to the task at hand. There was a head that needed cleaning up and he figured he’d try to restore some order by offering his services.


“Sentinel,” he said plainly, in a gravelly monotone. “I might be of service in aforementioned task.”


At the sound of Malachite’s deep voice sounding from somewhere behind her back, the Serendibite Knight perked up, the harsher features of her “business-time” appearance shining through - Today was strenuous. With a crack of her neck, Chloé turned her upper body around, gesturing for the only individual to tower over her to shoo away. “Hey, I killed the dragon, I get the head, capiche?” As if to validate her claim, a wet hiss blared from her second maw, the tongue jittering around nervously.


Leaning on his staff, Malachite huffed passively at her words, but glowing embers of emerald appeared behind his ‘mask’ illuminating the bandages under his hood slightly. “I’ve no mean to quarrel with you, Desidiab. I only wish to restore even a semblance of order to this ordeal and, clearly, your methods of disposal would not be the most clean way of doing so.”


A small dry chuckle escaped where his lips would be under the facial covering. “No offence meant, of course. I just want things resolved in a cleanly manner. You understand, yes?”


With facial muscles tensing up and a squinting death stare, Chloé’s stubby legs followed suit, so that they stood in front of each other properly. “I honestly, like, really don’t like your tone, bedsheet.”, she replied, her tone filled with animosity, “Just let me do my thing, yeah?” A quick motion jerked her upper body forward, as if to see if he’d flinch, before the girl turned towards her “trophy”. Her back now facing the knight, the lengthy tongue swayed by Malachite’s frame, as if to give him a lick, saliva dangling off of it.


At the jerking motion, the towering robed figure simply stood his ground like a statue, grey and patchy flesh of his hand gripping his staff with a tight fist. “My tone has nothing to do with it, miss. You’re simply allowing your emotions to cloud your judgement. A common mistake of many, sadly,” he retorted.


As she turned and the tongue twitched toward him, drooling, he floated backward away from it. “If you have to resort to reacting so barbarically, I am tempted to follow suit and let my minions take your lovely ‘trophy’ for themselves as a meal,” he continued, words as irritatingly toneless as usual.


Chloé’s oversized gauntlets had already laid fingertips on the head, dragging it behind her, away from the rookie knights (some of which still appeared to be traumatized) just like Lady Amalia had ordered. She would’ve given her a sarcastic gesture of over-exaggerated compliance if it wasn’t for what sounded a hell of a lot like a challenge to the girl. Lifting the detached head up high, Chloé raised an eyebrow, now sporting a crooked grin. “Oh yeah? I’d love to see you try, Mister Calm and Collected.”


“Me?” the near-giant replied, tapping his fingers along the runes carved into his staff as they glowed a sickening color of green. “I thought I would invite a friend to take care of the dirty work, if you don’t mind.”


He began to speak backwards in gibbered tones, voice distorting to that of multiple tones that all rasped together in unison the name of whatever hellish being he was bringing forward from the fears of those around him and his own twisted imagination. The air above the two split with a hiss, and a creature of disproportioned limbs, misplaced eyes and many gnashing teeth emerged, floating through the air toward the very ‘trophy’ she held above her head.


Reluctantly stepping back a little in appropriate caution, eyeing the emerging beast. Her head tilted, Chloé couldn’t deny that it was quite unsightly, though she was in no position to talk. According to other knights that is. And dreams. And terrors. And citizens. Oh god, the citizens.


In any case, a toothy grin creeped onto Desidiab’s face, her posture shifting into one ready for battle. “I’m gonna go on a limb and say I can’t disfigured that thing any more, huh?”, she jeered at the Malachite Knight, then dismissed the head she held tightly to free her weapons up for the creature. A blanking swipe of her claws followed, forcing it to react.


“Oh, you would be correct there. I’ll admit, it’s not much in the ‘looks’ department, though they’re quite effective,” he replied simply, a small chuckle following his words. The star vampire mewled horrifically and dove to avoid the attack, losing a few of its limbs with a slurping sound of dismemberment, but continuing on none the less, whipping more of the appendages at its attacker.


Despite her general appreciation of the grotesque and a high tolerance for less than pleasant aesthetics, Chloé had to admit she was somewhat disgusted with the events unfolding. “Gross…” she mumbled out, evading the first flurry of attacks with less ease than she’d like to be the case. Oh oh… The two combatants exchanged attacks for a bit, forcing the active knight to at the very least acknowledge the caster’s might.


Sensing her energy recharging to a sufficient level, Chloé prepared herself for a well-timed block and riposte - Old but reliable tactic. Her equally if not more outlandish-looking opponent charged at her, granting the knight a short-lived moment of satisfaction. The void field beginning to manifest around her, right after a crucial backstep. “Gotch-huh?” With a distinct slurping sound, she felt the back of her head pull back ever so slightly, causing her to turn around.


“Hey, what?!” But it had been too late already, as her considerably less civilized maw swooped up the severed skull plus neck with its tongue, devouring it whole without hesitation. As usual, everything came together - Her needlessly triggered power having depleted her energy for the time being, her real life persona caught up with the dreamself, her expression shifting into one of exhaustion in an instant. “Ugh…”


At once, and with a noisy slurp, everything was resolved as the ‘trophy’ was disposed of. In an instant, the Empty Knight rose his staff and the star vampire froze in place with a screech, folding in on itself until it was no more.


“Erm…” he began, flabbergasted for once. “I suppose that’s another way of handling things all-together.”


Lowering the staff, Malachite willed it away and stepped forward toward his weary opponent. “I hope that wasn’t a tad on the side of overdoing it,” he said with a light sigh, voice betraying a hint of regret at going straight to summoning an eldritch horror. “Perhaps our little game got out of hand, eh?”


Chloé was wrestling with her lungs, trying not to pant like she just ran a marathon, though control was a slippery fiend at the moment. Her powers made her a glass cannon, in spite of her sturdy appearance, that much was undeniable. Sitting down to recharge - a matter her ego estimated to be of urgency - she looked up at the tall figure. A groan escaped her, her arms crossed now that they had transformed back. “Maybe. I mean, I had your little pet, but…” She snorted in anger, then attempted to channel her emotions into a confident facade. “Then again, I DID get the head, eh?” she teased.


Looking down to her and meeting her gaze, the robed being couldn’t help but smirk unseen behind his ‘mask’. “Hm. Well, I suppose you did indeed. Though the outcome was not as I had assumed it would go, I must concede and admit my defeat. The ‘trophy’ was indeed yours.”


At this, he bowed his head, extending a hand out to one side in a formal sort of showy bow. “To your Victory, Desidiab Knight.”


Gnawing on her lower lip and an ever intensifying furrowing of her brow, the sitting knight exhaled air through her nose forcefully “Come on… what, I… I DID win!” she insisted.


Standing up straight again, he gave a simple nod and stepped away, moving a few feet toward the newcomer that had seemingly been impaled and leaving Desidiab to her insistence of a true victory.


Now writhing in her hurt ego, Chloé irrevocably bathed in attempts to convince herself of her triumphant victory. Like a child, she kept groaning, quietly mumbling about the audacity Malachite had to behave like this. “The nerves… I had him… Him and his weirdo dog… Hmph…” Her mood at rock bottom, her eyes peered over to the impaled body her opponent was heading towards, almost experiencing a bit of joy at someone else’s troubles. Ugh… you’re being a dick… she scolded herself, done with today’s visit to Etherea.

 

[Writer]

Thomas/Claire Ray


The Silver Knight


Sentinel's Garden

​

Claire was hesitant when the parasol hit the stone. It seemed like the blow of the hit was hard and forceful, but had it been enough? Well, the stone was still standing, so it clearly hadn’t been enough to break the thing in two. But as she looked at it, she noticed that it was now cracked all over, as a result from her blow! It wasn’t quite the full result that Claire had been hoping for, but she was ecstatic none the less to see that she had made a dent in the thing. Although Claire wasn’t necessarily one to root against another person’s success, she still felt bit satisfied when she discovered that she was the only one who seemed to have made any progress on any of the stones.


As the Sentinel spoke, Claire took in her words. It seemed, for certain, that the Sentinel was not too pleased with one of the other...Knights? Claire wasn’t sure if everyone here was a Knight, whatever being a Knight was anyways, but for now she was going to operate on that assumption. Clearly, they weren’t the first to go through whatever this ceremony or induction was, and they probably wouldn’t be the last.


There was so many questions Claire had, questions that no one seemed to think were important. Everyone else, even the other ones who seemed to be in the same “new” group that she belonged to hadn’t acted like anything was abnormal. Had Claire missed some kind of info session? Had she forgotten to grab the pamphlets that said “WTF Is Going On 101”? Like inner power? What inner power was the Sentinel talking about?


Just as when Claire was about to raise her voice, and ask a question, the unexpected happened. Suddenly, there was a loud pop, and the air was filled with...confetti? Claire hoped that no one had seen her jump slightly in a scare at the sound. Jump scares were just not her thing. Looking around, it seemed some other person had come running up the stones, hit one, and it instantly turned to confetti. So much for being the only person to have made any progress on any of the stones. That person then collided with another woman in Claire’s group, the red head. Showoff, Claire thought to herself, annoyed that someone else had one-upped her already. And then, as if things weren’t getting chaotic enough, something even more unexpected happened.


A boy came out of nowhere, landing right in between Claire and the target. What the hell was he thinking, landing right by her like that? Claire was about to give him a piece of her mind, and thus missed what the boy yelled. She did, however, see him raise his staff/spear in his hand and give it a throw towards the shield. “Hey, what’s-” Claire had only gotten a few words into her tirade before she cut herself off. The last few moments had all happened so fast, Claire wasn’t even sure what had just happened. She had an idea of what she thought she just saw, but she hoped to God it wasn’t true.


Slowly, almost against her will, she turned her eyes down to look down at the rest of her body. Right under her chesticles, sticking out clear as day, was the spear that had just been tossed by the boy. Oh god. I’ve been impaled. This is it. This is how I die. Claire didn’t even know what to do. What do you do when you’re impaled by a fucking spear? Pull it out? It worked like a bullet, right? You had to get the thing out to stop the bleeding.


Not even believing what she was about to do herself, Claire reached down and put both her hands around the spear, and then with a single thrust did her best to pull the spear up and out of her. With a huge tug, Claire pulled the spear from her body, with a force even she didn’t quite realize she had. As the spear left her body, she pulled her hands back from the spear, sending it flying through the air straight into the cracked stone.


In that short period of time that the spear was in the air, Claire had an opportunity to look down at herself, noticing that strangely enough there wasn’t even a mark left from where the spear had hit her. It was like it had never even impaled her. Yet, she had felt the pain from the spear, and she pulled it out, she had seen her blood on the part of the spear that had been inside of her. She needed someone to explain what the hell was going on, and why wasn’t a huge gaping hole in her chest.


Yet, at that exact moment, Claire jumped out of fright again, as a even louder and closer “POP!” went off in the air, and even more confetti appeared in the sky. More than pissed off at another jump scare, Claire shot her eyes up to see what the hell had just happened. Looking at the bloodied spear on the ground next to where the cracked stone used to be, it only took Claire a moment to figure out what had happened. The spear, when she pulled it from her body, must have shot across and broken the stone.


More than a bit shaken up at the two jump scares, getting impaled by a spear and yet having no damage, and oh, seeing the decapitated head of some monster on the ground, Claire was more than a little fed with being out of the loop. Putting her hands on both her hips and a stern expression across her face, Claire yelled out to anyone within earshot, “Can someone please tell me the WHAT THE FUCK is going around here?”

 

[SkyGinge]

Lee MacCallion
Location: Corperea: A Park Near the Highway

Pinpoint. His gaze traced the arc of his arm, skirted down the top of the pistol, chased an invisible line of sight. He closed his eyes, closed his ears, closed out all thoughts bar the image of the shot. Peace. He imagined the bullet surging from the gun, the impact with the tree. His finger tensed on the trigger.





Bang!


Lee's lips curled into a sly grin. If, instead of being a harmless, non-aggressive tree, the unoffending foliage had been an angry, nightmarish leaf monster (some people have strange, strange nightmares, he'd discovered), it would now be a dead nightmarish leaf monster. He holstered the gun on his belt, imagined himself a cowboy, opened his eyes. Of course, firing a pistol in a public place was a surefire way to get yourself arrested, so the innocent tree was left happily unscathed. But Don was away from the ranch with relatives in Iowa (wherever that was), so Lee didn't have a definitive place to practice his marksmanship. An eager beaver he might have been, but he felt it was beginning to suffer under over-reliance on his Etherian abilities.


Lee had always been a sucker for a good sight, and not just the kind of sight which walks around on two legs. The crescent moon was a sleepy half-eye peeping through the evening horizon. The sunset was golden, and quite simply beautiful; it was the kind of night where you take a girl out to a park or something and make veiled remarks about how beautiful the scenery is every time the conversation lapses, struggling to resist connecting the dots between sky and signorita. He was in a park now, a small one overlooking a highway into the city centre, though the only company he had was the occasional intrepid possum. Post-British weather paranoia always kept Lee sceptical of a sudden rainy ambush, but the peachy sky was naked, entirely devoid of cloudy covering.


Hands restlessly twiddling with the unloaded weapon, Lee walked on to look out over the highway. The road passed right in front of him, but then declined down to a metropolitan ridge and the city below, roads spiraling out like the strands of a web. San Jose was a far cry from the small Scottish village of his childhood, the place he still considered home, with all its noise and its skyscrapers and its incessant energy. From the elevation of the hill, the home-bound hustlers in their cars were like tireless worker ants. Lee smiled - he loved the feeling of the wind rippling through his clothes.


When Lee had first enlisted with the Knights, and subsequently discovered the super-secret website of awesome, he'd expected it to be some kind of hi-tech spy network. His idealism left him quite disappointed when he discovered that there was no magical spy satellites to detect otherworldly invaders. No hacking into CCTV for wider surveillance. Just the eyes of the Knights and their associates, and the power of the mobile phone.


If eyes were the only medium for detection, then he would have to train his eyes to spot the unnatural. Often, Terrors started minute and then grew as the hosts nightmares magnified and intensified. The challenge, in most circumstances, was the equivalent of trying to find a contact lens in a river, though Lee had never been one to think particularly heavily on the odds. Numbers belonged only in the invisible part of the world; and whilst obscure, Lee's targets were distinctly visible. Besides, everything in Etheria had a trademark simplification to it, a semi-cartoon-like visualisation that his time spent there would, in theory, allow him to recognise.


To anybody who knew his lively public persona, this vigilant, quieter side would come as quite the shock. But in Lee's mind, you have to work if you want to achieve, and it had always been his mentality to squeeze the experience out of each and every moment. Anyway, a forest was a poor audience for any witticism he might usually produce.


Lee closed his ears and opened his mind. He probably looked like a right weirdo, stood by the side of the road, surveying the horizon with a po-face Spock would be enviable of, but no - that was exactly the kind of distracting thought he wanted away with. His eyes would be his brain now; he would think only with his sight.





Sight.


The Scotsman stood statuesque for a long, five minutes, though soon time too faded from his awareness. He could have been there mere seconds and he wouldn't have known. The cars rushed past in front of his face, dull-coloured blurs, tricks of the light. Rush-hour traffic, though rush-hour had long since passed, was still relatively horrendous, and soon the stream of vehicles stagnated, came to a stop right in front of him.


He was so focussed on the bigger picture that it took him an embarrassingly long time to notice that there, right there in the backseat of the Skoda in front of him was a small, writhing Terror.


Lee blinked rapidly, as if to blink his body back into action, but he was too late; the pause was but a brief fluctuation in the traffic, and the car sped on down the road. Well, this is... odd... Lee thought. Of all the chances... but fortune was a fickle beast, and Lee had no qualms with it. Ridiculous as it was, this promised action, and action was(n't) Lee's middle name.


Now he needed a plan. Knight conduct normally prioritised stealth, but given the target was a highly mobile Skoda-parasite, he saw little way of apprehending it save for a good old fashioned car chase. And now he actually had a reason to do this, and could probably get away with it too without getting a speeding fine. All he needed was a quick vehicle...


~~~


"Boooorrrnn... in the Yew-Eys-Ayyy..." droned the slumped driver of the battered Ford Focus. He wasn't quite sure why that particular song was in his head, but it was. Maybe it was because it was true - he was born in the USA! And that was about the only thing he understood. For some reason, the road was swerving left and right, and there was a horrible blaring sound outside that he couldn't quite work out, as if the world was angry with him. He shrugged, muttered something unintelligible under his breath, and took another hefty swig of vodka from the friendly bottle on the seat next to him.


It wasn't long before the road stopped moving all together. "That's stu-range... huh," the man muttered, scratching what little hair remained on his bulbous head. Maybe the car had died. Maggie was always yapping at him to get a new car. Or maybe his for had just slipped off the pedal. Thinking hurt his head, so he didn't bother with it any more, instead settling into a comfortable recline.


There was a sharp knock at the window and, startled, the man scrambled to wind it down.


"Good afternoon," came a chirpy voice in an accent which the man couldn't quite determine. Why was somebody knocking on his window? Unless... sudden fear trembled through the man.


"Are you... a cop?"


"Erm... sure. I am indeed a cop." And although the man saw no sign of a uniform, a cop was supposed to be a good person, and a good person doesn't lie, so he figured his visitor must have been telling the truth.


"I ain't done nothing wrong, Mr Cop-sir," the man droned, failing to obstruct the empty vodka bottle beside him.


"Of course you haven't. We just want to have a few words outside, if that's ok. Just sit by that tree, please."


"Suits me," said the man, nodding about ten times. His sleepy arms were reluctant to move, but eventually he swung upon the door and stumbled outside onto the grass of the hill. The tree was nice and comfortable too, which was odd considering he knew it was made of rough wood. The world was still swaying like a poorly made ferry, but out here, the refreshing breeze was there to pat him on the back.


Strange... there wasn't any sight of a police car anywhere, no flaring sirens or blaring horn. And he could have sworn - yes, on the distance over there, wasn't that his car?"


~~~


Lee put the phone on loudspeaker, placed it down in the centre of the car.


"Sup, it's me. I've spotted a terror going into town on the main highway and have apprehended a vehicle to stop it."


"Right, OK."


"Oh, and Erica, you might wanna tell the police there's someone who ought to be done for drink driving under a tree by the junction."


"... By 'apprehended a vehicle,' I'd better not be saying stole one from a drunk person."


"That's exactly what I'm saying. The dude was so bladdered I told him I was a policeman and he believed me!"


"And you're awake too, aren't you?"


"Yup."


"Lee..."


"Hey, I didn't have much of a choice, the beastie literally appeared right in front of my face. B'sides, you weren't there to tuck me in."


"If you screw up again this time, you're in for it."


"Love you too." With that, he reached over and turned the call off.


It was good to be back behind the wheel; Lee had crashed his own, far nicer car a couple of weeks previously by trying to handle-break-turn into his drive. Still, it was a far cry from the Ferrari of his dreams. The engine whineyed and juddered like a bedraggled donkey, and though he was already pushing it, he didn't think it would manage to make more than 70mph. Additionally, it stank like hell. He didn't know how much alcohol the man had drank, but judging by the stench, Lee pitied the poor man's liver.


C'mon, monster car, let's drive nice and slowly for Lee, yeah?


The Skoda had been occupied by a middle-aged couple. The wife (he presumed) had been at the wheel, and in what little he'd seen of her, he'd noted her immense tiredness, drained from a long day at the office. The husband sat at the passenger seat, fast asleep, the summoner of the terror. It was all a little ridiculous, but fortunate too; Lee had always wanted to be in a car chase.


Here's hoping the Sentinel won't have my neck for this.


The traffic was finally thinning out, and within a few minutes, Lee saw sight of the car. Now he wished he really was a policemen - having a siren would be damn convenient right now. Slamming on his own, far inferior horn, Lee sped past a couple of cars, skirted around the edge of a few more and squeezed between two lorries. All the while baring a maniacal daredevil's grin.


Crash! The smash of splintering glass ahead; a long, black claw pierced the back window of the Skoda. Lee could only imagine the screams, but traffic slowed, swerved away from the car as the monster, some kind of demon lobster thing (like he said, people had weird nightmares) clambered atop its ride, leaving only the Scotsman in pursuit.





And now for something I've always wanted to do.


Right hand on the wheel, left hand on his gun, Lee stuck his arm out of the window and took aim. Even if he had been in his Etherian form, he wouldn't have been able to do much about this predicament unless he somehow willed boomerang powers onto his scythe, and the Scotsman still didn't really understand how the whole willpower thing worked. Thinking back to the tree, he imagined the path of the bullet. His hand tensed. He squeezed the trigger.





Bang!


Nothing? Lee, you damn idiot; you forgot to put the ammo in. Teeth bared, he one-handedly tried to fumble in his pocket for the ammo. Unsuccessfully, he might add, because as a man he was eternally condemned to be an atrocious multitasker.


There was another scream up ahead as the Skoda's driver finally noticed her extra passenger. She slammed on the breaks, and the cars screeched to a sudden halt, flinging the Terror onto the road ahead, where it landed with a few unceremonious squelches, screeching like the demon baby from the flat below.


An invisible light-bulb appeared above Lee's head. An idea.


Here goes nothing, the Scotsman thought and, teeth still bared, he powered down on the pedal, accelerated as quickly as the battered vehicle could, and drove straight towards the flailing beast.


An almighty thud, a demonic cry, a loud 'Woooooo!', and all was silent. The last thing Lee remembered before he lost consciousness was the sweet taste of victory...


~~~


On the battlements of Etheria, the now skeletal form of Lee MacCallion manifest itself into existence. He brushed down his coat, as if it was this form who had just been on an action-packed drive through outer San Jose, and walked over to observe what the hell was making all that noise. Newbies, apparently. Being a relatively recent Knight himself, Lee lacked the cynicism of some of the more experienced Knights - it was only a month ago that he'd stood in their shoes, baffled as anything (though secretly impressed with his alter-egos sense of style, and happy that this world was eccentric enough for it not to bring up too many annoying discussions). Adrenaline (and car-crashing) has plastered a spiky grin onto the bone-white of his skeletal face, and, mind still breathlessly reeling with his real-wordly exploits, he simply stood there as an onlooker for now.