Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell & Ryven)
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Exotic Solos =&gt; Topic started by: grdell on 20-08-2009, 01:56:28</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>grdell</strong> on <strong>20-08-2009, 01:56:28</strong>
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				"Diego..."<br><br>The voice called out to him, but it was faint and full of echoes, as if it was coming from far away through a long tunnel.<br><br>"Diego, come to me..."<br><br>A feeling, then. Raw, primal. Primitive. <em>Intense.</em><br><br>"Diego, feel my flesh..."<br><br>It was hard to breathe, there was something in the air. Some sort of smoke... oily and thick. Something that seemed almost to coat him, and to... enter him.<br><br>"Diego, you have hungered for me, as I have for you..."<br><br>He saw him then, or at least believed he did. The source of the voice. There was a pale light, and it illuminated dark hair and intense eyes shining out of a face that was almost human. Almost... but not quite.<br><br>"Diego, I know the truth of your heart, what you desire..."<br><br>The man stood and faced him. He was enormous. Even with no frame of reference, he knew. He had always known, it seemed. He looked, for it was impossible not to. Tall, taller than any man had a right to be. Broad of shoulder and narrow of waist, heavily muscled and thick of leg. Covered with hair so thick it might almost be called fur, save for his face and his hands and his cock... which was equally enormous, built to match the rest of the man. It swung, pendulum-like, between his legs as he stood before Diego shamelessly naked. But this man - this being - knew no shame. Somehow, Diego knew this to be true. Nakedness was a natural state for every being, a state in which all are born and all ultimately return.<br><br>"Diego, leave your empty life, your false friends, and come be with me, where you will be forever content..."<br><br>It was impossible not to be drawn to this man. His presence filled the air with a palpable feeling of authority, of dominance, of sex. Of the rightness of all of the things that Diego knew in his heart to be true but which he had been taught were sinful. Diego knew that with this man there was no sin - only pleasure. The pleasure of the flesh. The pleasure he had always desired.<br><br>"Diego, we are of one spirit, you and I..."<br><br>It seemed only natural to want to be with him. Only right.<br><br>"Diego, come to me..."<br><br>The voice faded... faded... was nearly gone...<br><br>"Diego..."
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				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ryven</strong> on <strong>20-08-2009, 02:33:08</strong>
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				"Wait!"<br><br>He hardly remembered saying the word until he found himself awake, sitting up in the small bed inside an equally small room.&nbsp; His body was covered in a shimmering sweat that he could not see, but he could certainly feel.&nbsp; His chest heaved as the boy recovered from the intense, vivid experience.&nbsp; <br><br>Diego could not remember having a dream so surreal before.&nbsp; It was like something out of a movie yet it remained like a well preserved photograph in his mind.&nbsp; It scared him at least a little, but he found himself regretting that it had to end.<br><br>He swung his legs over the side of the bed, warm feet hitting cold wood.&nbsp; His rough, calloused hands both came to meet at his face, rubbing sleep and sweat from his eyes and forehead as if it would rub the memory of such an intense experience to the back of his mind.&nbsp; Diego stared into the darkness, the moonlight illuminating the cracked white paint of the wall beside the door.&nbsp; His grandmother had decided to let him stay for the night because she held a special place in her heart for him though she knew the path he took would take him out of her good graces soon enough.<br><br>His hands fell from his face, resting in his lap near his naked, exposed member which is when he found out just how intense the dream was.&nbsp; A warm wetness covered the area, mingling with the sweat on his dick, balls, and pubic hair.&nbsp; He gave a slight frustrated groan when he realized this.&nbsp; The boy had gotten so hot and bothered from the dream that he simply let go in his sleep, a sure sign that he had pent up desires with no outlet.<br><br>He threw the sheet back which had covered part of his leg before his toned, smooth form stood.&nbsp; Diego stumbled to the door, setting his hands on its weathered surface to eventually discover the knob.&nbsp; He exited the room, feeling his way down the dark hall until his hand met the door frame leading to the bathroom.&nbsp; The boy stepped inside, closing the door behind him as quietly as he could.&nbsp; His grandmother would be a force to be reckoned with if she were to be woken up in the dead of night.<br><br>A switch was flipped by an exploring finger along the wall, and the old bulbs brought life and light to the room though his deep chocolate brown eyes wanted nothing to do with it.&nbsp; He winced and closed them immediately, holding one hand up to shield them from some of the seemingly burning rays.&nbsp; Stumbling further toward the bathtub, he bent over, reaching for the old tub faucet.&nbsp; The boy turned it on to hear the water begin flowing down into the tub, one hand slipping downward to test the slowly warming liquid, and when it was the correct temperature, he stood straight, setting one leg then the other into the tub.&nbsp; His eyes had adjusted a bit more now, so he didn't have to squint or close them so much.&nbsp; Diego threw the shower curtain into place as he began to wash himself.<br><br>Half an hour later, he was sitting back in the small room, damp body standing in the pale moonlight.&nbsp; His clothes were in a pile on the floor as he moved closer to them to gather and put them on.&nbsp; The first were his boxers, deep blue and cotton, and next were his jeans which were faded and had holes in a few places.&nbsp; A plain white cotton t-shirt came next, slipping over his tattooed and muscled chest before a large basketball jersey joined over top of it.&nbsp; To top it off was his deep blue hat pulled backwards with a tied bandanna in a loop around that, the same deep blue color which was the running theme.<br><br>He'd been in the gang a few months now after dropping out of high school.&nbsp; Since his father died and his mother was arrested for various DUI charges, he'd become a vagrant.&nbsp; Diego pulled his socks and sneakers on to finish his ensemble before pulling open the door and slowly making his way to the front of the apartment.&nbsp; His hand reached for the chain lock, pulling it open.&nbsp; The door came soon after as he gave a near silent "Bye grandma" as he walked out, shutting it and the only person that perhaps gave a damn about him behind.<br><br>The boy was on his way to one of the popular meet-up places where much of the gang relaxed and chilled.&nbsp; Many of them kept odd hours, so he was sure to find at least someone there.&nbsp; Marco perhaps.&nbsp; He had a good time hanging out with him.&nbsp; It was Marco who beat him into the gang.&nbsp; He remembered the night and the hurt that the other male gave him.&nbsp; He still had a few of the scars.&nbsp; Nevertheless, he couldn't try to sleep again.&nbsp; Once he was awake, it was hard for him to go back...not to mention, the thought of meeting...that creature again...scare him.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>grdell</strong> on <strong>20-08-2009, 04:33:43</strong>
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				"Nineteen... twenty... twenty-one..."<br><br>Marco was lifting weights and counting the reps under his breath in the basement hangout the gang frequented most often. The bar upstairs belonged to his uncle and he had bullied the old man into letting them use it as soon as he taken control of the gang from that wimp Tyrone. Ty hadn't even put up that much of a good fight, the whining little douchebag. Marco remembered pounding on Ty's face until the man had had to be hospitalized and it brought a smile to his face. He kissed each bicep as he brought them up.<br><br>"Twenty-seven... Twenty-eight..."<br><br>Under the glare of the fluorescent tubes, Marco's body glistened with sweat. He watched in the mirror with pride as his muscles bulged and shifted under his skin. It felt like every rep showed off his cut and toned physique even more. He was wearing nothing more than a dirty old pair of running shorts, liking to indulge his vanity and watch every muscle as it flexed and worked. His body was his greatest weapon, and he kept it tight and strong.<br><br>"Thirty-two... Thirty-three..."<br><br>The only other person in the hangout right now was Jaco, who was thumbing listlessly through an old copy of Playboy and snapping his gum. Marco had told him about that shit one too many times. When he was finished - not even Jaco's popping gum would interrupt his routine - he'd go over there and teach him a lesson he wouldn't soon forget. Not if he looked in a mirror, anyway. And with Jaco's severe acne problem that no one wanted to look at for very long, Marco had to wonder just how often that was.<br><br>"Thirty-eight... thirty-nine..."<br><br>The code knock came at the door just as Marco was letting his mind wander. It was a bad habit when working out - staying focused was key - but he was remembering how he'd really plowed his girlfriend last night. She'd whined about being sore and he'd slapped her, the stupid bitch. She'd come around later and say how sorry she was. At least she'd better, or he'd have to slap her up some more. Thoughts of last night's sex, though, had an effect on his dick, and it got a little longer, slipping out of one of the leg holes of his shorts and touching the bench he was sitting on. He didn't give a shit. Let the guys see. If any of them looked too long, though, he'd punch them in the gut for being a stupid fag.<br><br>"Forty-five... forty-six..."<br><br>Jaco opened the door and let in the new kid, Diego. Marco remembered initiating the kid - he'd taken his beating well and Marco was sufficiently impressed to let him in. He was tough, and that counted for a lot. Besides, he reminded Marco of himself at that age. His own father had died, his mother a headcase who could barely look after herself most days, much less a problem kid like Marco. Diego had been looking after himself, at that counted for a lot, too.<br><br>Jaco stepped out when he opened the door for Diego, probably to get away from Marco's impending beating if he was smart. He wasn't. He'd be back before too long.<br><br>"Fifty-one... Hey, kid!... Fifty-two..."
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ryven</strong> on <strong>20-08-2009, 06:06:33</strong>
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				He gave the code knock just as he was taught upon being initiated in the gang.&nbsp; Two quick knocks followed by a hard hit with the palm of your hand.&nbsp; It stung just after, but that's how you knew you had done it correctly.&nbsp; Diego rested against the door frame, his forearm pressed against the cold, lead painted metal above.&nbsp; Marco's uncle eyed him with a fearful visage, and the young man could only smirk over at him.&nbsp; He sort of felt sorry for the old man, but it's a dog eat dog world.&nbsp; They needed a place to hold up, and the basement of the old man's bar was perfect.<br><br>The door opened then, a deep voice counting what Diego could only assume were reps resounding up from the basement floor.&nbsp; He gave Jaco a silent nod before letting him pass and stepping onto the steps to make his descent.&nbsp; A loud creak and hard slam reverberated behind him as the metallic basement door took its previous state, locking the two men alone in the cellar.<br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=44978.msg2151721#msg2151721">Quote from: grdell on 20-08-2009, 04:33:43</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">"Fifty-one... Hey, kid!... Fifty-two..."<br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>Diego gave a smile to his leader, one hand coming up in a slight wave as he finally took in the sight of the man lying on his back on the weight bench.&nbsp; It was the only piece of exercise equipment in the room.&nbsp; The rest of the items were a few chairs, a table, some boxes of stored liquor which the gang members had already rummaged through, leaving it in a disheveled mess, and a large flat panel television.&nbsp; That was the only item that looked out of place, and that was because the gang had stolen it.&nbsp; One of the other members used to work for the store they picked it up from, and she found out the security code before she left.<br><br>"Fifty-five... fifty-six..."<br><br>The man continued his workout regardless of the new presence, and Diego knew he wouldn't stop.&nbsp; He'd been in the gang long enough to know that when Marco was working out, no one messed with him, so the young man took a seat across the room in one of the soft recliners, falling into it to perhaps try and get a little more sleep.<br><br>"Fifty-nine... sixty..."<br><br>His head came to rest upon a balled fist, cheek pressed against it in slight boredom.&nbsp; That was when Diego's mind began to wander, and wander it did, all the way back to his dream.&nbsp; The image of the dark furred creature appeared to him as clear as it did when he was asleep.&nbsp; Large and imposing in a menacing posture as he loomed over Diego even now.&nbsp; He felt so drawn to it, and he couldn't shrug off the feeling that it was more than just a dream.<br><br>"Sixty-four... sixty-five..."<br><br>Diego's thoughts dug deeper still, eying the bestial body with more than just awe now.&nbsp; It was so large.&nbsp; Larger than anything he'd ever seen.&nbsp; The creature had muscles only fitting its size, big and powerful though not overly so, and the hair, thick and dark, covering its flesh so nicely.&nbsp; The boy found himself wanting to run his hands over it, to feel it in his fingers and to hold and touch the powerful muscles.<br><br>His mind was cloudy now with thoughts of the creature, and anyone looking at him could tell that his thoughts were elsewhere.&nbsp; A finger from the hand propping up his head crept over, perhaps unconsciously, to tease at the corner of his mouth, and Diego found his tongue slipping out to lick at it in a slight manner while his mind kept racing through thoughts about the walking wet dream of a creature he had dreamed about.<br><br>Diego began to focus more on the sexual aspects of him.&nbsp; How it would feel to touch the creature...taste him...smell him...listen to the rumbling noises only a creature such as he could make, and then...there was that cock.&nbsp; My god, it was beautiful, hanging and swinging with each movement of the beast's body.&nbsp; It was perfect, unmarred by the rash misconceptions of modern medicine just as Diego, himself, was intact.&nbsp; He couldn't help but stare at it, his mouth watering unconsciously...or perhaps consciously at this point.&nbsp; The young man could not deny his desire as he observed it laying there, poking out of the shorts as if it beckoned to him.&nbsp; It's shaft was darker...darker in color than the rest of his body.&nbsp; It was intoxicating to look at...<br><br>A noise broke into his silent reverie then.&nbsp; It was a rumble, sort of sickening and overly loud.&nbsp; His eyes focused once more, taking in the sight of Marco's dick still hanging quite free from the leg of his shorts though now the man had long since stopped his reps.&nbsp; In fact, he was looking quite menacingly at Diego.&nbsp; The boy looked like a deer in headlights as he straightened up.&nbsp; He tried to act as if nothing happened, as if it was just a mistake.&nbsp; Somewhere in his thoughts, reality blurred with fantasy, and the creature and Marco had intertwined for a brief moment.<br><br>He chuckled nervously, the hand propping up his head moving up to scratch his head in a rather anxious fashion.&nbsp; Diego hoped Marco had not caught him, and if he had, he hoped he wouldn't beat the shit out of him.&nbsp; Marco was bigger than he and quite strong, and if he wanted, he could spread this around to the rest of his fellow gang members to make his life hell.<br><br>"So...uhh...wha's goin' on, Marco?"&nbsp; He asked in quite an unsure and nervous tone.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>grdell</strong> on <strong>20-08-2009, 15:33:41</strong>
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				Marco watched out of the corner of his eye as the kid flopped down into one of the big chairs. It was a good habit to get into - watching your people even when they didn't know you were watching. Hell, especially when they didn't know you were watching. Diego stared off into space and just zoned. Marco was fine with that for now, just so long as the kid could snap to attention if he was needed for something.<br><br>He kept up his routine though his arms burned. He wanted to do 75 reps, at least, today. He felt his mind getting foggy from the pain in his muscles, but he kept on, occasionally looking over at Diego. The kid still had that spaced out look in his eyes, but he wasn't just staring at nothing anymore - now he was staring at him. A few more reps and then he looked again. Yup, no question, Diego was definitely staring right at him now, and what's more, it looked like he may be staring at his junk.<br><br>If the new kid was a fuckin' fag, he'd beat the shit out of him until he knew never to look at Marco's package ever again. Marco was proud of his body - and his dick - but nobody with junk of their own was going to be looking at his.<br><br>He was nearing the end of his set when he looked again. Jesus H. fucking Christ, now the kid was licking his own finger. If that wasn't fucking suggestive, he didn't know what was.<br><br>He hit the 75 reps he'd wanted to do, and even though he could have squeezed out a few more, he decided to stop. He put the weights down and just looked at Diego. The kid was still basically out of it, not really paying any attention to what he was doing - half asleep, most like - but there was no question he was staring at Marco's dick and sucking on his goddamned finger.<br><br>Fuck.<br><br>Marco had realized long ago that he was a lot smarter than your average thug. He had a natural cunning that had helped him get where he was today. This was one of those times where he was glad he could think his way around a problem instead of just pounding it. It was just him and Diego in the hideout, nobody else around, no danger. If there had been any witnesses or any kind of threat, he would have acted on impulse and just launched himself off the bench and beat the kid within an inch of his life. Better to show no weakness and no mercy when anybody else was around to see. But with just the two of them - hell, he could fuck with the kid and learn for sure and nobody would know. But he had to play it cool...<br><br>He cleared his throat, trying to snap the kid out of it. He saw Diego come awake, and there was absolutely no question that he was now consciously staring at his dick. Fine. That just made it all the easier.<br><br>Diego laughed nervously and asked what was up in a tone that proved to Marco that he knew that he knew. He was caught and he knew it, but he tried to blow it off. That was not gonna slide. No, sir.<br><br>"Starin' at my junk? Like what you see, you little faggot?"<br><br>And now, for the clincher. He stood up, but instead of putting his dick away, he grabbed it and gave it a few strokes, making it get a little longer and thicker as it started to get hard.<br><br>"You like my big dick, huh? Wanna see more of it, do ya?"
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ryven</strong> on <strong>20-08-2009, 16:07:07</strong>
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				It was clear, by what the man said, that he had picked up on what Diego had done.&nbsp; The boy had been caught red-handed.<br><br>"Nah, man...nah!&nbsp; I wasn't.&nbsp; I'm not a fag, man."&nbsp; He protested though it was obvious that Marco was skeptical about that.&nbsp; His dark mahogany eyes watched as the taller gang leader stood, but instead of letting the shorts fall to cover the object of Diego's lust, Marco wrapped a hand around the thick shaft to give it a few strokes.<br><br>The boy's eyes widen as he realized what that could me or rather he thought he realized what it could mean.&nbsp; Was Marco actually suggesting that he'd put on a little show for him?&nbsp; This was better than a dream or perhaps it was.&nbsp; It was hard to tell now given his dream less than an hour earlier.&nbsp; Maybe this was a very vivid dreams just as the other was, so if he were to assume that, what was the harm in taking this a little further.<br><br>His tongue snaked out to run along both his lips, licking them thoroughly before he spoke again.&nbsp; "Yeah...fuck...show me more, Marco..."&nbsp; Diego's voice came in a hoarse tone, and after he spoke the words, he had to once again question if this was real or not.&nbsp; As far as his senses were concerned, it was quite real.&nbsp; The smell in the room was thick with the scent of his leader's sweat, and his dark skin shimmered with it under the fluorescent ambiance.&nbsp; His eyes couldn't stop staring at the fat length encircled by the other male's hand, and to his own surprise, Diego's hand had crept down to gently rub a thumb over his slowly growing dick which had slowly begun to bulge against the fabric of his faded jeans.&nbsp; What was he getting himself into?
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				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>grdell</strong> on <strong>20-08-2009, 19:51:23</strong>
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				Marco moved forward, toward Diego, slowly stroking himself. Yeah, the kid was a fag, all right. Even admitted he wanted to see more. Well, that was just too fucking bad, because this particular eyeful was all he was ever gonna get. And to make matters worse, he started pawing at himself even through his clothes. Goddamn kid had probably never even actually done it yet. Sure, he was still young, but you tended to pop your cherry pretty young in the mean streets of New York, where the sex was free and easy for someone strong enough to reach out and take it. Marco himself had lost his virginity at 14, and this kid wasn't much older than that. What was he now? 16? 17? something like that. Shame, really. He could have really made something of himself in the gang. Marco wouldn't kick him out just for being a fag, but he sure as hell wasn't going to trust him anymore.<br><br>He had come close enough to reach out and touch Diego, if he wanted. His boner pointed straight at the kid, like an accusing finger.<br><br>"Yeah, that's right. You like my big dick, all right. You are a little faggot, after all, ain't ya? Ain't ya?"<br><br>He let go of himself, allowing his dick to just stand on its own, pointing towards Diego, close enough to touch...<br><br>His hands curled into fists just behind his back.<br><br><em>Make one move, kid, even try to reach out, and it'll go all the worse for you.</em><br><br>Oh, he was going to get a beating - and a bad one - anyway, but if he gave in to the temptation and tried to touch Marco's dick, he might even end up in the fucking hospital. Damn shame. The kid had had potential...
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				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ryven</strong> on <strong>20-08-2009, 20:46:37</strong>
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				His stare intensified as Marco drew closer, shamelessly stroking his dick for the other boy's pleasure.&nbsp; Little did Diego know that this was only a trap.&nbsp; His gang leader was no more into him than any other guy in the gang, but it would soon be too late for him to realized that.<br><br>The man was so close now, dangerously close.&nbsp; Diego could reach out and touch the beckoning organ as it stared him down.<br><br>"Yeah...fuck, man...I love it..."&nbsp; He said hoarsely once more, his tongue licking over dry lips and his throat swallowing as his mouth watered in lustful desire.<br><br>Diego's hands fidgeted nervously as his yearning to reach out and touch Marco's cock grew steadily.&nbsp; He was still not entirely sure the whole thing was real, but he could never imagine something like this happening.&nbsp; Marco didn't seem like the guy to just offer himself so freely, especially to a guy.&nbsp; That fact alone urged Diego to move his hand...bring it forward...touch what he'd been staring at and desiring for so long.<br><br>God...it was so close to him, yet he still hesitated.&nbsp; The dark length seemed to pulse with the older male's heartbeat, glistening with a slight layer of sweat from his workout.&nbsp; It enticed him, and he could resist no longer.&nbsp; Diego's hand moved though it seemed as if some force had made it feel ten times heavier.&nbsp; It was slow and steady, deliberate and cautious.&nbsp; His hand began to reach out, upward, outward, grasping for the thick organ, and he'd just about touched it when...<br><br>The impact was sudden, and he almost had a second to wonder what happened when a bolt of throbbing pain soared through his left cheek bone.&nbsp; He'd been forced over to the opposite side of the chair by the surprising and unforeseen force.&nbsp; He was dizzy for a mere moment, but soon he saw what had happened.<br><br>The fog of lust which had clouded his mind cleared, and through it, he now saw the menacing face of his leader, standing over him and staring him down as if he'd struck the man.&nbsp; Marco's arm came again, but Diego luckily held his own arms up in time for the balled fist to make impact.&nbsp; It hurt, but not near as much as the first.<br><br>Now that he knew what had happened, he slipped from the chair, shoving Marco with his shoulder on the way to knock him off balance.&nbsp; He wasn't sure he could win this fight, but what he was sure of was that he'd made a grave mistake.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>grdell</strong> on <strong>20-08-2009, 22:58:16</strong>
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				Marco watched, disgusted, as Diego confessed. And there it was, he was reaching out for his cock. God damn it.<br><br>His right fist came swinging out from behind his back with terrible speed and force as he sucker-punched Diego, knocking the kid almost out of the chair. His second punch was blocked as Diego brought his arms up to protect his face. And then came the first counterattack as Diego launched himself out of the chair, trying to shove Marco off-balance with his shoulder as he did so. Marco was too experienced a fighter to fall for that old trick, though, and had already braced his feet against it. As Diego tried to get past Marco into a clear space in which to fight, Marco threw a kick at the back of Diego's knee, driving him down to the floor.<br><br>All of this movement caused his shorts to shift around, once more covering his rapidly deflating dick. Marco wasn't even fully conscious of this fact, but was glad of it when the door opened and Jaco stepped back in, carrying a 2-liter of Pepsi and a doughnut. Jaco's face was a mask of shock at seeing Marco and Diego fighting, and it took him a moment to recover enough to try to break it up.<br><br>Marco threw a backhand at Diego's stomach, hoping to knock the wind out of him just as Jaco rushed up behind him and grabbed his arm.<br><br>"Jesus, man, stop it! What the fuck you doin'?"<br><br>"New kid's a fuckin' faggot! Needs to be taught not to look at my junk no more!"<br><br>Jaco looked at Diego with a confused look on his face. Diego a fag?
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ryven</strong> on <strong>21-08-2009, 00:10:21</strong>
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				It was no surprise to him when Marco did not budge easily, but he was in a much better position than before.&nbsp; He felt the adrenaline pump into him as he knew he had to defend himself because the other man looked quite pissed and was about to beat into him.&nbsp; <br><br>Marco's foot came suddenly, hitting the back of his knee.&nbsp; It bent quickly, sending him down to one knee with a pained grunt.&nbsp; He cursed himself in his head as this was not a very good position to be.&nbsp; There was no way he could win this fight.&nbsp; Marco would be the shit out of him, and all because he'd let his lust take over.&nbsp; No.&nbsp; It wasn't his fault.&nbsp; Something told him it wasn't him.&nbsp; He'd never acted like this before.&nbsp; It was all that fucking dream.&nbsp; It messed with his head and made him do those things...say those things...made him look like a faggot in front of his buddies though that term was about to become a little looser by the looks.<br><br>He hadn't noticed the other man's dick being obscured once again by the fabric of his shorts, and even if he did, he'd be glad of it.&nbsp; It was temptation like that which seemed to make him act weird and not himself.<br><br>Diego doubled over with a loud groan of pain when Marco's hand made impact with his unprepared stomach.&nbsp; He coughed, falling on his hands and knees for a moment as he tried to compose himself.&nbsp; It was then that he noticed Jaco had returned, pulling the gang leader away.<br><br>He heard the words that Marco spat out, venomous and filled with anger.&nbsp; Diego pulled himself up, standing once more.&nbsp; He wiped a hand across his lip to rub away any stray saliva that might have drooled out during the tussle.&nbsp; This was not good.&nbsp; Marco had much more influence than he did within the gang given he was the leader, but he had to do what he could.<br><br>"Man, I don't know what the fuck your talkin' 'bout, man!&nbsp; I'm not no faggot!"&nbsp; He spoke out, loudly so, hoping to get his point across, more so to Jaco than Marco.&nbsp; Jaco hadn't seen the events leading up to the small fight, so it was Marco's word against his own.<br><br>He was still panting from the experience, his stomach still stinging from the pain of the last impact.&nbsp; He had to get out of there for now.&nbsp; If he stayed, he might make it worse.<br><br>"Man, fuck dis shit!"&nbsp; He said, pushing past the two to bound up the stairs, two at a time.<br><br>Diego soon found himself outside the small bar, looking up at the night sky.&nbsp; It was still a few hours until dawn.&nbsp; Plenty of time to get into trouble.&nbsp; "Fuck..."&nbsp; He said in a whisper to himself, rubbing his face with one hand.<br><br>A few minutes later, he found himself in a corner convenience store.&nbsp; He had no money, but that didn't stop him from doing a little shopping.&nbsp; He moved through the small shelves, eying the food which held similar nutritional value to a cardboard box.&nbsp; That wasn't what he was interested in, however.<br><br>The boy walked up to the clerk who eyed him wryly.&nbsp; "What can I get ya, kid?"&nbsp; The overweight black man said in a deep tone which seemed to resound with skepticism at the boy's intentions.<br><br>"Yeah...uhh...can I get uhh...two of those cigars on the back wall...and uhh...two of the others on the side there."&nbsp; Diego said, knowing well that he had no intention of buying any of it.&nbsp; He didn't even like cigars.<br><br>When the clerk turned his back to make his way over to the instructed items, Diego silently reached across the counter, slipping his hand down to grab a pack of cigarettes which were hidden below the counter.&nbsp; Once in hand, he quickly brought them to his pocket where they where dropped down inside for safe keeping.<br><br>The clerk returned with the cigars in hand, setting them down on the counter with his hand pressing down on them as if to prevent the boy from stealing them.&nbsp; This man obviously didn't trust Diego, but it was too late for that.&nbsp; He came for what he wanted.&nbsp; "You got ID, kid?"&nbsp; The clerk spoke once more.<br><br>Diego fiddled with his pockets in a mock show to try and find his wallet.&nbsp; "Aww...fuck...shit, man...I must have forgot it at home, man..."&nbsp; The man didn't look surprised as he pulled the cigars back to place them behind the counter.&nbsp; "...sorry, man..."&nbsp; The boy said as he turned to walk out.<br><br>He didn't make it halfway down the block before he had a cigarette between his lips.&nbsp; Diego took a hearty puff from it, letting the warm smoke sink into his lungs for a moment before blowing it out to mingle with the cold night air.&nbsp; Now he had to find somewhere to hold up, at least for the rest of the night.&nbsp; There was his grandmother's place, but he didn't envy having to deal with her in the morning.<br><br>Diego eventually settle on crashing at Dominique's place.&nbsp; She was another gang member, and he remembered her making the offer to the gang about using her mother's house for whatever they needed.&nbsp; He sort of felt sorry for the woman.&nbsp; She was hardly ever there, and her daughter ran the place like it was her own.&nbsp; However, her misfortune would be his salvation for tonight, and for right now, Marco had not spoken to Dominique.&nbsp; He could get a night's rest without worry about that, at least. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>grdell</strong> on <strong>21-08-2009, 21:25:18</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				It took a few minutes for Dominique to answer her door. When she did so, her flyaway hair and thick eyes suggested that she had still been asleep. <br><br>"What the hell -"<br><br>Her expression cleared up instantly, though, when she got a good look at Diego's face. The tough look that she usually wore while hanging out with the gang softened considerably.<br><br>"Marco?" she asked. Her tone suggested it wasn't really a question. "Come on in."<br><br>She lead Diego to the bathroom so that she could get a better look at his face and see if there was anything she could do for him. After examining his face under the harsh lights, she announced that he would be all right, except for a black eye that was already forming.<br><br>"You got off light, kid. Usually when Marco has it out for someone, he lays into 'em pretty hard. What happened, anyway?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ryven</strong> on <strong>22-08-2009, 00:08:32</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He was not surprised by her sour reception upon opening the door, but it was a relief when it ceased as abruptly as it started.&nbsp; The boy's face was a mask of pouting vulnerability, partly because he intended it that way and partly because his eye was slowly darkening.&nbsp; He could only nod his confirmation when she inquired about Marco though he got the feeling that she never needed to speak of it.<br><br>Diego stepped into the building, following behind the short female until they reached the bathroom.&nbsp; The lights came to life with a harsh glow inside as the boy sat on the toilet lid while she examined the bruising flesh around his eye.&nbsp; He sighed upon hearing her proclaim that he was fine, and Diego already knew this.&nbsp; Apart from some stinging around the area where Marco's fist had connected, he really didn't feel all that bad.<br><br>"I don't know, man.&nbsp; I went to the hangout, and he was there liftin' like he's always doin'..."&nbsp; Diego began to explain.&nbsp; "...but for some reason, he just up and swung at me.&nbsp; I got outta there after that, stopped to get a pack of smokes and wound up here.&nbsp; Sorry, girl.&nbsp; Didn't want to stay at my granma's place again.&nbsp; She can be a real bitch in the morning..."&nbsp; He explained.<br><br>Dominique seemed only to roll her eyes at the explanation, so she either believed it or she was too sleepy to care at this point.&nbsp; "There's a couch in the living room, blanket and pillow already on it.&nbsp; Just don't wake me up again or I'll have to make your face worse than it is..."&nbsp; She said, throwing a look over her shoulder before moving back into her room and closing the door.<br><br>Diego sighed, sitting in the bathroom for another moment or so.&nbsp; He stood up then, turning the light off before slipping silently into the living room.&nbsp; He crashed on the couch, leaving his hat on the floor as he slowly drifted back into sleep with more than a little apprehension of what he might dream of this time.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>grdell</strong> on <strong>24-08-2009, 16:02:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Diego..."<br><br>Once more, the voice. But the only images were those of Marco's cock, hard and thick in his hand.<br><br>"Come to me..."<br><br>The authority in the voice, the power and the command... Was it Marco, or was it the furred man? In his dream, there was hardly any difference.<br><br>"The way will be hard, but you will be strong..."<br><br>He felt himself struggling against something... as if the air itself had become as thick as water, as thick as mud...<br><br>"And when you find me, you will know fulfillment of your heart's greatest desire..."<br><br>Once more, the image of the cock... Whose he could not tell, but the yearning for it was as deep and strong as ever.<br><br>"Diego, come to me..."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ryven</strong> on <strong>25-08-2009, 00:35:49</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				It came again, and somehow, he knew it would.&nbsp; He hoped, oh yes, hoped that it would be gone, but there it was, plain as day in his dreams.&nbsp; It was slightly different though.&nbsp; The cock he saw was not the one before, but instead, it was that of Marco, pulsing in his hand with life and sexual energy.<br><br>The voice seemed the same, however...or at least he thought it did.&nbsp; He couldn't tell.&nbsp; All his mind could do was focus on the large organ in his hand and listen to the beckoning words.<br><br>Diego tried to move...to pull his hand away.&nbsp; The memory of Marco's anger was still with him, but it was no use.&nbsp; He struggled against whatever force was holding him there.&nbsp; The boy thrashed in his dream, but it was to no avail.&nbsp; The image of his hand wrapped around the thick cock remained along with the voice to tempt him further.<br><br>There was nothing he could do as he felt himself unable to resist at all.&nbsp; He could not shut it out nor make it stop.&nbsp; It was always there, glaring at him...enticing him...drawing him closer like a gravity of sorts.<br><br>Finally, he couldn't take it.&nbsp; It was too much.&nbsp; Too much temptation.&nbsp; It became cruel and only served to feed his yearning.&nbsp; He reached down inside, summoning his voice.&nbsp; He hoped at least that still worked, and with a great amount of concentration he let his words burst out, at least in his dream, that he wanted no more.<br><br>"Stop it!!!"&nbsp; He screamed out.<br><br>His eyes flew open to stare at a water-stained ceiling.&nbsp; He was tangled up in the blanket, his body drenched in sweat with a rather uncomfortable erection in his jeans.&nbsp; Diego's chest rose and fell as he panted, his brown eyes blinking a few times to make sure he was actually conscious.<br><br>"What the hell was that?"&nbsp; Said a female voice.<br><br>Diego looked over to see Dominique standing in the doorway to the living room.&nbsp; She was likely getting ready for work as she held a mirror in front of her face while putting on a rather deep crimson shade of lipstick.<br><br>The boy blushed slightly, turning to hide his bulge in the blanket.&nbsp; "Umm...sorry.&nbsp; Nightmare..."&nbsp; He said.<br><br>She only rolled her eyes and walked back out of the room.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>grdell</strong> on <strong>25-08-2009, 14:59:34</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Dominique felt sorry for Diego. He was probably dreaming about his fight with Marco. She knew that he wasn't telling her everything - though it wasn't unheard of for Marco to turn on somebody like that without provocation, she got the feeling that there was something more this time. She had learned to trust her feelings long ago, and it had saved her life a few times so far. But whether or not the new kid would open up to her and tell her the truth was his business. If he did, fine; if not, also fine. To tell the truth, though, she would rather that he didn't...<br><br>"I know there ain't much, but help yourself to whatever's in the fridge. Mi casa es su casa and all that," she told him as she headed out the door for work. "Just be sure to lock up when you leave. I don't want what little I got to get stolen."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ryven</strong> on <strong>25-08-2009, 22:19:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He gave a half groggy smile to the girl as she opened the door and left.&nbsp; "Sure thing, girl."&nbsp; Diego replied in part of a yawn as he tried to come to full consciousness.&nbsp; His dark mahogany eyes stared up at the imperfect ceiling, one hand resting on his chest as he thought once more about his dream and what it meant.&nbsp; He wasn't sure.&nbsp; The boy knew something was trying to send him a message whether it be his own mind or some outer force.&nbsp; He'd never really thought about things that could be considered in the realm of fantasy, but Diego was the sort of person to not count anything out either.<br><br>A groan escaped his reddish lips as he sat up on the rather dingy couch.&nbsp; His arms burst forth from the rolled blanket around him, pushing it from around his form.&nbsp; He had sweated quite a bit during the night thanks to being fully clothed while sleeping and the rather vivid dream he'd had.&nbsp; The boy didn't like sleeping in next to nothing in a stranger's or even friend's house though.&nbsp; There was something that left a vulnerability with him that he didn't want to expose.<br><br>Rough hands came up to rub his eyes, a soft groan once more emitting from his parted lips.&nbsp; He stood from the couch, gaining his sense of balance for a moment as his knees were a little shaky.&nbsp; His feet plodded, one after the other, toward the bathroom where he took his morning piss.&nbsp; Meanwhile, his mind was thinking of what to do.&nbsp; The boy's situation was a very precarious one.&nbsp; He could tell that Dominique suspected there was more, but he couldn't tell her...not even if he knew deep down she would know by that evening.&nbsp; Perhaps he was too much of a coward to reveal it or maybe he desperately grasped to the idea of having a group of people that were quickly becoming like family.&nbsp; However, that would soon be changing because he'd made a stupid mistake.&nbsp; What was happening to him?<br><br>He grabbed a quick bit of food from the kitchen.&nbsp; Nothing special, a sandwich and some stale chips.&nbsp; Once finished, he picked his hat off the floor and set it back on his head before locating his pack of cigarettes he'd 'acquired' last night.&nbsp; Diego pulled one of the slim cylinders from the pack, setting it in his lips before he grabbed a book of matches from the nearby table.&nbsp; The scent of burning sulfur filled his nostrils as the burning match lit the end of the cigarette.&nbsp; It burned to life with an orange glow as he gave it a hard puff, pulling the earthy mix of burning tobacco and chemicals into his lungs.<br><br>Diego was on his way out the door after that.&nbsp; He flipped the lock before shutting it just as Dominique asked before walking down the street with the burning cigarette between his lips.&nbsp; He wasn't sure just where to go yet or if he even wanted to face any of his fellow gang members.&nbsp; There was no telling if or what Marco told any of them.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>grdell</strong> on <strong>01-09-2009, 21:09:16</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Diego wandered the streets of the city at random for over an hour, smoking cigarettes and trying not to think. A cool breeze that had been blowing all morning suddenly turned downright cold as it blew stronger. People huddled in coats, sheltered in doorways and hailed cabs, trying to avoid the unseasonably chilly wind. The lighter detritus of the city's eternal litter problem blew about everyone as they went about their business. One piece of paper blew right up against Diego's chest and stuck there. Disgusted, he reached down to remove it. When he touched it though, he felt something odd...<br><br><em>The wind had taken on a different sound - darker and more sinister. It sounded like a wind that would blow through hell itself. The chill in the air had not changed, but the city smelled different all of the sudden. There was a smell of wet fur - almost like that familiar wet dog smell, but somehow vastly different. Much more pleasant in a pheromonal kind of way. It was a smell that Diego felt he wanted to closer to, to smell more of. He looked up and noticed the street sign: 15th Street. But he wasn't anywhere near 15th Street. A bus moved past, its advertisement-covered side proclaiming services for people dialing 1-515-1515. The bank on the corner, whose digital sign alternated between the time and the temperature, was showing that it was 15:15 o'clock and that it was 15 degrees. A digital calendar in the window of the convenience store selling lottery tickets informed Diego that it was 15-15-1515. Everywhere he looked, every number was a 15. All of the addresses, all of the phone numbers, all of the streets and signs and dates and prices. All 15's...</em><br><br>He snapped out of it, still holding the piece of paper that had blown against his chest in his hand. The street signs were back to normal, as were the calendars and clocks. The smell was gone (or at least back to the normal background odor of the city), and the wind sounded real again. He looked down at the piece of paper in his hand to find that it was a Tarot card: The Devil.<br><br>The 15th card of the Major Arcana.<br><br>Except the picture on the card wasn't the normal Rider-Waite depiction of the Devil, but clearly the furred man from his dream...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ryven</strong> on <strong>02-09-2009, 01:13:15</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The card in his hand seemed heavy...heavier than a card should be, or at least he thought it did.&nbsp; It bore something much more than just the picture it showed, and he had a feeling that whatever hallucination he just experienced was a part of it.&nbsp; He only thought about that for a split second, however.&nbsp; The vision he'd just had was still quite fresh in his mind, and Diego began to question his sanity.&nbsp; His breaths came faster in much larger amounts as the anxiety began to build inside of him.<br><br>The boy felt like crawling into a hole and closing his eyes, but there was no way to do that in a city such as this.&nbsp; There were no hiding spots for a vulnerable youth such as himself though others looking from the outside would not see him like that.&nbsp; He was scared...scared down to his core, but others only saw the street gang persona he so vigilantly kept in place.&nbsp; He could not look weak to others.&nbsp; The boy heard Marco's voice in his mind the day he was initiated...'If you're not strong then you're weak.'<br><br>Diego began walking slowly forward, his legs shaky and his mind clouded with anxiety and doubt.&nbsp; What if he was going mad?&nbsp; He'd already ruined his reputation in the gang, the only family he really had besides his grandmother, and he didn't like the life he had with her.&nbsp; The last thing he wanted was to lose his sanity.<br><br>He felt something in him give as a brief hopelessness welled up inside him.&nbsp; His eyes watered as the emotion began to overwhelm him, and not wanting to look like a deranged maniac on the street, he turned down a cross alley which lead to the street parallel to the one he turned off of.&nbsp; His steps quickened yet remained shaky as he hurried into the alley.&nbsp; A vent with steam rising up from it marked the halfway point as he approached, and full tears now rolled down his stubbled face.&nbsp; Diego wiped them from his face.&nbsp; It was weak of him or at least he learned to call it that from his time with the gang, but he couldn't help it.<br><br>Just as he stepped over the vent, he lost his footing and fell forward.&nbsp; His hands caught him though not without a bit of a scrape on each palm, the card flying forward to land face-down on the pavement.&nbsp; He growled loudly as more tears streamed down his face, blurring his vision.&nbsp; The young man slowly pulled himself up to a kneeling position as the hopeless feeling inside him reached its peak.<br><br>At that moment, a gust of wind swept through the alley, blowing dust and small debris along toward him.&nbsp; He stared down at his scraped hands which rested upward on his knees.&nbsp; The wind blew the thrown card back toward the kneeling boy, depositing it between his spread knees.&nbsp; The furred man stared back at him with a rather malevolent sneer, all the features from his dream still quite clear as day.<br><br>He couldn't control it anymore.&nbsp; Diego knew that whatever that thing was, it was doing this to him, and it wanted something from him.&nbsp; The boy's teeth gritted in anger as he turned all the hopeless feelings he had toward the creature.&nbsp; He lashed out, though not in body, but instead in voice.<br><br>"WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!!?!?!"&nbsp; He screamed in anger, wads of spit flying from his snarling mouth as he yelled the words down at the card.&nbsp; His chest panted as his stare intensified, and just as he reached for the offending object...<br><br>'Diego...'<br><br>A voice called to him, very faint, and only once.&nbsp; He looked up, seeing nothing but the end of the street, the vent steaming steadily upward behind him.<br><br>His anger died down in the distraction and the hopeless feeling he had was now gone.&nbsp; He took a few deep breaths before wiping his face with the back of his hand, making sure he looked suitable to head back out on the street.<br><br>Diego stood up once more, rubbing his hands on the sides of his jeans to wipe whatever street grime he'd accumulated off.&nbsp; He turned to walk back out on the street, leaving the card to sit on the dirty asphalt.&nbsp; The boy got halfway back to the alley entrance before he stopped, turning to look back at the card.<br><br>"Fuck..."&nbsp; He muttered under his breath before slowly walking back over to the card.&nbsp; Diego bent down, picking it up in his hand before staring at it for a long moment.<br><br>"Whoever the fuck you are...I'm going to find you and beat the shit out of you for this..."&nbsp; The boy said to the figure on the card before slipping the card into his back pocket and returning to the street to wander once more though he couldn't help but flinch upon seeing one of the apartment buildings he passed had 1515 as its number.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>grdell</strong> on <strong>14-09-2009, 19:50:58</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Yo! What up, dog?"<br><br>Anton had seen Diego come out of the alley, looking like someone had just walked over his grave. He'd heard about what had happened with Marco earlier - hell, everybody had heard of it by now - but he wanted to play it off like he hadn't. He liked the kid, thought he had real potential in the gang, and didn't want to see him kicked out over some stupid misunderstanding - Marco was famous for flying off the handle, after all. Maybe if he could get Diego's side of the story, he could de-fuse Marco a little.<br><br>"What you doin' up this end of town?"<br><br>He fell into stride next to Diego and threw a friendly arm around the younger boy's shoulders.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ryven</strong> on <strong>15-09-2009, 00:26:18</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He turned to see Anton, another member of the gang a little older than him.&nbsp; Diego didn't really want to hang out with anyone at the moment, but he didn't want to inadvertently make his situation in the gang worse.&nbsp; The young man opted to just play along for now.&nbsp; He wasn't sure if or how much Anton had heard from Marcus, so he thought he'd just not mention it until Anton brought it up.&nbsp; If he was lucky, he wouldn't bring it up at all.<br><br>"What up, man.&nbsp; Not much, not much.&nbsp; Just chillin'.&nbsp; I crashed over at Dominique's last night, so I'm just makin' my way.&nbsp; Might be at the hangout later."&nbsp; He said, trying to shrug off the past events.&nbsp; <br><br>The arm over his shoulder was vaguely comforting.&nbsp; He yearned to just be held, especially now with all the confusion he was going through.&nbsp; It was sad in a way, but he got what little comfort he could whenever possible.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>grdell</strong> on <strong>15-09-2009, 20:00:17</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Anton was well aware that he wasn't a very smart guy - he'd been reminded of it enough times by most people that knew him - and he also lacked that cunning that made someone like Marco so terribly dangerous. Without any clever resources, he realized there was probably no way to get Diego to open up about what happened this morning without asking him directly.<br><br>He stopped by the mouth of another alley, his arm still around Diego's shoulders pulling the younger boy up short. He glanced both ways, making sure no one else from their gang was anywhere close by, and pulled Diego into the narrow walkway between two sheer brick walls.<br><br>"Look, man, I don't know what happened with Marco this morning, but I know he's spittin' mad about it. I wouldn't go showin' my face anywhere he could be any time soon if I was you. What you need is someone to tell your side of the story before Marco takes it in his head to kick you out or worse, man. Tell me. What really happened?"<br><br>Anton's face was open and honest in an effort to try to gain as much of Diego's broken trust as he could. He hoped that the kid wasn't too afraid to cross Marco to tell anyone the truth of what happened.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ryven</strong> on <strong>16-09-2009, 00:05:35</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				His hopes that Anton wouldn't ask seemed to be not all together in vain.&nbsp; They'd walked a little ways down the sidewalk, maybe a block or so, and he was about to ditch the older man before he risked any more time.&nbsp; However, the older man stopped him in front of another alley.<br><br>Diego suddenly found himself being pulled into the alley.&nbsp; It was narrow and just wide enough to fit Anton's bulky frame and Diego's smaller one.&nbsp; He was now face to face with the man and quite unsure of what was going on, but the hopes he had a moment prior were shot to pieces as the question he was dreading was asked.<br><br>He hesitated.&nbsp; His eyes shifted downward to focus on some random bit of trash in the alley.&nbsp; Diego was unsure of what to do.&nbsp; Should he tell the whole truth or just enough to make his side seem more favorable?&nbsp; In all reality, what he'd done wasn't that bad, but to Marco and thus the rest of the gang, it was an inexcusable offense.<br><br>"I...man...I don't know what happened..."&nbsp; He began, his voice soft and less confident than he usually put on.<br><br>"I wasn't right.&nbsp; I didn't feel right.&nbsp; Maybe I didn't get enough sleep or maybe I'm just goin' crazy, man.&nbsp; All I know is that my time is not long..."&nbsp; He said with a sigh at the end.<br><br>He couldn't bring himself to tell in detail what happened, but what he'd said was technically true.&nbsp; The boy didn't feel right, and it was because of whatever the fuck that thing was trying to mess with him.&nbsp; He couldn't tell Anton about it though.&nbsp; He'd just be laughed at or worse.&nbsp; They'd say he was crazy...they'd think he was just playing around, and eventually, they'd see that he was not good for the gang and probably get rid of him in one way or the other.<br><br>Diego felt the overwhelming urge to just break down and cry, but again, his macho attitude held it back.&nbsp; He couldn't even express himself that way even though the only family, however twisted it was, seemed to be slipping out of his grasp.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>grdell</strong> on <strong>16-09-2009, 19:48:26</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Anton didn't like what he was hearing. Diego could not defend himself at all, just make claims that he didn't feel "right," what the hell ever that meant. Maybe he was just a little fag, Like Marco claimed.<br><br>"Shit, man, you gotta do better than that. I'm tryin' to help you here, but you gotta gimme somethin' to work with, yeah?"<br><br>He leaned back against the alley wall, his arms crossed. If Diego didn't want him helping, then he wasn't going to stick his neck out any more. Let the kid get kicked out or roughed up. It would be a fuckin' waste, but what can you do? Nothing.<br><br>As Anton leaned back against the wall, one of the tattoos on his arm caught Diego's eye - a stylized dagger. A glint of sunlight off of one of the pieces of gold hanging from a chain around his neck revealed that it, too, was a stylized dagger in exactly the same pattern. A rat bolted from underneath a heap of garbage in one corner of the alley, startled by a cat that was giving chase, and some of the trash fell in a pattern that looked just the same - the shape of that same stylized dagger. The lid of the dumpster at the mouth of the alley was propped open by some piece of trash and made that same shape...<br><br>The smell wafted on the air again. That smell of wet fur that was somehow a more powerful aphrodisiac than any musk.<br><br>And then it was gone.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ryven</strong> on <strong>17-09-2009, 15:18:16</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He sighed as Anton pried further, trying to get him to open up.&nbsp; Diego couldn't.&nbsp; He couldn't come out and tell Anton everything.&nbsp; The young man was sure it would seal his fate.&nbsp; What he didn't realize was that his fate was already sealed.&nbsp; Marco would surely make his life hell.&nbsp; He seemed like a man who would stop at nothing when crossed like that.<br><br>Diego didn't answer Anton, remaining silent. He noticed the tattoo then as the older guy's shirt rode up to reveal it on his arm.&nbsp; It matched the necklace he wore, and the young man thought it interesting that they matched.&nbsp; His dark eyes darted to notice the cat chasing a rat before falling on the dagger shaped trash.&nbsp; His heart began to race again.<br><br>"Fuck...fuck, man..."&nbsp; He said softly.&nbsp; The young man looked to the dumpster than...another dagger, and finally, the smell of wet fur blew through the alley, and his cock seemed to stir inside his pants before everything returned to normal.<br><br>"I...I gotta go, man.&nbsp; I-I'll see you around..."&nbsp; Diego said hurriedly as he left the alley and began to walk in haste away from the other man before he made another mistake.&nbsp; He didn't trust himself now.&nbsp; First Marco, then the hallucination in the alley, and now this.&nbsp; What did it all mean?&nbsp; The boy struggled for answers, and the feeling of loneliness was growing slowly.&nbsp; It seemed everyone was turning against him even though Marco seemed to be the only one to outright show it.&nbsp; He felt that Marco didn't believe him or thought his story was bullshit.&nbsp; It really didn't matter.&nbsp; At this rate, he'd be beaten and left in a gutter somewhere to die.<br><br>He pulled another smoke from his pocket to light and take a long drag from.&nbsp; It seemed they were the only friends he had at the moment.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>grdell</strong> on <strong>29-09-2009, 18:59:11</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Anton shook his head as Diego headed out of the alley. Fucking shame. He pulled a cigarette out of his own pocket, and as he stood there lighting it, he heard a sound from behind him, further back in the alley. It was generally not a good idea to investigate mysterious sounds in dark alleys anywhere in the city, but some strange urge that he could not explain made him turn to see what it was. A figure was rising from the pile of trash, and whoever it was, he was one big motherfucker. Probably at least 6'6". That meant serious trouble, and Anton knew it, but he couldn't get away. His legs refused to work and he stood helpless as the man unfolded himself before him. What Anton had at first thought was a fur coat turned out to be the man's own body hair - thick enough to be called a pelt or even fur.<br><br>The man looked at down at Anton (must be 7' at least!) with brilliant golden yellow eyes with vertical pupils like a cat's. There was no compassion or remorse in those eyes, and Anton felt like he was looking at his own death. The man moved forward and Anton realized that he was naked and that the fur covered his entire body. He thought for a moment that it had to be Bigfoot...<br><br>One enormous hand grasped Anton by the neck and hoisted him effortlessly off the ground and held him against the wall, about two feet from the ground, with all the power of a steel vice. This sudden action against him was enough to break his paralysis and he found he could speak - well, gasp, anyway - once more.<br><br>"What... are... you?"<br><br>"I am no one you need concern yourself with." His voice was deep and resonant and strangely cultured and gave off an unmistakeable air of absolute authority. In spite of his being staunchly heterosexual and in a position of absolute vulnerability, there was something about the man's voice (and smell, that strange musk-like scent of wet fur that was somehow the most alluring thing he had ever smelled in his whole life) that made his dick come to full erection so fast it was painful. "But I require your service."<br><br>"Anything... for you... My Liege..." Where the fuck had those words come from? Anton didn't even know what a "Liege" was. What he did know was that if this great beast of a man had told him he wanted Anton's ass, he would give it up willingly.<br><br>"You will be my eyes in this world." He brought his other hand (only now did Anton see the size of the claws - for claws they were - on the ends of his huge fingers) up toward Anton's face, and Anton only had time to draw in one ragged breath to scream with before he saw what the beast man intended to do. And then he saw no more.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ryven</strong> on <strong>29-09-2009, 23:32:14</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Diego walked down the street oblivious as to what was happening in the alley he'd just left.&nbsp; His right hand fingered the thin plastic which still surrounded the pack of opened smokes in his pocket.&nbsp; "Fuck it..."&nbsp; He whispered, pulling them out along with the matchbook which was tucked just inside the loose clear polyurethane.&nbsp; The young man didn't smoke much, but he was pretty stressed out right now.&nbsp; He pulled one of the thinly covered shafts of tobacco from the pack, placing it between two pinkish trembling lips.&nbsp; The brilliant burst of light followed by the heated flame of the burning match followed, making the end smolder and the earthy scent of burning tobacco fill his nostrils.<br><br>He kept walking slowly, cigarette firmly placed between his lips.&nbsp; Diego probably wandered for the majority of the day, and it wasn't until the sun hung low, dipping below the skyline, that he noticed he had made his way back to the hangout.&nbsp; It was just in view as he leaned against the corner of a darkened building.&nbsp; Three figures were standing outside, two of which were smoking, and the third held a bottle of what the young man only assumed was some sort of alcoholic beverage.&nbsp; From their dress, he saw they were part of the gang.&nbsp; Jaco, Dominique, and Tyrell or Ty for short.&nbsp; They seemed to be hanging out though they talked between themselves a bit.&nbsp; Diego couldn't quite make anything out, but both Jaco and Ty seemed to be trying to convince Dominique of something.<br><br>He couldn't help but think that the conversation was about him.&nbsp; Dominique seemed to shake her head and shrug as she turned to head back into the building, but as she did, the door opened.&nbsp; Marco stepped out wearing his baggy jeans and a sleeveless t-shirt.&nbsp; The three of them seemed to stiffen, and Diego as well even though he wasn't near.&nbsp; Marco seemed only to spell bad news for him, and even from this distance, he could tell that the man was still angry about something.&nbsp; Maybe a day to stew things over only made him realize that he had to get rid of Diego.&nbsp; The young man wouldn't run though, at least not until he thought he was truly done with the gang.&nbsp; He couldn't face Marco tonight though.<br><br>He sank back behind the building to walk the opposite direction.&nbsp; Diego wasn't sure where he was going, but it was another hour before sleep seemed to overwhelm him.&nbsp; He knew the neighborhood he was in.&nbsp; It was decently safe, so he sank into an alley.&nbsp; Tonight wouldn't be the best night, but he'd spent nights like this before...back when he had a hand in dealing drugs.&nbsp; It was only for a short time, but he needed money.&nbsp; In the shadows of the alley, he sank to the dirty asphalt, leaning against the brick of the building.&nbsp; The boy pulled his hat down over his eyes before crossing his arms over his chest.&nbsp; Sleep was near, and he could feel it though he wasn't sure just how much he'd get, partly because of the uncomfortable nature of where he was and partly because of the mysterious figure haunting him in every waking moment...and his dreams as well.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>grdell</strong> on <strong>07-10-2009, 01:02:07</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				As Diego drifts off to sleep, he hears the voice again. But this time, it is faint and weak, as if coming from a greater distance than before.<br><br>"Diego... Come to me..."<br><br>He can see nothing but blackness, no furred man beckoning, until a faint orange gleam catches his eye. He sees a stunted bush with a single coppery orange rose growing from its thorny depths. The rose glows gently in the darkness, seeming to pulse with an unknown energy. Diego leans in to smell the rose, and catches the scent that he has come to associate with the furred man - an exotic musk reminiscent of wet fur that is so much more appealing than any aphrodisiac. Without knowing quite why he is doing it, he reaches forward and plucks the rose from the bush, and suddenly, he is surrounded by orange light. He is reminded of the bright fluorescent orange of the safety cones used by the DOT when men are working on the roads... He can almost see them... The men with their backs bent as they dig in the road for something... Wearing orange vests surrounded by orange cones...<br><br>Sweaty, muscular men... Men who belch and fart and drink beer and tell dirty jokes to pretty girls passing by. Men that Diego never would have thought he could ever be attracted to are suddenly turned into the most alluring creatures he has ever imagined by the orange light. He feels his cock stiffen in his pants, painful against the denim.<br><br>One of the men stops his work and straightens to an impossible height. Diego instantly recognizes the furred man.<br><br>"All that you desire shall be yours... You shall be placed at my right hand, and you shall be adored..."<br><br>The furred man's cock is now also erect, pointing directly at Diego with its purple head throbbing, leaking copious amounts of pre-cum and making it glisten.<br><br>The cones are gone, the workmen are gone, the orange light is fading - but still the furred man holds out his hands to Diego, beckoning him forward, into his embrace. Against his furry chest and his enormous cock. It is an idea that Diego finds almost irresistible...<br><br>The light fades further, until it is no more than that of a single candle burning in the darkness, still coming from the rose.<br><br>The voice, once more faint and distant.<br><br>"Find me, Diego... Find me and know true contentment..."<br><br>* * *<br><br>Diego woke with a start in the chilly pre-dawn. The rumble of the city's never-ending traffic just beyond the mouth of the alley assured him that he was back in the familiar territory of the realm of the awake. He went to rub his hands together for the scant warmth such action would afford when he realized he was holding something. He looked, but it was too dark in the alley to see. He began to feel it when he was suddenly stuck with something sharp. Getting up and moving to the mouth of the alley where the light from a streetlamp glowed, he saw with astonishment that it was a rose. A single orange rose...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>grdell</strong> on <strong>07-10-2009, 16:54:24</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Anton's memory was unclear as to what exactly had happened after Diego left the alley. The only thing he was sure of was waking up some time later from an awkward sprawl on the ground. Had Diego laid him out? He didn't remember a fight... But he did vaguely remember a presence, and a smell, something like wet dog but nicer, better... Something that made his pecker squirm thinking about it.<br><br>He wandered aimlessly, his mind in a fog, until he saw a building he recognized - Dominique's house. Something was strange, though... Everything seemed to have a slightly orange cast to it, as if he were wearing orange-tinted sunglasses. Everything except the front door of D's house, which stood out distinctly blue. The door itself was not blue, but against the orange light that seemed to hang over everything, it sure looked that way. He approached the house to find the door standing slightly ajar and looking forced. Suddenly the fog in his mind was gone. Someone had broken in to D's house and that was NOT cool. He wished he had a gun with him, but all he had was his jackknife. He approached cautiously, as silently as he could and listened at the door. Voices... a man and a woman, although the woman was not Dominique.<br><br>He pushed the door open slowly, praying that it wouldn't creak, and it didn't, thank the saints. He moved into the foyer, keeping his eyes and ears peeled for anything. In the front room he could see a woman lying mostly on the floor, her upper body leaning against the wall. She was bloody from a few cuts but still recognizable as Francine - Dominique's mother. There were also two men - very tall and very thin wearing identical ankle-length black coats and black fedoras. They seemed to be bald, with very pale skin. And they were surrounded with a nimbus of dark blue light. A thought drifted unbidden to Anton's mind: agents of the Followers of the Hand. He had no idea what that meant, but got a very strong feeling that they were <em>very</em> bad news. One of them was speaking to Francine in a high, whispery voice that didn't sound entirely human while the other moved about the room, examining things. He moved awkwardly, as if unused to his own body.<br><br>"I don't know who you mean," Francine sobbed petulantly.<br><br>"Oh, he was here. I can feel it. And you will tell us where he went, yes? For is it not written that 'The Princeling shall come unto the court of the Umber King/And all shall come to ruin in fair Midian'?"<br><br>"The Words of the Book," said the one wandering the room, almost reverentially. "Verses 16 and 17 of the Final Prophecy of Ruination."<br><br>"Well said, Mr. Vane. Well said, indeed." The man talking to Francine held a wicked-looking knife, much longer than Anton's own jackknife. Anton didn't want to fight the men - not out of any cowardice, but something about them just seemed <em>wrong</em>, somehow.<br><br>The one called Mr. Vane was sniffing the couch when he suddenly looked up. "Mr. Quick! Here! The scent of the Chosen One! The Princeling was here! Here on this very lounge!"<br><br>"Ah, there. You see? We find out after all that he was here, in spite of everything you have said." Without taking his eyes from the woman on the floor he addressed Mr. Vane. "How long ago?"<br><br>Mr. Vane inhaled deeply. "The night before last. He slept here and he sweat here. His scent is strong but stale. He dreamed. He dreamed of the Umber King. It is in his sweat."<br><br>"I wasn't even here two nights ago!" wailed Francine. "You'd have to ask my daughter. She was here." Francine hung her head, as if in shame.<br><br><em>So you should, you bitch</em>, thought Anton. <em>Selling out D like that.</em><br><br>"And where is she? Your daughter? You will tell us, yes? And we will find out where the Chosen One has gone. Where the Princeling is hiding and searching for the way into Midian. He must not find it."<br><br>"Must not," replied Mr. Vane.<br><br>"We are only trying to protect our way of life. Surely you must see that. If the Princeling comes unto the court of the Umber King, everything we know, everything we are shall fall into dust."<br><br>"Dust," echoed Mr. Vane, now standing directly behind Mr. Quick.<br><br>"I don't know what you're talking about. Dominique is probably with her friends - I don't know where."<br><br>"No matter. We shall follow her scent. She will tell us what we need to know. As for you - sleep. Sleep and forget." Mr. Quick passed his hand over Francine's face, and she fell instantly unconscious.<br><br>The two men moved toward the front door, walking stiffly, their arms not moving. Anton knew somehow that he must not be seen, and crouched down behind a table, watching as the men left the house, not bothering to close the door behind them.<br><br>Dominique! They're going after Dominique! He wanted nothing more than to follow them and make sure D would be all right, but there was also Francine lying unconscious in the next room. He quickly moved into the front room, picked up the woman and laid her on the couch.<br><br>"Francie! Wake up Francie!" He shook her shoulder while he looked her over. All the cuts were superficial, nothing that wouldn't heal up on their own well enough. It looked like the men just wanted to scare her, not actually hurt her. She came around slowly, much too slowly for Anton's taste, as he was itching to be after her assailants. When she looked up at him, he could see the recognition on her face followed by stark horror. "What happened to your eyes, Anton? Your eyes!"<br><br>He had no idea what she meant, so he went to look in the bathroom mirror. The dark brown eyes that he had been born with were gone - replaced by ones with golden yellow irises far larger than a human's with a vertical pupil like a cat's.<br><br>What the hell did happen to me in that alley? He thought as he stared at his reflection, his strange new eyes wide. Did Diego have something to do with this?<br><br><em>Diego has everything to do with this</em>, came a voice in his head, quiet but insistent. <em>And you must protect him from the Followers of the Hand. He must find his way into Midian.</em><br><br>Anton had no idea what was going on. Whose voice was that in his head? What had happened to his eyes? Who were these strange men? Too many questions. But he knew one thing for sure. The strange men - these "Followers of the Hand" - had roughed up Francine and were now going after Dominique. And that was NOT cool.<br><br>He'd talk to Diego later. For now, he had to follow them and stop them from getting to D. He had to protect his own.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ryven</strong> on <strong>08-10-2009, 05:20:57</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He shivered slightly as his eyes settled on the rose in his hand, a small trickle of crimson blood coursing slowly down the length of his finger.&nbsp; His brown eyes widened when he realized what it was, and the images of the dream were so vivid in his mind.&nbsp; His cock throbbed with a case of nearly painful morning wood as the picture of the furred man, standing tall and exposed for him.&nbsp; Diego wanted to touch the man, press his body against the larger furred form.&nbsp; He wanted to feel it against his skin, nuzzle against it, smell that particular scent...<br><br>Diego then remembered he was holding the rose, his eyes focusing on the orange petals, forgetting that he was still bleeding.&nbsp; A few drops had fallen to the pavement below to dry on the filthy ground as he brought the rose to his nostrils and breathed in the exotic scent of wet fur.&nbsp; It sent a twitch to his cock and made him groan slightly.&nbsp; "Who are you?"&nbsp; He said softly, longingly so.&nbsp; It was much different than he said it the other day in anger.&nbsp; If he <em>was</em> going crazy, his brain sure picked a rather weird, yet enticing way to go about it.&nbsp; With one last sniff of the hormone inducing scent, he slipped the rose back into his pocket.<br><br>The boy took that moment to then bring his finger up and suck the wound into his mouth, the coppery taste of blood seeping onto his tongue.&nbsp; He wiped the remaining trail of warm, red fluid on his jeans as he had nothing other than those to deal with the small wound.&nbsp; Diego sighed softly before reaching into his other pocket for the pack of cigarettes he'd kept there since he pulled them from the corner store.&nbsp; As he did, he groaned softly in discomfort.&nbsp; The boy's neck ached from having been turned in such an uncomfortable position all night.&nbsp; Diego turned it to one said awkwardly, the tell-tale sound of cracking joints soon following.&nbsp; "Aggh...fuck..."&nbsp; He spoke softly again as relief washed through him.<br><br>He pulled the pack of smokes from his pocket, finally, pulling one to his lips and holding it in place while his hand dove for the pack of matches, and soon the end smoldered with heat as he sucked in the strong smoke from the unhealthy thing to mingle in his lungs and warm him against the chilling breeze of the cold morning.&nbsp; The young man leaned against the brick side of the building, his mind wandering back to the dream.<br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=44978.msg2314044#msg2314044">Quote from: grdell on 07-10-2009, 01:02:07</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">"Find me, Diego... Find me and know true contentment..."<br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>The words echoed in his head as he kept thinking about it. 'How the fuck am I supposed to find you...whoever you are?'&nbsp; He asked himself in his thoughts.&nbsp; It was still too early for him to really think clearly.&nbsp; One hand came up to rub his eyes as the end of the cigarette burned bright orange while he took another long drag.&nbsp; With half the thing gone, he dropped it to the ground, snubbing it out with his foot before he pushed off the wall to step out into the dawning sun.&nbsp; It felt warm on his skin, taking the initial chill from waking in the dirty alley away and leaving a much more comfortable feeling flowing over him.<br><br>Diego began to walk then, moving through the street to make his way back to the hideout.&nbsp; He might as well deal with whatever shit was going to happen because it didn't seem like it was going to blow over quickly if at all.&nbsp; Maybe he can reason with some of them if Marco wasn't there, and if he was...well, he'd deal with that when the time came.&nbsp; He might be finding himself leaving for good after that.&nbsp; Little did he know, that Marco was not the most dangerous threat to him at the time for two dark figures were on their way to find him.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>grdell</strong> on <strong>11-11-2009, 20:27:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The Umber King slouched down in his throne.<br><br>"Something amiss, my liege?" asked Salacia from her table at the foot of the stairs. Her head turned to look at him, her neck moving at strange angles as her nearly boneless limbs moved sinuously over the cards.<br><br>The Umber King did not trust Salacia. He felt that she knew more than she told him. But she was undoubtedly the best reader in Midian, and he could not ignore her advice completely.<br><br>"What do the cards tell you?" He asked in a nakedly malicious and hostile tone. The Followers of the Hand's involvement had his nerves on edge.<br><br>Salacia flinched as if slapped at his tone. Her arms flowed over the table, mixing the cards in her usual disturbing way. Her fingers, moving like earthworms, grasped three and turned them over.<br><br>"A new element seems to have been introduced into the Chosen One's quest. Something dark and dangerous pursues him."<br><br>"Will he still be able to find his way into Midian on his own?"<br><br>"If he is nimble of limb and of mind and true of heart, none may bar his way. But he lacks the necessary faith in himself. I foresee disaster and ruin if none help him to find the path."<br><br>The Umber King smashed one fist down on the arm of his throne. "Damn it all!"<br><br>"What do you know, my king?" Salacia's eyes were hooded - it was impossible to tell her exact meaning from her tone alone.<br><br>He reacted quicker than he would have liked to, answering her question before he had fully considered it. "The Followers of the Hand have taken an interest in stopping Diego from finding Midian. Their misinterpretation of the prophecies will undo us all."<br><br>Salacia regarded the cards once more. "Who is to say which interpretation of a prophecy is true or not?" she murmured.<br><br>* * *<br><br>Anton felt that it was of dire importance to find Diego for reasons that he could not articulate, but he understood fully the need to find Dominique. If these creeps were after her - most likely to do to her what they did to her mother - than he had to find her first. He didn't know for sure, of course, exactly where she was, but he had a pretty good idea.<br><br>He headed for the hangout under the bar at as fast a walk as he could without downright running.<br><br>* * *<br><br>Mr. Quick and Mr. Vane were also heading for the basement hangout, following Mr. Vane's very reliable nose. They would find the girl, and make her tell them of the location of the Princeling. Mr. Quick, not known for his patience, was tiring of the search already. They would find the Chosen One and they would kill him. Only in that way could Midian's future be assured.<br><br>Only then could they know peace.<br><br>* * *<br><br>Marco was lifting again. It seemed to Dominique that that was all the man ever did. Eat, shit, fuck his whore, and lift weights. What a fucking waste of skin. Of course, he was hot as hell, but he was also a world-league asshole, so, on balance, she could take him or leave him. She was lounging in one of the big easy chairs in the corner, trying to ignore Jaco's not very subtle attempts at flirting with her. Jaco would just have to be happy with his good old right hand tonight, as he was every night, since there was no way in hell she was going to let a little greasebag like Jaco fuck her.<br><br>But, to tell the truth, she liked the attention. She liked the sense of control it gave her to shoot down all the guys that came calling. So she sat in her chair and felt on top of the world. There was nothing that she couldn't control. Nothing at all.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ryven</strong> on <strong>12-11-2009, 23:45:45</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The walk was long, or at least it seemed that way from the bitter chill that blew in the wind.&nbsp; Diego kept his hands stuffed deep in his pockets as he moved down the barren street.&nbsp; It seemed eerie.&nbsp; No one was around as if the place had been deserted.<br><br>The wind blew against him, the cold chill washing over his skin to make his lips quiver and his teeth chatter.&nbsp; He fingered the orange petals of the rose in his pocket, letting his mind wander back to the dream and the smell of musk and wet fur.&nbsp; It was becoming an obsession to him.&nbsp; The young man wondered how long it would take before he went completely crazy.<br><br>It didn't seem to take long to get back to the corner he'd been at last night where he'd spied Jaco and Dominique talking outside the hideout.&nbsp; A sense of dread filled him, and it culminated with a deep ache in the pit of his stomach.&nbsp; For some reason, he didn't think things were going to go well, and not just because Marco was likely to be there.<br><br>The wind seemed to blow a little harder now, blowing against Diego in the opposite direction of the hangout.&nbsp; Nothing was going to stop him from going in though.&nbsp; He couldn't keep avoiding them.&nbsp; Perhaps it was a sense of honor or maybe the fact that he might be able to clear things up, but he felt that he needed to confront the problem and be done with it.&nbsp; He wouldn't run away with just a small scare like that.&nbsp; No, he wanted to hear Marco tell him...threaten him even, then the rest of them would see just how expendable they were.&nbsp; It didn't matter if what he had done or tried to do was true or not.&nbsp; It was a small matter which wasn't worth this kind of trouble.<br><br>The boy shivered as he stepped out from around the corner, the shadow of the building hiding him from the morning sun.&nbsp; He walked down the sidewalk until he was across the street from the bar, it's lights dead at this time of morning, but the door remained unlocked for those who would enter though anyone caught inside at the wrong time would be in for a world of pain.<br><br>Diego quickly crossed the barren street, eager to get out of the chilling wind.&nbsp; He pulled the door open, it's metallic handle icy in his hand.&nbsp; The boy entered quickly, the heavy door swinging closed behind him to shut out the biting cold.&nbsp; It was weird.&nbsp; The weather hadn't seemed all that bad before though suddenly the temperature dropped and the wind picked up.&nbsp; <br><br>The room was empty and dim.&nbsp; The only light shining was the eerie red glow of the exit sign behind him and one lone safety light at the stairwell door to light the path down.&nbsp; Diego moved slowly to the bar, grabbing it for support as he felt the ache in his stomach swell.&nbsp; It's surface was weathered but clean, the dim red light reflecting from its dark lacquered top.&nbsp; He slowly walked down the length toward the door, his footsteps silent on the stained concrete floor.<br><br>His hand left the bar though it found its way to the door frame at the stairwell.&nbsp; He looked down the steps at the heavy black door, an obelisk which hid his enemies and his fate.&nbsp; The ache in his stomach was panging&nbsp; &nbsp;rhythmically, but the boy ignored it.&nbsp; He had to do this.&nbsp; Diego stepped into the stairwell, his legs pulling him along to descend each step.&nbsp; The landing at the bottom came almost too quickly for his comfort.<br><br>He brought his hand up to give the code knock, but just as he was about to knock, he hesitated.&nbsp; Something didn't feel right, but he couldn't tell what.&nbsp; The boy gritted his teeth and forced his hand to impact the door, the code knock being banged out many times as it had before.&nbsp; The wait began, painful and torturous as it was.&nbsp; It almost seemed like no one was there.&nbsp; It didn't do much to help the ache deep in his core either.<br><br>The door finally swung open, a surge of adrenaline following as he met Jaco's face which was a mask of surprise and confusion.&nbsp; Diego stepped in, Jaco retreating from him.&nbsp; His own face was stony and cold.&nbsp; He was unsure of what to expect.&nbsp; His dark eyes met Dominique who seemed to look with interest and wonder, but Marco was what caught his attention next.<br><br>"What now, fag?&nbsp; You back for more?"&nbsp; His voice came aggressive and dripping with male ego.<br><br>"What?&nbsp; I can't come here no more?&nbsp; I thought I was part of the gang."&nbsp; Diego replied without a waver in his voice.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>grdell</strong> on <strong>18-11-2009, 19:43:20</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Anton's head was spinning. He'd passed the Followers of the Hand - he could see their dark blue auras standing out against the orange light that seemed to surround almost everything else - so he was confident that he would reach the hangout first. What would he do when he got there, though? Just grab Dominique and drag her out of there? How likely would she come willingly? Even if he told her about her mother, he wasn't so sure she would come. D and her mother didn't exactly get along all that well.<br><br>His pace was draining him. He wasn't in bad shape, but he'd never power walked this far before. He didn't want to outright run - that attracted too much attention, especially from cops - so he had little choice. He'd fished out his sunglasses and put them on to hide his eyes from passersby, but they didn't seem to be doing anything to hinder this strange new vision of his in any way.<br><br>Something brighter than the rest stood out and he looked up just in time to see Diego entering the bar through the front door. The boy had an orange nimbus, as everything else did ever since he woke up in that alley, but his was far brighter. He looked like he was on fire. To have both Dominique and Diego in the hangout together was either going to make things very simple or very, very difficult. The Followers of the Hand were after both of them - although if they found Diego first, they might not be interested in D any more, he didn't know for sure - and there they both were, in the same place.<br><br><em>Christ!</em><br><br>Anton had never been an especially quick thinker, but he knew he had to come up with something fast, as he was quickly approaching the basement door that gave more direct access to the hangout.<br><br>* * *<br><br>Marco stood ramrod-straight, his massive chest and shoulders overshadowing even Diego's own impressive build.<br><br>"Hear that everyone? He thinks he's part of the gang." Marco stuck one hand out, the index finger pushing into Diego's chest hard enough to hurt. "Listen here, you little faggot -"<br><br>"Leave him alone, Marco," came a familiar female voice, cutting off the gang leader mid-threat. Marco turned, an expression of stunned disbelief on his face - she interrupted him? - to see Dominique sauntering toward them. "We haven't heard the kid's side of the story yet."<br><br>Dominique was wearing that expression that threatened anyone to contradict her with sharp retribution. Sharper than most of these simple gang toughs could handle. Marco was not intimidated by any girl, though.<br><br>"We don't need to hear the kid's side. You all heard my side, and I'm in charge, right? This ain't no demo-cracky."<br><br>Dominique rolled her eyes. "It's pronounced 'democracy' you dumbass." She leaned in close and whispered just loud enough for Marco and Diego to hear. "Besides -"<br><br>What D had been planning to say would forever go unsaid as Anton burst into the hangout at that moment. The sound of the door being thrown wide and rebounding off the wall made almost everyone jump and pull whatever weapon they had handy. Anton looked like a madman in sunglasses and was shouting even as he came through the door.<br><br>"D, come on, we gotta get outta here! You too, Diego! Run!"<br><br>Marco looked at Anton like he was worth less than garbage. "No way, man. The kid and I got something we gotta finish. And precious little Dominique needs to learn her fuckin' place."<br><br>Anton, who had not stopped running since he burst through the door, slammed full-body into Marco, knocking them both to the floor. "Run, Diego! Get home, D! Your momma's been hurt!"<br><br>In the struggle, Marco had managed to wrench Anton's sunglasses from his face. His cry of "What the FUCK?!" could be heard over the commotion.<br><br>Anton looked at Diego and said once more "Run!" Diego could see Anton's eyes, with gold irises and vertical-slit pupils, were exactly like those of the furred man...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ryven</strong> on <strong>23-11-2009, 17:12:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The finger pushed against his chest, through his shirt and into his skin.&nbsp; It hurt.&nbsp; It seemed even Marco's fingers had been worked out.&nbsp; Diego didn't move though.&nbsp; All he could do was stare with his dark brown eyes at the dark skinned young man spouting insults.&nbsp; He gritted his teeth.&nbsp; This was going to be hard, but he had to do it.&nbsp; There was no other way, but for some reason, he felt something bad was going to happen.&nbsp; Not something like a fight, but something...possibly worse.<br><br>Dominique's voice cut through the air like a well-crafted sword.&nbsp; Marco wasn't the only one who was stunned.&nbsp; Diego's eyes moved to land on the girl.&nbsp; He reminded himself to thank her later, but he still didn't have anything good to tell them other than he was going crazy.&nbsp; It seemed either way would have gotten him thrown out of the gang or killed.&nbsp; Marco didn't seem like a man to let things go so easily, so the young man was betting more on one than the other.<br><br>Diego held back a laugh as their leader was corrected.&nbsp; After all, it wasn't education level that got a gang leader to his or her place of power, it was being the strongest.&nbsp; Dominique leaned in close then.&nbsp; She began to say something, and Diego was listening quite intently for what she had to say.&nbsp; It would never come though.<br><br>A loud crash was heard, metal slamming into concrete as the door burst open.&nbsp; Diego turned, eyes wide in sudden shock as Anton burst into the room.&nbsp; His heart raced, and he began to settle his heart.&nbsp; He wouldn't get to, however.<br><br>"What?"&nbsp; He said more to himself than to Anton.&nbsp; The man seemed in a furious hurry and quite serious, but what were they running from.&nbsp; He wouldn't have much time to contemplate it as Anton slammed into Marco, knocking him to the floor.&nbsp; <br><br>In their shuffle on the floor, Anton's sunglasses were knocked free.&nbsp; The young man looked directly at Diego, and as he looked back, his own eyes went wide.&nbsp; His eyes were gold with slitted pupils.&nbsp; Diego suddenly smelled musk and wet fur.&nbsp; "H-how..."&nbsp; He started to say, but the overwhelming urge to run overcame him.&nbsp; Diego nodded once.&nbsp; "Thank you, Anton."<br><br>He turned and ran out the door, his feet moving fast up the steps.&nbsp; Diego headed directly for the outer door which he pushed open, the chill of the morning air hitting him again.&nbsp; It was only two steps out into the daylight when a hand grabbed his shirt.&nbsp; He turned to look.&nbsp; The owner of the hand had pale skin and wore a long black trench coat with fedora atop his head.<br><br>"We have him, Mr. Quick."&nbsp; Said the man.<br><br>A voice behind him replied though Diego was to busy wondering who they were and what they wanted to hear correctly.&nbsp; The sudden overwhelming urge to escape overcame him.&nbsp; They were bad news...very bad, and he couldn't explain why.<br><br>His hand clenched into a fist, and without warning, Diego brought the prepared hand up to strike a right hook to the man's face.&nbsp; He went falling back, the hand releasing his shirt.&nbsp; The young man was surprised for only a fraction of a second at what he'd done, but he soon began to run.<br><br>He ran...and ran...and ran......and ran.&nbsp; He wasn't sure where or how far, but he kept running until his chest hurt...until his lungs burned.&nbsp; He had made it to a part of town he'd never been to before when he slowed.&nbsp; Diego moved to the corner of a building, leaning on it as he heaved breaths.&nbsp; One hand reached into his pocket, fingering out his cigarettes.&nbsp; Only one left.&nbsp; He popped it out, slipping it between his lips before lighting it and taking a rather long drag from it.&nbsp; A slight cough came from him as his lungs were still yearning for oxygen, but he held it back to let the calming sensation of the nicotine overtake him.<br><br>With the cigarette between his lips, he reached back into his pocket, pulling out the rose this time.&nbsp; It still held its brilliant orange color.&nbsp; He brought it to his nose, sniffing at his heavily.&nbsp; The scent of musk and wet fur once more wafted into his nostrils before mingling with the smoke from his cigarette.&nbsp; It was a little tattered though.&nbsp; All the movement from his running had rubbed the petals loose, and one fell to the ground to be blown away by the wind.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>grdell</strong> on <strong>03-12-2009, 21:51:35</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The delicate rose petal drifted away on the light breeze, heading in no apparent direction. Diego watched it for a second, but just before he disregarded it, it flashed brilliantly, as a mirror reflecting a glint of sunlight. He felt compelled to follow it...<br><br>* * *<br><br>Salacia writhed in the bedchamber of her mistress, as her sex was filled and her pleasure centers teased. Mistress knew what she liked, yes she did. Salacia's limbs moved over the silken sheets like snakes as she shuddered in pleasure.<br><br>"Now, mistress. Now the Princeling is vulnerable, confused," she panted out in between moans and groans of indescribable ecstasy. "He can be guided... in any direction you wish... The Umber King may not bar your influence... at this time..."<br><br>The darkness shifted and a vague impression of eyes of the deepest cobalt blue could be seen. Sibilant hisses filled the air and Salacia felt herself abandoned.<br><br>"Please, mistress. Please..." she all but sobbed as her pleasure was taken from her. "It has been so long..."<br><br>The eyes flashed as they narrowed, as the hisses intensified and the room grew cold.<br><br>"No, mistress, I didn't mean... Please forgive me, I did not intend to offend... No, please..."<br><br>She felt herself filled again, but this time it was a violation, not a pleasing. This time she was filled until she felt she would burst from it, and she began to scream. When her mouth opened, however, that was filled as well, leaving her breathless and voiceless. Her eyes bulged as she was forced to watch her mistress rape every orifice of her boneless body. Her penance for having spoken out of turn.<br><br>* * *<br><br>The Umber King had means of his own, means that that damnable snake-woman knew nothing of, thank the thirteen dark gods. He was intently watching the scene unfold in the gang hideout as Anton bore down on Marco and urged Diego to escape even as Salacia was being punished sexually. He would have appreciated knowing about this scene, but would not have diverted his attention from Diego even he could. He saw Diego run away from the gang hangout, and knew that he would no longer be welcome there. He now had to come to Midian, or die trying. He had nowhere else to go.<br><br>* * *<br><br>The rose petal fluttered down street after street, carried by breezes that both chilled and warmed Diego as he followed its path. He would occasionally catch the scent that he had by now become so familiar with, and it lifted his heart in some unknown and unknowable way.<br><br>The breezes died suddenly, leaving the rose petal to fall gently to the ground just before a grand old house. This part of the city was unknown to Diego, but it seemed like it had seen very much better days. The houses were large, but in decay and disrepair.<br><br>It sent a chill shiver down Diego's spine when he saw that the number on the house he now stood before was 15.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ryven</strong> on <strong>04-12-2009, 03:03:57</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				His brown eyes followed the orange petal as it danced along the concrete.&nbsp; Diego was going to move away, letting the petal fly where it may go, but just as he turned, the orange petal reflected the rays of the sun in a brilliant flash of coppery luminescence.&nbsp; The young man's eyes moved back to it quickly, widening a bit as he saw it.&nbsp; The grasp on the rose in his hand faltered, and the wind knocked it free from his hand to fall to the ground.&nbsp; His mind was elsewhere, so Diego didn't notice that he'd dropped it.&nbsp; All he wanted to do was...follow the petal.<br><br>He chased the fluttering petal which always seemed to be just out of his reach.&nbsp; It was like some sort of game though he was the only player...or the only player he knew of.&nbsp; His hand reached for it, but the velvety orange petal slipped through his fingers to be pulled along street after street.&nbsp; He'd already ran so far, not that he noticed right now, but he was reaching more suburban areas of the city.&nbsp; Buildings were becoming a bit more sparse as residential neighborhoods made up the majority of the scenery.<br><br>The wind continued to blow though, and had the young man stopped to think about it, he would probably have thought it odd that the wind was warm and cold, as if the natural air was being helped along by some unseen force.&nbsp; The familiar scent of wet fur and musk was in the air as well.&nbsp; It was another sign...or another hallucination.&nbsp; He wasn't sure.&nbsp; Reality blurred together which Diego was beginning to just accept.&nbsp; Things couldn't get much worse, plus the smell kind of turned him on.<br><br>He chased the petal through sparsely populated streets, and he actually chuckled at once when the petal escaped him again.&nbsp; For some reason, this little chase made him happy.&nbsp; The boy had no idea why, but he liked it.&nbsp; However, just as his happiness seemed to arrive, the petal fell to the concrete sidewalk before a large house.&nbsp; All the houses here were large, but this one seemed of particular interest.&nbsp; Again, he couldn't explain why.<br><br>The boy reached for the petal with one arm, taking it between his fingers.&nbsp; "Gotcha!"&nbsp; He exclaimed to himself with a smile.&nbsp; The petal was pocketed into his jeans quickly, and for once, he actually took sight of his surroundings.&nbsp; The neighborhood was unfamiliar.&nbsp; In fact, he never remembered being there before.&nbsp; There was no street sign nor any familiar landmarks.&nbsp; Just houses and trees.<br><br>The young man looked up at the dilapidated property.&nbsp; Shutters hung by just a single hinge while others hand long since fallen off.&nbsp; Windows were cracked or missing all together, and the porch looked rather sketchy in its structure.&nbsp; The lawn was overgrown with weeds and layers of leaves from autumns long since past to pile up and be overtaken by the rampant growth of the grass.&nbsp; Bushes hugged the perimeter of the house to grow in uncontrolled patterns with god only knows what living within them.&nbsp; The paint, what was left of it, had faded from a serene robin's egg blue to a peeling and cracking greyish color like that of an overcast sky, and the roof was missing shingles in more than a few places.<br><br>What caught his eye the most though was the number peeking over the bushes next to the front door.&nbsp; They were made of metal and nailed to the front of the house but their brass luster had long since been tarnished away.&nbsp; The number 15...as he'd seen before.&nbsp; It made him shiver, and suddenly, the wind seemed to chill him more than before.&nbsp; He wrapped his arms around himself, and the sudden urge to to into the house was overwhelming.<br><br>Diego fought to turn back, but his legs took him forward.&nbsp; He stepped onto the walkway which was now carpeted with foliage which only revealed the stony path below here and there as he stepped closer.&nbsp; The steps to the porch looked old and menacing, large and ornate though tattered and weathered as they were.&nbsp; He cautioned a step which creaked from his weight, but it held him still.&nbsp; Slowly he ascended them one by one, six short steps until he stood upon the precipice just a few feet away from the door where that number taunted him to come closer.<br><br>He took a few steps before his leg faltered.&nbsp; His knee was weak, but he caught himself.&nbsp; The boy swallowed hard before venturing forth again, two steps more...then a third...and one final to reach the door.&nbsp; The screen door was painted white though it was dirty and cracked, stained orange in places from the rust that had befallen the metal screen that was still attached.&nbsp; Diego reached for the handle, taking it in his fingers to pull.&nbsp; It creaked in protest, but it opened nonetheless for him.<br><br>The door beyond was heavy and painted the same white as the screen door.&nbsp; It was cracked and scuffed up with dirt here and there.&nbsp; The knocker was still firmly attached in the middle.&nbsp; It looked like a grotesque gargoyle's head with spiral horns sprouting from it's forehead, and in its mouth held the loop of the heavy weight which once was used to gain entry.&nbsp; Now, any inhabitants had long since left.<br><br>Diego reached for the knob.&nbsp; It looked tarnished and quite old.&nbsp; The boy had doubts whether it would open or not, but he turned it still.&nbsp; There was no budge.&nbsp; He tried again...and again, his other hand joining until with a loud click of metal and moan of wood, he pushed it open.&nbsp; It was dark inside, and it smelled musty and old...but...that same smell he loved and had come to know also mingled up into his nose.&nbsp; He stepped inside slowly...cautiously, letting the door go.&nbsp; It closed behind him, a look over his shoulder in a little shock, but he looked forward again quickly.<br><br>He didn't know how....or why...but...he knew he had come there for a reason...he had come home.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>grdell</strong> on <strong>09-02-2010, 22:13:38</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Dominique sat in the corner and tried not to sob wildly. She felt like she may have a couple of broken ribs, and the bruises on her face were swelling and throbbing with a dull pain. The last few minutes had been more hellish than anything she had ever thought she would have to see, and never wanted to see anything even close to them ever again.<br><br>After Diego had run out of the hideout, two men had entered, and they brought death and destruction with them. They seemed angry, and had taken out that anger with a terrifying, unstoppable force. The gang fought back with knives, fists, and in a very few cases guns, but nothing fazed the tall, pale strangers in the long black coats and old-style hats. And one at a time, every member of the gang died in some horrific way - some had limbs torn clean off, some were gutted like animals, one even vomited blood until his eyes burst. All that was left of the gang was herself, Anton and Marco. And Anton didn't look like he would last much longer, sitting in a spreading pool of his own blood, cradling his severed left forearm in his lap and whimpering. Marco just stood there, staring vacantly into space, apparently untouched physically, but mentally dead.<br><br>The two men stood in the middle of all the death calmly for a moment, regaining their composure, before one of them squatted down in front of Anton and reached forward to grab the young man's face in his gloved hand. He stared deeply into Anton's strange golden eyes for a moment. "So the Umber King has a spy in this world, does he? Keeping an eye on his precious princeling, yes? Where has he gone? Where has the Chosen One fled to, I wonder? You will tell me, yes?"<br><br>Anton spat in the stranger's face.<br><br>The other man snarled and pulled out a knife, but the one facing Anton held up a hand. Ignoring the spittle dripping from his face, he spoke to his companion. "No, Mr. Vane. I believe I know where he went, but we must send a message to the Umber King before we dispatch his servant." The man let go of Anton's face and pulled out a wicked looking knife of his own. He held it up to Anton's face so that he could see the gleam of the shining metal. "His hubris will be his undoing, yes? He sends the princeling down a path we cannot follow, but in doing so, he puts him in much greater danger. And we can see to it from afar that he never attains his goal. The Umber King is not the only one who can make servants, no? We have everything we need to make one of our own right here." He laid the blade against Anton's cheek, right under his left eye. "And we can even make him... shall we say... authentic?" In one swift motion, he shoved the edge of the blade under Anton's eye, neatly popping it out of its socket. Anton screamed. Quickly, the other eye was also removed and both nestled glistening in the man's gloved hand. "Finish him, Mr. Vane. I tire of the noise."<br><br>Dominique didn't want to see anymore. She turned her head and closed her eyes and only listened as Mr. Vane killed her last friend in this world.<br><br>* * *<br><br>Diego wandered through the decrepit house, moving wherever he felt drawn. Toward the back of the large house was a small room, all the walls made of glass. A sort of attached greenhouse. Nothing remained of anything that might have grown here except for two large terra cotta flowerpots flanking the door, each sporting the twigs of some long-dead plants. He looked out the wall at the back yard, as equally overgrown and untended as the front had been. He felt strangely calm standing here, as if he could just stare at nothing forever...<br><br>A soft noise and subtle change in the air quality brought him back to his senses. The air seemed somehow less stuffy, almost sort of... humid. And fragrant. And that sound... creaking wood? He turned to leave, to see if anyone else had entered the house, and stopped short in shock and surprise.<br><br>The two terra cotta flowerpots each held a perfect rosebush sporting dozens of orange roses...<br><br>* * *<br><br>There was a silence in the hideout, almost as if the two men were waiting for Dominique to open her eyes again so that she could witness more horrors. And though she didn't want to, each moment that she kept her eyes closed just increased her dread that they would do something horrible to her next. Slowly, trying to avoid attracting any attention to herself, she opened her eyes and looked back around to where she knew Marco was standing senseless. Her eyes passed over Anton on the way, and she shuddered involuntarily, provoking a new jolt of pain from her injured ribs. The top of his head was just gone. She suppressed an urge to vomit.<br><br>She caught sight of the two men standing on either side of Marco. They had stripped him naked, and were even now running their hands all over his body in a strange parody of lovers' caresses. Where their hands traced, his skin slowly grew darker. She wondered what on earth they were doing before she realized that it wasn't that his skin was getting darker - it was that he was growing thick hair, almost like fur, wherever their hands passed. He also seemed to be growing larger as they did this, unless it was some trick of perspective. And his already impressive manhood was growing disproportionately larger, too. She had slept with Marco a few times, and knew what he was packing, but this... this was turning into something almost parodic. Any size queen's wet dream. There was something strangely alluring about it, though, something darkly sensual and intensely erotic. She realized that her own sex had become warm and wet, in spite of her pain and fear, and she had to wonder what else was happening here. Forcing her eyes away from his giant cock, she looked into his face and shuddered once more. His eyes had changed from their old dark brown to a gold color. It took her a moment to realize they must have taken out his old ones and replaced them with the ones they had taken from Anton. This time, she almost did throw up.<br><br>The men, their work finished, took a step back and looked on Marco.<br><br>"He will not fool anyone who knows the Umber King personally, but he matches the general description."<br><br>"The Umber King has sent the princeling to the Gate of Thorns, and therefore into the Dark Bazaar. He will have a long and perilous journey before he reaches Midian. We have time to do what must be done."<br><br>"Go, our decoy. Go and destroy the Chosen One before he destroys us all."<br><br>Marco suddenly seemed to come to life - inhaling sharply and flexing his muscles. A smell - like musk and wet fur - wafted her way, and Dominique had to stifle an almost uncontrollable urge to run to him and fuck him like the wild animal he now resembled. He gave off such an incredible sexual power that she felt overwhelmed by it, her sex aching to be penetrated so strongly that she felt a lump form&nbsp; in her throat. As he moved past her, his muscles bunching under his thick pelt, she actually reached out for him. He looked down at her, no recognition in those golden animalistic eyes, and made to swat at her.<br><br>"No. Do not touch her. We need always leave one witness. One to return with tales of the Servants of the Hand."<br><br>For the first time since her initial attack, one of the men looked directly at her. She felt her spine turn to ice.<br><br>"Besides, we may yet have some future use for her."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ryven</strong> on <strong>11-02-2010, 22:02:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The built in greenhouse was unkempt just like the rest of the old home.&nbsp; It's windows which were once clear and unblemished were now marred by years of build up and unwashed grime.&nbsp; Many panes were broken which allowed him to see out into the rather overgrown jungle that was the backyard.&nbsp; Weeds had overtaken it long ago.&nbsp; The fence which surrounded it, however, was surprisingly intact if not a bit discolored grey and weathered.<br><br>His eyes shifted back to the room again.&nbsp; They turned to the floor to observe its contents.&nbsp; The wooden floor was dingy now, it's once honeyed color faded to a brownish grey.&nbsp; Some boards had come loose, but it still seemed sturdy despite its state of disrepair.&nbsp; Leaves and dust scattered the floor.&nbsp; Diego assumed they came from the single tall tree which sat in the center of the backyard.&nbsp; There were layers of the dead tree matter in the corner, so much so that a few weeds had begun to sprout there.<br><br>In the center of the room was a metal table, a few broken pots laying upon it with the remnants of whatever had been growing here.&nbsp; All that was left was dried soil and roots with life long since left.&nbsp; His hand reached down to pick up one of the small pots, but a slight creak of wood, somewhere from back in the house, captured his attention.&nbsp; He didn't immediately turn around as if startled.&nbsp; Diego felt too comfortable to do that for some reason.&nbsp; The air changed as well.&nbsp; The boy could smell the difference.&nbsp; It was no longer dry and musty, but instead, it was now humid much like a greenhouse usually was.&nbsp; The scent of plants wasn't what he sensed in the air though.<br><br>He turned around to find the two large pots, which initially had held nothing but the dried stalks and twigs of long dead plants, now held a flourishing rosebush in each.&nbsp; The flowers were in full bloom, the color deep orange like the setting sun.&nbsp; Diego's mouth dropped open a bit as if he could not believe what he saw, but desperately, he wanted to.&nbsp; He stepped slowly toward them, stopping just before the pot at the left of the doorway.&nbsp; The bush was not overgrown like the rest of the plants in the backyard.&nbsp; It was well grown but not pruned as if it had been made to become that way since the seed had been planted.<br><br>Diego leaned in and brought his nose close to one of the brilliant blossoms.&nbsp; The sensitive skin of his nose touched the velvety petals as he breathed in deeply.&nbsp; The scent of wet fur and musk filled his nostrils, sending that familiar shiver through his body which ended at his groin and made his sex twitch in response.&nbsp; He reached his hand into his pocket to carefully pull out the rose he kept there.&nbsp; Despite its pressed and deformed appearance from being held in his pocket, it was like all the others on the bush before him.&nbsp; The same smell wafted from it.&nbsp; Another sign, but what now?&nbsp; He'd come this far, where did he need to go?&nbsp; He knew something called him.&nbsp; Something was telling him to come here.&nbsp; Giving him clues every step of the way.&nbsp; 15.&nbsp; The Devil card.&nbsp; The dagger.&nbsp; Now the roses.&nbsp; What did it all mean?
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>grdell</strong> on <strong>16-02-2010, 18:08:05</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Marco walked down the crowded city street, his mind a blur of memories, thoughts and feelings. He knew he was different somehow, could feel that he was walking down the street naked, but none of it seemed to matter. Some small part of his mind was informing him that a huge, furry, naked man walking down the street should attract some attention, and wondered at why he was not so much as spared a glance by anyone that he passed. He seemed invisible, though he felt more "real" than he ever had before in his life. He remembered how big he had felt in the gang, knew that this was now over, but felt no remorse. He felt even bigger now than the gang had ever made him feel.<br><br>He felt his new, monstrously huge manhood swinging between his legs like a pendulum. He stopped in front of a reflective shop window and looked at himself. Stared at the gigantic cock that looked so much like the one he had had his whole life, just grown significantly larger. He grasped it, amazed to discover that even with both hands, he could not cover all of it. Standing in the middle of a bustling crowd on a city street corner, he stood in front of a shop window and jerked his naked cock. Something about this image shouted at him that it was wrong, but he paid it no mind - just like the multitude of people around him were paying him no mind. But not any more...<br><br>He looked around at the people surrounding him as he slowly moved his hands along his tremendous shaft. There was a slight change in the atmosphere, the people behaving strangely. Men tried surreptitiously to adjust themselves in their jeans and business slacks, trying to make their sudden, unexplained and unexplainable erections more comfortable. Women fanned themselves and tugged at skirts and blouses, trying to ease the sudden heat that they felt in their groins and breasts. Marco realized that he was generating a field of sexual energy that these people could feel but could not understand. He laughed - a hearty laugh in a voice deeper than the one he knew was his own - and sped up his hand action. Knowing what he was doing to all the people around him excited him, and he felt a climax growing quickly. He watched as the people surrounding him became more desperate in their attempts to calm their own suddenly raving libidos. And failing. With a grunt, he climaxed, spewing forth what seemed to be gallons of cum and coating the store front with it. At the same time, the people around him jerked and moaned and tried to hide their mutual embarrassment as they all climaxed, too.<br><br>Marco laughed, and took off down the street with a new understanding of his purpose and spring in his step, leaving behind a crowd of confused people and the smell of sex.<br><br>* * *<br><br>Dominique called out in a hoarse voice for her mother when she arrived back at the house and saw what a state the living room was in. She was answered by rushing footsteps coming down the stairs, and her mother, looking as bad as she felt, standing there, mouth agape.<br><br>"What happened to you?" she asked.<br><br>"No more than happened to you, it seems," replied Dominique. She leaned back against the hallway wall. "Two creepy guys in black hats, right?"<br><br>"What did they do to you?" Francine asked, afraid for the worst.<br><br>Dominique rolled her eyes at her mother. "They didn't rape me, mom." She slid down the wall until her butt hit the floor with a hard thump. She winced. "But they roughed me up pretty bad and then killed the g-" She stopped herself before saying the word "gang," but that was just out of habit. "Killed all my friends."<br><br>"What? Everyone?"<br><br>"Everyone but Diego, who ran away, and Marco. They did... something to Marco, though. I can't quite remember it, though..." Her memory seemed to want to block out everything that had happened at the hideout, including Marco's transformation. She could only clearly remember the smell... Musky, undeniably masculine, attractive as hell...<br><br>"What are you going to do?"<br><br>It seemed an uncharacteristic question for her mother to ask, and that fact alone galvanized Dominique into standing up and looking her mother in the face.<br><br>"I'm going after those bastards." She headed for the kitchen, intent on taking the biggest goddamned knife she could find and gutting those assholes. "Diego's all that's left, and I've got a weird feeling that he's mixed up in this somehow. I intend to find out how."<br><br>Francine sobbed. Don't leave, she wailed. Stay here. Stay safe. All that stupid mothering crap that Dominique couldn't stand. She pushed her mother aside as she rummaged through the kitchen drawers until she found what she was looking for.<br><br>"Don't try to stop me, mother. I have to find out what's going on."<br><br>And with that, she left the house and her mother sitting at the kitchen table, crying. She had the strangest sensation that she'd never be returning. But she didn't let that stop her.<br><br>* * *<br><br>Diego, obeying a sudden urge, reached out and snatched as many roses off of the bushes as he could get his hands on, cramming them into his jacket pockets, without heed to the damage he was doing to the delicate blossoms. He felt an urgency that he hadn't felt before. Something bad was coming. He knew it, but he didn't know how he knew it. There was a measure of safety in the house, but it wasn't enough. Whatever it was that was after him would break through and find him defenseless. He had never felt so paranoid in his life, and it was downright terrifying.<br><br>He raced out of the greenhouse and toward the back of the house. There was a kitchen door. There was. There had to be. Didn't there? A back way out of the house?<br><br>He came into the kitchen at a dead run, sliding across the linoleum, leaving skidmarks in his wake. There was a back door. But it was boarded over. From the inside. That made no sense...<br><br>As he stood in the kitchen, his breathing heavy and his panic rising, he noticed the door opposite the boarded one - presumably the basement door. The morning sunlight, coming through the window and interrupted by various things on its way, formed a shape very much like the dagger sign he'd been seeing. There must be something important down there...<br><br>The basement itself was mostly dark, lit only by small windows high in the walls that let in only a little gray light. But even from the foot of the stairs, Diego could see that something was growing down here. The dirt floor of the basement was covered in a low-growing plant, the leaves of which seemed to be a glossy black. And the growth seemed to be thicker toward the far wall... Or rather, where the far wall should be. Either the basement was larger than the house itself, or the far wall opened into some kind of tunnel. And those black leaves were everywhere.<br><br>As Diego stepped off the last stair and onto the floor itself, he felt thorns in those black plants poke his ankles. He looked up and into the "tunnel" and saw that it stretched into the darkness for an unknowable length, leading who-knew-where? And those black plants with their thorns covered the floor and the walls, making it a rough journey at best.<br><br>A thought came to his mind unbidden: "The Gate of Thorns". One of the ways into Midian? Maybe. Only one way to know for sure...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ryven</strong> on <strong>17-02-2010, 02:47:45</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Something took over.&nbsp; He couldn't tell what it was, but Diego found himself snatching every blossom he could get his fingers on.&nbsp; Petals fell rapidly to the floor in his frenzy to capture the orange flowers.&nbsp; They were stuffed into each pocket, into his jacket, anywhere he could fit them.&nbsp; The scent of wet fur and musk began to become thick in the air with all the rustling and movement, and by the time the young man was done, he'd snatched nearly every one of the delicate roses.&nbsp; The floor was littered with orange petals, and all the remained of the bushes was tattered blossoms that would not give up their home.<br><br>Diego pulled open one side of his jacket to sniff heavily the scent that now seeped into his clothing and skin.&nbsp; It smelled intoxicating, and his cock hardened quite quickly in his pants.&nbsp; Suddenly, the feeling he had changed.&nbsp; It was no longer a yearning for the flowers, but instead, it was now a sense of dread.&nbsp; Something was coming.&nbsp; He had to move, to get away.&nbsp; The kitchen.<br><br>He nearly stopped to ask himself why there, but his body already carried him into the equally dingy room.&nbsp; The floor was dusty, but the black and white checker linoleum&nbsp; could still be seen through the grime.&nbsp; The once white cabinets were now grey, many of which were peeling paint and falling from their hinges.&nbsp; The stove was rusted and in very bad disrepair.&nbsp; The windows were broken, much like those in the green house, but they were made of thicker glass.&nbsp; Three doorways graced the walls of the kitchen.&nbsp; The one Diego had come through as well as two opposite each other.<br><br>The one to his left was boarded shut as if to keep something from getting in.&nbsp; It seemed odd, but he didn't have much time to dwell on that fact.&nbsp; He observed all this in a matter of seconds as he was in quite a panic.&nbsp; The door opposite led to the basement.&nbsp; The dagger of light falling along its grey weathered surface led him to believe that.&nbsp; The outline of the light reminded him much of the stylized dagger he had seen before hanging from Anton's neck.<br><br>The boy rushed to the door, his hand reaching for the old handle.&nbsp; It's rusted iron handle barely kept enough strength in it to turn properly.&nbsp; Diego pulled the heavy wooden door open, and it sounded with a loud creak probably the first time in years.&nbsp; Down the steps in the darkness was the basement.&nbsp; The air was musty and damp.&nbsp; Even at the top of the steps, he could smell the life from below.<br><br>The force that had pushed him this far kept him going.&nbsp; He descended each step, most of which creaked as he made his way down.&nbsp; The boy feared that they might collapse under him, but as his foot crunched down on the plant-life under him, he knew he had safely made it down.<br><br>The light down here was even dimmer than that of the house.&nbsp; The small three pane windows only let the mere suggestion of the sun's rays in.&nbsp; He looked down to see thorny brush beneath his sneakers.&nbsp; They were overgrown enough to brush and scratch at his ankle, and as the boy turned his brown eyes to the far wall, he saw that they only seemed to grow denser.&nbsp; He stepped closer, the force drawing him over.&nbsp; With each step, more thorns brushed his legs.&nbsp; Thankfully, his pants had shielded much of the thorns though some caught on the fabric here or there.<br><br>As he approached the wall, he saw the black vines curled around some kind of opening, a tunnel of sorts.&nbsp; "The Gate of Thorns?"&nbsp; He murmured to himself.&nbsp; The vines were very thick here as the stretched deeper into the darkness.&nbsp; There was no telling how far it went or even if it wasn't just a dead end.<br><br>He knew it wasn't wise.&nbsp; It was foolish, dangerous, and he should just turn back.&nbsp; He couldn't though.&nbsp; Diego stepped forward toward the tunnel.&nbsp; His legs slowly stepped up one foot finding a brick covered in vines to help him step into the darkness of the tunnel.&nbsp; The brush crunched with each step, and it seemed the vines closed in around him as he stepped deeper.&nbsp; He pulled his arms in to himself to keep them from being poked by the sharp plants.&nbsp; A few more steps and he look back.&nbsp; The basement seemed so bright from in the tunnel.&nbsp; A waft of wet fur and musk made him turn back and he began to walk again.&nbsp; Deeper and deeper he went, slowly.&nbsp; The vines were getting thicker which hindered his travel to who knows where, and at one point, his shoe failed him.&nbsp; His ankle turned and Diego slipped forward.<br><br>Thorns dug unto his flesh through the shirt, his palms felt the sting of many thorns as he tried to brace himself.&nbsp; "Aaaggh!!"&nbsp; He cried out in pain as all the small pricks compounded in a searing pain through his body.&nbsp; He hissed through his teeth in pain before he slowly came to his senses.&nbsp; The boy remained motionless.&nbsp; Tossing about would do no good.&nbsp; Slowly, he pulled his hands back.&nbsp; More hisses of pain came as the thorns&nbsp; pulled free from his hand.&nbsp; He could feel small droplets of his own blood&nbsp; fall free.&nbsp; Diego gently reached around him until he found a thick vine with few thorns.&nbsp; He gripped onto it before slowly picking himself up again.<br><br>Once he had righted himself, he stared into the darkness.&nbsp; "What am I doing here?"&nbsp; He softly asked himself.&nbsp; The boy suddenly felt the weight of the situation bear down on him.&nbsp; He knew his friends were gone, possibly hurt or dead.&nbsp; He didn't know how he knew that but he did.&nbsp; He was stuck in a tunnel of stinging thorns and now bleeding.&nbsp; A soft sniffle came to him as the urge to sink down and sob for a moment overtook him, but again, the smell of the musk and wet fur nudged him.&nbsp; The feeling of something warm and furry gently caressed his cheek for a split second.&nbsp; He looked up suddenly with a gasp.&nbsp; His eyes moved rapidly around the dark cavern to find nothing.&nbsp; That was when Diego continued to move forward.&nbsp; Slowly but surely, he would get through this.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>grdell</strong> on <strong>18-02-2010, 22:16:00</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Ah, well, I assume you're heading for the Dark Bazaar, of course. But if you're not even sure of that, then I'm afraid I cannot help you."<br><br>The voice came from directly ahead of Diego. It was a small, high-pitched voice with a certain nasally whining quality that was simultaneously annoying and strangely endearing. It was accompanied by a flittering sort of noise, as of some small creature beating its wings.<br><br>"No point in standing around in the dark, my friend. Not that I'm any great expert on where you people come from or anything, but I think you humans can't see very well in the dark, can you? Far be it from me to say anything against your species, though. Just follow the sound of my voice, and I'll lead you out of the darkness. Mind you, there really is only one way to go. This your first time through the Gate of Thorns, I take it?"<br><br>The creature seemed to want to chatter on endlessly, content just to listen to the sound of its own reedy voice. It spoke with a slight accent - almost British, almost Australian, almost Irish... Something not quite American, at any rate.<br><br>"My name's Tumbler. Yes, I know it's an odd name, but it seemed to fit, so I decided to keep it. No sense in calling myself something absurd like 'Killer' or 'Thrasher' or 'John Philip Sousa', now was there? No, sir. No, sir."<br><br>Diego could make out a slowly growing light as he moved forward. The tunnel was twisting and curving now, and he was aware that it was no longer pitch black.<br><br>"Not far now, as the vicar said to the milkmaid." Here, the creature laughed. Or at least, Diego assumed the complex sound was a laugh. It sounded almost like a sneeze, a cough, and a bark all at once.<br><br>Now that the light was growing, he could begin to make out Tumbler's shape. It seemed to be vaguely cat-shaped, but with small wings beating slowly on its back. The wings looked too small and seemed to be beating too slowly to keep it airborne. And there was something odd about the shape of its head...<br><br>"What's your name, by the way? Normally, I wouldn't bother travellers such as yourself, but you seem to be a human of great wealth and, therefore, influence, so I thought to myself, I thought, 'Tumbler, here's a personage worth knowing.' And I stake my tail on it - yes, my very tail! - that I was right. A personage of great importance, no doubt."<br><br>As the light grew, Diego could finally see that Tumbler's head looked wrong only because it was human. A small human head on a cat's body with wings. And just to make the surreal downright absurd, its hair was slicked down, parted in the middle, in a style that would only have looked at home between 1890 and 1920. And it was wearing a bowler hat. An actual, miniature bowler hat perched on top of the miniature human head on a cat's body with wings. Named Tumbler.<br><br>"Welcome to the Dark Bazaar. Not that it's in any way my actual professional function to welcome travelers to the Dark Bazaar, but I just felt that something needed to be said since it appears that this is your first time here, after all."<br><br>The tunnel finally came to an end in what appeared to be a cavern the approximate size of some of the world's largest cathedrals. The place was lit up with torches, candles, glowing spheres, and all manner of things that Diego could neither make out nor understand. There was a din of noise as thousands of voices tried to make themselves heard, and music was playing from innumerable sources, and animals calling, and other things that Diego couldn't make out. And the smell...<br><br>The entire scene was strange and somehow wonderful. Creatures of all descriptions moved around the market stalls where vendors - every bit as strange in appearance as their customers - sold goods and services the likes of which Diego could only guess at. He had stepped into another world.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ryven</strong> on <strong>19-02-2010, 01:10:31</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				It was but a few more steps before he heard the voice.&nbsp; It was rather high-pitched and whining, sort of irritating.&nbsp; At first, Diego thought it was his imagination.&nbsp; He had come to a stop in the dark passage, thorns curling their way around every side of him.<br><br>The voice came again a moment later.&nbsp; Diego looked straight ahead into the darkness, the seeming origin of the voice.&nbsp; Whatever it was, it was a talkative little thing.<br><br>He began to step forward again.&nbsp; Slowly, one foot in front of the other, dodging thorns here and there.&nbsp; Light began to show as the tunnel took a turn left then right.&nbsp; It curved around, and the light grew with each step.&nbsp; He could make out the thorns of the tunnel much easier now, and they grew thinner and thinner.<br><br>The boy simply rolled his eyes at the lame attempt at humor or rather the fact that he didn't get it.&nbsp; Tumbler's laugh was more annoying than his voice if that were possible.&nbsp; It sounded like someone or something having a seizure.<br><br>He stepped around the curving passage and the light at the end of the tunnel, so to speak, gave the small creature a familiar yet odd outline.&nbsp; It was very cat-like in appearance, but there were wings on its back.&nbsp; Diego slowly continued forward, the thorns making way for rough stone.&nbsp; He set foot on the solid ground, no longer having to fear tripping over himself into a bush of sharp vines biting into his flesh.<br><br>It was now that he could make out Tumbler fully.&nbsp; It was cat-like, indeed, but its head was human.&nbsp; Sitting atop it was a bowler hat to complement its perfectly parted hair.&nbsp; He or she looked like they'd stepped straight out of a 1900s filmstrip...at least from the neck up.&nbsp; Diego had never seen anything like it.&nbsp; Well, not outside of fantasy books.<br><br>"Uuh...D-Diego.&nbsp; Who....what are you?"&nbsp; The boy said, sinking to his knees on the damp stone floor before the creature.<br><br>His eyes turned from Tumbler's face toward the open cavern behind them.&nbsp; It was a massive wide open space, and set up on the large expanse of worked stone flooring was a wide array of stalls that stretched toward the other end of the cave.&nbsp; Noise could be heard much like that of a bustling city, but there weren't the usual sounds.<br><br>The young man turned to a nearby stall where a white chicken was sitting atop a stall counter with a large basket of eggs sitting next to it.&nbsp; A short, round thing, sort of like a child but much fatter walked up to it, and in a rather guttural but moderate toned voice asked, "How much for those eggs?"<br><br>Diego raised an eyebrow at the prospect of talking to a chicken.&nbsp; The entire place was maddening, but the kicker was, the chicken answered.&nbsp; "Two coins."&nbsp; Which was followed by a cluck from the fat white hen.&nbsp; The short round thing simply grumbled and walked off, waving a dismissive hand in the direction of the chicken.&nbsp; The fowl turned its head toward the disinterested bazaar goer and muttered, "Cheapskate."&nbsp; Which was also followed by a cluck.<br><br>The boy's jaw dropped for a moment, and he slowly pushed himself back to sit against the tunnel wall.&nbsp; He pulled his legs toward him for a moment, noticing the tears in his jeans from the earlier fall.&nbsp; Tumbler trotted slowly over to sit nearby, asking something&nbsp; about his state of being, but Diego ignored him for the moment.<br><br>"Why am I here?&nbsp; What is this place?"&nbsp; Diego finally said with a rather resigned tone.&nbsp; "Am I going crazy?&nbsp; Am I mad?"&nbsp; He asked sadly, wondering if all this was real...if his hallucinations had grown so great that he was now questioning reality.&nbsp; The boy was frightened.&nbsp; He wished he was back at his grandmother's house.&nbsp; Even with her disapproval of him and his actions, he still knew reality from fantasy there.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>grdell</strong> on <strong>25-02-2010, 19:20:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"Well, Didiego, my new friend - as I hope we shall be - there I cannot help you." Tumbler sat just like cats sit, even curling his tail around his feet. "If you're going to get all existentialist on me and inquire as to the meaning of life and our place therein, I must admit that I am no philosopher. I am merely a travelling bard - a singer, storyteller and loremaster extraordinaire. I am no doctor of the mind to tell you if you are mad or not. If you don't know why you came here, then I most certainly don't. All I can tell you is that this is the Dark Bazaar, and it is one of the places where worlds meet and mingle. I had assumed you'd come here for a reason - presumably to buy something, seeing as how your pockets are fair fit to burst with lovely money." Tumbler looked at Diego sideways with a rather pointed expression.<br><br>This was the second time Tumbler had mentioned wealth. Diego's hand absently went to his jacket pocket, as if to make sure on its own account that it was, in fact, as empty as he believed it to be. But instead of finding nothing more than lint and rose petals, he felt the slightly slippery hardness of newly minted metal. Unbelieving, he grasped a handful and slowly pulled his hand from his pocket, only to see a pile of shiny, round gold coins. And one broken piece of rose stem with a naked flower on the end. None of the orange petals remained. Orange petals...<br><br>"Mind you, there are some merchants here that would just as soon gut you and serve your bones to their next customer if you tried to pay with magical coin of that stripe, but there are others - oh, yes! Many others! - who will take it gladly. After all, any bit of magic is as good as gold to some, is it not?" Tumbler looked at Diego with open curiosity and naked hunger plain on his face. "Come, let us see if we might find such a merchant willing to provide us with a hardy break to our fast, yes? Perhaps some delicacies of your world? Maybe we can get you some... what are they called?... Pot-Parts? A rare treat indeed, as I understand it. Although why anyone should want to eat the parts of the utensil used to cook the meal rather than the meal itself is beyond me, but then, it takes all kinds, does it not?" He smiled toothily at Diego, and all it would have taken would be a pair of pince-nez glasses and a bushy moustache for him to look just like Teddy Roosevelt.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ryven</strong> on <strong>26-02-2010, 19:40:41</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The boy looked up from his lap, the tears in his jeans no longer any concern to him.&nbsp; Tumbler was busy talking, and Diego found his voice oddly soothing.&nbsp; The nature of the creature's words hadn't hit him yet.&nbsp; He simply stared with his deep brown eyes for a long moment, taking in each feature of the cat-like creature.&nbsp; The bowler hat seemed to suit him in some strange way, or at least, Diego thought so.<br><br>The young man finally smiled and gave a slight chuckle.&nbsp; However, his attention was turned to his rather full pockets which Diego had not really paid attention to since he'd stuffed the orange roses deep in them.&nbsp; He ventured a hand into his jacket pocket.&nbsp; The boy expected to find the tattered remains of the roses he had so recklessly stuffed deep within, but instead, what he felt was the smoothness of metal coins.&nbsp; He grasped at some and pulled his hand back free to see the light glint off the shining surface of the gold coins.&nbsp; Trapped between two knuckles was the remaining stem and inner bud of the rose.&nbsp; All petals were gone to leave a naked flower in its stead.<br><br>"I...don't know..."&nbsp; He simply said, more to himself than to Tumbler.<br><br>The young man's eyes swept back to the small critter's face.&nbsp; The cat thing seemed genuine enough and enthusiastic to spend his money even if he had no idea where it came from.&nbsp; Diego was starting to feel much like Alice though the Gate of Thorns was hardly a looking glass.<br><br>At the mention of food, his own stomach rumbled out as if to answer Tumbler in its own fashion.&nbsp; The boy hadn't really eaten in a while, and food sounded quite nice right about now.&nbsp; Diego gave a full on laugh when the cat thing mention poptarts though with a bit of a mix-up of letters.&nbsp; "Pop-tarts, you mean?&nbsp; They're not really all that special where I come from, and not very healthy if you eat them all the time."&nbsp; He said before letting his mind wander to the silly thought of actually eating a pot.<br><br>Diego began to push himself up, and Tumbler took a few steps back to allow the boy room.&nbsp; Once he was standing on his feet once more, he looked down and nodded to the cat thing with a smile.&nbsp; "Lead on, loremaster.&nbsp; I have no idea where we are, and I'm not sure where we're going, but I'll trust you to guide me."<br><br>There was something energizing about accepting one's situation, and right then, Diego felt a bit freer.&nbsp; He didn't know if he was crazy or not, but being in this new world spark some curious part of him that yearned to explore now.&nbsp; Tumbler seemed like a funny yet knowledgeable fellow, and as odd as it sounded, the young man found himself enjoying having him near even despite his short time there.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>grdell</strong> on <strong>11-03-2010, 21:26:19</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Tumbler grinned and nodded as he took to the air once more on wings that looked far too small to support his weight.<br><br>"Of course, young lord. Just as you say."<br><br>* * *<br><br>"The princeling has made it to the Dark Bazaar, my Lord, through the Gate of Thorns."<br><br>"Thank you, Baron." The Umber King stared down at the image of a large red face looking up at him from a shallow basin of water. He moved his hand to disturb the surface of the liquid and break the connection when the Baron cleared his throat and looked uncomfortable. Picking up on the hint, the Umber King stayed his hand. "Something else, Baron? Is there more news that you wish to share?"<br><br>"He has met a... a sphinx, my Lord. He seems to have allowed the creature to become his guide."<br><br>"I see. Thank you again, Baron. Good bye." He smashed his hand into the water, disturbing the surface and breaking the connection forcefully. A sphinx! Wretched creatures. Now that this one had attached itself to the Chosen One, it would be difficult separating them again. He wondered idly if the sphinx knew exactly who it was he'd attached himself to, but doubted it. If the damnable thing knew for sure who Diego really was, it probably would have killed him instead...<br><br>One more complication. How many more things could go wrong? Still, at least he was on his way now.<br><br>* * *<br><br>Marco had found the old house by the strange aura that it had. All of his senses were different now, but he didn't really mind in what was left of his conscious self, because everything seemed to be better. He could hear everything, see further, even smells were much, much stronger. He felt like a god, striding through the streets of the city in his massive new form, and letting the air caress his naked, furry body. But now he was here in this dank basement, staring down a dark tunnel lined with thorny plants, doubting for the first time since his re-creation. Suddenly the idea of walking around naked was no longer so appealing, knowing that he'd have to walk over thorns to get to where he felt compelled to go.<br><br>But nothing good ever came to cowards. He inhaled deeply and took his first step, feeling the long, sharp thorns pierce the flesh on the bottom of his foot, and let out a roar of rage and pain. He shifted his weight, feeling the thorns dig deeper, hissing his breath in once more and brought the next foot forward. More pain, more roars.<br><br>And so, the entity made in the Umber King's image that would come to be known as the Screaming Vengeance, made its way into the Gate of Thorns.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ryven</strong> on <strong>24-03-2010, 02:09:34</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				After a few short steps, he look at Tumbler who flew beside him as he walked.&nbsp; "Why do you call me that?&nbsp; Is it just the way you talk or does everyone down here talk like that?"&nbsp; Diego asked softly.<br><br>They passed by several stalls in the market or bazaar as the little creature had called it.&nbsp; It was unreal to him.&nbsp; The stalls were covered by tents of colored fabric, each as unique as the wares that were peddled beneath.&nbsp; A few of the stall owners called out to him.&nbsp; 'You there! Boy!&nbsp; You'll not find anything better!'&nbsp; or 'Lighten your pocket here!&nbsp; I've the best around!'&nbsp; Some things he had no idea of what they were, but others seemed like ordinary trinkets...bottles...boxes...pouches...vials.&nbsp; That was just the non-edible goods...at least he thought they were non-edible.&nbsp; Some stalls he passed claimed to be selling some type of food, but after stopping at one and nearly getting his finger bitten off by a rather aggravated radish, he decided to look and not touch.<br><br>It had been a while as they walked before Diego said anything else.<br><br>"Tumbler?"&nbsp; He asked.<br><br>"This may sound odd...well...I guess it can't get much odder, but...do you happen to know of anyone from here who usually wears a trench coat and hat?"&nbsp; Diego asked.&nbsp; It might be coincidence, but he had a feeling that odd beings would come from odd places such as this.&nbsp; If that was the case, why was he here?&nbsp; Would he not be more vulnerable in the place where they might have come from?
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>grdell</strong> on <strong>02-04-2010, 21:20:02</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				After Diego asked his question, Tumbler seemed to take a moment to consider something before answering. "Well, it is not at all often that someone shows up at the Bazaar with that much Faerie gold burning holes in their pockets. At first I thought you must be a Faerie Lord to have so much, but then I saw that you were clearly not of the Fae. So you must be somehow otherwise very special. You see, it is a special gift of my people that we can sense large quantities of wealth. Which has lead to the rather unfortunate reputation that we then always try to steal it or somehow otherwise divest their original owners of such largess - which, of course, could not be farther from the truth." Tumbler grinned toothily at Diego. "In any case, you have what amounts to a small fortune in your pockets. Does not that alone make you lordly? And then, of course, there is the question of what is so special about you that you have so much to begin with. I confess that I am most curious to see why this is."<br><br>They continued through the marketplace, Tumbler continuing to speak almost constantly, as seemed to be the little creature's wont. He pointed out various things as they passed the market stalls that he thought Diego might be interested in purchasing - with one notable exception. After Diego began taking an obvious, but careful, interest in the food vendors ("You can never be too careful around Gehenna Root, young lord," pointed out Tumbler after Diego very nearly lost a few fingers to one), he had to stop him from sampling some sizzling meat whose aroma made Diego's mouth water.<br><br>"Is it the custom among your people to partake of the flesh of your own kind? I know that some enjoy it, while for others there is no greater taboo. I merely ask because that is what this stall is selling, sir. Roasted human. It's what the sign says, anyway. Apparently it is marinated in no less than seventeen of the finest spices, however, so it might not be all that unpalatable after all."<br><br>The entity behind the tray of sizzling meat looked rather more like an upright boar than anything else, and even on the unfamiliar porcine features, there was an unmistakably smug look. "Don't fret, sir," he said, in a rough voice. "It weren't anybody you knew. All my humans are specially bred for tenderness and flavor. I keeps 'em in pens back home. Cares for 'em like they was my own piglets, yessir. Free range specimens, such as yourself - beggin' yer pardon, of course, sir - tend to be too tough and gamey."<br><br>After they had moved on and Diego asked about men in trenchcoats, Tumbler became visibly agitated. "I don't know anything about any such individuals, of course, my lord. No, sir, nothing. Nothing at all." He settled his weight on Diego's shoulder and made as if to clean himself while he whispered in Diego's ear, "Mustn't speak of them in public, sir. They have spies everywhere, they do." He continued his preening to keep up the pretense, the weight on Diego's shoulder since he was no longer using his wings, except for balance.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ryven</strong> on <strong>10-04-2010, 22:41:53</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He looked rather skeptically at Tumbler.&nbsp; Diego doubted that anyone with that kind of power wouldn't put it to good use...or bad use, depending on which side of the proverbial coin they were on.&nbsp; "I honestly don't know where it came from."&nbsp; The boy said, reaching into one pocket to finger the coins again.&nbsp; Diego wouldn't know what being lordly felt like.&nbsp; He'd always been on the poor side all his life.&nbsp; His grandmother was the closest person to him who seemed to have somewhat of a normal life.&nbsp; She had taken the life insurance money from his grandfather's passing and saved it, only paying the necessary bills and living off the interest each month.&nbsp; She never bought a large house or lived more luxuriously than she thought she needed.&nbsp; The house was clean, the lights were on, and there was food on the table every night...well, every night that Diego was there.&nbsp; They had become fewer and fewer the further into his teens he grew.<br><br>After the experience with the rather rude Gehenna Root, they walked along until Diego's stomach rumbled.&nbsp; He hadn't eaten in a while, and there was a rather appealing smell coming from one of the stalls nearby.&nbsp; It smelled of cooking meat, better than he had ever smelled before.&nbsp; Diego wandered over to find a porcine looking humanoid hunched over a grill top with sizzling slabs of meat.&nbsp; He was about to inquire how much when his little companion chimed in.&nbsp; The boy's eyes widened and his stomach suddenly lurched, losing every bit of appetite he once had.&nbsp; Diego turned back to the boar with a shocked look before muttering a soft "Sorry" and turning away.<br><br>"Human?&nbsp; I think I'm going to throw up."&nbsp; The boy said softly as he held his stomach.<br><br>Later, after he had asked the question about the men in trench coats, Diego walked along after Tumbler curled up on his shoulder.&nbsp; The boy heeded the creature's warning, waiting until he found a more suitable place to talk about such things.&nbsp; "Alright, but I want to know about them...I...I escaped them.&nbsp; It's how I ended up here."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>grdell</strong> on <strong>24-08-2010, 01:47:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				After Diego slipped into what seemed a suitable alcove and persisted in asking questions about the Followers of the Hand, Tumbler looked around nervously for a moment before answering. He kept his voice low and his eyes in motion, however, watchful and careful.<br><br>"They are called by the name of the Followers of the Hand. A fanatical group. Dangerous. I dare not say more here, we are still too public."<br><br>Tumbler's eyes glanced behind Diego for a moment, deeper into the darkness at the back of the alcove, before focusing on Diego once more.<br><br>"No dark place is safe from them, no sir. They have eyes and ears everywhere, it is said. Even here. Here where they are not supposed to be allowed, they have agents. Psh, what am I saying? Even their agents have agents. The men you saw in your world were agents, and even they cannot enter the Dark Bazaar, nay, not even for a moment. But they can fashion beasts, they can, beasts that can go where they cannot. I dare not say more, I dare not. Truly this time, I mean it. I dare not."<br><br>Once more, Tumbler took to the air, his stubby wings defying all sense keeping him aloft. He looked agitated - or at least more agitated than Diego had yet seen him.<br><br>"Come, come. We still need to eat, yes? I know my belly could use with a good lining, and I am quite sure yours could do with the same treatment, yes? Yes."<br><br>He seemed to want to speak no more on the topic of the Followers of the Hand as he lead Diego to a booth selling what appeared to be fruit. Heaped on a tray were purplish orbs about the size of apples but looking smoother, rather like gigantic grapes; strange wobbly yellow things that looked like a cross between a yellow bell pepper and a starfish; melon-sized oblongs that appeared to have faces carved - or grown? - into them; and things stranger still.<br><br>"Do try a butter berry, do. It will do you a world of good, I have no doubt. No doubt at all. I happen to know this fine vendor will be happy to accept your coin, yes? You do take faerie gold, yes? Yes, of course you do."<br><br>The vendor was a small woman with a shock of hair, green as summer grass, which stood up and out at all angles like an untended thatch. Her almond-shaped eyes looked at Tumbler suspiciously. "Not from the likes of you, sphinx." She turned her gaze to Diego and her features softened. "But from the handsome young lord, most certainly. Tell you what, my lord, two coins for a selection of my choicest fruits and I shall throw in an extra butter berry for free if you would only grace me with a smile to warm my old heart." She looked, in human years, to be about sixteen.<br><br>Tumbler sniffed and landed on Diego's shoulder once more, looking haughty.<br><br>* * *<br><br>Further down the row of stalls in the direction of Diego's movement, a pair of cobalt blue eyes glowed in the darkness behind a market stall for a moment. The vendor did not notice, but he did take note of the ornate, stylized copper dagger that now sat amongst his wares. He could not ever remember seeing it before, much less how he came by it; but he was also opportunistic enough to not take such happenings for granted. He picked it up to test its weight and decided that a price of ten coins should be about enough for such a prize. He would haggle with the next person to express an interest. Today looked to be a good day.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ryven</strong> on <strong>24-08-2010, 20:34:54</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Once in the alleyway, Tumbler took a perch upon the human's shoulder, the creature's head craning closer so as to make being heard easier.&nbsp; The small sphinx's expression changed now to a more grave and furrowed like.&nbsp; It appeared to be a very serious topic.&nbsp; It reminded him of talking about Marco with his friends.&nbsp; It was always a touchy subject, and no one ever wanted to bring it up because if word ever got back to him that they had even hinted at bad mouthing him, he would beat their ass so hard that they would think better next time.&nbsp; If there was a next time.<br><br>Diego listened quite intently.&nbsp; The subject of just who and what those things were weighed heavy on his mind.&nbsp; They were evil.&nbsp; That's about all he knew.&nbsp; He could feel it.&nbsp; He refused to believe they had anything to do with his world.&nbsp; The normal world.&nbsp; He'd never seen anything like them before, but with all that he had seen so far in the short time he had been down in this world...this weird place, he would believe they came from here.<br><br>He wanted to ask questions.&nbsp; He wanted to interrupt, but Tumbler made it very hard to do so.&nbsp; His words were quick and precise as if the small thing wanted to get over with as quickly as possible.&nbsp; Diego glanced around as the sphinx spoke.&nbsp; He seemed a little distracted, and the boy brushed it off as paranoia.&nbsp; However, if what Tumbler said was true, there really would be need for such caution.&nbsp; He still never got an answer to the most important question.&nbsp; Why were they coming after him?<br><br>The conversation, if it could be called that, was over before he knew it, and the small thing punctuated his final words such as to not allow the conversation to return to the subject.&nbsp; Diego let it be for the time being.&nbsp; He would get answers again later.<br><br>He glanced to Tumbler who now took flight once more though it was more like a hover.&nbsp; Tiny wings flapped to carry a weight seemingly impossible, but Diego didn't even think of asking about how that could be possible.&nbsp; He might as well ask the same of everything else down in the 'Dark Bazaar' as Tumbler called it.<br><br>"Fine, fine."&nbsp; The boy said as he began to walk away from the alcove toward the row of stalls again.&nbsp; The little sphinx pointed him toward one with more edible oddities.&nbsp; He looked skeptical again as he browsed the 'produce.'&nbsp; "These aren't grown with humans, are they?"&nbsp; He said while giving Tumbler a sidelong glance.<br><br>"A butter...berry?"&nbsp; He said, more to himself than to Tumbler or the vendor.<br><br>Standing behind the array of fruits was a short female or what he thought was a female.&nbsp; She seemed to give Tumbler a rather icy stare and turn him away though as her gaze shifted to sit upon him, her features softened a bit.&nbsp; He smiled without needing to be prompted.&nbsp; The old vendor reminded him of his grandmother, when she wasn't being a complete raging cunt to him that was.<br><br>Diego pulled two coins from the mysterious stash in his pocket and laid them on the counter before picking up two butter berries.&nbsp; He pocketed one and held the other in his hand for examination.&nbsp; Before continuing his stroll, he did turn back to the vendor with another smile.&nbsp; "Thank you,"&nbsp; he said and slowly took a few steps away while his brownish eyes gazed at the smooth surface of the fruit.&nbsp; Tumbler seemed rather interested in it though probably for different reasons.&nbsp; He was ushered by the small creature to take a bite, and so, cautiously, he brought the grape-like fruit to his mouth and bit into it.<br><br>The inside had the consistency of a pear, but it tasted nothing like it.&nbsp; He wondered why it was called a butter berry because there was no hint of butter anywhere.&nbsp; Instead, the taste was closer to that of a dill pickle though not completely the same.&nbsp; It wasn't unpleasant, but it was unexpected though he didn't quite know what he was expecting from such a strange fruit.<br><br>Diego slipped his thumb into the indentation where his bite had been.&nbsp; He pulled and tore a small piece off, turning his head a bit toward Tumbler and offering it to him.&nbsp; "It's actually not that bad."&nbsp; The boy said before he slowly began to walk again.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>grdell</strong> on <strong>27-08-2010, 21:29:30</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Dominique wandered the city randomly, feeling like a drunk, homeless vagrant. She had no clear memory of what had happened at the hideout, no real idea what she was doing or how she was going to go about doing it. She was injured, and it was maddening that she couldn't remember how it happened. The only clear memory she had was a name - The Servants of the Hand. And the sense of horror and dread that accompanied that name.<br><br>She leaned against a broken fence and coughed, each one bringing such pain that she was sure she must have cracked a rib or two, if not downright broken them. What had happened? She wished she could remember... Any thought of returning to the hideout, however, was rejected out of hand. She couldn't go back. She knew that the reality was somehow worse than anything she could imagine.<br><br>Passersby looked at her, but no one stopped to help. This was New York City, after all. In their eyes she was probably just some junkie in need of her next fix. Probably a prostitute, too. Beat up by her pimp for not doing enough business. Fuck 'em. Let them think what they want. They didn't matter. No one mattered. No one except...<br><br><em>Diego.</em><br><br>He was somehow at the center of it all. Marco was pissed at him because he thought he was gay, and then everything went to hell. But why did that make him so important? She was so confused...<br><br><em>He is to blame.</em><br><br>No... No, that didn't make any sense. Not that anything did. These thoughts seemed weird to her, not her own. Like someone else was trying to do the thinking for her. Fuck that. No one had ever gotten insider her head, and she intended to keep it that way.<br><br><em>Destroy him!</em><br><br>The voice sounded desperate, but fainter. That was good. She had no idea what was really happening, but she would definitely classify it all as "weird shit." Someone else's voice in her head fit into that category easily.<br><br>"Fuck you," she muttered. A pot-bellied man in a worn business suit that no longer buttoned properly looked at her briefly, thinking she was addressing him, before pulling up his collar and hurrying on. Dominique eyed him as he retreated. "And you too, buddy," she whispered.<br><br>She slumped against the fence and looked up at the sky. A few straggling clouds moved slowly across the blue expanse in the crisp autumn breeze. In spite of the brightness of the day, she saw a star. One faint little pinpoint of light. For some totally unfathomable reason, it gave her hope.<br><br>A smell came to her then, rather like wet dog. She didn't know why, but this particular smell wasn't bad. Usually wet dog smell made her gag, but this time, it actually smelled... nice. She looked around for the mutt, but found none.<br><br>She looked up again. The star was still there, winking at her. She decided to follow it. <em>Just the three fuckin' wise men,</em> she thought. After all, it lead them to their destination, why not her, too?<br><br>Why not, indeed?<br><br>* * *<br><br>Tumbler accepted the bit of fruit from Diego, grasping it between his front paws like a squirrel and taking tiny bites.<br><br>"Most gracious, my Lord Didiego. Many thanks. Many thanks, indeed."<br><br>The unlikely pair wandered the bazaar, the various sights and sounds (and sometimes smells) amazing and confusing the city youth. Questions burned inside Diego, but Tumbler seemed not to want to discuss anything further out here in so open a place as this. The bazaar seemed endless, curving back in on itself, following no rhyme nor reason that Diego could make out. Everything, it seemed, was for sale. They passed a slave market. A stall that claimed to sell bottled starshine. One wizened old man purported to peddle moods and emotions at discount rates.<br><br>It was not long before one of the hawking vendors caught Diego's eye. Or at least what he was holding in his hands caught his eye. It was a dagger, ornate and stylized, and looking like it was made from pure copper. Its orange gleam shone in the torchlight and seemed to entrance Diego. The tent this vendor was selling his trinkets in was fashioned from an intense blue fabric, but it was ornamented all over with copper and brass and other accents of orange.<br><br>Tumbler dug his claws into Diego's shoulder. "Blue is <em>their</em> color, young lord. Not good. Not good at all, no sir."<br><br>It was odd, but Diego had to admit that he hadn't seen anything blue (apart from washed-out, faded hues like his jeans) since he had arrived here.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ryven</strong> on <strong>28-08-2010, 21:23:52</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Diego walked on, his stomach slowly filling with the shrinking butter berry in his hand.&nbsp; He continued to hand small bits of the strange fruit up to Tumbler as the creature finished off each one.&nbsp; For something so strange, it wasn't half bad, and it was filling enough.&nbsp; The two of them finished it off in a matter of minutes, leaving nothing in Diego's hand but a small round pit.&nbsp; It was about the size of an avocado pit though darker in color, a deep violet.&nbsp; He could spot nothing that looked like a trash can, so he slipped it into his pocket.<br><br>Tumbler then began to lead him deeper into the bazaar where stranger things awaited him yet.&nbsp; He came upon a stall where a rather chubby man with bronze skin in nothing but a skirt made of yellowing leaves was peddling shrunken heads.&nbsp; They were lined up in rows, a few hanging from the stall structure above.&nbsp; He eyed them warily though the most disturbing aspect about them was the fact that two of them were having a rather heated discussion over what was the best method of applying something called a Ponder Leech to relieve headaches.<br><br>The sphinx ushered him away from there as it seemed neither side would be letting up anytime soon.&nbsp; It was likely to get nasty.&nbsp; Further in they went, turning here and there.&nbsp; The young man was lost now, row upon row of stalls seemed to go on forever in there, and Diego now had to rely solely on Tumbler to guide him.&nbsp; There wasn't much more he could do other than walk around, so that's what they did.<br><br>After turning yet another corner, the two walked past a few stalls, or rather Diego walked with Tumbler on his shoulder.&nbsp; A glint of light caught his eye to the left.&nbsp; It was metal, orange it seemed.&nbsp; He wanted to see what it was.&nbsp; Diego couldn't really explain why, but he was intrigued by it.&nbsp; As he stepped closer, he found in the hands of the vendor what looked to be a copper dagger.&nbsp; It was quite detailed as well.&nbsp; He couldn't tell if it was made of varying types of copper or the other hues of orange tinted metal were different alloys all together.<br><br>"Aagh!&nbsp; Quit it!"&nbsp; He groaned out as claws dug into his shoulder.&nbsp; Diego swatted at Tumbler, his attention still drawn to the dagger.<br><br>"Sir, how much for that dagger?"&nbsp; He said finally without even thinking.&nbsp; He needed it now.&nbsp; It was extraordinary.&nbsp; It felt as if he would collapse if he walked away without it.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>grdell</strong> on <strong>30-08-2010, 17:08:45</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The creature that had at one time been Marco Ricardo Miguel Diez y Santa Anna (who could have traced his lineage - had he cared enough to do so - back to pre-American Mexican aristocracy) felt the last of his sanity burn away along with the last of his humanity under the constant onslaught of pain. His hands, which he had used to attempt to steady his progress through the tunnel of thorns, were as bloody as his torn feet. The unending agony of this new existence took its toll on what had never exactly been a particularly strong mind to begin with. He had stopped screaming some time ago, as his throat had hurt too much, but even that ceased to matter.<br><br>Bellowing in rage and pain, the Screaming Vengeance emerged into the Dark Bazaar.<br><br>* * *<br><br>The vendor with the dark green skin had set up his stall right by the Gate of Thorns - prime real estate in the Bazaar, it was, near any of the gates. The Gate of Thorns was not the most used gate, but still, it had served him well for the twenty-odd years he had been peddling Fate Silk here. He was in the process of haggling with a customer over a particularly fine example of Midnight Silk (the glittering stars woven deep into the fibers by the Spinners of Fate themselves, clever little spiders, they were) when both heard the roar coming from the Gate.<br><br>"By the Thirteen Gods, what was that?" said the merchant.<br><br>The woman who had been thinking to make herself a fine robe from the silk suddenly lost all interest. "And blood shall come to blood..." she murmured, the words of the old prophecy springing instantly to her mind. "The high brought down, the low made high once more. The Screaming Vengeance shall come unto the Middling Lands..."<br><br>"And all shall perish..." continued the merchant. He knew the old prophecies, too. "Merciful Fate, the Screaming Vengeance has come."<br><br>"Someone should warn Baron Sanguinus," said the woman as she dropped the bolt of silk. She wanted more than anything to run, but some force held her rooted to the spot in her terror.<br><br>"Too late," breathed the merchant as it stepped out of the gate. His bowels turned to water at the site of it. Seven and a half feet tall, at the least, covered in blood-matted fur, its hands and feet dripping a never-ending tide of gore. Its mouth hung open in the endless scream of torment and hate, it was unmistakeably the creature out of nightmares they had all feared for generations.<br><br>Some other customers and vendors, whose stalls and tents had been set up further back, took to their heels at the sight of it, but neither the silk merchant nor his unlucky customer found themselves able to move as the Screaming Vengeance descended on them and tore them to pieces in its blind rage to destroy everything, its original purpose forgotten.<br><br>* * *<br><br>Baron Sanguinus slouched in his throne at the very center of the Dark Bazaar. In truth, the cavern that held the Bazaar was boundless, even though it had walls, expanding as necessary to accommodate all. But no matter how much it shifted, or in any direction, his throne room was always at the center.<br><br>He had finished his communication with his majesty the Umber King some time before, but he had not moved since. The arrival of the Chosen One could only mean that the Screaming Vengeance was not far behind, if the ancient prophecies were to be believed. The Princeling had allowed himself the company of a sphinx, and the Baron would not be able to help him pry himself away from the creature as he would have liked. The Screaming Vengeance was to be his death, and that was something he was not looking forward to.<br><br>The screams began by the Gate of Thorns. "I should have known," muttered the Baron to himself as he stood and gathered up his sword. He did not wish to die this day, but it was his duty to protect those in his care, and the Dark Bazaar was his domain by law and by right. He wished, not for the first time, but perhaps for the first time with this much regret, that he had found the time to sire an heir. But there was nothing for it at this time. It was too late. Too late for everything. He could only pray that the Chosen One would find his way to the Labyrinth of the Clockwork King rather than take the more dangerous path through the Thundering Plateau.<br><br>Cursing the sphinx and his own damnable fate, he set out to face the Screaming Vengeance, and therefore his own death.<br><br>* * *<br><br>Danuel had peddled copper and bronze at the Dark Bazaar for only three years, but he understood the currents and the politics better than most of the vendors that had been there for centuries. He knew better than to question destiny when it stared him in the face, too. He did not remember where the dagger had come from, nor did he ever remember seeing the young human with the sphinx on his shoulder. But he somehow knew the two were meant for each other. What he did not know was to what purpose.<br><br>The sphinx flew down when the young man swatted at him, landing on the ground with the haughty expression that came so easily to his kind. Danuel always thought they looked a little smug, and always wanted to kick them because of it. What did they have to be smug about? But he heard the little creature try to talk some sense into the human.<br><br>"That's not how one haggles, Master. I can see I have a lot to teach you."<br><br>Danuel held the dagger up so that it caught the light and gleamed. "A fine specimen, yes?" He knew the boy wanted it, but he couldn't stop himself from pitching a sale. "Observe how ornate the work. Truly a piece of art every bit as much as it is a serviceable weapon. For you, only fifteen coins." He smiled, as he always did when opening negotiations, but inside himself he was uneasy. He had been hawking this item for thirty to forty coins ever since he found it on his counter, and had been planning on taking advantage of the young man's obvious desperation by starting as high as fifty. Fifty, not fifteen. Why had his tongue slipped? He had never made such a mistake before, and it worried him. Maybe destiny was playing a part here, after all.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ryven</strong> on <strong>03-09-2010, 17:38:42</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Diego was rather uncaring of the vendor's sales pitch.&nbsp; He already knew he wanted the dagger quite desperately.&nbsp; If he were in a more sane state of mind, if he could consider himself insane at the moment, he might have wondered to himself just why he needed the dagger so badly.&nbsp; Deep in the back of his mind, he remembered Anton confronting him in the alleyway.&nbsp; The scent so familiar to him, damp fur.&nbsp; He wore a copper looking dagger necklace which Diego couldn't keep his eyes from.&nbsp; The numbers and the tarot card.&nbsp; The devil.&nbsp; It was all a mystery to him, but something was pushing him to go further.<br><br>Against Tumbler's advice, he dug into his pocket, pulling out a handful of gleaming coins.&nbsp; He remained aware enough to actually count out fifteen of them, making sure several times that he had the right amount because he was so distracted.&nbsp; The young man handed them over before grabbing the dagger almost forcefully from the vendor's hand.&nbsp; It felt heavy in his hands, and there was an odd warmth to it.&nbsp; &nbsp;His obsession began to wane now that it was in his possession, but he still felt the heavy unexplainable thoughts of its importance.<br><br>His fingers ran over the metal, orange hues abound along its surface.&nbsp; He toyed with the gleaming blade, his finger running along it until it crested the tip, but his clumsiness much likely induced by his slightly unstable state of mind caused the sharp tip to bite into his finger.<br><br>"Ahh!"&nbsp; He pulled back, his finger shedding one tear of blood.&nbsp; It was the same finger the rose had cut into earlier.&nbsp; Same wound reopened.&nbsp; It didn't make sense to him.&nbsp; He couldn't read the clues being given.&nbsp; Diego only sucked his finger into his mouth to tend to the small wound while clutching the dagger with his other hand.<br><br>His brownish eyes finally fell down upon Tumbler again.&nbsp; "Let's go."&nbsp; He said, suddenly feeling the strong urge to move on.&nbsp; Little did he know that across the bazaar where he had entered, Marco who had transformed into the abomination known as the Screaming Vengeance was following his trail.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>grdell</strong> on <strong>08-09-2010, 17:28:08</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Tumbler eyed the dagger with a wary suspicion. Something was definitely not right in all this. His race were scavengers, living on the edges of everything, taking what they could - mostly what others discarded. They were not the parasites others thought them to be, merely opportunistic. And when Diego had stumbled along the path through the Gate of Thorns, Tumbler had seen one hell of an opportunity that he would be a fool to pass up. So he offered his help to the young man. And Diego, being a stranger to the middling lands (one of the finest examples of in-world naivete Tumbler had ever come across in all his years), had accepted that help not understanding what it truly meant.<br><br>But there were greater forces at works all around them. Tumbler could feel the lines of eldritch force tightening around this young human, and it unsettled him. They were bound now, for good or ill, so he had no choice but to stick it out and see where it all would lead. But that dagger... It looked too much like the fabled Blade of Truant Passage than anything other had any right to. But it couldn't really be such a thing, could it? It was said to be lost to antiquity, stolen away and hidden in the Umber King's hoard uncountable centuries ago. And if <em>he</em> was somehow involved in this, that could be very bad for Tumbler. Very bad, indeed.<br><br>"So, young master, have you some destination in mind, or are we but wandering aimlessly through the worlds, seeking mischief and adventure?" It wasn't in his nature to be so direct - being circumspect was practically what being a sphinx was all about - but he had to know. Had to know where Diego was going and if the Umber King were somehow involved. "If it is excitement you seek, there is always the Forest of Broken Dreams. Never a dull moment in there, no sir. Or pleasure, perhaps? Some warm flesh to grasp between your thighs, hmm? Madame Sinful's takes faerie gold, I know that for a fact." He watched Diego from the corner of his eye, seeing what reaction he could get from the young man. "They cater to all tastes there, I'm told. Anything you could desire."<br><br>There was a commotion further back in the bazaar, back the way they had come, but Tumbler paid it less mind than he ordinarily would have. Thoughts of the Umber King's possible involvement with this young man were frightening him, and he needed answers quickly.<br><br>* * *<br><br>Baron Sanguinus' sword sliced the air inches shy of disemboweling the horrifying creature before him. He tried to press the attack, even though the Screaming Vengeance had a clear advantage. Wreckage and carnage lay strewn around them as evidence of the ferocity of their fight, but the Baron's strength was failing and his wounds were grievous. The monster's strength was terrible, and its unending screams unnerving. It seemed to never grow hoarse or out of breath, and the Baron found himself wishing he could silence that voice forever.<br><br>Plus, its uncanny resemblance to the Umber King was extremely disturbing to one of his loyal servants.<br><br>The creature, sensing perhaps that its opponent was so close to succumbing, lunged forward with its dripping claws held high. Sanguinus tried to thrust his blade upward and into its belly, but found his arm failed him at the last. He lacked the strength to lift the great blade, and the creature's blow drove him to his knees. He looked like a supplicant before his lord, and his last thought was that this was all wrong. He had bowed before the Umber King countless times, but never in fear and despair and death as he did now. He raised his face one last time to look into the Screaming Vengeance's face and he saw only madness there.<br><br>Onlookers would later tell of the strange smile that seemed to form on the Baron's face just as the Screaming Vengeance reached down and tore his head from his body as easily as if he were picking a ripe fruit from a vine. They would also, in furtive whispers, tell of how the beast convulsed in pleasure and spewed forth great ropey strands of its seed as it stood there devouring the Baron's face.<br><br>And so it came to pass that the first of the Great Prophecies of The Ending was fulfilled.<br><br>* * *<br><br>Dominique had stumbled through the city as the sun set and now found herself in a run-down neighborhood in the dark. She knew it was no place to be at night, and would rather have been home, or in a hospital having her wounds seen to, or in the arms of a lover, or anywhere else but standing in front of some ruined old house. The place gave her the creeps, but it was shelter, at least. She figured she could break a window (if there were any left that weren't already) or force entry some other way, but it turned out that the front door was wide open. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at it, thinking of all the reasons that a house like this, in a city like this, would have its front door open, none of them good. But then she caught a whiff of that smell again. Just the faintest of traces, but it was unmistakeably there. That strangely enticing wet dog smell that got her so goddamned horny she couldn't think straight. He'd been here. Marco, or whatever those creepy men had turned him into...<br><br>Wait, where had that come from? She couldn't clearly remember anything that had happened at the hideout. But an image had bubbled up out of the murk - the sight of two men clad in long black coats running their hands over Marco's naked body, turning him into <em>something else...</em><br><br>She realized that one hand was forcefully pushing at her crotch, that she was trying to masturbate through her jeans even though she wasn't conscious of it. She forced her hand to her side with a disgusted little grunt. Marco hadn't been <em>that</em> great in the sack, but whatever it was those men had turned him into was like pure sex on legs.<br><br>Pushing those thoughts aside, she stepped into the house. It didn't take long to explore, and she found it odd that the place was completely empty. The place should be stuffed to the gills with homeless people and squatters and crackheads and god knew who else in this overcrowded city, but it stood empty. Weird. Also weird were the rose vines in a little greenhouse off the back that sported only a few bedraggled orange flowers that seemed to wilt even as she watched. The soil was bone dry. No flower could possibly have grown there, yet there they were. She sniffed at one, inhaling deeply, and caught that scent again. What kind of rose smelled like sex?<br><br><em>All of 'em, sugar.</em><br><br>She smiled as she remembered Bertha, the saucy old black woman that had given her so much more real-world advice and upbringing than her mother had ever done. And of course she was right, nine times out of ten, that was all a rose was for - getting into someone's pants.<br><br>She was tired, hurting, frustrated, and as horny as a sixteen year-old boy at cheerleader camp. Not knowing what else to do, she laid down on the floor of the little greenhouse, one of the orange roses clutched to her chest, and almost instantly drifted off to sleep.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ryven</strong> on <strong>15-09-2010, 00:33:44</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Diego clutched the dagger in one hand while his other was stuck between his lips to suck gently at the tiny wound his eagerness had afforded him.&nbsp; The young man pulled the digit free to only see the smallest amount of blood still trying to seep from the cut.&nbsp; He couldn't really fret about it.&nbsp; It's not like he had a band-aid anyway.&nbsp; He would hardly die from such a thing, but he did find it peculiar that that particular finger had run into a streak of bad luck.&nbsp; Twice in one day it had caught itself beneath the point of something sharp.&nbsp; He then remembered the dagger in his other hand.&nbsp; Again, he looked upon it.&nbsp; The driving need was gone.&nbsp; In fact, he could hardly remember why he'd been so desperate to buy it in the first place.<br><br>They had walked a short distance before Tumbler had chimed in again.&nbsp; He thought for a long moment, each step taking him closer to some unknown destination.&nbsp; "I'm not sure.&nbsp; I've never been here before."&nbsp; He stated as if Tumbler hadn't known that obvious fact.<br><br>Diego continued listening to his small friend, the tiny voice rambling about possibilities of where to go next.&nbsp; Each word was building more and more upon the mystery he found himself in.&nbsp; This dream...or whatever it was kept getting weirder and weirder yet retained its surreality.&nbsp; Something told him that there was more to this than just himself going insane.<br><br>They approached a crossroads.&nbsp; There was no marker, no sign, nay there was hardly a path of egress.&nbsp; The path hardly strayed from going further into the bazaar, circling in on itself like some never ending cosmic shopping mall.&nbsp; The new path led away between two vendor booths.&nbsp; They were currently unoccupied.&nbsp; It seemed like this part of the bazaar didn't see much traffic.&nbsp; He looked between the two booths to find a dark alcove leading deep into the rocky wall.<br><br>Finally, he turned to Tumbler again.&nbsp; "Madame who?&nbsp; Are you talking about...prostitutes?"&nbsp; He said rather confused.&nbsp; "I don't know.&nbsp; Given all the weird shit that I've seen here so far, I'm not sure I want to go find any hos from this place.&nbsp; They're bad enough where I come from.&nbsp; No telling what they'll be like here.&nbsp; Probably have like three tits like that one movie...uhh...Total Recall."&nbsp; He said with a laugh before letting it wane to a rather somber expression.&nbsp; His tastes were what seemed to start this whole mess.<br><br>"I don't know.&nbsp; I'm not sure they would have anything for me."&nbsp; Diego said solemnly, looking up into the alcove again.&nbsp; He began to think of his dreams again.&nbsp; That voice.&nbsp; Deep and domineering.&nbsp; The smell of fur, sweat, and musk.&nbsp; Muscle and size.&nbsp; A man larger than he.&nbsp; If it was a man at all.&nbsp; Whatever his <em>tastes</em> were, they weren't normal.&nbsp; He was sure of that.<br><br>"What's down there?"&nbsp; The boy turned back to Tumbler, pointing with one finger of the hand that clutched the dagger.&nbsp; He seemed to want to risk going there without regard for where it went, but that didn't mean he wouldn't consult the only source of information he had albeit a rather dodgy one.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>grdell</strong> on <strong>16-09-2010, 20:42:50</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Tumbler's people were given over to superstition, but this almost blatant interference of destiny was starting to get on his nerves. Diego had found the passage that led to the Gate of Gears effortlessly - seemingly at random. But it couldn't just be coincidence that he would have pointed out the shortest route to the Realm of the Umber King. It was certainly no coincidence that the booths on either side of the passage were unoccupied. Very few people came through the Gate of Gears anymore, and business was not good in this area of the Bazaar. The Clockwork King had seemingly closed off his realm completely for exactly a year and a day, only to reopen it into one of the nastiest labyrinths in all the worlds. Why he had done this, no one knew, but no one liked traversing his lands anymore.<br><br>"That's Tik-Tok alley, that is. Leads to one of the Gates out of the Bazaar - the Gate of Gears. And the Gate of Gears opens out into the Labyrinth of the Clockwork King." Tumbler actually shivered a little as he said the name. Over the last few decades, the Clockwork King's reputation had become darker and more sinister. People said he had gone mad - if a being made entirely of gears could be said to have been sane in the first place. "The Labyrinth is a grand place, they say, full of wonders beyond count, but also dangers unimaginable. And one can never find the way out again until you first find the center, they say. Once you enter, you must make audience with the king, or wander his halls forever."<br><br>Unheeded, a snatch of verse occurred to him. One of the great Prophecies. "The Chosen One unto the Court of the King of the Maze did come/And the Madness was no more and the Path made clear again."<br><br>The Path. A clear reference to the Golden Path - or so the scholars said - that lead into the Realm of the Umber King. A path made obscure by the Clockwork King's mad labyrinth.<br><br>Was Diego the Chosen One of the prophecies? Could it be? Was the Time of Ending upon them all so soon? Tumbler glanced back over his shoulder, finally paying attention to the sounds coming from behind them. Coming from the Gate of Thorns. The screaming. Screaming... <em>No!</em><br><br>Suddenly, he took to the air and headed toward the mouth of Tik-Tok alley. "Whatever the perils, young master, surely the rewards of such adventure should outweigh them, yes? And such an august personage as yourself could surely never be frightened of whatever awaits? Truly, I have always wanted to see the Labyrinth." That last was a lie. In actual truth, he had hoped and prayed on his tail that he would never have to see it. But it was the nearest exit from the Dark Bazaar, and if he was right about what was behind them, the Dark Bazaar was soon to be no more anyway. "Come along, master. You have a weapon now, yes? Mayhap you'll find good use for it beyond." And if he was right about the dagger, they'd have need of its special powers very soon.<br><br>For the first time in his life, he fervently wished that he was wrong.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ryven</strong> on <strong>21-09-2010, 19:44:53</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				His eyes scanned forward into the deep darkness of the path.&nbsp; It led away to seemingly nowhere, but Diego knew there was something beyond.&nbsp; He could feel it.&nbsp; Not only that, he felt like he had to progress through that path.&nbsp; No other.&nbsp; Tumbler chimed in with his usual devious tone to explain what lay beyond.&nbsp; A gate perhaps like the one he had entered the bazaar through though this one would be made of gears and not thorns.&nbsp; At least that held promise of not getting poked and prodded to death by sharp pricks to his skin.&nbsp; No, other untold dangers would likely lay ahead as Tumbler suggested.<br><br>The Labyrinth and Clockwork King were to be his next destination, but he had no idea of how he would traverse such a place.&nbsp; A labyrinth was a maze, and the feeling he was getting from the little sphinx beside him was that this was no ordinary maze.&nbsp; He turned to Tumbler, raising an eyebrow at the unknown words he spoke.&nbsp; It sounded like verse from a song or poem.&nbsp; "What does that mean?&nbsp; What are you talking about?"<br><br>Tumbler seemed to be distracted though.&nbsp; His little head turned round as if to look for something behind them, the bowler hat moving crisply with the turn of his head.&nbsp; He seemed flustered and took to the air, heading quickly into the alleyway.&nbsp; "Tumbler?&nbsp; What's going on?"&nbsp; Diego inquired while heading after the small creature.&nbsp; They delved into the darkness together with the sphinx just ahead.&nbsp; There was something different though.&nbsp; Tumbler had never seemed this eager to move on.<br><br>Barren walls made way to more intricate designs.&nbsp; The rock seemed to fade into smooth metal.&nbsp; Each step brought them closer to something unknown.&nbsp; The air began to change.&nbsp; The smell of iron permeated each breath he took.&nbsp; It became a bit warmer, and gentle light could be seen ahead.&nbsp; It was gold in hue but soft in intensity.&nbsp; As they moved further in, there was a rhythmic sound emanating from beyond.<br><br>Tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock...on and on.&nbsp; Clicks and clinks of metal joined in to a symphony of mechanical wonder, for as Diego stepped closer to the light, he could make out a sea of gears.&nbsp; The spun and whirred in unison, framing some kind of portal to what he assumed was the labyrinth.<br><br>"Tumbler...how do we get through?"&nbsp; He asked.&nbsp; The path didn't look safe.&nbsp; The very ground moved with the unending efficiency of machinery.&nbsp; It was a steam punk's wet dream.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>grdell</strong> on <strong>20-12-2010, 16:23:30</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Directly ahead of the pair of them was an archway, framed in moving bronze. What lay on the other side of the arch was obscured by an unnatural darkness. It seemed to Diego that it was a leap of faith to move forward into the unknown or to turn back. Tumbler turned to look at him.<br><br>"I cannot say, young master, for I have never passed through before. I have never visited the Labyrinth." His voice trembled and was quiet. For the first time since Diego had met the little sphinx, he seemed at a loss for words.<br><br>Seeing no real alternatives, the pair stepped through the darkness and into an alcove. Once past the archway, gears closed in behind them, trapping them in a space no larger than a prison cell, and with no visible means to move forward. Tumbler kept to the air, his tail pulled in tight to his body, obviously afraid that it might get caught in the ceaselessly grinding gears. Directly ahead of them, there were eight levers set into the floor, and behind each lever, a stationary gear with letters engraved upon it. Ever curious, Tumbler moved forward and peered at the gears.<br><br>"These letters make no sense! CXXVIII? What kind of a word is that? Unless, perhaps, we are meant to rearrange the letters? Try to make some sensible words?"<br><br>Tumbler hovered back and forth in front of the unmoving gears, trying to make sense of the letters engraved on them. In order from left to right, they read: CXXVIII, LXIV, XXXII, XVI, VIII, IV, II, I.<br><br>Tumbler was worried, in his heart of hearts, that Diego might not be able to solve the riddle. The Clockwork King was notorious for merciless punishments against those he deemed unworthy, and Tumbler did not relish the idea of being ground between the teeth of the innumerable gears. He glanced left and right, wondering if they looked a little closer on either side, wondering if they had only a limited amount of time to puzzle out the solution. It seemed senseless to him, though, that fate should lead them here only to abandon them. He had to trust that Diego would work it out. Or that the dagger he had so recklessly bought was indeed the blade he believed it to be.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ryven</strong> on <strong>29-12-2010, 02:10:49</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				It was a hard choice but a choice that Diego made nevertheless.&nbsp; They stepped through the inky darkness of the archway to find themselves surrounded by gears upon spinning gears.&nbsp; They even seemed to close in behind them, trapping them in the small chamber of mechanical chaos.&nbsp; The young man took a quick look around, but it all looked the same.&nbsp; Bronze gears turned and whirred around them, spinning like some eerie clock.&nbsp; It wasn't until Tumbler pointed out the gears that Diego actually looked over toward the little creature to see what he was talking about.<br><br>Each was marked by a set of letters.&nbsp; The young man inspected each while listening to the sphinx's frustration.&nbsp; They can't be words though.&nbsp; They were something else.&nbsp; Diego had it.&nbsp; It was on the tip of his tongue.&nbsp; Greek? No.&nbsp; Roman!<br><br>Just as Tumbler was beginning to lose hope, Diego spoke up.&nbsp; "They're not words.&nbsp; They're numerals.&nbsp; Roman.&nbsp; I don't know them all, but I can assume..."&nbsp; He said, trailing off for a moment and taking on a very contemplative look.<br><br>"One..."&nbsp; He said pointing to the I.<br><br>"Two..."&nbsp; He said pointing to the II.<br><br>"Four..."&nbsp; He again said.<br><br>"Eight...sixteen...thirty-two."&nbsp; He said and paused, pointing to each plate.<br><br>"It's a sequence.&nbsp; I never learned much past that, but I assume the next is sixty-four...then one-hundred twenty-eight.&nbsp; Maybe we have to choose the right letter...or...a combination?"&nbsp; Diego asked himself.<br><br>He felt a strange itch at his palm, the one holding the dagger.&nbsp; He looked at the coppery colored metallic weapon again.&nbsp; The dagger-like necklace from before flashed in his mind...then the tarot card.&nbsp; The devil.&nbsp; The walk back toward he hideout, and...the number.&nbsp; Fifteen!&nbsp; That had to be it.&nbsp; He remembered seeing it before like an obsession that haunted him.<br><br>Acting as if he'd had a stroke of genius, with his eyes wide, Diego walked toward the levers.&nbsp; He laid his hand on the I lever and pulled down.&nbsp; Next, he held the II and pulled as well.&nbsp; IV came next and finally VIII.<br><br>"One...three...seven...fifteen.&nbsp; These four numbers equal fifteen."&nbsp; He said to himself as he watched and waited, hoping that he hadn't just damned them both.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>grdell</strong> on <strong>29-12-2010, 02:42:11</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Tumbler listened, fascinated, as Diego explained what the strange letters meant. Obviously, this was some numbering system from Diego's world that he was not familiar with. Letters as numbers? What was the sense in that? But he watched as the young man pulled the four levers farthest to the right, the combination he had chosen obviously having some meaning for him. Tumbler wondered if he had been running across the number fifteen a lot recently, but didn't ask. It seemed that fate was intervening once more. Tumbler's tail twitched.<br><br>There was a pause after Diego pulled the last lever where nothing seemed to happen. Then, as if making up their collective mind that Diego was finished, the gears began moving in a new and different way. They shifted and separated, opening a passageway in front of them. Diego had solved the riddle! Tumbler had to admit to himself that he was actually impressed.<br><br>"Very good, young master! Very good, indeed! It seems you have passed the Clockwork King's first test and he has granted us admission to the Labyrinth." <em>Where none other may follow,</em> he thought, being careful not to let his trepidation show. If he had read all the signs correctly, and Diego was the Chosen One and this was the Time of Ending and the Dark Bazaar was even now being destroyed by the Screaming Vengeance, then the Labyrinth of the Clockwork King - deadly as it was - was actually the safest place for them. "Shall we proceed?"<br><br>He flew forward, into the corridor leading off from the Gate of Gears. It was very odd, however, and looked to Diego like some old woman's house, or like something out of photos he'd seen of Victorian homes. The corridor was narrow, with walls covered in paper depicting climbing pink roses and oak wainscoting. The floor was a hardwood, but covered down the middle with a carpet runner matching the wallpaper. There were gaslamps set into the walls at regular intervals, and intricately constructed panel doors with elegant crystal doorknobs leading off from the hallway. It was all just a little too surreal. And under everything, the faint sound of the endlessly grinding gears and a constant ticking as of thousands of clocks.<br><br>"I must admit," said Tumbler, sounding unsure of himself for the first time since Diego had met him, "that this is not at all what I expected from the varied descriptions I had heard of the Labyrinth. Bare stone walls? Bronze gears? Who knows? But this fine appointment? Never."<br><br>The corridor continued straight forward for a short time before reaching a t-juncture where the choice was to go either left or right, but each option only lead to more twists and turns. As nice as the decor was, it was obviously still a maze at heart.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ryven</strong> on <strong>08-01-2011, 15:37:35</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Diego gave a silent nod as Tumbler asked if they might move forward.&nbsp; His eyes were glued to the gears that had moved aside to allow him to pass.&nbsp; He was unsure if the combination he used was right, but once the gears had obviously moved aside to let them pass, his face brightened with a smile.&nbsp; "I...I did it?"&nbsp; He asked.&nbsp; The dagger still in his hand seemed to resonate with the occasion.&nbsp; It was all beginning to click even if Diego was not aware of it.<br><br>He passed through the gate with Tumbler at his side though what they found was completely unexpected.&nbsp; It was like stepping into one of those older homes.&nbsp; Nothing was modern.&nbsp; It was like the stereotypical grandmother's house.&nbsp; The wallpaper was gaudy and over stimulating to the eye.&nbsp; It was all a little too surreal for Diego as well.&nbsp; The one thing that seemed to be uncharacteristic was the grinding of gears and ticking of clocks which had carried over from the gate.<br><br>Tumbler voiced what Diego was feeling in that moment though Diego could not find the words.&nbsp; He simply nodded as he looked around.&nbsp; It was all too...neat.&nbsp; He expected to find machinery, moving parts.&nbsp; Not this.<br><br>They continued on until they came to the end of the long hallway where it separated into a T.&nbsp; One path lead right and the other left.&nbsp; He stopped in the juncture, looking either way with no clue as to which way was the correct way.&nbsp; "So which way do we go now?"&nbsp; He asked, taking a closer look at the decor.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>grdell</strong> on <strong>11-04-2011, 06:30:32</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Dominique woke stiff and aching. Had she really fallen asleep on the floor in some strange desolate house in a bad neighborhood? What had happened to all of her senses? But the things she had witnessed lately had thrown her whole world upside down. Nothing made any sense anymore. Those strange men and the strange beast they had turned Marco into. If all of that could really exist, what else did or didn't? She wasn't a particularly faithful person, even though she had been raised in the church - a too-hard life living on the streets of the city had worn all of that nonsense out of her. She felt that she no longer had any kind of compass as to what was real and what made sense.<br><br>And then there was this house. This weird house that had been left alone to rot without being vandalized in a neighborhood like this? And these roses that smelled like wet dog, yet made her think of sex. No, not just think of sex, they made her horny as hell. She got hot and moist down there just remembering that scent. And Marco had smelled like that...<br><br><em>What the fuck was happening?</em><br><br>There was some sound at the very edge of her perception. It must have been what had woken her, since it was still clearly the middle of the night. Faint, yes, but it sounded like screams. Someone was screaming. And she had a very good idea who was causing it. It sounded like Marco - or whatever <em>thing</em> that was that had once been Marco - was killing someone. Well, fuck that. If she could stop it, she would.<br><br>She found her way to the cellar door, where the sound seemed to be strongest, when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She spun around, but saw nothing behind her. Her heart was racing and the adrenalin was pumping through her veins when she heard the sibilant whisper of a voice.<br><br>"Careful, sister. The Princeling walks a difficult path. It will all be on your shoulders whether he succeeds or no. As always, the hardest decision of them all must fall to a woman to make. Be strong."<br><br>There was a flash of blue at about the height that eyes would be if someone was standing there, but there was no one. There was no mistaking the voice, however, she had clearly heard it. Hissing to her. She stood there, confused and angry, unsure what to do next.<br><br>The screams came again - faint, at the very edge of hearing. Was she even really hearing them? That strange disembodied voice had been louder, and that had been no more than a whisper. But it sounded like someone was in trouble, and she wasn't going to stand idly by and do nothing if she could help. She descended the stairs, discovered the Gate of Thorns, and entered without hesitation.<br><br>And, unknowing her true purpose, the Priestess came unto Midian.<br><br>* * *<br><br>The Clockwork King brooded in his chamber at the center of the labyrinth created from his madness. He hardly knew who or what he was anymore, just that he needed to continue. He must endure. Beyond everything. At any cost. It had become a paranoia over the ... what? Centuries? Millennia? He no longer knew, if he ever had. He had been a man, once. A man with a vision that he had given himself. He made himself, and he made himself anew. Circles. Circles within circles. Gears endlessly turning, driving him ever onward. Forever. He must endure.<br><br>A new element, now. Someone in the maze. Or something. Something new. He shifted his perception. He no longer had eyes, exactly, but he nonetheless understood the concept of sight well enough that his consciousness was able to perceive any point in the labyrinth with perfect clarity. A young man and a sphinx. Just inside the Gate of Gears. Gate of Gears? Had he made that? Or had that always been there? Had he taken his identity from it or given his identity to it? Did it even matter now?<br><br>The young man and the sphinx. In his maze. No doubt they were here to murder him. See? The young man even carries a dagger. A blade of copper. Or brass. Or bronze? No matter. A weapon. Gears grind and rend and tear, but they can also be stopped. Slipped. Ruined. Ended. This must not be. He must endure. Must continue. Forever.<br><br>He must send an engine. But which? Which engine? The disassembler. Yes, the disassmebly engine would suit. With a thought, the engine was made active. With a thought the engine was sent to the young man and the sphinx. The disassembly engine would be their undoing as they sought to be his. He must endure. Forever. He must continue. He must complete his purpose and create himself. His destiny was yet to be fulfilled. He still needed to perceive his grandeur and majesty in the nameless past. He still needed to present himself in the unknowable future. He must fulfill his destiny. He must endure. Forever.<br><br>* * *<br><br>Tumbler was unnerved more than he cared to show. If Diego didn't know the true path through the labyrinth, they may both be lost. And the dichotomy of the decor with the sound of gears and the ticking of clocks was getting on his nerves.<br><br>"I must confess that I have no idea, my young lord. One path looks much like the other to me, I'm very much afraid. Have you no way of divining which way we should go? No magics or sciences to call upon? No secret knowledge of inworld?"<br><br>Diego looked down both passages, and they did look pretty much the same to him, too. There was a small, ornately carved end table at the junction of this hallway with the others that contained an assortment of knickknacks that seemed as incongruous as everything else here. A slim volume of poetry by Alfred Lord Tennyson; a stuffed monkey; a map of the New York subway system. This last was worn from much use and disfigured with pencil markings and graffiti. One particular thing jumped out at Diego's eye, though, and that was the number 15. Picking up the map, he looked at it and noticed the now familiar dagger shape pointing to the orange line where it had a station at 15th street. Except that in reality, the orange line doesn't actually have a station at 15th street.<br><br>A familiar sound made the floor rattle - a train passing underfoot. Diego felt like he was standing at a subway station. Tumbler looked even more agitated. "What was that? It sounded large and dangerous. Perhaps even hungry. We must make a decision, and soon, I fear. Right or left?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ryven</strong> on <strong>16-04-2011, 04:16:24</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Diego held the map in his hands.&nbsp; The paper had been worn thin on the edges, tearing in some places.&nbsp; It had creases here and there where it had been folded, crumpled, and then refolded again.&nbsp; Many of the creases looked as if they would give way if the paper were pulled firmly in any direction.&nbsp; It was like a relic of years passed with cryptic writing on it, only the number 15 being of any significance to him.&nbsp; His attention was broken, shattered by the screeching of metal on rails.&nbsp; It was as if he were there, waiting for the subway line.&nbsp; He could see it in his mind clearly the last time he actually waited for the rail line.&nbsp; That seemed so far away now though.&nbsp; He had stepped into some kind of dream world where nothing was as it seemed yet it felt right somehow what he was doing.&nbsp; <br><br>Tumbler cut in again, taking his attention away again from what he was thinking about.&nbsp; "Wh-what?"&nbsp; He was beginning to panic.&nbsp; Suddenly, he felt that this was not like any kind of subway he had been to before.&nbsp; There was something...off.&nbsp; It didn't sound as it should.&nbsp; There was a variation in the pitch and screech of metal, and somehow, he knew it was bad news.<br><br>"I...I don't know.&nbsp; I don't know!"&nbsp; He became frustrated.&nbsp; Up until that point, there had always been some marker, some guiding force telling him where to go as if whatever it was knew he was coming and beckoned him further.&nbsp; Now, he for some reason, didn't feel that.&nbsp; Either whatever or whoever was guiding him was no longer able or they were no longer looking out for him for whatever reason.<br><br>His frustration grew.&nbsp; Diego stuffed the map into his pocket, the paper crumpling as he did.&nbsp; Parts of it tore as he tried to fit it in with the mound of coins he still had within, and all this with the shiny copper looking dagger in his hand.&nbsp; It was apparently too much though.&nbsp; He lost his grip on the weapon, and it fell to the floor, tumbling end over end.&nbsp; It fell a few feet away from him until it settled, but before the young man could make any kind of move to pick it up, it already began to move again.&nbsp; It spun erratically in place almost like a pinwheel against the floor.&nbsp; This way and that, it turned and turned until it shakily settled on the carpeted floor.&nbsp; The dagger seemed to vibrate in place, and the point.&nbsp; It was facing left which was not the original resting position of the dagger.<br><br>He hurried toward it, swooping down to grab it on his way by.&nbsp; "This way!"&nbsp; He called to Tumbler, feeling like if they stayed any longer, they would have been in mortal danger.&nbsp; Diego said a silent thank you to whatever was guiding him.&nbsp; Deep in his mind, he felt it had to be whatever creature he had seen in his dreams.&nbsp; The beast with that voice.&nbsp; It dripped with lust and desire.&nbsp; It embodied pure pleasure.&nbsp; It set his senses alight with want and yearning.&nbsp; It scared him completely to his core for he did not know what would happen if he ever were to meet this thing that called to him.&nbsp; Even thinking about it stirred his loins.&nbsp; A flash of a fantasy passed through his mind.&nbsp; Kneeling, begging, worshiping.&nbsp; What was going on?<br><br>Diego met the door at the end of the hallway, and without any further hesitation, he turned the door handle and pushed through.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>grdell</strong> on <strong>17-04-2011, 06:49:54</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				If there had been any doubt remaining in Tumbler's mind as to whether or not the blade now in Diego's possession was the fabled Blade of Truant Passage, it evaporated as he watched the dagger spin in place and point out their way. It seemed insane, but Diego held an object of such legendary power that men had fought wars over the mere possibility of finding it, and he had come across it by chance in a vendor's stall in the Dark Bazaar? Once more, he felt the tendrils of destiny wrapping themselves ever tighter around them, binding him to Diego in inexorable ways. His sense of self-preservation was screaming for him to abandon the young human, but he could no longer afford that luxury - especially given that he now found himself in the Labyrinth of the Clockwork King fleeing from the Screaming Vengeance. The End Times were upon them, and he had a feeling that none of his senses could be counted on for anything anymore. The rules were changing, and he knew not into what.<br><br>Diego was running in the direction the Blade had pointed out to him, and Tumbler flew as quickly as he could to keep up. There was a door ahead, and as Diego ran through it, Tumbler risked a glance over his shoulder. His blood ran cold at what he saw, and he gave out an involuntary little squeal of terror. The opposite hallway - previously papered in obnoxious pink roses - had become dark as freshly spilled blood as the walls rent themselves and twisted into tortured shapes around a great mechanical face of pure hate. The screech and wail of tearing metal seemed to fill the entire labyrinth. Gears spun around and throughtout the horrible visage, dark as wrought iron and lubricated in black ichor.<br><br>And it was closing on them with terrible speed.<br><br>"I have no time to explain everything, young lord, but you must plunge the dagger into the next wall we face. Do not hesitate. Cut through, keeping your destination firmly in mind. And please be quick about it!"<br><br>One spindly arm, ending in claws longer than Tumbler's whole body was reaching toward them even as he spoke.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ryven</strong> on <strong>17-04-2011, 18:06:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The shrill cry of Tumbler's voice crying out in a rather fearful squeal was not something Diego had become accustomed to.&nbsp; He risked a glance over his own shoulder to see the small sphinx flying his little wings off, and behind him was something straight out of an engineer's nightmare.&nbsp; Gears both turned and changed to shapes that seemed to not even make sense.&nbsp; The air was filled with screeching and grinding of metal along with the crunching destruction of walls and knickknacks as they were torn asunder.<br><br>"Holy shit!!"&nbsp; The young man cried out and began to run faster than he ever remembered.&nbsp; He couldn't remember running faster when he was fleeing from rival gang members opening fire on him.&nbsp; The fear he felt now was unlike anything he had ever felt before.&nbsp; It ran throughout him and shook him to his core.&nbsp; He could barely hear Tumbler's voice trying to cut through the horror surrounding him, but somehow he was able to understand though it made no sense to him.&nbsp; Where exactly would he go? And how would this dagger even cut through a wall such as these.&nbsp; It did not seem near as powerful as the screaming metal void of death that was chasing them.<br><br>His mind, at once, scrambled for where to go.&nbsp; The only places he knew were outside of this underworld.&nbsp; The dark bazaar was not an option either for surely the Screaming Vengeance would still be there tearing a path of destruction through its colorful landscape of tents.&nbsp; He had to think of something though.&nbsp; The wall was fast approaching.&nbsp; They couldn't afford to run much further for the speed of the mechanical menace behind them was going to overtake them both soon.<br><br>"I don't know...I don't know!"&nbsp; He began to say to himself, taking quick glances down to the dagger.&nbsp; In its pristine, shining surface, he noted a flash of something other than his distorted face.&nbsp; For a moment, he saw...a beast.&nbsp; A devil.&nbsp; A creature.&nbsp; The smell of wet fur filled his nostrils once more.&nbsp; His loins stirred, and he held back a moan.&nbsp; Was that where he should be?&nbsp; Is it another sign?&nbsp; He was getting tired of this.&nbsp; He was frustrated.&nbsp; He'd been nearly killed several times now.&nbsp; All he wanted to have was an answer of what was happening and what did it have to do with him.&nbsp; By now, he had figured something about him was not like others.&nbsp; Some aspect was different, but he had no idea what it was.&nbsp; Clearly, it was important enough to be chased after and be killed over.&nbsp; He just wanted answers.&nbsp; He didn't want to run anymore.&nbsp; Somehow, the answers he sought would only be satisfied by this one being...this one creature who taunted him at every turn with all the desire he ever wanted.<br><br>"Dammit...who are you?&nbsp; Who are you?!"&nbsp; He began to mutter under his breath before becoming louder.&nbsp; Suddenly, the emotions of fear mixed with that of anger.&nbsp; His life had been turned upside down, and he knew it was because of that creature.&nbsp; The dagger in his hand became his weapon, and in his mind, he would plunge it deep into the heart of this beast for what he had done.&nbsp; In his mind he could see it clearly.&nbsp; He swung back, clutching the dagger in his own hand, and with a great strike forward, his mind saw the dagger plunge downward.&nbsp; Instead of reaching the massive furry chest of the beast, he hit the wall.&nbsp; The lapse of reality had ended, but the wonder of this world still remained.&nbsp; The dagger cut through the wall like hot iron through butter.&nbsp; &nbsp;The wall separated seemingly on its own as if claiming so much rudeness for blocking his passage.&nbsp; Diego couldn't believe it, but there was only a split second of wonderment before his momentum caused his foot to misstep and throw him into a stumbling ball of limbs as he crashed through the new opening.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>grdell</strong> on <strong>18-04-2011, 19:41:53</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The Umber King sat in his throne and brooded over the fate of Baron Sanguinus. The Baron had always been a loyal subject, and his faithful agent in the Dark Bazaar. But even now, the Dark Bazaar was being destroyed by the Screaming Vengeance - a creature created by the Followers of the Hand in his own image. Their readings of the Prophecies were causing them to unintentionally cause many of them to come to pass. In their desire to preserve a way of life that was already dying around them, they would destroy all, the misguided fools.<br><br>He was wondering how best to tell the other members of the Court of Night of the Baron's demise when he let loose a scream that rent the air with terrible pain. He felt as if someone had just stabbed him in the heart with a white-hot blade. What could have penetrated so many of his defenses to commit an assault on his person like that? What terrible power had been unleashed now?<br><br>A servant that had rushed forward to attend to his lord found his throat in the Umber King's powerful grasp. "Find the Keeper of Relics," growled the immense, furred man. "Tell him to check on the safety of the Blade of Truant Passage." He let go, and the servant stumbled from the room, grasping his throat and wheezing.<br><br>It was the only thing that he knew of powerful enough to cause what he had just endured. If it was missing, then he was in more danger than he had supposed. And the Chosen One had no defences against its power at all. If it was gone, and in the hands of one who wished him ill, then was the Princeling safe? He waited for the report from the Keeper of Relics with a new emotion growing in him: fear. Fear as he had not felt in a thousand years or more.<br><br>* * *<br><br>Mr. Quick and Mr. Vane stood before the gates of the Temple of One Thousand Sorrows. Though they were famous for their quick tempers and lack of patience, one did not rush The Lady. The Queen of Ice and Snow, The Winter Lady, The Azure Queen, she had too many names to list. Perhaps even as many as the Sorrows she was said to be the goddess of. And even as many faces, it was said as well. One never knew if one was looking upon The Lady or not, as no one living - save one - knew what her true face looked like.<br><br>It was at her patience that the Followers of The Hand waited. It was to their surprise, then, that the snake-woman greeted them.<br><br>"Salacia, what a pleasant surprise," said Mr. Quick, oozing artificial charm from every pore.<br><br>"Spare me your smarm, false man. The Lady has sent me to inform you that she is not seeing petitioners today."<br><br>"We only bring news. Inform The Lady that the Screaming Vengeance has come unto the Dark Bazaar. Baron Sanguinus is dead, and the Princeling walks the Golden Path."<br><br>Salacia looked momentarily worried at the mention at the Screaming Vengeance. She knew the importance of that figure in the Prophecies of Ending. But she also knew that the Followers of the Hand were first-class deceivers. She chose not to believe, but she would report the news. If The Lady found out that she had withheld information from her, she would be most displeased.<br><br>"Of course I shall tell her. Now begone, foul things."<br><br>Mr. Vane's hand moved to enter his jacket, but Mr. Quick laid his hand on his associate's arm, staying the action. "Of course, gracious lady. May fair tidings attend you this day." He bowed and backed away, not trusting Salacia any more than she trusted them. He watched as she slithered her way back into the temple.<br><br>"Why do we suffer that creature to live?" asked Mr. Vane when she was out of sight.<br><br>"She plays her part, Mr. Vane, as do we. As do we all. But her time in the game nears its end, and I fear we shall be denied the pleasure of being the ones to see her quit of this life. The Lady's intentions are unfathomable, my friend, but her methods are most efficacious. And her will is paramount in all things, yes?"<br><br>"The Lady's will be done," recited Mr. Vane in a chanting, singsong voice.<br><br>"The Lady's will be done," answered Mr. Quick as they turned and left the presence of the Temple.<br><br>* * *<br><br>Diego woke, unaware that he had even lost consciousness, in a vast underground cavern. Tumbler moaned quietly next to him as he stirred as well.<br><br>"Didn't quite keep a destination in mind, did we, young sir? But something happened, oh yes, something dire happened. I know not where we are. This place is not familiar to me."<br><br>The ever-present ticking and tocking of the Clockwork King's mad realm was still all around them, though now its sound was different. It was softer, yet somehow more sharply focused. It seemed to be the turning over of one enormous machine, rather than the endless ticking of a multitude of clocks. There was little light, but it was enough to see the enormous... thing at one end of the huge room. A mass of gleaming brass gears, intertwining and in constant motion, with no discernable pattern or purpose.<br><br>"Blessings take my tail," murmured Tumbler. "Could that be the Clockwork King himself?"<br><br>A faint voice could barely be heard over the sound of the grinding gears. It spoke in endless loops of near nonsense about enduring, continuing. It spoke of circles within circles and of creating itself. It spoke of a man whose name was lost to time and memory.<br><br>"I have heard tales of the presence of the King. It is said that he was once a man much like yourself. A human from Inworld. But his obsessions drove him to recreate himself, little by little, until there was nothing left of the man but the mind of gears that had driven him mad. It is a terrifying tale to tell the young ones, indeed."<br><br>Tumbler had pressed himself against Diego's leg, as cats do, and the young man could feel the sphinx trembling. He was obviously very frightened or very cold, and it was actually quite warm in the chamber.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ryven</strong> on <strong>22-04-2011, 22:14:07</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Diego groaned and began to feel himself stirring.&nbsp; He was in an uncomfortable position on the cold ground.&nbsp; It felt like some kind of metal or maybe stone.&nbsp; Whatever it was, he couldn't clearly see as he opened his eyes and tried to move.&nbsp; He must have fallen down after running through the opening in the wall.&nbsp; His eye did catch a glimpse of the orangey copper metal of the dagger which he quickly grabbed as that familiar feeling of obsession crept back in his mind.&nbsp; It only seemed to peek out when the blade was not in his grasp.&nbsp; It was beginning to annoy him, to be honest.&nbsp; It was as if he were addicted to the thing, but it always made him think of this mystery creature he was always chasing after.&nbsp; "Dammit,"&nbsp; he grunted out as he pushed himself up.<br><br>Tumbler's words only annoyed him more.&nbsp; No, of course he didn't have a destination in mind.&nbsp; Where the hell was he supposed to go?&nbsp; Definitely not back to the bazaar.&nbsp; The only places he knew of where back in the city, and somehow, going back didn't see right at all.&nbsp; It was odd.&nbsp; He'd once felt so at home back in the city.&nbsp; He could remember times when he was younger and away with his grandmother.&nbsp; He always wished to be back.&nbsp; Now those feelings were all but gone.&nbsp; The only drive he felt was an unexplainable push to move forward, wherever that would bring him.<br><br>"No shit." He muttered in reply to Tumbler's words.<br><br>He turned toward the noise just as the little sphinx let out a dire gasp of fear and astonishment.&nbsp; His own eyes laid on the mass of gears resembling something of a man.&nbsp; His voice seemed to permeate the air all around them, speaking of everything and nothing.&nbsp; It sounded of complete gibberish, the crazy musings of an insane being lost to this world.&nbsp; Diego couldn't blame him though.&nbsp; He was starting to feel the pressure of everything that had happened so far.&nbsp; None of it seemed real, and he wasn't sure if any of it was.&nbsp; He'd just been going through all this with blind faith.&nbsp; He could be batshit crazy already without even realizing it.<br><br>Tumbler spoke and he heard the little sphinx, but he couldn't really respond.&nbsp; He kept looking at the being, deciding if that were going to be his fate as well.&nbsp; Would he become trapped down here to become some sort of abomination to linger here throughout the ages and terrorize anyone and anything that dared to enter.&nbsp; Seemed like a damn waste of time.&nbsp; Diego was not getting any calmer from this.&nbsp; He felt Tumbler rub against his leg, his body shaking but he didn't really react to it.&nbsp; Instead, he continued to stare forward at the gibbering mash of gears that seemed to inhabit that dark place.&nbsp; Diego wasn't scared nor was he running.&nbsp; There had been too much of that already.&nbsp; He was through.&nbsp; He wanted some god damned answers, and if it took ripping apart this mechanical piece of shit one gear at a time to accomplish that, he would fucking do that.&nbsp; He glanced to the dagger in his hand.&nbsp; The young man didn't remember gripping the handle so tightly that he'd lost feeling in his fingers.&nbsp; He eyed the blade which he pointed directly at the mechanical menace that was the Clockwork King.<br><br>"Listen up, you piece of shit!&nbsp; I don't know what you want or even know what the hell you are, but I'm not running away from your sorry ass anymore!&nbsp; I either want some answers or I want you to fucking let me out of here!!&nbsp; You hear me!?&nbsp; My name is Diego Rodriguez and you will fucking answer me!!"&nbsp; He yelled out more angry than he could remember.&nbsp; Diego pointed the dagger rather threateningly at the mass of gears.&nbsp; It was odd what happened when one was at the end of their wit, and Diego was making a stand.&nbsp; Either he would get out of there or he would be killed by that thing.&nbsp; Either way he wouldn't be simply running blindly forward anymore.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>grdell</strong> on <strong>18-05-2011, 06:31:05</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Time. Time out of mind. Endless. Unendurable. Round and round and round again, always the same, always changing. The gears turned and the Clockwork King turned them. Or was it turned with them? He was no longer sure.<br><br>But now, something new. Something different. The man-boy and the sphinx, here, in his chamber. How had that happened? Had he dispatched the Disassembler? He must have done. He had decided it should be so, and his decisions were made reality in this place.<br><br>But the Disassembler had never failed him before. Even now, he could feel its wrath as it sought those that had escaped it. Lost in the Labyrinth. The Clockwork King wondered if he would ever allow it back now that it had failed him.<br><br>Threats. Challenges. harsh words. The man-boy was angry. And then he uttered his name.<br><br>Names have power. And this Diego Rodriguez had just given his up willingly. Some unknown and unknowable power washed over the Clockwork King's senses like icy water. No one had ever told him their true name before.<br><br>For just a moment, the gears stopped in his shock and surprise. All of them, everywhere. His entire realm held its breath for the briefest moment, but it was enough. The gears had turned ceaselessly forever, but this young man from Inworld had caused them to falter.<br><br>And in that moment, the Clockwork King saw himself. Saw what he had become. Saw what his madness had caused him to change himself into.<br><br>And then he remembered. For the first time in a century, he remembered who he was.<br><br>From the massed jumble of brass emerged a conglomeration of gears that was roughly the shape and size of a man. It had discernable features, but they were too alien to read with any certainty. The clockwork man approached Diego and bowed.<br><br>"And I, young man, am - or rather, was - Charles Babbage. I, too, am from the world you called home." His voice, though slightly mechanical, was clear and well-mannnered, with a British accent. "I thank you for releasing me from my madness. I am in your debt."<br><br>Tumbler didn't know what to make of this new development, and hid behind Diego's legs. "I don't like this, young master, not one bit. He claims to be from your world, but he doesn't speak the way you do. It may be some deception to gain your trust. Be wary."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ryven</strong> on <strong>09-04-2012, 16:16:58</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				His heart held itself still in the bottom of his throat as the gears stopped.&nbsp; He was sure he was going to die.&nbsp; Right there on the floor of that forsaken place of gears and machinery.<br><br>What actually happened was nothing short of unexpected.&nbsp; The thing actually answered him, whatever that thing was.&nbsp; A man-shaped grouping of gears had emerged from the chaos of his surroundings to reveal himself as Charles Babbage.&nbsp; Diego eyed him up and down, deciding if the man was actually who he said he was.&nbsp; There was no way of knowing, and trying to deliberate on it would do no good.&nbsp; He was so far down the proverbial and perhaps literal rabbit hole that certainty was a luxury now.&nbsp; Diego wasn't really sure he was awake even as what was happening seemed too surreal.<br><br>Diego wasn't going to continue with his anger though.&nbsp; He'd begun learning about this place, and if he wanted to survive, he had to play by their rules.&nbsp; He gave a bow to the man known as the Clockwork King, before standing straight again and addressing him.&nbsp; "No, I am in your debt for allowing me safe passage through your realm," he said as he scooted Tumbler away.&nbsp; Being skeptical at this point would have done no good.&nbsp; He was at the mercy of the man made of grinding gears standing before him.<br><br>"May I ask, how long have you been here?" Diego said, trying to get a feel for the man and if his story made sense.&nbsp; Not that it really mattered.&nbsp; The next order of business was to get moving.&nbsp; He had an obsession to find that...thing.&nbsp; That creature, and when he found him, he wasn't sure what he would do.&nbsp; Some part of him wanted to stab that dagger straight into his heart, but another part made his knees weak, his heart flutter, and his groin stir just by thinking about him.<br><br>"I have one other thing to ask, Mr. Babbage.&nbsp; Is there a way out of your realm from here?&nbsp; I'm looking..."&nbsp; he paused, wondering if he should spell out exactly who he was looking for.&nbsp; Diego figured it couldn't hurt though.&nbsp; "I'm looking for a man.&nbsp; He is large and...well, he is covered in hair.&nbsp; I keep feeling that he is calling to me," Diego explained and hoped the Clockwork King would show him one more kindness by allowing him out.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Of Dreams and Monsters (grdell &amp; Ryven)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>grdell</strong> on <strong>01-08-2013, 02:01:26</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				In the ruins of what had once been the Dark Bazaar, the Screaming Vengeance stood and howled out its rage and frustration. Its mind was shredded, its purpose forgotten. It craved only release now; release from its unendurable suffering. But there was no release. The magics that bound this creature to its painful existence were too strong - there was no power in this world or any of the others that could free him.<br><br>He felt a motion by his ankle and looked down. One of the few last survivors, horribly injured and mutilated by his rampage, was trying to grasp his ankle even as it looked up into his face with a mute plea for mercy. He looked down at the creature with incomprehension mingled with contempt. His hands and feet were on fire with an unending agony, an agony that drowned out any possibility of rational thought. What was this thing's suffering compared to his own? He reached down and grasped the figure, bringing it up to his own distorted face and examining it carefully.<br><br>* * *<br><br>Incaria had spent centuries peddling the fruit that her family grew. She knew now that she would never see them again, and that brought sorrow to her heart. Sorrow that almost - but not quite completely - overrode the terror of the creature before her. Its wild swings had destroyed her booth and her stock of butter berries and everything else she had in this world. She had crawled mostly out of the wreckage, her shock of green hair matted down with blood and juice, and taken a look around her. The Bazaar was ablaze and in ruins. There was screaming everywhere, but none as constant as the Screaming Vengeance itself.<br><br>She remembered the Prophecies of Ending and prayed to her various gods that her children and grandchildren would either endure into the next age or at least come to a quick and painless death. She didn't want them to suffer through what she was witnessing: the utter and total destruction of their entire way of life. All at the hands of this screaming beast. Because of the Princeling... the Chosen One. The one with the sphinx that she had sold the fruit to. The faerie gold that he had used to pay for his purchase would have sustained her family another season, but now it burned hot in her pocket at the feeling of his betrayal of her trust.<br><br>But she was nothing but a fruit merchant while he was destined for far greater things, if the prophecies were to be believed. And why shouldn't they be? Was she not seeing them come true before her very eyes? She tried to finish pulling herself out from under the ruins of her old life only to discover that one of her legs was not working anymore. She looked down and saw that it was pierced through and pinned in place. She lay down in place and wept. What could she do against such mindless cruelty, against such wanton violence and destruction?<br><br>In her despair, she felt a presence. There was a sudden chill in the air, and she could have sworn that she could see the color blue, although there was very little blue allowed in the Bazaar - it did not do to invite the presence of <em>them</em>. But the feeling persisted and she felt a chilly resolve sweep over her. She saw the cleaver that the next stall owner used to chop up the meat that he sold and she reached for it. The mutilated remains of her leg came off easily enough under its onslaught.<br><br>She found the Screaming Vengeance and was about to plunge the cleaver into its leg when she caught the scent of him. It was a scent she'd not smelled in over three hundred years, and it reminded her so strongly of her late husband's musky odor that she swooned and dropped the weapon. She took a moment to drink in the aroma of sex that made her mound swell as it had not done in decades. She suddenly realized that the Screaming Vengeance was beautiful in a darkly brutal way. His raw power emanated in waves that rolled off him like his scent and washed away her resistance. His enormous manhood - fully as large as her arm - swung in front of him and she realized that she would forfeit whatever immortal soul she may or may not have to have that thing inside her. Her sex was already pulsating in such anticipation as to be almost painful to be void of any stimulation...<br><br>She reached out in supplication and stroked the creature's ankle. The deep fur was silky smooth and luxuriant where it wasn't matted with blood and debris and it only made her want him all the more to touch him like this. She looked up and saw him look down at her. She wanted to plead with him, to beg him to fuck her like she hadn't been fucked since she was a youngling and wilder, but found that her voice wouldn't work. She could utter no sound in his magnificent presence, almost as if the sheer power of his sex blocked her words before they could form.<br><br>He reached down and grasped her body. She felt herself lifted up to be examined. She prayed she would be found worthy of his attentions. She wanted to feel that monstrous cock inside her more than she had ever wanted anything in her life even though she knew it would probably kill her to be penetrated by something so large. His face was distorted in agony and his unending scream blew past her in hot waves of foul breath. But none of that mattered... only his sex mattered and she had to have it.<br><br>Something of her desire seemed to be communicated to the beast as he roughly dropped her onto the relatively flat surface of a nearby overturned stall. She moved her one good leg aside to allow him to see her swollen mound and nodded at him. He didn't even seem to think twice or bother to look before he twitched his enormous cock into place and rammed inside her with one brutal stroke. She felt a terrible agony and an overwhelming pleasure at once. The monster's terrible member ripped through her internal organs as if they were no more substantial than dreams and she knew she would not survive more than a few more moments, but those moments were the most sublime of her life. She felt that she was being consumed by sex, and in that moment, she could think of no better way to die. She laid back and found her voice at last, screaming out her last moments of agony and ecstasy, her voice mingling with that of the Screaming Vengeance.<br><br>* * *<br><br>Dominique thought she saw light ahead. The strange tunnel covered in thorny vines seemed at last to be coming to an end. Whatever lay ahead, however, was probably going to be terrible, judging from the sounds she heard. The sounds of death and destruction intensified as she got closer, and now she could make out distinct screams, one of which carried some resonant harmonics that made her wet again. She had to stop her hand from wanting to stroke herself as she identified that voice as the... thing that was once Marco. At least she knew she was on the right path.<br><br>She walked out into a scene from hell. It looked like it had once been some kind of market - there were stalls and merchandise, but it was all broken and haphazardly strewn around the huge cavern. And there were... well, not people but certainly some kind of creatures - but bodies were torn, faces contorted in the agony of their last moments, and everything was covered with blood. She tried not to wretch up whatever little was in her stomach.<br><br>Turning a corner, she saw the Marco-thing, and she thought she saw that he was raping a young girl. Oh, <em>that</em> was not going to stand.<br><br>"Hey! Fucktard!" She called out even as she ran. She had no idea what on earth she was going to be able to do to that creature, but she wasn't just going to stand there and let him violate some girl. Her anger swirled around her, and the world turned blue...<br><br>* * *<br><br>The Screaming Vengeance heard the words just as he was finishing up with the waif. Whatever she had been, she was certainly dead now, torn asunder by his enormous manhood. He felt somehow invigorated by this, but even this pleasure did nothing to ease the unceasing agony of his existence.<br><br>He turned his head and saw something that was vaguely familiar heading to ward him. He tried to imagine that this apparition was no threat to him, but she was surrounded by a nimbus of a bright blue energy that he knew on some instinctual level he must not come in contact with. Not yet, anyway... not until the Time of Reckoning. Not until the gods of this place themselves were to come to ruin.<br><br>He turned and ran.<br><br>* * *<br><br>Through the strange blue haze, Dominique saw something she thought she would never see - Marco fled the scene. Well, not that it was really Marco anymore, but she didn't believe that whatever he had become would turn and run, either. He loped with an animal grace that she knew she'd never be able to keep up with, much less overtake. She turned her attention to his victim.<br><br>The girl was clearly dead, bloody wounds covered her whole form. She was small, and clearly not human - well, not completely anyway, and she had no real way of telling. Missing one leg from mid-thigh down would be enough to kill anyone, but she also looked like she had been raped by a fucking firetruck. What had Marco done to her? And why? Jesus Christ, she had to stop that psycho beast no matter what.<br><br>She felt her rage distill and concentrate inside her, forming an icy-cold, diamond-hard splinter in her heart. If she could have seen herself, she would have been surprised to see that her eyes had turned a deep electric cobalt blue.<br><br>And so it came to pass that the Priestess came into her true power.<br><br>* * *<br><br>The Clockwork King, the man that had once been Charles Babbage a lifetime ago, regarded Diego carefully. The young man was searching for the Umber King, and by ancient decree the Clockwork King was one of his sworn protectors. It would not do to send a threat into his presence, so he must judge carefully.<br><br>The boy carried the Blade of Truant Passage and was accompanied by a Sphinx. These factors alone would have given him pause, but there was also a certain quality about him that made Babbage reconsider. There seemed... not an innocence, exactly, but certainly a naivety that seemed to mitigate any threat. What did the boy want with the Umber King, exactly? Only one way to find out for sure.<br><br>"In answer to your first question, Diego Rodriguez, I have been here forever. And yet, it has also only been just over a century. You see, time is not a linear progression. Well, not here, anyway. One of the things you must learn if you are to exist here in Midian is that the rules of reality to which you have become accustomed no longer suffice. This is a world of mystery and myth and magic. Your Sphinx there may be able to help you in some small way with this."<br><br>"Hardly small, I should think," mumbled Tumbler from behind Diego's legs.<br><br>The Clockwork King either ignored this or failed to hear it. "And in answer to your second question, yes there is a safe and easy way out of my realm that I can grant to you. I can set your feet safely upon the Golden Path that will lead you to the Umber King, but it is up to you to travel it to its conclusion and I cannot guarantee your safety once you pass the borders of my domain. Many perils yet remain between you and he."<br><br>He lowered his head and summoned up another engine. The Compiler had not been used in centuries, it seemed, and was slow to respond, but now that the King had resumed his full power, nothing in his domain could resist his call.<br><br>"I have summoned the Compiler to aid you. It will show you the way out of my realm and set you upon the Golden Path where it resumes upon the Plains of Scarlet and Crimson. Fare well, Diego Rodriguez. May you achieve your goal. My debt to you is repaid, yet I would ask of you a boon nonetheless. I must know - what is your true purpose? Why do you seek the Umber King?"
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