Solitary

[ferohers]

You awake in a maximum security cell on in the prison on Neglesheth, you notice that your cell door is opened a little bit. You walk up to it, open it the rest of the way, and notice that there is no one around. No voices yelling, nothing. Seeing as your on the top floor, you run down the corridor checking all the cells for others.

[ferohers]

Ferohers awoke to a splitting headache. He felt behind his left ear, and as he touched it he felt excruciating pain shoot though his head. He quickly pulled back his hand to find it wet with blood. He looked down at the blood and flashed back. He was running through a forest running as hard as he could, he felt as though his chest was going to burst, but he pressed on. Running and running until he tripped and then...darkness. He came out of the flash back finding himself clutching his shirt and shaking. As he started to relax he felt a breeze that sent a shudder down his spine. He whipped around to find his cell door ajar and a breeze was coming through it. He slowly stood up and went to take a step but faltered and fell to his knees, his head exploded with pain when he fell. “dammit” he muttered through clenched teeth. Slowly he rose again, this time he clutched the wall for support and slowly made his way to the cell door. As he opened it, he felt a cold breeze blow past him, it felt good, refreshing, but it smelled of decaying flesh, but he didn't care, he was used to that smell. He looked out the door and noticed that there were no guards, he stepped out and looked down the passage way. There were no prisoners either. “What the hells going on” he thought to himself. Slowly he began to walk down the passage way. Feeling the occasional breeze. He slowly made his way down the halls searching for anyone or anything.

[Grim Jestor]

In the dread prison of Neglesheth, maximum security wing, there is only one way out-- tossed over the cliff's edge in a crude burial shroud, to either sink deep into the ocean and begin the slow process of decay, or break into pieces on the rocks for the carrion birds which flock around this place as if it were some kind of avian paradise. In Neglesheth, no one is innocent, not the inmates and especially not the sadistic guards, who are more savage beast than man and take perverse delight in the despair and death which surrounds them.

In this place, there are neither second chances nor anything like hope, and thus the one known only as Simon of Northlands did not so much as glance at the door upon waking from the solace that only nightmares can provide. He had been here for as long as he could remember, and could no longer even picture such a thing as sunlight, or understand the concept of being free... but the eerie silence, worse by far than the usual screams of horror, finally caused him to walk close enough to his cell door to notice that it was open-- not a difficult task in a ten by ten stone box. The door was not only open, but even creaked back and forth slightly on its hinges, as if a wind were blowing from someplace... but Simon could feel no breeze, and almost did not even remember the existence of such a thing. Carefully pushing the heavy iron door fully open, he scanned the narrow hallway for signs of life, but could see nothing in the sudden smoky brightness thrown off by a guttering torch hanging on the wall on the far end. It was almost always dark here, except for a faint grayness which would define the walls of his world for a few minutes at noon each day. The smoke left him gasping, and the torchlight seared his night eyes, and left him reeling and confused for a few minutes. As he recovered, the thought came to him that he could not remember how long he had been in this place, or what his life was like before the walls closed in, or if he had ever lived anywhere else.

Making his way cautiously out of his cell, Simon glanced around quickly to see if there was anything he could use for a weapon, but saw nothing but what looked like an ancient leg-bone, smoothed by age but gnawed by many teeth on one end. It was most likely human, and although the thought filled him with a kind of revulsion, the weight of the bone felt good in his hand, and it was a familiar feeling. Keeping his new bludgeon close to his body, trying to hide it against the side of his filthy clothing-canvas pants of unknown origin, as well as a very old and threadbare shirt- he slowly headed for the torchlight, making sure there was no one creeping up behind him. He did not even glance into the other cells, for the smell was enough to tell him that nothing could be alive inside.

Almost too late, Simon saw something like a person, although it did not move at all correctly, silhouetted in the low light not far ahead. It seemed to be limping and clutching at its head, and did not appear to know that he was there. Surely it could not be one of the guards, unless it was very near death, but he tightened his grip on the leg bone all the same. As the figure drew nearer, Simon could see that it was definitely a fellow prisoner, and in a low voice called out, "Who be ye, stranger? Simon of Northlands I am, and your fellow prisoner. Be we well-met?"

[ferohers]

"we are" replied ferohers. he could barely see the man, but he saw enough to know the man was carrying something resembling a club. and seeing as he was in no condition to fight, he thought it best to allie w/ this stranger until his strength and health had returned to him. "where is everyone? have you any clue as to why the cells are all unlocked and the guards have left the prison?" he asked in mock question. He knew that this man didnt know, why else would the man wonder if he was a friend or foe. he thought it best to try to make friends w/ this stranger so he quickly chuckled and said, "course you don't, i assume no one does." he then looked at the man and held out his hand w/ a smile on his face hoping the stranger would take it to signify that they meant each other no harm. he held his hand up and waited......

[Grim Jestor]

The one who called himself Simon did not reply at first, sensing something false in the stranger's reply. As had always worked best for him in the past, he knew that he should have simply struck while his enemy was weak, thus removing any future complications, but the weirdness of his liberation, if this could be called such a thing amidst the stench of the decaying dead, called for something different. Here in Neglesheth there was no such thing as an innocent man, and Simon knew that this one must have been at least as deserving of death as himself, but the half-grimace, half-smile which the stranger struggled to produce finally caused him to take the man's hand, albeit briefly, and try for a grin of his own. Such an expression was foreign to a man awaiting the inevitable slow death in prison, and he was only partially successful in almost the same way as his new companion. "A name would be helpful, friend. I need not your true name, for names have power, but what shall I call ye?"

[Aflyctus]

In this shadows of this dungeon, a figure watched. If there had been more light, it would have been debatable if he was substantial. The robe that cowl that covered his face made it a challenge to understand his purpose. As the prisoners come aware of their situation, it seems this figure only is content to watch.

As he watched a meeting between two of the inmates, Simon and one who had not identified himself, his hope for violence in the early hours of this scenario faded...

[ferohers]

Ferohers laughed inside his head, which caused it to hurt a little bit. Something about this man made him uneasy. He seemed all to willing to befriend him, Ferohers thought about before the encouter.He would have killed the man if he hadn't been injured.But this stranger seemed eager almost foolish. But perhaps this was the strangers facade and it was quite good, although he preferred to be alone he didnt think he could survive alone in the prison.A saying he often used came to him "better to befriend and betray" so he offered a false name "my name" he said slowly "is Tsaltoeerf its a Sylvant name after my late mother. So what is the plan of escape, friend?" Ferohers wasnt sure if the stranger would believe him,it sounded true enough, but this man seemd to be very mysterious. Ferohers didnt trust him at all. But inside he laughed, i was fun to play with the minds of others, he had used many false names before, but he was particularly proud of this one. Free at last he thought as he waited for the strangers reply...

[Grim Jestor]

Simon pretended to stumble over the stranger's name, hoping to catch him off guard and thus gain the advantage, "Tsat.. Tsaltor... I believe I'll just call you Salt, and leave it at that. It not be your real name anyway." He knows that he has spoken the truth from the odd aura of mirth which seems to emanate from the stranger's whole being, and knows that if the light were better he would see Tsaltoeerf struggling not to smile. This one was a joker, or at least pretended to be, and Simon knew he'd have to stay on his guard if he expected to survive for very long. But Simon of Northlands was no stranger to survival, and decided that if only one of the two would live to see freedom, Simon would be that one. He adjusted his grip on the leg bone club, making sure that he could easily swing it if he needed to, and put on his best show of jovial trust. "Well, Salt my new friend, what do you say to getting out of here? Heading for the exit? Hitting the road? Why don't you lead us on our way, then?"

[Laurana]

She sits, solitary, in a room at the end of the hall, silent for a while. Her ears, human though they are, twitch a bit as she hears the sound of voices down the corridor. She stands, her black-sandaled feet kicking up layers of dust and a pebble or two. A yawn passes her lips before she raises onto her head the hood of her black, tattered cloak and leans back against the wall of her 'pleasant' cell, not bothering to notice the opened door. She starts to sing a song from another language, her vocals soft and gentle as they carry throughout the cell and down the passage. The notes seem far too out-of-place in such a bleak, ominous area.

[Grim Jestor]

In the smoke-filled dimness, Simon of Northlands paused for a moment to listen, for he thought he heard the sound of someone singing, from a place far away, high and strange and utterly alien to this evil place. Completely ignoring the other prisoner, Simon walked slowly, as if in a deep trance, toward the far end of the cell block, toward the strange but compelling song. He could not understand the words, but at the same time he could understand, as if it were his native language. It was something about freedom, something about escape, and beyond the impressions that came to his mind he did not know or care anything else. The leg bone dropped from his hand as he half-stumbled, half-ran all the way to the open cell door. Within sat a dark, cloaked shape, nearly invisible but somehow holding itself aloof from the death and decay in this place, as if it were merely a visitor on its way to someplace else.

The tattered condition of the cloak, which he gradually was able to see as his eyes adjusted to the near-perfect night of the cell's interior, gave away the fact that this one, too, was a prisoner of some kind... and not dead, not like all the others. Simon finally found his voice, just as the final notes of that strange song faded, and he found himself talking before he had even thought of what to say. "A live one, one more live one, to escape with us to the lands of light and wind. Simon of Northlands, and I don't know why I am not dead. My friend, Salt, is... somewhere... back there." He gestured vaguely with one arm in the direction from which he had come, "Come with us and live, or stay and die. Your choice."

[Laurana]

She raised her head to look over at the one who entered her cell. Underneath the hood, even in the dark, an uncommonly bright (even moreso amid all the dismal surroundings) smile shined with its own light amid a fair face with its upper half still hidden amid the hood. She went back to the common tongue, saying in a voice tinted with energy, "Stay and die? I wonder if you know Death."
Slowly, she stood, about the height of an average human. Not too tall, not too short. "A trip sounds like fun. I was kicked out of the last little party I wanted to go with. They said I was an inconvenience that couldn't be trusted." Her smile turned gentle, yet her unseen eyes sized up the one before her. He no doubt was a prisoner too. "Don't worry. You're just as sane as I am," she assured him. As to just how 'sane' she is, it can't be said for certain.
"I was informed of all the dead here, and I was sent here. All their souls are long gone, though. No need to really stay. I just think of it as... a break from my problems."
Almost out of nowhere, a tawny-colored, elegant mongoose with a white-tipped tail alighted her shoulder.
"If you and your... Friendly mix of Sodium and Chlorine... NaCl... 'Salt'... are ready to go, I am too. Light sounds fun after all this... dusty place-thingy cells."

[ferohers]

ferohers watched down the dark hallway as simon of the northlands stumbled away, like he had been in a trance. he stumbled tword one of the other solitary cells, then he started to speak, ferohers couldnt make out what he was saying, but he could feel the air of lightness around them all. he was strong in his will power, and wouldnt allow the feeling to take over him. instead he watched simon try to band with another prisoner. "wheres a weapon i can use"? thought ferohers he glanced around, and saw a steel bar, it was covered in dust, it looked like it was from a piece of barred window. he slowly leaned to pick it up, as he grasped it, it felt cold and hard in his hand, he noticed a dark shape just a ways away. But he pretended he hadn't, although he kept his minds eye on the figure, waiting for it to attack. Ferohers looked at the bar he was holding, it was about 3 feet in length and one end was sharp and jagged like it had been broken off of something. He looked down the dim hallway at simon, he thought about going and killing him and this new person but it subsided. he held the bar out infront of him, weighing it, seeing how it felt. it was wonderful to have means to protect himself, of course he had his magic. But in his weakened state he knew using it meant death, or worse. suddenly he fell to his knees and his head hit the edge of the wall sending pain soaring through it, as he flashed back into the forest. he was running again, but then suddenly he stopped. he turned around, he was speaking in magika he was summoning something, an other world god! a black portal opened above him a hand with a chain wrapped aound it emerged and the arm followed, it was black and looked wet. slime seemed to be dripping off of it, it held fire in its hand. he ran to the hand, took the fire, and kicked the beast back throuight the portal, and closed it. Then he looked and saw the emperial guard coming through the trees, he took the fire and started to chant to bend the fire to control it. he broke it in two and threw a piece at one of the guards, it hit him in the chest and knocked him to the ground where it burned all his flesh off in moments. it smelled bittersweet, like rotting flesh. he looked at the remaining guards, and began to manipulate the fire into small spheres that he cast at them. Then he started to create on final sphere, a huge one. if it was cast it would have destroyed the whole kingdom. He prepared to cast it at the guard then he felt a throbbong pain in his shin, he looked down and saw an arrow, and then another hit his arm. Then he began to feel faint, but he had to keep going. He finally went to cast it, then a spell encased him, he looked around. twelve hooded figures all stood around him chanting. The druids had gotten there. he cursed aloud. and cast the sphere at the magical wall he was trapped in, suddenly red was all he could see. he felt weak like someone had just stolen his soul, he felt like a thousand swords had just been stabbed through him. he fell to his side, and in the fire he saw the druids and soldiers being burned. Suddenly he came to he was leaning against the wall his head was still throbbing. He looked down the hallway and saw simon. He watched simon for a long time before he muttered to himself "phamitus phyre.....

[Grim Jestor]

Simon watched the hooded stranger get up to leave her cell, still somehow entranced even though her song had ended long ago. Completely in her thrall, he did not move as she brushed past, completely unaware that there had ever been anyone in the cell at all. Wondering why he was standing there staring into the darkness, he clenched his right hand into a fist, wondering why his leg-bone club was no longer grasped comfortingly there. Slowly, confusedly, he turned around, trying to decide if the shadows which danced in the near-darkness were real or merely imaginary... and then the flash of purely magical fire brought him to his senses as it smashed against the bars of the stranger's cell, narrowly missing him but throwing shards of rusted metal everywhere. Marveling that he was not injured, Simon bent and picked up a long, thin piece of metal that would work as a dagger if he should ever need such a thing, and tucked it secretively into the sparse folds of his tattered prisoner's garment. His memories returned to him all in a flash, the friend or foe that he had met so recently, only to walk off in a trance upon hearing the odd tune sung by... who? The wall was burning, fed by something not of this world, something from... some other place, for what fire could exist which can feed on stone alone? In the sudden brightness Simon caught a glimpse of the strange hooded woman, bending low now over the collapsed body of the one which he had for some reason named Salt, who must have cast that mind-saving fire spell. She, or it, appeared to be performing some kind of incantation or rite over the hunched form, and Simon reached for his makeshift knife as he silently but quickly approached the two of them, ready to kill one to save the other... or kill them both to save himself...

[ferohers]

ferohers had watched simon, seen him relax and become at ease. he didnt know what was in the cell, but he knew it could cause his new.....ally harm. He waited, seeing if simon would recover, finally he called upon the phamitus phyre and tried to cast a small sphere of it at the wall opposite of simon. To reawaken him from this trance. but as he summoned it he grew weak, his arms dropped and he shot it at simon. He saw the sphere of phyre blast at him, it seemed prolonged in time, he felt himself fade, the sphere mingled in his sight even through his crippled state. Then darkness consumed him, he felt like everything was calm, then suddenly from the darkness he awoke, he saw a hooded figure standing over him. The figure looked like a human, it had the shape of a woman. But its voice was not of there relm, it sounded like he was being summoned from his darkness by an angelic being. someone of purity and light, but this figure was cast in shadow, and yet her...its voice was so heavenly to him, he could feel himself being rejuvenated. But there was something stranger about this feeling, he was rejuvenated but he couldnt move, he heard footsteps, and saw simon come running. He went to call out to him, but nothing came, he willed himself to scream to yell, to make it stop, but nothing would come, nothing was happening, she was controlling him , everything he did was under her....its power, but he could think freely, she controlled his body, but he possessed his mind, and he threw a thought to simon "STOP HER" he hissed in simons mind. He knew simon heard him, simon stopped feet away, he saw his face, it looked undecided, simon had faltered, he could tell. Simon wasnt sure if he wanted to stop her, maybe if he waited he could kill both of them. His face betrayed him, and all the fury in ferohers's body exploded out of him. he grasped his metal pole and knocked the figure to the side, ceasing her other world song. Then he looked at simon, and he hated him for his betrayal, he had saved simon from his trance, and he was betrayed the next moment, he was fine though, now he was free of her trance, but she had healed him, and he was now more powerful than he'd been in years. He looked at his hand, he saw the scar in the middle of his hand, felt it grow hot, full of magic that he could use almost endlessly. He looked at simon and said with calmness like steel, " you my friend are a coward, and i dont tolerate cowards, i dont give 2nd chances, but given our present situation, i believe i will grant you my forgiveness. but you owe me a life debt, regardless of your origins, all cultures know that a debt of life is a strong bond, one you would be most foolish to break. Remember that, Simon, coward of the northlands." ferohers looked away fom him in utter disgust. He looked at the crumpled hooded woman figure, he leaned beside her "caritus maximus" he whispered and she came to. He looked at her for a moment then spoke. "Daughter of Eve. Magic is a force that should be excercised wisely, never endanger someone who has power more than yours. Your thoughts of restraining my body were wise, but my mind is a giant to whom has no equal. Next time restrain the forces, not the vessel there carried in. Now arise and band with us. My name is Ferohers, what is yours, fair Daughter of Eve?" He wasnt sure that she'd answer him, but he knew she wouldnt try to harm him, she had seen his power, if only a glimpse. she knew he was a force to be reckoned with, and that gave him reassurance. and so he waited for her answer...

[Laurana]

She raises a black-gloved hand to her mouth under the hood, drawing it back to find a streak of darkened crimson.
"I... do not enjoy bleeding," she said coolly. A hint of steel lay at her voice's core despite the blow she just took. Chances were the coldness was out of injured pride more than injured body. "I do not take orders, and I know no 'binding spells' that would kill you. I sought only to keep your obviously tortured mind from harming yourself farther, if only to make sure nothing... arose from you."
Speaking of arising, she stood up. The mongoose that was previously on her shoulder scurried about her cloak's hem, disgruntled into making small, growling noises.
"My name should not concern you. Just call me... Aura. Makes things easy.
"Well, you two most likely have some sort of screwed-up past, if you can even remember it. How long've you two been stuck in here? I've been here for about five days. I expected it to be a short trip. I expected incorrectly."

[ferohers]

Ferohers stood there looking at her for a moment. Then looked at simon, he saw the blood on her glove. And looked to the steel rod he was holding, he saw blood on it also. he felt a tingling in his mouth. he felt his eyes turn into slits, his vision was suddenly sharp as a hawks, his heart beat slowed. his hearing had become suddenly so acute that he heard the others pulses , the blood running through there veins, he felt his vampric fangs begin to descend, he had to fight it, he closed his eyes and muttered an incantation under his breath and waited til his vampric lust for blood was gone. he looked at her and said solemly "I only remember 3 days so far. i dont know how long i've been here total. but i know i want to leave, so instead of talking about how long we've been, lets talk about how we'll leave. I dont have any idea how to get off this island, even if we get out of the prison. theres bound to be more prisoners, and we have very little to protect ourselves with and the castle is immune to most magic, any ideas?" he looked at his steel rod, and saw thirteen little lines scraped into it, no doubt a prisoner counting his days. he looked down at his scar and then grasped the steel rod in his hands and began to talk in magika and his steel rod began to reshape itself, slowly it took the shape of a blade, he left the bottom the way it was, so his hands could hold on to it. But the rest had turned into a single edge sword. he looked at it, and then tucked it into his belt. and waited for the others....

[Grim Jestor]

Simon watched himself as in some kind of strange dream, as someone who looked very much like him sprinted towards the two hazy shapes, collapsed man and gently singing woman, brandishing something like a dagger, although he did not know where in a place like this he could have found such a thing. He decided that he meant to kill one or both of them, and for some reason he realized that this did not bother him in the slightest. A prisoner for far longer than he could now remember, Simon knew that he must have done some terrible things in the past, and that one or two more notches on his belt would mean nothing to him until he got his memory back... and that might not be until the great judgment at the end of all things. He stopped watching himself for a minute, only slowly realizing that the one which looked very much like Simon of Northlands was slowing, slowing and stopping, in response to the strange tune. Suddenly he was pulled back into his body, yet still he stood there dumbly, like a man in a dream... a dream which shattered with the lightning-quick strike of an old steel bar upon the fragile jawbone of a merciful healer, although surely she was much more than that. Aura, she said her name is... where have I heard that name before? And how could she have possibly spent only five days in maximum security, the place reserved for only the blackest of hearts and the most heinous of crimes... Certain now that just like the two of them, she was lying, Simon made a mental note to keep a close watch on her, but did not reveal his secret thoughts to either of them, for he had not yet decided which--if either-- of them would be a friend among enemies.

Watching in a kind of detached wonder as the one he had so recently named Salt worked such complicated magic-- advanced transmogrification, he was certain-- with hardly any effort spent, Simon wondered what had really happened here as he watched himself run down the hallway with murder in his heart. Some things would never be known, and thus Simon put it all out of his mind for the time being... hearing the strange mage speak something about leaving, Simon answered somewhat sarcastically, "I would suggest, my friends, that we go out through one of the doors and down the outer stairs to ground-level. I've no great desire to spend any more time in this accursed place than I already have, but hey-- I have an open mind and am open to suggestion. I'll let the two of you choose which door we take..."

Simon's half-smile disappeared to be replaced with utter blankness. The makeshift metal-shard dagger was gone from his hands, either dropped or tucked away somewhere within his clothing. Silent and still, but poised to react to anything, Simon waited for one of them to speak...

[Laurana]

She sighs a bit, glancing from under the cloak at the two men as she shifted her weight a bit from one foot to another.
"No matter where I go," she mutters to herself. "Always, always with all the not-trusting... And always getting hit with something... To be honest, I prefer pumpkins to metal bars..."
She tilts her head slightly, listening to the two speak before saying, "... I miss sunlight."
With an air as if her words decided it all, she took the initiative to walk by her two new 'companions', both of which she seems to already be used to. Soon she reaches the end of the hall, and the door there, her sandaled feet tapping the ground along the way as she walks. The mongoose chitters a bit as it follows obediently behind its master. "I suppose it's this way we'd be wanting to go, in that case."

[ferohers]

Ferohers decided that he enjoyed his companions, although he didnt trust either of them to the least bit, he enjoyed them, someone to talk to, if only about small meaningless things. also he had a healer w/ him now, someone who would no doubt help him if it were needed to help the group. he doubted he would need her to heal him again, but he knew having her was a good thing, for now. She stopped and listened to the mongoose talk to her he saw this and a small twitch almost like a grin appeared at the side of his mouth, she can talk to animals, and heal, our new friend has many talents he thought to himself, then he started to walk tword the door she was at, he glanced at simon, he seemed to be blank in expression, taking in his surroundings and companions instead of thinking about what to do. He placed his hand on the hilt of his makeshift sword. he had the sudden urge to run simon through again. but it quickly subsided. he began after aura again. she seemed content in her ways, and sense he had no idea where to go, he simply followed, satisfied with his surroundings. and his companions. he muttered a quick incantation, he enabled himself to always have a visual of Simon in his left eye, it was now pure black because of the incantation, but he didnt trust anyone, especially one who choose to falter in his decision to help or kill. Ferohers Never questioned his decision to kill, he simply prolonged it. He followed her and her mongoose down the coridoors. with simon staying only a few steps behind. "Neglasheth has fallen! Neglesheth has fallen" Farohers heard the words in his mind as in called out from far away. what did it mean he wondered. Silence between them was nice, although he was healed his head still hurt a bit and it was nice to have only the steady rhythm of there feet. he kept walking and whispered under his breath the words he'd heard..."Neglesheth has Fallen"....

[Laurana]

She freezes in her step upon reaching a forked, blackened hall, glancing around before again walking down a corridor. In the end she chooses the right side, relying on what she assumes to be the smell of fresher, less stale air coming from that way. In due time she wonders when she'll manage to explain that her healing was much more of a doctoring mixed with her odd habit to sing in other languages, but at the moment the paranoia in her mind tells her that she's worth more to the group with them thinking she's a magic healer.
"Bloody hallways. Bloody dust. I need a grooming," the mongoose chitters to her as it pads along at her ankles. She smiles at it.
Soon her thoughts wander, and her hidden face falls to a somewhat pensive, unhappy expression that often comes when her thoughts of her less-than-fortuitious situations and past experiences return to her mind's surface. Just barely noticable in the darkness of the way, she seems to be fidgeting with her gloves, more out of impulse than necessity. In hopes of metaphorically lightening their walk that seems all too bleak to her, she starts to hum a soft, haunting tune she's learned over the past year and a half or so by heart. "..."

[ferohers]

Aura chose the right passage way, and although Ferohers didnt care where they went, he wasnt accustomed to following, or being in a group, so often thoughts of murdering or abandoning his comrades crossed his mind, but he brushed them away. Aura had started humming a soft tune. and this to seemed to ease his heads pain. but something about simon still kept him uneasy, he saw a light up ahead, like a crack in a door. Slowely he watched as aura went to it she opened it. There was a flash of light and then farohers's focus started to come back to him, he was outside, he smelled the fresh sea air, and felt the cool breeze dance accross his face, his hair whipped in it he felt wonderful. and slowely he looked upward, it was dark and cloudy outside, the sun was blotted out, and rain seemed likely. Rain would be nice, he thought to him self. He looked around to his companions, they were all looking around, enjoying the breeze coming off the ocean, when an arrow came hurtling out of no where, and struck ferohers in the shoulder. His eyes suddenly turned black with green slits like that of a serpent. He calmly looked to where the arrow had come from and there was a boy, no more than ten, holding a bow, a look of fear and anger on his face. " Get back" The boy yelled. Farohers pulled the arrow from his shoulder, no sooner had he done this than another came whipping at him, this time he was ready "alimus hexitus" he whispered, and the arrow shattered into a thousand pieces. the boy just stood there, and went to notch another arrow, but before he could. Ferohers threw his sword at the boy. The sword hit the boy in the chest,it made a crunching sound as it went through his rib cage, impaling him on a near by tree. Ferohers walked over to him, completely unaware of the other two watrching him. He felt a tingling in his mouth. he felt his eyes turn into slits, his vision was suddenly sharp as a hawks, his heart beat slowed. his hearing had become suddenly so acute that he heard the boys pulse slow and bein to fade, he felt his vampric fangs descend, He walked up to the boys impaled body, he grabbed the boys head, and jerked it to the left, breaking his neck, and severing his spinal cord. He leaned the boys head to the right, and let it hang limp there, he then lowered his mouth to the boys neck. he felt his fangs puncture the arterie, he felt the blood gush into his mouth, it was delicious he drank until he could drink no more, he then lifted his head, and wiped off the boys blood from his lips. He grabbed the arrows from the boy, and his bow, and threw them to Aura and Simon. neither of then caught the objects. he heard them crash to the ground, He pulled the sword from the boys lifeless body then turned around, his face still in its vampric form. he saw the other two now, it was hard to tell what they were thinking, but he quickly muttered an incantation, and his face reverted to its normal state. he waited to see what they'd do, sword at the ready.......

[Laurana]

She watches with an emotionless face as the gorey acts are committed, knowing quite well she can do nothing and would be killed herself if she tried.
"Colors are soon revealed when put into the light," she says simply.
Her mongoose is silent as it crouches down, hair on end. It can tell danger when it sees it, and right now Ferohers is driving its senses that signify a threat haywire.
Not knowing or paying any mind to what Simon could be doing right now, she slowly walks forwards to the tree and mangled body of the boy. The tattered cloak's hem whips about her ankles. Her feet, in the light, turn out to be covered with a pair of slim, black boots going up to the middle of her lower legs, silent as she walks.
Oddly enough, she seems to pay no heed to Ferohers and the threat he could pose to her life. She has an air to her that can only be described as "Death's Grace" as she stops just in front of the crumpled body of the child. It seems not so impossible now that she could have been switched with a doppleganger, correct? Now, all the light she seemed to hold inside has been mixed up into Death. Such a blend is not meant for mortals to feel unless they are dead or dying, let alone hold inside their bodies in fine health!
She lowers her black-gloved hands, gently cradling the boy's head as she turns his head; his empty, mossy eyes turned to look at the face that remains hidden by her hood.
In a soft, quiet voice she starts to talk to what seems to be the dead body. Despite the others probably in the right range to have heard her, her words are simply incomprehendible whispers. Like a face, just beyond a veil. One that you just can't make out, or place.
Left standing near Simon, the mongoose looks around, able to smell the blood and possible danger that now floods the air. It fears for its master, but remains planted where it is. Watching, waiting.

[Grim Jestor]

Slowly, cautiously, Simon of Northlands followed the others out into the cold grayness, feeling the sea-mist upon his face and sighing in memory of his forgotten homeland. His reverie did not last, for no sooner was the whole party exposed than they were under attack from some farmer's son or beggar boy, who actually managed to hit one of them before the vampire Ferohers ripped off the unfortunate's head and drank his fill. Simon nodded in slowly in mute approval of his almost-enemy, knowing that such a one could only be valuable in their quest to escape, while at the same time wondering how and why Ferohers had ever allowed himself to be captured in the first place. Is it possible that he is only half vampire, or does he have reasons of his own for walking among mortals? Leery though he may have been, Simon made a mental note that he could consider Ferohers an ally, if not eventually a friend...

Simon was startled out of his thoughts by the thump of the child's weapons hitting the ground near his feet. Without hesitating, Simon grabbed both the bow--solidly made but nothing special-- and the few arrows still in their rudimentary quiver. Looking around, he picked up a few more that had fallen out, leaving him with little more than a dozen before his new bow became useless. He carefully tucked his metal shard into a safe but convenient place in his clothing, and strapped the arrows to his back. Simon knew that he was a fair shot with a bow, but did not wish to rely solely upon it with so few shots...

"Let us continue, then, so that master Ferohers not risk any more time in the daylight than absolutely necessary. If there is a cave nearby, or a deep valley, we might spend the day building some sort of craft to take us across to the mainland..."

[Laurana]

After a minute or two she stands again, looking around. "Okay," she says.

[Grim Jestor]

The three companions walked on into the trees until they came upon a dark place, where the ancient trees high above had grown together to form some kind of grotto which would hide them if the sun came out again. All around them was old growth forest, with fallen branches aplenty for the construction of a seaworthy raft or even a small boat, if they had the time. Simon and Ferohers began to gather wood, looking for the sturdiest and most recently-fallen pieces they could find, for it would not do to have their raft fall apart while still too far out to swim for land. While they were gone, Laurana looked for what strong vines she could, pulling them down out of the treetops wherever they dropped low enough so she did not have to climb. For hours they worked, knowing that they might have only this one chance, and none of them wanting to be stuck on this island too barren of civilization--or adequate blood-- to suit any of them. By nightfall a makeshift yet sturdy raft had taken shape, and by midnight they were ready to go, needing only to carry it to the beach and set off. The other shore was close enough to see, had it been daytime, and they knew that with luck they could make the crossing before dawn.

The waves lapped sedately upon the beach as they prepared to shove off, crude oars stacked in the middle of their craft, and the sky was clear and full of stars, shining brightly with the new hope of escape from this dreadful place. They floated away, rowing two at a time, with one trying to steer, and the dark silhouette of Neglesheth slowly faded into the general darkness of the night...

[Laurana]

She yells, her cloak flapping, as she tries to direct the steering. She makes a rather comical Course Designer. "Which left!? Which left!? Left or the other left?!"

[Grim Jestor]

Simon yells back from his position as a rower, "Sailors call that direction port, just in case you were wondering! Just keep us headed in the direction of the other shore, if you still remember which way that was..."

In the wind, Simon is not sure if his words have reached there intended target or if they simply blew back into his own face. We'll know when we either hit land... or not...

[Laurana]

She yells back, "Okay!"

Looking up at the sky now and then, she does her best to direct the boat correctly. Every now and then she yells at her mongoose to not get too close to the sides of the sailing craft.

[ferohers]

He realized in mid drift that there water craft would be destroyed before they hit land, but it would no doubt be close enough that they could swim, he rowed tirelessly, and soon it began to rain, simon and aura yelled idle words to each other, but the wind kept them a secret to him, he cared not. He watched as the mongoose attempted to look over the edge, he muttered a small incantation, that put a barrier around the edge of the raft, to keep the mongoose from going over board, it was invisible and he didnt think anyone would notice that the waves didnt come onto the raft enless they were very high. He didnt know why, but he had an affinity for animals, ever since he had become partially vampric, he always wanted them to be safe. his weekness you could call it. when he saw them abused or mistreated, he often exploded with rage. but the mongoose seemed ok, so he paddled on. The rafts bindings had started to split. He sent a telepathic voice to his "friends" minds " If the raft falls apart, keep your paddle, and all of us must cling to one log, its our only chance of survival." He wasn't sure if they'd all got it, but he trusted that they had, he then muttered an incantation "sapius fyrus" he watched the others get effected by it, warmth suddenly exploded from with in him, he felt comfortable, like he was wrapped in a blanket near a fire. he saw simon pause his rowing for a moment. then he started again, he wasn't sure if they'd be appreciative or angry that he'd cast a spell on them while they were looking away. but he waited and rowed, knowing all along that the raft would be destroyed. he looked to the north, and saw lightning streak accross the sky in the distance. he knew a storm was coming. but he didnt care, he wouldnt drowned if the were cast over board, besides they were more than half way accross the lake. so he continued rowing, and rowing.........

[Laurana]

While keeping a watchful eye over her mongoose, she continues to steer as best as possible, almost heedless to the spell and link. As one of her own weaknesses, plans are things she doesn't like: unpredictability keeps her life joyous, after all! 'Prepare for what you might and do not think of future actions' is what she grew up learning. Pity, isn't it. She doesn't regret it.

[Grim Jestor]

The ancient prison of Neglesheth was originally built on dry land, long ago before the memory of mortal man, but legends whisper that a great flood turned it into an island in the middle of a great lake, all the better for security says the average law-abiding citizen... but the same legends speak of the wish that this great flood had properly finished the job and washed that evil place away, that it could no longer be a blight upon the face of the earth... Prone to storms and full of unpredictable currents, the dark waters of Lake Neglesheth, as it is called by the surrounding fisher-folk who fear to sail there, can capsize and disorient many an unwary traveler or unfortunate escapee. The storm which now comes upon the tiny and quickly-built raft is one of unusual violence, as if the gods themselves would wipe take every living inhabitant of that place down into the land of the dead... The raft falls to pieces from the moment the storm really strikes, battered by improbably high and aggressive waves, and pulled apart with vicious thoroughness, even manic glee.

Following Ferohers' whispered mental commands, each one tries to grab a piece of wood, struggling to stay afloat, to keep breathing amid the insanity... the magical warmth fades as soon as Ferohers is swept into the water, but he and Laurana both manage to grab fair-sized logs, while the lucky mongoose tangles itself in Laurana's hair... although by accident or design no one can say.

They are thrown helplessly to and fro, somehow landing on the opposite shore after what seems like many hours of brutal punishment by waves and wind-driven debris. It is only after being washed ashore, soaked but safe, exactly where they intended to land that they notice Simon is missing... People are lost in storms all the time, though, and Laurana and Ferohers do not let the loss of such an odd one bother them too much. It is too wet to build a fire, so the two humans and the mongoose huddle under a convenient overhang of earth, sheltered from the cold wind, until the storm finishes. Dawn will be coming soon, and after this storm the sun will be rising. Ferohers will need to find proper shelter, and with no sign of Simon the others assume that he is dead...

[Laurana]

As Laurana sits huddled with Ferohers, she feels odd trickles of fear well up inside her. Fear for Simon. Soon though, she realizes she cannot dwell on it, and forces him from her mind.
Later through the night --or was it day? She could not tell, thanks to the storm earlier--, the storm eventually dies down. Not before it manages to give the companions a couple starts as lightning can be heard all too close, though.
Slowly, as if fearing the storm will come back, she stands up. Ferohers quickly follows suit. She can tell he still doesn't fully trust her. Oh well.
"We need to get you a decent shelter," she says coolly, eyeing the first rays of sunlight peaking in the distance.
He just nods slightly. There's not real time to argue, is there?
"We'll... need to rush," she says, just as coolly as before. She prepares her mind for what might become a competitive race between the two.
Again, he nods. "Indeed."

[Grim Jestor]

Nearly drowned, a soaked but still (barely) alive body washes up on an unknown shore, startled out of the reverie of death by the sand which tries to fill its mouth. Coughing violently, Simon of Northlands tries to find his bearings, but fails miserably. All he can see is the grayness of the water, mixed with the grayness of the storm's end, and the grayness of a blighted landscape. It all blurs together in his mind, but for some reason it all seems somehow different from the place he was before, although so near to death he has no memory of it, whatever it was...

For some reason, Simon's memory insists that he once traveled with others like him, others in a place in which they did not wish to be, but he cannot summon images or memory of conversation, and finally gives up on the fickle favor of elusive memory. Shivering violently from his near-death, he moves inland, luckily stumbling upon a peasant's hut where they take him in with no questions out of sheer mercy on his pathetic condition. Collapsing upon the floor in front of a low fire, he falls into the oblivion of dreams...

[ferohers]

Ferohers agreed, although reluctant, seeing as the sun had little effect on him, it merely weakened him. But they were safe and aura needed her rest, as did he. He thought of Simon, he knew he was alive. He had sensed something about Simon. A spirit of stubbornness he wouldn’t allow himself to die. Ferohers followed them to a small stone church outside of the town called Melde. As he neared the church, he sensed a spirit of darkness over it. The church was a place of evil, he felt that somehow it was related to the reason the prison was abandoned. The words he had heard called out repeated them selves in his mind, the hair stood up on the back of his neck as he heard them “Neglesheth has Fallen” he slowly entered the church behind Aura. He had begun to trust her, but not to much, for even the calmest of creatures can turn violent when the time is right.

[Laurana]

As they enter the church, a slow smile spreads across her lips. The only light inside comes from a few faint rays of sunlight that illuminate the stained-glass windows. The mostly-empty church pews remain serene, yet still... darkened. An odd silence lays along the Fellowship Hall as she walks slowly up the center isle. "Hm..."

[Grim Jestor]

Simon leaves the kind peasant's hut well-rested, well-fed, and clothed in the rough garb of the local farmers and woodsmen... a nondescript gray-green shirt, rough woven, and slightly baggy pants to match. A seeming rarity for one who must toil in the fields for a living, this man is rather plump, even on the fat side. Not stopping for a second to wonder why he was not only taken in and fed but also given clothing and a pack of supplies, Simon simply thanks the man and walks off into the early evening, lacking only some kind of weapon to defend against bandits or wild animals. Still completely without memory of who he is or how he came to be in this place, Simon assumed that he was simply a traveler, possibly even a passenger on a boat as the peasant claims he must have been, who had fallen overboard and nearly died. Whistling tunelessly, Simon does not hurry, for not surprisingly he knows of no place that he needs to be any time soon...

As night falls, he shelteres inside of a great hollow tree, building no fire, for after the storm of the previous day the weather had taken a surprisingly swift turn for the warmer... Simon is still asleep when the soldiers come for him. Apparently, someone had told them exactly where to find him, and although he has no idea who he is or what they could possibly want him for... their captain is more than happy to tell him.

"Simon of Northlands, you are hereby under arrest by order of Fyodor, Baron of Tchaikov, for escape and mass murder. You may die now, or later... your choice. Although I must inform you, most choose to die quickly upon my blade rather than starving slowly in my lord's dungeons..."

Simon, his name finally revealed to him, would rather let another man have it, for as he looks down at his hands he wonders if they are capable of mass murder, but supposes that he must have done these things of which he is now accused. The ancient prison of Neglesheth is around here somewhere, it seems to him that he remembers, and it is certainly possible that he could have murdered his way out of that place... Simon has heard the same stories as everyone else about that evil prison, after all... and some memories cannot be erased by something as simple as near-death by drowning. Confused, and with no particular desire to die at this moment, Simon does not reply, but rather allows the soldiers to bind his hands and lead him away...

[ferohers]

Ferohers knelt before the gothic cross. He crossed his arms in front of his chest as was the tradition. He finally stood, “Aura, we should go find Simon.” He whispered. As he rose he saw a figure standing in the back of the church, hooded in black and red robes. He approached the figure, and spoke to him “give me your robes, and I will spare your life. Refuse and I will torture your soul in the fires of hell.” “Never” whispered the cloaked figure. “So be it” hissed Ferohers. He drew his sword and drove it through the figures head, it came out the back, but the figure did nothing, he just stood there. Ferohers grabbed the hood and threw it off. A skull stood staring back at him, smiling hysterically. “I have no soul” said the skull mocking ly. “phamitus phyre” whispered Ferohers, and the skeleton burst into flame, screaming in pain as he was consumed by the never ceasing phyre. Ferohers grabbed the figures cloak and put it on, pulling the hood up, he slung his belt across his back and put his sword in it, making a makeshift sheath. “ Quickly, let us go Aura!”

[Grim Jestor]

He who was once called Simon of Northlands is roughly marched along the crude road, away from the great lake and away from those he once called friends... and if not friends, then at least fellow travelers. Surrounded on all sides by soldiers, Simon still cannot remember who or what he used to be, but must have been quite dangerous if it takes so many to arrest him, unarmed and tired. If his hand has ever held a weapon, he cannot remember, and if he had one before nearly drowning he has lost it. Simon flexes both hands, trying to remember which might have held a club or blade, dagger or ax... but the results are inconclusive, both seeming likely but neither more than the other. He wonders as he is pushed and pulled along, forced to match his captors' pace, if he was a magic-user, and if he has any spells... but wiggling his fingers causes nothing to happen, and no arcane words come to his mind. Simon would protest that he is only a normal person, of no danger to anyone, but for some reason he knows that these soldiers have been sent to fetch him, and fetch him is exactly what they will do, with an unfair fight to the death being his only other option. So Simon jogs along in silence, and gradually a great and dark fortress comes into view through a sparse growth of young trees. The sky is gray and overcast behind the fortress, lending it an air of gloom and sadness, and Simon thinks, I've seen this place before, or places like it...

With no ceremony, Simon is dragged inside and shoved into a stone and iron cell, dark and smelling of death.

Even as he is taken inside, the criers go throughout the region, with their message of success and safety. "Infamous killer Simon of Northlands captured! Killed hundreds, escaped from Neglesheth, now to answer for his crimes! The people of Tchaikov are safe once more! Infamous killer Simon of Northlands captured! Killed hundreds..."

Simon can hear the cries fade away, along with all other sound, except for the sudden clang of iron on iron, and then there is nothing. The darkness is everything, and Simon lets it take him.

[Laurana]

Aura raises her hand, and snaps her fingers at the skeletal figure. It vanishes slowly, flames and all, into a wisp of smoke that floats away with a small breeze.

"Hm," is her only response to Ferohers. She can't help but think that they wouldn't have needed to hurry so much if he hadn't of gone and done that.

Nevertheless, Aura strides to the entrance doors quickly, not wanting to waste time. She does not bother asking why or how Ferohers thinks Simon is alive when earlier he had assumed him dead.

"We need to evaluate where he is."

[Grim Jestor]

Outside a small stone church in the town of Melde, a man walks quickly, spreading news, "...escaped from Neglesheth, now to answer for his crimes! The people of Tchaikov are safe once more! Infamous killer Simon of Northlands captured! Killed hundreds..." The voice fades into the distance, as the man moves on. He does not even glance at the small church, fearing the legends of its evil past, fearing the stories he has heard all of his life that it is haunted with foul spirits and great dangers. Only a fool would venture inside, at peril of his life, but such things are not the concern of a town crier. It is only his job to spread the news, to keep the people of Tchaikov informed, and he is good at his job...

[Laurana]

Aura's eyebrow twitches a bit under her hood as her suggestion is answered, almost as if by fate.

"Nevermind. Let's go to this 'Tchaikov' place, eh?"

An hour after trying to learn the directions to where this mysterious Tchaikov land lies, the twosome --threesome if you count the mongoose-- start off down the cobblestone trail in search of their lost companion. Time is of the essence.

[Grim Jestor]

Laughing to himself, the aged woodcutter watches the two strange humans and their pet walk off down the trail. Obviously, they are strangers here, he thinks to himself. I could have told them that they were already in Tchaikov, but that would have spoiled the fun of sending them on a day's journey out into the wilderness and back... Just like any good citizen, though a poor one, the woodcutter waits until after the two have disappeared around a bend in the soon-to-disappear village street, and runs faster than he should be able to toward the High Sheriff's office, to report that the infamous criminal must have had some friends...

That very night, a posse of local men assembles in the Dragon's Claw, the grandly-named local inn, to hunt for the fugitives with whatever weapons they have on hand. The High Sheriff sends two experienced trackers, along with their half-wolf hunting dogs, and by midnight they are following quickly down the obvious trail left by Ferohers and Laurana...

[Laurana]

Aura and Ferohers find themselves walking down a cobblestone road the next day, and by this time, Ferohers has grown rather suspicious about the location of this 'mysterious Tchaikov place'. However, Aura doesn't quite like the idea of going and turning back when they've gone so far.

"Aw, come on," she says with a half-whiny voice. "We're getting there really fast, I know it! We'll get there so fast, you won't even know it!"

The two travelers and the mongoose continue on, and eventually stumble upon a small woods. In the distance, they can just barely see the top towers of what looks like a large, ceremonial building of some sorts. Perhaps a castle... or courthouse.

"This looks about right, right!" Aura's optimism is wasted on Ferohers, for he has no time for jokes. The woods ahead, small as they seem, send his instincts crazy with thoughts of easy ambush in such a place.

"Come on, Ferry," Aura says. "We can't lose any more time!"

[Grim Jestor]

A squad of thirteen Tchaikovian guardsmen lies in wait, strategically placed in a small grove of trees almost directly beside the path upon which their quarry should be walking very soon. The spy has always given good information in the past, always earning the right to stay well-fed even in times of famine, and this time is no different. The castle ahead of them, not even inhabited any more, still looks like a very good destination, and the guard captain wonders to himself what kind of fool would fall for such a trap, following directions to such an obvious ruin. Still, though, it is not so obvious until one draws nearer, and to a true stranger the words of what looks like an honest old peasant can be taken at face value... but nothing can be taken for granted in the barony of Tchaikov. Nothing except for judgment and death, that is.

The local rabble and the trackers, along with their dogs, have long since been sent back, especially since it was obvious that no extra bodies would be needed. The same guard captain who arrested Simon earlier, and even personally tossed him in his starvation cell, is here in the trees with twelve fresh guards, all fully trained in combat with plenty of weapons and well-armored. Each guard is carrying a long spear, razor sharp, as well as a short sword and a crossbow. Against two apparently unarmed fugitives, and according to their source, a tiny animal, most of them believe that they will not even need to draw their weapons. The mood amid the trees is light hearted and jovial. Each is certain that he will be back with his family, or back in the local tavern with his favorite barmaid, before the moon rises.

A sound can be heard upon the trail, now all hard-packed dirt, but overgrown with weeds and even tiny saplings. Once a well-traveled trade route to a prosperous castle town, none walk here now except for the ghosts of the conquered, as well as two foolish travelers who asked the wrong "peasant" for directions...

[Laurana]

A small mongoose patters along the trail at the feet of a cloaked woman. There's a man standing beside her, his eyes glinting with fierce zeal.
The smallest creature sneezes. "I smell Simon," it barks at the woman.

Aura walks along silently, saying after a while to Ferohers, "He can be smelled clearly here... I think we're getting closer."
All three of them are so far unaware that the only reason the mongoose smells Simon is because the captain who had commandeered the man's freedom lies in wait with his guards.
Ferohers glances at her. He isn't sure how far he can trust this woman... but in any case, it seems like everything's too easy in this 'rescue mission.'

Aura's hidden eyes are drawn to the top of the far-off building... She doesn't see any sort of sign declaring it a courthouse or otherwise... Not even a pair of scales...

[ferohers]

"fools, they're walking right into it, they won't even know what hit 'em" chuckled the guard. "yea, this ought to be good" said a deep grueling voice from behind them, they turned around, and there stood Ferohers, his blade drawn, fangs bared, a look of utter disgust on his face.


"Aaaarrrghhhh" , the scream echoed through the forest. followed by much clashing of metal and fading screams of terror.


Ferohers emerged from behind the hill, blood ran from his mouth, down the front of his robes. He smiled and laughed, something rare for him, but he couldn't help think that this was Pretentious at best.

"The town is that way" he smiled as he spoke it, "we were in it the whole time".

they stoppped for a moment by the river, ferohers washed off his sword, and took off his robes, he changed into the clothes of the guards, and advised aura to do the same. he hid the knives of the soldiers, variously about his uniform, then put his sword across his back.

Two guards and a mongoose began a short walk back to town, all seeming, out of place. in this otherwise deserted path.

[Laurana]

Aura walks alongside Ferohers and her mongoose, after a long debate being convinced into wearing the guard clothes. However: she was granted the usage of a helm and gloves, so her face and skin can remain hidden.
The walk is quiet, thoughts wandering among the small party's members.

[Grim Jestor]

"...Down in the darkness, where the dead men walk... Down in the darkness, where the dead men walk... Down in the darkness..." The one called Simon has not spoken any other words for what seems like days, ever since they started starving him, although every now and then he has been able to take some small nourishment from a careless scurrying rodent, drinking its blood and cracking its bones in his jaws in a losing battle to stay alive. Water is not a problem, for here in the deepest dungeon a constant rivulet of stagnant water runs down the wall, and although the taste makes him want to vomit Simon drinks whenever he thirsts, knowing that to live diseased is better than death. This knowledge, and the small amounts of food he has found, help him not at all when insanity comes knocking on his mind.

The darkness is everything, and Simon wonders how long it will take for him to stop drinking, to stop catching rats, to simply lie there chanting until his lips lock together for want of moisture even as his belly shrivels up for want of food. This is his last thought before he fades into repeated whispers, listening to himself speak as if at the feet of some great sage who teaches the secrets of the ages...

"Down in the darkness, where the dead men walk..."