El Festival De Muerte

[Storm Veritas]

Gibberish. It all sounded like gibberish to him, the words from the lovely girl. He was upset, surprised, and confused. He still barely even knew her name and he was smitten, quite taken by the lovely girl and her demure look. Now, moments later, all was back up for grabs, all sanity back in question. Was there anything about her, about this place that was not extraordinary? When she spouted out something that was clearly a foreign language, he stepped back in reflexory fear. What the hell was going on?

The Fallien people appeared to come from nowhere, many running and screaming, many scrambling, many appearing now brandishing weapons. The steady drum and violin concerto of only moments ago was completely scrubbed from their memories, their faces that of sheer terror. Something was here, some danger that he didn’t understand. The commands of the gorgeous woman came to a perplexed Storm Veritas, who stopped to soak it in.

Hot chick goes crazy, starts yelling in tongues, and I’m supposed to do what she says? F*ck no… No, no, no, no, no…

…What is it? Do they see something? Hear something? What the hell is this?

He saw the people around waiting, looking timid and fearfully about them. Men wrapping hands around their wives, mothers protecting their children. From what, he did not know, but these were not capable people. This powerful, incredible woman actually seemed composed, so he gave her orders a second thought. This didn’t seem like the first experience with this bizarre event. Her words sounded even stranger.

Calerians? What are they? Alerians? Like from Alerar? I thought this was f*cking FALLIEN. What’s going on?

The people to help were easy to find. Bountifully dispersed. One girl cried as she looked up, her hands wrapped around her in a pitiful self-hug. Her face was red, and eyes puffed. Fearful wide eyes struggled through in the background. This one was outright tormented. He moved fast for her, and swooped her up. He spoke quickly, but with a gentle tact.

“It’s ok, honey. Where do you live? Where’s home?”

She looked at him, scared and confused, unsure of whom to trust. A tiny index finger extended towards a small hut some thirty yards away. He was moving fast, carrying her in his arms. She was probably eight, but he still bundled her like a child.

“Watch out!” she began, her voice quivering with tears.

“Watch out for what, honey? For what?”

“The bad people are here. The ghost people.”

He dropped her down at his feet by the sill of the house, an older woman exasperated as she grabbed at the child. There were no thanks for Storm for saving the child, not that they would be needed. He had no clue what he was saving anyone from.

Running back, he made way towards the fire again. Armed warriors appeared to be fighting an invisible enemy. Some men even fell, as though struck down by lightning. It was insanity, like a massive shadow box to the death. In the fracas, the citizens had begun to clear. With ease, Veritas spotted his lovely female companion again, the warrior who fought with avarice. He was moving again towards her.

[Iriah Caitrak]

It was insanity as it’s finest moment and something all the Calerian’s fighting in the dust and sand had been training for their whole lives and never expecting to happen. An attack on the Calerian tribe and not only that but on during the festival of the dead. In all the years, in all the stories, this had never happened before and Ira could not afford the time to be stunned into thinking that it had happened to her of all people on her night in the festival. It didn’t matter anyway, what mattered were the souls she and all the other Calerians were fighting and the inevitable release of all of them from their torment and into Sanctuary, their rightful place. What mattered were the lives that were going to be lost tonight, because they couldn’t protect everyone and the consequences that might reverberate down the lines of fate too complex for her to even grasp let alone understand.

Blocking a forward attack from one of the creatures, a snarling burnt mask of flesh glared back at her with empty eye sockets. Using brute force, Ira shoved the Fallen away from her and came in with her other half swallow, the attack precise, the metal blade at the end of the short pole arm slicing through the black hole where this souls heart and humanity used to lay. In a flash of light it disappeared leaving a red and black butterfly in its stead, which soon disappeared as well on its journey to Sanctuary.

Through the bodies and the war cries, Ira saw one thing she wished she hadn’t. Storm was moving through the mass of fighters and coming towards her. Her mind registered it but refused to accept it. Was he crazy? Was he suicidal? Or did he just not understand exactly what was going on around him!? Breaking from the battle, Ira rushed towards him, dropping one of her half swallows, which disappeared a few seconds after it left her hand. In its stead she formed a small throwing knife, which she threw in Storm’s direction. But not at him, no, at the Fallen that was coming at him from the left and behind. The blade disappeared into the darkness of the Fallen’s chest, releasing the creature.

“Are you mad!?” Ira screamed at him.

He must have been, because no one sane would jump into a battle that they could really only see one side of. Ira knew he couldn’t see the dead; it was evident in his confused face.

“I don’t have time to explain, I’ll tell you what’s going on after the battle is over. Just get away from here before you get hurt!”

Her hands were on his chest, pushing him as if the words weren’t enough. The Calerian warrior did not want him in harms way. This was a battle he could not help with; in fact, he’d only get in the way. Proving the point made within her mind, Ira saw the form of a Fallen sneaking up behind Storm. With a muttered curse, she shoved him hard out of the way of the creature’s strike and attempted to block the blade protruding from its arm with her half swallow. The only thing she succeeded in doing was throwing off its aim. Instead of piercing into the centre of her stomach the blade slid cleanly into the flesh of her side.

In the physical plane Ira had no armour to protect her against the Fallen and the shock and fact that the blade hadn’t been blocked by her enchanted armour took a second to sink into her head. By that time, the Fallen had already withdrawn the blade from her stomach, the sickening sound of blood suction filled her ears as the pain slowly registered itself, numbed by adrenaline.

Stumbling, Ira dropped one of her half swallows and placed her hand over the wound. It was clean but deep and bleeding rather profusely. Still, she couldn’t worry about it right now, there were more Fallen approaching her and Storm. She ahd to get them out of this situation, she needed to take care of them and get him someplace safe, someplace away from this.

(While the Fallen has it's blade in Ira, Storm should be able to see the creature and realize what is actually going on. In your post, you can do whatever as long as you stay close to Ira, or relatively close. I'll be corrupting her in my next post.)

[Storm Veritas]

The madness continued, wide eyes and wild glares joining him. There was nothing here, nothing he had seen before in all his days. It was lunacy. An irate and strangely focused Ira pushed him aside, thrusting him as she commanded him to leave. He didn’t resist, but rather let her push him. As she did so, things became so much more clear.

So much more horrible.

The normally despicable Veritas stooped at once to catch the newly wounded woman, but as the enemy flashed into vision he was terribly distracted. As the blade punctured her, the ghostly apparition came into view for the thusfar blissfully ignorant mage. It was like them, a bit small in stature yet powerful. At this point the comparisons died, as it was foul and blackish green with a dim haze about it. The blade was not a blade itself, but rather an extension of a bony fist, a long exoskeletal growth. A mangled face looked like sewn leather, its terrible red eyes glaring down at Storm.

Holy f*cking shit.

They were supernatural, although he didn’t understand them. Otherworldly, unreal, yet visceral as this one stared at the defiant Veritas. He wasn’t brave so much as arrogant, the veteran traveler carrying himself as something of a god. Storm certainly wasn’t human; whatever hybrid creature he had developed into over the years would fear no man.

Nor any… whatever this thing is… well, maybe SHOULDN’T fear, anyway…

A sneer from twisted fangs that all seemed to pull towards the middle of the wretched face. The left hand swung about wildly, slow and lethargic as the right knuckle-sword lay in the fast-fading woman. A simple duck, and Storm flashed back at the beast, firing from his hands an unprecedented blast of white-hot electric energy. It was summoned almost instantly, sizzling and crackling right towards the beast. In a flash, the terrible specter winced, pulling back and disappearing from sight entirely.

Storm would have appreciated watching it die. To see it fade from existence, because it could still be here, still be alive, and still have plenty of friends.

What happened? Did I scare it?

Near him, Ira was looking hapless. As the terrible thing had been knocked back by the blast, the bone growth had left her, and her color was looking terrible, even evident in the clarity of firelight. Squatting, Storm scooped her, surprised by how delicate and light and frail she felt.

“Easy, sugar. I’m gonna take care of you. I’m gonna bring you somewhere safe. Relax, baby.”

His hands pressed around the outside of the wound, a path of electricity traveling through outstretched fingertips towards his opposite hand across the torn flesh. She winced, already in pain, and the smell of the burnt flesh was awful in his lungs. Perhaps it was savage, but the primitive cauterization would keep her from bleeding out.

Although he spoke otherwise, it was roughly the only thing he could do. No longer could he see the beasts, and he had no idea if he could harm them.

[Iriah Caitrak]

Somewhere safe. The same thing she’d wanted to do for him only seconds ago, bring him somewhere safe. And now she found herself being carried by this man, a man who could shoot lightning from his fingertips, a man who was so much more than he presented himself to be.

For once, Ira really didn’t know what to say or do. She was wounded and her stubborn mind wouldn’t let her realize just how bad it was. She’d been through worse she’d survived worse. Heck, she’d trekked for two days through the desert of Fallien beaten, bloody, with two broken ribs and completely corrupted. This was nothing, this was a flesh wound, this she would survive. But this was what was taking her out of the fight. A simple stab to the side, a tearing of flesh and that was it, once the blood started to flow she was gone and there was nothing she could do. She felt weak, she felt light headed…she felt like she should stand on her own two feet and get back there and help her people, but she knew she’d just get in the way.

Her eyes watched the Fallen who’d stabbed her disappear. She didn’t know how it was possible, but somehow Storm’s magic had been enough to release the soul from its torment. The moment the butterfly disappeared a sharp pain rang throughout her chest, but was gone before she could even think about it.

Nothing, just a nuisance.

“Away…get away from the bonfire. The Calerian’s will keep the battle contained there as much as they can. Get towards the tents.”

She was retreating form battle and there was nothing she could do about it. The Calerian warrior knew she’d be no good to anyone in the state she was in right now. Funny how one can somehow make it when their bones were broken yet the minute they started to lose blood it seemed like the end was near.

Luckily Storm quickly obeyed her, holding her gently against his chest where oddly enough she felt safe, he led the two of them out of the chaos of war and battle. It seemed like some of the Fallen had different ideas though. Two of them were beginning to gain on them following them out of battle and Ira knew Storm could not see their approach. He probably didn’t even know he’d hit the creature attacking her, but the look on his face. She couldn’t explain it, she’d seen that look before when others had first laid eyes on Fallen but how could he have seen them?

It was a question worth pondering later; right now she had two Fallen gaining on her that she had to worry about. Forming two throwing knifes in her hand, Ira took a deep breath then threw one right after the other. Injured or not her throwing arm was still good at the knives disappeared into the black hole in each Fallen’s chest, releasing both of them.

Right then, as their regrets and evils committed while Fallen were taken into Ira one of the crystals resting around her neck turned from the calm blue it was supposed to be to a menacing red.

She was corrupted.

Gasping, Ira grasped the crystal in her hand. Her fingers clutching the cool, smooth surface as if it alone could take the corruption away, could take the pain that was racking her body away. It radiating out from her heart to everywhere else in her body as if it travelled in her blood. She’d felt it before, she’d been through it before but this one was worse. She didn’t know why, the pain bit into her body and soul like nothing she’d ever felt before and it was as if she were being ripped apart.

“Ira, Ira baby, what’s wrong?”

She could hear him but he sounded so far away yet he was right there in front of her eyes. Eyes that were no longer the beautiful swirling silver they should be. Now the black of the pupil was beginning to spread, clouding the silver over.

Strong arms brought her down to solid ground.

“Ira, tell me what’s wrong?”

Her hand gripped his forearm. Fingers biting into taunt muscle, her back arching and a muffled screamed escaped through gritted teeth as the pain increased. She wasn’t going to make it, not this time.

“I’m corrupted.” The words were forced and painful even to get out, “When a Calerian becomes corrupted they turn into mindless killers.”

The pain increased, she bit down on the sides of her cheeks and tasted iron in her mouth. Her hand moved from the death grip on his forearm to his hand, a dagger forming in his palm.

“You’ll have to kill me, I don’t want to end up like that!”

The silver in her eyes was completely gone now; only the black remained, pleading with him to do it.

[Storm Veritas]

He had carried her far, and fatigued away from the flames. It was madness, chaos, but yet the further he went from the flames, the duller the ache of that otherworldly tug. It was incredible, and he considered at once that approaching those fires was the most foolish thing he had ever done. It had cost this lovely girl everything, or so it seemed.

The dying Ira lay in his arms, beautiful even as her life faded. Everything outside the couple grew quiet, went limp, seemed peripheral although potentially fatal. There was simply Storm and his lovely girl, the one he had recently met and been stricken by. The one he could not harm, the one he could not touch.

“No, easy girl. Don’t talk crazy like that, baby. Just need some rest, I think…”

Her body jilted and stopped, her dying gaze unto him becoming glassy and cold as her breathing stopped. How had this happened? The wound had not been anywhere near this terrible, unless there is some awful poison in the beasts. Just for a moment, he could not leave her. He squeezed her, pressing her face to his chest and holding her taut. She was innocent, and he had done it.

Kill them. Kill them all.

The beasts that cost the girl her life would pay. It was the only way for Storm to even the score. Gently laying the damsel down, he scooted back a bit. A bit woozy, he struggled to stand up.

What the… He was dizzied fast, barely able to make his bearings. What? His breathing was off tempo, the breaths hard to come by, his limbs and body barely responsive to his commands to move. Oh, shit!

And just like that, he collapsed, all at once passing out and falling aside his lovely new dead companion Ira.

~*~

….Ungh…

When he awoke, things were quiet. He would have to have slept long; he would have to have been out for a good spell of time. The quiet that met him was disheartening, even confusing. The earth beneath him was hard, not the same soft soil of Fallien, but this did not register as quickly as the visual shock.

What in the name of….

The brightness was blinding, the light bouncing off stone and settling into hot sands about him. It felt about right for Fallien, but the temperature was the lone element that was familiar. The skies were filled with thin, wispy clouds, the things of night which obscure the moon and shouldn’t move as fast as they appear to. About him, orange sand seemed to extend indefinitely, all about the small city on the outskirts of nowhere. A city which time had apparently forgotten, a city which seemed altogether impossible.

Stone structures, all large and ancient stood about him, seven or eight large squared buildings composed of incredibly large bricks and obscenely thick pillars. Deep, dark, and hollow, the contents of the buildings was indiscernible. About them, brickfaces faltered, statues leaned on end and in tatters, and lanterns were long-since extinguished. One particular marble archer stood poised with neither a bow nor a left arm before him to draw his harmless arrow from.

Veritas was thoughtless as he stood, unsure if he was in the afterlife or somewhere between here and the next world. The air and land was scentless, devoid of the stench of death nor the smooth aroma of flowers. It was a relief, of sorts, but also frightening. The only sound was the persistent kissing of wind against his face and the small crumbling sounds of these structures faltering at an interminably slow pace.

And then, upon the stone foundation where the next building lay, was the lifeless body of fair Ira. He was moving towards her, although he wasn’t sure why.

[Iriah Caitrak]

Consciousness was a slow thing to regain. As Ira did she mentally tallied herself. She didn’t hurt anywhere, she didn’t feel weird and there didn’t appear to be a wound in her side anymore. Just to be sure of this she slowly ran her hand across her bare stomach and felt nothing but smooth skin. Odd, she could have sworn she’d been stabbed by a Fallen; she was also pretty damn sure she’d been corrupted and was about to go crazy and kill a bunch of people. Yet here she was, lying on something rather hard and feeling perfectly fine. Not a bump or scratch on her and not a singe sign of corruption.

Rather confused, Ira slowly opened her eyes, in advertently blinded herself by how bright it was, especially with the sun reflecting off the sand.

Wait a minute…sun, sand…it was night, where did night go!?

Sitting up rather quickly and ignoring the sudden dizziness that overcame her, Ira looked around her surroundings. She was sitting on some kind of foundation wall of some ruined building that was definitely not part of her tribe. The sun was out and about and very cheerful looking and a gentle breeze was making the sand dance around. There was also a forest not too far from where she was sitting, all of the trees were dead though and it didn’t look like a single animal roamed within.

Where the Hell was she and what happened to the Calerians and all the Fallen they had been fighting?

What the Hell happened to the tribe?

Glancing behind her, Ira sighed in relief as she spotted Storm moving towards her. At least she wasn’t entire alone in this place, whatever it was. Jumping down from the crumbling foundation wall, Ira gave Storm a tentative smile as he approached her. She had no idea what to say to him or what was going on and she doubted he had much of a better idea.

-----------------------------

“How’s it coming along?”

Gereint turned from the fire that forever burned in his tent to look towards Liax, who had just come in. Though blinded years ago in a ritual, there were things one needed no physical eye to see and Gereint could see Uriahd perfectly and the sorrow and pain within her.

“Every Calerian who participated in the battle seems to have minimal injuries. However, we’ve got twelve major injuries, two dead and…two might not make it to tomorrow.” She said to him.

He nodded his head and slowly rose from his sitting position. He would need to attend the wounded now as best he could. The fighting was over, the Calerian’s had won but they had taken casualties and they had lost good people today. And there was one more whose fate was still undecided, one who lay in his tent now, beside the prone body of a stranger.

“Why…do they look like that? And why is she still alive, she’s been corrupted Gereint, we don’t know what she’ll wake up as.”

He nodded his head solemnly. It was true; she could wake up to be a monster and a plague on this tribe. There was no telling how many people she could kill before someone killed her. But he knew there was a chance she’d wake up without the corruption. Something was different in Ira from the other Calerians, he’d known it for a long time, he’d just never told her or anyone else. There was a chance she would come out of this stronger than before and changed, but hopefully in a good way. As for the stranger, he didn’t really know how or why this had happened to him. But perhaps the fates had decided he had a role to play somewhere in this mess.

“Ira was forced into her soul when she became corrupted and somehow the stranger was brought there too, that’s why they look like the dead. Their bodies have shut down to the minimum that can sustain life. And I will not kill her when there is a chance she will come out free from corruption.”

Gereint knew that Ira and Liax were good friends and he knew that it pained her even to mention the thought of killing Ira, but like all the other Calerians Liax thought Ira was going to wake up a monster. He knew there was a chance she wouldn’t, he knew that perhaps with the help of the stranger she’d make it through somehow.

“Come, Liax, let us tend to the wounded…”

He didn’t want to lose any more Calerians today.

-------------------------

Grabbing her necklace, Ira looked down at the two Irenian Crystals lying against her chest. One, which she was not bonded to, was the calm blue the crystal was supposed to be. The other was red, telling her she was still corrupted. Yet that made no sense, she felt no pain and she was not running around like a wild animal trying to kill everything in her sight. Though to be honest, the only thing in her sight she could kill was Storm, there didn’t appear to be anything else living around here.

That was when it dawned and her and everything started making perfect sense.

“Oh, fuck…” The one swear word she’d picked up during her time in Corone was now the only thing she had to express this situation.

She was in her soul. It was where a Calerian travelled to battle and eventually expel the corruption that they took in when fighting and releasing Fallen. One isn’t supposed to be able to travel here when corrupted but she’d done it the last time—though she had no memories of that—and it appeared she was doing it again. Only this time she’d brought along another person with her and she wasn’t entirely sure how that was possible. People weren’t supposed to be able to travel into other people’s soul. Perhaps because he’d been near her when it had happened, she didn’t know, she did know that he was going to have a hard time taking this.

“We’re in my soul…” Ira said to him. When he gave her a blank expression she continued the explanation, “A Calerian has the ability to travel to their soul. It’s how they fight off and eventually expel the corruption they take in when releasing Fallen, those nasty creatures we were battling that I somehow think you were able to see for a brief moment. Normally, one shouldn’t be able to travel to their soul corrupted; it’s unheard of, especially bringing company with them. My guess is that my soul dragged me in here trying to stave off the corruption and because you were so close to me you were accidentally pulled in as well.”

Oh, yeah… that sounded like a great explanation. Yep, she was sure he was going to believe her and not think she was crazy.

[Storm Veritas]

He had been building up a pretty good buzz, but there was no way that he was intoxicated enough to trip this stuff out.

Her soul? What the f*ck?

He stared at her as she spoke thinking, wheels spinning. The drinks he had could, in theory be hallucinatory. They may have created the gap in his consciousness that could tweak something, but not THIS. This was more, this was something greater, something stronger.

Could he really be existing in the soul of the beautiful Ira? Was it possible?

“No, no…” he began, shaking his head as he cradled temples between thumb and index. “How… what… what the hell is going on here? Dreams? So real, but…”

In this “dream state”, as he expected, there would be very little interaction with the lithe heroine before him. She spoke, but the words came softly and loosely. Something about the “Corruption” kicked, as it was one of her final fleeting words. How would she know? Did she? Was she real?

Seriously, this is some shit right here. She really trying to tell me that she has to fight corruption? I don’t see any hookers or gambling rings around here, sugar…

…No. I’ve got to just go with it. Got to run with it.

He moved his hand and offered a smile, one merely half genuine and barely one quarter sincere. This was preposterous. At the same time, it would be the only way, and it was HOT out here in the desert sun. No it isn’t, but it should be… He wanted to vacate these particular premises post-haste.

“Alright, Ira. Err… what?” Words failed him, a rare occurrence. How could any normal dialogue exist in such a case? Was this some parallel world, some odd dimension aside from his own? Was this a cruel joke?

“Say I believe you – purely hypothetical. What do WE do here? What can be done? Saddle up and box this ‘corruption’ you speak of? Maybe we just start a smoke signal to bring them in?”

A laugh, more nervous than sarcastic as he looked at his feet. He couldn’t look at the beautiful girl right now, at least not with sincerity.

After all, last he checked, she was dead. Which brought into question his own fate.

[Iriah Caitrak]

He didn’t believe her, not one word that she had spoken to him rung true in his mind. It was obvious. Not only in his speech—what little of it there was—but in his eyes and his smile. It reminded her of when he’d first approached her. His smile hadn’t been genuine then either, it hadn’t reached his eyes, some kind of façade, something to hide. And after seeing what his real smiles were like later on she’d always know the difference. Still, should she really be surprised at this? Any sane person would think she was nuts and that this was some kind of dream or hallucination, people cannot travel to their souls or other peoples souls.

Any sane person would think themselves trapped within a demented nightmare. But she knew it was reality and even though it shouldn’t bother her that he couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth, it did.

There was nothing to be done though. If he wanted to stand there mocking the corruption within her, something ultimately fatal to any Calerian and she doubted she was exception that was fine by her. She was going to have a look around, she had to do something otherwise she wouldn’t be here and standing around was not going to help the situation. Yet, the Calerian really had no idea where to go, the forest and whatever lay in or beyond it was a safe bet, after all there was nothing else around for what seemed like miles and miles.

Sighing, the disappointment probably clear in her eyes, Ira ran a hand through her short hair, “You can stay here and continue to delude yourself or whatever it is you’re doing. I’m going to fix this, one way or another it’ll end and I’m sorry you got dragged into it, I’ll find a way to get you out.”

Reaching out to touch him, yet stopping herself, the Calerian turned and headed towards the forest. It wasn’t too far yet the closer she got to it the more she wanted to stay away. Unlike Concordia where she’d been thrilled and amazed with every step surrounded by so much life, here there was nothing but death. None of the trees were living, dead, gnarled branches reached out from trees that never moved. Nothing was living within the forest either, there was no sound other than her own footsteps, which echoed and seemed louder than they should. There was no colour either. It was eerily like Purgatory within her own body and it was creeping her out.

“Ira…”

Pausing, Ira strained her ears to listen but heard nothing though she could swear she’d heard some female voice calling her name. She wanted to shrug it off but oddities like that never happened to Calerians. There was something within this forest but she couldn’t sense it for the life of her, she couldn’t sense anything. The thought of being attacked by Fallen entered her mind. She’d never travelled to her soul before, she didn’t know what the corruption looked like or even how one was exactly supposed to expel it other than the fact that you fought it. Still, that wasn’t going to help her. Yet there was no other choice but to continue forward, of course that didn’t mean she couldn’t prepare herself.

Closing her eyes, Ira tried to summon her armour. She’d never done it outside of Purgatory before and didn’t even know if it would work here yet it was a place of the soul so it should. Her first attempt failed but she didn’t give up, trying again she put more effort into it feeling a slight twitch of pain in her chest she ignore it. Hands clenched into fists at her side the armour finally emerged on her body, the material covering half of her face. Her left arm completely encased in metal, a forearm guard on her right, a chest plate with her crystal in the centre and shin guards.

When they finally emerged on her she opened her eyes and let out a relieved breath not even realizing that she’d been holding it in.

Feeling a little better, Ira continued into the forest.

[Storm Veritas]

The only thing that made sense was to ramble on. Ira, although bizarre, frightening, and extraordinarily unpredictable, was the only thing in this obscene dreamscape that he recognized. An obviously powerful heroine, Storm elected to accept the guidance of the possibly insane rather than simply venture forth on his own. Whatever was out there, whatever lay beyond the treeline, he would rather face it headlong than on his own.

But what the hell is this? And what of noise?

Feeling healthy but deaf, the faintest breeze registered loudly in his ears. Was it hallucination? Was it a wish? Her voice came to him clear, but here he was devoid of senses. Smell, for one, was clearly missing. The lithe Ira carried on her a sultry scent of light sweat, pheromones and some perfumed sex appeal, but here in this parallel there was nothing. Footfalls came and went without a sound, something Storm would have gladly learned in his burgling days. The wind that hit the treeline even shook the leaves without noise, their dead rustle conspicuously absent.

His eyes were wide, the light quite impressive through the thick din of the canopy-topped forest. Generally the forest held a dusky feel throughout the day, dense trees blocking out the majority of sun from ever hitting the floor. Here, it was different; there was very little fauna, yet the flora which graced the wood was staggering. Thick, lush grass on the ground was coated with a soft, snowy dew, and this place had no errant sticks or potentially ankle-devastating rocks cropped about. Even the trees seem to exist without root, and the sun seemed to dance freely through the trees unto his face, which neither burned nor felt cold.

Actually, I’d appreciate a burn, or pinch, or any type of feel. This is just… weird.

Ira’s skin erupted with a brilliant armor, something that took the veteran Veritas back. This was ungodly, something he had never witnessed before. Ornate, white, and gorgeous, it was custom fit for her slender, athletic build. A sort of noble knight, some gleaming vision, Ira was transformed. His mouth agape, he didn’t bother with words. They were a waste.

And suddenly, still clad in merely his bloodied, slightly tattered suit and knives, Storm was feeling very naked in the brush.

[Iriah Caitrak]

Looking behind her, Ira saw that Storm had elected to follow her instead of stay behind. Perhaps her words had meant something to him, or perhaps he’d just decided she seemed to know a little of what was going on and it might be a good idea to follow the crazy lady. Either way made no difference to her. He might prove useful in this place, he might prove to be a burden, she really had no idea. This was her first time here and she was beginning to question why some of the Calerian’s in the tribe even liked going to their souls. Hers did not seem like a very happy place at the moment, perhaps when the corruption was not within it was different. She wouldn’t know, not until she’d defeated the corruption in whatever form or whatever way she had to. Perhaps she’d still be able to enjoy the rest of the festival, or perhaps she’d lose and become some kind of monster, possibly destroying the trapped soul of Storm in the process and numerous people from the tribe. That did not sound appealing to her.

Slowing down, Ira allowed Storm to catch up with her. His mouth was slightly agape and he was staring at her armour as if it was the most mysterious and beautiful thing in the world. She looked down and saw the same thing she did whenever she summoned the protective metal. It was so normal to her and her people; perhaps Storm had never seen anything like it before that could be the only thing she could think of.

“I would think being able to form metal over my body would not be so surprising to someone who can shoot bolts of lightning from his fingertips.”

That was surprising, to her at least. That was magic, this was just the symbiotic relationship of the crystals she was bound to. They would grow stronger as she grew stronger and in time the armour would grow to cover more and more of her body. Some Calerians had very few armour from their Serenna Crystal, because they did not have a very strong connection with it. She was lucky, having strong connections with both of her crystals, yet that didn’t seem to be helping her. Twice she’d been corrupted now even with those connections, not to mention a small incident in Raiaera with Damon Kaosi. She didn’t know if she could count that as corruption, it had come and gone very quickly, perhaps it had been a warning that she was getting close or that something was wrong within her. She didn’t know and she might not ever know the answer to that one. It was of no consequence to what was happening now though. Looking back at that could not help her; she needed to keep herself sharply focused on her surroundings for anything really.

Picking up the pace once again with Storm by her side, Ira continued to lead the way through the forest. She had no idea where she was going and no idea what would be awaiting her there. She just wished the trip would be different. The shadows from the bare branches of the trees seemed to slowly be reaching towards her. Gnarled, bone like fingers trying to grasp and rip away at flesh that were nothing but mere replicas of the actual things that created them. Twisted, bare branches looking like disfigured arms and fingers withered and caught somewhere dying. Hollow places where solid wood should be were shadows instead giving life to the trees, a forest of screaming faces in an eternal play of agony looking for that simple relief of rotting away. Shuddering at the thought of it the Calerian tried to ignore the scenery and push forward.

Time passed, time she couldn’t keep track of. Everything looked the same and the sun never seemed to move. Eventually the forest gave way to a clearing. Like where she had awoken there were small stone structures within this clearing as well, the stones long since eroded by whatever winds blew in this place and time. Among the scattered stone work were tents, most of which had fallen into disrepair. The wood holding the material was rotting away and collapsing under the weight. Most were nothing more than a few large sticks barely holding on, any slight breeze would disturb them and finally allow the wood to give in. Nothing moved in this place though, like the forest it seemed frozen in time, brittle yet untouchable all at once.

Ira…

Eyes darted around the area as Ira tried to find the source of the voice. It was almost like the very wind was carrying it, like this very place was speaking it. She just wondered if Storm could hear it as well or if she really was starting to go crazy. As she looked around she noticed some kind of larger structure to the back of what had once been a tribe, she just hoped it wasn’t a representation of her tribe. Making her way there Ira soon saw the structure was a tent, a very large one in fact. Not at all unlike the tents in her tribe. The flaps were down and she couldn’t see inside, but pushing them open Ira quickly entered and found…nothing. There was furniture, tapestries, rugs, a fire frozen in place. It was like someone’s home but there wasn’t anyone here. Now what was she supposed to do.


(Storm will be able to hear the voice and if you can’t think of anything to do let me know and I’ll give you something.)