Under Oath of Innocence

[The Madd Hatter]

Shadows danced a mad waltz across the sky, flames licking the moon and silver Light battling Darkness. Fury rose like bile, bubbling to the surface and escaping in screams and roars, primeval power beyond comprehension. Death and Life held hands, bridging the barrier. Rain fell, droplets breaching the heavenly gates and speeding to the surface world, slamming into the lifeless ground with passion. The water churned, thriving and feeding on the shell left behind, rejuvenating itself. Growing. The onslaught continued, the plasma in the air churning electricity and energy between the sky and ground. Bolts of lightning struck, breaking the flow and rupturing the air, soundless in their might. Empathy emerged, bathed in light, illuminated by darkness, a halo of silence following in her wake. Thrusting hands into the sky, she brought down the mighty lake that waited there, a tidal wave and euphoric release. Life and Death stepped down, resting with the water. Fury settled, Rain sighed of joy. Darkness and Light kissed the raw husk, now a beautiful thing to be envied. Life settled, and Death ascended, leaving only Passion, Pain, and Desire. Forever joined, until Death fell once more, Life, Passion, Pain, Desire, Fury, Light, Empathy, Rain, and Darkness.

Only…Love was lost.

Dawn.

“Ah, you’re awake. Good, cup of tea?”

The kind, soft voice was like a blanket, covering her form in relief and regret. Blinking the sleep out of her eyes, the girl, who could have been no more than eighteen, sat up. Confusion settled down on her face for but a moment, but then she glanced around and saw that she was in a place she remembered. Trees surrounded her, the canopy above and crushed leaves below. Light, tinted to shine like macabre rubies, broke through in rays and illuminated her resting spot. Only, now there was a small wooden hand-carved table, a table cloth, and a silver set of pitchers with two porcelain tea cups. A man in a dark blue coat with a matching top hat sat at the table, his chair hidden behind the cloth, and he was pouring tea for himself and adding sugar.

After a short stretch, the girl brushed off her cotton hunter’s pants, checked her unstrung bow, quivers, and backpack for damage or missing parts, then stood. Shortly she realized that she had undone her blouse before sleeping, and quickly buttoned it. The man, whoever he was, never seemed to notice and continued adding small spoonfuls of sugar to his drink. She had lost count a long time ago. Rolling up the khaki sleeves and fixing its cloth collar, the huntress strode over to the table and sat down. Unsure for only a moment, she reached for the pitcher of tea.

“No, no, my dear, allow me. How many lumps?”

Surprised at his chivalry, she hesitated before stating, “Three, please.” Watching his delicate actions and unintentional graceful flair, the girl quickly ascertained that he must be some sort of noble. The huntress opened her mouth to speak, to ask a variety of questions that all hopefully had very good answers, but found a loss for words. A cup of tea was set before her, and the man seated himself once more. He had kind features, very handsome, and she could easily imagine herself getting lost in those auburn eyes. When he noticed her staring, he returned the gaze gently and smiled, a genuine, happy smile. Something that lone huntresses like her hadn’t seen in a long time; it was quite nice to have company.

“Forgive myself for not introducing me,” he stopped for a moment, maybe realizing that this wasn’t wrong, but didn’t hesitate to continue, “I am Frederick Von Maddsenberg, my calls friend me Freddy. They oblige themselves to believe myself humorous enough to keep company with. How has your week went gone so far, Laura?” Smooth and elegant was his talking, but at moments Laura didn’t have a clue what he was talking about. The shock of him knowing her name floated on the surface of her consciousness and never really settled in.

“I am fine. The hunting is good,” that was a lie, “and it is a beautiful forest to be alone it,” another lie, “but I intend on returning to my home soon,” yet again, a fib, but she said it only because it seemed the polite thing to say. It would abide for further questioning, and release her from sorrowful thoughts. Maybe, if she pretended that everything in her life was fine, and then he would leave her alone. Return to regiment, uniform sadness. Her surprises weren’t about to end.

“Laura, I don’t mind you telling stories, but I came here to help you find your father. He lost you, and I want you to help me help you get found by him. He is very worried.”

Shocked, she sat up straighter and set down her glass of tea. Wordless silence passed for a few seconds, his eyes still portraying that gracious and ambivalent generosity that was so alien to most humans. Then again, if he weren’t human, then it would explain how he got out in the middle of the Red Forest unscathed with a table and tea. Maybe a caravan was hiding in the forest nearby, or maybe he was just an illusion of her sadness. The latter would explain why he knew so much about her. Slowly he took another sip of his tea, his soft eyes never leaving hers. Flashes of lightning, dreams and nightmares all raged behind her own eyes for but a moment then she broke away.

Laura didn’t understand why, but she found herself giving up her rebellion and even a smile creeping onto her face. Relief wafted through the air like a tangible wave, sweeping over her prone form and releasing tension from her muscles. With a very firm but grateful smile, she looked back at Freddy and returned, “I accept your help, Sir Frederick.”

“Good, because the others are almost here!”

[Traveler]

A man in a long blue coat approached the edge of the forest. He carried a long staff and lantern, and ushered himself beyond the first tall trees despite the warnings of the elf standing behind him.

“You do not understand, traveler,” he whispered slowly in the common tongue, “This forest bears an eternal curse... all that waits you is a shallow grave in there.” The Traveler turned to face his guide with the black goggles he wore.
“You have been most helpful, dear guide, but do not worry for me. Return to your safe home.”

The elf pleaded a while longer, but eventually relented as the sun began to set, and dashed back down the path that he had come from. And when the guide was beyond sight, the Traveler turned again to the forest and lit the lantern he held in his left hand. It was the same vision. The darkness of the trees ahead called to the Traveler, beckoning him forward with his lantern light, and the Traveler calmly stepped forth. He had done so a thousand times already.

It had been in a dream, a brief vision of this moment. Long before he had reached the land of Althanas, he had dreamed of stepping between those trees as night fell with a lantern in hand. The Traveler recognized the dreams; they signified a morphume, a luring vision, and the wanderer had learned of it from the dreamers of Vapross. Dreams are the exercise of the sleeping mind, and occasionally a mind will wander in its sleep and accidentally connect with something. A point in space and time of significance to the dreamer. And the connection will be maintained until the appointment is met.

Ahead, the forest grew darker. Vines and tall weeds snaked along the ground, and all of it was a dusky red bathed in the moonlight. For as far as the Traveler could see, the forest with its insubstantial boundaries consumed the edges of the land, stretching far off past the horizon. It was a beast, and it would consume him as well if he did not tread with caution.

There is no time for deliberation here, Traveler... a voice whispered on the edges of the wind that blew through the forest. You cannot afford the luxury of an easy pace any further. Though you come to travel here, your sight-seeing will be second to survival. The tone was harsh, and it was with some surprise that the Traveler found the voice to be his own.

There was no reprise, and so the Traveler shook the thoughts away, held out his lantern and ventured into the forest proper.

******

Hours passed, and the Traveler found himself panting, leaning against a single tall oak. His hair was sopping with sweat, the droplets dissipating into sparks of light as they dripped off of his head. The air of the night forest was unnaturally humid, hampering the wind with moisture. Cuts and abrasions dotted the Traveler's face, and his coat was covered in dirt from the encounters with creatures, animal and plant, who simply appeared in his path. All of them hellbent on continuing their vicious life-cycle. Though he did not tire easily, the Traveler had endured the loop of strike and run from the first moment of his habitation in the forest. It was only now that the forest seemed truly quiet, and the Traveler did not take comfort in that. All that it signified was a cease of audible motion, and was destined to break again.

The voice returned during his rest. Your form is not suited for this labor. You will be overtaken soon enough, and will be forced to start anew. It was louder than before, and the Traveler realized that he was close enough to the rendezvous to hear the voice of predetermined circumstance (predetermined by who? What? He could not say) calling to him. And tired though he was, his muscles weak and shuddering, he pushed away from the tree and moved back onto the path he had been on before.

Behind the Traveler, the tree howled. The wolf-like creatures that had piled on top of one another, all prompting the illusion of a tall and mighty oak, now leaped off of one another and swarmed the solitary figure, who darted further down the path. The Traveler clutched his walking staff, his heartbeat pulsing through his hands as he swept at a row of the beasts behind him, only for another cluster to leap over the first. The legs of the beasts were far better developed than those of the Traveler, and this cluster was soon in front of him, leaping and snatching at him and halting his forward momentum. And then the wolves charging from behind were upon him.

The beasts roared as their claws dug into flesh and their teeth found solid grips, covering the Traveler is a writhing blanket of animals. Do you yet realize it? You will never reach this place. Return to oblivion, Traveler, and better arm yourself.

The Traveler thought in return, Do not spend your worry on me. It is the case that either I will or will not defend myself here. And I have been here before. And then beneath the coat of wolves, the Traveler began to glow bright blue. His head became filled with theories, ideas and memories of times, races, customs, religions, all that once came to pass in his experience. He thought of Vapross and its dreamers, to whom the physical body meant nothing. Those people, more gas than solid, drifted across the skies and pierced through the veil of their psyche to an understanding more profound than can be taught or measured. Eventually their bodies would dematerialize and become a part of the atmosphere, rich with the knowledge that had been obtained, which would congeal and collect until it became a new dreamer.

To the beasts with only a vague sentience, it was like an electric shock. Confounded, confused with the thoughts that poured through their head, the wolves became disoriented. They thrashed and released their grip on the Traveler, scattering in a daze through the forest. And the body of the Traveler, sprawled on the ground, bled quietly in the night. It shuddered once, the lantern knocked over and burning nearby, and an arm rose up slowly and gripped the dirt, shuddered twice and then fell limp again. The quiet voice reached out to the Traveler again, but it fell on deaf ears.

******

“The rendezvous...” The Traveler slowly opened his eyes. He remained sprawled on the ground, and daylight poked through the red foliage of the forest. An ache ran through his body, but he was able to pick himself off the ground with support from his staff. He nodded to the tall black rod before surveying his surroundings. The draw of the morphume was still tugging at him, but it was weaker now. Either it had moved, or he had.

The Traveler heard the sounds of people nearby, and turned to find a patch of forest clear of vines and tangled growth. He saw the table, and the two people sitting at it, having tea. The Traveler felt weak, but nevertheless hobbled toward the clearing. As he stepped toward the pair, he bowed to them politely. “Hello, fellow wanderers.”

[The Cinderella Man]

“This is the end of the road for you, pal.” Victor thought as he looked down the barrel of his revolver. On the other side, beyond the muzzle and the mouth of the gun, a large brown eye looked up at him amicably, unknowingly, the eyes of a child that made a misstep without knowing it. It was almost enough to stay the hand of the washed out prizefighter. Maybe it wasn’t the eye of the child that peered at him in a silent plea for some kind of mercy, but there were still emotions beyond those irises. But then, somewhere in the distance and to the left, a beast howled like no wolf Victor ever heard and the uncertain finger on the trigger of the Widowmaker steadied itself. It was better then leaving him to the wolves.

The revolver made a roar out of the single shot, the bullet crashing through bone and blood and brain, bringing death in tow. The eyes of the steed went empty in a flash, the sinewy legs – three of them at least – assaulted by a handful of death spasms, but after that was done, there were no more signs of life within the beast. Victor holstered his weapon of execution, swung the saddlebag over his shoulder and started walking away from the howls.

“Probably the end of the damn road for me too.” With his mount still alive, there was still a chance – however slim – to get out of the Red Forest alive. Thrice now he managed to escape those insane carnivorous trees that transformed into a pack of wolves in no more then a blink of an eye, but the third time wasn’t a charm for his mount. The foliage was so dense and packed with wide-leafed ferns that there was no way of foretelling there was a slanted, smooth stone beneath it. At galloping speed, the man and the beast came crashing down as if they just ran into a platoon of pikemen. Victor wound up with nothing but a bruised shoulder, but the front leg of his mount was all twisted and wrong with a fragment of bloodied bone jutting out. He knew what he had to do as soon as he saw that leg.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this though. It was supposed to easy, easy as the figurative pie as a matter of fact. Months ago, the prizefighter opted for Raiaera as the next destination of his vagabonding. Elves are kindly fair folk he thought; they wouldn’t mind a wanderer such as him checking out the boxing arenas in the less fortunate districts. As it turned out, the elves were kindly and fair, but prizefighting wasn’t their favorite sport. Sport of the mindless they called it, and one could scarcely find a bout in the elven cities. Save for the back alley kind, of course, which could be found everywhere, but Victor was too old and too weary to get into that kind of blood sport. So instead of doing what he was trained to do, Victor Callahan took one of the jobs from the board in a Singing Blades tavern. Protect the convoy in and out of Red Forest. Easy money.

It would’ve been too if the Red Forest wasn’t less of a forest and more of a labyrinth packed with traps and devilry that had no connection whatsoever with sanity. The eerily red hue of everything was quite disconcerting, but he could handle that. It wasn’t even that bad during the first night. But when about an hour before dawn that same red environment started to literary pluck people from his convoy with what looked like animated vines, fishing people off their saddles and into the canopy above only to return nothing but lifeless bloodless corpses, Victor realized that once again he got himself in over his head. What the vines didn’t suck dry, the horde of wolves tore apart, the ferocious beasts unlike any wolf the boxer ever saw. The only reason why he lived and others didn’t was because he rode deeper into the forest instead of trying to defeat the Forest and seek an exit back the way they came. Only then he remembered the elf that offered to guide them through the Red Forest and the unheeding expression on the face of the caravan leader. The face that was probably being chewed off by the wolves even now.

As if his current pickle wasn’t dismal enough, the memory of his temporary companions made it even more gloomy. Sure, they were mostly idiots and swashbucklers without a pinch of manners between them, but larger numbers increased the odds and one made a far cry hope look like a welcoming sight. Somewhere above and beyond the Red Forest, a vibrant dawn was breaking, but little of it made it through the rich crowns and their bloody leaves. What did make it through only added to the sullen reddish atmosphere. Victor never ventured into Haidia, but he heard enough stories to assume the magical illumination there looked a bit like the coloration of the Red Forest.

The howls again. This time they seemed closer, angrier, though it might’ve been just his mind playing tricks. Or the Forest playing tricks on him. Either way, the lone wanderer lengthened his stride, disregarding how little difference a few steps would make if the wolves were on his tail. Caught in the deliberation about his probable demise, Victor almost didn’t notice the clearing up ahead. Once he did though, he had to admit that something was awry with it just as it was with the entire forest. The crazy trio – for you had to be crazy to organize a picnic in a middle of a cursed forest – seemed to be having tea in the middle of the clearing. The man in a ridiculous looking hat was sipping on it in a gentleman-like fashion, the young lass at his side armed to the teeth and sleepy-eyed. To complete the image that shouldn’t have been, there was a gray old man leaning on his staff. How he managed to get this far into the forest Victor couldn’t even imagine. What he could imagine was this being some wretched trickery, possibly conjured by the bloody forest, so he took his revolver out and doggedly stepped into the clearing. He didn’t point the weapon at anybody, but his fingers were itchy enough to do so should the amicable picture metamorphose in a hostile one.

“Whoever you weird people are, I hope you know the way out of this damned forest. There are monsters afoot.” he spoke, moving out of the shade and into the sun.

[The Madd Hatter]

It had taken several sips of tea, but Laura had finally woken her mind up enough to think clearly. She tried her best to recollect what had happened the previous night. She had been tracked by a pack of lycanthropes, running through the woods only fast enough to keep a small pace ahead of them. As the darkness lowered, Laura remembered slowing down to a stop and turning and fighting, sending a sure arrow through all of them. But, suddenly her memories blurred and then faded all together, so that she couldn’t remember how, exactly, she got into this clearing with her blouse undone. The last clear memory was her drawing back her bow string to drive a poison-tipped arrow deep into the head of an especially massive wolf that had bristled fur reaching her head. The Huntress thought that maybe she had gone into a rage and was drunk on her body’s adrenaline, maybe accounting for the memory loss. However, she didn’t get the proper time to think about this for soon another visitor entered the clearing. Obviously one of the people that Frederick referred for he instantly offered a seat. That is, a seat that hadn’t been there last time she checked. In fact, two more seats had been added and two full cups of steaming hot tea.

“The tea is hot…and fresh brewed?”

It hit her like a freight train. Somehow this insanely paradoxical gentleman had gotten this deep into the Red Forest, the most damned and dangerous part of Raiaera, unscratched, with a table, and managed to start a fire and brew tea without attracting the attention of the beasts. There was only two options left in her mind then as to what he was; either unbelievably powerful, or the forest was scared of him. Both of them meant that she was possibly in deep trouble or great company around him. The old man that had entered the small clearing was almost completely out of her mind until she saw blood trickling down from many parts of his body. Gasping in alarm that he had managed to still be able to walk, she got up and walked over to him. Turning to the gentleman she asked, “Do you have any bandages?”

“Of course I believe I do, M’lady,” smiling generously he reached into his coat pocket without looking and pulled out a large roll of medical bandaging. A pale peach color, it seemed to be a very fine material and was well suited for stopping bleeding. Taking it without even thinking, she approached the man and looked at him in the eyes for only a second.

“Sit down. I need to stop your bleeding or you might pass out. An unconscious man will never survive in these brutal woods.” Barely waiting for him to respond she pushed him into her a chair and wrapped his arm and leg to slow the bleeding. She could tell by the scent of the cloth that there were medicated herbs blended in, giving her more confidence in the resourcefulness of the gentleman, Freddy. The very same man who was currently sitting there, sipping tea, and watching her with an unreadable wild expression; for all she knew he might be ready to make love to her or draw a sword. Trying to distract herself, she double-checked the man’s wounds before sitting down herself.

“Freddy, we really should be moving soon. Staying in one place for too long is just asking for trouble. I have things I need to do here before I leave, and if you really want to get me back to my father, then you are just going to have to help me. Whether you like it or not, I refuse to leave the forest without finishing.” She heard an almost inaudible happy sigh escape the man’s lips before he nodded and returned to his tea. Sitting up straighter she glanced to the older gentleman.

“I am Laura, and this is Freddy. How may we call you by, traveler?”

How an old man reached this deep in the forest as well was a good question, but she decided against asking it. Everyone seemed very out of place, and she worried for their safety. Freddy himself obviously found no concern in the dangers of this place, but a single glance into his eyes revealed the pure insanity that rested there. Everything was passing so fast, leaving her no time to just try and contemplate the rationales behind the seeming coincidence of all of them meeting in this particular clearing in the most dangerous forest of Althanas. Just as things seemed to slow down for a second as the wave of relaxation waved over her yet again, Freddy held up a finger as if to say there was reason to wait. Perfectly timing it, another man pushed into the clearing wielding a gun and very tense muscles. Then he made the most obvious comment about monsters, only made obvious by their current locale.

“Good Morning, Sir. Have a seat.” Freddy spoke up, smiling lucidly and waving to the table. Laura once more introduced herself and the Hatter. The experience of having nice chat and calm conversation in the deep evil of the crimson gleam of this monster breeding ground never really wore off. As time passed without a dangerous interloper, she grew more and more tense for the worry that the longer the silence continues, the greater the amount of beasts waiting in the shadows.

“Really, nice that we have company, but we should go. Now.”

Standing, Laura quickly strung her bow and pulled out a black-shafted arrow that had a silver tip, which glowed with a strange moonlight-like aura. The howling of lycanthropes in the distance only helped to reinforce her point.

“And…we won’t be leaving. Either come with us, or find your own way out,” She turned, impatiently, and watched the three men and waited for an answer.

[Traveler]

The Traveler nearly lost his grip on his staff as the young lady named Laura ran to his side and ushered him to the table. Supporting his entire weight on the relic, the blue-coated man didn't realize how tired he had become until he collapsed in a chair at the tea table, the walking stick falling to the ground beside him. His arms and legs were very nearly numb, and the bleeding wounds that Laura wrapped the medical strips around only registered as a dull beat of warmth. He took a deep deep breath, and thought his thankfulness to the young woman in her mind. He thought it to her in gentle pulses, unlike the sporadic shock of Truth that he had given to the wolves before.

The Traveler thought to her of “the thanking servitude” as it is called by the serpents of Searth, where survival is a luxury. If one of these serpents should be aided by another, the repayment is the life of the first. It is not a philosophy, it is a biological truth. The mind of the rescued becomes a subsidiary of the rescuer, bound willingly to the greater's will. In his thoughts, the Traveler pledged himself to return Laura's kindness.

Other than the mental gesture, the white-haired man did little but observe, and murmured “Traveler will do,” as his name was asked. There was a moment to rest his mind, the the Traveler seized the reprieve. He would return to the conflict of the Red Forest once it presented itself again. He darted his eyes over the top-hatted man sitting beside him sipping tea from a cup that never seemed to empty. Though a cupful of tea sat steaming in front of the Traveler, he had not the strength to lift his arm and hold the cup. He would sit a while longer until it returned.

The gun bearer reached the clearing, much less dirty and worn than the Traveler had been when he broke the clearing, but the adrenaline from struggle was nevertheless shining in his eyes as he addressed the three sitting at the table. He wanted out of the forest. The Traveler felt the forest calling to him, and knew that he could not help the gun bearer yet. So when Laura stood up and drew out her armaments, he shakily rose to his feet with his hands on his knees, finding his strength creeping back like drops of molasses. He slowly reached for the teacup at his end of the table, quaffed the entire hot concoction in two gulps and let the warmth explode across his tongue and in his stomach, and the heat billowed through to the rest of his limbs. Steam seeped from the corners of his mouth.

“I will accompany you.” he replied to Laura, looking from the hatter to the gun bearer. He adjusted his black spectacles before bending down to pick up his staff. “It will only be a matter of time before the dangers of the forest will no longer be held back by whatever keeps this clearing safe. We will be forced to face them regardless.”

The Traveler walked beside Laura and gestured to the forest. “What do you seek in there? I too have a rendezvous in that red labyrinth.”

[The Cinderella Man]

“What the hell?! Who are these people? The traveling brainsick with a deathwish?” That was Vic’s first thought, for it certainly seemed so. Victor was relatively positive that insanity wasn’t a sickness that could be transferred by touch or socializing, but these three seemed to be caught in a little world of their own, where there was perfectly normal to have tea parties in a middle of monster-infested forest. His second thought was that this looked a bit too convenient. In a forest where the flora ate the fauna and where the fauna had a bad habit of shape-changing into the flora, maybe there was something that changed into a pack of amicable travelers. And if he strolled in and took a seat, he would actually be walking down the gullet of some monstrosity that had the ability to conjure some pretty believable illusions.

Rather attractive too. The young lass was quite an eye candy, all flushed and fired up to do whatever task she intended to do. Her hair was tousled from the sleep, giving her a rather wild, untamed look, but there was undeniable fairness in both her lineaments and her figure. Not the elven kind though, and for that Victor was thankful. He met and conversed with enough elven women during his stay in Raiaera to realize that they were ladies all the way down to that shield of frigidity that made it certain you were below their level. Way down below their level. This girl – which introduced herself as Laura – had a more mundane beauty, the more homely kind that the gunman appreciated. He could trust her, despite the fact that she had some definite prowess with her bow. The other two were just a tad too weird.

The old man seemed genuinely ancient, barely keeping himself seated in one of the chairs. Bruised, bloodied, bandaged, with an exasperated face, the geezer looked like somebody robbed him, beat him silly and threw him in the middle of the Red Forest instead of some back alley. Victor reckoned that it were the wolves that did the beating – or some other monstrosity beneath the reddish canopy – but if that was the case, there had to be more then met the eye to him if he made it out of that fight with his life. And that was reason enough to keep a watchful eye on him. The gun-totting wanderer maybe wasn’t knowledgeable in the ways of magic, but he knew full well that wizards with gray beards and bushy eyebrows usually had lightning shooting out of their ass and fire spewing from their nostrils.

The third member of the unlikely party was the greatest mystery of all, and it wasn’t because of the dumb looking head apparel. The top hat maybe was something Victor expected those fake magicians to don, making sure they have enough room to fit a rabbit or a dove or something else beneath the fake bottom, but it wasn’t nearly as unsettling as the expression on Freddy’s face. It was the pretty boy, wiseass expression, the kind that made you think he knew some secret you didn’t. Maybe it was just prejudice and caution working in Vic’s mind, but he decided that he liked the man with the topper the least. However, given the limited choices in the current situation and the usual gloomy outlook, that didn’t come as much of a surprise. People that Victor actually liked nowadays were as scarce as sunny clearings in the Red Forest.

“Yeah, she’s right. We ought to be... Wait, what do you mean, you won’t be leaving?!” It shouldn’t have been such a surprise coming from people that drank tea in a haunted forest, and yet it was. Out of the three that stood before him, only Laura was armed – not counting the dying Traveler and his walking staff – and yet they meant to proceed deeper into the forest. She maybe wielded a mean bow (or maybe she didn’t), but as it stood right then and there, the chances of those harebrained three to make it out alive were about as good as finding an elf dame that would lay with a dwarf.

“Hell if I’ll take a stroll down death street.” the cynical pistoleer thought, adjusting the saddlebag on his shoulder and holstering his firearm. However, even as he did so, the wolves that were on his tail for most of the morning reiterated their yowls, this time announcing that they were probably feasting on his fallen steed. Unfortunately, it also meant that they barred the way north that led towards the exit from the Forest. He’d have to go through them to reach freedom... or he could follow the trio.

“There’s strength in numbers.” he reminded himself. And while it didn’t seem like there was much strength in these numbers, with an unarmed gentleman wannabe and a century-old graybeard, it was still better then nothing. “Just so you know, I think you’re all nuts for going deeper in the forest.” Victor said as he stepped further forward, making it clear that he too was joining in this collective madness.

[The Madd Hatter]

Mortals always scurried about as if they would die in the next few seconds. Sometimes it was true, that in a place where death hung ambivalent in the air, always present and forever around the next corner, it was hard not to worry about death. Yet, the Hatter found that when one of these beings truly greeted the silent harbinger, all the sins and worries washed away and only bliss remained. Why, then, did they fear what they feared, for it embodied bliss. This would never equate sense to Freddy, so he let his curiosity find a dark corner and hide there for a moment.

Two tea cups remained. A third sat, forgotten, on the cool crimson blades of grass, its contents being collected by greedy ants. Concentrating on it and making sure his thoughts only included it, Freddy watched in silence as the cup eroded at miraculous speeds. None of the others would notice, because these creatures never took notice of the small things around them. The sap dripping from the trees, the tiny and almost invisible fangs that lined the inside of the bark of a suspicious elm only yards from their location. A spider, benign, crawling up the gunman’s leg, dirt churning underfoot in eager anticipation, knowing a corpse would soon lay on it and impatient to consume fresh rot. All of this went unnoticed by their hurried, timid eyes, but the Hatter saw it all, even while he watched his manifestation turn to dust as he released it with grace.

Laura was in a hurry to reach her destination, but only because her destination was in a hurry not to be reached. The Gunman was rushing to leave the forest, unsure of his position but willing to remain in the company of other beings as long as it provided a sense of security. The Elder sought out something very close by but very far away, and the Hatter dared not guess what it was. Standing with ease and patience, he looked deep into Laura’s eyes, knowing that she was his only concern. Then, smiling, he set down his tea cup and made sure his coat was on straight. Taking every precious moment he could, the Hatter moved over to the Huntress and put one firm, gentle, and unemotional hand on her shoulder. Smiling to her, he quickly spoke.

“Well, it would be that we are friends, then. All of us. If you are all in such a hurry, we should be off then,” turning to the old man who was both fragile and strong in one breath, he hoped his tea had helped the man recover somewhat and phrased a question that wasn’t truly a question, “You can walk, I hope.”


Laura drew her bow back, notching an arrow and letting her calm hunter’s instincts take over. From the poise and fear that was in her every precise moment, even an idiot could tell she was experienced, dangerous, and rightfully fearful of this forest. Not afraid for himself, but for his new company, Freddy reached both of his hands into his jacket pockets and pulled out cunningly crafted curved dirks. The blades fit perfectly in his hand, the hilt having a hand piece so that he could slip his fingers through the holes, each designed for his spindly fingers, and hold it with certainty. If needed, they could be used to both cause some damage with punching and cutting. Not mentioning that he had never used them before was a very good thing to boost morale right now, for they looked clever and their clever user didn’t know how to use them. If it tries to bite, bite back.

The Huntress smiled to the Traveler, the only answer she would give to his question and looked back at the handsome gun-totting figure. Built like a tank, she felt more confidence in his abilities then she did in anyone else. After a second of silence she took a step out of the clearing and instantly lost the sense of security that held her for so long. The Red Forest was a wasteland of death in every way, and it never let you forget that. Each twig you step on, each tree you pass, and every amiable beauty you see could eat you alive without thinking twice. Dog eat dog, tree eat tree.

“This is suicide,” she whispered, low enough to not have anyone hear, because she had never ventured so deep into the Forest, and now they were going to head even deeper. Civilization and safety were miles away. Laura wasn’t willing to explain where they were heading, or why, not yet, but she knew the way like the back of her hand. Turning to face the others, she smiled as confidently as she could manage.

“Try to keep up. A fallen partner is a dead one.” Then she moved out, at a slow but deliberate pace, swinging her eyes carefully in a wide angle in front of her. The forest looked ready to strike, impatient with the peace.

[Traveler]

There was no immediate reaction from the Red Forest. The party of four slowly tread out of the clearing and back into the forest proper, but no sort of monstrous beast or plant or tree leaped from the darkness to engulf them. As if to heighten the suspense, the trees ceased to shake with the sounds of small animals, birds or any sort of life. Walking underneath the red canopy, the travelers listened as all noise seemed to recede like a tide.

The Traveler tightened his grip on the ebony staff and hobbled near the center of the group. Though no specific order had been decided, Laura nevertheless took point with the others close behind. Their tight formation held its shape rigidly as they marched for a full five minutes with no sign of any danger. Weeds and wild vines seemed to be retreating from the path that the crew had chosen, the forest itself seemed to be withdrawing. The dirt underfoot felt hard as concrete, and no longer yielded to the foot as it had done in the early morning.

“The forest has become tense. Like a man who knows he will be struck.” the Traveler stooped low to the ground, clutching his staff with both hands and kneeling to the dirt. Small pebbles began to dance and hop between the small grasses. A rumble stirred the air as the morning light was engulfed in fire. The sky that could be seen through the break in the trees was red and white, and the light pierced the curtain of leaves. A roiling heat engulfed the four.

The air was ablaze as a speck of black ignited the atmosphere. It pierced the sky like an arrow and flew across the top of the Red Forest. Its shadow could be seen for a fraction of an instant as it sailed over the trees above Laura and the others. The Traveler braced himself against the earth as something hit the forest in the great distance. The impact was silent. It was followed by a concussion that streaked through the dirt and a hot, violent wind that ripped through the trees. When the light died down, it might as well have been night once more in comparison.

The quakes and the winds died down after a moment or two, but the Traveler still clutched at the ground. He waited for the aftershock. From deep within the forest there came the roar of something impossibly vast and angry. The Lindequalmë was recoiling from the impact as quickly as the impact had occurred. Thorny vines angrily lashed out all around the travelers, the trees shivered and moaned, and from the darkness ahead a swarm of ravenous knife-beaked birds shot through the air emitting tiny whistling noises.

A giant bulb erupted from the dirt just beyond the group's position, splitting down the middle in a ragged line that formed a mouth of nightmarish teeth. The maw of this bulb leaped into the air by a thick pulsating vine and snatched a mouthful of knifebeaks from the air like fish catching flies. It then sank back into the ground before its onlookers.

Everything had sprung back to life again. As the forest burst into fearless, amoral hunger, the Traveler looked off into the distance that had been flooded with sound and fury only moments ago.

[The Cinderella Man]

She was scared. Regardless of how much effort Laura put into donning a mask of serenity and resolve, fear was slipping through the cracks like sand slipped through fingers of a clutched fist. It was noticeable in the glimmer of her eyes, in the reluctant way she looked over her shoulder, in the smallest of quivers in her voice as she urged them to keep up. The reason Victor ascertained this wasn’t because he was an avid judge of character, and it sure as hell wasn’t because he was a mind reader. It was because it took one scared person to notice another. But despite this fright brought on by the untamed wilderness of the Red Forest, the brown-haired maiden proceeded onwards, armed and ready to react to any treat that might endanger her.

The fear that was mutual in the gunman and the bow-wielding huntress failed to find home in the remaining two members of their little suicidal mission to nowhere. The old man – that preferred to be called merely a traveler – seemed to have more of a studious expression on his face, as if he was back in his study, going through some dusty scrolls. Victor attributed this lack of worry to the man’s age; when you’ve already lived through the majority of your life, you weren’t as afraid to meet your end, even if it was bound to be really gruesome and really bloody. Unless, of course, he had some wicked magic in hiding behind that crummy exterior. In that case, it might’ve just been a look of confidence. Victor preferred the magic/confidence combination then the old age/carelessness.

And speaking of carelessness, Freddy seemed to be having it in abundance. The quasi-gentleman maybe drew his twin daggers out, but there was hardly any tension visible in him. “As if he’s taking a stroll through the woods.” There was no doubt anymore. Whatever madness clutched to this group of people, the man with the funny hat had to be the epicenter of it. All the more reason not to like him, Victor reminded himself.

All these realizations made him stick close to Laura, walking nearly at her right flank with his revolver raised to the side of his face and his eyes scanning the eerily tranquil forest. A proper tactic would’ve probably been that he took the rear so that there was an able fighter on both ends of their little group, but Freddy and the Traveler were more likely then not crazy people. And while the girl too seemed to be a few arrows short of a full quiver, at least she had some arrows. She was somebody he wouldn’t mind protecting.

“Oy, oy, getting in trouble over a girl again. You never learn---HOLY SHIT, WHAT THE HELL IS THAT!?!?!”

It was strange that the man with the oldest set of eyes saw it first – and a set of eyes hidden behind weird dark spectacles. Above their heads, a complete opposite of a shooting star shot across the azure, a dark streak on sunbathed azure that seemed to quench the day’s light. By the time it completed the descent and the muffled impact shook the forest, the morning was metamorphosed into the night, very much akin to the one through which Victor fled mere hours ago. And just like during the night, the monsters came. Raven-like birds dove beneath the canopy, some cutting through the branches with their beaks, some crushed by the tree’s vines, some swallowed by what looked like a really hungry plant with teeth that sprung from the ground.

Just as disturbing as the sight of this rebirth of their surroundings was the reappearance of the sound. The soundless environment from moments ago crumbled in front of this mixture of rustling clamor and evil buzz that made it clear that the forest was alive and moving, prowling, breathing, pissed off at whatever fell from the sky and dared to hurt it. The temperature rose to the point where sweat trickled from Victor’s brow whether he moved or not. And he had to move. These ravens weren’t scavengers that fed on the dead. No, they were predators, just like the toothy plant and the transforming wolfthings and the goddamn trees. Just like the entire forest.

Victor squeezed three shots from his gun, two missing the birds that flew dangerously low, the third one making one explode in a myriad of tiny tendrils of dark smoke. The fourth time his weapon roared, he directed it at the bulb, but the crimson bud of the plant seemed unaffected by the fist-sized hole at its side, the ravenous thing snapping its maw at everything in the proximity.

“A suggestion,” Victor shouted over the cawing of the black ravens. “Let us not go towards whatever the hell fell from the sky.” As if to defy his intentions to get away from the center of the hell that opened up around him, howls ripped through the blare of the awakened forest from behind, stronger and closer then the last time. Almost simultaneously, countless vines moved like a tangle of snakes from the trees, weaving a wall at their right. With the man-eating plant to the left and the threat of the wolves behind their backs, forward was the only path that didn’t mean instant death.

“On second thought, maybe we should.”

[The Madd Hatter]

There was comfort in numbers, even if there was maybe only two and three fourths sound minds present. Despite that, as Laura strode next to the massive warrior his fear eased her own surmounting anxiety. Moving beside him his meer presence and the down-to-earth reliance of his prowess in a problem gave her a profound sense of comfort. Nothing too great however, for this dark labyrinth allowed nothing in great supply, except death and danger.

A new presence had entered the air however and the Huntress had felt hairs prickling on her skin just moments before the elderly man spoke up. Then it happened, an event unexplainable. Though she had been watching the forest around her, and not the sky as the rest did, Laura felt enough from the silent impact and the breaking tension of the forest to know that it was something huge and most definitely powerful. This was simply a distraction, but strangely enough, it led them in the right direction.

The forest seemed aware of her destination and now was pushing and shoving from all directions with obvious threats to proceed forth. This eager path that lay before them, somehow still clear of purely deadly beasts, was almost as scary as the one that lay before them. With a soft glance at the man that stood at her shoulder, a worried expression crossed between their eyes and a small connection began on an undetectable level. This only came about because it seemed they among the party were the only two who realized that this mission might be the last of their adventures.

Freddy on the other hand didn’t even react when the forest picked up again. Instead he had casually grabbed a grape from a writhing vine and popped it into his mouth with a satisfied mumble. Not even noticing the death and destruction that lay at his ankles, the additude of the Hatter almost disgusted him. It wasn’t arrogance, and it wasn’t ignorance, but instead, it was simply insanity. Of all the people to have in his company, and who had first pledged his help to her, did it have to be one that so breached the edges of normality?

Is he even human? He can’t be! He doesn’t even know what death means!

By nature, all humans and mortals for that matter feared the end of their existence. This adherence lessened with age and wisedom, but never fully left. For that reason alone, she was pushed away from the two older members of their part, and in turn, pulled closed to the warrior. Taking more support in him then she would have normally, she drew back her arrow farther and let it fly into the air.

Just as a test, as if to see if the forest really did intend for them to move on to the landing site of the thing, the arrow was aimed in front of them. Instead of parting, the cloud of bladed birds was skewered in several parts and a few fell dead, others pivoting aside after a loss of wings. Then, finding their assailants, the birds swung around in a wide arc through the forest and began to drive at them from behind.

What the hell is going on?!?

There was no time for thought though, for those beasts would shread them to pieces, not to mention the wolves and deadly plants that enclosed on them at all times. With a strangely clear path before them, Laura shouted “Run!” before following her own command, drawing another arrow, and proceeding into the dark blood-soaked forest before her.

[Traveler]

Like a herd of sheep driven on by the dogs, the party was set into motion. They were pursued by a buzzing, flapping, roaring nightmare all along their flank. Of the four, only two were genuinely concerned for their well-being. The hatter himself probably ran alongside only so he didn't lose sight of his charge. The Traveler himself had nothing to fear beyond a setback in his path. But nevertheless they ran, or at least were herded, into the red darkness ahead.

They hopped over a frothing stream that lashed out at their fleeting ankles. Along their path the trees bent toward them and monstrous black apes grabbed for their hair from atop the foliage. With a keen eye the young gunslinger spotted traps made by human hands, and deftly led the others over and around the snares that would have otherwise cut their journey short.

For five minutes they ran through sheer madness as every sort of abomination lopped its way toward them. But there was no more shelter in this forest, the Traveler reflected, and he knew that without a shelter to work from a good group could not last long. Before he could reflect further they were engulfed in a cloud of smoke that smelled charry and acidic. The roars of the beasts that pursued them soon turned to whimpers as Laura and Victor ran headlong through the cloud while their cohorts followed. The fog itself was corrosive.

Panting and sweating as they ran into the fogbank where they could not be seen or smelled out by the Red Forest's horrors, the party soon fell prey to the fog. Inside their lungs their came a most unsettling stinging and breathing became painful and labored. Their flesh turned red and prickly. There was not a single dry eye to be found. But fueled by the panicked vigor of self-preservation, the youngest pushed on.

Their effort proved not to be fruitless. The smoke slowly diminished and soon faded entirely. The sound and fury of the forest became something distant, in the face of what stood before them. A behemoth of stone and red moss rose from the dirt itself. It was a ruin, a remnant of civilization before the land had become cursed. Though vegetation grew along the side of it like a man's beard, the building was firm and unyielding to the elements around it. It would make an excellent habitation if only temporary.

The Traveler stepped toward the entryway slowly and deliberately, understanding too well that a pure white stone, if laid to rest long enough in mud and filth will soon become as one with the muck.

[The Cinderella Man]

The pistoleer ran after Laura as fast as he could, ran until he breathed the fire out of his lungs, and then ran some more. The forest around them was like an obstacle course, only lacking a set pattern, ever changing, ever trying to take a bite of the four that dared to brave it. One moment they were hopping over ropey vines, the other they were ducking below the grabby hands of the devilish monkeys, fighting back the belligerent environment with arrows and bullets and curses. It was madness embodied and they were cutting through it like a knife, irritating the tissue and causing the body to fight back. The reason why they were doing it in the first place faded in front of sheer survival – at least it did so for Victor – and the only thing he could think of was the next step. And the next one. And the next one.

And one fleeting stride at a time, somehow the group made its way out of the storm. Or rather, given their location and the fact that there was still an entire Red Forest surrounding them, it seemed more like they arrived in the eye of it and that wasn’t such a comforting thought. Still, the stony construction that stood before them offered some reprieve at the very least. Unlike the hostile flora and the fauna, it had some coherence that offered certainty and reassurance. Not a whole lot given the fact that the whole thing was slowly being overgrown by the climbing vines and reddish moss, but compared to the carnivorous plants with gapping mouths and bloodthirsty tree trunks, the solidity of the stone was an extremely welcome sight. More so because it seemed immune to the havoc that seemed to follow in their wake.

By the time they entered the clearing and left the demons of the forest beneath the scarlet tree tops, Victor was huffing and puffing, struggling to inhale the much needed air. There was a sharp pain just below his ribs, the kind that always occurred when he exerted himself in this manner; the gunman had stamina, only the kind that wasn’t in tune with the long runs. When it came to making a stand in a boxing ring, Victor Callahan could trudge around and take hits all night long. When it came to running marathons and jumping over hurdles, his energy was rapidly depleted and his current state depicted this perk of his rather well. With his back propped against one of the crumbling walls, his panicky hands worked almost automatically at reloading the revolver as his eyes peered at the last line of the trees for their ‘entourage’ to make an appearance.

“Well, that was fun,” the temporarily jaded boxer said in between his rapid inhales and exhales, checking the balance of the saddlebag on his shoulder and finding himself lucky that he didn’t drop it during the dash. Not that he had some notable positions within - mostly some rations, additional clothing, spare cartridges and other knickknacks – but given his current outfit and the pickle they were in, every little bit might be a difference between getting out of this alive and getting in the digestive tract of something horrible.

When none of the monsters from the forest followed them to the proximity of the ruins and Victor managed to stabilize his breathing enough no to feel like he was breathing out a lung, he holstered his gun and approached the only remaining sane member of their party. “So, is this what we’re looking for?” he asked, joining her in a gaze that traversed over what might’ve been a majestic edifice once. “And if not, could you tell me what it is? Just so I don’t overlook it by accident.”

He managed a mild smirk as he finished his sentence, taking over the van of the party from the traveler and stepping through the cracked archway. The room beyond it was as vast as it was empty, the supporting columns still remaining, but everything else seeming to deteriorate to the point where it was unrecognizable. The walls might’ve been covered with frescos and paintings and gold-weaved tapestries once, but not only the crimson stone remained, dull and uninviting. Where stained glass might’ve stood once, gaping openings peered out into the pale artificial darkness and the forest beyond.

But even as the entire party passed the arc and entered the oval room, a sonic wave exploded in the center of a room, a ball of invisible hot energy sweeping over them in a surge. Victor didn’t even have time to cover his eyes when he noticed that the phenomenon meant no direct harm to the four. Instead, the invisible wave passed over the walls of the building, transforming it as it went, bringing the former glory of the room in its wake. The tapestries, the chandeliers, the polished tiling with intricate motifs, they all came to existence almost as if a painter drew them in an instant, and suddenly they stood in a room with enough doors to make the pistoleer’s head swirl. So many options and no clues whatsoever.

“Oh, this just keeps getting better and better.”

[The Madd Hatter]

It was impossible, it truly was, that they were still alive. The full-unrequited wrath of the Red Forest had been flung at them in rage and somehow they had made it through, and none of them were dead. As Laura reached for her quiver, caution making her draw another arrow, she found that only one or two remained out of the fifty she had before leaving the clearing. Slowly her mind remembered unconsciously drawing and sending arrows into things that came into their path. So fast and uncontrolled had been their rush that the entire memory of it was blurred by adrenaline and anxiety. Without even knowledge of where they were going, they followed the route set by safety and found them here, strangely separated from the horrors of the forest by a ring of fog.

As Victor sat against the wall, panting, she stood in the clearing, as far from the building as she could manage without being near the fog, and stared. One impossibility simply stacked upon the next, and the feeling came back inside her. It had been a long time hunting in this forest since it had come, and now she knew without a doubt that it was encroaching upon her again. Without even thinking, she unstrung her bow and strapped it across her back. A hand darted quickly to the sheath at her thigh and removed the combat dagger there. Holding it in a reverse grip, she moved closer and touched the surface of the building.

“This place is so old. Victor, I think we may have found what I was looking for.”

She was glad that he could be at least a bit jesting, and returned his warm smile, her gaze connecting with his for but a moment. Something inside her tumbled, but it was only a moment, and she dragged her eyes away from his and inspected the building more. The crawling inside her was growing, the feeling become stronger and stronger by the moment, soon too powerful for her to bear and she took a step back, which only helped in a miniscule amount. As the others began to walk into the building, willing and ready to get out of the forest and into a safe haven, she remained in the clearing, watching with anxiety.

Suddenly a sharp pain jabbed at her gut, bringing her to her knees. At the same time, a wave of incredible heat and energy rolled over her, but her eyes were shoved closed and she could only feel the change in the thickness of the air, the smell of things, and the wind disappearing. The sounds of the forest behind her was muted as if a wall stood between her and it, and it wasn’t grass that comforted the Huntress’s legs, but soft carpeting. After the pain resided, taking only a few seconds, she opened her eyes and gasped audibly, surprised by both the release of agony and the beautiful building that had grown around her. The ruins had been restored to their former glory and now she was kneeling on the entry carpet way of some sort of foyer. Before her, where the arch had been, there was a massive set of silver engraved doors. Closed, she couldn’t see the rest of her party, except the Hatter who still stood, ever silent like a statue, by her side.

Either he wasn’t willing to comment, or he was as clueless as she was, but his mouth remained closed even when a side door opened and a man walked out. To describe him as a man was being lenient, however, for his body was off proportioned and long and lanky, with blue-scaled skin and crimson shining eyes. Despite the monstrous appearance, his face was instantly kind and he spoke with a polite and almost poetic accent.

“Laura, he will see you now. The Lord has been waiting in his chambers.”

Strangely, the man and his formal outfit fit perfectly in these grand surroundings, and when he turned aside and beckoned through the side door, Laura felt a tugging inside her and began moving before she understood what was happening. Next she knew she was walking through the gateway into a large office that ended in a swivel chair, turned so that the occupant was hidden.

Empty portraits, displaying only a white background, lined the walls. Each frame was a different size and shape, and the way they were placed and ordered almost seemed a form of art on its own, even if they held nothing. A massive pair of windows stood at the end of the room, the occupant of the chair obvious looking out through them into the forest. Yet, as she let her gaze fall on the windowpanes, nothing was visible outside them that resembled the red forest. Instead, she saw green and pink, colors unheard of in the cursed wood. Despite the lovely setting, the uneasy feeling inside her grew into a solid lump in her chest. This had only happened one time before, and even though his face couldn’t be seen, she knew exactly who sat in that chair.

It’s him. He’s here…and he knew I was coming…

This time…I might not live.