Blink once for disbelief, blink twice for doubt.... [PM for Invite]

[Stargrace]

Blink once for Disbelief, Blink twice for Doubt, Blink thrice and hold your Breath... the Madness, and Mayhem loiters about....

The good citizens of Zinn’Sunn ventured forth from their homes on the crisp but otherwise sunny brightening of the third cycle of Ponutis. On this particular Winter’s morning life continued in its same predictable pattern: merchants opened their businesses to the public; citizens walked the streets tending to errands; gossip was shared between neighbours and friends; washing was hung on the lines, chores were tended to; children laughed as they darted past adults with youthful liveliness lighting their little faces. It seemed like just another brightening, like the brightening before and the brightening that would follow.

How could the citizens of Zinn’Sunn be so wrong?

The first sign of oddity appeared in the form of a madwoman. Her anxious face looked about. She then peered into all the curious, if not alarmed, faces. Dena was known among the citizens, if not for her outlandish behaviour, than for her eccentric appearance. Dena possessed long frizzled red hair, a pale, almost pasty complexion hidden by immense proportions of freckles. Dena moved about with a hobble, at times her feet shuffled seeming almost off-balance as if she was gifted with two left feet. She had a child-like behaviour and seemed mostly harmless. Her clothing was made up from pieces of discarded rags of every colour under the sun. Dena was not seen lurking on streets often and especially not of late. She resided on the outskirts of Zinn’Sunn with her mother; a surprisingly sane woman who was well-gifted in herbals. This skill was put to use often to medicate, and often sedate, Dena. Attentive in her role as a mother, she protected Dena from all harm, unfortunately the biggest harm to Dena, was Dena herself.

Dena shuffled her feet as her light grey eyes moved through the gathering of people. She ignored the children as they looked up at her with fright before they hid their faces behind an adult’s back. Dena began to heavily breathe, her eyes grew larger. In a raspy tone she suddenly yelled out, “It’s coming, it’s coming, beware–“ Dena suddenly halted in her speech as her attention turned towards the buildings and the sky. She looked around the street, her eyes persistently, almost frantically, searching the atmosphere. A small gasp protruded from her lips. She looked back into the faces of the gathered people and in a whisper she exclaimed in a tone of finality. “It’s here –“

The gathered people looked around the street they knew so well. Against better judgement they could not help but see if her words held a string of truth. Some people looked at each other with a display of puzzlement or disturbance. Just a select few walked away, believing they had better things to do than listen to the sound of insanity. As the sun cast its faint light down upon Zinn’Sunn, everything seemed normal. More people left, some even gave a small laugh at their own temporary insanity for even acknowledging the words of a madwoman. Parent’s collected their children and ushered them inside, disapproval and anger were etched upon their faces as they gave one final glare at Dena. An uncomfortable silence resided where once the sound of business and speech murmured. Dena’s sudden scream erupted into the morning’s air disturbing the birds as they hastily took flight. Dena ran from the scene, stumbling at times as her dysfunctional feet tried to keep up with her. She occasionally looked over her shoulder, her eyes wide as if malevolence was at her heels.

As the first odd occurrence of the brightening became a distant reflection, normalcy returned to the Zinn’Sunn streets. But the weird occurrence was not at an end, in truth it had only just begun. To the people who had witnessed the madwoman’s ramblings, a new image of her would from that brightening on, stay prominent in their minds.

The events that shortly followed were of mayhem and chaos, tainted with the unfamiliar sour taste of madness. It took just a blink of the eye for the world around them to come tumbling down: With just a blink Zinn’Sunn appeared again in a morbidly different view; the innocent shadows of the buildings that lined the street seemed to take on a life of their own, like fierce animals they chased and they stalked. With another blink, the Zinn’Sunn everyone knew and loved had returned in its normal simplistic beauty, but with the next blink of the eye who could tell what would appear? It seemed as though insanity had become contagious. It seemed the only logical explanation that could be given to oneself. But this was not a logical normal brightening, selected citizens had awoken to a living nightmare...

And in the darkest corner of one’s mind, the faintest of whispers could be heard, high-pitched and full of overt glee.

“We’re here, we’re here, we’re here.”

[Fyleia]

Fyleia left The Ivory Tower dormitory that brightening with rosyun on her mind. The meals at her school's communal dining room were delicious and filling, but she yearned to see more of the city that she so rarely had time to explore. Classes took up much of her time, and she was eager to become more familiar with her new hometown.

When the odd woman passed her on the street, Fyl paid her little heed. She was clearly not of Kemite descent, but then again neither was Fyleia, so there was no reason to suspect anything strange at first glance. But first impressions could be misleading... Just as Fyleia passed Dena on the street, the madwoman began to yell. Fyl glanced back over her shoulder, but still ignored Dena. She had seen plenty driven mad by the heat of Arakmat; this was nothing new. Whatever Dena thought was here, it was no business of Fyleia's.

She went on with her brightening as usual. She ate a tasty meal at the Wolfmoon restaurant, then spent a few candlemarks walking up and down Zinn'Sunn's streets.

That was when the madness hit.

Suddenly, Fyleia looked all around her to see the buildings looming over her in malevolent, wobbling shapes. She blinked; was it just a mirage? Maybe she was tired, bloated from her meal. When she opened her eyes again, the buildings were back to normal. Good.

Then, the whispers.

Fyleia glanced about to look for whoever was whispering horrible nothings in her ear, but there was no one nearby. Those who saw her looking about for ghosts rushed their children away, muttering something about an abundance of madwomen on the streets this brightening.

Was she going mad? Why? Fyleia closed her eyes and curled up in a ball, leaning against a wall for support. She began to moan quietly, hoping to shut the other voices out with her own voice.

[Ronan Stoutfoot]

'Why yes, I am a real Cether... That term you used is rather... uhm rather disparaging. We quite prefer to be called Cethers.' The blond monk said to a small group of children. They had gathered around questioning him and his chosen profession. For Ronan was a Zinn'Sunn Monastery monk, barely more than an initiate. His shock of curly blond hair, and small frame sometimes did cause a stir. In the city of Zinn'Sunn it was fairly rare to run across another of his kind. In the past few eras there had only been one, and as far as he knew he was the first that was accepted into the Monastery.

It was a feat he was quite proud of, and when questioned he almost always offered a story. For the children were quite an amusement to him, as he was to them. As he was about to go into the story that brought him to the City of Song, there was a commotion, and the children ran off. It was as if a strange energy had passed through the block, and from across the plaza Ronan could see what it was. A group began to hover around a strange acting woman, and Ronan found himself moving forward.

From the smattering of the leaving people, Ronan gathered that this was a fairly expected happening from some. Others were put off, muttering that the crazy lady needed to be locked away. As he closed in, closer towards the inner circle he watched as the lady seemed quite mad, and disturbed. Those this close seemed to be worried, and made strange gestures with their hands as she raved.

Then she was gone, she had turned and fled. Ronan did not know why, only that she shouted, 'Its coming', and then 'Its here...' It made no sense to the young halfling, for him this was a strange new experience. Something that was becoming quite common place for the young monk. This city was a far cry from the Cether shire he was raised in, warrior monks, moving statues, and all sorts of other wondrous things.

He stroked the side of his head, finger getting tangled in the golden locks. Ronan was contemplating the scene and what had occurred. This would be a story he would have to recount for the SunnFather, to see if he could offer any insight. He turned to leave as others had, to return to his small abode in the monetary.

'We’re here, we’re here, we’re here.' There was a voice, to which he spun to find. The short young monk could not find the source, but yet he heard it plan as day. The words verberated in his mind, at the inner core. He knew not what to make of it, he gazed into the distance at where the crazed woman had ran. Did she have some disease? Could Ronan have caught it this quick?

He heard the voice again, and he repeated the spin. There was no one near that was speaking to him, and Ronan's face scrunched up in determination. There must be some explination, but there was a chill growin inside him that told him that there was something that could not be explained hapening to him...

Now for the first time in a long time, Ronan was becoming frightened.

[Stargrace]

Logic is an important condition of the human mind.
Some theorists believe that the difference between the sane and the insane lies in the ability to be able to logically explain, make sense of and rationalise reality.

Fyleia

Upon the vision of building’s appearing in a groundless, illogical fashion, the only thing Fyleia could try and do was apply logic to the situation. No building could act in such a manner, reality proved it could never be. The only logical answer was in Fyleia herself: Tired? Bloated? Had Fyleia come down with a mere physical illness? Yes that was a simple answer. It must be an illness that could be treatable, an illness that could be cured...It was an easy explanation to settle for because the alternative was much more disturbing and possessed far more serious implications.

Before Fyleia's mind could apply further logic to the situation the next blink occurred, clear vision had returned. Perhaps it was nothing...certainly nothing to worry or fear over? When agreement was made, the thought process of Fyleia’s mind moved on.

The next personal oddity of the brightening surfaced shortly after in the subtle but softly spoken sound of a whisper. Searching for someone else to blame, Fyleia looked about for the culprit; however, the only people that were close by did not appear to be the likely suspects. Parents and their children fled as fast as they could, leaving Fyleia with one word, ‘madwoman’ which lingered in her mind. On any other brightening, in any other situation she would have thought nothing of it.

But one could not easily ignore the recent occurrences. Could food, could tiredness corrupt one’s mind to this extent? It seemed a little too farfetched, a little too convenient to blame on a physical condition that had came to be so suddenly. This left just one logical answer. Did Fyleia dare to voice it, to admit even the mere possibility of insanity? Could madness happen so suddenly? The whispers continued seeming to get louder and more persistent until the whisper overpowered and drowned out the troubling thoughts.

As Fyleia curled into a ball, sinister golden eyes watched her from every direction. The sets of eyes were the colour of the sun at dusk, dying as darkness consumed the land. And just as that thought arose within Fyleia’s mind, darkness descended upon the Zinn’Sunn Street. Had the darkening truly arrived or was the darkness a reflection of Fyleia’s mentality relinquishing within her...

Rising panic, helplessness and despair took hold; seizing Fyleia as their smirks, unseen but nonetheless perceived, seemed to gloat in their victory. The image of Dena entered into Fyleia’s mind, her whisper was heard as if she was there repeating the earlier event. ‘It’s here.’ Over and over those words were heard. In the third repetition Dena’s words were repeated three times in one clause, 'It's here, it's here, it's here' and then high-pitched whispers added to the chorus. ‘We’re here, we’re here, we’re here.’


Ronan:

Logic in times of fright was the not easy to grasp. It was in the moments of terror, chaos and despair that logic was most needed, but the hardest thing to attain. Logic was the light in the darkness directing the way, helping to see the true answers and find the solution. The light could then be perceived as sanity...but in fright, one was temporarily left in the dark fumbling for reason. In these times, reasoned beings then turned to illogical answers that perhaps, deep inside themselves, they knew was not an accurate and true explanation. But it was all they had, the only answer that could be given...

As the young Monk desperately tried to find that sound reason, he looked for the owner of the high-pitched voice within the gathered crowd. Of the people who remained, none shared the look reflected upon Ronan’s face. None in fact, shared in the desperate search for the perpetrator of the foul whispers. Some looked in the direction of the madwoman, others had their attention turned to their fellow man, words were gathered and exchanged, but no one seemed at all alarmed; not even the look of disapproval could be seen anymore. Not one person close to the Monk had their attention on him. Not one person conveyed an expression of ill-humour or mischievousness as one would expect from such a cruel trickster.

As fright roused in force within the Monk, illogical questions was all that could be grasped as the possible reasons for the high-pitched whisper, its words were only a slight alteration from what had passed from the lips of the madwoman...Could the Monk have indeed caught her illness? Was Ronan hearing the exact whispers she had heard? The most worrying question then came into thought, breathing in air of despair and horror: Was he in fact losing a being’s most prized gift -- his sanity?

The high-pitched voice within Ronan’s mind chuckled with grotesque amusement the very instant Ronan’s thought came to light. As Ronan stood immobile, people passed him by. Most headed indoors deeming the buildings as the safest place to be. Most glanced one last time in the direction where Dena was last seen, running as far away as she could until she was out of sight.

Someone bumped into Ronan sending a forceful jolt through the Halfling. It was an indefinable feeling, born from a chilliness that made one tremble and accompanied by undertones of abhorrence. The person of ill-manner halted and turned to face Ronan. The person was but a child and it was in this moment the disturbance drew to a whole new level. Red eyes stared into Ronan’s face. In but a blink the child’s eyes had changed to a natural green but in the third blink the face that could only be explained as death – a body of decayed skin. In the places where the skin had been eaten away, the whitish colour of bones could be seen. The red eyes had returned. It stared unblinking, fixated upon the Halfling.

The high-pitched chuckle returned seeming to have grown in volume and density.

Fright quickly turned to blind panic.

[Telavis]

Telavis had been far from the scene of the activity. He had again gone to inspect the lot of land that he had suddenly received and compare the lay of the land with his still rough plans. As he walked through the streets of Zinn'Sunn, he could feel something out of the norm. There seemed to be unusual in the air. It might be the way people walked. People seemed to hurry more than normal. Suddenly, no one was stopping to chat any more.

As people hurried about Telavis, he felt distinctly alone. He knew his city long enough to realize that something had happened. But, he did not know this district and its people well enough for him to be included in their gossiping circles. He felt as if he was standing near a bee hive with all the bees aroused by something indistinct in the air. Without a clear target, they are left to buzz menacingly, but also aimlessly.

Telavis is torn by the dual instincts to move to safety and to find out the cause of the disturbance. After a moment of ambivalence, the later won out. Although he could not pin point the source of the disturbance, but the people seemed to be more aggitation from one direction of the road. Following the assumption that people would be more uneasy the closer they were at the epicenter of whatever caused the aggitation, Telavis started to head toward the source of it all.

[Dego Mernoff]

For it being just past mid winter, this particular day was outstandingly beautiful. The suns were shining overhead, and for the first time since his venture into the walls Zinn actually looked like a regular city to the half Esh. Dego had come in contact with many of the cities secrets over the past few cycles. Growing to know the city, growing to not only love but loath the mystery it held. On this particular brightening, the half elf had chosen one of the low slung roofs for a perch, having silently climbed atop it during the darkening candlemarks and sat quietly, patiently until the first of the suns rose over the distant horizon. City walls often provided a barrier to the natural majestic of nature, but atop the roofs of the buildings one could still catch a nearly unhindered view of the simple delight.

Having just taken his 30 candlemark slumber, the elf knew he would not need sleep for many more brigtenings, and since the man no longer slept at night, it was rather easy to slip about the city and find places to admire before the eyes of onlookers took notice. Below the day was taking on a life of its own as the second sun of Telath began to rise, cresting the horizon much like the first. People scurried about, merchants opened their doors, families and friends began to gather. Few looked up, because there was no need to, so no-one saw the pale figure, delicately pacing the tiled ceilings in silence thanks to his stealth training.

It was all a delightful and relaxing sight to the man, the world working just as it should. But then, as all things must, the story unfolded and took a sharp change of course. Shuffling down the street came a woman, obviously touched by the gods. Her ramblings were incoherent strings of gibberish, her eyes darting about searching for something more. It was sad at first, Dego’s heart went out to the woman, knowing her pain, to be cursed, mentally brutalized, and it was a twisted existence. He slowly took seat on the edge of the current roof he stood on, watching with interest as the citizens of the city tried to ignore her suffering. He studied; watching the reaction of events unfold like an alchemist would a new formula. His dull blue eyes barely flinching from the tortured soul and her surroundings as his acute hearing took in her words. Then as quickly as the occurrence started it was over, with a shrill scream and sent chills up the half breed’s spine, making his shutter in the cold morning wind ever so lightly. His eyes watched as she staggered away, terrified, pitied. “Ioanness, god of gods, give her peace and wisdom so her mind may find ease” His voice was little more then a whisper as the flowing tone gave prayer for the disturbed soul.

Then, just as his ponderings of the situation was complete, and the half human was about to rise, the world shifted around him in the blink of an eye. The shade of the streets below shifted and warped. Monsters made of darkness pulled from the shadows and lurked the streets like feral beast stalking prey. The man slowly rose up, adjusting his feet for a steady hold on the roof as his eyes darted about. His left hand fell to the rapier at his side, popping the blade from its snug home, making it accessible in less then a blink of the eye. Dego assessed the situation, just as he knew, panic never helped, no matter what, and the elf could see enough of the citizenry already plagued by illness and uncertainty.

His eyes did not fault, scanning carefully without the drop of a lid. One of the few benefits of his new curse, the eyes no longer needed the rest they once did. Shadows lurked but did not attack; it all came on in moments but was not aggressive. Perhaps they or rather we were under the spell of a mystic. Dego knew that power all to well, the House of whispers raping his mind over and over during the interrogations stripping him of a normal man’s fear. In this lifetime death was a welcome release to the suffering his life carried within and on his shoulders. Then finally just as he was about to drop to the city street below, a slow blink of the eye, and everything was normal.

“Gods help me…” Near silent words slipping from his lips once more. The man was not sure of what was happening but he intended to find out one way or another. Stepping from the low roof, the elf fell his height and landed with a dull thud, stepping out into the street, looking around at the citizens for any signs of foul play. Then, taking a step down the path a whisper appeared in the back of his mind, not the voice of his Raslin Diligence no this was something else, something not welcome. It made him grit his teeth as the jubilant voices tried to mock his sanity. Aggravation filled his tone as he spoke in a soft growl. “Demon or Mystic, it matters not. I am a child of the god of gods, I speak Ioanness’s will, remove yourself from my mind; you do not wish to meet the darkness that lurks in this soul.” Visions and voices did not bother this roaming soul, he had faced them and much worse many times before, and at glance there was no sign of origin, for now all he could do was help those who had not suffered this kind of fear before.

His mind at peace, linked to the mind of his fierce Raslin and using that ancient magic as a foundation for his iron will Dego stalked the streets in silence. Even his boots were without noise as he lurked in the shadows of Zinn. These beasts, be all around him or not were no match for the fear he had been given by his former masters, men more twisted then even the most sadistic of fools could dream of, he would not be swayed so easily by simple spells. He stalked the roads until crossing someone less fortunate then himself.

[Fyleia]

No, Fyleia thought, people didn't just go mad in the blink of an eye. It took eras of grief, depression, torture to drive someone insane. Fyleia was in good health, fairly happy as far as people went, and in general was really not the sort of person who would suddenly go mad.

But she couldn't ban the voices from her head. They whispered incessantly, repeating that hateful phrase in the depths of Fyleia's mind. She couldn't distract herself from them or push them out with thoughts or sounds of her own. Fyleia clutched at her hair, pulling with frustration and grinding her teeth. The terrible golden eyes were the only thing Fyleia could seem to see. Everyone else was gone, encouraged to leave by her moaning and strange actions.

What was she going to do? Would she have to be admitted to an asylum, never to become a Swordsinger and make something of her life? Would they test her with magic and sharp instruments, opening her up to look for the cause? Would she ever return to normal, once again become the mistress of her own mind? And who or what had caused this terrible insanity, and why did it have to happen to her?

"Help..." she said softly, willing anyone to see her or hear her and take her words to heart. "Please help me..."

[Su Farong]

Su Farong was a man afraid of little upon Telath, but even he was getting a bit worried. A bead of sweat dropped off his brow as he held his dagger tightly, his arm wound in case he needed to strike. Crazy people he was used to, after all he spent his life within the Zinn'Sunn slums and had seen his fair share of insanity. His mother in fact was known to be a bit kooky, especially with her belly full of booze and her hand gripping a cleaver.

Oh, fond childhood memories...

So the woman bemused him, but the morbid paradigm shift alarmed him. It was as if a darkness blanketed his fair city, elongating shadows and painted the streets with a dangerous hue.

But the whispers made him take a big, nervous gulp. His arm flew within his jacket and he drew his dagger for protection. Each step echoed through the streets as he looked for either a way out or a bar. An awful thirst for an ale developed within.

He staggered down another street as he struggled to hold on to what amounted to a sound state of mind. So much he wanted to scream, but what good would that do?

Su Farong took a deep breath and his vision focused. He saw Fyleia curled in her ball and pleading for help. For once his thoughts were not malicious nor opportunistic. He staggered forward and shook her.

"Get up and get it together!" He nervously shouted. This whole episode was a serious downer and had him on edge. "I can help you only as much as you help yourself!" He waited her response as he looked up and down the street.

[Stargrace]

Of the wise and educated administers, some have stated that all beings upon birth inherit a gift given by the divine powers and passed on to each and every living soul. It is a force within in its own right, a motivational and driven urge sounded by need and necessity.

Most importantly, this gift passed on through the ages, defines a living soul from one being to the next. How the beinguses their gift reveals the being’s true nature, their behaviour and traits of character. From the weak to the strong, from heroes to villains, from the mentally inclined to the mad...instincts drive the individual...in an attempt to prolong life.

Telavis:

Dena‘s eyes roamed the gathered people. Dena searched for some sort of sign of understanding, but what she sought for the most was belief. Instead the madwoman received only cold disdain, distrust and hostility. But what more could she possibly have expected? Dena knew better than anyone the extent of her madness and even she shared many of the same sentiments they cast upon her.

Dena awoke that brightening with a clear mind and sense of clarity. For the era’s of her madness, Dena had struggled to keep her head above water as the flood of incoherence and psychosis dominated and oppressed her essence. It left her with just a bitter ghost of whom she once was which floated around with the other muddled images in her mind. Of those muddled images, what had become the most prominent in her mind were the images of inconceivable horror rampaging Zinn’Sunn; but most of all, revelations revealed people of Zinn’Sunn becoming haunted and plagued in a similar, if not worse, manner to the madness that has overtaken her own mind.

In this time of clarity, Dena knew she had to try to warn the Zinn’Sunn people before the chaos arrived. As the sense of foreboding intensified within her; Instinctively Dena knew her sanity would not be around for long and therefore she had to act, she had to warn...

As Dena walked upon the Zinn’Sunn streets insanity began to crawl back to claim her again. As Dena began to hear whispers Dena realised she was too late.... She blocked out it’s words with her own voice “It’s coming, it’s coming – beware.” She stopped and stared. Her eyes flittered about seeing a shadow cross the sky like an unwanted cloud burdening the land with a heavy attack of rain. The shadow was unnoticed by all the gathered people, too busy were they judging the madwoman as they willed her away preferably locked up with shackles and chains. But only she of madness could blatantly see what this horror truly was.

Dena could clearly see them hovering in the air taking their time selecting the best candidates; To the people her ramblings seemed coated with madness, as were her last words spoken, and her words spoken before that. But unlike the last occasions, this time she spoke with logic on her side, her words were articulated with the sanest mind amongst them all. But Dena knew time and belief was not on her side. Dena did the only thing she could do, give the people one final warning with the hope it would bring later understanding to them when their minds fell apart from what was so familiar to Dena herself.

Her eyes returned to the people, to fall upon Telavis. Instinctively she knew out of all the gathered people, he might be the one to understand...Her grey eyes locked onto his, silently her eyes spoke of the inherent horror lingering in the air. The presence she felt morphed into odd shapes and shadows, before resembling forms. Dena watched as it appeared above Telavis; black hands of darkness reached out...

Out of instinct, Dena moved closer to Telavis and touched his hand...the mental images that inhabited her insane mind unexplainably appeared within Telavis’ head; one image after another, gone in the blink of the eye to be replaced with an additional image, one horror on top of one horror more. What would he do with this information? What could he do?
Dena voiced her final statement to the gathered people, her eyes never leaving Telavis, “It’s here”
The shadowed hand of abyss had made its selection and now wanted to sample, to feast; with deliberance it made contact. His reality withered away.

Dena took a step back in shock. Her temporary sanity told her to run and so she fled.

When Dena was far from sight; insanity, her master, returned in full force to take control again of its slave.



Dego:

Of all the gathered people upon the Zinn’Sunn Street, only one person noticed the half Elf/Human perched upon the roof. When the madwoman looked to the buildings and then to the sky her grey eyes seemed to breeze past him as if unnoticed; however, in her temporary state of true judgement and sense, Dena acknowledged his presence with but a blink of the eye before her gaze travelled on. Of all the gathered people, Dego was the only one who revealed an improvement in judgement. At any other time she would have taken the opportunity to analyse him, after all, people like him were rare.

The madwoman was not the only one to notice Dego however, nor that of his rarity. Indigo eyes shrouded in darkness attentively watched him. Blood red lips pressed together as indulgent thoughts dawned. One thought reigned in the mind of chaos. Without notice, she voiced it into the air. “He is the one.”

Without delay darkness descended upon the half Elf. Uninvited company invaded the most private of sanctuaries a being owned. Persistent touches intruded every depth and each space within that they could find. Each invasive touch brought scolding heat. The pain lasted long excruciating moments after the touch had ended to then fade into a deep Winter’s chill. The intruders’ presence was enough to leave the strongest of Men whimpering in need of their mothers comfort; if this proved not to be the case for any they hand picked for sampling, these fiends were more than willing to take their time and accommodate. One did not know, could not know, exactly what the trespassers were but one could not doubt their black desires and their heartless ambitions. They entered the half Elf’s mind effortlessly and lavishly they stayed waiting, watching, taunting his mind with the taste of insanity and yet they held back. They could feel his inner strength and they could not deny the challenge. They made themselves comfortable as one would when in one's home. They whispered words that were incomprehensible, yet the connotation of the words was clearly understood: they wished him to beg for the relief madness would bring.

The chatter died away when the half Elf spoke. Hushed chatter responded before a thunderous tone took charge. “But that is just what we have come for...” The whisperer’s softly voiced their agreement. A high-pitched tone added in accordance, “Tasty, tasty, tasty.” Laughter filled the packed room causing Dego’s temples to throb. Yet surprisingly the headache did not last long, a soft carress soothed the throb until it had minimised before disappearing. “What else have you got on offer?” The thunderous tone casually asked.

For the first time since the intruders entered Dego’s mind, the blessed sound of silence held sway. They watched and travelled with the half Elf as he determinedly set out on a hero’s task. The half Elf came up to the first being. A lone female stood with her hands covering her pale face; faint sobs could be heard as one came close. It was in this moment the company within his mind suddenly vanished leaving the promise of return to linger in his thoughts.

And upon their return, they solemnly promised the half Elf; hell would be given and sanity would be taken in return.

[Stargrace]

What is perceived is that of a person’s reality. When our perceptions of the world does not make any sense, one can only try and pick up the pieces and find aid in one form or another to turn a senseless world back around.
But when sanity is on the brink of extinction, who can you rightfully perceive to be a friend or even that of a foe? How can one trust anyone if they cannot even trust them self?

Su:

People hurriedly moved in all directions; so frantic were they to get away. A number of accidents had already taken place so soon after the Manwoman's words; in a matter of mere moments, all in the blink of one's eye. Many could not live in such turmoil, as their sanity was reaped from their minds, life seemed like a small price to pay when hope was abandoned for dark demise. Many of the good citizens were waiting at death’s door. Others however, chose flight as their course of action. People pushed and shoved past in the haste to move as far away from the sight as one possibly could get; others walked with no apparent direction in mind, their eyes seemed empty...indeed their minds had shut down.

The noise on the streets was from the voice of Chaos. Some yelled while others screamed. In one direction glass was smashed, in other directions sobs, pleas or whimpers reached one's ears. As the Kermite passed them by occasional hands reached out...pleading for release, oh sweet, gratifying release.

As one's gaze passed over the surroundings, one could observe citizens lying on the side of the street moaning as blood dripped from fatal wounds. One blink...the scene was still the same voiceless horror. Shutting the eyes tight bidding reality to return did nothing. Upon the eyes opening again the same demonic scene unfolded leaving not a doubt the reality of what was perceived. The darkness lurked in the corners of the Kermite’s mind. Whispers continued their haunt, the same words repeatedly running through the Kermite’s brain at a high speed ramble. “We’re coming, we’re coming” “We’re here, we’re here.”

As Su staggered through the streets with his dagger in hand, a Man stepped out in front of him blocking the Kermite's way. He had a familiar face, a face of someone he had met and spoken with before but in this time of chaos the name just could not come to mind.... The man’s eyes flickered down to Su’s hand that held the dagger at the ready. A grin revealed itself upon his face; a look of encumbrance glowed within his dark brown eyes. It was obvious what he wanted from Su. “Give me the knife Su - Quick.” He said in a deep voice filled with anger. Hearing his name being said, Su realised he obviously did know this man somehow, yet the memory and information of the man would not enter into Su’s thoughts.

In but a blink of the eye the man stumbled closer to Su; his hand reached out for the dagger. Su’s mind seemed to darken completely in that moment.... Su knew what he had to do. But what more, emotions rampaged through him, fuelled on a dark need and an insistent request he felt pleasure to fulfil. With the dagger gripped tightly in hand with no hesitation or thought, Su plunged th dagger into the man’s stomach with an unusual strength. Su moved the dagger deeper before moving the weapon with the man' stomach in a diagonal line before changing directions and manoeuvring the dagger in the opposite direction. Finally Su pulled the dagger out.

The dead body fell to the ground. As Su’s eyes looked down at the corpse the bloody X brought forth unimaginable emotions fuelled by the sight: satisfaction, deep morbid pleasure, ecstasy, desire fulfilled...

The corpse had been marked for death and to there his spirit fled. But in life the person has been marked for the dark shadow of malevolence. Su had been the calligrapher, the hand of actrion, the slave, to carry out the deed.

Su blinked and sense returned. Su looked first to the blood coated dagger, to then look at his blood soaked hand and shirt. His eyes finally fell to the dead body lying before him on the ground. Su suddenly realised who the person was...how could he have not noticed him before?

Su stumbled away stricken with horror and disbelief. On to the next street, the Kermite staggered. The bloody mental images of the recent memory went over and over in his mind while his eyes fell upon a female curled up in a ball. Su heard her words crying for help. He moved closer to her and spoke.


Fyleia:

Fyleia’s head lifted from her hands as she looked up as the Kermite male approached her. He looked shaken, but that was to be expected under the recent events... Fyleia’s gaze drew down to his blood soaked shirt that clung to his skin. The smell of it reached her nose.

Fyleia blinked as she heard his yelled words. She found that she had to concentrate all her effort to be able to make sense of what was happening in reality. The whispers within her mind quietened as if they were giving her the space to contemplate the situation. Fyleia knew however, whatever this thing was, it defiantly was not considerate. She was thankful, nevertheless, for the simplistic and beautiful sound of silence. She focused her attention.

“I can only harm you as much as you harm yourself.” Fyleia blinked again, unsure if she had heard his words correctly....

Her eyes travelled from Su’s shirt to his face and his eyes. Two different stories spoke to the Female. He was shaken, almost inconsolable but she could see a string of kindness residing there. Was he a friend? Could Fyleia place her trust in this Kermite man? Her gaze returned to his shirt and then to his hand that was painted in dry blood. The full force of the smell hit her nostrils again. It was as plain as day that the blood was not his own, the ocean of blood that coated his clothing and skin spoke of the fatal injury he caused in another person. Could she be his next vicitim?

The whispers returned repeating his words through her mind. Terror rose and consumed.

Silently the whisperers laughed....

__________

They had been waiting for this event for such a long time. It was a feast of delight, they relished in what they had been in hunger of for what seemed like an eternity...chaos, emotions, sanity, life...they feasted upon it all.

But they also had a distinct job to do....

Their master waited.

[Ronan Stoutfoot]

What was going on? Was The whole of Telath being flipped upside down? For you Ronan it was, he missed looked and searched for a reason and failed. it was as if the gods had decided to play a joke on the woman, and now the cether. He tried to shake the voices out of his head, his fingers poked into his ears trying to stop the sound.

Then he fell to his knees, from a rough push from behind. The small cehter jumped up quickly, stunned from the sounds in his head, and the bump that caused him to tumble. Ronan was searching for who caused him to fall, and saw a child turn eye glowing red in as the suns glared overhead. This time Ronan fell backwards himself, but stopped before he fell to his rear.

The cether's eyes blinked once, and the eyes turned a green natural colour. Then once more he blinked, and found thathe saw strieght into the eyes of death. The rotted corpse of a child was before him, his skeleton grin staring hard, with those same red eyes. The child was grinning and the voice began to laugh once agian, louder and heartier...

And even with the training he recieved within the high walls of the Sunn Monastery, he was not prepared to face this. He was confuseed, and honestly scared. Never had he seen death, this close. Even after the Orc raid on his shire, he only saw the dead orc bodies from a planted corn field away. As he was a healer, he worked to save this from happening to prople.

But there was nothing he could do, but run... No running would leave this creature to attack otehrs. He had to warm them, his small voice lifted and he shouted.

'RUN, Run...' his voice paniced. He turned and tugged on the tall people, and pointed at the child whom was dead. He wanted them to see he wanted them to know what walked amoung them. He stumbled backwards, wondering if they saw. IF they were goin to run, or to just do somthing.

'Dont you see him... Dont you see IT!!!' Then he puased looking around dumbly... was he mad? Did he and Dena now share strange visions?