Run By: Dokuganryu (3xp)

Players: Azami, Sun-Shattered Tyrant

Synopsis: A kindly ghost offers to aid Azami and Tyrant...but it turns out to be a horrible, horrible mistake...

 

 

 

 

 

Stygia. Capitol of the Underworld, the Sinking City Atop The Heartless Void. Here do the dead elite play their endless passion plays, dancing to music lost for the sake of their own...sanities? Perhaps. Perhaps it is merely the selfish madness of death that consumes them as they go about their business, clad in their alien fashions, playing their games of love and lust and betrayal over and over and over until nothing remains but the emotions. This place is a hell of shifting chaos planned carefully ages in advance, a place where mortals would fear to tred if they even realized it existed beyond vague whispers of things in the night they would rather not accept or believe in, tucking their heads beneath their pillows.

A shopkeep with wares so old they no longer exist in the real world waves his cane at passerbys, shouting in a dialect of Old Realm so dead it's practically its own ghost. His ghostly cart gives a wail as the moliated spirit within it is nudged by the shopkeep briefly for effect, catching the attention of none of the passerbys even slightly.

 

 

A woman pauses in the traffic of passers-by, hearing the cries of the spirit in its dirty cart. Among all those faceless ghosts she is not immediately noticable... untill she turns her head.

A bone mask hides the upper half of her face from view. Eyeless, featureless, it is polished to smooth perfection, fairly glowing under her charcoal hood. The full lips below it tug into a thoughtful frown. She steps toward the cart, appearing out of the crowds without fanfare to put a pale porcelain hand upon the cart. "Do stop prodding it master ghost."

 

 

How in Malfeas did he get here? The Tyrant stands, puzzled with himself, a map held open with one hand while the other goes to scratch at his head. Not a couple of hours ago, he was on a boat on what felt like the second-longest journey of his life. And then... Poof. No disembarkation, no reception, no girls in scantily clad outfits to parade themselves before his vessel- nothing. He just sort of appeared here. Alone. In the middle of a busy thoroughfare, where he managed to, earlier, procure a map. At least he has a map, now- he can get home if he needs to- but still. Wasn't there supposed to be bloodletting? Mao sighs, folding the parchment to stow in his pants pocket. Well, while he's here, he may as well see the sights.

...And then that bloody -screaming- again. EVERYTHING. SCREAMS. HERE. It's like the underworld is where Creation was stashing its bad, all-male song-and-dance groups for the good of all who still live. Mao makes his way to the source, visibly twitching an eye. He crosses his arms formidibly and rests against one leg, "Hey, can't you keep that thing quiet, buddy?"

Sun-Shattering Tyrant sincerely doubts the merchant would understand. Mao certainly fails to understand HIM.

 

 

The shopkeep looks up, but he has no face. Skin moves over a mouth long-since moliated away, replying to both of them with an annoyed-sounding statement of the unusual language before turning and wheeling his cart away, the wheels screaming in pain with every motion. Indeed, everything seems to scream.

"My," someone says after a moment from behind the pair, "What have we here here here here here here here? A pair of Livelies from up top harassing a merchant in the City of the Dead? You're either brave or stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid."

 

 

"No," the Infernal snaps, turning about on his heel "I just happen to have a splitting headache. And I'm lost. Who are you again?"

 

 

Winter Rose looks up, first at the stranger who approaches the cart, then in the direction of the voice. Gazing through the eyeless mask, she cants her head inquisitively, though she doesn't speak again.

 

 

The ghost speaking is certainly an odd-looking fellow. With a face resembling nothing so strongly as a toad stretched into human form, elongated, sticky-looking fingers curled around a cane topped with a frog's head, and a large, ratty top hat rounding out an old-style gentleman's ensemble buttoned sharply to the waist, he may be no odder than the faceless ghost, but he's certainly...unusual nonetheless. "My my my my my my my my my my my my my." He repeats, as though he were a song repeating the same chord ad infinitum, "My my my my my my." The ghost settles his cane back on the ground, the frog's head giving a croak as he leans forward. "My my." Nothing else is offered as the huge frog eyes blink at the pair with odd, asynchronous motions. "Lost in Stygia are you? How dangerous, dangerous, dangerous that is."

 

 

"Yeah, well," Mao sighs at the strange, strange toad, "You don't have to tell me that. It's not my fault, either!" He flings his hands in the air, frustrated, "And besides that, I'm lost in the most depressing city on creation! So, you wouldn't happen to know how to get the hell outta here, do you?"

 

 

"No no no no no no no!" The toad corrects, whapping at the air beside Mao with his cane; the cane bends and snaps like a whip, a 'crack' echoing through the streets. No one seems to care. "Not Creation, not Creation, not Creation. The Underworld! The Underworld!" He sets both hands over the frog-head. "You're in the Underworld, dear friend, dear, dear friend. And leaving Stygia is easy," he adds, a gleam in his big frog eye, "If you're lucky."

 

 

"Fine. Underworld. Define lucky for me, now?" Infernals of Malfeas are infamous for their temper. Mao is no exception, and being whipped at doesn't help at all.

 

 

"Depends depends depends," The toad croaks, "Do you want the good way or the bad way or the not-so-anything way?"

 

 

Sun-Shattering Tyrant rubs at a temple, "...Uh. What? Any way would be great."

 

 

"Out out out is a strong strong strong word," the gentletoad replies merrily. "You could jump in the Void and go away away away, or you could search for one of the lands of shadows - but I warn you warn you warn you, Stygia hasn't got even a one!"

 

 

"I'm not lost," Aza says, her pleasantly rough voice quiet. "Who are you?" Dressed in subdued, desaturated tones of charcoals and deep plums, she lifts her hands to the leather strap of her Ruan-case where it crosses her chest. Her white hands are very nearly swallowed by the huge, thick sleeves, fingers just peeking out. A moonsilk curl has escaped her hood to lay startlingly bright on the breast of her mantle, making her perhaps seem a little too monochromatic.

 

 

"I? I? I I I I I I am the fabulous extravagant masterful artistic incredible Mister Toad." The toad gives a deep bow, "And you my lady my lady my lady?" Mister Toad straightens and croaks at her.

 

 

Winter Rose can't help but smile a little at that. The odd affectation is somewhere between oddly charming and like something out of a opera. Her lips curve up a little at the corners, causing her to raise her hand to cover it. "It is a good day to meet you, Mizhter Toad," she says, her accent slipping in more with her distracted thoughts. "Are you looking for lost people to lead astray? What a disreputable business."

 

 

"You wound me, lady, lady, lady!" Toad clasps a hand over his chest, draping another arm in a friendly manner over her shoulder - assuming she doesn't shy away, his touch is as chill as the grave. "I am no fan of Livelies true, but I'd never astray something lovely as you!" Mister Toad ribbits a little laugh, "No no no no no no, Mister Toad does not do such things! Mister Toad is a tamer of things untamed and a shaper of things unshaped, he is he is he is." He taps his cane (gently) on her thigh. "Such falsehoods in Stygia could be mistaken for truth, and then Mister Toad, he would be an ashtray ashtray ashtray! So watch, watch, watch, watch, watch what you say!" The toad gives another ribbiting, croak-filled laugh.

 

 

"What does that mean?" Aza stands the contact for as long as she can, but soon steps politely away. Seems she doesn't like to be touched. "Are you a Moliator then?"

 

 

"Mister Toad is a gentletoad gentletoad gentletoad," he replies happily, rapping his shoulderblade with his own cane, "Moliator, Ghost Tamer, ghost of many specialties! What is it you require on this lovely Setesh day day day?"

 

 

Winter Rose blinks (though with her mask this is not of course obvious), and looks very seriously at the frog-man's face. "You know so many arts, Mizter Toad? How long have you been in Underworld?"

 

 

Toad tips his hat. "For a thousand years or more my dear, a thousand years or more my dear, my dear my dear my dear," he offers, flipping his hat back onto his head, "For all the time in the world and all the beats of hearts, for as long as Man has walked the Earth. Whoever in their wisdom can say? Not I, not I, not I, not I."

 

 

"I admit I do not know many of ghost-arts," Aza admits with some embarrassment. "It sounds like you have been here forever." She reaches up and idylly taps at her eyeless mask with a finger. "Are you sure you do not work for Monarchy here?"

 

 

"Let us say instead of Monarchy that Mister Toad is a free ghost, he is, he is, he is he is he is, and that he sells his services to any who pay well enough to afford him!" Toad trils a bit, tapping his cane on the ground. "Does that put you at easy, my Lovely Lovely Lovely Lively Lively Lively?"

 

 

"Well," Aza says, and tips up her mask so that it rests atop the white crown of her hair like a festival mask, blinking in the rush of disparate light and motion to her eyes. She looks at Mr. Toad curiously. "I am maybe... just a -little- bit lost. Not a lot lost!" she adds. "But a little."

 

 

"A little lost my little Lovely Lively Lively?" Toad chirps, clapping his squishy palms together, "So does my lovely lively lively need a lovely lifeless lift through the city? Mister Toad would be happy to provide...if the Lovely Lively would provide him him him him him him him him him him him him him him him a little service, of course of course of course."

 

 

"What would you want?" Aza asks curiously, feeling a bit dizzy with all the repetition.

 

 

"Oh, not much, not much, not much, my lively lovely lively," Toad purrs, friendly-like, "Toad is a ghost with much in his ghostness, with much power and wealth and many many friends. Toad would simply like just one favor from the lovely lively lively." Mister Toad taps his cane on the ground, sinking to one knee and removing his hat to press it against his chest. His huge, froggy eyes blink at her once. "Will the lovely lively lively be Toad's lovely Lively friend?"

 

 

Winter Rose stares. "Um..." Fidgeting, she glances to either side. Several ghosts have stopped to watch this interesting bit of street theatre. "Er, ah-- s-sure, mizhter Toad, I will be your friend, just please stand up!" She leans down and plucks lightly at his shoulders to urge him back to his feet, supremely discomfited by the kneeling. Seeing the tops of people's heads! Unnattural!

 

 

She might swear that the Toad smirked, maybe. It's impossible to tell if he's smirking or not, with no lips nor teeth nor anything else, but there's -something- about Toad's face that's a bit odd. Toad stands, snapping his fingers. "Mister Toad demands demands demands his cart! Bring it for his new Lovely Lively Lovely Lively Lovely Lively Friend, he says!" And so, as the Toad echoes, so do they come - domesticated hungry ghosts, moliated to a carriage by chains of their own form, roll through the crowd, stopping by Toad and Winter Rose. Toad opens the carriage door and sweeps his hand to the side. "Now then, my lovely lively friend, allow Mister Toad the honor honor honor of being your guide to Stygia, City of the Dead of the Dead of the Dead dead dead dead dead!" He does not enter yet - apparently, Toad is a true...gentletoad.

 

 

And she was bothered by the cart earlier! Aza tries to keep the dismay from her face as she sees the hungry ghosts all bound together and moliated in such a fashion. Swallowing, she quietly reaches up to the edge of her hood, holding it in place as she gingerly ascends into the grisly carriage.

"Why do you build a cart from hungry ghosts?" she asks as she takes a seat within, looking at Mister Toad inquisitively.

 

 

Toad offers his hand to help her if she chooses, or not; once she's entered the carriage, Toad hops in himself, closing the door behind him. "Now then!" Toad chirps, waving his hat at a nonexistant driver, "Onwards, my good dead dead dead dead dead!" The hungry ghosts begin pulling the cart, the windows scrolling through the streets of Stygia at an impressive pace - a horse's gallop. "Oh, no no no no!" Toad gasps, pressing his hand against his chest, "This cart is not made of ghosts no no! Merely pulled by them! Trained, trained, quite strongly trained trained trained!"

 

 

"How do you train Hungry Ghosts? I thought they were completely feral." This at least is something Aza is genuinely curious about, albiet horrified by. "They are not -truly- animals, are they?"

 

 

"Oh, Mister Toad, he has his ways, his ways, his ways," The Gentletoad ribbits, "Tell me, my Lovely Lively, do you have your ways? Your ways about you Toad thinks you have you have you have, and Toad is very very curious what ways you may possess." He tilts his head at Azami, blinking those huge froggy eyes at her as he dips into his pocket, prying forth an odd device (a pockwatch, of course) and checking the time (according to Setesh), then what appears to be a snuffbox full of...dead flies. Toad lifts one up between his fingers, a long tongue flicking out, and consumes the thing in the blink of an eye before tucking it into his coat. "Eeeexquisite," Toad sighs.

 

 

After a while- a long while, it seemed- in silence, the Infernal begins to stir once more. It was like he was stuck in a daze. A voice in his head cackles wickedly at the other conciousness, as if to say 'It's your mess, now!' Mao only groans in response.

 

 

"Well," Winter Rose says, looking prudently away as the frogman's tongue whips out and draws the dead fly into his mouth. Aza has never been fond of bugs and other crawly things. She sits on the edge of the cusion seat with her hands folded upon her knees. "If you need to know; I am the best cook in Creation." And that appears to be that.

 

 

The carriage comes to a halt, and the door swings open for the pair of livelies and the dead toad - it's very, very, very dark. Probably inside. "Your way out, my Lovely Livelies!" Toad chirrups happily, "Thank you...for being Toad's friends, friends, friends..."

 

 

At least it's somewhere. The Infernal shifts uncomfortably in his seat before moving to exit the carriage, "Uh, no problem, I guess. So where are we, buddy? Some kind of castle or something?" Ah, castle. That word brings so much- the urge to CONQUER AND DESTROY first and foremost, but that sort of thing, not being prudent at the moment, is promptly pushed to the back of his mind.

 

 

Winter Rose steps down out of the carriage behind the other living being, having to hop the last few inches or so. Her skirts fall down about her booted ankles as she steps forward into the dark, looking about curiously. "Where are we?"

 

 

Toad laughs, but it's not the whimsical laugh of the nobleman - rather, it's darker, shiftier, and altogether more evil, echoing through the room. His voice, too, has shifted entirely as he leans out the carriage. "Welcome to my playground, lovelies," Toad murmurs sinisterly as the carriage kicks into double-time; his hand on his hat, the carriage rides away into the darkness.

 

 

Sun-Shattering Tyrant says, "Right, well."

Unnerving though it is, Mao's been to hell. Hell has Lilun. NOTHING can get more unnerving than Lilun, but still, "I'm sure we'll have quite a bit of fun, eh?" He cracks his knuckles in the palms of his hands, "So, I suppose we're going to have to play around a bit, won't we?"

 

 

"So!" The infernal turns to his newfound partner in crime, "Who might you be, Best-Cook-In-Creation?"

 

 

Winter Rose puts her hands on her hips and hrmphs! "Never trust a frog!" She shouts after the escaping carriage with turned back ears, then looks up at Tyrant. With her mask up atop her head, its -still- dark. Well, she's used to walking around unable to see, really. "I guess you are right, mister. Er--" she extends her hand as she's seen many people in the east do. "Winter Rose. Who are you? Are you a necromancer? Only it is very dark in here, isn't it?"

 

 

Sun-Shattering Tyrant blinks, then, taking the girl's hand in a tight hand, begins guffawing into the darkness, "Me? A necromancer? Hell no, miss. I'm just a wandering God of War. The name's Mao, God of War. It's a pleasure to meet a chef. Maybe when we get outta here, I can try one of your dishes. How about you, besides being a chef and blessed with a beautiful body, what are you?"

 

 

Winter Rose's hand is quite cold. Not icy-- though when Tyrant makes the crack about her appearance there is a rather distinct -SNAP!- of freezing static, just enough to really smart. "I'm an Icewalker," she answers. "Nice to meet you. Do you have a match? I have a lantern--"

 

 

At the crack of static, he swiftly withdraws his hand, stil chuckling sheepishly, "Well, I don't really

carry a match, but I figure I could light things up a bit, yeah."

There's a couple of moments of awkward silence as the Exalt takes in a sharp breath of air and begins emitting a bright, sickly green light. That should be enough, hopefully, to cast away the darkness surrounding them, at least for now.

 

 

An Infernal! Aza smiles wrily. It figures. Down in the depths of Stygia, the little buggers still show up. "Thank you," she says. "That is a good trick--" that said, she looks around curiously, putting away her small lantern.

 

 

One might suddenly wish they hadn't.

'Mister Toad's Playground' seems to be a charnel house. Except, instead of dead corpses everywhere, there are live ghosts...moliated into the very walls...the ground...the ceiling. Everywhere is a face, everything, every single little detail has a ghost's face on it. The sickly green light seems to disturb them, and as one, the ghostly faces wail loudly, angrily, as though the light violated their right to darkness.

 

 

Sun-Shattering Tyrant says, "Yeah, well, don't worry." The Infernal tosses her a thumbs-up and a cheerful grin, "I'm not going to hurt y-GNAAAH The screams!" He stuffs his hands about his ears as the walls begin to wail, "-DAMNIT- everything down here is so damn loud!"

 

 

Winter Rose winces, covering her ears instinctually in startlement. "Oh! Frozen gods! Look at all of them!" Recovering, she shakes her head and gazes about in horrified fascination. "He's moliated them into walls! So many of them too! Oh poor things..." She turns. "Mao! Are you alright? Dim a little, maybe they will be quieter?"

 

 

"Or we could just punch 'em nice and quiet!" he half-yells, over the clamor of the room, "I'll try to dim it, but it's harder to keep down than to keep up!" Just like that, the aura fades ever so slightly, "I swear, I'm breaking that frog when we find him again."

Sun-Shattering Tyrant says, "So what happened to those ghost guys anyway? Why're they in walls? I'm not good with ghosts, you know?""

 

 

Winter Rose reaches out and puts her hand on one of the walls, between the screaming faces. The heavy fabric of her sleeve falls away a little and the soulsteel of the tattoos swirling on the back of her hand flares subtly. "They've been moliated. Shaped, yes? Like... like clay. Cruel necromancers will shape ghosts into things that suit them. Chairs, chains, walls, swords... anything."

 

 

Indeed, everything in the room - including the table, the chair - seems to have faces. More than one person is moliated into each object, lending each object its own, strange symphonic scream-set.

 

 

Sun-Shattering Tyrant says, "If we can't pull them out, then we should probably put them out of their misery." It's not all that they were giving him a headache the size of Stygia, or anything. Nope, not at all. Of course, the cold does nothing for the infernal- the shirtless titan that he is. At least it's a house. Habitable locales are always considerably more comfortable..."

 

 

Winter Rose nods, then clears her throat. "Er-- Just to be sure, (because once or twice I found out later and it was really hard to replace those people) you're not a ghost, are you? Not possessing someone? Something crazy?"

 

 

Sun-Shattering Tyrant says, "What, me?""

Sun-Shattering Tyrant says, "Oh hell no. I'm just a wandering War-God."

 

 

Winter Rose looks at Tyrant very seriously.

 

 

Sun-Shattering Tyrant says, "...What?"

 

 

Sun-Shattering Tyrant says, "It's true, you know. Perhaps not literal, but true."

 

 

"Oh good," she says, then reaches up. "War gods are very reliable." Words of power fall from her lips, ringing out into the air, rising up over the screams to fill up the room with a cold wind. A black expanse blossoms out, dusted by stars. Aza draws the spell around herself, spiraling tighter and tighter till the expanse is no more than two black spheres, one in each hand.

When she opens her eyes again and the spell dissapates, she holds two black vials. Aza lets out a breath, then shakes ice from her hair with a shivver. "Lets look for some doors. If we can find a central room, then we can probably free these."

 

 

Horrifyingly, even the doors and locks are made of people. Just to leave the room, one would have to insert a moliated key into a moliated lock, and cause both individuals horrible pain. It's a panoply of horror and personal torture crafted by a ghost only describeable as mad beyond belief.

 

 

Sun-Shattering Tyrant raises an eyebrow at the display of sorcery. Well, that's not impressive at all, "Not bad. What do you call that thing you just did? What're those potions for?"

As a side note, the Tyrant cares not much at all for the livelihood of locks and keys, and realizes that they need to get out before even looking to care for any of these poor sods. Yet.

 

 

"Black Vial Medicine," Aza says, wincing as she tries one of the doors. "It will send any ghost within ten yards to Lethe... or Void." The Winter Rose clears her throat, a bit embarrassed. "It's just... its just a little trick, sort of thing. For Exorcisms, yes?" Is the door locked?

 

 

It does indeed seem to be.

 

 

Winter Rose's inky lynx ears turn back and her short tail twitches. "Ugh. Stupid frog."

 

 

"Oh. Huh, I see. Well, that'd be useful around these parts, yeah," Mao shifts his stance from one leg to the other, eyes roving the room for anything that might stand out "So it's locked, is it? Well, we'd best start looking for a key."

 

 

Winter Rose nods and follows Mao's suggestion.

 

 

(Judge) Winter Rose rolls Wits + Awareness: [ -1- 2 5 7 7 7 8 8 ]

Resulting in 5 successes.

 

(Judge) Sun-Shattering Tyrant rolls Wits + Awareness: [ 3 6 7 7 9 ]

Resulting in 3 successes.

 

 

The key is actually quite visible. In a box of glass undoubtedly made out of people - clearly, they are supposed to smash it.

 

 

Winter Rose's green eyes narrow. "..."

 

 

Sun-Shattering Tyrant says, "Right," the Tyrant strides over to the box, "I've got this.""

 

 

Winter Rose swallows. "Are you going to break it?" she asks, trying not to sound too horrified. What a terrible place this is!

 

 

Sun-Shattering Tyrant says, "It's them or us, and they're already dead.""

Sun-Shattering Tyrant raises a fist, and slams it ever-so-nonchalantly into the box-of-people to take the key and make with the door-opening.

 

 

Winter Rose shudders. "If we find frog, I think we should make him into a box," she says, still a little pale.

 

 

The box explodes, screaming in unquestionable, horrific pain at Tyrant's blow. The key lies on the table, now.

 

 

Sun-Shattering Tyrant says, "Hell, if you know how, just turn him into an outhouse-seat," Mao makes his way to the door and slides the key into the lock, turning it as he does so, "It's suit him.""

 

 

The key enters the lock, and both are wracked with pain, erupting in wails and moans of utter, incomprehensible horror as it's turned. The door, too, does the same - the entire house is a tribute to pain, it seems.

 

 

Sun-Shattering Tyrant winces visibly at the horrific screeches. Noise is DEFINITELY not one of his favorite things in the world, "I'm surprised Adorjan hasn't annihilated this damn hell-house yet!"

 

 

The hallway...doesn't seem to be made of people. How interesting.

 

 

Winter Rose looks a little like she might be ill. She doesn't cover her ears again though, and doesn't seem to be frightened, though she does look up sharply into the next room as if expecting to find something leaping out at them. "H-h-how wierd," she says, stuttering. "You go first."

"War god and all that," she says, glancing up at him.

 

 

Sun-Shattering Tyrant says, "Right, right. I don't mind." Today is definitely not a good day at all, "Oh no, I understand. I'm also bigger and more liable to make a meatwall. I use the same strategy at war.""

Sun-Shattering Tyrant is however, undeniably unnerved at the -silence- in the hallway. It's refreshing, on one hand, but on the other, it's downright creepy. Not that he'll ever say that to anyone.

 

 

Winter Rose nods. "Its really big of you," she says, not at all catching the terrible pun. Sometimes its better, not speaking a language fluently.

 

 

The hallyway ends with three doors.

 

 

"Big of me?" The Tyrant chuckles, "You're a pretty funny one, aren't you? I like you. What are you, Lunar? Those ears scream Lunar." The Infernal casually begins traversing the hallway, senses sharpened just in case anything decides to pay them a visit.

 

 

Winter Rose nods, sticking rather close behind Mao. If this were Creation, or really ANYWHERE besides the scary screaming ghost house of AWFUL, she most certainly would not be hiding behind a man!

But y'know.

He IS a good meat shield.

"Lunar, yes. You are Infernal? Something bad will be in other room. Too quiet, yes?"

 

 

Sun-Shattering Tyrant says, "I am, yeah, you could call me that. Really, I'm more of a King, than a Green Sun Prince, you know?" the giant nods assertively. "Anyway, it looks like we've got a few choices here. My instincts say straight, but right now, an ape in my head is laughing its half-bare ass at me, so I'm going to say anything BUT straight.""

 

 

Winter Rose peeks past Tyrant. "Hrm..."

 

 

 

"I can't sense anything different about any of the ways," Aza offers helpfully.

 

 

Sun-Shattering Tyrant says, "Right. So which way do you want to go?""

 

 

Winter Rose reaches into her pocket.

Out comes a finger-bone, sharpened at one end. Stepping out in front, Aza holds it in her palm, then tosses it up. It spins in midair, then clatters to the fork in the hallway. Pointing right.

Such are the dangers of traveling with a supersticious icewalker. Aza plucks the bone from the ground and puts it back in her pocket shamelessly. "Lets go right!" she says.

 

 

Sun-Shattering Tyrant says, "Right. So we go right!" The Infernal twists the handle on the door courageously- or as courageously as one COULD possibly open a door. Naturally, he's open to take the first shot if there's a trap- or anything.

 

 

And stares...down another hall.

At the end of the hall, in fact...is himself. And Azami. Staring into the hall.

Wild.

 

 

Winter Rose jumps back a step. "Kah! Wrong door!"

 

 

"Kah! Wrong door!" The her in the hallway mirrors and mimics it exactly.

 

 

Sun-Shattering Tyrant says, "I wonder what'd happen if I punched myself?""

Sun-Shattering Tyrant says, "Would it be suicide if I killed myself here?"

 

 

"I wonder what'd happen if I punched myself? Would it be suicide if I killed myself here?"

 

 

Sun-Shattering Tyrant says, "Sweet. It's twice the badass. I like this door."

 

 

"Well yes!" Aza exclaims. "You would be killing yourself! Is always suicide!"

 

 

"Sweet. It's twice the badass. I like the door." "Well yes! You would be killing yourself! Is always suicide!"

 

 

Sun-Shattering Tyrant says, "Well, no. If it's not actually ME there, it'd be homicide, technically."

 

 

"Well, no. If it's not actually ME there, it'd be homicide, technically."

 

 

Sun-Shattering Tyrant says, "Anyway, let's try another door.""

The Infernal shuts the right door, and tries his luck with the left.

 

 

The left door...opens into nothingness. No light, no dark, no shadow, not even the green cast of the Infernal's banner. Just...nothing.

 

 

Winter Rose surrepticiously pulls the lucky bone out of her pocket, muttering. "<I knew I shouldn't have taken a finger off of such a tricksy poet. Figures you'd point me towards some stupid, creepy mirror universe, you stupid finger.>"

Winter Rose looks up.

 

 

Sun-Shattering Tyrant says, "Alright. Door to Malfeas' gut. Let's not go through here, eh?"

Sun-Shattering Tyrant says, "Middle door," the Infernal shuts that one, and goes to try the center.

 

 

"One you wanted to open first," Aza says.

 

 

Sun-Shattering Tyrant says, "The one I wanted to open not at all, actually, but hey, when lacking any other option, you know?""

 

 

The door opens into a study. There's a cheery fire roasting in a fireplace, a chair sitting in the center of the room on a completely normal rug, pictures hanging on the walls, bookshelves lining the walls, and a pleasant smell wafting from within. It's...literally, completely normal in every way.

 

 

Sun-Shattering Tyrant says, "Alright." He crosses his arms, "I'm going to burn this room when we're done. Something is obviously wrong.""

Sun-Shattering Tyrant says, "It's so right it's wrong."

 

 

Winter Rose blinks, then slips the finger bone back into her pocket. "Do you think this is way out?" She steps inside after him, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. But it is very warm in here, and after the first room and casting necromancy, she is very cold. Aza strays closer to the fire, looking at the pictures up on the mantle.

 

 

Oh god, they're pictures of her. But they're pictures of her, each one older, and older, and older, rotting away, until nothing is left but the Void of Oblivion, and it's horrible, so disturbing, as each picture grows older still, until all of them are the Void that swirls in her soul...

 

 

Winter Rose's green eyes widen. She looks away quickly, colour rising in her pale cheeks. "Stupid cow-fathering froggie. Cut his nasty fry-guts out with a spoon." She stalks around, looking for anything of importance and trying not to look at the pictures.

 

 

Gravely, the Infernal enters the room, "Yeah. It's a way somewhere, alright. We should keep moving. If we stay in one place for to long, the room'll start to get at us." He's heard the stories. People getting lost- hopelessly lost- in the halls of Malfeas. Eventually the city devours them, if they aren't welcome. And most who get lost in Malfeas are definitely not welcome.

 

Winter Rose startles. "Mao, door is gone!" She goes to where it was and runs her hands over the walls, fingers seeking out some hidden seam. "Damnit! Stupid /frog!/" Very quickly, the word frog has become a vile insult.

Winter Rose puts her hands on her hips and glowers at the wall. "Maybe Froggy gave us his real name. Then I summon him, and you pound his nasty face in."

 

 

Sun-Shattering Tyrant says, "Hahaha. I like you. You're vicious as hell sometimes." -HIS- spirits were picking up a bit, at least. Though that might be because seeing someone flustered always seems to get the blood pumping, "I've wondered if we could just punch through the walls, or something, but I'm quickly beginning to think that's impossible. Anyway, we should probably move before weird things happen even more."

 

 

Winter Rose turns round. "Infernals are very strange," she says, though this is not so much an insult as a curious sort of observation. She looks up at him and blows a white strand of hair out of her eyes. "You are right though; but how do we move? Perhaps--" she looks at the fireplace. Up through there? She looks around the room for something to put the fire out with.

 

 

Sun-Shattering Tyrant says, "Chances are that when we put out the fire, the books will start flying out at us. Or otherwise kill us. That's just my instinct talking, though."

 

 

The only object in the room besides the pictures and the books is the chair. And on the chair sits a skeleton, slumped over, fingers clutching the chair in abject pain. Probably the last poor 'Lively Friend' Toad invited into his home.

 

 

Sun-Shattering Tyrant says, "Right. Idea," The Infernal moves to the book cases, and begins flinging book after book after book over his shoulder."

Sun-Shattering Tyrant says, "Dump 'em in the fire."

Sun-Shattering Tyrant says, "I'll tell you if I find anything."

 

 

Winter Rose's mouth falls open. The Books! But...! But...!! This is tantamount to kicking babies! This is worse than cooking babies! This is cooking babies with extra grandmother seasoning!

 

 

Sun-Shattering Tyrant says, "If I know anything about these situations, it's that there's always a secret passageway hidden behind the bookshelves."

Sun-Shattering Tyrant says, "And the other thing is that these books are probably maddening, if we try to read them. That guy there has no books in front of him, right?"

 

 

Sun-Shattering Tyrant says, "Must be a reason for it. You can look if you want, but I'm tearing 'em off the shelves."

Winter Rose surrepticiously catches the books as Tyrant tosses them, stashing one after another in her satchel. Maddening? Who cares? But she lets a few hit the fire just for semblances.

 

 

There is, in fact, no secret passageway hidden behind the bookshelves.

There is, however, writing scrawled on the back.

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA

ARE

YOU

HAVING

FUN?

The words are, most disconcertingly, scrawled not in blood, but in what looks like liquid soul.

 

 

Sun-Shattering Tyrant says, "...Hnn.""

Sun-Shattering Tyrant says, "He's playing with us."

With that, the infernal begins tearing apart the other bookshelf.

 

 

HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA

ARE

YOU

STUMPED

YET?

YOU

SHOULD

GIVE

UP!

 

 

Sun-Shattering Tyrant says, "Right. I think I've figured it out."

 

 

"Nasty little frog." Aza says. A few of the books hit the fire. Sniffing, she thinks a short prayer for them, then looks up at the cieling.

 

 

The ceiling, of course, reads

TICK TOCK

TICK TOCK

TIME'S MOVING ON

MY LOVELY LITTLE LIVELIES

 

 

Sun-Shattering Tyrant says, "I say we root up the floorboards."

 

 

(Judge) Winter Rose rolls Wits + Awareness + Wits: [ -1- -1- 2 2 3 3 3 5 5 7 7 8 <10> ]

Resulting in 5 successes.

 

(Judge) Sun-Shattering Tyrant rolls Wits + Awareness: [ -1- -1- 3 5 6 ]

Resulting in a Botch!

 

 

Odd...the books should be burning. There should be a smell of paper. Instead, they just...vanished?

 

 

Sun-Shattering Tyrant doesn't notice at all, instead going to tear through the floorboards.

Unless stopped, that is.

 

 

The torn-up floorboards reveal absolutely nothing below.

 

 

Sun-Shattering Tyrant says, "...Hnn.""

 

 

Winter Rose winces. "Wait! Wait, Mao-- something is odd." She reaches out and touches his shoulder very lightly. "Books do not burn. They vanished."

 

 

The Infernal freezes.

 

 

Sun-Shattering Tyrant says, "...Vanished, you say?""

Sun-Shattering Tyrant says, "The answer isn't the chimney!"

He grins moving toward the fireplace, and tests the waters by extending a hand into the blaze.

 

 

OW! Fire HOT!

 

 

Winter Rose tosses the three books out of her satchel that she'd shoved in there.

 

 

Sun-Shattering Tyrant says, "That'd do!" The infernal cackles, withdraws, shaking the flame from his hand.

Sun-Shattering Tyrant says, "Right. So let's toss all the books into the fire, then run our asses right through."

Sun-Shattering Tyrant says, "Fire's real. What's behind it is a door. Gotta move quick, you know?"

 

 

Winter Rose looks at Tyrant like he's crazy. "If you say so." she says, dubiously. "Fire is hot, you know? What you call... science fact."

 

 

Sun-Shattering Tyrant says, "Right. Let's hurl those things into the fire and skeddaddle."

 

 

Winter Rose clears her throat delicately. "Far be it for a Lunar to contradict, but that is absolutely crazy. You go first."

 

 

He throws up another thumbs-up. This time, with his burnt hand, "Gladly! Are all the books in the pyre?"

 

 

Winter Rose has the grace to look embarrassed.

Winter Rose reaches into her satchel and takes out one of the pretty books. "Don't know how it got in there," she mutters, blushing, and hands it over.

 

 

Sun-Shattering Tyrant takes the book gracefully and HURLS IT RIGHT THROUGH THE FIREPLACE.

 

 

Winter Rose looks mournfully after it.

 

 

"Alright, here we go!" The Tyrant starts into a charge and leaps at the fire, arms crossed to protect his head.

 

 

BANG!

Tyrant's arm-bones impact the fireplace loudly. And then he disappears.

 

 

Winter Rose stares.

Winter Rose says, "Oh gods-damnit!"

 

 

Sun-Shattering Tyrant looks around at... Wherever he ended up at, and calls out, "Hey! I'm okay! Come on through, but mind the head!"

 

 

Winter Rose grabs one of the remaining books. Swearing all the way, she tosses it in, then jumps in.

 

 

Winter Rose reappears next to Mao, in yet another hallway. This one only has one door, at the very far end.

 

 

Winter Rose lands on her face.

Picking herself up, Aza dusts herself off and coughs. "Well! Figures a pervert like Froggie would put book burning as a door." Grumbling, she stalks towards the other door.

 

 

Sun-Shattering Tyrant grabs the opportunity to catch a glimpse up his companion's skirts, but quickly catches himself before she looks. Still, nice opportunity, nice choice of undergarments, "Yeah. Figures a pervert would, huh? Anyway. This corridor will either be endless, or twisting.