Hecate [IC]

Aix · October 4, 2014

The slit of a window told her that today was the night of the full moon, and as Hecate sat in a pain-filled daze in her cell, she was bathed in its ethereal light and felt her strength return to her. Her first thoughts, as her sanity began to reawaken, were of escape.

She rolled over and squirmed, and felt the wounds on her body scream out. She, too, would have screamed out if her throat was not too dry and no sound came out. Somehow, she managed to right herself into a sitting position. She felt nauseated and did not feel like standing as the silver-containing manacles that bound her hands together made her sick.

Finding that she still had the energy to maintain her balance, she calmed herself and concentrated on her surroundings. There was, of course, no way of escape that could be found in her cell, or she would have done so the first day. The spirits were far and distant here in the center of town, and the silver artifacts of the Church deterred any spirits from approaching at her call. Minor demons roamed at the darkest corners feeding off the negative emotions that ensued, but they could not draw up the full power to manifest. This was hallowed ground, a hexagram had been drawn in salt in the floor above. An antiquated and rather ineffectual form of ward in Hecate’s opinion, but it sufficed in preventing any demons from appearing.

Nevertheless, there was another source of power for her here, and in her reverie, she had resolved herself to use it.

Humans.

Humans, too, had a spirit, but it was encased in their mortal flesh and they themselves for the most part had no way of accessing it. But as a witch, Hecate was capable of connecting with all forms of spiritual presences, and with their consent, she was able to manipulate even the spiritual power inherent in everyone to its full extent.

Not everyone had any significant spiritual power within them, but what the average man had was enough for what she intended to do.

She was about to attempt one of the most depraved types of ritual that she had learned in the most blasphemous of texts.

A most simple ritual that brought out the monster in every man and damned their soul to purgatory.

She was about to create a Faust.

No... Her pain and anger began boil at the Church that held her prisoner... One Faust would not be enough.

Dark thoughts began to stir within her as she drew upon the darkest forces in the world. Whether the thoughts were hers or otherwise, it was impossible to tell.

But, she would raze this castle to the ground. Those despicable priests deserved to die. Those who blindly followed their inane teachings would die.

She would destroy everything in her path, and everyone, and everyone, and everyone...

Her mind reached out to every prisoner in the dungeon, with all the malevolent presence of an evil god.

“I would give you your life, in exchange for your soul. I would let you escape this foul prison. Do accept this dark contract and give up everything for a chance at freedom? Say yes for the power to bring kings to their knees. Say no and you may rot in your cell forever.”

Feeling a positive response, she stared up, and then her eyes rolled to the back of her head. “Oh, Typhon, greatest Lord of Demons, accept these children into your immoral fold.”

There was a hideous sound as the prisoners’ flesh began to change and the very nature of their being transformed. Insanity descended upon them, and there was the clang of iron bars forcefully bent apart.

Asriel Dreemurr · October 4, 2014

Ignace sighed as he found himself waking up once again in that prison cell, and some part of him wanted those that had imprisoned him to just hurry up and get on with his execution if only to alleviate the boredom. It was something he'd managed to accept, that his death was coming, and he'd made his peace with it. What he hadn't made peace with was the waiting, the seemingly endless waiting, in this wretched cell that was only lit by those few cells across the hall that bore narrow windows to the outside.

Now that he thought of it, why had he woken up? Normally it would have been the first light of the day or the sound of the warden banging his mace on the bars that brought him up to another day of waiting, but both were absent tonight. Rising off the cold earthen floor and stretching out in the process, he eventually came to the barred door of his cell and looked about in the gloom. Outside was the hall leading between the cells in this part of the prison. To his left it ran to a set of stairs leading up, which themselves led to a heavy locked door and beyond that the rest of the fortified structure that was this town's keep. To his right it ran off into the darkness where other cells held other prisoners who, by the sound of things, had been awakened similarly to him. The torch-bearing guards, who were the only source of light in that hall, seemed to notice that their charges had woken and sent one of their own to tell the warden.

"Nothing," he said, his voice cracking from the dryness of his throat and the lack of having spoken in quite a while, "but then why did I-" his question was answered before long. He at first felt some strange presence, unlike anything he'd felt before, and instinctively recoiled from the contact. Just as he was trying to figure out what to do, things became even more complicated.

"I would give you your life, in exchange for your soul. I would let you escape this foul prison. Do you accept this dark contract and give up everything for a chance at freedom? Say yes for the power to bring kings to their knees. Say no and you may rot in this your cell forever." It certainly was a difficult choice, and he took a moment to weigh his options. On the one hand he was promised freedom, and freedom included the possibility of getting some sort of life together for himself. On the other, it was his soul that was being asked for in return, and as an Alterian by birth damnation was something he had an understandable aversion to. Whatever the case may be, he recognized that he had little time to decide and so a hasty choice was needed.

"Yes." He agreed, realizing that he'd rather die free than pure of whatever the church would say this brought on. He stood there for a moment, waiting for whatever it was that would happen next. At first he came to think that nothing was going to happen, but right as he was about to speak those thoughts something began.

His entire body was wracked with such incredible pain that he could not hold himself up. Every part of him hurt, and it felt like his flesh was being torn from his bones. He was slowly stretched out to several times his size, the tattered clothes he'd been wearing torn to pieces in the process, and he felt some new limb grow from his rear. His arms swelled up, growing to an obscene size to fit the rest of his body while his feet twisted and contorted into hooves. Great horns emerged from a head that seemed to melt away until all that was left of it was a maw, soon to be filled with needle-sharp black fangs. He roared and bellowed as the transformation slowly reached completion, the flesh on his chest fell away to expose ribs much larger than any human's had a right to be, great bat-like wings formed on his back but twisted backwards and with little between their bones to offer support, and a great trail of spines formed along his back. Over the course of all of this, he grew in size until it seemed that the very walls of the cell struggled to hold him, and he began to give off heat oh so similar to the forge he had worked until they'd thrown him in that cage. The only sounds that reached his ears were similar pained cries from other prisoners, and the panicking guards trying to deal with the situation.

Eventually the pain subsided, and he was left blindly trapped in that cell. That ended shortly, as the mere process of shifting about to get his legs, and the arms that he now needed to support himself as well, under him threw the door off its hinges. The sound filled the prison, as did similar sounds from other cells, and let the newly formed horror form a picture of the place. Combined with the footsteps of a guard rushing him, he was able to see that the poor man had dropped his weapon and fled. A coal-black tongue darted from between his jaws and licked those teeth as the guard tried to stop running and stumbled down just in his reach. Before he could get up, he was made into the first meal Ignace had eaten in days. The rather lightly armored man only screamed at first, with those powerful jaws crunching down on his chest he was alive for only a few moments before being properly torn apart and sucked down into the beast's hungry gullet. Now, trying best to work out where to find more food, his attention was brought elsewhere.

A voice, speaking words he could not understand, called to him and drew him out to where another bared door stood. He'd since completely wrecked the front of his own cell, and probably pushed the other walls out a good bit, in the process of moving about to stand before that door. He could tell there was someone inside of it, likely the source of that voice that was calling him, and for some reason he just felt incredibly happy knowing he was near that person. Why he would have rolled over on his back if there were room to, but for now wagging his new tail would have to do. The barred entrance to that cell found a quartet of horns hooked against it, and once that was done it was a simple matter to pull them out of the way of the woman inside. What was a less simple matter was getting them off of his face, and so he started shaking his head around before finally bringing his clawed hands up to just pull what was by now just a twisted up mess of metal off his horns and throw it down the hall to get rid of it before he turned back to the cell he'd pulled it off of with his head pointed towards the one within, all the while blocking the way out to anyone who happened to be further from the prison's exit than the giant malformed thing in the hall.

Mugendramon · October 4, 2014

...

The first thing Gregory did that night was fling his eyes open. The second thing was sighing in relief, seeing the pale moonlight draw an elongated pattern on the floor of his cell and casting the darkness away. A moment later, he realized that he had woken in the middle of the night and looked out into the hall with a start. As dark as one would expect, except this darkness felt deeper than it should be on a full moon night.

Slowly and painfully, the man sat himself up right and folded his legs on the precarious bed. He cast a tired sideways glance at the wall the window was carved in, focusing intently on the markings he had made with whatever food he had chosen not to eat. The markings were plentiful but did not yet take up a large portion of the wall. He drew these markings as an incentive; they were a reminder that there was a problem yet unsolved, and it worked this time as well as every other.

It wasn't like the problem was unsolvable, but there was no way to do so in his current circumstances. Some factor was always missing, some detail working against an acceptable solution. At the end of every day, he would make another marking and sleep on his failure. But he never did quit it. How to get away from this looming fate? He still sought an answer.

His thoughts changed suddenly, inexplicably. He had never once considered a possibility. What if he were to make a pact with the dark spirits of the other side? What spirits, what other side, what pact, none of that seemed to be a concern to his straight mind at the moment, merely the musing of his tired head. If he made this pact, gained his freedom and immense power with it, at the cost of using his soul as a catalyst for that power, would he do it?

Yes, he answered his own thoughts; he most definitely would.

... !

Almost immediately did Gregory's hand slap across his face, forcing his mind out of its lethargic state. In this world, everything had answers. Science could explain and solve all, and no church or demon was going to get him out of this prison. Now, he decided, it was time to solve this one, for sure. No matter how dark it was around right now.

So dark... there must be a cloud covering the moon right now. He made a motion to kneel on his bed toward the window, but the darkness around him stopped him dry. He could not look away from the dark now, it would take him.

His mind began to race. Slowly at first; he realized quickly that he needed to get his mind off the irrational fear. He revised his potential, unfinished escape plans in his head best as he could, reminding himself what was missing from each of them. His failure to do so only made him more resolute– there must have been something he had missed– something hiding from him– something hiding in the shadows– he looked around, it was so dark– no, no, no, think about– about what– thoughts– the dark– so dark so dark so dark– teeth, eyes, everywhere– so dark– help–

"HeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLP!"

The screech subsided, but it carried along the halls long after Gregory had fainted. The seizuring that followed was brutal– the inhumane twisting of arms and legs would have made even the bravest of men recoil with fear. Any priest would have found no words for it short of "possession". Funny, as it turns, since they would be right.

Eventually the convulsing came to a halt, thusly concluding any and all movement in Gregory's little corner of hell. Well, this is not entirely accurate. The anchor, his body, showed no movement. It was only the pitch black dragging along the stone walls and toward the candles in the hallways.

A poor guard noticed this, quickly taking a loose defensive stance. The blackness responded, with what one well versed with the phenomenon would have called amusement, by flipping a multitude of large purple eyes open throughout the walls. Two giant rows of sharp fangs drew behind the guard, and what came next you can imagine.

After it was done stretching, the shadow crept along the dark, but not unlit, hallways toward the one who had called.

Super Chaos Sonic · October 5, 2014

Fear

"That man! You're the son of that devil, Sir Herne Marrok!!"

"He's a witch...he was conjured up by that demon in the form of man!!"

"He's just like that creature...take him away, guards!!"

These sentences and many more flooded the poor knight's mind. Ywain Gorlagon...the Bastard Knight (or Son) of the Vale...was now sitting within the dreary confides of the Church's dungeon, being accused of the act of witchcraft...when in actuality...he was just related to a devil of a man. Was, anyway...

The young knight, who had devoted his life in service to the Vale, as his father once did, found himself meeting the man who birthed him: Sir Herne Marrok. However, his meeting of his father turned out to be shorter than he hoped. The things he wanted to tell him...how much he and his mother needed him...how much it hurt that he was never there... Alas, these conversations would most likely would continue in the afterlife, as Herne Marrok was tortured...and died during this torture...

Alone and to himself, the bastard knight sat in the cell, just staring at the four walls that confided him. So...I am to meet the same fate as my father? The bastard son following the same fate as his wicked father? ...A fitting end to ones life...though ironic... His eyes gazed to the ceiling of the cell, as if staring up to the heavens. He prepared to whisper a prayer...but this would not be the case...

“I would give you your life, in exchange for your soul. I would let you escape this foul prison. Do accept this dark contract and give up everything for a chance at freedom? Say yes for the power to bring kings to their knees. Say no and you may rot in your cell forever.”

When this was heard, Ywain stood up to start searching around his cell. What was this? Who was speaking to him? ...And what did they mean when they spoke of this sort of power...?

A flood of thoughts overcame the young knight as he pondered what he would prefer. Dying here and meeting the same fate as the wicked man that was his father? ...Or... Be free and possibly lose his soul for this power? It was a question that truly tested the knight...however, his chivalrous nature kicked in and was about to respond to the voice with a no...but...this was not to be...as within his mind, he truly did want to be free.

As if not caring whether he said yes or no verbally...Ywain felt a sharp pain all over his body as he fell to his knees, yelling in deep pain.

A transformation had begun on the knight of the Vale as he felt his very flesh begin to sprout massive amounts of dark grey fur, as he watched his nails grow razor sharp. More yelling and groaning came from the knight, as he was breathing heavily as this was only the beginning...

His nose elongated into what appeared to be a muzzle...and from his mouth, razor sharp fangs started to appear. The fur kept spreading all over his body, until finally a loud howl was heard from Ywain's cell...

....And then...silence...

At this moment, a guard made his way past the cell and didn't see Ywain...only the huge beast in armor that was in the middle of the room. Immediately the guard opened the cell gate...a foolish mistake.

When the cell gate creaked open, the sharp hearing ears of the beast twitched and it swiftly moved towards the guard, snarling as it pinned him up against the wall. Its fangs barring, he was poised to slaughter the guard...he could hear bones start to creak and crunch at the pressure he put on the guard's body...it almost excited him.

However...something stopped him...as he growled deeply, before turning around and slamming him into the cell it was standing in and then bending the gate to force it shut.

This beast...no...the young knight of the Vale, Ywain Gorlagon...now walked the hallway of the dungeon to find the voice who called to him....

Tesability Black · October 5, 2014

It had been a few days since the man in simple dirty clothing had last dared to sleep, sitting on the floor with his hands bound together and with only minimal room to move his feet due to the binding around them should he actually wish to walk around. However, considering his daily 'visits' from the guards and the pain that shot through his entire body from them afterwards, he had not been able to sleep. He didn't have the energy to even try.

"Why..." he faintly asked as he looked up toward the moonlight that shown through the tiny barred window, mentally zoning out as watched the gentle light.

"It's almost time, child," he suddenly heard in his mind, which caused the brown-haired young man to jump up slightly out of his sleep-induced daze before looking around the small filthy cell with his brown eyes.

"What was that," he asked himself, slightly more alert than he was before.

"She is here, do not ignore her." Blinking twice before recognizing the voice and almost-paled, he managed to stand up onto his feet, though with a bit of difficulty. "I will grant you aid as I can."

"I don't think I'll ever believe the fact that I'm doing this," he managed to mutter to himself before a new voice entered into his mind, the voice he assumed to be the Witch he had been warned off.

"I would give you your life, in exchange for your soul. I would let you escape this foul prison. Do you accept this dark contract and give up everything for a chance at freedom? Say yes for the power to bring kings to their knees. Say no and you may rot in this your cell forever."

He thought about what would happen. Based off some of the stories he heard from Witch Hunters in the past that had been actually willing to tell him stories, Witches would make contracts with humans to create more powerful, violent servants than the normal spirits that serve them, Fausts. Such creatures would often have extreme difficulty in controlling themselves, almost no control at all. Closing his eyes for a moment, he thought about the words spoken. He knew these questions were precise, not answering in the specified ways renders the question voided, as if it had not been asked. At least, that's how he understood it, so he wouldn't be able to see if he could at least make it so that he could provide some sort of safety toward those that did not deserve to be harmed by such a beast.

Lowering his head, he took a deep sigh, his body slightly shivering as he responded with a 'yes'. A few seconds passed before something began to glow faintly under the white shirt he wore, pulling it out to reveal upon a braided leather necklace a circular pendant showing an ivory dove flying in front of a topaz sun. The ivory dove was glowing with a powerful white light and the topaz sun reflected some of this light. An chorus of painful cries began to echo through the cells, calling to attention many of the guards that patrolled here...as well as other things to certain prisoners.

"What's going on," he asked in a panic, trying to get to the metal bars that stood between him and escape.

Then he fell onto his hands and knees, closing his eyes tightly and gritting his teeth as a burning sensation beginning to fill him, the pendant glowing brighter all the while. The heat, the fire, it was becoming more than he could possibly bare. He could feel some of his teeth growing longer as his hair began to grow longer, feeling it reach the center of his back. The heat he felt almost had his miss the sound of the manacles around his wrists suddenly connect with the stone floor below him, causing him to open his eyes.

His hands had become paws just small enough for the manacles to fall through, causing him to widen his eyes in horror as his now-paws began to grow red fur to completely cover his skin. "What's happening to me?!"

"Calm thyself, child." A sudden feeling of calm sweeping over him, he closed his eyes once more. The pain was still there, but now it was considerably more bearable. He felt his legs and arms grow longer and change, matching that of...a horse?...in shape and muscle build, but the fur and paws he felt on his now-hind legs made it clear that this was not the case. The center of his body also changed and grew, a large extension coming from the center of his back midway through the change. The last to change was his head, which he felt the front of his face move forward and shift. Fur covered his body as his clothing began to break apart in various ways, the pendant from around his lengthening neck still hanging in its place. When his eyes finally opened, the only reason he knew his appearance was from the reflection shown in an actually-clean part of one of the bars.

He looked rather-vaguely like a fox, a large one that could be mistaken for a horse from a great distance instead. His fur was a bright-red color outside of the yellow mane from the back of his head and neck. his eyes had changed from the brown they once were to neon-green with dark-green irises instead of black. Upon his back was a long, orange limb, functioning like a tentacle, but not quite so.

He needed to go, get out of here. The place he was held in barely held him with any room, he had to get out. A sudden thought crossed his mind, the flickering of flame entering his mental eye. Almost as soon as his body had finished the transformation, it underwent another one, of his body becoming pure flame before quickly moving through the bars and super-heating them, reforming to what he was before the sudden bursting into momentary flame as he emerged upon the other side, the necklace still around his neck miraculously with a faint glow.

"He really is a Faust!" Turning toward the source, the dark-pupils narrowed into snake-like slits as he felt the burning rage increase within him. His eyes had landed on one of the guards that often 'visited' him, paralyzing him and forcing the removal of his clothing, the various lashings and slashes upon his body with their various blades whips...even the rapings...

"You made this monster," he managed to say in a patterned bark before grabbing the man with the whiparm, taking the man with him for later purposes. If he needed to escape, he could easily do so, so that was not a worry at the moment. Instead, there was a sudden pulling feeling, pulling him toward one particular direction.

"Let me go, you foul beast," he heard from the guard in his grip as he heard more step into range. But he wasn't concerned just yet. Instead, he ran toward the source of the pull, taking a second each time to back-kick and knock away the guards that tried to follow and slamming the human in his grip against those who try to approach from the front...

The Warden · October 5, 2014

The Church is not a nice being, to say the least. But monsters do tend to fear other monsters; and one such monster was contained with the more austere portion of the Church's Dungeon. They weren't pleasant with this monster, as you tend to be; he was chained to the roof of his cell, and he was left there to hang as chains bound him tightly to the floor. But unlike most of the criminals in this place, he did not utter a noise. No, all he did was smile. His smiled cracked his dry, thing lips as he leered out at the guards that make their annual round.

He also leered at the Priests that would come by, begging him to confess so he could be given a sound death. But he said nothing, he just smiled; a smile that hid the frustration that his stabbing wrists were atrophying by the lack of food and water, and that they wouldn't be the same after those damn manacles had had their way with them. Granted, these moments were fair and few between, as the lack of water and food was having a crippling effect on his mental condition. His mind was giving in to dehydrated delirium; where sleep was his only refuge.

Granted, he didn't sleep much, as even though he was hanging by his wrists, this particular night was even worse. His positioning was an extra torture, as the moonlight from a barred window shone straight onto his face. The light agitated him so, and even in his lethargic state he was not allowed the gift of rest. His sallow eyes cracked open, their blood-shotness a testament to his condition. "Pathetic c***s keeping me here. Kissing Titania's ass like she's some b**** you're trying to marry. I won't be held here forever you know. And when I DO get out, I am going to gut you like the f***ing pigs that you are" he thought it one of his momentary fits of fury, before delirium took over again.

He grit his teeth from the pain of hunger, as he hadn't been fed in five days. Though the dehydration was more murder; his throat felt like it was being crushed from all sides, like he was being choked by some bastard with thick hands. He couldn't even gurgle pointlessly as the dryness reached deep into his being. The bastards didn't even let him down to relieve himself, not that he had anything left to relieve.

“I would give you your life, in exchange for your soul. I would let you escape this foul prison. Do accept this dark contract and give up everything for a chance at freedom? Say yes for the power to bring kings to their knees. Say no and you may rot in your cell forever.”

What the f*** was that? Come the f*** on. He seriously could NOT be going insane yet; it hadn't even been a f***ing week. And yet, the words felt different, as if, they hadn't originated within his own head. Could it be, no way, did the Church ACTUALLY have a f***ing Witch imprisoned. "Like you need to f***ing ask?! Yes!" he screamed mentally.

Waiting patiently, had it been just a delusion? Thinking about it, Gaecy didn't have long to realize it wasn't as his skin, no, his entire body started burning. He bore against the pain as his skin was on fire, turning dark black as fine hairs forced their way through his pores, coating him in shag. His head was shaking wildly as a powerful pressure built up in the front of his skull. He wanted to claw at his own face in agony, but he was forced to hand as his face split apart, his growing skull snapping and bending into shape; the remains of his face coating the underside as the eye holes of the exposed skull came alight with crimson points of light. Gaecy's slit-like nose snorted with a strange visible heat as his two front teeth lengthened down to cover the front of his lower jaw. In unison sharp fangs protruded from both his upper and lower jaw, rising up in rows.

His back tensed up as his muscles swelled beneath his burning flesh, growing and bubbling as his chest, abdominals and back widened with muscle, destroying the disgusting rags he had been forced to wear in his incarceration. Following it came a thick pelt of ark brown hair that ran down from his head, becoming a large mane on his back that ran across his shoulders and to his elbows. The definition raced up his arms and forced itself through the manacles. Gaecy hissed in pain as the bastard metal dug deeply into his flesh, but the metal gave up first and burst apart; dropping Gaecy to the ground. The hair on his back whisked and twisted in the air, but with two loud snaps, Gaecy was forced onto his ass as his knees inverted. His primal mind watched in awe as the muscle definition surged along his legs, widening them into fierce kicking machines. The manacles on his legs stood no chance and burst apart as his feet and toes lengthened. Nubs bubbled at the tips of his toes, bursting like boils as long nails grew from them. Forcing himself back to his feet, Gaecy stood tall as his fingers joined his toes, lengthening and bursting out in claws. A large lump ran across and around his back before stopping just above his rump. The lump burst out into a long rat-tail; the decaying appendage whipping through the air as from the exposed bone of the tip, a scythe blade formed. Sick yellow liquid dripped from it, causing small burns on the ground from its caustic nature. No longer a man, but a Faust, Gaecy roared furiously against his prison. With a sift swing of his prehensile tail, the scythe cut through the door hinges. Another furious roar bellowed out as he kicked the door to the ground, and the beast stepped out into the moonlight.

The other prisoners were screaming loudly at this point, and their screams were so very irritating. Snuffling at the air, the Faust stared into the cell of the prisoner opposite it. The human Gaecy would remember the insults that cunt threw at him when he was first chained up; but all the Faust Gaecy saw was an easy meal. Gripping tightly to the door, the Faust tore it clean off its hinges, and the man only screamed harder. "Pl-please... do-don't!" he begged, but the Faust would have none of it.

Hunger controlled the creature as its grabbed its prey, and with a fierce bite he tore into the poor bastard's abdomen. The man screamed in agony before death consumed him, and the Faust consumed his soul. Satisfied somewhat, the Faust chucked the half-eaten body away in disgust as it lurked down the hallway on all fours. Seeing so many meals, but so little time, the hairs on Gaecy's back vibrated wildly, sending out a black cloud. It separated into smaller clouds that drifted into each cell. Within seconds the prisoners were all screaming in pain as the Black Fleas tore and chewed at them.

Gaecy's belly bulged as the flesh of the many were devoured, but that didn't interest him as much as his 'guest'. A small swarm of grey rats had skittered up to great him. Allowing their presence, they climbed up his limbs and hid amongst his mane as he lumbered through the darkness, hunting for the one who called him into being.

Andx · October 5, 2014

"Where am I? Who am I?" the thoughts echoed through Kyra's mind. Everything was in pieces with her memories scattered and her senses confused. It felt like she was falling. Or was it sinking? Perhaps that described it better. It was like sinking ever deeper into a vast ocean and all that she was had been sent adrift on it. She had been in great pain but it all felt dulled now. Trying to see where she was proved pointless and she felt powerless to do anything other than continue sinking. Every so often she would see a glimpse of something however. A bit of memory, perhaps a bit of what was going on right now.

One scene came before her eyes. It was the inside of a prison cell. Had she been in prison? What was her crime? How long had she been there? As she looked on she saw the bars to the cell break apart and fly away but wasn't entirely sure what the cause had been.

"That's right. I was in prison. But why?" she thought again. A sort of pain seemed to take hold of her as she asked that question. Memories seem to drift into her mind again and with them brought the feeling of some unbearable pain. Kyra couldn't recall what it had been but wanted none of it to return to her.

Another scene appeared in her mind. This time facing towards the walls of the prison cell. There was a small opening that allowed moonlight to fill the room. The moon was so bright and Kyra's mind seemed to fixate on it as she continued to observe. Almost hoping this was somehow real she reached out her hand toward the light she saw only to be greatly startled. Her hand seemed to be covered in armor. But closer inspection revealed that it was perhaps made of armor.

"What happened to me?" came her thoughts again. And with the sight more memories and more of the frightening pain. She remembered being accused of a crime though what she couldn't recall. There was a great feeling of despair returning to her as she recalled her time in the prison. She had wanted to live. No matter what there was something she absolutely had to live for. But what was it? Trying to remember meant nothing, the pieces could only come and go as they pleased. Regardless she had wanted to live. How many people had she begged for her life? Her accusers, her captors, the guards who had taken her, the goddess she'd been taught to believe in, but eventually it came down to just internally pleading for her own life to some unknown force that could spare her.

At what seemed like the height of her anguish a strange thought had entered her mind. It spoke of escaping, living, power, souls, and other such things. Kyra saw in this the glimmer of hope she had so desperately begged for and agreed to whatever this thought had told her. And then the memories came again. The unbearable physical pain she had experienced. She witnessed her body change. Her limbs and upper body seeming to be made of metal while her lower half seemed to be some sort of fish. She had been the one to destroy the bars of her cell.

"That's me... why am I here then?" she thought once more. The glimpses she saw and heard indeed seemed to be what was currently happening to her but she seemed so completely detached from it at the same time. She heard various screams coming from various parts of the prison. And then another joined the chorus. One that felt like a scream of emotional pain. She realized it was her own. And yet it felt so distant like everything else. It still felt like her memories held some greater pain she wasn't remembering. What was it she had wanted to live for? What could have made her want to live so badly? And then it came rushing back to her.

"John." was the single word that came to mind. Everything else that had returned to her mind faded away again. This was all that mattered. The reason she had to live and get away from this prison. She had to see him again. She had to get outside of the prison. Yet there was a wall in her way. The single thought of seeing John consumed her. Anything in her way needed to be destroyed. She already had a massive sword in hand and began swinging mindlessly at the wall. It wasn't the most effective method but she needed out. There should have been a very painful feeling of recoil with each strike against the wall but Kyra could hardly feel anything. She was hardly Kyra anymore. She was a monster only driven by the thought of seeing the one she had loved again.

Eventually a slight calm seemed to come as she could tell she had broken through the wall and was now standing outside in the light of the moon. But Kyra kept sinking deeper. She was becoming less and less herself. But that wasn't important so long as she found the one she so longed to see. The feeling was all she was and with it she let out another screech to pierce the night.

Maeriberii Haan · October 6, 2014

"Lady...

..Mmm-

Where...

,,,I..."

Grumbling some barely comprehensible words as she stared blankly to the ceiling of her cell, that was pretty much how Alisa spent the last several days of her life as she waited for the guards to drag her to the execution ground. She couldn't get it, she couldn't comprehend why would she be imprisoned here with murderers, thieves, and accused witches. Was trying to love someone a crime these days? It was a question that she kept on pondering as her mind slowly losing its grip on the fleeting world she's currently in.

She tried her best to remember things, things like love, happiness, and her youth, but all that she could remember were several figures that she could barely recognize, but that was enough, the memories were enough to keep her accompanied during her last days. The guards barely did any contact towards her, and the other prisoners inside the cell pretended that she did not exist. Knowing that, Alisa's heart started to get hurt and cut apart, little by little. She wanted to reach out to them so her love could touch each of their hearts, but she was rejected before she could even try.

Indeed, she thought. This was the age where love was dying, its warmth had left the now cold hearts of humans. At times she couldn't help but to tear up as she thought about that. If only her heart could touch everyone's heart, if only everyone could understand the universal language called love, ah, that would be a paradise on earth.

“I would give you your life, in exchange for your soul. I would let you escape this foul prison. Do accept this dark contract and give up everything for a chance at freedom? Say yes for the power to bring kings to their knees. Say no and you may rot in your cell forever.”

Power...

Why she would need it? Power only brings pain, suffering, not love. Why would she accept something that would only hurt her heart more and more?

But then, memories of the incident eight years ago emerged. She was weak.

She was weak, selfish, but mostly, she was too weak. Too weak to protect the ones she loved...

Too weak

too weak

weak

not weak

power

She had no idea, no idea, no idea, no idea, nothing, nothing on her mind anymore. Power, power, would it be worth it?

But, she wanted herself to be able to stay together, forever, with her loved ones. But the world kept on separating them cruelly. The cruel world, cruel, cruel, she wanted revenge, no, she wanted to be strong enough to be together with her love.

Yes, strong.

She wanted to be strong. Overrun with desire, she mentally screamed her agreement with the mysterious voice inside her mind, and not long after that, her body started to warp, to change. Her skin started to be covered with black ichor as white masks started to grow on her body. Her limbs disappeared into thin air, but at the same time, as a void enlarged at the bottom of her body, dozens of tentacles started appearing around the glorious hole, and it was ended with the ichor completely covering her face, sealing off most of her senses from the outside world. But the world stopped to matter for her, as she now saw everyone as they truly were, and that greatly pleased her. Her two cellmates were trying desperately to escape seemingly, but she could sense it, that they actually were only too shy to admit that they loved her. And it was simply her job to return their affection towards her as best as she could. Grabbing the two of them with her tentacles, she started to hug the two of them tightly, as some sort of liquid dripped from her tentacles. At first, they were seemingly too shy to admit their affection, and tried to escape, but not long after, they stopped moving altogether, completely admitting their love towards her. Alisa let out a muffled giggle that couldn't be heard. Finally, after all these years, she could love and be loved without anyone standing in between.

But she wanted more. She wanted them to stay with her for eternity, as long as she walked on this cruel world. She didn't want to be alone, after all. And she only knew about one way to do it. Grabbing the two, who were just lying motionless on the floor, she pushed them with her tentacle towards her glorious void, where they quickly merged with her being as one.

The feeling, the desire to love was too overwhelming for Alisa, and she couldn't just be satisfied with two loves. After all, the gift of love must be spread to everyone in this world that wanted them. She didn't want to keep being selfish, after all.

WIth her body seemingly losing their bones, she was able to slip out of her cell from the gap between the bars, and immediately after she went out, she let her desire to guide her to find another lover for her to satisfy.

Aix · October 8, 2014

She could not help but recoil in an instant of fear as the fire beast came for her, and her concentration nearly broke at the sight of its hellish maw. A bead of cold sweat rolled down her face as she stared took measure of it. This was what she had created, visualizing the true horrible forms that could arise from every man's soul. This was the fruit of the wicked covenant between man and demon.

Forcing her exhausted body to move, she scrambled to her feet and brushed herself off, then, straightening herself to stand more dignified before these abominations. Of the Fausts she created, there were four that came to her heed, she could feel their unearthly presences behind the fire dragon, their bloodlust, and their insanity coming to a boiling point. The rest had already rushed off to wreck havoc, and screams and various sounds of destruction erupted from the areas beyond.

Hecate walked out of her cell, past the fire beast, ignoring the brutal heat that radiated from it. Without flinching, she passed the dark mass of claws and fur to her left, and continued on stepping over the shadows that had grown numerous sets of following eyes and elongated mouths. Even against the putrid stench of rotted flesh, Hecate did not hesitate as she walked past. These were the new servants she had chosen, born of darkness to fight the darkness. Champions, in another word.

But, her breathing grew heavy and ragged as she realized she could not hold these monsters still for much longer. They were furthest from what anyone would call a champion, and truly controlling them proved impossible as her magical reserves stretched to a limit. She would only be able to herd them along, and direct the path of bloodshed.

Outside, those who called themselves true champions of good gathered, and Hecate could hear the clamouring of countless footsteps and armour.

"Follow me," she said, and she ran forth without another word. Directing with a gesture for one of the beasts to break down the last door out of the dungeons, an infernal scene began before her eyes as the freed monsters let loose upon their captors.

Tesability Black · October 8, 2014

Out of all that could keep up with the young Witch's speed, the horse-sized fox had the easiest time keeping up, slamming the annoying guard in his grip hard into the door she pointed toward. Through the whiparm, he could still feel the human's heartbeat, but the impact certainly knocked the guard out. "Need a ride," he barked as he lowered himself enough for her to get on between his neck and the whiparm's base, the dove of his pendant glowing faintly as he did. She would have to sit like a man on his horse if she wanted to make sure she stayed on, but it would certainly beat having to run on her own power. There was a fair bit of heat coming off this particular Faust, but not enough to burn upon touch and the fur helps to create a buffer between her and the heat.

Mugendramon · October 8, 2014

Gregory's shadow was not necessarily happy that the witch ran along it, but this was no more than a reflection of what a human would say is akin to childishly craving a mother's attention. Mouths twisted into grimmaces to fit this sentiment, but continued to creep along the corridors below the others and... "mother". It could not think of a better term to refer to her.

The displacement of the eyes and mouths being the only way to properly describe the shadow's movement along its dark mass, it would be somewhat accurate to say that it stopped, leaving a single eye behind, as the rest kept up with "mother" running past Gregory's cell. Leaving this here could be... bad, it realized in a moment of clarity.

Tendrils crept off the the edges of the shadow and picked the limp body. It dragged... no, slid, accross the shadow and closer to "mother" once. Virtual human waves filled the dungeon corridors, and whatever slack his "brothers" did not bite, burn or otherwise eviscerate was left for it to idly pick away at, a glow akin to wonder reflecting in the many eyes as men were torn by sharp tendrils or surrounded by teeth and darkness.

Being amorphous carried over another fun trait, and it showed through the first time "mother" ran past a forking corridor. Gregory's shadow did not move past, but rather split in all directions. The vessel still followed "mother", but the two tunnels left untouched were not quite so after it had ran its course.

At one point however, the shadow was forced to a halt. The rocky, lit surface ended abruptly. It was not quite touch, but Gregory's shadow could tell that beyond this point a similar presence, a "brother", was sharing its medium. Creeping further along the walls instead, the source was soon in view.

Leaving a few mocking grins behind for it, the shadow went right past it to prey on more of the guards with unworldy, immature glee.

Asriel Dreemurr · October 8, 2014

Ignace was admittedly somewhat upset when the one who'd called him just walked on by, and he let out a sound similar to the sort of whimper a dog might make if they were looking for attention. Still, he managed to pay attention as she walked out of her cell and into the hall. His first instinct was to follow her, but that became a problem rather quickly. His new, swollen form was far too large for the passage he was currently occupying and so he found that in the process of getting over to her cell and removing the bars from its entrance he had become stuck. His wings were, somewhat uncomfortably, pinned against the sides of the passage and he hardly had room to move his arms and legs about. Sure, with a bit of trying he was able to drag himself along without too much trouble but the woman was getting too far ahead of him and he was becoming distressed, his tail thrashing about behind him as he tried to find a way out. But then...BUT THEN! He heard the sound of footsteps. Not in the hall, or even past the barrier at its end, no...these steps were above him! There was something, something that could be walked on, past the roof of that entrapping tunnel. There was a slight repulsion coming from there as well, but the desire to be free of that prison was more than enough to overcome it.

---

In the courtyard above the prison, soldiers were gathering and preparing to make their way down into the prison and deal with those trapped within. Many of them had pikes, with which to better distance themselves from whatever horrible abominations might emerge, and with them stood the Captain of the Guard. He ordered the soldiers about, and had them forming various lines of defense with the mindset of attempting to break the charge of whatever came for them. A good number of soldiers clustered near the Hexagram, thinking that the symbol would repel the evil.

"Hold steady, men!" The captain called out as the soldiers set up in their final defensive positions, "you've trained for exactly this possibility! Long have we known we held witches in our grasp, and so you have prepared to fight them and whatever foul beasts they might conjure up! Hold the line and-" he was cut off by a number of cries from the area around the Hexagram and a quick look showed that the ground was shifting. Some force was pushing it up and then releasing its hold on the ground such that the courtyard surface rose steadily higher and then fell ever so slightly lower. The effect was greatest directly under the hexagram, and the salt was shifting about and blurring the lines.

"Stand back men!" The captain ordered, pointing towards the symbol, "form a circle, and ready your pikes!" He knew that the sigil had been drawn over the particularly powerful witch's cell, and he could not imagine what might be doing this. The soldiers followed his order, and soon enough over a dozen of them had brought their pikes to bear towards that spot of ground. The earth rose one final time, practically up to a grown man's waist, before settling back down again with the sigil intact. The captain was just about to give another order when the earth finally split open.

---

With a bellowing sound like the roar of a furnace, Ignace finally freed himself from the bonds of the earth. A great shower of dirt and stone was thrown about as the giant, fiery monstrosity tore up and began pulling itself free. In some places on his body he felt a brief, searing pain as small granules of salt struck him before bursting into flames. More slight pain came as the soldiers around him charged and dug the points of their spears into his thick, leathery hide. Another roar was given, and he lashed out with his muscular arms with such force that the soldiers were sent flying about in all directions and some of their pikes were torn from his body in the process. The heavy, dull thuds of armored bodies striking the ground gave him a better picture of where he was as he finally pulled his hooved legs out of the ground and settled onto the surface.

Out of the presence of the Witch, which had made him docile, he felt himself overcome with madness and an insatiable hunger. It had been so very very long since he had eaten, and now there were a great many meals about him to be had. And so he threw himself at the soldiers, many of them trembling or screaming in fear, and began bashing them against the ground. Each time he struck one down, the poor sod was torn apart by the jagged teeth filling his maw and devoured. Those that attacked from behind suffered a similar fate, being bludgeoned by that lashing tail of his before the toothy maw upon it dug into them.

It did not take long for some soldiers with bows to appear, and they attacked him from a distance by shooting arrow after arrow at his form. In response to the projectile assault, Ignace used the sound of their own weapons to locate them and opened wide his jaws. A jet of white hot liquid iron surged forth from deep within his body, and the archers were doused in it. They screamed briefly, before the heat and pain left them dead. Those he would save for later, when the time could be taken to savor his prey, but for now the guards were renewing their assault against him and he had blood to spill.

Andx · October 9, 2014

"So many things in my way..." echo'd Kyra's thoughts through her mind. There were so many glimpses of scenes of the outside. It felt like too much to take in despite being so removed from everything as she was. In all directions there were walls and soldiers ready to fight. The walls especially incited the rage inside of Kyra once more.

"Another obstacle. They mean to keep me from him..." she thought to herself. The words cycled in her mind again and again. These men and these walls intended to keep her from John. At this point she could hardly remember much about John other than his name and face. Why she had to see him was unclear but she knew it had to happen.

"I'll destroy them. Destroy everything and find him again!" Kyra thought and once more let out a horrific cry. She conjured another large sword now wielding one in each hand. She could see herself charging towards one of the walls, soldiers falling by the wayside. Their screams sounded in her ears as she passed. A large group appeared before her and began an assault. Kyra swung at them missing several and then felt a strange sensation as several of their weapons hit their marks. All she could feel was the cold metal. There was no pain. The strangeness of the feeling confused her and she could only react with more anger. She grabbed hold of one of the men and hurled towards the wall she had charged for, though he fell on the ground a distance before the wall.

"Nothing will keep me from him!" Kyra screamed in her mind. She knocked the nearby soldiers over with her swords and began a cruel assault. With each sword she skewered one of the downed men and from there proceeded to attempt to stab every soldier that approached her. If a corpse weighed down her blade she left it and created another to replace it. Often she would feel another injury but no accompanying pain and would proceed with increased rage.

Eventually she reached the nearby castle wall. And as she had done with the prison wall she began to swing her swords at it. But this wall was different. It was larger, thicker, and stronger. She could get no where with this wall while other soldiers still regrouped to attack her. Yet she attempted to break through it regardless, screaming all the while. The next glimpse came and suddenly something burst through the ground up to the courtyard. It certainly wasn't human and appeared to be on fire. Somehow it felt familiar. Not the creature itself but something about it. There was something in that direction that seemed to be calling out to her. And so she proceeded towards the new arrival to the surface thinking only of a way to get out of the place she found herself in.

Aix · October 10, 2014

The scene was some sort of surreal nightmare, and Hecate found herself in the middle of it. She had climbed onto the back of an enormous, aberrant fox, and, like a general surveying the battle, merely watched the blood fly and listened to the dissonant symphony of pain and terror. The churchmen and their pikes were no match for the Fausts, who had arrived out of the underground prison like a host of demons climbing out of the pits of hell. Their terror at the sight of these monsters left them without rhyme or reason, and the battle had turned to a pure massacre. Limbs soared and guts spilled on the blood-soaked soil. Hecate felt the beasts losing themselves to the sweet oblivion of insanity as they drank in bloodshed and instinctively feasted upon the death of the fallen. However, another clamour arose from the other side of the castle, alerting Hecate and she called out with her mind's voice for them to stop.

"FOLLOW ME!"

The force and intensity of her call, brought pause to the slaughter, and allowed a few men the interval to flee, but many were too far gone in their insanity to truly listen. It was the plight of a Faust's madness, and the first day was when most succumbed completely, ending up running across the countryside slaughtering everything in sight until the Witch Hunters tracked the poor beast down. Fausts were insatiable creatures, who were born out of dark emotions to bring about an era of ceaseless suffering and anguish. Few Witches in these modern days were capable of controlling them. But, Hecate was one of those few witches, and tonight was the night of the full moon where her power was at its peak.

"COME TO ME, YOU DAMNED, SENSELESS FREAKS!"

She invoked the terms of their dark covenant, pulling and tugging upon the strings of their souls, bidding them with all her might to follow. With Hecate at its head, a diabolical procession emerged from the castle to thunder off into the night. Seeing the river of blood and fire that remained of their comrades, the reinforcements had the sense not to follow.

~~~

In the deep pine forests of the Vale, Hecate slumped back against a tree in exhaustion. Before her lay the Fausts who had answered her call, and now who lay unconscious, tossed unceremoniously beside each other on the cold ground. Using the last dredges of her mana, Hecate undid the powerful madness that clutched them, but the curse of insanity would be something that would continue to plague them for the rest of their days. Sighing, Hecate felt too tired to even sleep, with the events of that night jarring her sensibilities. She stared emptily at the sky, and waited for daylight to return to this world.

Tesability Black · October 11, 2014

What better place for a general to be than upon a horse, or at least something that could pass as such from a distance? As Hecate looked over the scene as the madness, the Faust she was on the back off looked toward the guard he had grabbed with the whip-like apendage. Unlike the others, he had not yet consumed anything and figured that he would only be able to consume one whole human at any one go.

That just meant he had to be a bit more...choosy...about who he decided to make into a meal. The glow around his pendant began to fade slightly as the beast opened its mouth, revealing a set of fangs fit for a carnivore, though only two of its teeth were large enough to be seen at all times.

With a chomp did his teeth dig into the man's arms, prompting a scream from his mouth as the guard awoke from the sudden surge of pain. Looking toward the source, he saw that a decent part of his lower arm was gone with the blood trail leading to the beast that was holding.

"You sick monster," he cried out just before the Faust lifted a paw and allowed it to become surrounded by flame before placing it against the man's skin, cauterizing it for the moment. Instead, the beast opened his mouth again as he got ready to chomp into another part of the man.

"COME TO ME, YOU DAMNED, SENSELESS FREAKS!"

Lowering his ears at this sudden command, he momentarily closed its mouth to give the Witch on his back a frown before turning back toward the wounded guard, taking to a run at her silent command toward a certain direction as he chomped into the man's throat and began to drain him dry. The man tried to struggle, but the rapid and severe loss of blood was causing him to lose conciousness quickly, his heart slowing from the lack of blood to pump.

Soon the man stopped moving, his heart stopped beating and his breathing stopped. For all purposes, he was dead, but for good measure, the large fox chomped completely through the throat, the spine being the only reason the head stayed on the body as the beast crunched on bone and muscle before swallowing.

The pair, as well as the other Fausts, had entered into deep territory within the Vale, among a great number of pine trees. Fortunately, he didn't feel drained, due to his snack as he ran, but the Witch he carried...even now, he could feel how drained she was. Her breathing, to him, sounded heavy beyond belief. So, he lowered himself so she could effortlessly get off, which was soon followed with her sliding down against the trunk of a tree. Seeing the other Fausts suddenly collapse upon each other, mostly from being drained due to the sudden transformation into what they were, he too felt the need to pass out, his vulpine head landing gently into her lap because of how close he was.

While he began to revert to a more-human form, the shrinking of his size had moved his head off her lap and instead closeby her side, the ivory dove upon the pendant he wore beginning to glow brighter as Hecate undid the cloak of madness over all of them. However, some things about him had now changed his scar-riddled appearance. His hair had become tinted with a red shade. His open mouth revealed four teeth that had enlongated a slight bit into sharp fangs. He projected a slight aura of heat that showed how hot his body had become from the transformation. The contract that made a permenant mark upon his human form...

The Warden · October 11, 2014

The enormous rat demon followed his mistress carelessly, a strange thing for a man who detested most living beings as a general habit. As he followed the Witch up through the dungeon halls, numerous rats had joined him in a train. He hadn't even needed to call to them, as they just felt his presence. The swarm of filthy rodents rose the empty hall to a din of sharp squeaks, that only silenced when the door barred their way, which was shortly dealt with by another Faust.

Crawling up into the moonlight, the decayed body was like something unearthly had crawled out of a grave; and the wave of rats wasn't helping things. The armed Pikeman formed into a wall of pikes to prepare to strike the foul creature, but it had different ideas. Its fur vibrating again, the Black Cloud that erupted forth wasn't interested in the men, but rather the rat.

Upon each rat came a single Black Flea, that as soon as it landed bit into the rats. What came next would be imprinted in the survivor's minds for the rest of their lives, as the piercing shrieks coming from the rats pierced the bloodshed and screams quite effectively. The bodies of each rat melted and churned, as if nothing solid was underneath. Horrific sounds of snapping bones and ripping tendons pierced the night air as each rat was transformed into the very image of their beloved king. Gaecy sat back on his hind legs as the swarm of mutant rats surged forth like a wave of hair.

The pikemen tried desperately the stem the tide, but there were just too many rats. Those they failed to pierced leapt onto their bodies; the claws the Rat King gifted to his children easily gouging through their simple armour en masse. Many men fell as the nails and the teeth of the rats sank into their flesh. The blood curdling screams filled the air as the small platoon fell to the demon rats.

"FOLLOW ME!"

Gaecy snorted as he heard the Witch's cry, but a portion of his mind still wanted to continue the bloodshed. There were still survivors to be slaughtered, and none should be leaving here alive.

"COME TO ME, YOU DAMNED, SENSELESS FREAKS!"

Again she called, more forcefully this time. Obligated by blood, Gaecy lumbered over the bodies of slaughtered guardsmen, the rats following suit as they followed Hecate out to freedom. The crimson eyes gave a longful look towards those still alive, but all he could satisfy himself with was a death glare at them as he was forced to follow the Witch.

Deep in the forests of the Vale, Gaecy collapsed onto the hard earth alongside his Faust brethren. His decayed mouth let out a groan as his body reduced in size, hair being shed like autumn leaves as he returned to his human form, completely knocked out. The rats that served his eagerly coated his body with theirs, in order to preserve their king's modesty. However, he seemed to have a lot more hair on his back now, and his natural hair seemed a lot more fluffy and soft. He sucked his teeth in his sleep, as his two front teeth were slightly longed than they used to be.

Andx · October 11, 2014

Kyra had begun moving towards the other creature she had seen rise to the surface. But before she made it very far things began to become confusing. The glimpses of the outside had stopped. She felt as though she was still moving but what was happening she couldn't have said for sure. Perhaps death had come to end it all. But that couldn't be. Kyra felt alive. She had to be alive. She couldn't die yet, not here. Then something was different. The sinking had stopped. There was a light shining through and as it rested upon her, Kyra could feel herself rising to the surface for the first time. As she ascended memories returned of who she was, where she had been and so many other things. There was a strange mix of pain and joy to recalling all of it. There had been a voice and a presence. Something or someone had begun to pull her out of this ocean she had descended into. So despite the pain there was a strange sense of calm to it all. Then the calm transitioned and everything was quiet as Kyra became unconscious.

With a sudden shock and a gasp of breath Kyra awoke and her senses returned to her. The detachment had ended and it was strange to be fully experiencing the world around her again. And soon the experiences of the past day seemed to blur in her mind. She found herself face down on the ground outside. How had she gotten there? Where was the prison? She felt little strength in her body and though she tried to raise herself she managed little more than to push her upper body up a bit with her hands. She saw others around her but knew nothing of them and most seemed to be in the same situation she was. She then looked back at the ground. A strange panic set in as she saw armor over her hands. She couldn't recall why that should scare her but it did. She stopped attempting to lift herself and examined her hands more closely almost checking to see if they were really there.

"It's just armor..." Kyra sort of muttered under her breath. Had she the strength to examine things more closely she would have seen she now wore a mix of the clothing she had been wearing before and armor like what she had worn in the past when protecting her village. The armor itself was slowly disappearing but Kyra hadn't noticed. But somehow she had thought the armor had been her hand and not simply on it. That couldn't be right. It didn't make any sense. And yet something in her mind believed her hand itself had once been metallic. She tried to think about it but attempting to think at all only produced what felt like nightmares.

"These horrible images in my head... what are they? So many men murdered, horrible monsters, my hand made of metal, the screaming..." she thought. There was something terrible about what she saw in her mind. Something she couldn't grasp or understand. It was a horrifying sensation and the confusion and shock she was in fixated her mind on it. Soon though her fatigue took over again and a calm came to the storm of her mind. Sleep didn't come to her again but the lack of general thought was a welcome reprieve.

Asriel Dreemurr · October 11, 2014

As the other Fausts joined in the slaughter of the guardsmen there in the courtyard and the soldiers around them faltered and fled, the glowing fiery behemoth finally found time to enjoy those that had been cooked by a nice coating of liquid iron. He lumbered over in the direction he had spat his payload, taking the time to pluck the remains of spears and arrows from his leathery hide, to find them. The din of battle behind him and the cries of the dying and fleeing gave him a good enough picture of what was in front of him to find those. About ten archers lay dead, cooked under a liberal coating of iron upon themselves and the ground. Taking his time, he tapped his claws on each of them so that he could get a finer picture of where they lay and thus remember their location better. That done, a long tongue as black as his fangs flicked out of his mouth and licked where lips would have been before he picked the first of them up in both hands. The iron on this one had cooled enough to form a nice crunchy shell around the outside, and so he set about crunching down on it.

"FOLLOW ME!"

Ignace heard the cry and turned his head, half of the iron-coated guardsman sticking out of his mouth, in the direction of the witch. He certainly did want to obey the call of his mistress, but she was well behind him now and he had only just discovered how best he liked his prey. For the time being he put it out of his mind, and went back to eating. The first one went down relatively quickly, as did the second and third, but by this time the iron on the fourth had cooled far more and formed a much more resilient shell for his teeth to dig into. This meant it took a little while longer to finish this one, but finish it he did indeed. This was the way he would have to eat the rest of his prey from now on, or at least at every opportunity to do so that presented itself! He was drooling little rivers of iron as he made to eat the fifth.

"COME TO ME, YOU DAMNED SENSELESS FREAKS!"

Now that one actually hurt him to hear, and a rather loud whimper emanated from the fiery beast as he turned around, sat down, and waited for the Witch to make her way towards him. He was rather near one of the castle gates after all. Still, when the Witch and the rest of his new brothers and sisters came along he took up a position right in the front of their formation. After all, he could tell that he was the biggest and heaviest of them so there wasn't anyone else around better suited to standing right at the front and scaring off any soldiers still stuck in front of them. He did have a fair number of bits of flesh stuck to the spines on his body, not all of which had burned away yet but all of which left him smelling like burning bodies.

It was not long before they found themselves deep within the forest, a good ways away from both the roads and civilization but in a clearing large enough for them to rest in for the night. Noticing the others settling down, he did the same and made sure to be relatively close to Hecate. He certainly made for a fine source of warmth, and a fair source of light, for the rest of the group as they settled into a more docile state. Ignace himself was probably the last of them to return to human form, laying there stark naked on the ground as the rather painful process of entering his Faust form was undone and he went back to being human. Unlike with the others, he didn't quite show off such an obvious change to his human form. Everything remained where it was and, more or less, in the same state it had been beforehand with one notable exception. He was now significantly warmer than the average human, his body radiating a bit of warmth into the cool night even after he'd turned back.

The Warden · October 11, 2014

"Fffffffffuuuuuuuuuuuuuucccccckkkkkk me" Gaecy groaned as his eyes cracked open.

His whole body ached like a fucking bitch, and he had no clue whether or not he was going to puke from the tightness in his gut. Rolling on the ground, the corpses of the rats were tossed off his body as he sat upright, not caring that the Witch could see him in all his glory. "Would you mind telling me what the fuck that was all about?" he demanded from Hecate, the moonlight illuminating his annoyed expression.

Not really expecting an answer, he grabbed one of the rats and shook it like a rag doll. "Almost feel sorry for the little fuckers" he remarked, tossing the rat over his shoulder and hitting Ignace with it.

He grabbed another one and inspected it a little more closely this time. He turned it around and around to drink in the details, as his free hand held up the little scythe tail to inspect it. It didn't drip disease like his had, but it was still quite a strange development. "This is what I looked like? A fucking rat? Fuck me" he thought to himself as he tossed the rat away, hitting Ignace again with the corpse.

Mugendramon · October 11, 2014

...

This was so much fun. This was so much fun! Gregory could hardly believe the ecstasy surging while the bodies dropped! He was practically covering every lit inch of the underground complex with his shadow. He could see everything! Every one of his "brothers", "mother" herself as she came out of the tunnel. He could see every guard as they stood; some cowering, some praying, some even desperately attempting to attack the walls where he lay. Little good did it do, obviously, but those were the more fun ones to toy with.

And for every man he devoured, man did he feel alive! The shadow could taste the souls, their power spreading through his being as he picked off the guards en masse. With so many eyes everywhere, it was obviously difficult to see everything at once; a few things caught his attention more than others.

Like this lone guard. His eyes showed fear to the brim, yet he kept his stance rock solid. In the presence of the looming shadow, he did not budge an inch. A smile of malice cracked before the guard, caused him to quiver. The shadow bode its time, stretched tendrils in the shape of babies' hands to slowly reach up to the man. He broke, immediately backing away from the appendages whilst letting out a whimper. The many eyes circled around him, taunting and mocking.

This man had not yet given up, much to the shadow's amusement. He had backed into a wall, only to be met with a gnawing set of teeth which tore through his armor before he stepped off the surface. Toying with a single soul had just about gotten boring, so the shadow moved closer for the kill.

And in that instant, in a moment of clarity or desperation or foolishness, the guard knocked over the lamp lighting that corridor. Everything went dark, and Gregory could no longer see or otherwise perceive the guard. The shadow was forced back to the edge of darkness, unable to move forward. Gregory was afraid of this darkness. Every shadow past that black spot had vanished, as well.

"Mother" called out for his "brothers" once, now twice with thrice the severity. Gregory's pleasure was brought to an abrupt stop; with it, every extension of his self along the corridors retracted rapidly to a single strand of shadow carrying the shell along then up through the courtyard. "Mother" was pissed, the shadow could tell.

Now outside the castle, the many sets of eyes shifted between his "brothers" with visible disinterest. A black creature, looking half-decayed and accompanied by several smaller replicas of itself lagged slightly behind, staying out of "mother"'s sight and walking almost clearly against its will. Harboring no respect for mother, how unsightly.

Two more were generating light, and it pleased the shadow. The liberty of action this light provided was to the creature like being left to run through a field at ease; and above all, they shielded it from the immense darkness all around in the dark forest "mother" was traversing.

Another was shelled in metal, slithering mindlessly like the others, yet somehow giving off an aloof air. The shadow could not scoff, but would have given the needed bodily functions.

There was also another anthropomorphic figure, bearing a resemblance to a wolf. The shadow paid no mind, for it became focused on another.

The last one... was the creature which had stopped his movement down the underground earlier. The shadow made sure to keep enough distance from the creep it spread over the same grass Gregory the shell and Gregory the shadow occupied. At the same time... it was somehow, enticing, to feel the similarity between them.

Mother was lowered by the one carrying her eventually, and Gregory could see that his "brothers" started to turn back into their original forms. Gregory did not feel tired at all however. With "mother" looking too tired to move, and the others passed out, a childish urge began to gnaw at the shadow. It could break free, and eat everybody around! "Mother" was off limits, evidently; but his "brothers"? Perfectly fair game! Who knew how many souls they had claimed for themselves during the past hour? Maybe it was time to let go of mommy's hand. Maybe, Gregory thought with increased twistedness as the shadow squirmed and coiled around the sleeping bodies, maybe–

All movement halted. The shadow stopped dry, and all of its eyes froze whilst staring into nothing. No sound came with the reaction at first, but rapid eye movement in all directions was followed by a deep screech. Streams of light in every colour imaginable oozed out of the shadow's mouths and dissolved into the night air. The blackness began to writhe and wither, letting go of the sleeping bodies and causing its own shell to roll over to the ground. The shadow was angry, in pain, and quite ready to lash out in random directions; but "mother" was nearby, and hurting her would be against the covenant. She gave it life after all.

The pain was unbearable, but the shadow could not recede; the souls escaping caused a feeling too painful to ignore. Just as it gave up struggle and lay there in a state of mild dormancy to release the excess, the last fire "brother" burned out his light.

There was no viable source of light anymore, and the shadow thankfully accepted what it thought was death. It faded into the air, the last few eyes around Gregory narrowing happily as the remaining mouth twisted into a light smile as well. The blackness envelopping Gregory left him as well, curled into fetal position naked in the cold night air.

Still unconscious, Gregory puked rainbows for the rest of his sleep.

Maeriberii Haan · October 12, 2014

"Where is everyone?"

"No one else is here?"

Faint lights could be sensed by Alisa, only for them to immediately flicker out and disappear into the darkness.

Alone?

Why was she alone?

Still confused by the disappearing lights and saddened by her loneliness, a tiny light could then be sensed by her from a distance, something that she couldn't resist on following. She could very well tell that this one tiny light was completely different from the others she had seen though. Something was...off with this one, and she didn't know what must she do now to it aside from just following it. Seeping through nooks, cracks, and gaps, Alisa followed the light, and soon she could feel that she was outside, the blowing wind and the lack of ceiling above her confirmed it. She followed the light

through a forest, and into a clearing, where the light didn't move again.

But before she could manage to think about anything of what she should do to the light, the black ichor covering her disappeared as she transformed back into her feeble, human self.

"Ugh...this hurts like hell."

While still trying her best to wrap her head around what had just happened to her, Alisa felt a tremendous pain from the lower part of her body. It felt as if something big had rammed her there, and her legs felt like crap now. Being naked around strangers in the middle of nowhere was the least of her concern at the point. When she felt that her face felt weird, she tried to check it, and was surprised when it was completely covered by a featureless mask, something that she didn't feel up until that point, and oddly, she couldn't remove it. After several failed attempts, she just sighed, and decided to look at others around her, probably trying to find someone lovely enough for her.

Her eyes were immediately fixated to a fine woman standing separated from the rest. She was really beautiful, and she let out this certain air of wisdom and mystique, something that reminded Alisa of her lady. Though unlike her lady, she seemed to be less developed and mature , and she lacked her air of kindness and tenderness. Still, Alisa couldn't help but feel intrigued about her, but for now, as she was in no condition to move her legs, she decided to just look at her as a rat-like man threw around rats in a fit in front of her.

Super Chaos Sonic · October 12, 2014

Kodoku Na Junrei

The one who called Ywain...this siren who in a sense, casted her spell upon him, the werewolf of a beast followed the voice along with those who were in the same predicament...cursed by whoever this voice was...

However, to the beastial knight of the Vale, this surge of power was just phenomenal as he made his path through the knights and guards, slowly making his way outside with the other cursed ones... The crisp night air slowly breezed along Ywain's fur as he could sense it here: he was finally free...and now he heard that voice speak once more...

"FOLLOW ME! COME TO ME, YOU DAMNED, SENSELESS FREAKS!"

Heeding the call of this voice, he took his leave of the village behind him and followed the cursed ones towards the place where they would find this person...their savior that released them from their captors...

It wasn't long before the creatures...the Fausts, found themselves within the deep forests of Vale...something that the werewolf that was Ywain knew quite well. Before them, he saw a woman...to his mind...a maiden...oh but she was so much more. And with that...the werewolf of the Vale fell on the ground, passing out as the fur began to recede from his body...forcing him to return to the form of man...

Within the young knight's mind...Ywain recalled the events that had just happened...the transformation...the siren's voice...and even not killing the guard he had first saw upon transformation...

T-These images...is this what I've become...? Ywain thought, slumbering away the night that had found him sleeping with these individuals. Have I become...a monster as such my father was...?

Mugendramon · October 17, 2014

The first rays of dawn brought consciousness back to Gregory, and it was painful. He sat up with difficulty, then crossed his legs to hold his balance. Squinting to fight the sunlight, his head turned left, then right. Several people with minimal clothing dotted the trees around him. His eyes lingered for a moment on the figure of a woman (the only person dressed, he noticed with a note of vague embarrassment while looking down for a split second), filling his thoughts with emotions he could only think to describe as affective.

But that didn't make sense. Gregory had never seen this woman before, yet still the thought of her embrace made him feel affection. The scene around him seemed to not need to make any sense as long as she was in it... Gregory slapped himself along the cheek, and threw up as a result.

It was painful, almost as though his body itself was coming out through his mouth. What could possibly have hurt him so much– and where was he? There were clear memories of being imprisoned. He had woken up in his cell just this night. Had it been this night? How long had passed? His head was spinning, his hands fell in front of him to hold him in place. Retching violently, he looked down instinctively– whatever he had vomited just now was not on the grass, nor anywhere to be seen.

Gregory was naked, dizzy and in pain; in the middle of the woods and surrounded by strangers. They were all awake, looking much in the same condition as he was. He suddenly remembered the occasional sight of one of them– a prisonmate. So this was undeniably reality. The entire scene was completely nonsensical, but it was real. Only one person stood out however, this strange woman who inspired feelings he could not begin to understand. Regardless of everything else around, he needed answers.

He tried standing, to no avail; his legs were feeble and he tumbled as soon as he tried to support his weight on them. Attempts to call for her in a loud voice were met with a raspy moan and a retch, he was in no condition to yell. He would have to crawl. Slowly and with visible effort, one limp movement after the other, Gregory made his way through the trees to the wom... to "mother".

Why had he thought of her as mother, just now? He had to know, there had to be an explanation to why he felt happy right now, as he vomited naked in the forest; why was he feeling like a toddler stumbling over to their mother?

"Who... what's going on, mo– miss? Where are we? Are we–" Gregory's mind toyed around the idea with hesitation– "dead?"

Andx · October 17, 2014

Slowly the first traces of the morning rays of sunlight were penetrating the darkness of the forests. And though she hadn't been asleep for a little while, Kyra stirred as a small glimmer of light reached her face. Her body no longer felt heavy and void of strength and for what felt like the first time in a long time, Kyra sat up. The armor that had been on her had completely vanished at this point. It was strange to not see what she clearly remembered seeing not long ago. For a moment she almost doubted she'd even been awake before this moment. Looking at things a little more closely she also noticed her clothing was a mess. While still somewhat intact they seemed much more ragged than they had been the day before to the point where they probably wouldn't be of much use for long. She may have gone on examining them if something else hadn't caught her eye.

A high-pitched scream pierced the quiet morning as Kyra stood and began backing away from what she saw. There were others in the forest with her and most of them completely naked at that. She had no recollection of who these people were or how she had even managed to get into the middle of a forest whilst imprisoned. Her legs didn't quite have their strength back and so Kyra began leaning on a nearby tree. There was something other than confusion in what she was feeling. She saw there was one woman in particular resting against a tree. The sight of her inspired some deep fear like the nightmares Kyra had been seeing in her head. It was almost as if a memory were trying to return to her while she looked at her. But that was impossible, Kyra had never seen her before. And yet she could not shake the feeling.

One of the men that was there had started moving and had actually begun talking to the woman by the tree. He asked the various questions that were occupying her own mind as well. But that last thought, of them all being dead, wasn't acceptable. She couldn't be dead. She had to be alive. She then began echoing similar questions to the ones posed by the man. But more than simply what was happening, Kyra wanted to know why it was happening.

"You," she said pointing at Hecate, "Who are you? How did we get here? You know something don't you?". Perhaps it was unfair to expect this woman to know. She may well have been just as confused. But Kyra wasn't thinking particularly clearly and needed to know what was happening. And while it didn't necessarily make a lot of sense, she knew there had to be something to the sense of dread looking at the woman instilled in her mind.

Asriel Dreemurr · October 17, 2014

It wasn't until the sun rose that Ignace found himself waking up again, and he certainly was glad to not have woken up any sooner than that. He felt sore in places he didn't even know one could feel sore, but even though he was awake he didn't feel like trying to get up much less open his eyes. His stomach felt like it was turning itself inside out, and then going back over and over again and even though the ground beneath him was harder than he would have liked it was warm, and that blanket on top of him did a fine job of keeping the cool morning air from reaching him. Wait a moment. Ground...blanket...cool morning air?!

He suddenly jolted up into a seated position, and then went right back down as his entire body protested the action. He felt like he was going to throw up, and in fact he did throw up over the edge of the depression he was laying in. He didn't take the time to look at what he'd just vomited, but if he had he would have seen what just looked like a bunch of mostly digested meat with some sort of odd multicolored nonsense coming off of it. It took him several moments to overcome the sensations that had thrown him back to the ground, and when he did he managed to sit himself up more slowly.

First he noticed that he was outside, among the massive pines that covered the crushing majority of The Vale. How he'd managed to get out of prison was another matter entirely, one which he would have to answer later. Next, he noticed that he was not alone. In fact there were several other people, most of them naked and most of them younger than him by his guess. Still, he was able to recognize a few faces here and there from when he'd seen them being put into prison along with him. Alright, that supplied part of the answer: there had been a prison break. Right as he was about to start really working out the answers, he noticed something else.

"WHY AM I COVERED IN RATS?!" Sure, it hurt his throat to shout like that and he wound up coughing as a result of it but there was no other question that was more pressing at that moment for him to ask. What he had originally thought was a blanket turned out to be a massive pile of dead rats that had been chucked into that depression with him. Almost immediately, he began throwing the rats off of him in more or less every direction despite the fact that they were what had been keeping him warm for a while now. In the process of getting all of those off of him, he also realized something else. "And why am I naked in the woods?!"

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