The Gateworld: Exile (SoulBeaver + ShadowWake)

A soul bound in constant struggle to forsake its personal plane of imprisonment- a fruitless struggle. The keeper of this spiritual thing constantly wondered why the cocoon kept rocking back and forth in the field of magic that levitated it. Many times did the keeper feel the pull, the force of desire, of the soul in a certain direction- towards a destination.

Syste often pondered whether or not he should entrust his soul to himself, or let it rest for eternities in the gravitational field of magic. Either way became a risk, and the nagging thoughts of reward kept gnawing at his logic. If he gave up on this chance to find something, anything at all, then how should he usurp his past triumphs and ascend to a higher being?

Therefore, a determined hand clasped around the diminutive cocoon pressed it against his breast. The force of the press intensified until the first edges of the cocoon dug into his flesh and soon lost itself in the meaty epicenter of his elongated ribcage. Syste wondered if this should not have given him the capability to feel emotion once more, but his smile still felt like a lie.

Eyes scoped for the pouch of blood laying on a nearby stool. My barren home, he thought with no particular feeling, with the gray stone walls and the one room. He never felt the need for more, and whatever provisions he required were given by the local tribes amiably at
war and dying. Besides, pictures bore no beauty- only smears of color.

Of course, Syste did prefer the smears of color to the arduous walk out of his one-room house in the middle of a mountain. It did not annoy as much as provide a minor inconvenience in his quest, but, eventually, a stiff breeze announced the end of another hour-long trek. Indeed, after thousands of steps did the wind whip his pouch on his thigh back and forth, and the view never failed to provide Syste with myriads of objects to look at. A lot better than a picture.

He stiffened his body, locked his bones and became an immovable piece of scenery as he felt for the direction in which the soul pushed. Northeast.

Another burden bore the buckling mountain that strove to alienate his quest by sending an avalanche through Syste's path. The rocks careened just moments before he actually set foot in the deadzone, and eyes eagerly observed the path of destruction. Perhaps a spell to shield himself from such unexpected dangers would seem appropriate, Syste thought, but instincts mollified his cautious attitude. Danger does not pick a target twice by accident.

It did. Quickly did the sun move from a morning rest to an evening glare as a large massacre between the two aforementioned marauding tribes settled over a large clearing in the mountain. Syste would have called himself stupid to have intervened, and instead observed, again, the ways that the brutes handled their equipment and used sheer stupidity to murder one another. These quaint primitives resembling altered bipedal rhinoceri had such an amazing endurance that all four eyes fell weary after days of observing.

The end saw no victor, but a draw. Death rejoiced, and Syste curiously inspected the battlefield for a quick supply of limbs. Fingers the size of a thick tree branch seemed perfect for the task, and his teeth happily shredded the flesh apart during the continued march. Every now and again would the excess blood be spat into the pouch still rocking from the intense breeze that in no way showed signs of abating.

What happened after those hours, days, perhaps weeks, Syste didn't know. The memories of the trek blurred from that moment on, and the more he dwelt on the matter the more incongruent the events he 'did' seem to remember become. A quick inspection of his physical carapace revealed no injuries, not even on the cranium- Syste never simply forgot things! Impossible, he must have had a spell cast on him and deported.

But where? The surroundings seemed stark at best, malicious at worst. Bulbous black clouds gathered overhead, and he felt largely insecure out in the new green prairie. Maybe because danger had called his name thrice, or maybe because of the strange circumstance that he found himself in. Did he still remember his runes at least? A quick recall without looking revealed that he indeed did; only certain pieces of his mind seemed blank. Malicious at best,Syste decided.

Droplets of rain fell on his head, shoulders, and his hands soaked up the moist dirt faster than he could pull himself up from the ground. Disdain colored his face, but not convincingly. Shelter was needed. Whether or not his mind approved the idea of reaching the light specks in the distance did not concern him. Maybe when the insecurity slid off his back and washed away the dirt clinging to his hands and ass.

Tears.

Eyes the clour of an ocean reef stared at the grey dirt, but it was as though the reef had been torn apart – no longer did the jewels of the ocean sparkle with colour and life. No, this reef was as dark and as barren as if a great chasm had opened up beneath it, dropping it into an enveloping darkness as empty and as void as the heavens themselves.

A flash of red slid lazily across teal and, like the careful movements of an animal hunted, auburn arches shifted, soft lines creating mountains across the pale, unadorned flesh.

Tears.

Why, when she sought for memories, was there only pain? A foggy haze of images and emotions that curled and curved around the shadows in her mind like serpents made of smoke – indistinct and intangible. Someone must be very upset... said a voice among the darkness, Look at them all...

Obligingly, turquoise rolled upwards, focussing on the near distance. This isn’t right... said another voice, this time one that was strangely familiar. A grey band. And another grey band. But darker... That isn’t right... Russet curves bowed again, the image clarifying. Look... urged the first voice once more, Tears.

The voice was right: whoever had been crying had been doing so for a long while. Already the cool wetness was spreading from the shallow pools, merging together like some strange creature from a childhood nightmare and inching its way closer along the paler of the two grey bands. Stop crying... came the thought – again a recognisable tone – and this time there was an insistence in the inflections that could not be ignored: an irresistable need of survival that rang sudden alarm bell, clanging and clattering like those of the town.

Bells!Dry, pale lips opened in a sharp inhale, sudden clear images flashing through the darkness like paintings upon glass. Bells... and stone. Sky! And...

In a flood of sights and sounds and memories, the elf pushed herself from the sodden ground – rain-soaked hair clinging to her silvery skin like runnels of blood – an understanding and yet terribly desperate cry slipping from her lips like a whisper. Crya. Staring mutely down at her hands, Solstice removed them from the deepening puddle with a frown, teal-coloured gaze snapping immediately to her surroundings. No, she hadn’t been dreaming: grey sky, grey ground – and those weren’t tears but rain. A hard, heavy rain that stung the flesh like a thousand wasps, relentless in its torrential pounding and indeed nothing like the salty drops that adorned her own grey-spattered cheeks. She wished she had forgotten.

Yet where was she? Swiftly – for she seemed to have lost none of the agility that she remembered – Sol sprung to her feet, head turning in order to assess the situation. Damn that rain! But despite its curtain, there were no trees, no valleys, there was no sun and there was no towering cliff. No salvation. She didn’t need salvation. Not any more.

Tilting her gaze downward once more, the elven woman startled, feet taking a few paces backwards of their own accord. Water splashed around her calves, sending ripples into the hazy distance like miniature waves and chilling her feet to a temperature that was scarcely bearable. Never had she seen rain like this... Yes, summer storms had lasted for days on end – sometimes flooding the houses and carrying away possessions like thieves – but never had this much water settled within the space of an eye-blink...

Spinning on her heel with a frown, Solstice first checked her blade: faithfully it had remained at her side, sheathed in its protective leather, and abandoning the familiar hilt, she then concentrated on finding shelter. There! Removing her belt, Sol strapped her sword around her shoulder instead, setting off towards the faint flicker of light in long purposeful strides – already becoming a feat in the rising tide.

No, she hadn’t forgotten, but the time for salvation had long passed.

The amnesiac wandered for many miles through the putrescent waters that clung to his shins with the dedication of an insane woman forcefully restraining the love of her life slip away with her claws. Indeed, each new step required more energy to accomplish, and Syste realized by his hastened breath and beating heart that rest was needed. But the glimmering speck of light seemed almost further away than before, and-

All four orbits sharply focused on the illuminating shine of the village. A nod of his head instilled the painful realization; the village 'did', in fact, move farther away. As the seconds tipped by he estimated the distance to increase by roughly a couple feet for each passed unit of time. A freezing kiss from the water brought him back to the present, but Syste already abandoned the thought of reaching civilization.

To make things worse the storm invited gusts of wind to sting his eyes and muddle his ears. Droplets fell like arrows onto his skin and dug into the flesh with amazing ferocity that just heightened his insecurity about the situation. Where should he go? Syste quickly asked himself and peered around, but the shrill shriek of the gusts made it hard to focus.

Just behind him an unfortunate patch of bushes and infant trees drowned, and in front of him the terrain mocked him and expanded perpetually outward. A wall of rain and wind obstructed his earlier destination, an avenue of escape that closed itself off due to his lack of physical strength and late decision.

There Syste stood now. A titan of a human knee-deep in the liquory saliva of a beast too large for him to conquer, and completely indecisive of his next action. But would a personified piece of environment achieve victory over a titan? No, his own life seemed much too important to drown like a piece of foliage in the near past.

Quickly did four hands smear the sanguine liquid from the pouch over his body. A meek protection from the cold at best, but, additionally, the blue aura in his chest expanded to envelope him in a revealing light. The latter might not save him from the cold, nor the water, but it could only aid him if somebody spotted his body. He trudged onward.

On his left he noticed a plateau two sizes larger than him, and also retreating much like the rest of the terrain. A new goal, and his blotchy legs that now showed first signs of frostburn picked up the pace. Huge strides covered the distance faster than he could hope for, and the splashes of water bashed his endurance. Only a few more steps, but only a few more breaths-

His body lunged for the first jutting rock lining the vertical plateau, odd as it was spiking out in the middle of nothing, and clamored to it with a never seen dedication to survival. A quick look behind told more than any smeared picture full of colors. That water had amassed to a sea stretching out as far as his vision would let him, and the clouds now threw thunder onto the earth in untellable anger.

Maybe Syste felt fear, but the urge to quickly surmount the plateau and dig a hole into the soft, muddy ground became the biggest priority that ever mounted itself in his mind. Pants of exhaustion ripped his lungs apart, but still his beaten and now bloody fingers dug deeper. Eventually, after an eternity and a moment spent in physical shock, he dove in and secured his hands around his knees brought up to his chest.

Water started filling the hole...

By the light of the sun, it was cold. Wading waist-deep – her sword now strapped high onto her shoulders – Sol supressed the tremors that threatened to overtake her tired limbs and instead grit her teeth, pushing herself through her personal limits and beyond. There was a time – once – when she wouldn’t have done such and, indeed, there had been many times when she had. The life of a sky-fighter was not one that many sought willingly, herself being one of the few who had actually felt the position had been created solely for her and her alone: to feel the wind caress your cheeks, the warmth and strength of the Roc’s muscles beneath your thighs...

Frowning, Sol shivered, teeth chattering as she refocussed on the flickering lights ahead. Lips quivering with the chill, the elf’s shoulders sagged as she realised that her desperate trudging had got her no closer to the town than it had done previously. Suddenly enraged, Sol let loose a shout to the torrential skies, fists splashing angrily at the shimmering transparent surface that was the sea that continually threatened to drown her sorrows. Again. What had she done to deserve such a lot in life? To be cast from one hell into another of a different kind?

But the chill was creeping steadily into her bones and she knew that if she didn’t keep moving then she would die; pneumonia or exhaustion, it didn’t matter: one of them would eventually claim its due. So determinedly setting her jaw, Solstice settled her teal-coloured gaze on the flickering light once more: though now it seemed to have changed colour – a faint, washed-out blue that seemed closer than she’d previously realised. Using her tiring arms to help propel herself through the chest-deep water, the elven woman continued wading regardless: it didn’t matter what the source of the light was – where there was light, there were people.

----
By the time that Sol had reached the flat-plataeu that the light seemed to be emanating from, she was virtually swimming, her toes barely touching the grey ground and her sword’s preservation completely forgotten. Using the last dregs of her energy, she dragged herself onto the sticky mud, feet dangling in the water’s edge as she lay panting upon the cold dirt. And there were no houses. Of that, she was certain.

Pushing herself onto the balls of her feet once more, Sol shakily managed to stand, gaze fixing waveringly upon the blue glow a short distance away. She was here, after all – she might as well take a look. Stumbling unsteadily towards the glimmer, her only realisation of the giant hole dug into the ground came far too late: with a faint cry, Sol twisted to grab at the pit’s edge, grasping a handfull of slick, dark mud as she slid to the bottom with a loud squelch.

Face down against the dirt, the elven woman swore profusely, rolling herself over onto her back and meeting an even less amusing sight than the first. Staring wide-eyed at the hulking mass of a man, his glowing form tattooed in strange whorls and smeared in blood, Sol reached for the sword at her side, finally realising it wasn’t there and scrabbling at the sheath upon her back instead. The blade slid easily from its scabbard – a tribute to the well-oiled steel – and hand shaking with cold, she pointed it at the creature before her, feeling a strange, overwhelming sense of indignation.

“Who are you?” she demanded with a frown, attempting to stop her teeth from chattering and failing miserably. There’s even water here, she thought vaguely as her eyes scanned the man’s surroundings. “And what in the sun’s name are you doing sitting in a bloody hole in the middle of a rainstorm? Are you trying to drown yourself?! Or are you just trying to kill unsuspecting travellers who happen to believe in the faint hope that your bloody...” she waved her free hand airily in the direction of his massive figure, “glowing stuff actually indicates a place of shelter? Argh!” Her last shout Sol directed at her red-blotched hands, the fingers barely gripping onto the worn leather of her blade. “And what bloody use is defending yourself with a sword you can’t even hold! Out of one cess-pit and into another... what a bloody stupid mess this is!”

Slumping down into the pool of water at the hole’s bottom, Sol rested her blade across her knees, glaring at the misshappen form opposite her. “Well, if you’re going to eat me then bloody-well do so already.”

Syste eyed his visitor with much restraint. Not because he labeled her as a danger, but because it took all the restraint his body had to keep his suffering eyes focused. To make matters worse, the hole had already filled up with water to his ankles, and this woman just lowered the volume of it. Therefore, the four suffering eyes called attention to the mind and the mind labeled her as a simple inconvenience. One that could be taken advantage of.

However, the four-armed giant did want to set one thing straight, "I only eat the recently dead." The voice was rasping, forced, and almost completely drowned against the rain's cacophony. However, Syste did have an idea that needed no hearing. With a flick of the wrist and a half-present mind, Syste unclothed his patch of cloth that covered his groin and strung it over the hole's opening. Giant as he was, this only closed the hole off by about a half.

"Give me your clothes." Syste commanded, and this, even though it remained just as indistinguishable from the rain as had his first words to her, sounded strongly dictatorial. If they couldn't close the hole, then they would down in here. Not a fate different from the outside, but one that the altered human could struggle against.

All the while Syste tried patting the dirt over his cloth pieces so that the rain couldn't permeate through the thin fabric, and additionally tried to make a feeble roof out of the dirt. With four hands it all seemed to go fairly fast.

Then, one outstretched hand in her direction reaffirmed the dictatorial command, and he chose to completely ignore the sword resting in her hands. Besides, the chance of winning a melee brawl against the woman seemed fairly high, so if she chose to ignore 'his' words, then he would simply force her to give up her clothing. After all, humans had a habit of clinging to moralities even in life and death situations. Syste hoped she wasn't one of them.

"I only eat the recently dead," the great man stated huskily among the roar of falling water and, despite her exhaustion, Sol felt a deperate bout of laughter bubble from her lips, the sound more akin to that of the plain-wolves than the elf’s own usual tone. The woman rolled her eyes, hugging her arms around herself to maintain what meagre warmth her body had retained.

“Well, there’s something to look forward to,” she muttered bitterly, raising an eyebrow, when suddenly – in one quick movement – the strange man clutched at his only item of clothing and yanked it from his skin. “In the name of the sun, man!” she cried in startled indignation as she averted her gaze quickly, her turquoise eyes narrowed in a disbelieving frown, “You’ll-“

"Give me your clothes."

Mouth agape, Sol fixed the man with an incredulous gaze, the sight of the man’s enormous, bare, tattooed body completely forgotten. “What?” she spat, the single word holding all the venom she could muster, “Have you no sense at all?”

The hulking form ignored her – or maybe he couldn’t hear her from his position – focussed on the task at hand. Watching him in disbelief, Sol had to admit she was intrigued by his logic: the hole was filling with water which would cause them to drown, so he made to stop the hole filling with water by creating a roof. Or at least that was what he seemed to be putting into action anyway. Already the dirty cloth was strung across the opening, mud spattering down in fat droplets onto the elf’s pale face as he lifted each handful onto the seemingly fragile material, though apparently it had more strength than she reckoned.

As she was curiously considering his method of survival, the man turned to her again, holding out one of his four palms. Solstice shook her head incredulously, brow furrowing. “Oh come on... you can’t expect...”

Looking down at her shivering form, the elven woman let out a tiny sigh, meeting the lower pair of the man’s four eyes, for presently she didn’t care to think on which were the most appropriate to focus on. Setting her jaw, Sol’s desperate gaze switched rapidly to a glare. “If I die of the cold sickness...” she began, but what could she threaten? The man seemed to live by some obscure logic of his own: he’d probably just eat her corpse and think nothing of it...

Reef-coloured eyes sparking in indignant anger, Solstice stood, first sheathing her sword and the unstrapping the scabbard, setting it down in the shallowest pool of water available to lean against the muddy side of the hole. She inwardly winced: her sword – apart from her Roc – was one of the most prized possessions any sky-fighter could have and to leave it so carelessly to rust... Ignoring the bother for the time being, the elf focussed on the task at hand, peeling off her various layers and handing them one by one to the man’s four outstretched hands with a distinct moue of distaste.

Eventually all that was left was the narrow band of cloth that wrapped several times around her chest and, sighing despondantly, Sol unwound the material, avoiding the man’s gaze and casting her eyes to the make-shift roof instead. “Use that and the belt to tie the rest together,” she said soullessly, closing her eyes briefly in displeasure as she held out the long strip at arms length for the man to take it from her, before sinking down into a curled position on the pit’s wet floor, glaring fiercely, “And if I see any of your eyes wandering where they shouldn’t, they’ll be on the end of my sword-tip.”

Thankfully, Syste found it just all too easy to ignore the random sputterings of his new irritable responsibility. His hand firmly tightened around the clothes as they separated themselves from her body one by one, and, like the pieces of a puzzle, chained themselves together to make a makeshift roof. A rather shoddy one that still invited the water to pour down onto them, but at a sane rate at least.

As the artistic hands wound the fabric together as his responsibility suggested, he could not help but realize that crushing waves flanked the plateau from nearly all sides. But a last fistful of dirt obstructed the truth from entering, and together with the rain and the woman he comforted himself in the darkness- the lie that said, “You will be safe here.”

Now, the giant of a man slumped- crashed down to the ground and wheezed feverishly a few times before regaining his breath. One hand covered the mouth, and a sudden rush of fluid suggested blood; he spat it into his parched pouch before leaning his head back against the wall. And although almost completely dark, all four eyeballs clearly radiated.

All four targeted the woman. The examination of her body lasted only a few sparse moments and should not have awakened the suspicions that the four-eyed creature stared at her extremities, and much less out of desire. Instead, the image in his mind matched her every contour perfectly, but the impurities from the darkness left a muddy trail in it. However, Syste would have no trouble remembering her in case anything goes wrong, and she the reason why.

Meanwhile, after pulse, temperature, breathing, and various other paltry medical checks neared completion did he actually realize that another sound punctured the rainy cacophony. He couldn't be sure, but it sounded like something underwater, large and pounding. The sounds resembled thumps rhythmically beating around them, and their intensity grew by the second. Danger.

All four eyes narrowed onto his woman once more. They spoke the first thought that invaded his mind in an almost disinterested tone, “We will probably die in here.” A droplet of water ran down the nose, gathered, and fell.

The great hulk of a man finally finished his task, sliding down the slick wall to slump in a large pile of flesh at the pit's soggy base. The rain still poured in - soaking through the wet material and splashing steadily down in distinct runnels - but at least it had lessened enough for them to hear each other speak... or they would be able to if Sol could stop the chattering of her teeth for a brief moment. The stranger stayed silent, spitting a mouthful of dark fluid into the pouch at his side - a matter that caused the elf's top lip to curl slightly; she wasn't squeamish but in her land at least the people had manners of some kind. He seemed to have no passion whatsoever: indeed it seemed as though his sole purpose was to survive - which obviously Solstice respected - but there was no emotional influence to his thoughts at all. Certainly in her world - where intuition was often more useful than simple logic - he would be at a loss.

It was only after a while of shivering reflection that Sol noticed a low sound that had been on the edge of her hearing for quite a while. A soft thumping - like the slow pounding of a tribal drum or the steady rhythm of workers deep within a mine - one that was gradually increasing, both in volume and in speed. It sparked a memory of war and destruction - another she had wished she had forgotten - and suddenly, she remembered the sound that bore the closest similarity: the relentless thud of a well-built ram.

And rams were made solely for one thing: to force an entry into a protected stronghold.

“We will probably die in here,” the enormous man said dully, his ears clearly attuned to the same sound, causing Sol to start after what had seemed a long silence. Cold and irritable, the elven woman stood, initially settling her fists on her hips before abandoning the pose for one that provided more warmth - arms wrapped around her chest and abdominal region.

"While your optimism is certainly an enlightening experience," she growled through gritted teeth in an attempt to cease their chattering, turquoise gaze fixed fiercely upon that of her emotionless companion, "Don't you think that we should remove ourselves from a potential danger, rather than waiting around for it to happen? Surely your logic can see that much?"

Raising an eyebrow, Sol then shook her head in exasperation, bending to retrieve her sword and scabbard from the sloshing mud at her feet and strapping it securely around her hips. Tilting her head to the make-shift roof, she pulled a face. There was little chance that retrieving her clothing would either be possible or practical: sodden and muddy, it would weigh her down more than she'd like and if she needed to swim - which admittedly was likely in her current circumstances - then she would probably drown. In which case, she would just have to abandon her dignity for a little while longer. It seemed almost a shame ruining the man's hard work clambering through the fragile ceiling and into the open, but if he wanted to sit and wait for apparent inevitability then he was quite welcome: she, on the other hand - hands in his case, she thought with amusement - would rather seek a way out of this mess, even if it didn't get her very far.

Turning to face the muddy wall, Sol reached up as high as possible, digging her caloused fingers into the thick sludge as she lifted her feet to do the same. The hole wasn't too deep but had clearly been built to hold the man who had created it - a man indeed who was far taller than she - and a small amount of effort was required to remove herself from it. Climbing, the elf was used to - many a time her Roc had landed on a seemingly inaccessable cliff-face that she had been forced to traverse in order to reach him - but this wasn't rock and her hands were far from being warm, making the short ascent much more of a scramble than she'd have liked.

Still, Soltice gritted her teeth, forcing her arms to reach ever higher, dragging her tired body a few tiny inches at a time. She'd be damned if she was going to die sitting in a hole after a lifetime of struggling... no, this elf would die the way she had been born to: fighting to the last.

Throughout this entire time, Syste had not once consulted the cocoon forcefully embedded into his chest. It occurred to him that swallowing it might have yielded better results, but quickly discarded the idea on the basis that it might rupture his stomach the acid corrode his insides while the rain worked on his outside.

No, he thought tentatively, there must be another way. Both to this situation and to his ultimate goal. Maybe the girl could prove of use, but the way she suddenly teared at the makeshift roof and brought down his minutes of hard work seemed oddly contrasting to this belief. At least she'd make good cannon fodder in this state. Syste silently wondered how many minutes the woman would last without clothes before she entered shock and started numbing. Perhaps, when she loses consciousness, he could use her as clothes...

Syste thrust the thoughts aside as the dirt adhered to the walls, and one particular wet clump landed on his foot- it seemed to squirm away from him. Finally, the large man finally stood up as well and neared the woman as she clambered up and left. In the corner of his eyes the walls started to melt down like wax, and molten, wet dirt started filling the hole. He had not thought that the walls themselves would prove dangerous.

Therefore, his strong hands quickly followed the path his freezing cannon fodder made- a term he now clung to because of no other apparent use for her- and stood well away from the collapsing hole. Syste almost felt bad for ruining her source of warmth in vain. But the sight crushed those dwarfish thoughts.

Something incalculably huge made its way towards them. It stretched far beyond the reaches of clouds, and seemed tall enough to grab the stars. A literal walking mountain. Clumsily created hands thrust the clouds aside, and the strength with which it so easily moved the weather brought Syste to the realization that his own limitations never seemed farther away. An insane torrent of wind brought by swoop of the arm caused the water to wave over the plateau and drench them in piercingly cold water. But the rain stopped shortly thereafter.

Adamant about this creature, Syste thought of a spell that might bring him closer to this automaton. Nothing in his repertoire suggested the ability to traverse over a blueblack sea, but-

The lights from the city neared. From what the altered human could tell, it traveled towards them, towards the mountain, and it seemed rather suspicious. For what it's worth though, Syste did not think much of it though, as the mountain probably reached both them and the town in time to crush them in under half a foot. If even that.

Still, Syste did not mind either of this, not even when a black shadow in the water started circling them. The water itself started washing over the plateau, drenching their feet. Though the rain had stopped, the water still rose and threatened to sweep their last foothold away. Two eyes looked down to the naked girl for a possible answer, then realized that the town of lights coming closer pushed the water into a smaller area.

So there they had it. On top of a plateau bordered by a walking mountain in their direction, and a town that did nothing but drown them some more. They would probably die here.

Syste sat back down, the rising water the least of his concerns. Maybe he took the words of the woman to his implanted heart, maybe he felt his own need for survival, but just then Syste determined on thing: live.

The blue lights emblazoned fierily through the gray monotony and shone like a beacon in the night. All four eyes painfully concentrated on his hand dipped in blood as they did their work on carving the most intricate rune of his life just below the chest. His grunts bore signs of exhaustion, but neither his hand, his face, and his mind wavered before this struggle. Through the seconds they worked with amazing alacrity around the first preliminary circle. Soon the second hand joined in, then three, and finally the fourth all worked in perfect harmony with another to complete the rune.

Syste felt the rush of water on his waist, thought nothing of it, continued at the loss of feeling in his legs. The symbol started to materialize slowly, but the liquid diminished. On the last stroke.

He frowned. He can't remember the last time that he did, but this occasion seemed perfect for it, and disappointment not far off. A wish to feel it came over him, but instead an idea arose that hadn't before. Eyes bore into his fodder companion to make sure that she herself remained close enough for the spell. Whatever it would prove to do, it would have to do something useful, Syste knew it had to- knew that it would.

Razor-sharp teeth cut the skin on his lower arm, tearing it off and spitting it away. The last few droplets of liquid had come from his own wish to live and learn more, to become as powerful as the mountain itself, and the fruits of this struggle came in the shining red glow of a shield that surrounded both of them. Vehemently the shield expelled all the water from the area, and Syste peered with approval at the result. A blood shield.

“We can... go underwater with this.” Syste indifferently said. A distinct lack of strength prevented him from completing the sentence in one breath, and he, despite his best efforts, could not get back up without falling down. Too weak, the giant needed strength.

The mud was sliding from her grasp even as she dragged her exhausted form over the lip of the hole, the squelching sounds of her strange companion echoing dully behind her as he followed. A faint sense of relief wavered in her chest; despite his unemotive tendancies, the man's logic could prove useful and if Sol needed anything in this landscape, it was help. Heaving herself onto unsteady feet, the elven woman spun on her heel to peer through the shafts of stinging rain, goosebumps standing on her chilled flesh. But all thoughts of the numbing cold left her tired mind as her reef-coloured gaze rested on the great leviathon wandering steadily closer to their position.

Speechless for the first time, Solstice watched the... thing open-mouthed, long hair clinging wetly to her face in dark rats-tails. A limb stretched - skyward was a term she had difficulty using, for the being was already in the sky - batting at the deep grey of the rain clouds as though they were merely spider-webs crossing its path. A sudden gale hit them, drawing a wave that crashed over the woman's head and left her coughing upon her mud-spattered knees, but she noticed dimly that the downpour had ceased.

Slowly - excruciatingly - Sol pushed herself up into a standing position once more, staring blankly at the distant danger. Glimmering lights, she noticed dimly, were heading towards them - straight into the path of destruction - and the elf almost laughed at the bitter irony. Gentle swells were lapping around her calves like the wake from a boat and, frowning deeply, Solstice decided that if she ever survived, she would be quite happy never seeing the ocean again. A flicker of motion closer to home caught her eye as a dark shadow swirled in the waters surrounding their fragile sanctuary and turning her head slightly - teal gaze still fixed on the movement - she made to speak to the stranger at her elbow, stopping when she realised that he was concentrating on a different task.

Irritation changing swiftly to confusion, Sol turned fully, surveying the huge man in curiosity as he sat waist-deep in sloshing water. Opening her mouth again, the woman closed it with a shake of her head, realising that there was probably no point in voicing her query. Blue radiated from his form as he trailed his fingertip across his chest, following lines that seemed ingrained into him and it was only when the man paused, ripping into his own flesh, that she realised his ink was blood. Without a sound, an incandescent dome whispered up around them, giving the world a crimson-tinted hue and flushing away the water from around them until the only wet objects in the area were themselves. Immediately, the elf's skin was bathed in warmth - her limbs no longer surrounded by chilling water - and, despite herself, Solstice smiled slightly, eyes fluttering shut for a moment to simply enjoy the feeling.

“We can... go underwater with this,” the man grated between breaths, clearly far more exhausted than she had previously realised, and Sol's gaze settled on him as he tried to stand several times, failing miserably. His arm was bleeding - not too much but enough to cause further weakness - and the woman cursed her background, wishing - not for the first time - that she had borne he brother's skill in healing. As a compromise, Solstice wandered over to the caved-in remains of the hole, yanking the tattered strip of her chest-strap from the mud. Flapping it hard, she then removed as much of the dirt as she could with the edge of her blade before wandering over to the slumped giant.

It felt awkward - for a start, the man's head as he sat was around the same level as her chest and he was still glowing faintly - but biting against her annoyances again, Sol picked up the man's injured arm, wrapping the cleanest part of the cloth around the bleeding wound as tightly as possible. Avoiding his gaze, the elven woman silently slid herself under the stranger's uninjured lower arm, allowing herself to be used as a prop. It was a stupid idea - his weight was far greater than hers and it took nearly all her energy to help support him - but her clear morals wouldn't allow her to abandon him: certainly not after the event that had just occured.

"There's something in the water," she told him bluntly, still avoiding meeting any of the man's glowing eyes, "But considering we don't have a lot of choice, our only option it to head towards the town. I doubt we've any chance of getting around that..." Sol's gaze fixed with a frown upon the being, "thing - not on foot at least - so hopefully the town will have something we can use, either against it or to get away from it." She sighed. "Even if they know something about it, it'll be better than what we have now."

Finally dragging her gaze to his, the elf gave a wry smile. "And I guess it's about time you knew my name, seeing as we seem to be inextricably tied... It's Sol Aibhilín - that's Solstice but I guess neither one would matter. Any other ideas, or should we just get on with it?"

The pillar her body posed for his enormous weight weighed in a sense of usefulness towards Sol. Of course, Syste felt himself try far too hard to search for emotions from some abyss that did not exist in this world, nor in any other that he could concoct. Instead, he would have to face the facts; Sol aided him, and his own strength returned at a languorous pace. For the time being, Sol would have to suffice.

Within moments a reef extended many feet upwards a tall slope towards the town- the palpable glow came from a towering lighthouse that almost magnetically pulled his senses towards it. The drawback, of course, came in the form of an underwater adventure. The town and it's land had traversed so far into the sea that it washed over the duo's protective reddish dome and submerged them completely.

As expected, the dome started to leak. The all too familiar touch of aqueous substances trickled over his forehead, causing him to hasten his breathless, grating reply, “Syste. Let's leave.” However, contradictory to his own words, Syste first tried to gain independent footing and peer around for the nebulous cloud in the water- it did not present itself. Fair enough.

Syste slumped his shoulders and leaned against her fragile shoulders. Might as well use the offer, and escape, but... this struck him now that they actually had to move away. Time did not permit a thorough investigation of the spell, nor the perfection needed to complete the spell without porous holes that drip dropping droplets of water. Therefore, a wandering thought came along and asked the giant, would this spherical contraption move?

The answer seemed simple enough: of course not. The tendency leaned towards ill-fortune, but luckily Syste did not really care for it. A flicker of power, a mental connection to the energies of the dome to the energy balled in his riveting blue chest, and the link connected. Against its will the incandescent dome sludged forwards towards the shore, the only logical direction.

Meanwhile, the thumping became louder, almost a droning. Each step took almost a minute before the impact, and the water did nothing; a puddle, if anything, to the mountainous automaton. The shockwave sent tidal waves several feet high above them, but Syste could only guess their intensity. Severe, probably.

Refocus, the four-armed man told himself, and looked determined at Sol. His heavy breathing had stopped, the droning from the previous stomp had not, and the water only intensified this cacophonous torture. Fortunately, nothing remained left to say, Sol would most likely follow Syste for the sake of survival and the simple fact nobody wishes to be left alone.

Pushing gently, but probably painfully assuring, into the direction of the moving dome, Syste now started to place his feet one a little further ahead as the other, determined to reach the shore.

In the corner of his eye, from behind, he saw the cloud ripple from the shadows of the water, and follow.