Keres Leventis's Story

River had just laid eyes upon Kaula further into the battlefield, when she took a blow to the leg, a blow delivered by the same husk that loomed over her now. His teeth began to grind together involuntarily and without thought or warning his legs propelled him from the ground he stood upon, wings smashing down towards the earth once before tucking tightly to his sides aiding him in bursting across the battlefield, a boom sounding from his original launch point as dust kicked in to the air.

"Make it, make it, make it. Come on!" A blade swinging to one side. "Not enough time, Come on!" Several husks spun and raised their own weapons in turn "No!" He roared, swinging his wings back again in one last ditch effort, several axes, blades and shields swinging towards Kaula in that single moment, before another boom sounded and a cloud of dust was propelled into the air around the scene, and as the dust settled. River stood over his ally, one whom he called friend, his arms raised in a cross above his head and his back facing towards the majority of husks. A small droplet of blood rolled off of his chin and hit the sandy grounds below.

The Incubus had acted as a shield, the original husk's blade was embedded half way through his left wrist and a dozen other weapons poked through his body or lodged themselves into his rib-cage. Blood dribbled down from his mouth to flow over his chin, the crimson mingling in with the blood dripping from his previous wounds as parts of it slid down his bare torso. He'd of course left behind what little protection his clothing had given him, and so took the full force of the attacks. Whilst everything seemed immobile, the husks simply holding their blades waiting for him to fall, with a grunt and a cough that projected small flecks of blood something finally happened.

Thin tendrils of ice pierced through the small group, creating cross-sections and intertwining with one another as they worked their way through the husks flesh and armour. A web of ice eventually constructed and abruptly shattered, leaving dozens of wounds and shrapnel through out the immediate area, Kaula and River at its epicenter. A grin was plastered to Rivers features even as the blood finally began to pool at his feet, his entire body shook for several moments as he slowly lowered his arms and pulled the blade from his wrist and felt it slip through his fingers as they attempted to grasp at it clumsily. Large amounts of blood began to pump from the deep wound, even as he turned and his arms dropped loosely to his sides.

He attempted to trudge onwards, one shuddering step, followed by another, until his legs buckled on the third and he fell to the dirt, unable to move or do anything at all. Simply bleed, until his constitution failed him, if this was how he'd die then so be it.

Kaula looked up, she knew she was finished. She couldn't phase in this form, she may not make it. Husks surrounded her, and dodging flying weapons. She had to think.

Think, Kaula, think.

It was too late, the husks raised their weapons, they all were going to slay her in this very spot, and there was nothing she could do about it.

She summoned her shadows as best she could before.


Suddenly, a cloud of dust swirled around her blocking her vision, She managed to cover her eyes from the sand. She heard the clashing of blades but she was still alive.

The dust settled and Kaula laid eyes on her savior.

"River..." She breathed as he was bleeding viciously, blades lodged in his body. She didn't understand how he was even standing.

She started to move forward then something happened. Icy tendrils formed, destroying the husks that surrounded them.

All Kaula could do was watch. Soon, it was silent, River removed the blades and dropped solidly to the ground.

Kaula clamoured over to him, she pulled him into her lap, his head resting on her thigh. " You are still a fool, River. You will never change." She said with a rueful smile as she examined his injures.She knew her demon magick wouldn't do much to heal him, a healing spell would do but it needed to work quickly, and with this being a battlefield, there was no way, he'd be able to heal properly. She shook her head. She had to try.

"Laeha..." She breathed, her palm glowed a low purple, over his wounds. If only she had someone to cover them, then she'd be able to heal him without running the risk of being attacked herself.

Qwerty, aka Experiment 'Sludgepile', was having bitter-sweet feelings about today. Considering the recent events that transpired since he, though technically he was an it, having been transported here shortly after his latest success story in the murdering business, it was definitely the strangest day he had. This was a rather impressive feat, due to him being a sentient human-shaped pile of organic sludge wearing sweatpants and clasping on a pair steel pipes as clubs. Having gone through from a sudden series of rapidly changing events, Qwerty had ended up in the thick of a grand battle, perhaps even large enough to be a small war of sorts, and was loving every minute of it. However he was immensely infuriated when he was met with the sight of various husks being resurrected from the dead, while others that were already among the living were bolstered in strength, snarling in rage and frustration at the shadowy underlings, especially those that fell by his own hand earlier.

"You got to be f***ing joking! Do you b***ards have any idea how hard it was to murder that many of them? Sure it was a right laugh, especially the fella whose head I squashed by bashing the two pipes together, but they did tons of slashes and smashes and other injuries beginning with S's on me!? Granted some of them have healed up now, that's the case with this weird healing factor junk I got, but one of them tried to chop my head off! The c**t! If there dead, leave em dead, ain't fair otherwise you cheating cowards!", Qwerty babbled furiously, having indicated to various wounds that adorned his sludgy body, including a clean stab wound through his side, a missing toe, and the previously mentioned incriminating attempt of cleaving around half way along his long snake-like neck. It was obvious he was hampered by the numerous wounds on his body, his already cumbersome speed impeded as well as his advantageous strength, and though his wounds were still healing, it was occurring at a snails pace. He wasn't ready for being in the thick of it and he begrudgingly knew it.

As the husk hoard approached, Qwerty made the shaming decision to retreat, an action he never was comfortable with, but saw it necessary as he began lumbering towards the defensive line, grumbling under his breath as the shadowy underlings were figuratively and occasionally literally nipping at his heels. He hastily battered back a few husks that got too close, desperately pushing them back with his great steel pipes he wielded as clubs, as well as spitting clumps of acidic slime, as well as adhesive slime, in an attempt to slow their numbers, still scrambling towards The Nameless and fellow competitors striving to survive.
"This just ain't f***ing fair I tell ya! reviving the dead while im heavily injured is just a wimpy loser way of a come back!" Qwerty raged to no one in particular, now at half-way to what appeared to be an iron fence that wasn't there earlier, with all sorts of combatants fighting nearby.

The beginning of the end, the end of the beginning.

---

It was with a bang, and not a whimper, that a new being arrived to the field of battle. His stitched and scraggly top hat perching perfectly atop his head and a mask that hid his features jolting slightly as he thumped into the ground just ahead of The Nameless defensive line gracefully. His limbs not reacting to the fall he had partaken of from the outer edges of this material plane as he strode forward with the tapping of a cane held loosely in one gloved hand, it was mere moments after he landed that the entire ground upon his landing point was eviscerated along with the husks that had arrived. A cavernous hole created and flooding with the sands slowly as he proceeded to walk towards the main combat and its participants, a husk with glowing blade leaped towards him, and was swiftly met with an elbow to the jaw that surely would have sent the creature flying. Had there been any creature left to move, however instead the man lowered his elbow and continued walking with the world perpetually slowed around him.

He eventually arrived at his destination and removed his top hat and mask, propping them upon his cane which he lodged into the ground at the centre of the battlefield. However despite his entirely uncovered features no matter what way you looked at him, it was obvious he had a face and head, features like any other being, yet none could be seen and nothing was truly visible. Not even an out-line of hair, and yet it was certain he was not bald, his teeth and glowing red eyes were visible however, both horrifyingly sharp and equally able to rend flesh from bone. However it was with presentation of these teeth in an impossible grin as he removed and began the placement of these objects which began the beginning of the end, a strange dark aura manifesting in reality behind him, he kicked the cane up from the ground and allowed it to fly carelessly into the battlefield with his personal affects, and began his work.

---

---

He first launched himself into the nearest armoured husk, leaping into the air and slamming a knee into its skull, a hand reaching behind it to grasp its ally to use its own head as a pivotal point, a point he used to spin his body in a hurricane of kicks that crashed through husks and sent waves of wind that tore through rows of their brethren beyond the initial point. Upon landing he flashed far across the battle field and planted his footing solidly upon the sands, an open palm and rigid fingers meeting a husks spine as the momentum of his travel passed into it with full force, along with several thousand volts of electricity that chained across the immediate area, his eyes met a group fleeing to the back line, a monkey woman receiving the full penetrating gaze he laid upon the collective group.

He continued to flash all across the battlefield, elbows, knees, fists and palms colliding with husks at a rapid pace in dozens of fighting styles. Each impact shaking the entire battlefield or passing some form of power along through the enemy lines until eventually mere seconds after his arrival half of the enemies remaining forces had been wiped out, he finished off one more blessed husk with a flipping kick that left him sailing through the air in the opposite direction to its skull. It was with a light thump then that his top hat returned to his head and the mask landed perfectly in his coat pocket, the cane spinning and landing in his out-stretched hand as he floated above the remaining fighters.

With a graceful spin he landed upon the ground and brought two hands together, a clap ringing out that silenced all other noise as the man, or perhaps the creature ,placed its hands swiftly upon the ground, a dark energy flowing through its finger tips for a moment before it stood. Corrected its top hat and its tie and deftly stepped out of the way of a fountain of blood to its left, one that was simultaneous across the battlefield as the remaining army erupted into a fountain of gore and destroyed armour. An eruption that was followed by a shock-wave of shaking earth and immensely strong wind that threatened to blow away those who were uncharacteristically weak. The silence that had flooded the battlefield finally lifting with a roar of noise.

It was with this final hurrah that the man dissipated entirely, a piece of parchment floating down to a certain marble skinned Incubus bait within the field, containing a name of an inn, and the blood enscribed symbol that almost whispered its own name "Apocalys". In the distance atop the hill which all this had begun, the retreating head of a temple like Golem could be seen, the Grasslands clear of all its hostile life.

Null

Rest arrives in The Nameless abode, and gratitude arrives in the form of breakfast interrogation

---

There was no rest for the wicked, and so the good could not rest either, or at least that was the way he looked at it. Without pause Aizen dashed across the battlefield, a tapestry stretching from his original point and reaching the rabbit woman who lay mostly healed next to the corpse of her savior, an alien woman whom had healed her amongst the midst of battle. With a delicate sigh he slid her eyes shut with an out-stretched hand and slammed the tapestry's wooden end into the ground beside The Black Rabbit, picking up her broken form in gentle hands and lightly nudging the tapestry with one elbow. It had been expensive to purchase, but it would seem worth it as the battlefield began to glow, the remaining people and the defended innocents vanishing under the glow of a large arcane rune. The recruits taken with them for the ride as the large group stood in a rather extravagant mansion, or at least one that used to be extravagant, at the current moment it looked more worse for wear.

With a light huff he lifted a hand in the air and with a slam and click the mansion shut down, the windows closed and the doors shut and an arcane buzz ran through out the floor boards. They would be safe for now, or at least he hoped they would, a few of the younger nameless squeaked or sobbed after the ordeal and he took a moment to go around with the older members to re-assure them and comfort those whom had lost family or close friends in the battle. Eventually returning to his place as everyone but himself vacated to various parts of the mansion, ushering along children and teenagers with encouraging words even as they wiped the blood off of themselves, they had been through this ordeal before and it would not be the last time.

With his final reassuring smile given out, an angered frown hung across his face. His blonde hair grew out slightly and a beard pushed through his jowls to surround his mouth, a smokey grey colour that now matched his hair, he crossed his arms across his chest and stared down the group of recruits whom had stayed behind to assist for one reason or another. "You all stayed behind for a reason, but you're not out of the woods yet, I've got people to protect and I expect you to explain yourselves. The same offer from the recruitment stands, but only for those who are useful for more then just hitting, their is no room for cannons in a game of survival and I need people who can do more then just fight, people who have the right morals." He quickly affirmed, with a grunt and half a growl as he picked at a piece of rib that had pierced through his torso.

"Temporary lodgings are up the stairs and to the left, you each get a room to share with a person of your choice, choose wisely. Tomorrow morning once we've made sure we are under no further threat I will come to your rooms and each pair will individually explain their reasoning and justify why I should trust them with my people and to represent them in further guild games. If you make the cut I'll De-brief you and bring you up to speed on everything that's going on, and what exactly this world is, if you don't its the same deal as the recruitment. You go home. A certain red headed demon is resting in the farthest room facing the front of the building, those who require healing will find their lodgings sufficiently enhanced by magic for their particular needs." He said, turning without another word for a moment and heading between a gap that had created itself in the wooden stairs, stairs that now split into two pathways one to each side of the upper levels, as the gap closed and the stairs re-formed he gave the recruits a kind smile and half-whispered "Thank you, all of you." before the gap closed and he was lost within the walls of the stairs, unbeknownst to them immediately taking his place by the bed-side of a particular rabbit-eared woman, his fingers templed at a peak in front of his face, resting on an unstable thumping leg as he began his vigil by her side.

The recruits and any others that had been pulled along were left alone to decide their partners for lodging, the candelabra's lining the walls fluttering out as the flames died low and eventually extinguished to leave the mansion in darkness, after all the fluster and teleportation the mansion would have simply looked worn and empty and the darkness would serve to keep this true for the new comers to its fold, it was with a rush of wind that the upper west levels of the mansion lit up, a singular candle waiting on a table by the door of each lodging.

The battlefield was gone, and now they were in a house, a huge house. The posture of the Nameless spoke of rest, of safety. They felt comfortable in this place, even if the horror of the battle still lingered in their minds. Tiotio allowed herself to feel the same comfort, her body weary, longing for rest.

The leader walked among his people, his care and devotion to his followers obvious.

As she relaxed, Tiotio felt an animal instinct to retreat to somewhere isolated. To tend her wounds in a quiet place without being observed. She lept up and over heads, clammered up a large bookcase, and sprang out to a chandelier. She always felt safer at a height, looking down at the scene rather than taking part in it.

The chandelier swayed back and forth as she settled, resting her bo across her lap and watching down at the crowd below.

"You all stayed behind for a reason, but you're not out of the woods yet, I've got people to protect and I expect you to explain yourselves.” The leader continued, explaining they might still be allowed to join the Nameless, and that they would be given lodging for the night. When he was done he exited into a gap that closed behind him.

Tiotio considered his words as she studied the great hall they were in. Did she truly want to join the Nameless? It had not been her goal, simple knowledge was her goal, and she’d gained that. The Nameless where powerful, but few, and they faced great enemies. Without the intervention of outside aid, as in the battle, it seemed the Nameless might not be around very much longer.

The hall spoke of former glory, lost now to neglect. Cracks in the masonry were filled with dust. Webs covered most high surfaces, including the chandelier; white threads of it clung to her fur as angry spiders worked around her to fix the damage she’d done to their webs.

The man had mentioned the guild games, another topic she longed to know more about. She might gain the most knowledge about such things as a participant, and she might find no better chance to do that than with the Nameless.

Though she would have preferred to stay perched high in the chandelier all night, the mention of magics that might ease her body enticing. Below her people mingled now, uneasily, trying to find a companion to share a room with.

She dropped straight down, landing hard in the midst of the others, some staggering back in surprise. She spotted those who’d fought with her in the field, the little girl with the sword, magic Ivan, the beak masked-man, still caked in mud from their struggled against the rat.

It was appealing to approach one of them, but she longed to learn about those she’d not yet met. Her curiosity pulled her toward a strange figure who looked if anything, slightly bored at their surroundings. She was an imposing looking woman, with vibrant red eyes and white hair. Her skin was even more pale than her long hair, like she might have been carved out of a fresh snowbank.

Tiotio looked up at her, “Do you plan to stay? We might share a room if you do.”

It took him a moment to realize the woman wasn't going to respond, panicked as she was, possibly even in shock, He could feel the foul beasts weapons moving towards his wall of spiked death, the metal still red hot, it wouldn't cool for some time. It flared in heat with every breath he took, the cherry glow lighting up on his inhale and ebbing when he breathed out.

“That's not normal.” He said. He could feel it. This wall, these thorns, this garden of red hot death, it was his, he could feel it in his bones, like an extension of his own arm he could feel it. It made him sick, corpses impaled on the ends were being cooked gradually, others already having caught fire, even still, their allies impaled on what passed for his fortress, the empowered dead marched on them.

“Some fool is out there...” He mouthed the words, a laugh almost spilling from his mouth as he said it. They must've been on the way to rescue these two. He thought, a grin splitting his face in that moment, “Too slow~” He said, his voice a singsong tone, the day was weighing on him, he could tell. The cacophony in his head had died down to a low rumble, but he could tell, if he needed more, he could call it forth. The repercussions for him however, would likely be bad.

He could feel their weapon as it swung, couldn't see it, didn't bother trying. They would be pushed back soon. The stranger that is. Into the burning phalanx. In his mind their was no point in seeing a dead man. He would find it ironic in years to come, just how literal those words were.

Just as he was ready to write them off as dead, a reasonable sacrifice in his opinion. One life for three others was a logical exchange, cheating death in a mathematical sense, the stranger burst through a gap in the wall. Insanity! His mind yelled, who would leap between a pair of forge hot, razor sharp spikes!?

Wayland lurched to his feet as shadows slammed against his barricade. A deep rumble echoing from his throat, the noise in his head completely silent. He was waiting again, calm like a bomb, just waiting to explode.

He called to the steel around them, he couldn't make more like he would have preferred. He could move it however. Making the area nearest the newcomer and himself thinner, less the burning phalanx, and more the smoldering fence. Why can't people stay as reasonable sacrifices, and not endanger my life? He joked internally

He used the excess to enshroud the wounded man and the woman with him in a metal dome resembling the closed bud of a flower. He reinforced it to the best of his ability, drawing the heat out as not to cook them, that done he turned his mind back to the battle.

Wayland was spent. Wayland was content, content to let this man fight as he watched, using the tiny power he had left to keep the wall up, and that was it. Well, if they do get in here, I can always retreat inside the flower. He thought, patting the surface of the now cooled construct proudly. I've done enough fighting for one day.

It wasn't much later, as he could feel the wall around them ready to collapse that he was preparing to retreat to secondary defensive position B, codenamed the flower in his head. It was actually only named, and codenamed in his head, but that was irrelevant. He'd admit the guy was a decent fighter. He could see that in his shovel, see part of the mans history in it, but that was irrelevant also. Not his past, and he never intended to fight using a shovel.

Anyway, his mind was wandering. He was slipping, so damned tired, he blinked, and stumbled forth in shock, he'd slumped against the flower asleep, in the middle of a battlefield. He couldn't see the shovel guy anywhere, so, either he was dead, or judging by the number of bodies, and the lack of sound across the field the battle was over, and he had slept through the end of it.

He shrugged, leaning back against the flower. Waiting for enough juice to return for him to let the people within out, when a glow ran across the ground beneath him, lighting up in some arcane language he'd never seen before. “That's not-” His words cutting off mid-sentence as he was once again forcibly teleported across space to a new location. “-normal.”

He'd found himself in an unfamiliar setting. The room, presumably even the whole house, once beautiful was now in a terrible state of disrepair. Cracks ran through the walls from the foundation settling, places where the ornately carved wood paneling should have been gilt in gold, silver, or other precious metals were bare, most likely torn loose to keep the obviously hard hit guild fed. He could understand that, what does it matter if you have the most beautiful home, if you yourself were starving to death in it?

He was too tired to flinch when the house locked down, seemingly by magic, too tired to question the fact that a few hours ago, he had though he was unique. Too damn tired to be lectured by the very people/person that had had them dragged into the conflict in the first place.

“Bullshit.” Wayland spat as the old man had his say, and wandered off to god knows where. He made his way up the stairs, ignoring the still slight smoldering of his clothes, barely acknowledging anyone around him. He didn't even notice the lack of smoke from his mouth, or the odd chill in his body.

He nodded at the few people he recognized, from the battle and ignored those he didn't. His eyes lingered for a fraction of a second longer than he would normally consider decent on a certain silver haired woman, following her every move, igniting something primal in him. He found himself thinking about that as he shook off the alien feeling in his head, telling him to take her.

Between voices, hammers, and beautiful women. It was a wonder he was coherent at all. Those were Wayland's last thoughts before he crashed in the first empty room he came across.

It was an ordinary day, filled with ordinary happenings. Monsters sprouted from the shadows, a monkey saved lives, a cat lady was attacked by a hunk of metal, a humongous rat tossed aside magical creatures, a grave digger helped the living survive, she made a deal with an unstable top hat and an incubus with the appearance of an angel - who was also her hunt - kissed, and saved her. Mmm, maybe not so ordinary.

Still, Keres found her attention drifting, perhaps in part to her curious upbringing. In Mithrandír, the realm of the Elves, time passed differently, sixteen years in Mithrandír might be a thousand outside of it, or two. Thus the ivory haired girl had a strange and distorted perception of time. She felt the events before her stretch with excruciating slow motion and eventually, she ignored it altogether. The crimson symbols coiling around her body repelled the magic and chaos that flew about her without much of Keres' conscious effort. The war about them seemed to miss where she stood, nonchalant, by pure coincidence. It was anything but.

She was dimly aware of the Mad Hatter appearing to protect the Nameless from her wild comrades and she pondered upon his peculiar intentions. Who was he? Who was he to River, in particular? That he would hire a cruel creature such as herself for intel? Hah, imagine if they were father and son, she mused. The Beauty and the Beast. Keres had been gifted with keen instincts for as long as she could remember. She was abnormally perceptive, and all she knew was that if she succeeded, Apocalys would grant her her deepest, truest, oldest desire.

Freedom.

---

“Do you plan to stay? We might share a room if you do.”

Keres batted the boredom out of her eyes as they darted around in search of the origin of the voice only to find she was no longer in that crumbling world. Cracks danced along creaking walls and faded tiles as light flickered every few feet, illuminating worn doors. Her nose twitched at the unpleasant concoction of damp, old wood, metallic blood and salty sweat. Taverns overwhelmed by burly, sweaty, bloodthirsty and woman loving men smelled better than this.

Then she found the origin of the voice, a slight, animalistic figure. Well, she thought. This certainly might make it to the top ten list of strangest events of today. Did she want to share a room with this monkey? No, not particularly. She quite liked her solitude and she wasn't particularly sexually attracted to the figure before her to want to share her chambers with it. Yet it was likely that it had information for Keres that would prove useful. She was, after all, meant to assimilate into the Nameless recruits. The tattooed girl's features shifted, her lips unfurling into a warm grin that revealed two rows of white teeth and a dimple in her left cheek. She looked like a different person.

"Of course," she replied with a voice like honey. "I'm Keres," she introduced with a swift curtsy. "And you are?"

She noticed then a towering male stumbling about and crashing into an empty room. Keres raised a sculpted brow at his clumsiness. She manoeuvred her features into one of concern, her brows furrowed in worry. "Are you alright, sir?" she called out, taking a few steps toward him. He did not look well in the least, more so than even all the other weary figures. "Do you require help?" Alas, years of sitting, bored out of her mind, through Elvish High Court proceedings came to her aid. The countless curtseys and forced smiles had not gone to waste. Keres was a marvellous liar.

The Nameless would not know what hit them until it was much too late.

The white woman’s face glowed with a blinding smile. Tiotio could not help but smile in return, feeling welcomed by the kindness she saw.

"Of course," the white woman said. "I'm Keres," she bent in a graceful courtesy, "And you are?"

Before Tiotio could answer, Keres turned her attention to another recruit, one who looked in need of aid. The concern was so evident in her voice and posture that Tiotio almost felt bad for not noticing how many others were in need of care. She wondered if this woman was a healer.

But Tiotio was no healer and could not be expected to care for the others. Though Tiotio could ignore her pain and injury during battle, her body was broken in so many places, and meditative hum of battle was no longer distracting her. Her curiosity could not overwhelm her physical need.

“I am Tiotio,” she said to the Keres, “and I’ll secure us a room. I need to recover. I will go there now. If, when you arrive, you wish to speak further, please do not hesitate to disturb me.”

She darted across the room, casting quick glances at the other recruits as she passed, recalling suddenly that this had all started with a game that had meant to pit them against each other, to fight each other for a place among the Nameless. She realized now, that game might still be going on.

She noticed the beak-masked man and the small girl talking to each other, she leapt over them, patting the man on the top of the head in a friendly gesture before turning down a hallway and entering a small room.

Two identical beds sat on either side of the room. There was a small wash basin on a table between them. Small bookshelves hung from the walls above each bed, bare, except for piles of dust and dead insects.

Instantly Tiotio could feel the magic the Nameless leader had spoken of. It made her drowsy, like a warm wave flowing through here, luring her to sleep.

She did not succumb, thinking about the game, about the challenge set on them by the Nameless. Surely the attack only strengthened their desire for worthy recruits, and with their test interrupted, they would find other ways to sort through those who remained.

Rather than let the warm waves now rippling through her lull her into the bed, Tiotio scrambled up the wall and perched on the narrow bookshelf. She rested her bo across her lap and closed her eyes, pushing her mind into a shallow meditative state, allowing her thoughts to peter out until emptiness filled her mind.

It seemed like he had only been asleep for seconds when a voice like warm honey ran through his head, washing away his drowsiness with a strangely warm buzzing, asking after his own well being.

He could tell it hadn't been long by the sound of the other recruits still getting settled in, visiting with one another, or breaking down, and crying. There are worse ways to wake up. He decided, as he hoisted himself onto his side, then into a rough sitting position using the last of his strength.

It was the woman from before, the one that he'd seen downstairs talking to the simian woman. Her ethereal beauty as vibrant as ever, near taking his breath away as she took a graceful few steps towards him.

Do I require help? He thought, glancing at his surroundings. Noting his place on the floor, and his seeming inability to stand under his own power. His body felt so heavy, and he was cold. Something he hadn't felt in a long time.

He mustered up the energy to give her his best smile, a cocky half grin, coupled with his tiredness. “I could use help into one of these beds.” He finished his sentence with a slight jerk of his head towards the closest bed in the room.

“I am Tiotio,” the monkey replied, her expression as polite and unyielding to emotion as ever. “and I’ll secure us a room. I need to recover. I will go there now. If, when you arrive, you wish to speak further, please do not hesitate to disturb me.”

This animal speaks with better grammar than I do, Keres thought with a wry smile that she masked with a flutter of her sleeves. The chiffon material rippled with every flicker of her wrist and the butterflies beaded into them batted their wings at Tiotio. Keres lowered her arm and gave her newly gained roommate a gentle smile. "Of course. You must be worn. Rest well, Tiotio," Keres said before the creature went away with an uncanny grace. Not soon after, the man who'd stumbled into a room replied.

“I could use help into one of these beds,” he rumbled, his voice low and full even in injury. He had a fiery presence to him, a gaze like molten fire, a body rough around the edges and a face carved in sharp lines and stubble. If that were not enough to rustle her curiosity, his wicked grin was. She'd seen many men and women, human or otherwise, in her long, long stretch of existence - the devastation she'd endured when she awoke to a world withered and renewed whilst she'd stayed still. So. Very. Still. The weaving of bitterness and cockiness in his smile was one she recognised. He was a man who'd lost someone - perhaps more than just one - and there was nothing more dangerous than a man who'd lost a part of himself. She would be careful. She watched him for a few milliseconds, her assessing gaze imperceptible to anyone but the truly observant and experienced, as she attempted to pin his face to the images she'd gathered of the Nameless recruits.

Ah, Brimstone. Metal Man.

Keres had heard much about him. Rumours of course, but all lies had truth, if you could read between the lines. She replied him with her own entrancing, dimpled smile, furrowing her neat brows into one of concern. She hastily rushed toward him, his hands gently wrapping around his. Keres wrapped one of his arms over her shoulders as one of her own wrapped around his waist, and the other gripped the hand around her. "I apologise if this hurts," she said gently before hauling them both onto their feet with effort. "My," she huffed. "You are heavier than you look."

They stumbled to the nearest bed and she released him onto the mattress, gulping in breaths. Keres laughed, a small, ironic melody. "I expect to be carried much more elegantly by you should I require it, soldier," she teased. Keres pressed a hand over her mouth as a soft yawn slipped through. "Sorry," she mumbled, her mouth feeling heavy. She stumbled from foot to foot, blinking slowly as she gazed around the room. The crimson tattoos swirling around her arms shifted restlessly but ever so slightly, like livings things, trying to push the magic from her body. Keres reigned them in, not wanting to alarm the tall Nameless recruit. Not yet, she told the magic humming beneath her skin. Do not show them your power. Not yet. Besides, she was tired. Fingers poked and prodded at the edges of her vision. All magic has a price. And this is mine.

In order to follow River - whom she was certain would make it amongst the Nameless - and to infiltrate the guild, she must become a Nameless. Keres had to pass this phase of the mission. There was so much she wanted, but one above all else, and only Apocalys could give it to her. She would win, whatever the cost. Whoever Keres had to befriend, whoever she had to kill, she would.

"I should go," she muttered to Brimstone or herself. She turned her head to the weary figure on the bed as if seeing him for the first time, ivory strands slipping over her shoulder. Keres glowed in the darkness like a white angel - or a ghost. She tugged the blanket over him and appeared to absently brush his dark hair from his face. He's quite handsome. "Rest well."

---

When she took her first step into her room, she saw nothing. Where is the monkey? There. Keres kept her gaze atop a bookshelf and observed for a while the small figure. She took the bed closest to the door, folding her legs and resting her head on a knee. Keres wondered if she should disturb her roommate or simply leave her be. The answer was clear. She needed information and she needed alliances to be formed.

"So what is your story, Tiotio?" she asked softly as to not startle the still figure. "What brings you to these deadly tournaments?"

Soft hands, he thought as she took his in hers. She pulled his arm over her shoulder, and he gently, but firmly embraced it, bracing himself against her body as she snaked a slender arm around his waist. A silky hand once again on one of his hands, the one around her shoulder.

I should nearly kill myself more often. He thought, a wry grin stretching across his face, as with effort on her part, she hefted him onto a bed. He missed her words due to his exhaustion, not catching them again until he had settled into the mattress.

"I expect to be carried much more elegantly by you should I require it, soldier,"she teased. He laughed, a deep rumble echoing out from his chest, grinning at her tiredly, eyes flaring in time with his heart beat.

“But of course, Milady. It would be my honor, to carry you any where you like.” He grinned at her, the same as before, not sure she'd heard him, as she yawned, something like static buzzing in the air for a moment, before it was gone, almost as if he'd imagined it.

He blinked slowly, not entirely surprised when she said she'd go. She looked dead on her feet. He could sympathize. He'd called it ethereal beauty before, but there, in that room, in the black of night, he was enraptured by it, by her glowing skin, and her hair, like liquid moonlight, or threaded silver. He held his breath, too exhausted to move as she pulled the blankets over him, his head leaning into her hand as she moved aside his hair.

I really should ask her name... Was his last thought before sleep.

Wayland slept soundly that night, for the first time in years, he slept without nightmares a content smile on his face. Only time would tell if he could keep it, or if war, and betrayal would drive him to madness.

Following her thoughts until they ended, allowing her mind to pass into a state of blank peace, was only the first part of Tiotio’s meditations. Once that state of formless calm had been achieved she began slowly bringing in the events of the last day. It was a delicate process, and for those unskilled it was easy to confuse the mind, to destroy the trance by becoming too engaged with the memories. But Tiotio was long practiced, and could sort through the sounds, faces, feelings, and events with a detached, objective eye.

In this way she was able to make sense of the chaos of the battle, the confusion of the game. She put faces to actions, and learned about those who now shared her path.

"So what is your story, Tiotio?" Tiotio’s eyes opened instantly. Keres was in the room, folded over herself on the far bed, "What brings you to these deadly tournaments?"

“A letter fell on my head.” Her tone was conversational, as if there had been no break between their introduction and now, her eyes showed no sign of haze or confusion as she snapped from one state of consciousness to another. “Did a letter fall on your head?”

Before Keres had time to form and answer, Tiotio continued recalling details, “You came later than the others, didn’t you? You appeared on the field, never went into the maze. I killed a dwarf in the maze. Well, they told us people wouldn’t die there, but I hit him in the head very hard and I would expect that killed him.” She tilted her head to the side, observing the pale woman on the bed, “Then you flew in the air, after you were on the field, with the red haired boy. That was strange. I didn’t help us much while we were fighting, why did you do that?”

Qwerty stood there silently seething, seeming to be the least in peoples interests despite his bellowing, and, arguably warranted, was ignored quite a bit. He grumbled under his breath as he sulked in a spot away from the other competitors, a scowl of discontent upon his face as watched his competition. He had tired to be social, a task he had always been futile in if it was not directly involved with excessive violence or acts of gluttony, but yet again his attempts to raise some friendly interest toward shim were dashed aside, though he was completely oblivious to how hostile he sounded, and very much hindered by his coarse language.

He kept his glare as he watched the occurrences around him. A man reeking of smoke and wearing a long black trench coat wandered deliriously off to find a room of his own, as a pale skinned woman with a number of red tattoos adorning her body ask after the said man in concern, after having previously greeted a talking monkey that scampered off to pick a room also. Qwerty merely took note that none of them apart from the pale white haired woman looked pretty tasty to eat, though then remembered the guild leader would probably be pretty upset if he ate any of the contests. On the bright side he overheard two of their names; Keres and Tioto. He also noticed some bloke holding a shovel and reeking of death talking to a teenage girl and for some reason, some thin air that appeared to be holding up most of the other conversation. Qwerty decided these two were the barmy ones that enjoyed having in-depth conversations to things that weren't there, being completely oblivious to the very real existence of Myon, Aera's soul half. The fancy looking robed fella with silvery hair seemed to have slipped away without Qwerty realizing, as he saw that he was very much ending up as the only one left standing around without a room of his own.

He reacted to this fact with stroppiness, throwing his pipes to the ground in frustration and letting out a snarl until he decisively picked the pipes back up clumsily as he carefully tried to retain his balance when retrieving them. "Fine then, I'll just have my own room, you d**kheads.", the blob monster aggressively blurted as he began making his way to find a room to rest in for the night, lumbering along with his pipes yet again utilized as crutches, glaring at the competitors he passed on the way. As he did he suddenly had the whole 'test' situation on his mind, the word itself leaving a bad taste in Qwerty's gelatinous maw.
Hell, i'm probably going to fail miserably in this speech stuff that ripped guy wants out of us. Need to think of some lies to say. I definitely ain't going to tell him 'that' though. Nope, no way, even if it does have a better shot of getting me in., he thought in his simple brain, becoming uncharacteristically unsure of himself, feeling very much out of his comfort zone suddenly.
He then knocked upon one of doors with a great heavy fist, demanding; "Hey, anyone in there? And any space left? Better be f***ing honest if there is or not!", his voice filled with venom, but obviously had strain from exhaustion, his lack of energy having to begun catching up on him.

"That looks like a problem... Do you need help with anything? I can't fix the armor but I could maybe help with the injuries..."

Myon looked at the damage which had been done to him and suddenly flew over to a now sleeping Aera. Noting the still present knife blade in the thigh, she panicked. Jumping to the worst possible conclusion, that it would get badly infected and then lose the leg entirely.

Frantically flying about, she accidentally flew into a wall with....no sound at all as she flew through it. Much to her surprise she ended up in between the wall, unable to pass through what is behind it. She tried reentering her and Pravus' room but couldn't find it as she was lost.

"Oh no.....Who is going to believe this one? A phantom getting stuck in a wall. As if I have not caused enough problems, now there is going to be complaints about a phantom making noise in the wall. Why can't I fly through it?? I-It's so dark a-and scary.... Help me please!?"

She continued her cry for help which was muffled to anybody not inside the wall. To make things worse, she was flying around the building, passing by or through the rooms by the dark corridors which were the inside of the walls. Her cries must have disturbed a lot of people and she hoped nobody would be mad as she continued to look for a wall she could pass through. Perhaps the same energy which allowed her to take physical form is also preventing her from using her spectral form's ghostly abilities? Not that it mattered, all that really mattered was for her to get out of the walls before somebody punches a hole in one to shut her up.

(Null))

“A letter fell on my head.” It took all of Keres' effort not to burst into laughter. It was not so much the words but the way the monkey had said it, her expression as still as a solid, concrete wall. She imagined a letter falling on Tiotio's head and her reaction, utterly devoid of surprise. Keres had better be careful, this Tiotio could grow on her. “Did a letter fall on your head?” Keres quickly lost her humour but before a lie could form on her lips, Tiotio continued. Thank the stars.

“You came later than the others, didn’t you?" Oh dear. "You appeared on the field, never went into the maze." Already the lies began to navigate themselves in her head. She'd spent so much of her speech on dishonesty that now it came easily, her face like clay, detached from her thoughts. "I killed a dwarf in the maze. Well, they told us people wouldn’t die there, but I hit him in the head very hard and I would expect that killed him.” Keres raised a brow. “Then you flew in the air, after you were on the field, with the red haired boy. That was strange. I didn’t help us much while we were fighting, why did you do that?”

"You are very straight forward," she said carefully. "It is refreshing." Not entirely a dishonest. "To answer your first question, no, a letter did not fall on my head. I was approached." The best lies were truths. "The second, no, actually, I was there from the beginning. I simply excel in stealth. But I bet the dwarf wished he had another opponent. You are a fearsome one to cross, from what I have seen," she replied with a small laugh to ease the tension she'd felt congregating overhead. "Lastly, I was injured. River- the red haired demon, he was healing me."

She noticed a horrendous wailing then, like an animal being skinned alive. She flinched at the sound. It reminded her of the cries of victims of torture. She loathed their screams. Yet the lonely weeping of someone trapped and lost was utterly familiar to Keres; it gripped her heart, pinched her veins and threatened to overwhelm her. "Do you hear that?" It was a rhetorical question. It was impossible not to. Keres reached toward the sound and felt the buzz of a creature that was both familiar and unknown. Keres was like fire to moths, the latter being energy and spirits. She felt something in the walls.

Keres stood from the bed and walked towards the wall on their far right, pressing her palms against the worn surface. She felt it stronger, the pressure like a force pushing against every fibre of her being. "Hey! Can you hear us?" she called over the deafening cries. "Can you see me?" To Myon, she would see Keres as a glowing light, warm and inviting, like a comforting mother urging her child into her arms. Keres did not have the power to force the strange creature trapped in the walls into her, the magic bestowed upon her did not allow her to manipulate entirely the will of living creatures, only urge them towards her. That was why she had the uncanny ability to befriend anyone, and why weaker beings were utterly infatuated with her. She was a magnet for the otherworldly. Yet due to Myon's unusual state, she was both a conscious being and energy shaped like a young girl. Now pure energy alone, powers, Keres could manipulate. But still Keres pressed harder against the wall, the crimson swirls over her body faintly glowing. Then as if the wall had become a thick, upright liquid rather than a solid structure, Keres' fingers and hand slipped through. The pressure grew stronger and she felt the familiar buzz of a migraine easing its way into her mind like razor blades and nails.

"Take my hand."

Null. (Wrong place)

To say she was surprised to find a small girl stumble and crash beside her was to say the sun was a little bright. All her attention had been turned to the figure in the wall and she didn't so much as register the frantic energy before her now until it was right at her feet. She stared stock still for a few moments before bending down, her hand tugging back from the wall. She held the young girl's shoulders and pulled her up.

"Someone is trapped inside the walls," she said without acknowledgement or surprise for the stranger who'd barged into Tiotio and Keres' room. "Are you alright?" she asked, her brows furrowed in concern and her head tilted to check for any injuries. "Did you come because of the screaming?" Keres asked. "I hope she will be alright," she said and that was entirely genuine. She did hope so. Keres was all too familiar with the trapped and abandoned. She felt the wall, looking for weak spots. It seemed the figure was pulling back rather than coming towards Keres.

There's a first, she thought wryly. Most supernatural creatures could not get to her fast enough, stumbling and slaughtering one another just to have a taste of her crimson lips or a brush of a wispy strand of her snow white hair.