Forbidden Thick

Ilyana smiled, pleased. “You remember,” she whispered, a hint of awe coloring her words. “I am still in your debt for that.” She followed carefully, picking her way through the trees to the path.

She considered his words carefully before she responded. “I have goals. Goals that were seemingly impossible. Goals for success. Goals for revenge. Goals for…” She hesitated, pursing her lips as she considered how to phrase what she wanted to say. “I wish to feel things… Not just fear. I want to feel it all… all of the things that people feel. And if I can feel, then I can breed more goals.”

"You have a thirst for life, then." Nealaphh said succinctly, weaving through a bore hole in a particularly ancient tree. As valid a goal as any. But re

..."As valid a goal as any, but keep in mind that knowing where you want to go will determine the tools you use to get there, and this case, the magic you will invariably learn to harness." Nealaphh said. "I suppose the first lesson I must impart is what precise kind of magic we are utilizing. It is what is called Divine magic, or power that is derived from the blessings of a being greater than ourselves. When you use your magic, you will be drawing power from Nyarlathotep himself. Never forget this..." Nealaphh rattled on as he continued deeper into the forest...

The hovercraft was white, and it most certainly stuck out at is carried through the thick. It was on its way to Wing City, and within it was Zosimos himself. A guard was driving, he sipped sparkling cider in the back.

The densely packed trees of the thick provided plentiful shadows for the cloaked figure to pass unnoticed. As he darted from shade to shade, it was as though he melded entirely with the darkness, leaving no signs of his passage even as he slipped by mere feet away from a patrol.

Briefly, golden eyes focused on the Castle ahead, before he pressed on towards its gates.

The day had come.

She had packed very little in the way of clothing. The maids had all made sure that she knew how to use everything properly, knew at least how to take care of herself. There was an abundance of fruit within the bags that hung from the saddle upon the massive undead dragon. Catira, in something new today, something she had never worn in the past, wore a pair of pants and a long-sleeved shirt. Not the usual flashy dresses or Victorian skirts. They had even given her a little red hat with ear flaps so she wouldn't get too cold in the mountains.

It was a tearful goodbye for the maids, but it was also a relief on their part, as well. No more hulking, undead dragon for who knew how long. But no more little Catira. Perhaps it was for the best. They all missed Casren quite a bit, as well. Maybe the girl wouldn't die under the dragon's watchful...lack of eyes.

And so, the small girl and the dragon set out, Catira clambering onto Mortuus' back, hanging onto the large spikes there. She strapped herself into the saddle, then kept herself close to the beast's neck. With a running start, and a flap of her wings, Mortuus rocketed into the air, toward the mountains to the north.

"We should be there any minute." spoke Augustin as he took to the front of the group, using his enhanced sense of smell to track down what they were looking for. His olfactory organs weren't any better than the others, but he was one of the only ones that knew the scent of the creatures for which they searched.

"What does a Fairy even look like?" asked one of betas of the pack.

"Let's see.. two inches tall, little green dress, dust trails." chimed another with a snicker.

"Quite the opposite." replied Augustin. He stopped in front of a sudden opening in the thicket of trees, taking a second to sniff the air. Sure that this was the right spot, he reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a small, pear shaped vile. It was filled with what looked like sand. He emptied some of the powder into his hand and waved his hand horizontally in front of him.

As the light-brown particles trickled downward, the space in front of him underwent a ripple-like distortion. Augustin turned his head to look at his fellow pack members, mainly his sister Emlyn. "We go in fast, and clear the place out. We don't kill them, and we do not drink from them." We're only knocking them out, and taking them back to the mansion." He gave a quick nod, and performed an about-face before hurrying into the portal. The fellow Chirons moved forward quickly, their speed allowing them to maneuver at a blur.

It was a short skirmish, the Fairies gathered inside stood no chance against the dozen or so therianthropes that stormed their bar. "I remember them being much better at fighting." A look of disappointment rested on Emlyn's face as she rolled one of theFa unconscious supernaturals over with her foot. She leaned down and grabbed two of them by the collar, then sped out of the portal. Soon the other Chiropterans followed suit with a fairy in hand. Once they were all outside, Augustin quickly conjured a spell that transported them to the mansion that served as their temporary abode. The fledglings were tasked with locking the Fairies in one of the lower levels of the building while Augustin and Emlyn were left to talk.

"What do you think our brother has in store for these creatures?" Emlyn asked.

"No idea, but whatever it is, it's going to be good.

She had been walking for days. She barely stopped on her journey to rest or eat, but the effort did not seem to wear on her. At least, it did not show upon the face of the Tower Nymph, who claimed to be a human woman with the cute little nickname. However, after such a long journey with little expense, she simply had to be more.

Perhaps it was because of the Golden Tower, with a distinct supernatural air about it. The Golden Tower was miles away now, worlds away, but Ione could feel its will within her, pushing her forward. Why? She did not know, and she did not question it. She only followed it, as she had done since she was young. As she would so until she was old.

Her blonde hair was in a braid over one shoulder, and her faintly violet eyes, half-lidded, darted about the woods as she walked. Her feet were bare, dirty, and lightly scratched from walking through thorn bushes and other such shrubbery.

The sound of wings flapping could be heard overhead, judging by the sound they were large wings. Whatever was flying in the sky darted across the sun like a bullet from a gun then fell from the sky like a meteor, crashing down a few hundred feet from where the Nymph was located

Ione felt a tremor beneath her feet as something crashed into the ground, and her attention was immediately averted. Warily, she picked her way through bush and branch until she came to the origin of the crash, making her way around it to get the full scope of what she was dealing with.

As Ione neared the impact zone, she would see a large crater with a cloud of dust still rising out from it's center, inside a figure could be seen laying on the ground in the exact center of the crater. They had large green wings and what looked like green scales all over their body. A long reptilian tail curled around them as they seemed to be punching a green clawed hand into the ground. Sobs could be heard coming from them

More out of curiosity than out of any kindness in her heart, the Nymph approached the being in the crater, still as warily as before. Each step was so delicate, so well placed, that her approach was difficult to hear by any human ears.

"Are you hurt?" she asked aloud, her voice deep, but not husky. It was a smooth, powerful tone of voice. "Do you need assistance?"

Ryth looked back in surprise when she heard Ione's voice. She looked back towards ione with a look of hurt but not physical pain, pure emotional pain "There is nothing you can help me with" She said Looking back down to the ground, tears fell from her cheeks and damped the cracked earth under her. The half dragon trembled as she once again slammed her claw into the ground

Ione was alright at reading faces, reading small signs. She could see the pain clearly in this being's face. Her own showed a distinct lack of emotion, though one eyebrow quirked just a tad. "There is clearly something wrong." she told her. "You do not seem hurt, however, you did take such a dangerous...dive."

Ryth looked back towards Iona "There is a lot wrong, but nothing you can aide me with" she said biting her bottom lip "Not unless you can persuade my mother's mind to change" she said closing her eyes and letting more tears fall before her face contorted into a look of pain and she began to sob a little harder

Her head turned to the side just a tad. She blinked those violet eyes of hers and pursed her lips. "If I could be so brave, could I ask what needs changing?" she asked her, keeping at least four feet away. She certainly wasn't afraid of her, oh, no, just making sure. This lizard woman certainly wasn't the strangest thing Ione had ever seen.

Ryth sniffed and wiped her eyes, what would it hurt to tell someone of her problem, heck it might be good for her to vent. She adjusted herself to where she was now sitting on her knees "My mother would use my body as nothing more than a tool for the advancement of our race" she said blushing slightly as she did "I know I should be more than willing to save my species from extinction, but......" she paused and looked away "I can't help but to feel i'm being used" she said chuckling slightly "It must seem a trivial matter" she said shaking her head and wiping her eyes, though more tears came

Once again the tall walker at his side turned his head towards him, Jegun shrugging off the question look Adam cast his way for the hundredth time on their journey here. The once destroyer angel had the blade of his calling slung over a shoulder, deftly weaving the immense weapon through the close foliage as easily as the once mercenary slipped through the dense undergrowth with the years of experience showing. His eyes narrowed as their destination came into sight, however, and his sigh was not relieved.

It was resigned.

He looked drastically different on this, a dark eve. Long, silvered white hair drawn back into a single ponytail, his sapphire eyes gleamed in the shadows with almost an inner light, his hands, encased in worn leather gauntlets going through the habit of checking his weapons. Attired similarly in armor of leather make, studs of engraved steel and the hints of lighter plates of some other metal only barely visible, his cloak at his back shifted as he moved, revealing the hilts of twin sabers sheathed crosswise at his back, hilts tilted down to either hip. A brace of knives went across his chest, the handles of large magnums from under either armpit. A collection of hilts adorned him elsewhere, and indeed, Adam had never seen the master of Judicarius so heavily armed.

Or worse, the Fallen thought as he caught the detached mind in those eyes, dwelling on else but self examination. He'd never seen Jegun so coldly poised as he was. It was as though the soul behind those orbs was not, as Jegun was, human. If he could even consider the man human as it was, for he'd seen the other within the Judicar. Kyriel.

"It's time. Call them." The smaller man's voice was emotionless, void of intent, yet the familiar growl that accented his words brought no comfort the the angel's heart as he nodded solemnly. Flipping his titanic blade, Saiyaku, overhead, he rammed its overlong length into the dead earth at his feet, sending out a wave of calling power to the heaven's above. A challenge, from the hunted fallen.

If the pair were to wait, twas not for long as moments later, blinding bursts of light and thunderclaps roiled the air, figures in shining, glowing platemail, their haloes of light banishing the shadows utterly. Longswords and maces of golden metal were held in salute, reference to the one of their number that sent chills through Adam. Of all those expected, he had not expected a full Seraphim, Revial, to be sent in answer. "Jegu-"

"Quiet." The softly spoken word was neither sharp nor unkind, yet inexplicably Adam ceased his protests, falling silent as Jegun slowly turned to regard each of the angels in turn, purposefully ignoring the Seraphim until at last, they glared at each other, eye to eye. Revial opened his mouth to speak, but the ex-merc held up a gauntleted hand.

"The terms are very simply, Angelo. Adam did not challenge you, I did. My challenge is to you, and whatever retinue you deem fit for this combat, against myself, and I alone. Should I win, you will henceforth and forevermore cease your attempts to claim the blade that is in my companion's possession and never again threaten his life with your presence, as a collective host. Should I lose, you may take possession of the blade, which he will freely yield, and no more. He is free of you all the same. Do I make my challenge perfectly clear?"

Revial sneered, but nodded. His own voice was melodious, but did nothing to hide the contempt and malice in his face. "Agreed, mortal. So you shall face us all then."

Jegun merely nodded, the retinue of angels forming a circle around him, cutting off Adam. The fallen felt fear for the first time, counting his friend's enemies to number seven against him. Yet the man's expression was calm, slowly glancing at each in turn. And then, without a warning, those eyes settled on Revial once again. And it began.

Two angels darted in, holy blades cleaving diagonal arcs on opposing sides at separate heights, so as to prevent evasion, yet their target lightly bounced on his feet, twisting his entire body along the arc of the threatening weapons, slipping past in the gap between them by the narrowest of margins. His cloak sliced clean away, Jegun's hands moved as a blur, even angelic sight only catching sight far too late as two long, wickedly edged knives slid under the chin of full-helms, plunging into soft, yielding flesh in showers of brilliant gold ichor. Attackers reeling in mortal wounds, the man landed on his feet, already leveling the two magnums on the next pair of approaching attackers.

With howling roars did the intricately crafted guns sound, but it was not bullets they fired. Plate armor buckled inwards from the force, as twin bursts of raw glowing power bucked from their barrels, the weapons twisting through the air as the hiss of drawing swords met the charge of the remaining three.

Adam scarcely believed the sight he beheld, within a double heartbeat four of the elite soldiers of his kin were writhing in death knells on the cursed earth of the wood, and of Jegun? The Judicar was a whirlwind of flashing white blades, the twinned ice sabers in his hands lashing with inhuman speed and perfected grace of true form, slamming aside furious strokes, parrying smoothly thrusts, launching short, staccato ripostes with not two, but three attackers. Soft flurries of footsteps, his ever in motion form dancing through the melee with such speed that never once was a flank left unguarded, the sweeps of his swords simply flowing from to offense.

It felt like hours, watching the kaleidoscope of sparks as heavenly gold met soul-forged ice, the disbelief on immortal faces turning to shock, as explosively those sabers twisted out in synchronized harmony. At at the eruption, a burst of frozen power coruscating in arcing moon scythes of ice that blew apart the tri-attack cage.

Stumbling back, struggling to find balance from the sheer power of the unexpected surge, the first survivor of Revial's guard regained sight of Jegun in time to catch a steel plated boot slamming into his visor, his head snapping back, then recoiling into the vicious downward chop of Kan'ya Kiba's bitterly keen edge. Cutting through the armor and into the being within it, the Judicar was already turning, wrenching his sword free of the corpse to whip across its twin, Hyouga Tsume.

The roaring moon wave of ice and freezing water that erupted from that swing intercepted the other guard's charge, blinding and hammering him off balance anew. The balance tipped, Jegun landing with a foot on his victim's chest, having used the other corpse as a springboard, Kan's tip burrowing up and under the helm and slamming into the mind within his skull.

Leaping back and twisting in the air, Jegun watched Revial, twirling both swords in his hands. The Seraphim merely gaped for a moment, taking in the sight of his slain brethren and staring in shock. He opened his mouth.

And not a word came forth, but ichor dribbling down his chin. Adam blinked, unable to perceive how it was the Jegun had moved so fast in that final, blistering charge, only that a few paces behind the Seraphim, the Judicar sheathed his swords. And around him, a pool of ichor, flicked from their surface. Revial crumpled.

"And so it is done. We go home now."

Adam merely nodded, still too stunned to believe what he had just seen.

Cro couldn't really say why he'd come into the Forbidden Thicket. Then again, he couldn't really explicitly say why he went anywhere. Maybe it was the dark appeal, the macabre allure, the corrupted essence of the place that made it feel oh-so-much like home. Maybe it was the legacy of the place, the countless dark crimes committed in these black thickets, the sickly sin festering in the blistered woods.

...or maybe it was just the emotion... the delicious medley of pain and suffering perpetuated in these abysmal forests. There was food here. Such good, strong food. He would find it... he wanted it... needed it... he would find it and consume it...

The monster stalked the woods with tepid patience.

He waited in the distance, though just within Cro's vision. He always did this. He let them find him themselves, though this time was different. He felt it. The stranger was like him.

The Faceless stood patiently. He had returned to these parts after feasting heavily upon the churning cacophony of horror he had caused above the planet Antongrad. The Faceless had made these woods his home. He had caused such suffering in and around them, the air was intoxicating with the flavors of agony and madness. If home existed for a nightmare, here was it.

As Cro approached, The Faceless pondered. Perhaps he had found something precious in this stranger. Something valuable.

Cro basked in the presence of The Faceless like a maggot writhing in the putrid decay of dead flesh. Even with the nameless creature not making an explicit appearance, Cro could still feel him. There was no hiding such an emotional void in the otherwise eerily tranquil forest... a hotspot of suffering and unmentionable terror amid a lifeless, unfeeling landscape.

Cro breathed deep of the musky air. He shoved his hands deeper into the pockets of his grimy jacket, his bloodless lips contorting into a cruel mockery of a grin. Beneath the shadow of his drooping scarecrow's hat, it was difficult to make out his face... though the Callix was willing to bet that whatever this thing was, it could feel him just as much as he could feel it.

"Come on, little birdy..." he whistled out into the woods, his voice like crushed gravel, "...come out and look me in the eye. Gimme' a proper welcome into your little corner of the world."

The Faceless proceeded to do just that.

Gliding in out of the obscurity of shadow, he appeared right before Cro, dragging with him a pungent and intoxicating wave of misery and terror. To someone capable of feeling such raw negative emotion, it would be the most intense of highs. Despite his utterly featureless face, nothing more than bone-white skin stretched over a smooth skull, it was quite clear The Faceless' gaze (or lack thereof) was focused intently on Cro.

He lifted up a ghostly white hand, his fingers long and spindly, flexing and extending them in a gesture almost akin to a wave. For a moment there was silence, and one could even be forgiven for believing the improbably tall being with no mouth was trying to speak. And then, impossibly, there came the softest, lightest voice, as though a gentle breeze had formed a whisper.

"Welcome."

Cro bowed humbly, stepping quietly around the faceless figure, prancing delicately across the grubby foliage.

"I must say..." he began, his cackling voice a stern contrast from the Faceless' gentle coo, "...you have quite the little getup here. The atmosphere... the decor..." He looked back over his shoulder, grinning gleefully. "It's perrrrfect. Ab-so-loot-lee peeerrrffecct." He breathed deep of the forest air, letting the scrumptious medley of emotions seep into his pores, tasting of the terror like a fine wine. The place was drenched in the Faceless' incomprehensible, Lovecraftian horror to be sure... but there was other sorts of fear at work in these woods besides his. Fear and pain of various different shapes and types. Cro was curious... what sort of monsters could wreak despair of THIS magnitude?"

"There are others who live here?" he turned and asked the Faceless, "others like you? Like me?"

"Yes," breathed The Faceless, his voice seemingly emanating for nowhere in particular on his person. "We are alike. This is a place where we can at home. Enough fear likely permeates the dead wood here to sate you for several lifetimes." The Faceless drifted slightly closer.

"But, we can have more," the pale shade emphasized. "So much more. You consume fear, breath it in. I am born of it. I can give you as much as you would ever need simply by appearing before you. But this world," continued The Faceless, "It is so ripe. So many lives. So much cattle. We could make their every exhale one of agony and terror. We could go wherever we want, do as we please with no need to hunt or to plot. There are so many. And they are so weak."

The Faceless lifted an ivory hand before Cro's face and spread his slender fingers. A fresh wave of misery and pain seemed to rush forth from the white skin.

"I have... family," continued The Faceless. At these words, a shambling figure sauntered in from the darkness. It was skinny and hunched over, with craggy grey skin and an almost canine face. It's right hand ended in enourmous bladed claws, which glinted wetly with the redness of fresh blood. Beside the new creature, another figure appeared. It was the shape of a young woman, but slightly translucent and seemingly drained of all color. The spiderweb stains of blood trickling from her eyes, however were contrastingly vibrant. She floated several feet off the ground.

"And we all wish for the same thing. We will achieve this, for how could we not? But I sense kinship in you."

"With us you'll never ache for a meal again, no matter what desolate corner of this world you find yourself on," spoke The Maiden. "And a family protects each other." The bladed grey creature shrieked a hideous cry, something akin to a dying cat and a terrified young woman trapped in a room together. Despite this, it was grinning.

The Faceless opened his arms wide, an improbable span in itself, though now, seemingly from nowhere, entire new arms spread forth, so that he gave the look of an outstretched spider.

"Well Brother?" he asked gently. "Arn't you hungry?"

Cro looked about himself at the ghastly horde of monstrosities. Beasts, horrors, predators of fear... all gathered together in a collective unit of terrifying unity. A family. The word was as foreign to Cro as it was aberrant. In all his wide wanderings across the universe, he'd never once had anything akin to a companion. The Callix had always worked alone, accomplishing through trickery and deceit what he could not through force and intimidation. Part of him was reluctant to trust these people. He was not a trusting creature, after all...

...but then again, who said anything about trust? Cro looked about himself at the legion of abominations and realized what a remarkable opportunity this was. No longer would he have to hide himself, resting in gutters and alleyways, scraping meals from stragglers and unfortunate mendicants. With the help of these people, these things, Cro could at last achieve the power he had so long desired. Pain. Suffering. Misery. All of it... ALL of it could be his... it would be the greatest feast he'd ever known...

"Well Brother?" he asked gently. "Aren't you hungry?"

Cro snapped up to attention, his grin wide and malicious.

"...famished."