As Bishop fell to his back, blood welling up in his mouth like a clogged drain, the trepidatious light afforded Highball a look past the hood that made the man seem more ravenous ghoul than human.  Beneath the black fabric and the shadows of anonymity it cast, there lay a face nonetheless.  Truth to be told, this discovery filled Highball more with disappointment than anything else.  One's imagination always seemed to provide a more fascinating view of the unknown than it ever turned out to be once explored, and in this case Highball had craned her neck to see if some sort of uncanny wraith lay beneath that ebony cloth, but she came away disappointed.  Of course, the grotesquely silent spread of blood over stone, sinking into its pitted surface and sliding through its cracks like miniature canals, did manage to set her on edge.  In a dream, however, she needed not be too concerned with the details.

Looking away from the pitiable, twitching corpse-in-the-making, Highball found her view returning to the strange woman once more.  A closer examination of this figure, now only a couple meters from her, made the hairs on the back of Highball's neck rise.  Venomous words flew from the fancy mannequin’s bloodless lips, and with a start Highball realize the scrap of moist rubbish just now tossed with palpable contempt on the floor to be none other than the ripped-out tongue of the newly-drowned.  [i]My word.  How intense!  I did not imagine otherwise, but this realm is not one to be taken any sort of lightly![/i]  Now thoroughly unnerved, Highball averted her eyes from Maria, having concluded her to be a loathsome entity with only a cursory facade of humanity.

At that moment, one of the others approached Highball.  His sudden appearance momentarily filled her with surprise, as if Kenji's visage was a slap in the face.  The next instant Highball realized that in the few short minutes she'd been a part of this dream, her only conceived expectation thus far was that she'd be a spectator for the dream's events, coasting along for the ride.  Being singled out for interaction did not, in light of the wretched act of violence just now performed, lift Highball's spirit.  While her muscles went tense, she kept her face stonily impassive, and listened.  At first, she surmised the strange strings of noises uttered by her new companion to be some nonsensical, insane utterance.  Only after Kenji's question drown in the thick, ripe silence that followed did it pluck the strings of memory in Highball's mind.  His alien language suddenly appeared weirdly familiar, but its grasp eluded her.  [i]Tantalizing...it's like remembering a the tune of a song, but not the words.  Why does it strike me so...?[/i]  She continued to answer the inquiry with a blank hazel stare, the upturned corners of her mouth hinting at both bemusement and a somewhat patronizing intrigue.  Actually, Highball felt rather infuriated that there might be some greater meaning she was too stupid to get.  [i]If I feel so obligated to answer, it must be that he asked me a question.  What would someone in a dream ask?  Who am I?  Am I alright?  Do I really need my tongue?[/i]  The best response she could think of was a shrug, slight smile, and nervous laugh, as if to say, [i]Um, I guess so?[/i]  “Heh?”

The bloodthirsty mannequin saved her from the awkward situation.  Wary, Highball turned to listen, and with the others she followed Maria into the chapel.  On the way, the tension seemed to diminish, its noose around the hunters' necks inexplicably loosening.  Immediately she noticed the altar, and her eyes lit up with curious fire.  [i]Dead, am I?  Ooh, existential.  To make me wonder what's real.[/i]  Recalling this idea from somewhere, Highball rolled her eyes in a disinterestedly quick and nondramatic manner.  [i]Pitch-lack?  Hm.  Perhaps she meant pitch-black.[/i]  The comment about memories did not unduly intrigue her.  [i]Right, right.  Had to be explained somehow.  This is the most meta dream I've ever had.  Lucid, even.[/i]  Maria's pause wore on her patience, though the detail that follow brought a smug smile to Highball's face.  [i]Hunting beasts!  Sounds like a blast.  Do I get a shotgun?  Or, considering the time period, some kind of pitchfork?[/i]  When Maria mentioned 'all that you need' behind the altar, Highball practically leaped at the chance, only to freeze stiller than a statue at the sight of Rotting Bone.

An insane child's ragdoll come to life, this man stood before Highball like a scarecrow in the field.  She could see nothing but a yawning void beneath his hood, and so swept over his garb with her eyes for horrific inspiration.  He seemed an amalgamation of different rags, each abandoned by some unaware fool to coalesce into a single, ghostly being.  Looking at him, Highball felt indisputably that Rotting Bone was very, very old; it seemed an ominous coincidence that her mind jumped to the phrase [i]too old to be alive.[/i]  When his withered lips parted to speak, Highball flinched, and her heart pounded with equal parts terror and excitement.  

He asked that she kneel, and the woman's mind conjured up images of graven idols.  Hoping it would suffice, Highball bowed to him, gingerly but deeply, but kept her eyes on him the whole time in the fashion of the martial artists.  Not looking back to see if the others followed suit, and not remotely caring, Highball waited while he trundled into the darkness before returning to her full height.  When Rotting Bone returned, his arms clutched a bounty of death and dignity.  He laid it before his fresh congregation, and invited with gesture for them to choose.  Highball's eyes shined as she dashed nimble forward, like a weasel darting out from its safe burrow to snag a morsel.  Her fingers closed around a night-black handle, and from the pile she withdrew a vicious rake.  When she yanked it free, one of its tines snared a red-banded top hat, and taking this as an omen of good fortune, Highball slipped it on her head before stepping away to examine her weapon.  Though emaciated and tough as metal, it looked like the torn-off limb of some gargantuan bird.  [i]Some huge raven's claw....what's this lever?[/i]  Out of the three settings, the lever lay in the middle.  Highball tentatively pulled it down, and the rake's tines swung together, turning the weapon into a large, intimidating cane.  Feeling very dapper, she leaned upon the cane and snickered, watching to see what the others picked.  The words of Rotting Bone she thought she understood well enough.  [i]Go out, slay monsters, bring back any trophies to this place, snark to some woman, have the time of my life.  Easy as pie.[/i]