[b][/b]Your legs can only barely carry you up the stairs; their sole motivation lies in the reprieve they’ll soon know. Finally making it to your cot you feel the heaviness of a worn body and eyelids sunken deeper than the [color=00aeef][b]brith warships[/b][/color] scattered about the [color=662d91][b]Ocean Abyssal[/b][/color]. Collapsing in your bed your face meets soft fleece as it collides with a cushy pillow. At last there was quiet, perhaps not a blissful quiet, but quiet indeed. 

The world and its light fades from you as the night takes you into its realm. 

[hr]
[color=7ea7d8][i][b]You wake up to, what sounds like, a thunderous assault on the door to your room. Still dazed and half asleep you find the strength to pick yourself up from your cot. Your gate is slow and without reason, and the coldness of the floor nips at your feet. You finally make it towards the door, your arm now leaned against a wall for support. You carefully turn the the knob, but it feels wet and unsettling to the touch. It feels like you’ve been turning the damn thing for an eternity. 

At last, the door concedes to your meddling as it ushers in the morning air. Upon investigating beyond the door you see nothing. There is no one there, but one thing is for certain, the blackness that erodes the hallway in front of you is not supposed to be there. 

Stepping out into the darkness you find that there is no floor to support your footing. Much like the hallway before you the blackness engulfs you as you fall into an abyss. You try to catch a breath while you fall, unsure of what to do. Your fall feels weightless, but unimaginably heavy. There is no air surrounding your descent, and any words or shouts for help are met only with the all-encompassing blackness.[/b][/i] [/color]

[hr]
[center][img]https://img00.deviantart.net/2c32/i/2013/003/4/7/abandoned_desert_mine_landscape_by_appylon-d5q9yvi.jpg[/img][/center]
[center][hider=][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cwA40Rt6kkA[/youtube][/hider][/center]
[color=a0410d][b][i]As you continue to pierce into nothingness you feel a bitter warmth on your back. A wind soon picks up, but its gusts give you no quarter from the heat. You realize that you are no longer falling. As if by magic or some twisted demon’s meddling the world before you is brought to the light. You find yourself lying on your back. Pulling your hand from under the weight that constricts it you see piles of red sand seep through its grasp. The blistering heat of what appears to be a desert crack down on furrowed brows. 

There is a presence, something that beckons you forward through the dunes. Picking yourself up you feel no choice but to heed its commands. You again feel the warmth of the sand on your feet, but it not longer hurts you. The intensity of the sun’s heat causes rifts about the air. The sky itself dances before your eyes. The scorching radiance is enough to bring you to your knees on a few instances throughout your trek in the sands, but each time something pushes you onward. [/i][/b][/color]

[hider= Lucilia] [i]You see him among the sands, in all of his glory. Earl Lion Wolfram, awaits you, a hand extended. You rush to his side unsure of what beast has forced you both into this most gastly of realms. The sands feel unnatural and grimey, and each footstep feels like a betrayal to the name of Wolfram. Still, father must have an answer. Upon getting close enough to inspect his body you see black pourices etched about his person. Their mutated husk like craters stink of plague and decay. 

As if against your will your hands reach out to him, but his touch feels colder and more unpleasant than a thousand peasants. His hands are clammy, and you notice the blackened sours festering like tumors. They feel alive, and their intense bubbling abhors you. Maggots crawl from every open wound on his exposed skin. Amidst this horror you realize that your father cannot move. Instead his body seems trapped in time. You notice that cracks begin to line his skin, and before you can say anything it begins to crumble as ebony dust meets the red sand. 

Venturing forward you hear the familiar whispers of court in Redcliffe. You hear your brothers and sisters call out to you, but see no one for miles. In all of its vastness this desert is filled only with hot sand and air. The quiet stinging of the heat is nearly enough to drown out these illusions. Resolving to leave such an unpleasant abyss you venture onward. [/i]
[/hider]

[hider=Barris]
[i]You’ve traveled the harsh sands for what feels like days. You’d felt the sands of the Pascar Deserts above Koponbect, but this strange realm felt different. The sands glowed with a fiery red, and the sun more overbearing than you’d thought possible. By your side, same as always, was Vic. As you walked him through the sands you felt his heavy gasps and whimpers. You needed to find water soon. Instead, all you hear are the distant sounds of screams though source is obscured by the massive sand dunes that decorate your path. 

Ushering Vic forward you find yourself pushing quickly through the sands, and by the Stone at least the damned stuff didn’t burn anymore. Reaching over the pass you see it. As if some twisted construction of memories better left dead you see the city of Vyberg. Rather, you see its ruins buried amongst the red sands. The dilapidated structures felt familiar, but they were scarred by an intense black as if someone had put the entire city to the torch. 

You hear an unsettling cracking of sand. The screams were a phantom. A trick of this shite realm. You quickly reach for your gun as abominations carve their way out from beneath the sands. They let out a bellowing sound of hollow cries. Their gait and wicked screams pierce through your soul. Their husks are charred, and a black taint covers what little flesh remains of them. They quickly make their way to you, and you feel the weight of a hundred armies bearing down on your psyche. You quickly load the blunderbuss in your hands preparing for a wide projectile shot. You steadily aim at a gaggle of the wretched creatures. As one of the plague-sick skeletons charge you your trusted weapon crumbles to dust leaving only ebony remnants in yours hands. You quickly pull Vic forward with you, but his heavy breathing has only served to slow him down. Your small legs carry you far as the beasts, dogged in their approach, seem to have no quarter. You feel the weight of all of Ithea knock you to your feet as your heavy body is repelled down a large dune. Behind you is the sound of harsh cracks met with the cries of a mule. It isn't long after that when you hear only the sounds of the sands once again.[/i]
[/hider]

[hider=Aria]
[i]Not in a long time have you felt this naked, this empty, and the feeling is unsettling. You’d grown accustomed to the constant conflict within you. It was never just Aria. There was always another watching over you, but now? Now you felt nothing. There was no Az’Set. You found yourself trekking through foreign sands without the protection of your glamor. Without it you felt a stinging vulnerability that haunted you and made you recall memories in the Wilds. Now, only the sounds of encroaching heat and the whispers of the sands were your company. 

In the distance you could hear something else, though. There was a soft rattle about the sands. Perhaps this was one of Az’Set’s tricks afterall. You quickly find yourself sprinting forward towards the sound. You are greeted, not by your pact holder, but instead by a cobra slithering through the sands. It’s form soon collapses into a black dust which is enough to startle you. 

In the distance you could hear something else, though. There was a soft rattle about the sands. Perhaps this was one of Az’Set’s tricks afterall. You find yourself walking towards the sound, but your body feels heavy. You are met, not by your pact holder, but instead by a king cobra slithering through the sands. The snake collapses into a black dust. 

In the distance you could hear something else, though. There was a harsh rattle about the sands. Az’Set was testing you.  You felt over encumbered, and your gait has slowed. The heats weighed heavily on you. You feel the tugging of a body beneath the sand as a large Penaultish serpent pokes its head out of the sea of red.  It’s eyes taunt you, and in your boldness you reach out for it. It crumbles to your touch.

The sounds of this desert betray you once again. You resolved yourself to refusing to play Az’Set’s games. You wait for him to chide you or command you, but there was nothing. Only the sounds of a soft rattle about the sands. You were alone. As you’d always been. A weak little drow playing pretend in a world that doesn’t want her. You find the weight of your body crumbling beneath you as you crash into the sands. The world is better off without you.[/i]
[/hider]

[hider=Raux]
[i]You’ve taken to strumming on your hurdy gurdy to pass the time through such bitterly hot winds. Your fur betrays you against the heat of desert sun. There are no trees for shade or wenches for a quick tryst, what a miserable realm. At least, there were the sounds of music to aid your journey. You found yourself playing a familiar shanty native to Mydar. The sounds of it, like the soft winds of winter, refreshed you. You reflected on the journey so far. You tried to piece together just how the Viceroy died. Your thoughts are interrupted by a whimper. 

You stop slowly as the realization of what is in front of you sets in. Bound to a large wooden structure hung the near-lifeless body of a beaten and bloodied brith. It was the Stranger, but his rags were dirty, and browned. His face is corrupted by a dark crimson that seeps down his fur. Thinking quickly you play your hymn in an attempt to grease his hands so that you can pull him down. However, the instrument betrays you. Instead only a bleak and persistent chugging come from the instrument. Each note is disjointed and wrong. With each strum it sounds as if the strings were being pulled out of the instrument. 

You find the gravity of the situation making your heart race. In the distance you hear the sounds of another whimper. As you cast your gaze out onto the sea of sands you see at least a dozen of these wooden structures all housing another body. As you look to The Stranger, you see black pourices fester about his body. They protrude outwards, and you can see that tufts of fur surrounding these wounds are falling out. Each hole seems sentient as they whistle and shake to the increasing gusts of wind. 

“[color=003471][b]These winds will erase us. This realm is yours, but not. The sands lie to you as it feasts,[/b][/color]” the familiar sounds of The Stranger’s voice call out to you in a broken and raspy tone. There is little life left within it, but the words are clear enough to startle you. Having given up on your attempts to free him you settle for easing his suffering. You find yourself starting to play the shanty that you’d played the first time The Stranger had seen you perform. The melody and its chords seemed as familiar as last night’s supper. You began to play, but you missed a note. Trying your best to avoid looking at the growing blackened pores spreading across the brith’s body, you start again. 

Damn it, what chord do you start in? You resolve instead to start from further into the song, but the melody that comes from your instrument is foreign. Your heart sinks with the realization that you can’t remember a single note from that day. You remember the fireplace, and the fish. You remember your youth, but the notes elude you. 

The sands now blow furiously around you eclipsing everything in your view. You remember the hood that The Stranger was wearing. Was he wearing a hood? You try to recall a face beneath the cowl, but cannot. You try again, desperately to find the proper notes, but he and the others are already gone. 

The sands settle back down to a dull breeze. Just you, the sands, and your hurdy gurdy.[/i]
[/hider]

[color=a0410d][i][b]In the distance you see what’s been calling to you all of this time. The ringing that’s filled your ears. Another phantom of the sands? No. This was real. You see an elaborate temple in the distance. It’s sharp architectural designs like horns crawling out of the sands. It feels ancient, and the bleak red coloring of the temple walls feel ominous. As you near the structure you realize its incredible size. The tower walls jut out far above you, and pierce the arid skies. You’re forced to tilt your gaze upwards to see its bell tower. As you walk closer to the temple, you hear the bells chime. It’s sounds familiar. The bells that chimed denoting the death of Viceroy Cadby. 

Reaching the large metal doors to the keep you realize that you cannot open them. They appear to be barred shut.[/b][/i][/color] 

[hider=Lucilia]
[color=9e0b0f][i]The proud wolf. Do you dream about the stories they will sing of you? Of course you do. Dreams are all you have. The reality is that your pack is the last of wolves. Your fangs have dulled. They will burn your banners, and fling everyone you love from the walls of your precious keep. How long after the bodies burn will you twist their demise to your gain. You aren’t a wolf. You’re a pretender. A creature that feels nothing, and loves no-one. You will die, and time will forget you.[/i][/color]
[/hider]

[hider=Barris]
[color=9e0b0f][i]The rogue of stone and powder. You’ve run farther than your legs can carry you. A common thug. No different from the family you left behind. When you’ve failed will you run back to them? Of course, in all your proselytizing and callousness, you are still the Viguard noble’s boy. You cling to black powder and your drinks. Neither of them will save you. These allies are no different from the ones you left behind. You’ll run from them too. When you return to your mountains  I’ll have consumed everything, and you’ll have failed them yet again.[/i][/color] 
[/hider]


[hider=Aria]
[color=9e0b0f][i]The hidden one. Is there any comfort in that creature you carry with you? The only people capable of loving you are the ones who can make you their pawn. You were created in forbidden lust, and your mother regrets every second of it. When I kill them will their laughs and cruel words still haunt you. Az’Set cannot save you. His power is fleeting, and he is a broken relic of a dead people. I will devour him, and when I do...you will be mine.[/i] [/color]
[/hider]

[hider=Raux]
[color=9e0b0f][i]The jester. Do your barbs and quips protect you from what lies beneath? A broken woman who fills her emptiness with whores and poison. You are feeble. How often do the scars remind you of that? When a lover’s fingers trail them it eats at you piece by piece. You’ve left your people to die. As the humans to the east gut your priests and take your women for their own where will you be? Here? Killing yourself with useless trifles? Will you sing lies to yourself? Craft fairy tales of valor as you dance and joke for their amusement? Pathetic.  It is no surprise your empire died long ago.[/i][/color] 
[/hider]
[hr]
You are awoken from your slumber by knocking. It's scattered across the entire hall. 

“[color=fff79a][b]Talis Cleverfoot came by the tavern.[/b][/color]" It's Mira. You hear her pause for a moment before continuing. "[color=fff79a][b]She wants all of your arses downstairs in the next ten minutes! I don't take her for the waitin' sort.[/b][/color]” Mira called out to each one of you. Her voice was a pleasant relief from the ones that haunted your rest.