[hr][center][@Hekazu] [color=tan]The Unnamable[/color][/center][hr]No. This was not right. It did not take long at all for the puppeteer to realize this. The smell. The holes in the doors otherwise decorated so lavishly. And the fact those holes were connected to the woman. [color=tan]"You are right, of course. All shall be well and all shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well..."[/color] came the answer to the demands as the free hand crawled its way back under the tattered coat. The five fingers curled around the shaft of wood kept out of view, and then, in a swift move, the cudgel was out once again. [color=tan]"But not for the masquerading fiend!"[/color]

The weapon was swung. Not against the woman, but in a deft step towards her back. Two tendrils that the purple eyes had seen were severed in an instant, and the woman began to melt into a puddle of ooze, her clothes, skin, eyes and hands alike falling apart, the crude mockery of what had been collapsing before the sudden assault. [color=tan]"The holes are the answer!"[/color] the man screamed, only to find that one fatal mistake had been made. With the weapon in the left hand, as one needed to match the strength of the blow with an equal counter of fall to the floor... a reflection stared from the mirror. One with a puppet on its right hand, purple eyes showing the briefest instance of panic, and the unkempt coat flapping ever so slightly...

And then it was all gone. All around the man was mist. There had been a tug. A tug that one had believed to never feel again. Not at the wrist, not like in the memories of past. Not by the ringing metal, even that familiarity had been denied. The stains mattered not, and here one stood, among a misty landscape. Stretching indefinitely in every direction. A chill set into the core of the barefoot body. There had to be a way out. One step at a time. Good things come to those who wait... Isn't that right, George?

>Mad Mary's semblance disintegrates as a transparent tendril retracts to the bedroom upstairs and another into the kitchen. The Unnamable and George suddenly vanish before Zaerith. Inexplicably. The eight membered doll falls face down in the ooze.