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[color=fee7be]Tryg managed to rise back up and wipe the bile from his mouth. The world had stopped twisting around him at least, even if it wasn't the restroom at all. The geometry was beyond messed up. The corridor he found himself wasn't the music building, either. [color=efbd65][b][i]Maybe this is all a dream. Just a bad dream, yeah. But,[/i][/b][/color] he thought to himself, [color=efbd65][b][i]I don't think I could think this stuff up.[/i][/b][/color] The fog in the hallway made it difficult to see too far, but he did notice a window to the outside world. When he went to it, however, he found it was barred. Of course it would be.

He thought he could make out at least one silhouette on the ground below, though there may have been more. So if he found his way out of this building, he might be able to find some people. The only question was . . . which way was out? Best way out of any maze is to put one's left hand to the wall and follow it, right? But would that work from the middle of a maze? Only one way to find out.

So Tryg started walking. He hadn't gotten far when he overheard mangled voices making their way down the hall in his direction. Luckily, he found a door and quickly ducked into the room beyond. He didn't have to see the source of the voices to know that whatever those things were, they couldn't be human. Or if they were, they shouldn't be.

The room was bare, save for a single chair and some kind of device hanging from the ceiling. At first he thought perhaps it was an ordinary noose. But no, at least not exactly. It was still a looped cord, but barbed. Not your run of the mill barbed wire. This looked more like the cables used on suspension bridges--but of course, spiked. Further inspection revealed it to be hooked to a pully above. Extendable. With a switch presumably for reeling it back in. And there were other, smaller loops along the walls. Two on each side to be exact. Perfectly sized to entrap hands and feet. This had to all be a bad dream, right?

When he thought he was in the clear, he opened the door once again, only to find a cat-like figure standing on the other side. Only it wasn't exactly a cat. It looked like something out of a fairy tale or comic book, standing on its hind legs with its violet fur and crimson hat, boots, and (admittedly fashionable) cape. Its slitted green eyes looked simultaneously adorable and thirsty for blood. Then it carried a saber--a scimitar of sorts--its curved blade flaunting both gracefulness and lethality.

Not good. Tryg didn't have anything to defend himself if this thing decided to lunge. For now it seemed to simply watch him. Almost like a cat watching the mouse it plans to catch before pouncing. Debating whether it wants to bat its prey around a bit or go for the kill outright. Tryg had to think of something. He just couldn't move quickly. The last thing he needed was to provoke it early. Trapped in a room of tortures by a creature half his height. This is just how Tryg wanted his day to end.

He took a slow, cautious step backward, and the cat did a shuffle-step closer, never dropping the guard stance it held, its tail now flitting with excitement. [color=efbd65][b]"C'mon kitty,"[/b][/color] Tryg tried to coax. [color=efbd65][b]"No need for violence."[/b][/color] But the cat just hissed in response. Okay, new plan. Tryg reached for his trombone, and the creature watched its glistening surface in amazement. Good. He had it distracted. He began to play a soft lullaby. Perhaps music would cause it to relax.

And to his amazement, it began to work. Slowly, the cat's eyes began to soften and its lids to droop. Continuing to play, Tryg took a cautious step around the creature. Then another. And anoth--the cat sprung back to life and batted Tryg's instrument aside, and with a jump and swift kick to the chest, Tryg was on the ground. The creature leaped at his face, the blade raised to strike, and Tryg protected himself with the only thing he had: [i]Dainsleif[/i]. The cat was easy enough to throw off of him; it wasn't heavy, just nimble. And as he gathered his wits, he realized the damage that his instrument had sustained. The slide was dented in two distinct places from the impacts. Repairs would be in order. But first . . . this cat had to pay.

The strap had been severed as well, so there would be no more slinging [i]Dainsleif[/i] over his shoulder. He'd have to carry it. And at this point, it was his only reliable defense. The cat paced around him, closing off all avenues of escape. Fine. He'd go through it. Tryg charged, and the monster lunged, but Tryg was already swinging. Brass met skull and the cat began tumbling, but with agility befitting a feline, Tryg's adversary landed on its feet and lunged again, faster than Tryg could fully avoid. He took a fairly substantial cut to his left shoulder. Not good. And it was already on its way back for another strike. The torture cable was above him and the chair behind him. So, powered by adrenaline, Tryg slid [i]Dainsleif[/i] away along the floor and grabbed the chair with his good arm. Surprisingly, it moved. And with one swing, batted the monster toward the ceiling.

Finally, something a little more normal, if not gruesome. The cat began to screech in a manner familiar to Tryg from childhood cartoons. And it dropped its saber as, in its panic, it tangled itself in the cable. Tryg took the saber from the floor, and cautiously walked the cables attached to the walls to the entangled cat. He hooked the cat with them to the best of his ability, and after retrieving [i]Dainsleif[/i], he flipped the switch that triggered the pullies, leaving the screaming creature behind.[/color]