Hawlin — Roleplayer Guild

Driving upwards, Kaite felt the weight of ten foes upon the 'Discerned Lance'; the technique lifting the figure a meek half a foot in the way of dragging them across the ground with sheer momentum. Concluding with an ultimatum in the way of a defeated groan, the knight reached her limit. Whatever there was for a blessing that Eru could give, the shallow frame of the half-elf could not possibly give another inch.

A firm grip and strength would pale as the blow struck true.
Though voices opened the visor to cry out in tens out souls' resolve, the expression from the meat within called 'Kaitra' held bags under her eyes like bruises which framed her bloodshot eyes. Worry paved the way into her soul; the infamous knight crumpling and holding on as if their life depended on it as they recoiled from their blade being torn asunder.

While form was enough to hold their grip level on the handle and heft, Kaite held to the bitter end with little more than a hold on a bent quarter of a blade. What a knight would call a tool, the old black knight of Ispar saw as a waste.
All fell away as the now understood 'skin' healed even her most desperate and determined strike. Even more insult was added as the creature stole the last bit of her sword, leaving the knightress with a mere handle and half a blade.

Dashed low upon the rocks of humanity, Kaite motioned to chase the darkening figure before they faded. However, a meek stumble ensued, revealing the last ounce Kaite had to give as she brought herself to stand one last time in the exchange. Managing little more than to fall into where the figure was and drive what was left of her sword into the soil.

...

The creature was gone, and purpose was lost, leaving Sir Knight Kaitra J. Elzbrn to herself. The knight crumpled to the ground with warmth on her back.
It took a moment with Laina's spell to pierce the husk named 'Kaite' that dragged itself into the space that was once the warlock's visage. 

Healing spells' resonance sang with Kaite's groans as she tore away at herself.
A grip of the helmet's eye-holes threw it into the ground and hands continued to grip and pry armor plating. Light left the armor as she cast it off, leaving her in the blood-stained rags she wore underneath. She ached all over, but at least the burn of the scattered armor was subsiding.
Kaite panted, lifting herself to stand enough to undo the greaves and then fall to their hands and knees. A last desperate attempt was made to frivolously kick off their boots before collapsing in to the dirt and rolling over onto her back. She steamed with the black mist that seemed to rise from the fresh blood, her breaths slowing as she could manage little more than let the armor's curse reclaim her.

In response to Ivan's question if everyone was alright, Kaite lifted an arm to offer a weak wave before easing it back down to her abdomen. She'd never been in worse shape, but the creeping chill of the black mist assured her that she would live to fight another day...though she so desperately wanted to be wrong about this assumption.
"Go where...Tiberius? It found us in- nngh...th' middle 'a nowhere" Kaite growled, mostly trying to think of reasons not to get up. "If 'e wanted us dead...well, y'know" she added, her mind starting to wander as she couldn't bear to think of the humiliation the 'champions' had endured. What the creature wanted with the chunk of her sword or the others, she couldn't begin to imagine, but she didn't figure it mattered too much at this point.
Its interest in Zenovia was something to note, and it made Kaite wish she took the time to get to know her new crew in the hopes of having the slightest clue. 'They-who-I-know', Vert, was an easy one since the figure that accosted them was likely a bit miffed about one of their own turning coat. Kaite knew that words were exchanged between them, but was a bit distracted in the moment.
Grimly, she was thankful for souls like Ivan and Laina who genuinely try their best to help others for the sake of the act, alone. The concept had long since became foreign to the black knight, but it was still an admirable quality that painted them favorably in her mind, given the circumstance. The warmth of Laina's healing spell wrestled with the chill of the curse, though at least made the sting of flesh knitting itself back together that much more bearable.

I would imagine it as individuals entrapped in a psych ward with similar dementia that feeds into the lifeblood that made 'wonderland'.
'Alice'-type characters would be ensnared by the paranormality that the realm's magic created, parasitically depending on the 'Alice'-types for strength to exist...though likely exploited by interior nefarious means. While the actual Alice may no longer be a contributing factor, there could be candidates that could be reached through dream-states in order to pull them into the madness which cements their place as new 'Alice's.

This is purely speculation, of course. Just spitballing ideas to rationalize more than one 'Alice'-type character, should people want to play as them.

- Never played the games, but heard of the plot.
- May be confusing a few aspects with Wizard of Oz.

EDIT: However, the more contribution there is to a creation, the more the fears and strengths come out. Feeding off of what they need, the forces of antagonism grow stronger with every 'Alice'-type pulled into wonderland.

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The Jaded

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