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Post by MurkTheJerk » Sun Nov 06, 2016 5:28 pm

“Wake up.”

The disembodied voice spoke quietly into the mind of the young boy, whose eyes fluttered open at the sound. The child - perhaps ten years of age, was slight even by Tallis-Vyss standards (he often remembered getting teased for being smaller than most of the girls in school) with albino features, a slightly upturned and too-pointy nose - sat up, disoriented and unaware of where he was. His neat school uniform, bearing the markings of the Am-Xitha School of Magic, was immaculate, despite the bizarre rainbow sand he laid on. Every color, including impossible, non-existent ones for which he had coined names such as ‘Blurple,’ ‘Yorange,’ and ‘Indiblack,’ was present in swirling patterns that lined a beach with equally strange red water that washed the coast but didn’t seem to disrupt the sand nor leave it wet in the least.

“Dasan? Nishi?”

“They’re not here, Teyas. They never were,” the voice was smooth, silky. He didn’t like it, he didn’t trust it, as oddly soothing as it was.

“No. They left me in Am-Xitha, right?”

“They did. They didn’t want you anymore. They probably never did.”

“Who are you?”

“You know who I am. You’re the one who gave me a name. I’m everything that you ever needed to stay safe. I’m everything you wish you could be, but never will be.”

“Mr. Black.”

Teyas knew he wouldn’t see the facet of his splintered mind if he searched, but he didn’t have a choice. There was nothing else he could do, for the moment, really. Pushing himself to his feet, and straightening his tie, he surveyed his surroundings. Pink and gold palm fronds poked about the strange beach, leading into a jungle of the same colours, a jungle that somehow seemed vaguely familiar, but he wasn’t exactly sure why. He began walking the beach, somehow surprised that there was a real leg on his right side. Didn’t he lose one of those at some point?

Debris littered the coast, airship wreckage, if he were to wager a guess. He felt like that was important, but couldn’t recall what the significance was. Teyas followed the splintered pieces of wood, and bent bars of metal, random articles of clothing and personal belongings. The Vyssian wasn’t exactly sure where he was heading, but he was sure it was where he was supposed to be, as if there was a trail being left for him that he needed to follow.

Teyas felt the eeriest feeling of being watched as he walked along. He knew that there was something lurking in that jungle, something that wanted to murder him. Perhaps it was Mr. Black, or another, unseen entity that wished only harm on the diminutive Shei boy. He wasn’t exactly sure, but he did know that he needed to hurry. Hurry where? Wherever the debris was leading him. Teyas’ eyes darted to something moving nearby, something small hopping between a few stray airship parts. His keen Shei eyes could only catch glimpses, but he somehow knew that this wasn’t the unseen threat, watching him from afar. This was confirmed when it appeared at his feet, nuzzling against his ankles. A small, grey kitten. If there ever was a kitten that looked miserable, this was it, yet it still had affection for the young boy. He reached down and lifted it up, cradling it up in his arms.

“Mira Talas, Qalitak.”

It wasn’t really Qalitak. Teyas knew that, had always known since it had been given to him. The Ferinal named Qalitak was dead, had died saving his friends. He had died a hero, so it was hard to be sad for him, hard to feel sorry for anyone save himself, for the loss of a friend. Teyas knew that Qalitak was curled up in a basket somewhere at Kaal’s Table, lapping up bowls of Lasher milk from the finest creatures in Indaris.

The pair followed the path of debris until they spotted a cave jutting out of the strange, lime green rocks that edged the beach, and the boy remembered. This was Fogfall Island, a terrible place where he and friends had almost died, where many had died. Where he forged friendships that would last a lifetime, form bonds with people that were nigh-unbreakable. A place that he recalled as a horrid place, filled with undead horrors, Khasoj, and Yirok. A place he never wanted to be again. How did Teyas end up here again?

The boy was certain answers lie in the cave. Teyas drew in a deep, slow breath, and stepped inside.

Inside the cave, with walls that were a myriad of brilliant, scintillating colours, was a peculiar sight. Teyas gazed about, at figures that lined the walls, many figures. Other Tallis-Vyss. Or were they the same? He couldn’t be sure. There was one who was wearing Illusinist robes, making orbs of illumination in a variety of colours dance to music that was being played by a small band playing a variety of strange instruments. There was a girl - or perhaps a boy in a dress - that was chatting with another while he painted a violet-banded Moul that was posing for him in a grass skirt. There was another in rags, digging through a pile of filth in the corner, picking out grubs, and eating them. When they boy walked in, all turned and looked to Teyas, smiling brightly and waving in eerie unison.

“Hi-Hi-Hi, Teyas. We are Teyas. Welcome to the party. Would you be of liking for some teas?”

It was then that Teyas realized where he was. He wasn’t on Fogfall Island.

Teyas was trapped in his own mind.


It felt like hours, that Teyas sat there in that cave, with the other fragments of his shattered psyche, going about their strange ways, occasionally nattering at him about some nonsense or another and oblivious to the threat outside. Mr. Black was somewhere about, lurking, watching. Waiting for his moment to strike. None of the other Teyas’ knew what was coming, but he did.

They were all going to die.

Mr. Black was going to come and kill all of these harmless fools, one by one, and take their body as his own. Each and every facet of Teyas was going to be gone, and there would only be him left. Gods only know what sort of havoc he would cause in the real world. Would Mr. Black try to hurt his friends? Innocents? Anyone, really. Teyas didn’t want to be remembered as a person who brought harm to people, didn’t want to be known as a person who killed or wronged others. Granted, people would say that he finally snapped. They would think that Teyas’ fragile mind had broken, that some factor that no one could understand drove him utterly insane finally.

Maybe that’s what was actually happening. Teyas wasn’t sure. He may look like an adult on the outside, but he was still only ten years old, with eleven years further experience. He didn’t fully understand what was going on, only that somehow he ended up here, and that Mr. Black wanted to kill them all. The unfortunate fact was that none of them were capable of defending themselves, which meant they were all doomed.

Those dark thoughts that Teyas was having were interrupted by a heavy grinding sound, stone on stone from behind him. Most of the Teyas’ continued about their silliness, except for ‘Princess Teyas,’ who turned from her chatting with ‘Artist Teyas,’ to look at the boy with a worried expression, “What was that sound of being?”

“It’s starting.”

“What is of starting?”

“The end of our dream.”

The Princess opened her mouth as if to respond, but it was cut short by a scream, as blood sprayed across the cave and at the Young Teyas’ feet. The boy clutched his kitten and watched, as a black blur slashed the throat of the Teyas who was picking and eating grubs. The band ceased playing, instruments clattering to the floor and Teyas’ running each and every direction, panicked.

A few of the Band members made a run for the deepest part of the cave, away from the violent death of Artist Teyas, who was torn in half by bestial claws as he attempted to scramble away from the blurred, dark shape of Mr. Black, the top half being caught by a terrified and crying Princess Teyas, clutching on to the torso and head as if it was going to make it all better. The strangled cries of the band members could be heard but moments later, as they encountered the shadowy Helid-Spawn that resided below. Young Teyas didn’t even want to think about whatever horrors awaited them in their last moments.

All Young Teyas could do was stand there, terrified, staring in horror at the scene before him, as Moul-Teyas was lifted by a leg and swung like a bludgeon, crashing face-to-face with Teyas the Magician, slamming the latter’s head into the cave wall and causing both of their skulls to explode like two gory, over-ripe tomatoes thrown against a boulder. Princess Teyas was the last, still feebly clutching the upper half of Princess Teyas. A clawed, tenebrous hand reached out and seized her by the throat, slowly choking the life from her.

Young Teyas - now the only Teyas - was still frozen, jaw hanging slack and shaking with the horror, clutching a miserable looking kitten that somehow seemed unafraid. Mr. Black, still wreathed in illusory shadows, little more than a blurred shape turned to grin at Teyas as Princess Teyas gurgled out the last noises she would ever make.

The face of Mr. Black wasn’t that of a man’s at all, but a woman’s. A Northlander, with long dreadlocks and cat-themed armor. The woman who killed the first man he ever saw die, back in the Misyn-Virana in Am-Orah, where he grew up.

“N-no… you don’t live here. You aren’t a part of me.”

“Im as much a part of you as you allow me to be, Teyas,” she crooned, dropping the lifeless body of the Princess on the cave floor.

Teyas didn’t really understand what that was supposed to mean, and even if he could, he didn’t have the means to process it. He clutched tighter onto Qalitak, who he was suddenly glad was just a figment of his imagination, lest he accidentally crush the poor kitten in his arms. He truly hoped that someone would take care of the real Qal kitten for him.

“If you’re going to kill me, j-just do it. I can’t fight you. I’m not strong enough.”

The face flickered, changed. It became a different face, the face of another Vyssian man, the one that he saw killed by the woman in Am-Orah. “I’m not going to hurt you, Teyas.”

“Why not?”

“Because unlike all of them, you belong here. This was your life to live, not theirs. But you created them, too, as a response to the illusion that plagues your mind. An illusion regarding the face I was wearing. Regarding this face. Regarding your past, Teyas. So I had to get rid of them, to protect you. To allow you to move on. Teyas, you know what the truth is. You just aren’t willing to see it yet. That’s why I brought you here. Now, you need to see.”

The features of Mr. Black’s face began to flicker again, a visage overlapping, or perhaps breaking through, the one of the Tallis-Vyss who he’d seen murdered eleven years prior. He didn’t know the features, but they were vaguely feminine, though Teyas could tell little more than that. “The man was not murdered. He was killed in an attempt to prevent calamity. This group was on a simple assignment to Am-Orah, sent by the king himself to obtain notes on rites to purify a corrupted crown crafted of shards of the Star of Bae-Lorh. One of the party handled - whether it was intentionally or not - jewelry that was acting as a vessel for Arisyeema, the Deciever. He was possessed by her spirit; the woman who killed him was attempting to prevent her escape. They were being heroes, even if it was in a slightly barbaric manner.”

“But.. the Librarian…?”

“He was old, Teyas. His birth was dated to before the fall of Am-Xitha. His heart couldn’t handle the carnage.”

“I… I don’t believe you!” Teyas snapped, while little Qal swatted at the boy’s earlobe.

“You don’t need to. I’m part of you, Teyas. Look inside yourself, and you’ll see. Teyas. Wake up.”

Mr. Black reached onto his jacket, and produced a loaded Kam-Dalar, checking the Death-Dealer rounds. Teyas’ eyes widened, and his lip quivered a bit, “I thought you weren’t going to kill me.”

“I’m not.”

“Then what are y-” Mr. Black raised the massive revolver to rest it under his chin, pulling the trigger and launching skull fragments, brain matter, and a spray of blood into the air. Teyas stared in abject horror, jaw going slack as he attempted to choke out a scream and instead merely making a choked out squeaking noise. Flesh and blood rained on the young boy, coating his hair, his face, his clothing. The familiar taste of blood on his tongue stirred up memories of Am-Orah, making him relive the moment again in his own mind, over and over for minutes that felt like hours. Each time, a little more of the illusion melted away, a little more truth was perceived.

The blood and gore began to wash away, finally, leaving no trace on his body, the congealed mass of what was once Mr. Black’s head slithered back towards the deepest, darkest part of the cave. Only then did Teyas realize that Mr. Black was right, allowing Teyas to pierce through the illusions that had distorted his memories of the past.

And now it was time to wake up.
6000 or whatever years of civilization, of invention and progress and developing ourselves so that we might stand above all over creatures. creating a world where someone can stick a battery on his dick and shit on his dog
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