Mask
I chuckled silently at his expression. Well, not really an expression; in this place, you don't have a face, no one does. So, it was more the way he felt than anything else. He was conveying a sort of discontent and confusion. It was honestly humorous. I felt a desire to mock him a little, but that would be a distraction from what I'm doing, so I held my metaphorical tongue for now. Messing with him could wait because right now, I am close to another, the new one. He hasn't existed for long, but that doesn't help him, only me. If I'd failed to notice him for too long, he might have lost the part I need to rebuild him. That would be the end. But he's still here, for all the pain it causes him. And, that means I can talk to him, help him.
Unlike myself or the one I want to mock, this one is malformed. He puts out a sensation of sludge, filled with sharp edges. Being near him is uncomfortable, like I'm wading through a swamp without knowing the parasites in the mud. But, this isn't mud. It's his mind and soul, mixed in a way that should never happen. His mind, bound to pieces of his soul floating in a solution of emotion and tainted energy. I imagine it is pretty painful to have me functionally stepping in him. But, this mass doesn't know, nor can it think, yet. So, I have to make my way to the center, and with the other returned to this place, doing so is possible.
It doesn't take long to reach the part of him at the center, the part that still thinks. And, what I found isn't outside my expectations. That doesn't make it any less unpleasant to look at. I can feel how he pictures himself, his thoughts, driven into the space around him, transmitting themself into the minds of those who perceive him. He's bound, not with rope, but his own flesh. Parts of his skin rip away from his bones to wind into a disgusting rope. When they finish, they lash back at him—adhering to him in new and incorrect ways. The process repeats, over and over, changing his form into a mass of something unrecognizable as a man. But since this isn't a physical place, the process isn't something permanent. Occasionally, his will shines through, and the contorted mass returns to something resembling what he once was. But, this is when more of him fall away, joining the other parts of him in the sludge, spreading him, breaking him. Like he's a creation of sand, collapsing in the wind.
I have seen this process time and again, the collapse, the odd way the victim tries to understand their situation and the reality I choose to never describe to another. The process is never the same. Specific details are consistent, but every person's rendition of what they feel is unique to them. One was surrounded by thousands of themself, each clawing out chunks of flesh from the original and tossing it aside. Another manifested as fires, flicking across their skin, burning away pieces of muscle with every pass. I'd seen chains of nothing, pulling from every direction. Some bound to each other, crushing the individual, others attached to their flesh, pulling those pieces away before losing tension. But, the worst I saw was something far less fantastical and far more disturbing. The sludge around me called to that thought. It felt a resonance with it, a kindred feeling of torment. And it wanted to pull it out of me, so it tried.
She sat alone, nothing unique in the area around her, no sludge, no mass of bodies, no warping of her imagined flesh. But she was degrading faster than any other.
I shook what counted as my head, clearing the images. I did not need to relive them, no matter how much the corruption in this man's soul wanted me to. My goal here is not self-reflection but guidance. I am here to convey a message, assurance, and assistance. I am not willing to let this thing mess with my mind in that way. So, I approached him and waited till he was capable of understanding, if even for only an instant, because an instant is all I need, a moment to latch onto and convey everything that I have to say.
His body warped, entire limbs becoming ropes before swinging around and sticking to the spine like some grotesque extra limb. His bones jutted out at random angles, breaking apart but never incorporating into the new form correctly. They would always grind together, or stick out in odd ways, never once granting structure to the almost random placement of his muscles. His intestines became visible, then immediately vanished back within the mass, practically wiggling around inside him. Like something else wore the fleshy tubes as skin and sought out the empty warmth inside of the host. His entire body twisted, his eyes swimming around the surface of his grotesque form, and his bones vibrating at a violent pace. Then, he was back, a young man, basic features, but his body collapsing like a dried-out sandcastle.
I grabbed him, holding him in the moment, forcing it to last for as long as I needed. He was confused, an understandable reaction, but I had to make this quick. The moment would last as I needed, but the strain would increase the longer I held on. So, I started speaking, giving the poor soul little time to understand the situation. "What is your name?" I ask the question so that he asks himself. "You don't remember, do you?" I continue, not giving him any ability to answer my questions because the answers aren't for me. "Do you think you could find it, find your name?" I continue speaking, letting my real voice guide him where he needs to be. "Find your name, find it, and I will find you, free you." This was not a question but a compulsive command. The words would bounce in both his mind and his soul, and eventually, they would resonate with who he once was. "Until then, hold on, and remember, remember your name." I finish the groundwork with that statement. Now, all I can do is wait because I cannot drag him back without a tether. So, I turn to move away, intending to return to the other. But, the world has always taken joy in throwing my plans into disarray.
"I never had a name." The man behind me says, his voice filled with sadness and hatred. "Not once did I have a name. I can't remember something I never knew." He tried to scream out the statement, but that isn't possible in this place. "Does that mean I'm stuck like this? Stuck as what he turned me into?" He asked a question that, for the first time in a while, I couldn't answer. I wished what he said was just the rambling of the damnd, but he was too coherent. He was aware enough to speak, and in this place, that granted a vehement truth to what you said. I knew the feeling in his voice—sadness, desperation, and all of it right at the tipping point of resignations and damnation. I felt what he felt, and I could almost hear his mind giving up as he let himself collapse. I was unwilling to let him fall into that path, one that you can never turn back on, so I turned back toward him and spoke again, hoping I was right. I had no evidence for what I was about to say, I had no proof, and I'd never wanted to test it on another. But, a chance is better than nothing, especially in the dark of a desperate mind.
"A name is not needed to return from the void, but something must act as a tether." This time, I did not let my voice console him; I needed to challenge him. "You will need to find something, find something to call yourself or anything that will resonate with your entire being." My voice took on a timber I hadn't used in so long I had forgotten about it. "Anything will do, a story, a time, a place, a memory, but it must be yours, and it must connect every part of you." My voice would hopefully act as a guide to help him find that thing if he had one. "You are beyond my hand and must drag yourself up the walls of eternity by yourself," I told him the truth; I couldn't help him as he was. "But, if you find that path, find a tether, find the thing that can hold you together even when you are no longer you, I will be there to drag you the rest of the way." I moved forward, forcing my presence across all of him, covering every scattered piece and every lost thought. I had to guarantee that every part of him was aware of this next part. Lest part of him remain in this place alone. "Bind yourself, find the path, and I promise I will grab whatever you use to hold you together." My voice spread out across this plane, calling out some of the few in this place that could do me harm, but I didn't care right now. "It will not be easy, and you will never be equipped enough to succeed, but if you want to survive, you will need to surpass the impossible." Holding the moment started to hurt, the natural flow of time building against the damn of my grip. "So, find a key and unlock the path, where I will see you and guide you back to yourself. I will snatch you from this place and rebuild you as nothing more or less than yourself." With those words, I had to let go, let time flow once more, and let him return to the purgatory of his own mind. His form returned to that amalgamation, and mine flickered from the strain.
After watching him for a moment more, I moved away, hoping that the poor fool would succeed but knowing that his chances were less than slim. I moved back to the other, with none of my desire to taunt him remaining. I moved, disregarding the approaching entities that sought to try and do me harm. With my mood soured by the experience, I had no patience to deal with them. My will blasted out, unbridled rage and hatred turning into a wave in the sea of thoughts. Those creatures felt my will, they felt an old might in my thoughts, and like the cowards they are, they ran. But, the other seemed pleased at my actions. His will transmitted an expression that irritated me, a shit-eating grin showing that he took pleasure in my situation as I did to him. I had no desire to put up with him, but I must speak with him before returning as our ritual demands.
"So things can go wrong, even for one as mighty as you." He mocked me, his voice an oily replica of my own. "Didn't like what you saw? Maybe it was like her, eh?" A part of him reached toward me, an attempt to pull out a memory I had no desire to recall. In no mood for his games, I wrapped myself around his appendage, crushing it like straw. "KSSSS," He hissed in pain, his authentic voice showing for an instant at the loss of part of him. I felt no pity for him because my actions hadn't caused him pain. That wasn't a feeling he proven he could understand, and in this place, our understanding is what grants us our forms.
"I'm in no mood. Our deal remains the same. Ask three questions; I will grant you the answer to one if I am able." I forced my voice to remain civil, a courtesy I need not give him, but I did nonetheless.
"Touchy today aren't we," he said, a mock form of hurt permeating what he said. I did not reply, as what he said was not a question, and the ritual was already in place. "Fine, fine. Question one. Were you responsible for the change in the hero?" He voiced his first question, constantly failing to word them so that I couldn't give him a half-truth. "Question two. Where's the other enforcer? I couldn't feel them nearby while I was playing." He voiced his second question. This one was one I did not yet know the answer to. As such, this question was another I could use against him. "Question three. Do you think it will be long before I can play again?" His third question, always the same, was one I'd never chosen to answer before. But, this time, I felt that this was the one I would grant to him. I could not answer the second in a meaningful manner and did not want to answer the first, so I would give him the third.
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"I choose to answer your third question to the best of my ability," I spoke, and at my words, his expression turned sour. He'd likely assumed I would ignore this one as I always had. But, like the world to my plans, I felt to desire to play a game at his expense. "With my current understanding of the world, the goals I have in mind, and the restrictions I must follow to keep the position I currently hold, I believe that the time between now and the next time you gain control will not be nearly as long as the time between the last and now." I gave my answer, and with it, our bargain was sated. An exchange of something occurred, part of me to him and part of him to me. Two entities trading part of themselves to the other to clear themselves of something they had no need for or no desire to keep. It was a simple process, but the prerequisite for participation made it functionally impossible. But his existence made it easy, and I needed to continue this farce.
His expression was odd like he didn't fully understand the answer. The idea of not having to wait for so long to do as he pleased was enjoyable to him. But, I hadn't chosen to answer the question he wanted me to, and those feelings of dissatisfaction muddied his mood and thoughts. So I let him mull over my words as I left this place and returned to my body. I have work to do, and he will sleep till he feels a chance to move. He always has and will continue to do so for as long as I need his existence. After that, it is beyond me because he mirrors my existence, but he is not a piece of myself.
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Luna
Status
Body-Repaired, exhausted
Recommended action-Rest
Mind-Within acceptable alteration
Recommended action-None
Soul-Intact, bruised
Recommended action-Rest and meditate
Safety-Assured
Remaining action-Return the offered position
A jumble of odd syllables raced through Luna's mind. None of them made sense, even if Luna understood the words themselves. But, Luna didn't feel up to figuring out what any of them meant, as thinking exasperated a pounding headache she'd developed while she was unconscious. >Wait, why was I unconscious?< Luna asked herself upon realizing the oddity of her current situation compared to what she remembered last. Luna shot up into a sitting position; her eyes darted around, trying to find that monster. But, all she saw was an empty alley, no sign of the thing that had broken her arm, or anyone else for that matter.
The thought of her arm brought another realization; the pain was gone, mostly. That white-hot agony was gone. Her arm felt almost normal. However, Luna was scared to look at the limb to verify its condition. The memory of how she had looked disturbing enough that thinking about it made her want to vomit. She feared that the only reason she didn't feel that same searing pain from her hand was that something worse had rid her of the ability to feel that pain. She felt like her fingers were moving, but she didn't dare lean on that limb to check in case that brought new pain. Luna tried moving the arm and felt a breeze brush past her skin, but a part of her cautioned that it could be a phantom sensation. But, another part of Luna's mind spoke the truth. No matter how scared she was to look, she would never know anything if she always acted out of fear. So, with a heavy heart and a load of caution, Luna looked toward her hand, expecting to see it still broken.
But, what Luna found was again outside her expectation. Her arm was fine. Her hand wasn't folded backward; neither was it crushed and mangles. The only sign that anything had happened was some bruising and other odd marks that looked like burns where those things had wrapped around her arm. The bruises hurt, but it was a pain Luna could tolerate. The burn-like spots itched a little, and Luna suspected that if they were burnt, they'd sting by tomorrow. Luna looked across the flesh of her arm, trying to put her thoughts together about her situation, but nothing made sense. She remembered a request from one of the voices in her head, but afterward, everything stopped like a literal wall in her mind. It was more than a little confusing, and if Luna was honest with herself, it was a tad bit frightening. But, the voices in her head reminded her that she still had work to do, and she could worry about what happened later. So Luna got up and started walking to check on the people of the city and the members of her party.
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Kahr
"What happened out there, Kahr?" Straun asked from Behind Kahr, further in the cave.
"Everythin went tuh shit. That's wha happened." Kahr replied, his voice flat.
"Yeah, I know that. What I want to know is, WHAT FUCKING CAUSED ALL OF OUR PLANS TO FALL APART LIKE THAT?" Straun started yelling, his repaired lungs no longer preventing it. "We had all of it planned out! None of the little twits party was supposed to pose even the slightest problem for us! SO WHY ISN'T SHE DEAD? HUH?" Straun's voice bellowed out, his words suggesting it was Kahr's fault that they'd failed. On an average day, Kahr would have nodded along; He'd screwed up by playing with Mask instead of focusing on the hero. But, today was anything but ordinary, and Kahr was in a bad mood.
"YOU WANNA BLAME ME?!" Kahr yelled, his significantly louder voice silencing Straun. "YOU WANNA BLAME ME?!" Kahr whirled around to glare at Straun while speaking. "Mistuh I didn hit a single shot I took ah the hero, and the one shot I did land on a person, DIDN'T EVEN KILL UM! You wanna play blame game; you wanna try and pin this shit on my head?" Kahr let the worlds sit, continuing to glare at Straun the entire time. He'd said his piece, and after yelling, he didn't feel as angry about the situation.
However, Straun's reaction to Kahrs yelling was different than Kahr expected. Kahr expected the other man to express hurt, indignation, anger, or any of the in-between. But, instead, Straun wore an expression of confusion, like something Straun said had him thinking. Kahr thought Straun had to be playing the fool. There was no way He had no idea why Kahr was upset, so he had to be acting. The concept that Straun was about to act like he had no idea how this could be his fault was about to make Kahr scream again. But, Straun opened his mouth first, his confused words different than Kahr expected.
"What do you mean, didn't kill them?" Straun said, the confusion in his voice completely genuine.
Kahr didn't answer, his brain grinding to a halt at the words. Had Straun not drawn the line between Curse and Mask? Or was something else going on?
"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" Straun asked, a tiny bit of fright in his voice. "Because if you are, wouldn't that mean that it esc.."
"No, I'm ain't sayin thah." Kahr interrupted Straun. "I'm sayin thah I got a hunch the guy I was fightin wouldn be taken ou like thah." Kahr didn't know why he was lying, why he was trying to hide what he knew. Nonetheless, his words kept flowing. "Iffin I'm wrong, I'll make it ups tu yuh." Kahr said that, but he knew he wouldn't ever have to make good on the statement. "So, fer now, les go, we got places tu be." Kahr changed the topic of the conversation, doing his best to hide that he was hiding something.
Kahr couldn't tell if Straun bought the lie. But if he did, he didn't show it. So, Kahr locked the information away, with no intention of reporting to anyone what he knew. A part of him said he shouldn't hide what he saw. But that part was silenced by another, much more selfish part. Mask wasn't dead. That was a fact for Kahr, no matter if other's believed his lie about it being a hunch or not. And that fact meant Kahr had the chance to get a rematch against the bastard. The idea excited Karh. Mask had stood toe to toe with him while, apparently, holding back. He'd fought Kahr off, and then some, and then when Curse came out, he'd beaten Kahr almost to death.
That was precisely the type of person Kahr wanted to fight against. Someone who could pose as a grand challenge. Someone who could act as a goal for Kahr to work up to try to beat. Round one went to Mask and Curse. And, right now, if they fought again, the story would be the same. But, Kahr had a new goal, and he'd be damned if he sat idly by and didn't gain the strength to achieve it. He'd earn the strength to stand his own in the next bout. ANd Kahr was confident he'd get that fight as if Kahr was right, Mask would probably stick with the little hero, and that meant he'd always be in the line of fire for Kahr.
So Kahr started walking, a brand new fire burning in his eyes. He'd stick on this path, not because he still believed in the objective, nor because the pay was enough for Kahr to die for. But, because if he did, he'd achieve his dream, and then some.
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Mask
"Report." I wrote out a single word for Scales to see as I put on the new cloack. It was baggy without the frame beneath it, but remaking that would take time. So I'd have to make do.
"The one who attacked the summoned fought with him. I would have dealt with it, but he took the warren away before I could. He left something behind, it wasn't strong, but it bought him time to go to the summoned. She definitely saw him. You'll have to wait and see if she says anything about him. He's stronger than I thought he would be, or maybe I'm weaker, I don't know. But I wouldn't have been able to send him back so easily without something eroding his hold before I got there. Something else of yours, I assume?" Scales worded the question like he'd already decided the answer he'd accept. So I didn't respond. He could believe what he wanted. "He caused severe damage to one of her limbs, but before I left, I made sure it wasn't anything permanent. Bruising and some muscle damage, but nothing she'll have trouble with. The only other individual who might know is the sniper; outside those three, he didn't interact with anyone. The eastern man was gone before he appeared. I don't know where he went." Scales said, his ethereal form fading away as he spoke. It probably wasn't easy for him to maintain, but he couldn't talk as a serpent, so I hadn't said anything yet.
"Acceptable. I'm continuing with my previous actions, and I'll make adjustments if needed. You can sleep." I wrote out my statement, and when he finished reading, his ethereal form vanished entirely. He flew up to my shoulder and slithered into the hood, hiding beneath the fabric against the leather chest piece I'd stolen.
I'd have to take note of his operational time, see if it was something he could train, or if it was a restriction of his form. But for now, It's time to rejoin The Hero and find out what happened to The Archer after all of that. It wouldn't do for my comment to have driven him off. I needed The Hero to act, and if he was gone, she might waste time looking for him. So, I'd find him first, and then I'd find The Hero.
I was still upset about the events beyond perception, but with every moment, those feelings faded, replaced with new ones. Excitement filled me, excitement about the world changing, the coming events, and the possibility of something new happening. A new game with new players, a new story told by someone other than me, and a new set of rules I didn't know yet. So much to experience, and after I'd thought I'd seen it all. This was beyond anything I'd expected when I entered that tournament, and I was looking forward to it.