Shadows of the Mind

[Syrathan]

Syrathan emerged from the brush, smug in knowing that the other two were incorrect in their assumption of his position. He motioned with his head toward the one-armed Vanyusha. "We spoke before of forming an independent faction of sorts. I do not think that this is the most inspiring start of our recruiting efforts," he rasped hurriedly toward where he supposed the creature's ear would be.

He thought for a moment. "However...it may work to our advantage. I will return to the cave if you are sure of your physical integrity. His eyes brushed over the wraith's newfound stump for a passing moment.

[Vanyusha]

Vanyusha tilted his head thoughtfully. Over the years he had taken on many followers, so the dragon's explanation wasn't much help. Though it was strange – he rarely ever told his followers about himself, and when they asked he would often lie to satisfy their curiosity. But if this subordinate cared enough to pass down the stories to his descendants, then he must have known him closely. Whatever stories this dragon knew about him were likely embellished, but it was likely they held a grain of truth; and that was all he needed to start remembering.

Traveling with him, however, would be problematic.

His master frequently gave him orders, and sometimes those orders involved quietly snuffing out targets. Disobeying him would not be in his best interests, especially since he relied on his bribes and planning to gather his specimens. As different as they were, his master was one of the few people who understood him and his craft. As much as he wanted to learn about his past, losing a valuable ally wouldn't be worth it. Perhaps it would be possible to take a short leave from his duties.

Syrathan soon emerged from the bushes, interrupting his thoughts. So the boy hadn't left after all. He raised a good point: they had plans of their own, and accompanying the dragon – this Kaevad – would stall them. If he wanted to gather specimens for his... Did he even still want that? Testing mortals interested him, but what as the point of it all? Perhaps accompanying Kaevad and learning more about himself would answer these questions. Then he'd be able to overcome these feelings and return to normal.

He raised his hand. “You raise a good point, Syrathan; however, these recent events have negatively affected my mental state, and I feel that accompanying this Kaevad would help my mind. I do not want these 'emotions' to impede our efforts. You may join me on this journey if you wish, but I do not expect you to.”

Vanyusha looked back to the dragon. “But we do have a small problem. I have an... acquaintance who would be displeased if I were to suddenly leave. This acquaintance often provides me with work in exchange for his assistance, and this work sometimes includes killing mortals. If I were to journey with you, I would need to suspend these duties. I doubt this acquaintance of mine would allow me much time away.”

[Kaevad]

Kaevad's temper flared a moment before he calmed a moment. Orders... orders were given by people. He could find out who, if he was quiet and careful about it... after all, a puppet would only dance as far as his master would allow most times. Without the strings, the puppet would be lost - hopefully. But if what the follower had said was true... well Kaevad would take things one step at a time. He nodded, stiffly.

"I can... understand that... on a level." His words were hesitant and not pleased, but he accepted it. One life or two was better than the thousands slaughtered the follower had ranted of. Kaevad doubted the demon had killed THAT many... however, it probably had been quite a few. The man's tales wove through his mind and Kaevad grimaced internally. "I simply want no part in it." He said firmly before pushing away from the tree. He looked to Syrathan, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "If you come, boy, and decide you'd rather not have my company any more, you'd best be ready to feel the wrath of a dragon. Attempt to kill me and I'll make an 'experiment' out of you of which the likes your master has not seen." he rumbled.

His gaze returned to the wraith. "Talk to your employer then. If you need to get back and forth quickly, I can and will fly you." The faster they got out of there, the better. "I can probably manage the child as well." Vanyusha was the only one roughly his age within a large vicinity, so it was only natural to call him a child - because to him, he was. Still, the insult felt nice on his tongue.

[Syrathan]

Syrathan felt contempt bubbling in him at the monster's blind hubris. Its throat could be slit like any other. Instead of calling his bluff, however, the half-elf took a half-deferent position behind his master. He drew up to his full height, making a show of his natural deadliness.

He hoped Vanyusha would stay with this creature. He would enjoy its flesh.

[Vanyusha]

“I thank you for your offer, but I am not permitted to meet with my associate directly unless given explicit permission. Contacting my associate will likely take some time – perhaps two days or more. I suggest that we meet at a pre-determined area in three days to begin the journey. If I haven't received a response by then, we will work out different arrangements.”

So it was settled. They would travel with this Kaevad until he was able to fill in the blanks about his past, and hopefully put an end to these unpleasant feelings. He wasn't entirely certain how his master would react: While he was fairly confident he'd be allowed the time, he suspected he might be contacted for an assignment or two while away. Kaevad clearly wouldn't like that, but as long as he wouldn't stop him, they had no quarrel. Defying his master was not an option.

Vanyusha's eyes drifted to Syrathan. He could tell that Syrathan didn't exactly care for Kaevad, but that was none of his concern. A fight, while undesirable, seemed likely. “I have no control over Syrathan's actions. He is an ally, not a servant. But I do request, Syrathan, that you hold off on whatever you wish to attempt until I am able to rectify my problem. Otherwise it will be difficult to further our plans. But if you wish to ignore my request, that is your choice. Just be aware that I will remain neutral in the proceedings.”

He looked back at Kaevad. “Where shall we congregate? I would prefer that we wouldn't meet at my home, as revealing its location would be... undesirable. I also suspect that I am no longer welcome in this village.”

[Kaevad]

The dragon snorted in dark amusement at Vanyusha's obvious statement. "Indeed not. I have a cave I am currently residing in - just east of here by perhaps half a mile. You are welcome to meet me there." If the wraith and his puppet decide to meet him there, Kaevad would have time to slowly shift into a full dragon. Less painful... and the method of travel would be faster. He would also have time to rest and perhaps catch a few of the suns rays.

"In the mean time, I shall await your arrival." He rumbled, pushing away from the tree and moving away and into the shadows. What the hell are you thinking!? Kaevad's human yelled as he moved away, causing the man to wince. Fool, even I know of his plans. Lure them away, kill them far away from the other petty mortals. Kaevad rolled his eyes as the dragon purred. Perhaps even eat the elf's heart... it seemed juicy and ripe with rage... such a delicious treat. The human gagged and Kaevad shook his head, his pace quick as he sought to make it home to rest.

How can you think about eating at a time like this? The human hissed, clearly displeased. We're about to travel with a wraith, and a murderer. Changers only know what else that sick pair does... Nothing I wouldn't if I wasn't trapped within this weak fool's mind. "Enough, both of you." Kaevad growled, irked not only with the fight, but with the pain that throbbed through his body from the abrupt and quick change. He wasn't looking forward to a full shift. At least he had time to do it slowly this time, give his body time to adjust... Changers this would hurt. The thought displeased him further as he stalked into his cave, spitting fire at the prepared pit. The heat and pain from the action only served to irritate him further. Idiot - he was half dragon, not whole. Cursing he moved to his pack and dug out some venison he'd prepared, snapping a bite down when he grabbed it, chewing angrily.

He hated shifting. He hated that he was about to go out of his way to help a murderer and a wraith. But, in doing both, he was helping to protect innocents. Ignorant innocents - which was something he could appreciate. The fewer that knew of him, the better. The image of the ghost-seer and his woman flashed into his mind, causing the shifter to clench his jaws. He'd need to track the boy down again, eventually. He WOULD tell him what he saw - one way or another. Growling and settling down well within the sun's reach, the dragon man dozed, waiting for the first early light.

[Syrathan]

Syrathan was pondering something, but getting himself out of it and back into the tangible world made him forget what it was. "I don't feel well," he remarked. The half-elf wondered what was coming over him. He almost never became ill, and when he did, the symptoms usually dropped upon him rather than slowly coming into place. Curious, but not of import at the moment.

Perhaps he could avoid a confrontation with the dragon creature by bidding Vanyusha to go meet it at its cave while Syrathan rested in their own abode. For some indescribable reason, he felt anxious at having to accompany the wraith. Should he voice these opinions, or keep quiet and wait for more of the situation to develop?

"It is no matter; I will follow where you lead. Do not count on my being intricately involved in whatever conversation may take place." His words were little more than a mumble. "I'm going to fetch my horse. I'll catch up." And he ambled off, striving to remain imperious in his foggy state, not quite caring what Vanyusha decided to do.

[Vanyusha]

Vanyusha’s eyes remained on the shadows that once held Kaevad. When he first planned for this assignment, he thought he had considered all possible outcomes. After tonight he could see he was mistaken.

A crippling problem and a possible solution – both had arisen in the same night. Though he knew little about this Kaevad, he knew that he had to follow him to continue with his experiments. These mortal feelings would hinder his work, so his master would surely understand him taking a short leave to deal with the problem. Finding the reason behind these emotions would allow him to shed them and move on.

He paused. Would it?

If the answers somehow made him worse, then how could he exist? His work was his life, and he couldn’t work if his experiments pained him. Perhaps he was worrying for nothing, but it was a possibility. His eyes drifted to his arm. His path was set: if he could no longer work, then he would destroy himself. A life without experimenting wasn’t worth living. He would reconsider if he discovered something more worthwhile on his journey, but the odds of that were slim.

“Syrathan,” he called after his apprentice, “we are heading back to the cave first – I need to prepare a message before we leave. Feel free to rest in the meantime.”

[Kaevad]

The sun rose, its early rays warming the fully shifted dragon as he lay at the cave's entrance, thus waking the large reptile. Scales shimmered slightly as his body moved slowly, dragging himself further into the sun, his wings spreading as much as they could to catch as many rays as possible. He would wait for the wraith, and his minion, and would take them far away. Home... Changers he hadn't thought he'd be traveling back so soon...

The dragon breathed a deep breath, the warm air causing plants and small trees to sway from the force. It would be a long journey, one he would have to make fairly quickly if he wanted to avoid orders from the wraith's... master. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind. He did not wish to think of such orders. Instead he resigned himself to wait, tail curled around him and wings spread wide as he dozed in the sun.

[Syrathan]

Illness had swept across Syrathan, leaving him in a haze. Paragon and Bastion seemed to be similarly incapacitated. Unfortunate and rather annoying, he mused, but not a complete loss. I shall recuperate in Vanyusha's lair before it becomes a problem. He still gritted his teeth at the annoyance of it; he hated the dirty feeling he felt in his mind.

Paragon trudged on, carrying its load with complete apathy. The weathered path carried his hooves with as little care. Where was Vanyusha? No matter; he knew the way back to the cave even in his state. What Syrathan worried about was the demon shifter; indeed, the sense of foreboding pierced even his illness-induced lethargy. Ill indeed.

[Tell]

Tell walked through the flames of a burning building, but the fire did not touch him. Wherever his footsteps echoed through the glowing red halls the fires parted, revealing old and rotting lumber which appeared nearly as combustible as quality firewood.

The purple clad mage walked through the dream of a peasant. A farmer or some such simpleton’s role. He did not often visit such dreams, but then such dreams rarely involved this striking level of destruction. Tell’s green crystal ball floated lazily behind him like an insect on a hot summer day. Every once in a while it flitted ahead of him over burning rubble and collapsing supports. As a particularly large piece of debris fell towards him, Tell put a hand to his chin and pondered the cause of this chaos. Just before the flaming pillar hit him, it shattered into thousands of shards. Tell did not seem to note its presence at all.

Muttering incoherently, more flames parted as he entered a doorway. Within he saw four figures, one of which held a infant. Tell’s eyes widened, and he paused it all. The fires were frozen still with but a wave of his hand and the building refused to make so much as a creak of noise. Even the dreamer himself was still in time, his sobbing form lying prostrate across the floor before the being who held his child. Tell was fairly certain the prone man was still aware; the one thing the mage could not touch within dreams was the mind.

Tell strode over the dreamer’s form to touch the skull of the figure holding the child. His hand caressed the edge, and he realized suddenly that the skull was a part of the being. He looked down at the child held by the creature’s tendrils. It was an innocent creature, born to the world only recently. The wizard stared at it. A stray thought caused it to disappear; it was there one instant, gone the next.

He turned to his left and right, to which he saw a dragon and half-breed. Perhaps the mule was an assassin. He looked the part, with his blackened leather. Tell wondered briefly if the figure had been overheating in the burning building, clad as he was.

The dragon was half formed into a human being. He was interesting as well. He walked over to the dragon-man.

He would have to do. The other figure was awake, but the dragon slumbered.

Tell spread his arms as the world unfroze. The sobbing man looked on in horror as Tell made a motion as if he were attempting to compress something invisible between his hands. As he strained to push them together, the dream-dragon became a silhouette filled with stars lit from below by the red glow of fire. Tell ducked through his newly created portal and left the stunned peasant behind.

Fire. There was more fire. Tell felt as if he was somewhere unfamiliar, and turned himself into an invisible, intangible spirit. This fire was different than the one before. It was not the home he had just been in. Had he still his mouth and lips, he would have hissed in displeasure. Tell studied his surroundings. Earth and dirt beneath him, small buildings beside him, the wizard arrived at the conclusion he had entered some tiny, backwater village.

Tell caused his awareness to grow. He became a great invisible giant, his form as malleable in dreams as he wished it to be. From the clouds above, the fringes of the dream, he turned his focus below and found the dream’s core surrounding the dragon.

He condensed himself in that area, silently watching the proceedings. A dozen corpses lie around a sobbing dragon, in full and terrible form, clutching the body of a woman. Tell marveled at the dragon’s tears. No matter how many times he witnessed the act, a dragon crying was an enthralling experience.

But this village was useless to him. Tell knew nothing of the occurrences here beyond that which he could see: an ill-advised bandit raid and a dead woman. He looked around, admiring the scenery, and wondered that the dragon had been so composed in the burning building from before if this petty slaughter so troubled him.

Tell turned the woman to ash which flowed through Kaevad’s claws, a possibility forming in his mind. A thought caused the rubble of the burning and destroyed village to float through the air past the confused dragon. The splintered wood and heavy stone tore the thin membranes of the dragon’s wings as they coalesced to create the house which Tell had seen in the last dream. As the building constructed itself Tell intangibly flew through the storm of fire and perched himself on the freshly made rooftop. When the last piece set itself into place, he finally took form as the woman in the dragon’s claws. She formed out the ashes of the fire and sat with a mocking, crazed smile on her face.

Tell laughed and laughed, the woman’s head tilted skyward. “The fire! The flames!” She yelled between her howling. “They follow you everywhere!”

[Vanyusha]

Vanyusha tried to sleep that night.

His eyes glowed in the darkness as he lay in the corner of his chamber, staring vacantly at the cave wall. It was a futile effort. Though he had never actually attempted to sleep before, the fact that he never tired convinced him long ago that his body was incapable of the function. The possibility of a brief respite from the images plaguing his mind had pushed him to try, but as the hours went on he could tell he was wasting his time. But there was nothing else to turn to, so he remained motionless on his blanket, hoping for the impossible.

The sensation had grown worse since leaving the village. Visions of that child and her mother festered within him like a disease. Was it guilt that he felt? No, he had killed many like them before, so it was illogical for him to regret that now. This malaise had him by the throat, its grip tightening with each passing moment. He was beginning to lose interest in his experiments, and without his experiments he was nothing. His eyes drifted to his stump of an arm, and he reminded himself of his earlier decision. If he couldn’t shake these feelings and continue his experiments, then he had no reason to continue his existence in this world.

He rose and walked back to the cell where he held the children from earlier. They were huddled together, asleep and free from their torment – at least for the time being. He envied them. As he stared at the children, his eyes shining down on them, he wondered why he even bothered to test them. What was to be gained from feeding them a corpse? The reaction, of course, but he could barely remember it now. He tried to rationalize putting so much time and effort into seeing that loss of innocence, but he couldn’t.

And why spend his life researching these same mortal emotions, especially when he would forget them so quickly? Why had he devoted his life to this?

It was illogical.

Illogical.

He would kill them if he could. They were mocking him! Those brats wanted him to know they could escape their pain and he couldn’t. No matter what he did to them, what he took from them, they had the strength to do what he couldn’t. He could use a loophole like he did with an infant, but he wanted the satisfaction of strangling these mongrels basking in the peace that eluded him. Such filth deserved nothing less. He was done with them. They could starve in their cell for all he cared.

“Syrathan!” Vanyusha called suddenly as he stepped into the cave’s main chamber. “It is morning – we shall set out to the dragon’s lair shortly. Prepare yourself for the journey.”

[Kaevad]

He hadn't meant to fall asleep. The sun had been warm, energizing, soothing... all of which had lulled him into sleep. Which then ripped his tortured soul into the astral plane and into a nightmare. He was killing them again, the village on fire, the screams tore through the air and made his ears ring. His claws shredded through familiar face after familiar face, their blood pouring in rivers down his claws, staining the earth. He screamed in his mind to stop - please just end it all - when Kyla's heart slid down he howled.

Then the dream changed. It never changed - so when Kyla turned to ash in his claws, all his anger directed itself at the force responsible. They allowed him to suffer the nightmare, then dared to turn the first love of his life into ash. This demon dared violate his memory - no matter how hellish it was - and make it worse. Then the rubble flew by him - ripped through his wings, agony causing him to snarl. He was considering returning the attack somehow when his his rebuilt itself and Kyla materialized atop it. His heart thudded hard, and his mouth went dry.

Tell laughed and laughed, the woman’s head tilted skyward. “The fire! The flames!” She yelled between her howling. “They follow you everywhere!” This wasn't Kyla... His nostril's flared. "Aye, tends te happen when ye be a dragon." He rumbled thickly, moving so he was eye to eye with the woman that was Kyla but wasn't Kyla. He drew back his lips into a snarl, fire licking at his teeth. "Now who are you, mad thing? And what is it ye desire from me?"

[Syrathan]

Syrathan was about to fall over. He stumbled over to where he had slept and promptly did so. The wind was only partially knocked out of him, something he hadn't foreseen. Oh. The bundle of joy was speaking to him. Pity he would taste terrible. Get up? Not a chance. Syrathan threw a long finger his way and tried to tell him as much, but only succeeded in mumbling incoherently. Why am I even here? I was faring better...on...the road... And with that, Syrathan fell asleep.

Instantly, he was there as a child, holding the bloody knife and kneeling in front of his first kill. It was a tawny rabbit, slight but enough meat for a little stew. Dad would be very proud of him. Funny, he didn't feel like a child. Sure enough, he had on his blackened leather and the knife was his dirk, not the wide hunting knife he perfectly remembered using. Syrathan got the distinct feeling this wasn't all that was off with this dream. The sickening feeling was growing.

Oh, look. Father. Are you proud of me, Father? Are you proud of what I've done? What I've yet to do?

[Tell]

From his perch, Tell turned his head and fixed one eye upon the dragon below. A simple trick caused the eye to grow disproportionately. The dragon bristled in rage at the defilement of his dead love. Tell only blinked, snapping her features back into proportion. “‘Tis not wise to ask what I want from you, ‘tis what I wish of those around you.” Tell waved a hand and spun atop his precipice. The shadows of the buildings grew in size and magnitude they coalesced at the base of the burning house, trapped as it was in eternal flame, into the shape of Vanyusha.

Tell stood atop the building, dancing among the flames in the dead girl’s skin. Both Vanyusha’s shape and the dead chanted in unison, “Mighty dragon, mighty dragon, couldn’t save the one you loved. You did now know your place, yours is to steal them away and die before a knight. Not to slay them. Never to slay.” Tell stopped dancing. He turned her form to ash and let it fall back into the house. It began to collapse as Tell made it burn properly. “Your kind is ever the paradox. The epitome of power, beset by man. Is it not strange that those of yours who kill are failures?”

The dragon growled and rumbled, considering its options. Its eyes narrowed upon the shape of the white prophet. Tell saw the dream slipping away, great fractures working their way across the surface of reality. Tell made Vanyusha multiply as the dream collapsed. Thousands upon thousands of Vanyushas filled a blurring, dying world.

Tell was jarred roughly from the dream. He wore a faint smile upon his lips, but by the darkness of his surroundings you could not see it. He closed his eyes and reset his focus to his meditation.

It was a new dream. His surroundings were cool and breezy. He began to perceive them more accurately, and found he was in a patch of woodlands. A boy knelt before his father, or would be if he were a boy. There was the dreamer.

Tell chose to waste no time. Tell fixed the murky haze which surrounded them. The world came into a strange hyper-focus in which every detail stood out. One could suddenly notice the glistening of the man’s saliva on his lips, the small chips on his nails and the tiniest imperfection of his skin. Each blade of grass was its own entity, each was a distinct form in what was once an ambiguous sea of green.

Tell reached out his intangible hand, already a formless, invisible thing, and touched the back of the father’s head. The response was immediate, as the man leapt forwards and grabbed for his son’s neck.

Tell let his true shape appear behind the man. The strange filter he had put upon reality did not touch him, leaving him normal yet seeming blurred, nearly faded, through sheer contrast. The sole exception to the rule, his eyes were clear as they watched the struggle. He steps carried him not two feet from the father and son, where he stopped and waited.

Tell waved tilted his head and the father’s assault became sloppy. There was ample opportunity for the half elf to escape, particularly if he was willing to fight off his aggressor. Tell’s vigil was unbroken, those distinct eyes staring down with patience and interest.