For a bit, nothing happens. You can hear Naba's heavy breathing, and a faint humming which grows in intensity, and you realize it is the Ur'Sehkk and her priests. Occasionally she speaks in her soothing, rich voice.. "Relax. Breath deeply. Do not fear, what you see cannot harm you." she intones.

Shapes and colors begin to appear within your mind, blues and reds and purples, swirling together...slowly they coalesce into strange creatures, which peer at you curiously, as you find yourself walking through a tunnel of color.

Suddenly a figure appears, stocky, short, and humanoid, but the image is blurry, a blob of shadow, and you cannot see them clearly. It raises a clawed hand toward you, and the tunnels melts away.

You see a clump of strange white mushrooms. They are sickly and deformed, a sickness taking them, save for one, a smaller one away from the others, which seems untouched by the blight, but only barely.

The images fade, and you see a tree, twisted and knobby, deep in the forest. It looks to be badly burnt. On the tree you see a strange symbol, like some sort of horned beast. Hanging from the tree by his neck, you see a young-adult bhaan man, arms and legs bound. He has been brutally savaged, his heart torn from his chest, thick blood pouring down his stomach and dripping into a pile of burnt corpses and ashes. You smell smoke and charred flesh, and wisps of ash trail through the air like snow. You see bodies everywhere, burned and and ravaged. Like a battlefield, or a slaughter. Overhead, something large and avian flies through the darkness.

Darkness swirls around you, and find yourself in a cavern, wet, humid, musty, and hot. Somethings stirs in the darkness, something massive. Something with many horns and tails and rows and rows of sharp, gnashing teeth. Blood begins to ooze from the walls, pouring into the cavern. Fear takes you, and you seek a way out, but cannot find it. You begin to scream, as the dark and terrible thing laughs from the shadows, a laugh of pure evil and malice.

You feel yourself being lifted out of bed by a pair of strong hands. You're confused. Scared. A bhaan man is carrying you, rushing you down a stone hallway. You see others, both hyn and bhaan, trying to rush your fellow children out of their beds and down the hallway. You hear his words of reassurance, but outside you hear screams of terror, pleas of desperation, shouts of anger, and... horrible... nightmarish shrieks. A cross between a scream and a roar. You smell smoke, fire. But someone is missing... something.... something isn't there that should Be there... what is it?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
You suddenly find yourself, once more your proper age, floating aimlessly, upside down, in an eerie purple void. Around you, 'swimming' through the air are strange, fish-like creatures. A few of them inspect you curiously, but most pay you no heed.

He attempts to ward off the sickening disorientation that takes him, but to no avail. Awakening in a purple void as opposed to a bed in the healing ward concerns him even further.

"..hello? Where am I? What.. no, I.. I'm supposed to fetch Serethu'koa, if I do not they'll.. never let me speak to her again.." he finishes at a mumble, staring at the odd, fish-like creatures which pay him little mind. "Hello?"

One of the fish-creatures looks at you curiously, but after a moment, swim/floats off. Several more float by, but none of them say a word to you.

After a moment, what appears to be a whole school of tiny fish-things swarm around you, some of them trying to nibble at you it seems. Suddenly, they dart off as if startled. So do the other fish, leaving you now alone in this strange, seemingly endless, purple void...

He contracts into a fetal position awkwardly as the many tiny fish try to devour him (allegedly), releasing it suddenly as they spook, flailing his arms and tail around trying to generate some form of movement so he can look around for whatever startled them.

After a few moments of shameful, ineffective flailing, you learn how to generate some degree of movement, and are able to right yourself somewhat and look around; you appear to be in an infinite, cloudy, purple void in every direction...it is very hard to see clearly, and quite disorienting, and when the fish-things are out of view, it becomes doubly so as you no longer have any sense of what is right side up...

Suddenly, you notice two things. The first is what looks to be a small, red glowing 'seam', some distance below you and to the right. Perhaps 30' or so. Its not very big, perhaps the length of your forearm, but its there, its glow cutting through the purple void.

The second thing, is something...really, really, really big heading slowly in your direction, from where the fish-things were coming from. Its a distance away, and little more than a vague, amorphous shape in the purple void, but it looks to be the size of your Qirneq, at the Least.

He sqints into the darkness hopelessly, "Ooohhkay.. wake-up Tareq.. Please wake up just.. Awake!" He tries to shock himself 'awake' and out of this endless purple void space. Catching sight of the small red glowing line he pauses his attempts, trying to focus his movements to propel himself toward it, slowly at first, but then with sudden, desperate effort as the massive shape in the distance seems to move toward him, visions of the cavern monster returning many times over. "No no nono no.. Please don't let this be my long sleep.. I'm not ready! I need to go back! She needs me! ..well, somebody.. but I think I can help her.. at least.."

Clumsily, awkwardly, you 'swim' through the inky purple towards the glowing crimson seam, the ominous shape slowly but surely making its way closer, gradually overtaking your progress...

Finally, you make to the red seam, crimson light oozing out of it, through an opening large enough to fit your fingers through at least.

From the seam, you detect, just Barely audible...sound. Its very faint, muffled, and distant...but its sound. The sound of screaming.

He continues his movement progress as diligently as he can, desperate to escape from the massive, forboding.. thing that pursues him, himself quiet as well, save for his grunts of frantic exertion, the oppressive silence of the place driving him to try to keep silent himself. He perks up though as his ears finally notice the faint sounds, emanating from the red glowing.. seam? "Paddling" toward it eagerly, trying to grasp its edge like a ledge? Hoping he can use it to anchor himself in this directionless void, only then identifying the sound itself as faint, muffled screaming and he stares into the seam/crack of light in horror, trying vainly to backpaddle away from it.

"Wait, no! Are you that memory-dream, whatever?? I don't want to see it! Take it back!"

You are able to push yourself backward through sheer surprise and terror through the inky purple mire. But the great vastness continues to close in on you...growing ever larger each passing moment.

He shifts direction, attempting to "swim" "up" or at least.. the direction which seemed to be 'most upward' when the fish things were pestering him before, hoping there may be some.. surface transition? Perhaps something else he's missing.. He scans around, trying to find any other sort of landmark in the swirling, formless void and he paddles desperately.

You take your best guess at 'upward' and propel yourself through the inky, purposeless void, as the massive shape grows closer, and closer...suddenly, you spot another seam, this one blue, directly in your path. Faintly, you hear sound coming from it...a voice. Barely a murmur, but you can hear your Temma's rich voice, calm and upbeat, coming from the blue seam.

Tareq does a double-take as he recognizes Beseta's voice, the movement feeling odd even to him, in this formless, cloudy void-space. "Temma? Temma!! I'm Here!! Temma help! I don't know what's happened!" He hollers semi-coherently as he grabs at the blue light seam trying to drag himself to it, reaching an arm inside hoping.. maybe she can pull him through??

You drag yourself to the seam, with the great shape growing ever closer...its so close now...

As you reach your arm inside the seam, you hear a strange "*POP*" sound, and then you hear Temma's voice...

"Yes sweetheart, everything is fine. It's only a storm. We are safe."

As you peer through the crack, you can see her, sitting on a bed...your bed, the one in the qirneq. There's a thunderstorm outside, and she's cradling you in her arms. You're not very old; in fact you're very young. About the same age you were in the earlier dream, maybe a little older. Bawling and clinging to her for dear life, as she holds you close and strokes your hair, speaking to you in her calm, reassuring voice.

"Temma! Please I- ..temma?" He stares at the pair in consternation, belatedly recognizing himself already a part of this scene. "I don't.. understand. Temma, it's not a storm, it's something else.. please, I need your help.. I don't understand what's happening.. Temma??" He attempts to pry the seam opening apart, to make space to pull more of himself through, hoping at least to have a chance to try to figure out what to do about the inexorable blob, if nothing else..

As you pry, the seam parts, further and further, revealing more of the scene. Your bedroom, back at the Qirneq, exactly as it looked when you were a child. A memory flickers within your mind, a memory of this moment, a memory that once resided inside that empty space within your mind.

This happened.

You lived this moment.

The great vastness is almost upon you. You see it begin to split, revealing a gigantic maw of sharp teeth...and inside that maw, blood, and fire.

Tareq wrestles with the knowing of this moment and how it can be that he can know it, have known it, and now step into it.. very briefly, glancing back to check on the progress of the blobmonster and takes one look at the parting maw of teeth, blood and fire and hurls himself through the seam/hole with all the grace of a birthing wyr'jakk.

You go through the seam with a *POP*, just as the massive jaws close behind you! You tumble to the ground as awkwardly as you crawled through the hole, landing with a heap in your old room. Your mother and your younger self seem completely oblivious to your presence, your Temma continuing to rock your child-self and sing a soothing lullaby as you stand in the darkness. Outside, through the window, a storm rages, a violent crimson-colored storm like none you have ever seen before.

He groans loudly as he collapses onto the floor, panting after his unusual and largely fruitless exertions, resulting in almost not escaping a most terrible and grisly fate. Once he has caught his breath a bit he sits up gingerly, checking quickly to make sure all of his extremities still exist and seem to be in working order, tail included. "Krell! I really thought I- uh.. oh." He falters, seeing no response from Beseta or the tiny version of himself curled up in her lap, feeling oddly unsettled to both recall this exact moment, and be witnessing it from across the room. He pads over toward them quietly, claws clicking despite his efforts, pivoting to get a look at his own, very young face, at once familiar, and so different. "How.. is this possible? The other memories are so.. broken. Why is this one.. so solid?" He shift his attention to the storm out the window, trying to remember the exact details of the storm beyond and the scene within. "I could not speak. Did I tell you that? I did not want the smoke to get out.. if I talked the smoke came out, I couldn't let it.. though I do not know.. how that could be.."

Looking outside the window, you see nothing but an angry purple swirl of color beyond the immediate rain and red clouds...its as if this room, and the storm just outside, is floating within the weird purple void, like a pocket or something...

On the bed, Beseta continues to cradle your little self, cooing softly and singing lullabies. The memory of the night is faint, but there. You have a sense that, now, as an adult, smoke probably wouldn't actually have come out of your mouth; surely someone would have noticed that. But at the time, you were absolutely convinced that smoke would pour out of your mouth if you spoke, if you uttered a word about the horrors you'd seen, horrors you can no longer remember.

He scans the room, checking to see if there are any other exits from this room and if the seam/hole he entered through still remains, then steps closer to the pair, hesitating, but waving a hand in front of Beseta's face, trying to catch her attention, then putting a hand lightly on her shoulder. "Temma?"

A cursory scan of the room reveals no immedient exits, though the seam in which you entered remains, a purple hole in reality about 6' in the air, which Beseta and your younger selves remain oblivious too. She gives no response to your hand waving in her face either. When you touch her shoulder, it feels sort of like sticking your fingers into...not quite mud, not quite sugar. Your fingers go 'through' her shoulder, sending up little swirls of purple, and as you pull your hand back, little tendrils of purple wisp around them and float up like dust, before reforming back into her normal shoulder.

"NOo! I'm so sorry, I didn't.. mean to.." he trails off, watching the wisps of.. grainy smoke? Slowly swirl and reform into proper form. "What IS this place? Hello?" He paces the room, touching the walls at random points and testing whether his hands press through them the same way they did Temma's shoulder.

They do indeed, each flaking off wisps of swirling purple, which then quickly reform into whatever surface they are appearing to be, though no one answers your call.

The memory of this night faintly lingers in your mind. It was not long after the horrible thing, the thing you can't remember. You'd come to this strange place, so familiar yet so different. And then the storm had come up and the nightmares came, and you woke up sobbing. And then the nice woman, the one you came to call Temma, had come into your room and comforted you. And it was the first time in a while you had felt safe and secure. And you had wanted to tell her the horrible things, but you knew...you KNEW, if you did, the smoke would come out of your mouth. The monsters would come again.

He paces the room, staring out through the tear in the wall he entered through, trying to catch sight of the monstrous mouth that chased him in here in the first place. "What.. am I supposed to do? Is this a test? Am I.. supposed to tell you those things now? But how can I? I do not remember them.. just.. that there was fire, and smoke.. and screams and.. roaring. I was.. in it again, before I came here.. If I was supposed to remember it, why am I Here instead of there? Why bring me here.. WHO brought me here?"

He pauses, brows furrowed. "I..shouldn't even be here, I need to get Back." He peeks out through the hole again, wondering if there was a 3rd seam he just didn't see, that might return him.. to his waking self?

Peeking through the purple hole, you see nothing but an endless purple void outside.

However, as you pace the room, you notice something at the edge of your bed, the one Beseta and your younger self are sitting on. Looks like the edge of a book of some kind, with some sheafs of paper crammed into them, but its mostly hidden under the bed. You only just notice is from the angle you're at.

"Maybe.. maybe I could make it, I don't See it out there.. but.. where would I go?" He frowns into the purple void, wondering if that massive thing could be hovering just out of sight somehow, waiting for him. He shakes his head, stopping at the sight of the book, nearly hidden, tickling at a memory of.. drawings? Secrets?

He moves toward the book at the edge of the bed, reaching for it carefully, trying to figure out how he can possibly look at it if it just wisps away like sand and back like everything else and tries to.. will it into solidity? "Just.. be a book for me.. please?"

As you touch it...it wisps slightly, but remains intact.

He tugs on it gently, pulling it from the bed, trying very carefully to keep it intact. If successful, he will examine the front cover and carefully open it, glancing at Temma and himself on the bed nervously, in case they might.. suddenly jump up and start screaming or something.

The book remains intact. Summoning a deep breath, you open it, but your Temma and younger self only continue to sit on the bed, Temma comforting the little you. You notice some of her words are a repeat of what she said earlier, as if... she's looped somehow.

Opening the book, you see it is a childrens book of nursary rhymes. There are some scrawled, low quality paper stuffed inside, the sort produced as scrap for children to work their lessons or draw on with cheap colorful wax sticks. On this paper are some scribbled drawings, in a childs hand. The one you open the book too, depicts three humanoids; one large, horned, clearly a childs version of a bhaan, alongside a small, nubbed humanoid in blue, which you suspect may be yourself, and a second figure you dont recognize, small, white, furry, with a tail. There appears to be some sort of scribble on one side of the white humanoids face. Also in the picture is a crate of what looks like mushrooms, maybe?

He blinks as Temma appears to repeat her comments, relaxing somewhat and refocusing on the images, trying to remember crafting them and identifying the people in them. "..why are there Always mushrooms? We.. must've grown a Lot of them.. maybe, he let me help? Somehow?"

He squints down at the smaller white floof-friend with the mismatched eyes. "And who are You? You.. almost look like a little A'kop'oba.. Maybe that's.. supposed to be a scar?" He muses over the figures, flipping the paper over to see if there's anything on the back before checking the next image.

There is something familiar about the figures, both the grown bhaan and the little white thing; a fondness...but you cannot for the life of you place them. Its as though you know them, yet haven't a clue who they are. On the back, you see in child's scribbled writing; "Me, Brother, and Mush-room"

The next page is much less pleasant. It has a bunch of trees, charred and burnt. There are fires everywhere. The tall bhaan is hanging and blood is dripping down from him. The little bhaan, and 'mush-room' are crying. There is another white figure, this one larger than 'mush-room', but otherwise similar, a white humanoid with a tail and claws. Disturbingly, however, it is also drawn as covered in blood, holding what is presumably the larger bhaans heart, with an evil smile, and holding what looks like some sort of weapon, a dagger of some kind? A sword? Its hard to tell. The brutal material, mixed with the child-like art style, is extremely unsettling, as is the sense you have LIVED this, yet cannot remember it.

"Mush-room.. surely that.. was not your name? Perhaps.. it is what I called you?" He flips the picture back to look at the group of them again, noticing the mushroom shapes at its feet this time before staring at the next picture shock and sadness, swallowing heavily and remembering not the memory, but the first mixed memory-vision which prominently featured mushroom, a burned forest and his hanged, butchered brother. "..smoke indeed. I.. guess that one.. was truth then.. How was I shown it though? That place.. was NOT this place.." he scans the room around, glancing at the storm beyond the window and the swirling purple void beyond.

Outside the vortex continues to swirl, without purpose or meaning.

He turns back to the drawings with a sigh, inspecting the second one more closely, trying to pick out any sort of identifying mark/shape that might help him recognize the knife/sword in real life, frowning at the larger white but bloody figure and its similarity to Mush-room, trying to gauge the larger white figure's size compared to the larger bhann's body.

Its rather difficult to accurately gauge them, given the child-quality of the pieces, but the bloody white figure is far more comparable to the bhaan than to either of the smaller figures. The weapon it carries appears to have something of a curved, even hook-like quality to it.

He shakes his head at the picture grimly, flipping it over to check for further notes or names before examining the next drawing.

On the back of the picture, scrawled in childs handwriting is the cryptic caption "the blud man"

The next drawing is equally disturbing. A giant blob of darkness, but with two glowing red eyes in the center, and flames along the sides of the page. It brings to mind your vision of the terrible laughing evil..

Tareq flips the picture back to look at the white humanoid with blood colored all over it. "Blood man.. that sounds.. awful, and accurate."

He shuffles it out of the way and stares at the third image warily. "No.. that cannot be Really real, can it?" He flips it over warily, checking for writing.

No writing. Just an ominous, creepy drawing from the mind of an apparently troubled child...

Suddenly however, you hear a faint voice from under the bed.

"...something in the kitchen.."

He freezes for a moment, clutching the book and drawings tightly before leaping back across the room, as far as he can get from the bed! He slowly and quietly leans down, peering under the bed with its looped Temma and little Tareq still rocking upon it. "..who said that?"

Though you get no answer, when you peer beneath the bed, you see another 'seam' on the floor, this one glowing red....the voice seems to be coming from there.

"..well That's not ominous at all.." He checks on looped Temma and Tareq, making sure they are still looping properly and not doing any other weird stuff and opens the book again, checking to see if there are any other drawings tucked inside and/or written/scribbled into the book itself before investigating the seam-under-the-bed any further.

Looped Temma and Tareq are functioning properly it seems, and not doing anything weird at all, within the context of this bizarre situation. You see no other drawings, but there a bunch of weird scribbled writings which you can't make heads or tails of, much of it repeating the same scribbled words over and over and over on page after page. It looks very 'angrily' written, with harsh lines and a lot of black blobs covering up mistakes, and many pages almost completely blacked out. Whoever wrote this, must of had a lot of anger and fear bottled up.

From within the seam you hear a faint childs voice. "Tareq, wake up...something in the kitchen..."

He flips several pages, trying to make horns or tails of the angry scribblings before finally closing the book once more, making sure the extra pages are tucked safely within and returning his attention to the seam under the bed apprehensively. Tareq tries to identify the voice as he carefully edges toward the bed, lowering himself to the floor and peering through the seam, trying to locate the source of the voice and whatever version of himself it seems to be speaking to.

It's a young childs voice. There is something familiar about it, though you can't place it.

Then you hear another voice; a childs voice, an even more familiar one. You realize its your own voice, just very young. "What? It's probably just a varmint. Where is Kython?"

"He is down the hill. Please Tareq, I'm scared..." says the first voice again.

The voices sound distant, echoey. You notice is seam is starting to fade.

"Wait, no!" He grabs at the seam edge, trying to pry it open and hurl himself through like before, holding the book in his teeth so as not to lose it.

With all the grace of a birthing wyr'jakk, you manage to tear the seam open enough to crawl clumsily too, landing with a thwack on the stone floor of a large room. Thankfully, it doesn't hurt. Memories flood back to you, dim but solid...this was your old sleeping quarters, back at Qirn-Bynehk. You see a younger version of yourself, the same age, perhaps slightly younger than the one you just saw, crawling out of bed, wearing a pair of patched pajama's. Next to your bed are two hyn children of comparable age, a little dark skinned girl with a large puff of dark coily hair, and a little blond haired boy with a twisted back.

Rissa. Tamual.

Their names pop into your mind clear as day. They were your friends. Maybe your first friends.

Down the hallway, in what you instinctively know is the direction of the kitchen, you hear something banging around.

"See?" says Rissa, pleading.

"Ok. I'll go look." the little you says.

In your mouth, the book is quickly disintegrating into wispy strands of purple smoke, which smells to your nostrils like... some kind of fruit snack.

Tareq grimaces preemptively as he falls toward the floor, expecting the pain of collision, blinking in surprise when the impact doesn't hurt. He rights himself, pulling the book carefully from his teeth, eyes widening in distress as it disintegrates, trying to reform it together despite being unable to hold the swirling bits of purple smoke. He sniffs at the curling coils, brows furrowing in confusion. "Why.. fruit?"

Heaving a heavy sigh he turns his attention to his young friends, blinking sadly as their names suddenly appear in his mind. "Oh Rissa.. how did I not remember you two? Did you.. make it out? Did I.. watch you- I hope not." He rises heavily, listening to his younger self. "Very well.. let us go then.."

The three children, oblivious to your presence, begin heading down the stone hallway, your younger self cautiously taking the lead, heroically wielding a stickball stick, the other two timidly following behind. You can hear noises coming from the kitchen, and you can sense the childrens fear as they go to investigate. It hangs heavy in the air, a sense of palpable dread, intense and suffocating.

"B-be careful, Tareq..." whispers Rissa, clinging to your little arm.

"Lets...be quiet as we can." little you whispers back, as they head slowly down the dimly lit hallway.

He instinctively slows his steps, padding as quietly as he can as well when his younger self whispers, trying not to feel their same fear.. His fear. To distract himself he touches the stone wall as they go, testing it's stability versus sandy-swirlingness within this seam.

The stone wall reacts the same as Beseta did, offering resistance but ultimately turning into swirls of purple mist before reforming...

As the children and you creep into the kitchen, you see a small figure sitting in the middle of the floor. A crate of mushrooms has been busted open and spilled onto the stone floor, as well as some of the other foodstuffs. A few cupboards are open as well. In the dim light, its hard to get a good look at the little figure, save that it is light colored, naked, and has a long tail, and is noisily stuffing its face with the mushrooms and other foodstuffs. It looks sort of like a yhan'jinn, being of similar size and profile as best you can tell.

He lifts his hands as if to open a book he's holding, stares at them and sighs, trying to move into the room without moving 'through' his child-self or the other children, but hoping to maneuver into the room to get a better look at the small white figure who most certainly appears to be 'Mush-room'.

As you begin to move, so do the children. Suddenly, the creatures ears pop erect, and it whirls with a loud hiss!

"Ahhhh!" the three children shriek, practically in unison, Rissa bolting back down the hallway, Tamuel stumbling backward and falling into a counter. Little tareq flails wildly at the air with his stick.

The creature shrieks as well, bolting backwards, crashing into the counter. It rebounds off, bolting toward the door, but then swerves and instead hides in a corner, hissing and emitting a threatening growl. You can hear a distinctive slapping sound, as the creature smacks its tail on the floor threateningly.

He also flails in surprise as the previously stationary tiny people erupt in sound and movement, trying to dodge out of all of their paths out of instinct before trying to grab at little Tareq's stickball stick to keep him from hitting the frightened hissing child.. to no avail. "Right that.. does nothing." He clears his throat, taking a calming breath and moving into the room some more, again trying to get a better look at the hissing tail-slapper, also watching the reaction of his own younger self curiously.

"Are you ok?" asks your younger self, collecting himself and helping Tamuel right himself while warily keeping an eye on the creatures hiding place.

"Yeah. What is it?" Tamuel asks.

A good question. At first you could have declared it a yhan'jinn, but even in the dim light, you're pretty sure saw a ridge of fur across its back...as you reposition yourself to better peer at it in the dim light, you also see the distinctive ko'jinn furry 'fin' on its tail. Its a ko'jinn, but a very, very small one...

"I think it's a ko'jinn." agrees your younger self.

Cautiously, Rissa re-enters the kitchen. "Should I... should I turn the light on?" she asks.

"Yeah." your younger self says. The room is bathed in a soft blueish-silver light as Rissa touches the activation rune on the kitchens primary lightstone, illuminating the little mushroom thief.

Now illuminated, you can see that its definitely a ko'jinn. A bedraggled, half grown little female, fully nude and so covered in mud and dirt its impossible to see what clan she might be. You can, however, see the outline of her ribs, as the sad little thing is half starved. You also notice an injury around her eye, half scabbed over and untreated, has turned sour, causing pus and fluid to run down its cheek like tears. Though she continues to hiss and growl and slap its tail, in the light she looks infinitely more pathetic than frightening. You are reminded of an incident a few years ago, where you and Drayne had discovered a rumpletail in the keekin shed. The thing had hissed and drooled, but was so pitiful the two of you just caught it in a sack and turned it loose before anyone could kill it.

Her filthy appearance is unusual to you, as based on what you know about ko'jinn, they are said to be pretty clean and fastidious creatures. But she looks downright feral.

"Hi." says your younger self, slowly approaching and speaking in a soothing voice. "It's ok, it's alright. We aren't going to hurt you."

"Be careful, Tareq!" hisses Rissa, watching nervously.

"Rissa, go get Big Kython." suggests Tamuel. "He'll know what to do!"

"Good job, little Tareq.. friend of the friendless before I even knew it.." He thinks back to the various ko'jinn clans he's learned of, trying to determine how many of them can be primarily white. "Poor Mush-room.. you look to be unwell.. how can you be this poorly fed, and alone.. this far from your people? Surely if you lived here.. my brother would have seen you fed.. Are you.. the same clan as the one.. who killed him, and the others? Did you flee them?" He asks his questions musingly, not expecting responses, but rather trying to parse together bits and pieces he is unfamiliar with, trying to make sense of them along with what he has learned since he memories begin.

The only clan that comes to mind are the ones Poya spoke of... the 'Bloody Sun' clan. Pale furred, the color of death; twisted by the pale wyrms light hundreds of years ago.

"Ok, but... be careful Tareq!" Rissa says, slipping on some oversized boots and a coat, before dashing out the door.

"Yeah, Tareq, be careful...she looks...uh, wild?" says Tamuel.

"She's just scared." your younger self says, holding the stick up for her to see before putting it on the counter.

"So am I!" says Tamuel. "She could hurt us a lot more than we could hurt her!"

"It's okay." your younger self says. "She thinks we're going to hurt her. We have to show her we won't." he looks around a moment, before picking up some of the food scattered about and offering it to her. In your mind, more memories start to flicker, as if reawakening.

He wracks his brain for any other possibility, saddening as he comes to the conclusion that she must've escaped or.. been abandoned..? By the terrible clan that massacred his home qirn. He tries to recall anything Poya has said about them while he watches little Tareq try to ply the ko'jinn with food.. his attention refocusing when his own memories seem to flicker awake once more, willing the process to fruition.

You rack your brain, but all you can recall is their savage cruelty, and their all white fur is a sign of the wyrms corruption...

It takes a bit of coaxing, but eventually, she reaches out and snatches the food from little Tareqs hand, cramming it in her face hungrily, watching him with suspicion as she chews.

"She looks rough..." says Tamuel. "Do you think she's the one whose been stealing food?"

"Yeah." little Tareq agrees. "I mean, look at her. She's starving."

She says something, speaking in some growling gibberish, but you can't understand it. Neither can the children.

"What-whats she saying?" asks Tamuel.

"I don't know." Tareq says, looking at her and offering more food. "I don't...I can't understand what you're saying?"

A memory tickles your mind, and as you peer closer at her, you remember, like a flash in your mind. The wound on her face, wasn't just a wound. It was a fresh brand. Someone had branded her Face.

He recoils at the sudden, powerful memory, pure horror over the very Idea of someone doing that to another living being, let alone a child overwhelming him. "What?? How could they Do that? No Wonder you left.. Krell, you're lucky to have made your way here- there."

The stand off continues for several minutes, before the door opens. "In here!" you hear Rissa exclaim as a hulking figure of a bhaan steps through the large doorway, his appearance causing the little creature to hiss loudly and make a wild, desperate scramble to another corner of the room.

"Careful, she's-she's scared." little Tareq says to the brutish Bhaan. He is powerfully muscled, nearly like Hreng. But otherwise...he looks much like you. His skin is of a similar tone, his horns larger, more mature versions of your own. He looks around at the mess with a sigh, but nods.

"Let's see what we have here...step back a few, little brother." he says, taking some of the bread from your younger self and stepping past him to get a better look at the little ko'jinns corner of fear. "Krell; you weren't kidding." he says, as he takes in the sight of the pitiful little creature. "Hey there, sweetheart. It's alright; it's alright." he says reassuringly, his voice a deep purring rumble.

He turns to watch the bigger bhaan's entrance and his concern for the small ko'jinn is suddenly overshadowed by the sudden crystal clear presence of his brother. An actual member of his shared bloodline.. huge like Hreng, but so, so gentle when needed.. and the pain of losing him without even knowing what was lost hits him hard. He retreats into an unoccupied corner, wiping away tears though there's no one to see them, watching the tableau and trying very hard to memorize every detail of a man he feels compelled to strive to be.. for both their sakes.

You watch as he gently and patiently coaxes the frightened little creature to take some of the bread. He squats down, to make himself look smaller, lifting a large hand up for her to see as she eats the bread, speaking softly and gently in Jhinn. Hesitantly, she reaches out, touching his hand, and you can visibly see her calm, her ears lifting curiously as she stops hissing and smacking her tail against the ground. Again she babbles some of her gibberish, but he seems equally baffled as your younger self.

"She's speaking some dialect I've not heard." he explains. "Some offshoot of Jhinn-khet I think, but I'm only picking up a few words. 'Fire', 'Him'...but she keeps talking about something called 'Basjunna Ajhaan'."

As he speaks that name, your heart catches in your chest. You don't know why, but the name alone terrifies you, makes your legs weak, makes you feel as frightened as the little ko'jinn was.

"Noooo.. what?? Is that.." he swallows, grasping at the counters and cupboards as he slithers to the ground, his mind returning to the third drawing crammed in the children's book, a giant, fire rimmed shape with burning eyes.. it's evil laughter filling a cavern, walls slick with blood.

"Basjunna Ajhaan. Basjunna Ajhaan. I- have to remember it.. she'll know.. Temma will.. be able to figure out what it means and how we can.. Krell, did it.. make them destroy us? Is it.. still up there?? Basjunna Ajhaan. Basjunna Ajhaan. ..why?? What does it want?? What IS it? Wait.. is it.. some.. massive U'trah-Qimahra? The.. the one they just killed.. wasn't that big, but.. it could have.."

"Rissa. Go find Magga, tell her that her services are needed. Tareq, have Drannen draw a warm bath. We need to get this little cleaned up so I can take care of that wound on her face; I don't like the looks of it." your brother says, still touching hands with the little ko'jinn. You see he has a tattoo on his massive forearm, a tribal style bit of inkwork. His body has more than a few scars, from what you can tell. It would seem your brother was no stranger to violence in his time.

"Yes Essur" says Rissa. "Ok. Tell her the orange mushrooms are the best though." your younger self says, the two of them running off to accomplish their tasks.

Brummasprinkles. Thats what the orange ones were called. You remember now, they were your favorite. They tasted like candy.

As your younger self goes, you hear your brother say one last thing. "You've had a hard time of it, haven't you, little one? Well don't worry; your safe now."

Around you, the room begins slowly turning to purple wisps of smoke; including your brother and the others. The memory seems to be...disinitigrating? But you notice one last thing; the little ko'jinns eyes. One is blue, the other pink.

He inspects the tattoo closely, wondering if he could replicate it later, hurrying around to the other side to get the full view of it, murmuring 'Basjunna Ajhaan' again and again as he does so, before switching to inspect the small ko'jinn's eye, trying to see what shape the brand they used might have taken, then watches his younger self run off to help, after recommending his favorite mushroom.

"Brummasprinkles.. of all the things to forget- wait, no! No nono!" He grabs at the nearby cupboard doors as the scene starts to.. shred? Opening the closest and looking under the tables for sign of another seam, perhaps hidden away like the one under the bed, before circling around to look into his brother's face one last time before it too is gone. "I'm.. so sorry brother.. I'm so sorry.."

It is a relatively simple, yet elegant (and badass) design, and you do your best to commit it to memory.

The little ko'jinn girls eyes are very peculiar, even for a ko'jinn. Most ko'jinn have yellow or green eyes, you've heard. You know this because Poya has deep blue eyes, and everyone always comments on how rare that is. But this little one is more unusual still; while both her eyes have the distinctive red in the sclera and around the pupil that ko'jinn have, the iris of one eye is an icy blue, the other a light pink. The brand is just below her pink eye, and looks like some sort of strange glyphs.

Your brother smiles, almost as if he can hear you. It is a sad, but kind smile. "Looks like you found a new friend, little brother." he says, before disintegrating into purple mist.

But as you watch, the scene begins to reform, this time in a oddly familiar room; you remember now, it was the common room. You, Rissa, and Tamual are sitting around chatting, when your brother comes back into the room carrying the little ko'jinn girl. She has been properly bathed, her wound treated, and dressed in a hynnish womens sleeping shirt, which for her is basically a dress. Her cheek is covered with a bandage, wrapped across her nose and round her head, making her look like she's wearing a mask thats halfway througj falling off. Now freshly cleaned, no longer caked in mud and filth, you can see her coat clearly. It is a rich cream color, not quite gold, not quite pure white. Her hair is similar, a light creamy blond, worn long, which some nice person has brushed and put into a few simple braids. Based on the skin around her eyes, even beneath her fur she is light colored.

"Alright then..." your brother says, walking into the room with the little ko'jinn girl resting on his hip, her tail flicking around randomly as she looks curiously around the room. "We got her cleaned up and some poultice put on that wound. Since none of us are getting back to sleep anytime soon; how about a story?"

The younger you and his friends cheer; you suddenly have the memory, your brother told the Best stories.

He watches sadly as the last of his brother disappears, tensing as he waits for the endless purple vastness to take him again.. but then it doesn't? He glances around in surprise as the mists reform into another room in the qirn, solid beneath him, or at least as solid as any of the rest have been.
Tareq turns carefully, taking in the new scene with his younger self and his little friends, so innocent and unaware of what would come. His brows lift as his brother enters the room again, surprised at the difference in the young ko'jinn in his arms after just a bath and a bandage. "Stories.. how.. can I know now how great his stories were.. when I cannot remember being told a single tale?" He shakes his head, settling in to listen to the story, try to get a better look at his brother's tattoo, and just absorb as much of this memory of him as he can.

Your brother's tattoo is an extremely elaborate pattern of geometric symbols and dots, which covers most of his forearm and hand up to the knuckles. Its quite beautiful; amazing really. It almost seems to tell a story of some kind?

Your brother looks at the little ko'jinn girl in his arms. "What do you say, little one? Would you like to hear a story?"

She looks at him curiously, not seeming to understand. "Store-ee." she chirps after a few moments.

"What are we going to call her, anyway?" asks Tamuel. "Have you figured out her name?"

"Not just yet." answers your brother. "But we need to call her something. She's our guest now."

"How about mushroom?" Rissa suggests.

"Yes!" says your younger self. "That's a great name! Because she loves mushrooms."

"Mushroom, eh?" says your brother. "What do you think?" he asks her. "Mushroom, do you like that? Mushroom?"

"Munch-room." she mimics after a few moments.

Tareq muses over what sort of embedded story might be inscribed within the patterns of the tattoo, the bracer shape feeling particularly protective, but.. probably representing his protection of others, from the look of him. He glances at Rissa at her banal name suggestion for the pint-sized, bandaged ko'jinnling, surprised to hear she is the source of the name, and then also his younger self's wholehearted enthusiasm. Tareq shakes his head, watching the easy way his brother holds her on his hip. "Look at you.. how many of us are.. even comfortable with younglings? We have so little chance to be around them.."

"Where did she come from, big brother?" the little you asks, looking up at her.

"The mountains to the north, little brother." says your big brother. "See her white coat? She is a Bloody Sun."

"Munch-room." the little ko'jinn chirps.

"Are you sure it's a wise idea to keep her here?" asks a man from the stone doorway, and you recognize his voice as the one from your dream. He is a hyn, stocky and swarthy skinned, with long hair and a impressive, drooping mustache. He has the frame and demeanor of a warrior.

"We have no choice, Brekk." your brother answers. "You heard what Magga said."

"What did Magga say?" your younger self chimes in.

"Munch-room." the little ko'jinn says again.

You see your brother cringe a little. "She said that her people had not treated her very well." your brother says after a moment. "That is why she will be staying with us for a while, till I sort something out."

He starts as the extra voice reappears, relaxing as he recognizes is vaguely as "from another memory-dream" and examines the Hyn man, trying to dredge up actual memories of him, beyond this. "And 'Magga'.. she.. was a witch? I think this.. Brekk said that.. didn't he? His voice anyway.." He shifts his attention to his brother, watching him respond carefully. "He hesitates, I wonder.. what she said. It cannot have been good.." he shifts his attention to the little fluff headed ko'jinn, "sorry little Mush-room."

Try as you might, you just can't conjure a memory of Brekk beyond a faint, blurry something gnawing at the corners of your mind. As for Magga...Pie? She made pies? She...said she saw spirits?

As you shift your attention to little 'Mush-room', you notice scars on her thin little arms. Burns. She looks like she's had a hard time of it in her short life.

"Kytoth..." says Brekk.

"Give me a moment, Brekk." says your brother, his tone conveying the message 'not in front of the children'. He gently sits down 'Mush-room', who clings to him fearfully. He whispers something to her and gently detaches himself, giving her the signal of 'just one moment' as she stands there wringing her little paw-hands. "Tareq, Rissa...Tam. Look after her ok? I need to talk to Brekk. We'll be in just the room. Be right back."

The kids nod obediently, as he strides off with Brekk, leaving the children staring at the ko'jinn curiously.

"I wonder what they are talking about?" asks Rissa.

"Me too." your younger self says. He heroically resists almost a full minute, before curiously edging over to the hallway...suddenly, everything in the room stops. Rissa, Tamuel, and your younger self freeze in place.

Almost everything, anyway...

"Munch-room." says the little ko'jinn girl, peering up at you. Not your younger self...YOU.

Tareq watches the scene play out, considering listening at the door himself, enough to chuckle as his younger self begins to do so, but freezes in surprise when everything halts. He takes half a step toward the door to investigate when the little ko'jinn girl addresses him and he jumps instinctively away, landing awkwardly in a protective stance, scanning the room for horrors before blinking down at her. "Wait.. you can.. see me? No.. one else here can.. uh, Mush-room. Hello?"

There are no horrors, no monsters...just the little ko'jinn girl with a branded face, peering up at you with mismatched eyes. "Munch-room. Stor-ee." she chirps.

"Yes, I'm.. uh, listening to the story too." He carefully sits down so he's not so much bigger than she is, marveling at how small and non-threatening she looks, and how her own kind could have hurt her so. He points at the bandage under her eye, then gestures to his own. "That looks.. like it hurts a lot. But it will get better. My- Kython is.. very kind. And Magga. Do.. you like them?"

"Mah-guh." she says, touching the bandage on her cheek. Then she reaches out curiously, touching your face with her little paw-hand, and touching your horns. She babbles something in her native tongue, looking at you questioningly, but you haven't a clue what she said. What you do notice tho, is when she touches you, her little hand does Not dissolve into purple dreamstuff.

He watches her closely, holding very still as her little hand touches his face, blinking at her curiously and nodding. "Magga.. helped you then." He listens closely to her words, but shrugs helplessly when he cannot make horns or tails of it. "I'm sorry, I don't understand.. Are you.. remembering this too?" He holds out a hand for her little paw, not trusting her realness, but not wanting to scare the qim out of her by grabbing her if.. she is conscious of this happening as well.

She stares at your hand a moment, then looks at you. She starts babbling something in her weird language, but its just gibberish to you. "Mah-gah." she adds, reaching out and touching your hand with her little paw-hand.

Your mind flashes with images of fire. Screaming. Blood.

A flash, and you see a hyn man in cage. He is dressed in dirty, tattered robes, and has been badly beaten. He is crying, begging you for something but you can't understand. You are surrounded by your fellow ko'jinn, each pure white or cream colored, an encampment of some sort. There are young ones around the cage, the same age as you. One of them, a young male, pokes the man with a pointed stick, laughing as he yelps in pain. You feel bad for the man; you want to help him. But you don't dare try. His fate has been decided; he has been claimed.

A flash and you find yourself in a clearing. You are small and afraid, standing with several other small young ko'jinn, including the stick poker from earlier. You see the terrified hyn man on an alter, stripped nude, bound and gagged. There is a muscular ko'jinn male, his coat white but smeared with bloody symbols, wearing a terrifying horned mask; he looks to be a priest of some sort. You hate him, but feel ashamed of yourself for doing so. But even moreso,you are terrified of him. In his hand is a hooked weapon that looks like a cross between a sickle and a knife. There are fires, a huge stone alter, and dozens more ko'jinn, all white or cream colored, all chanting, many also clad in strange symbols smeared upon their bodies. He plunges it into the terrified, struggling mans chest, using it to saw and cut until he claims his prize, the mans heart, blood pumping and dripping onto the stone.

Another flash and you feel yourself nudged, and begin walking toward the alter, as they toss the mans corpse callously onto the stone ground. The ko'jinn in a mask squeezes the heart, blood gushing down over you, oozing into your hair and down your neck and back. He hands you the heart, and after hesitating, you take a bite. It is juicy and bloody, and tastes good, but makes you feel queasy all the same, seeing the mans dead eyes staring up at you, watching you eat his heart. You then hand the heart to the kip behind you, and stand next to the masked priest, trembling as you see one of the ko'jinn remove a brand from one of the pits of fire. He begins approaching you, as you stand trembling in fear, your stomach in knots, your legs barely able to support you.

"Tareq!" you faintly hear your Temma's voice from the sky. You are not a ko'jinn. You're a bhaan!

"Tareq!" Beseta's voice says, louder this time.

You snap back to the common room with the the little ko'jinn girl in front of you, her little paw in your hand. Her sad little mismatched eyes watching you as she, and everything else, even the walls, begins to melt into wisps of purple smoke.

His eyes flare wide at the second call, nostrils flaring wide in fear, first from the vision and then from the shredding reality which includes the little ko'jinn. "Wait no, no I'm not.." He tries to pull the little ko'jinn into his arms as she begins to melt. "Come with me..!"

For a moment; just a moment...you think you have her. Then...nothing but wisps of purple smoke.

You find yourself floating again in the weird purple void. Five things are immediately apparent to you. You see three 'seams'...a blue one one down and to your right, a blue one 'up' and to the left, and a red one straight ahead a bit. You also see, up a ways, well beyond the seam, what looks like a swirling vortex of blue and red.

There is also the giant floating mass slowly swimming toward you, just like earlier.

He blinks around, expecting to be in a bed in the healing ward, and surprised to find himself still drifting in the purple void. As soon as he sees the giant mass moving toward him he paddles like mad forward a bit, before reorienting and heading toward the blue seam that is 'up' and to the left. "She called me.. maybe.. I can talk to her in one.."

Awkwardly, you start trying to maneuver your way toward the upward-leftward blue seam. You flail, making progress for a few moments until an errant movement causes you to again float upside down for a bit. Finally, however, you right yourself, and manage to make it to the blue seam. As you near it, you can hear the laughter of children, and as you peer inside, you can see Rissa, Tamuel, Little Tareq, and 'Mush-room' playing in what looks like snow...

Once he has verified that there's no bloodcurdling screaming (currently) issuing forth from the seam he'll grab the edges and pry it open, pulling himself through hastily, as before.

You crawl awkwardly through the dream-seam, landing with a thankfully painless *PLOP* onto the snow covered ground. You're in a courtyard, and you know it is the courtyard of your childhood Qirn. Snow has fallen, a good half foot. You see your younger self, Rissa, Tam, and Mushroom bundled up in warm clothing and playing happily, what looks to be some sort of hybrid between tag and a snowball fight. The little ko'jinn looks much improved, like she has finally had a full belly for a few weeks. She is "it", and is darting between the three of you, moving fast enough she could easily tag any one of you if she wanted, especially Tam with his disability, but she seems content to just kick up snow and dart between her targets in happy frenetic bursts as she eats barrages of snowballs. She does not seem to have noticed you, however.

He hops up, dusting himself off needlessly and scans the area quickly, trotting toward the little ko'jinn quickly, calling out to her and waving. "Mush-room! Mush-room! Can you see me?? Hello?"

She stops, her little ears perking up as she peers in your direction. Your excitement peaks, before immediately being replaced by disappointment as you realize she is not looking at you, but instead peering past you as your brother trots up, and she rushes to him, greeting him affectionately. "Munch-room!" she says. The other children, your younger self included, also run up eagerly. Your brother is dressed in winter clothes and half plate armor. He's limping a little and carrying a glaive over one shoulder. You remember now, he'd been gone for a few days; but you can't remember why. But you do know its 'Pilgrim's Day' somehow. A celebration of those who made the journey from the old world so many centuries ago. A day of gift-giving and appreciation for life and love. Looking back, every year on Pilgrim's day you always felt a little like something was missing, despite your Temma's famously fabulous Pilgrim's Weeks festivities.

You remember feeling sad when he was gone so much, wishing he'd spent more time with you. But you also sense, he was a very busy man with a lot of responsibilities to a lot of people. He fought for those who had no one else to fight for them.

"Hi Mushroom." he chuckles, tussling her hair affectionately, and each of you in turn.

"Big brother!" your younger self calls out.

"Hey little Brother." he says with a smile, giving your hair a tussle. "Been keeping Brekk in line?"

"Yes! Did you bring us anything?" your younger self asks, smoothly changing topics. Nailed it.

"I did." he says, reaching into his satchel. "The question is; do you deserve it?"

"Munch-room." chirps Mush-room.

"Fair enough." he laughs, opening his satchel and offering gifts. For Tam, a sheaf of printed booklets which excites him greatly. Adventure stories. You have a sense he was fond of them.

For Mush-room, a little leather necklace with a shiny black rock on it, which she eagerly takes and puts on, showing she knows what jewelry is at least, even if she seems to think 'munch-room' is a universal word. For little-you and Rissa; each of you got a knife, which both react to with awe and joy. To most, a simple exchange of Pilgrim's Day Gifts, but for you, each moment is an insight to a period of life taken from you with the best of intentions.

He slows to a stop, drooping as she dashes past him to his brother, brightening somewhat as he realizes it is Kython who appeared, but frowning at his limp and lack of combat companions. If Brekk stayed here to watch things while Kython was away.. how many others are actually here? Able bodied and able to fight? Magga surely would not be shouldering a glaive and holding the line..

"I thought I was.. finally figuring these things out.." He peers back the way Kython entered, seeking clues about where he has been and what he was fighting, gazing at his brother, clearly half a brigade by himself, and both longing for his presence and the chance to stand beside him. "Did they know? Did you.. warn anyone? Tell them you needed help?"

Its hard to gauge given that after a certain distance everything becomes fuzzy purple mist, but you have the sense he was outside the walls. Fighting some threat or another to the scattered pockets of people outside.

"I see you made it back in one piece. Again." says Brekk, approaching from the purple mist.

"What can I say? I'm a hard man to kill." answers Kython with a smile, his joke making your gut roll as you remember your bloody vision.

"I'd expect nothing less from you." says Brekk tiredly, the two embracing and sharing a kiss. "So...did you kill it?"

"Yes." says your brother. "The poor creature was mad with pain. I had no choice."

He watches Brekk enter and approach, nodding along with their conversation, trying to piece together whether Kython has been fighting the Bloody Sun yet, gasping at the sudden, powerful effect Kython's careless bragg has on him, physical and visceral in addition to the potent emotional loss.

He blinks at their embrace, suddenly glancing at the pack of kids and the whole scene shifts suddenly from 'adoptive caretaker' to 'family unit' and the pangs of loss intensify, refocusing on Brekk. "And.. I don't have any memories of you either.. how could I have forgotten This??" He sighs heavily. "..she didn't know. And.. she didn't mean for.. the good to be lost, along with the bad.."

"Were the little ones any trouble?" asks Kython, oblivious to your presence in this bittersweet memory.

"No, they behaved better than the adults." answers Brekk, glancing at Mush-room and lowering his voice. "Not many here are keen on housing one of her kind."

"One of her kind?" asks your brother.

"A Bloody Sun. Don't play dumb." Brekk answers in annoyance.

"Ah. And are you one of those people?" asks Kython.

"You know my feelings on the matter, you bobble." says Brekk. "But a lot of others don't like her being around. Including the Ur'Sehkk."

"Leave him to me." says Kython. "She ran away from them for a reason. You heard what Magga said. What they did to her. The Sun have gone mad if this is how they treat their children."

"Munch-room?" asks Mush-room, peering at the two of them.

Brekk ignores her, locked into debate with Kython. "I agree. And that makes them dangerous, Kython. People have gone missing. Traders. And the Ash-Mane and the Mud-Tails are losing territory. The Sun are getting more and more dangerous by the day."

Kython sighs. "I know. I know. And it's my job to fix all of it, right?"

"Mag-hah." Mush-room says. The other kids are quiet.

Brekk sighs as well. "No, Kython, but..."

"Can we talk about this later?" asks Kython. "Please?"

Brekk just gestures helplessly.

Tareq edges closer to them as their conversation continues, his concern level rising as it does so, commenting half to himself, half to the air, just to feel like he is contributing, rather than eavesdropping awkwardly on his own memories. "I Completely agree.. and I can.. only imagine how much worse it is now.. all these years later, left.. unchecked."

"Look..." says Kython. "I talked to Captain Busk. He and his men are ready. If the Sun try anything...Anything...we won't be alone."

"Alright." nods Brekk. "I trust you."

"I hope so, after all these years." chuckles Kython.

"I coulda chose more wisely." says Brekk. "Freezing my bobbles off with a horn-head in the middle of nowhere." he chuckles.

"Yes well..." Kython laughs. "I am not responsible for your bad decisions! Come on little ones, lets see what Brilla and the girls have cooked up for us." he says, ushering the children to accompany him, which they eagerly do, except mush-room who pauses a few moments, apparently trying to figure out whats going on. Little Tareq gestures to her to follow him, and she scampers after him.

He watches Kython usher their little flock off toward dinner with a mixture of pride and sadness, finding himself significantly less confident in this.. Captain Busk's readiness, whether intentionally so or not. Clearly either he vastly mistook the force that would move against the qirn, or he stood aside and let it happen. Neither speaks well for a captain of the qirnsguard.

"At least you seem happy.. here, before.. it happens. That is not nothing.." He grins sadly at Mush-room's clear newness still, not even knowing quite that 'dinner time' is a regular occurrence here.

"Tareq!" you suddenly hear Beseta's voice, faint and distant, as if from the sky. "Tareq, can you hear me?"

He half jumps, turning around in a circle before belatedly looking up at the sky. Only to stop and rub his nose bridge at his own ridiculousness. "Seriously? She's not IN the sky.. Krell."

He reconsiders though, as he realizes he has no idea how he's Supposed to be entering and exiting these scenes. "..last time it Was her voice that.. broke it?" He begins trotting off after the kids, then past them, looking for a likely place that another seam might be hidden, perhaps behind a door or under a rug?

You fumble around, searching, but the scene is already beginning to melt into purple smoke...purple, fruity flavored smoke...

"Tareq! Please...Please..." you hear your Beseta's tearful voice faintly. "I love you, come back...wake up..."

The scene changes again, congealing into the common room as your temma's voice falls silent. The children are gathered around, eating stew from clay bowls with wooden spoons, occasionally dunking chunks of bread into the juice. Kython is stretched out on the couch, Brekk snuggled against him. He is recounting stories of U'trah-Qimahra, freeing the ones he could and slaying those which he could not free. But he isn't just telling his stories; as hew recites them, a reddish purple mist forms into figures and scenery, which play out the tales as he recites them. You've seen this sort of 'storytelling' magic before on occasion but that doesn't make it any less remarkable to witness. You rememember now; he did this a lot for you guys. Telling stories, as the misty images danced and fought in sync with his words.

He spins in surprise as the last thing in his hand shreds into purple mist, rejoining the rest as the scene reforms, trying to get a directional orientation on where Beseta's voice is coming From, to better aid his search, but when her voice drops out again he has only eyes for Kython and his mystical storytelling. Much like his child self he gives them his rapt attention, walking close and inspecting the images of the creatures, adding them to his mental list of the kinds of forms they can take and paying particular attention to how Kython managed to free those he managed to. "This is.. incredible.. so much better than just Words! Think how much more we could Share if more could do this!" He is struck again by the easy contentment his brother seems to have found and his many wonderous gifts, missing him deeply and furthering his resolve to get himself a matching tattoo, as best he can manage.

The children are equaling transfixed, especially mush-room, who repeatedly and without success tries to touch / grab / swipe at the images (which just reform instantly). You see your younger self trying to explain to her what's happening, but each such explanation lasts only as long as the next image. Either she doesn't understand, or shes simply unable to resist trying to kill the floating wisps. Finally, Kython starts describing a floating ball that buzzes around her in each of his stories, just to give her a target.

He chuckles, both at his younger self's attempts and Mush-room's persistence. "I cannot blame you little one.. they are most wonderful."

He tries to get a sense from the stories of how recent these encounters are and whether they seem to be increasing in severity in recent.. months? Years?

The stories do seem to indicate a rise in activity over the last few decades, though you aren't sure of any historical significance of this information. You do note however that he seems to backpeddle somewhat regarding the increasing monster frequency when he realizes he's worrying the children, assuring them that he will keep them safe.

"Tell us again how big was the monster you just killed was, Kython?" asks Rissa.

"Bigger than I'd have liked." he answers with a smile. "But it's getting late. I think it's time for you rascals to get some sleep." The kids groan unhappily, except for Mush-room who redoubles her attacks on the wispy cloud and looks both confused and pleased with herself when Kython ends the spell. "Munch-room." she chirps.

"Why does she keep doing that?" Tam asks.

"The short answer is she's a ko'jinn." Kython answers. "All the beast-folk have their quirks."

"Oh." Tam nods.

"That doesn't make them any lesser, though." Kython adds. "They just think about things a little differently than hyn do, that's all."

Brekk gives him a 'look', but Kython shakes his head, as if to say 'not now'.

"..big enough that you limped your way home.. and are lucky to retain all your limbs.. based on the one they just drug into qirn Hoseth. And that was a caravan with a Vheir-Rasah and a squad of bluecoats sent for backup. You are just.. battling them on you own.. aren't you?" He shakes his head, smiling a bit at the 'they have quirks, but are not less' in addition to the exchange of 'looks' which follows.

"How do you know so much about them, Kython?" asks Tam.

"I have spent many years among them." he explains. "You must remember, I am one-hundred and twelve summers old."

"Old man." chuckles Brekk.

"Which ones?" asks little you. "Clans I mean?"

"Well, before the war, I spent a decade or so on the plains, trying to help mediate between the Fury and the Storm clans. Lost cause. Their qims Hate each other." he sighs. "Then I spent time with the Mossy Tail, what some call 'Mud-Tails'. They live in the peeper bogs, and are how the place got its name. Travelers would see their eyes peering out from the darkness."

"Wow." says Rissa. "You are brave! They sound scary."

Kython chuckles, shaking his head. "They are shy, wary folk. But I've never known them to be needlessly violent."

"Any others?" asks Tam.

Kython pauses. "I worked with the Ash-Mane for a time. I wish I could have done more for them. I wish I could do more Now for them."

"What happened to them?" asks Rissa.

Brekk and Kython pause for a moment, uncomfortable.

"It's time for bed. No more questions, little ones." says Brekk. "Kython tires of your pesty questions!" he says with mock sternness, swinging his legs off the couch. Memories of the man tickle at your mind, slowly returning. As a child, you found him stern and aloof, and were a little afraid of him. He could be brusque at times. Perhaps you were a little jealous sometimes of the attention your brother gave him. But now...perhaps he was just doing his best.

He listens intently as Kython lists off his experience with various Ko'jinn clans, searching his own current memory for information on those same clans, particularly, the Ash Manes.

You knew brushing up on some of Beseta's books over the past month would pay off!

The 'Furies' he refers too are certain to be the 'Laughing Fury' clan; a clan of berserkers who live upon the great plains, in the shadow of the massive mountain range to the west, the gateway to the 'old world'. They are known to be particularly unhinged and unpredictable, even for ko'jinn. Their qim is said to be some sort of monstrous dyr'quj.

The 'Storm' he speaks of, you're pretty sure are the Whispering Storm, another plains clan known for their devotion to the great herds of wild wyr'jakks and sleek blue-gray coats. They are even said to worship a wyr'jakk qim of some sort. They are also known for their mysticism and are considered relatively friendly, as ko'jinn clans go. So long as their sacred herds are left unharmed, that is. You've heard horror stories about the fates of those who break this sacred law. They exist in a perpetual state of war with the Laughing Fury, and the two clans hatred of each other is well known to anyone who studies the ko'jinn.

The 'Mossy Tail' clan are a shy, retiring clan who live among the great peeper bogs, in the shadow of the Gorepeaks. They are a mysterious clan, and little is known about them save they have a habit of following those passing through the bogs, though you have heard stories of them emerging from the mists to rescue lost travelers before vanishing once again. It is they, according to Poya, who gave her and you shelter and safety after the fall of Qirn-Bynehk. You've heard they often have green and dark brown coats, which help them blend into their beloved bogs.

The Ash Mane are a clan who live to the east, within the mountains of the Iron Teeth, giving rise to their full name of 'Those with Ashen Mane and Iron Teeth'. They are known for their black and ashen colored coats, their fearsome warriors, and their skill at metalcraft which they treat as a sacred art. Most sources you've read credit them the innovators behind the legendary 'ko'jinn iron and the much feared 'skull-splitter' axe design. Their qim is said to be a monstrous feathered serpent of fire and war. They bore the brunt of the impact of the third war, and lost many during the nightmarish event called the 'edict of storms'. Their hunting grounds devastated, their numbers shattered, they are believed to be a dying clan.

The edict was said to have been a majikstorm of unfathomable power, conjured by the vheturians supposed 'god-empress'. Many believe it to be the final event that broke the world; a brutal capstone to a devastating war, its raw magical energy causing the great green giant to erupt and cause so much misery and magical instability across the known world. The suffering inflicted by the edict was said to be beyond the count of grief; its scale beyond imagining, hundreds of miles of populated land reduced to a wasteland of poisoned swamps, twisted monstrosities, and shattered earth. Entire city-states and beast folk clans were snuffed out in its wake. Those who were not killed by the storm itself were said to have died shortly thereafter in horrific fashion, or became horrible abominations. The stories you have heard are that it would have been even worse, save for some unknown warrior who delivered a fatal blow to the empress, ending her spell. Some claim it was a ko'jinn with a magical axe or spear; others claim a hyn with a magic bullet. Nobody knows for sure. All that is known for sure is that it literally sundered the earth, cracking open a passage to the northern sea, for those brave and foolhardy enough to brave it.

Tareq muses over his recently researched information, wondering what more his brother could add to it.. clearly he had direct, face-to-face interactions with the remaining Ash Mane. Did he help to relocate them? Attempt to fortify them against their foes? Surely.. little could be done if their numbers dropped too low, a danger we also face.

He shifts his attention between Kytoth and Brekk's expressions at the end, trying to read more layers that are obviously there.

Kythons expression hints at some sort of buried pain, grief...he must have saw something terrible. Brekks expression hints as sternness borne of worry, as though he is concerned on your brothers behalf.

"Did the Vheturians really break the world?" asks Rissa.

"One of them tried, sweetheart. But we stopped her." answers your brother, but you clearly see pain in his eyes. Did he fight in the third war? What horrors did he see that would cause such a strong man such pain?

"..if he did then.. our parents Definitely did. Is that.. where we lost them? Temma just.. says they were diplomats, who- where Else would they have gone, but into the heart of everything? Wait how.. who would allow a fertile female into such danger? But then.. how could anyone have known such.. devastation was possible? Until it was too late?"

He gazes at Kytoth sadly. "I see you brother. I.. know your heart. To continue their work, as they would have done, had they more summers to do so.. even if there's no one else to aid you."

"Why did the Vheturians try to hurt us? Why are they so bad?" asks Rissa. You see Tam cringe a little bit at her question. He looks sad, and a little ashamed. Wait a minute...

"Not all of them are bad." says Kython gently. "No more than the rest of us. They just had a very bad person making them do bad things. And war brings out the worst in all of us."

"The empress? Is she still alive?" she presses.

He grimaces a little but turns it into a smile. "They say she's dead. I would like to believe that." he says.

"They killed my papa. I hate the Vheturians. All of them." she says with a frown.

"Would you even know one if you saw one?" he asks with a smile.

She appears to ponder a moment.

"Let me ask you this. Do you hate Tam?" Kython asks.

"What? No!" she says with a start, looking at him in surprise.

"A lot of Vheturians have crossed the lament, both before and after the war." Kython explains. "Refugees. Like Tams father, for example."

She stares at Tam in surprise.

"..they say she is dead. I would very much like to believe that too.." he refocuses his attention on Tamuel, nodding slowly at the 'Vheturian ridge' that Beseta so objects to the concept of. "At least it seems to hold true for you. Yet.. you too are in my brother's care.. though your father fled the war, it seems he.. got you to a safety he would not enjoy. At least.. as long as it lasted.." He frowns again, searching the empty halls of his memories for any indication that he, Rissa or Mush-room may have also made it out of qirn Bhynehk.

"To ask a different question..." presses Kython. "There are many here who dislike mushroom being here, because of her heritage as a Bloody Sun. They would cast her out."

"Munch-room." Mush-room says.

"What? No!" says Rissa. "That isn't fair!"

"But mushroom is a Bloody Sun. Her clan has hurt many people." says Kython.

"Munch-room." says Mush-room again, looking between them.

"But she's my friend! It isn't her fault what her-oh." says Rissa as it dawns on her. Brekk is looking Kython as well, his face a mixture of doubt but love. As though he doubts the truth of his friends words, but admires them nonetheless.

Little-you is watching quietly. Intently. You remember this night now. You remember the impact it made on you. How your brother lived through...no, fought in...the war that broke the world, and somehow didn't hold any hard feelings. A rare man indeed. Did it kill him, in the end?

He watches the exchange carefully, the kind instruction, the simple yet powerful message.. the certain danger Mush-room's kin still represent. "A hard thing.. to cultivate caring.. in a heart that has seen such horror. I can only hope to.. manage a fraction of that. Did.. they trick you, in the end? Prey upon your kindness? Did Captain.. Busk? Stand aside, believing you had weakened the qirn? Turn against it? ..turn us out of it?" He shakes his head. "Still so many questions.. and what of the monster? Basjunna Ajhaan?"

"Now then. Enough questions. It's time for bed." Kython says, ushering the children off. As he does so, the room...begins to collapse again, splintering into strands of purple smoke dust. As it does so, you see two seams appear on the ground in front of you...one blue, one red. They look unstable, however, and you get the sense you don't have much time before you get dumped into the purple void of floatyness again, or someplace even worse.

He squawks with concern as the world begins to shred once more, dropping to his knees and grabbing at both seams, trying to pull one edge of each open further toward him to see and hear what lies inside them both as quickly as possible.

Peering inside the blue seam, you see little-you, Rissa and Tam gathered around Mush-room. She is sitting on the ground, looking at her hand, which is bleeding, injured somehow. Rissa has a small knife, and looks to be about to make a cut on her own finger. "Are you sure this is how your people do it, Rissa?" asks Tam. "Yes Tam, quit whining." she answers.

Peering inside the red seam, you see two older boys, each a little younger than you are now, but much larger than you and your friends were at the time. One of them has Tam by the backbrace, jostling him violently, laughing. He is crying and pleading for them to stop. The other boy has little-you in a headlock, laughing off your younger selfs attempts to free himself. You see Rissa picking up a stick.

"Tareq? Please...please wake up..." you suddenly hear Temma's voice from above once more, calling for you from the ethereal purple nothingness the scene is rapidly becoming. You see what appears to be another vortex, as you saw earlier, forming in the still developing purple void.

He stares into both seams by turns, surprised to see blood in the blue seam, his expression darkening dramatically when he sees Tam being shaken inside the red. He wilts a bit noticing his own predicament, concern taking over as Rissa appears to prepare to take on all comers and he swallows before pulling himself into the red seam. "I'm sorry Temma.. I will just.. soon."

You land with a painless *thwump* as you crawl through the hole, which seals behind you, just in time to see the older boy chuck poor Tam aside like a sack of fruit, the boy crashing into the snowy ground painfully.

Rissa goes on the attack with her stick, but is no match for the older boy, who wrenches her stick away and twists her arm painfully behind her back. He is big for his age, strong looking, with swarthy skin and a shorn head. But you sense something is off; his appearance tickles as your memory, but his name eludes you...his appearance...

"Got ourselves a little Vhette-lover, Crayd." he laughs, wrenching Rissa's arm. She screams, crying for him to stop.

'Crayd', the boy who has your younger self in a headlock, laughs, before frowning a little as she starts crying. He is a stocky lad, looks sort of like a pudgier, shorter version of Drayne."Hey, Dek, maybe you..."

"Shut up, Crayd." says 'Dek', wrenching Rissa's arm harder, prompting a fresh scream of pain from her. "Little krant came at me with a stick. She's getting what she deserves."

"Stop it! You're hurting me!" she wails.

"You want to come at me with a stick, you little krant?" he sneers.

"'Vhette-lover'.. original." He shakes his head, steeling himself to observe this less than pleasant memory, to sift through it for information to help him make sense of his present, but Rissa's screams tear through him and he charges over to Dek, trying to free her from his grip.

As you charge over, the lad 'Dek' freezes, time almost standing still as he begins staring at you with a dumb look on his face.

Suddenly, a terrible feeling rises in your gut, as the memory of this day begins returning to you...then everything goes to hel.

Dek releases Rissa, his eyes going wide as he tries to raise his arms in front of him, as a white blob sails past you crashing into him with a terrible shriek. Then Dek starts shrieking, blood spattering into the snow as he wrestles with the little hissing, snarling white blob that's tackled him. Mush-room is much smaller than he is, but she has something he doesn't; claws and fangs. Dek tries to push her off but she glomps down on his hand, his shrieking reaching a pitch.

"Get off him!" Crayd yells, releasing little-you and trying to grab her and pull her off. She shrieks the second he touches her, spinning and squirming, slashing and tearing as he goes from trying to pull her off to desperately trying to protect himself. She lashes out with one of her feet, kicking him right in the groin, the impact knocking his legs out from under him and sending him crashing to the snow.

"Mushroom, stop! Please!" you hear little you yelling, as she begins savagely kicking him in the head again and again with her clawed feet. Behind you, you hear the shouts of men.

"Its that ko'jinn!" you hear one yell, followed by what you recognize as a rifle shot, causing mush-room to relent her assault and drop low, panicked.

"Stop shooting, you'll hit the children!" you hear another man admonish.

"Run!" yells Rissa from the ground, cradling her arm, tears rolling down her face. "Mushroom, run!"

"Go! They'll kill you!" sniffs little-you, waving at her.

She hesitates a moment, before taking off, bolting through the snowy ground of the courtyard. Rissa is sobbing and cradling her arm, while Tam just sits there on the ground, sobbing and crying, too scared to articulate anything. Little-you is crying as well, but trying to comfort his friends. Dek is curled in a ball of pain, while Crayd just lays there, trembling and trying to protect his head. Blood is spattered all around in the snow.

This was a bad day. This was a very bad day.

Tareq takes confidence from Dek's apparent response to his approach, only to dodge out of the way in surprise as Mushroom torpedos into him instead. He watches in horrified amazement as she tears him a new one despite her small size, suddenly Brekk's concerns over Kython's benevolence coming into clear focus. If she can cause such damage this easily at her tiny child-size, just imagine an angsty teen ko'jinn, or an adult.. like Poya. Just thinking it makes his stomach turn again, that deep fear with no basis that he has- Had- any memory of.

"Get my son to the medical quarters!" booms a deep voice. Several blue coats come running over to tend to the children, but your focus is drawn to a huge, shadowy figure. Something about him terrifies you...down to the bone. His voice is deep and booming, educated and commanding and yet somehow also a guttural growl. He is nearly as large as Kython, at least in terms of mass, though he appears to be Hyn. He wears the blue of the bluecoats, and the sad sash and armor of a high ranking officer. His face is concealed behind a thick metal gorget and kettle sallet helm, like bluecoats wear, but his eyes...they...glow. Like embers. His armored barrel chest boasts an array of medals, and you count no less than 4 large pistols hanging off his war belt. He looks utterly daemonic, whether this was his true appearance or simply how you perceived him as a child.

"The rest of you; find that vicious little beast!" he roars. "KILL IT! I want its HEAD!"

And then you wake up.

You awaken in a large clearing. Beneath you, a cluster of soft purple and green grass. Large crooked trees with veins of blue, red, green, and purple surround the clearing. Strange colorful insects flutter about. It appears to be 'night' but the sky is a strange, beautiful, alien purple color.

Sitting a few feet from your head, patiently watching you is the little qimling. It gives an inquisitive chirp as you become aware of it.

"NO.. no no, I can't be- wait.." He starts to scramble to his feet but freezes as he recognizes the qimling, staring at it for a long moment before scanning their mysterious purpled surroundings and returning his attention to it. "Ah.. hello little love, I.. hope I didn't startle you.."

It chirps at you curiously, sitting on its haunches as it watches you, its second pair of legs keeping it balanced while is holds a large green and purple insect in its upper most paws, which it appears to be snacking on. It doesnt appear to be glowing quite as brightly as it was back at the qirn.

You are in a large, primeval purple forest. There is a strange, alien serenity to this place; a sense that the laws of your world may not necessarily apply here. Weird alien plants and insects are everywhere. Lots of things have an eerie bioluminescent glow to them. In the distance, you hear a rumbling, and see angry red storm clouds in the distance. There is a large footpath, leading deeper into the forest, lined by weird brightly colored mushrooms in places. However, you see what could be several different routes through the forest that deviate dramatically away from the footpath.

He chuckles lightly at his qimling friend, sitting up carefully so as not to disturb it, touching the grasses and taking in the strangely soothing sensation of the place as he gets his bearings. The rumbling of the angry red storm draw his fearful attention and his brows furrow as he rises to his feet. "This is.. your home? Where you are from?" He blinks down at the little qimling curiously.

"I have dreamt many forests but.. none were inviting, and all.. harbored horrors and doom. I hope this one proves different. Though.. I do not like the look of that storm." He pauses, frowning at it for a time. "Strange that.. it is red.. when Vyr-Sotep leaks green into our sky.."

He watches the flutter of insects, comparing them to those he knows and moves toward the wide footpath, approaching the first group of brightly colored mushrooms curiously before resting a hand on a colorful veined tree.

The insects and plants here look sort of like the ones you know, but have a strange ethereal 'otherness' to them...in addition, you notice that as the little qimling nobbles away at its snack, the bug emits a strange blue whispyness with each bite the qimling takes. As if its not composed of flesh and chiten, but is made up of some sort of purplish mist that takes solid form until consumed.

The mushrooms are purple with blue and green star-like glowing 'veins' on their caps, coupled with patches of dark blue spots.

The tree certainly Feels real...and yet it looks nothing like any tree you've seen, with wild craggy limbs covered with blue glowing moss. Admittedly, you haven't seen many growing up in the qirn, at least not that you easily remember, anyway. But still...

Tareq squeezes the section of tree trunk curiously in his hand, musing before kneeling and touching several different sorts of plants. He finally plucks an innocuous looking blade of grass and sniffs it curiously, stroking its length before nibbling on it testingly.

The trunk feels solid in your grasp, through slightly...spongy, perhaps? The plants all feel quite real as well. The blade of grass is Bitter! And it seems to at least partially evaporate into wispy purple energy when you try to chew it as well, much like the little qimlings bug.

Tareq muses over the wisp-substance similarity between this place and his 'deep dream' as temma calls it. Turning to scan the marvelous purple sky he wonders.. what this is? Is this how.. the normal dream works? It just.. is? No terrible memories or ominous events?

He turns back to the little qim-smijj curiously. "It's so beautiful here, little love.. Where shall we go? Do.. you have friends here? Or.." He turns back, glancing at the ominous red storm, "is that.. why you fled?"

The 'wispiness' is remarkably similar to that of your deep dream!

It looks at you, chirping a few times, before taking off up the path. About halfway into the woods, it stops, coiling back to look at you with a few impatient chirps. It seems like it wants you to follow it?

He freezes as the qim-ling takes off, relaxing as it turns back to check on him and he chuckles. "An excellent choice, little love!" He trots along after it, eager to see more of this place and whatever the little qim wishes to show him.

The little qimling takes off again, deeper into the forest, occasionally stopping to make sure you're still following, or attempt to murder some sort of dream-bug. Occasionally, it will stop, curl up into a ball, and seemingly go to sleep briefly, only to pop awake abruptly and take off again. It's actually pretty easily distracted. Nonetheless, it continues to lead you further and further down the path...

After a bit of this, the length of which is hard to say, since your sense of time feels distorted here, you hear laughter and voices up ahead around a bend in the path around a small hill. They seem to be discussing in an ominous yet remarkably vague tone.

A male hyns voice, rich and cultured, yet with a manic edge to it and a tendency to alter volume rapidly mid sentence. "WELL! I MYSeLf, fInD SER-tain RECENT EVENTS! QUITE dIsCONcertiNg!"

A womans voice, calm, cultured, and haughty. "They Do weigh upon the mind."

Another female voice, growling, beast-ish, and small. "Do not like, do not hike, run up tree, hide from me."

Another male voice, growling and incredibly deep. Ominous, yet oddly seductive. "At least I'll still be in good business."

Tareq greatly enjoys their jaunt through the woods, watching the qimling's antics, paying attention to it's movements and preferences, particularly in regards to how it chooses to interact with this place.

His comfort level plummets at the sound of voices however and he freezes, then darts behind a tree. "..what am I- this is ridiculous.." He casts his eyes to the magical purple sky beyond the branches, shaking his head at himself and instead focusing on the voices, curious, but.. unsettled by the last one in particular.

The little qimling darts toward the voices, disappearing around the bend.

"YeS YES! LUCK will ALWAYS be in dem-AND!" says the manic voice.

"Mmm yes." agrees the cultured woman. "But I wonder-oh! There he is! Our little friend returns...but where is our guest?"

"Hide behind tree, maybe flee." growls the beast-woman.

"Heh. Mortals." says the deep, ominous voice. "Come out, little hornling! We know you're there. I can smell you on the aether."

"Little love, no! Wait-" he reaches out to try to stop it and half steps out from behind the tree, shooting a worried look toward the voices, heaving a heavy sigh.

He mutters to himself, a brief but stern pep-talk under his breath before taking a deep breath and stepping out from behind his tree and hesitantly following the path his qimling took, curving around the small hill and greeting the source of the voices, once he can see them, with a hesitant wave. "Ah.. sorry.. H-hello?"

As you round the bend you see a large table sitting in the clearing, surrounded by strange plants and mushrooms. The little qimling is sitting on the table, nibbling a treat, surrounded by a fancy, ornate, but much chipped tea set. There is a strange contraption which looks to be a combination of a massive abacus and at least a dozen hourglasses of varying sizes.

Around are also four odd characters...

"thERE hE iS!" says the strange manic man. He appears as a pale-skinned, vaguely Hyn man, sitting on a stool, wearing a tattered, much patched reddish suit with long tails and an enormously broad brimmed floppy hat. Next to him is a tattered yet dapper parasol. It is ridiculously oversized, with the longest, rear part more or less covering his back. His large eyes are an eerie black, shining like polished stones, his mouth a rictus grin of long, sharp, needle-like teeth. He has long, creepy six-fingered hands, and looks tall and bony. "oUr GUEST!"

Next to him is a humanoid female creature. She is covered in...some kind of a spiny blue chitin which oddly resembles a fancy womans dress. She has at least eight eyes, each of which glimmer an eerie blueish silver. Around her neck is a choker, held in place by a glowing blue stone. You notice she has a second pair of arms and a second pair of legs. Her top-most arms hold a saucer of tea, while her secondary pair are knitting something from a strange silvery thread. "Fashionably late, I believe?" she asks, looking at the strange contraption.

The third figure crouches upon their stool, hunkered down like an animal. It is a female, naked, but covered in purple and red fur and feathers. She is the smallest of the four, perhaps about the size of a yhan'jin or a minj. A pair of pronged antlers sprouts from her temples, and you count as least three long tails whipping around behind her. She cocks her head, looking at you curiously. "Late, late for fate." she snorts. You notice instead of feet, she has...hooves.

The fourth figure is massive and terrifying. An enormous, indigo-purple creature which vaguely resembles a hyn, but would be at least ten feet or more if standing. A single pair of ebony horns sprouts from his temples, and he sports both a mane and beard of thick black hair. A purple gem is sticking out of the center of his forehead. He has a large gut, but his body and four powerful arms ripple with muscle. Four eyes peer at you with amused interest. You see two pairs of tusks, one top, one bottom. He wears only a baggy pair of pants, but his body is covered in intricate tattoos and fancy jewelry. Around his neck is a necklace of...skulls. Mostly hyn, but a few others perhaps. Next him rests a massive club and an equally massive sword. In his top-most pair of arms he holds a plate of tea, which is ridiculously undersized in proportion to his massive frame. "At least he is here." he says with a laugh. "Finally."

All four of the...entities...have the same ethereal 'otherness' as everything else here. As if they are not truly real, and yet, here they are; claws and horns and teeth. Those look Very real.

He takes in the maelstrom of confusing contradictions and folk who.. cannot be, wide eyed and stock still. So many arms and legs and eyes. The spinning, sliding contraption made largely of.. sand counters? Is that.. how they think I'm late? Do they.. live here? There is a table. He swallows thickly, clearing his throat twice before he is able to speak, his gaze finally settling on the qimling, the most reassuringly 'real' item in this clearing, aside from the ornate, chipped tea set.

"Ah.. l-late for.. fate? What- how can.. I be late if.. I.. have no idea what is.. What is.. ah.. I am Tareq'dun. Tehk'aht sing your steps."

The little qimling chirps a few times at you, then scuttles over to the...beast-woman, scurrying up her arm and onto her shoulders like a beloved pet as she trills at it.

"WeLCoME TaREq'DUn! hAVe a SeAT aND a NiCE CUP of TeA!" says the strange hat man, gesturing toward a chair.

"Are all mortals so odd-looking?" muses the chitinous woman.

"No! SoME aRE qUitE PlAIn!" answers the strange hat man.

"Nor so polite." rumbles the ominous giant. "I wonder if this one gambles."

Tareq eyes them all curiously, watching as the qimling climbs the furred and feathered woman with her three tails like an old friend and moves slowly toward a chair with a nod toward hat-man, pulling the nearest chair out a bit and examining it for a long moment before sitting on it gingerly, careful of his tail. He smiles uncertainly as he does so, blinking toward the four-armed, four-legged woman in a chitinous.. dress? And glancing down at himself before scanning the others as they all chime in on how 'odd-looking' he is. "Ah.. nooo? I mean.. we.. take many forms. Though.. most are.. too far from the dream to reach it. This.. IS the dream, is it not?"

He glances around the unusual table, wondering if this is actually just the result of whatever was in Drayne's flask or if he should be asking Temma about it when he awakens. "And.. ah, what may I call you?"

"I ThOughT pErHAps iT wAs mY DrEAm!?" muses the strange hat man. "oR Is IT yOUrs?? PeRHAps PErHaPS!"

"An exchange of questions. Yes. I am Xanoxaphixia." answers the chitinous woman. "The web-minder."

"I aM Fargjaxyl! ThE TeA BaROn!" announces the strange hat man. "ShE iS J'ax'uch'uk! HeRDeR of MuSHroOmS!!" he declares, pointing at the beast woman.

"And I am Ejirwakk...the luck broker." rumbles the ominous giant.

He listens attentively as they introduce themselves, and each other, nodding toward each and the beast-woman as she is named as well. "I greet you all, Xanoxaphixia web-minder, Tea Baron Fargjaxyl, J'ax'uch'uk herder of mushrooms and Ejirwakk luck broker. I am.. fairly certain this is not My dream. I am.. told mine is a 'deep dream' and.." he pauses, scanning the strange assembly at this out of place table in a pulsing, purple forest. "-there are.. too many things here to be mine. Mine is.. empty purple nothingness.. with cracks through which.. my.. lost memories reside."

"WElL tHaT sOUNds DrEadFUl!" remarks the tea baron. "tEa???" he offers, gesturing at the tea pot in the center of the table.

He grins lightly at the Tea Baron's response, nodding. "It is, yes.. and, thank you. Tea sounds.. wonderful. What kind is it?"

"A sPeCiAL BlENd!" he declares.

"Quite flavorful." says the luck broker with his deep rumble.

"The sage should be along shortly." says the web-minder.

The herder of mushrooms says nothing, beyond sitting on her chair watching you, and occasionally exchanging trills and chirps with the qimling.

"Well then, I look forward to it." Tareq hopes it does not in any way remind him of whatever was in Drayne's last flask, for the sake of his dignity and perhaps his continued existance, nodding and glancing between the Tea Baron and the luck broker, trying not to be intimidated by the sheer size and clear might of the latter, considering he dwarfs even Fourteen by a considerable margin. He then scans the table, checking to see if there is a tea cup and saucer at his place at the table and whether it seems like he should pour his own tea or not.

"The sage? I look forward to.. meeting them as well. I must not be.. too late then?" He glances at the herder of mushrooms and the qimling she seems to be conversing with periodically, smiling uncertainly around the group between glances at the table and the forest beyond, is tail swishing oddly, braced at a slight crook by the back of the chair. He suddenly glances up, concerned. "I'm.. not in their seat, am I?"

"Not to fear. He brings his own seat." explains the luck broker.

In front of you, you discover a cup of tea and a saucer, steaming as if freshly poured, though you were certain there wasn't any just moments before. There is also some sugar, honey, and several other unrecognizable substances available for you to add.

One of them looks alarmingly like blood, though.

"I.. see. Ah, I didn't even notice you.." he glances between the Tea Baron and the steaming cup of tea before him curiously. "My thanks to you." He lifts the cup of tea, sniffing it curiously and gesturing toward the array of bowls and dishes of augmentation. "Ah.. which of these are.. good with- is that blood?" He blinks at the suspicious container in surprise.

"oF cOuRsE iT Is mY bOy!" laughs the tea baron.

"It adds that certain special something." adds the web-minder.

"Sup it up, drip drip drip into cup." says the mushroom herder.

"Would you like a muffin?" asks the luck broker, lifting a normal sized bowl of muffins to you with his thumb and forefinger.

"Ahh.." His mind suddenly swims with Naba's stories of blood used.. in rituals for its.. aether, blinking at the little serving dish of blood in a vaguely stricken manner, scanning his tablemates slowly with a slight nod, suddenly perking up at the offer of muffins. "Oh yes, that.. sounds wonderful." He carefully selects the nearest muffin from the bowl, held so precariously by the luck broker's massive fingers, sniffing it and inspecting it curiously.

"We mAdE tHeM wiItH GeNuine MoRTaL BloOD!" says the tea baron proudly.

"So tell me boy." rumbles the luck broker, producing a deck of cards. "Do you like to gamble?"

The other three begin to laugh, each in their own way. The web minders laugh is demure and reserved, the mushroom herders is a snorting series of grunts, and the tea barons is a maddened cackle.

"Ahh.." He gingerly sets the muffin next to his steaming tea, eyeing them both with some concern before blinking at the luck broker and his fanning cards, eyeing the other three as the laugh, feeling like the nub of a long-standing joke. "Well, ah.. I'm not very good, but.. I'm also not certain I.. know what.. rules you play by?"

"I have dice, if you prefer..." he says, holding out a pair of carved bone dice in another hand. "And of course, there's always pegs." he adds, his lips curled back in a smile to reveal horrifying fangs in addition to his tusks.

"Oh, I know pegs.. not very good at pegs though. Of course.. you.. are Ejirwakk luck broker. Such a naming suggests you.. have some ability with.. luck, chance.." His brows lift questioningly and he glances toward the other three, gauging their reaction.

He laughs. "Hah! Yes! You are cleverer than some." he says, slapping a huge knee with one of his hands. You notice he has a tail as well, one not unlike yours. In fact, in a way he sort of resembles a gigantic, purple, four-armed, monstrous bhaan, in the same way the tea baron resembles a terrifying mirror of a hyn.

"I collect it. Sell it, trade it." the luck broker explains, reaching into a pouch on his belt and pulling something out. "But I especially like to play for it." he says, holding up a slender, wispy gold and silver thread, like a hair almost, except glowing and...sort of floating.

"Threads.. of.." he swallows, glancing toward the mushroom herder briefly, "fate."

"You just.. gamble them? I don't.. ah, have a thread yet." He glances down at the table, stroking the edge thoughtfully, his tail swishing and flicking in a suppressed manner.

"Oh, everyone has luck..." he assures you. "Some more than others. But everyone has something. At least...until they lose it." he says with a laugh.

Tareq groans, chuckling lightly. "It seems to be your.. area of understanding so, I shall take your word for it, but.." he shakes his head ruefully, lifting his tea cup and swirling the contents gently. "I believe I.. may be the least lucky bhaan to.. walk the world thus far. If that is the coin required.." he shakes his head again, glancing at Ejirwakk apologetically.

"Such a pity. Perhaps you could stand to win some, eh?" he says with another laugh. "If you change your mind..."

"Now, now, best not push too hard..." says the web-minder. "You'll frighten him. Mortals scare so very easily."

"AnD tHEn tEH WiZiIR WiLL bE UpSeT!" exclaims the tea baron, sipping his tea.

"Fearful, fearful, sleepy day, hungry, hungry, easy prey." says the mushroom herder.

He nods lightly at the luck broker's cajoling, glancing at web-mender and nodding more faintly, starting to sip his tea when the Tea Baron pipes up. "The 'Wiziir'? Is.. that the 'sage' or, someone else?"

The mushroom herder's voice draws his attention though and he refocuses on her and her glorious rack of antlers with his qimling friend nestled upon her, speaking with her.. in a way he cannot. He frowns a little and grips his amulet.

The little qimling chirps a few times, lifting its head to look at you. After a moment, it slithers off her shoulders and over toward you on the table, peering up at you.

He smiles apologetically but gratefully at the little qimling as it slither scurries over, reaching out to stroke it gently if it is close enough. "Oh no, little love.. I'm- it's alright. I just.. I've been.. trapped before, by the dream.." He clears his throat. "Just.. a bit nervous about.. that.. heh."

The little qim-critter trills pleasantly as you pet it, before flopping on its back and looking up at you expectently.

"It appears your little pet has taken a liking to our latest guest." muses the Web-Minder with a chuckle.

The mushroom herder doesn't answer, but she doesn't look particularly happy, nor amused.

Tareq smiles lovingly down at the qimling as soon as it flips belly-up, obligingly stroking its belly with long blue fingers, cooing at it quietly. He glances up warmly at the web-minder and turning to the mushroom herder as well, intending to comment in response until he notices her expression. He sucks in a breath, eyes widening dramatically. "I, ah.. it was.. quite fearful, when.. it came over? I just.. I mean how could I not? Just look at this little.. love.." He shrugs a little, grinning down at the qimling once more.

She just glares at you in return, while the little qimling ignores her, rolling about as you rub its silky belly. Unable to bear her gaze, you glance around and notice a small fire not far away in the clearing. Over it hangs a clothesline. You see some tattered men's clothing hanging over it, including a pair of socks. Disturbingly, the clothing is bloody, dripping onto the ground and into the fire. Particularly you notice a pair of bloody socks.

Then the qimling latches onto your hand with a play-bite, clutching your hand with its two foreclaws while kicking wildly with its four rear legs, completely unconcerned by its gruesome surroundings.

As her penetrating murder-gaze bores into him he makes the conscious decision to spend his last moments of life stroking the qimling's deliciously soft belly with its mottled blue patterns, musing over the fact that its glow is less here, wondering if it simply Seems less because so many other things here glow? Then his wandering gaze rivets on the fire with the bloody clothesline and dripping clothes above it, trying to gauge whether they.. might be roughly his size, as the qimling assaults his hand and arm, clearing his throat and resuming quietly cooing at how ferocious and powerful it is, wondering if its lack of concern over its mistress' ire will result in it protecting him or abandoning him if the Mushroom Herder turns completely upon him.

Eijwakk is probably laying odds on the likelihood already. Do they bet on such things before guests arrive? Probably.

The clothes look significantly smaller than what you might wear...more like hyn-sized...also socks have toes, since hyn are weird and don't have sharp toenails and fingernails...

Despite the little qimling doing its best to play-mawl your hand, there is a sense of unreality to it...you can feel it, but its numb, hazy...time feels very distorted as well. It seems like everyone is just staring at you, as you are in a window of being play-mawled by your smijj-wyrm...

Tareq is marginally relieved as they seem to be far too small to be his own.. except that.. probably means they belong to.. whichever poor mortal became muffins and tea sweetener today? But why.. roast them over a fire? They're.. clothes?

He refocuses his attention on the qimling's miniature ferocity centering himself with it's prickles and scratches, frowning a bit at the feeling of 'not quite here-ness', tugging the finger it's currently gnawing on a little bit playfully. Trying not to think about how permanent death in the dream might be, he glances over at the web-minder once more, oddly the least innocuous entity here but the one he is currently the least afraid of.. though he suspects she is no less dangerous, his attention focuses more on the knitting she is doing and how closely the fiber she's using resembles the luck broker's Threads of Fate(tm).

She appears to be knitting a complex 'scarf' of some sort. The threads closely resemble the brokers golden threads, but have a more silvery-iron color to them...as if they are the different flavor of the same base quality...

"WoUlD YoU LiKE TO sEE A TriCK!?" asks the Tea Baron from behind you, suddenly inches from your face, his black eyes and long needle teeth looking extra horrifying up close.

He freezes, eyes flaring wide, long fingered blue hands locked in place around the qimling's tiny assault, forcibly relaxing them first as he releases a long breath that is only a tone or two away from being an undignified squeak before it resolves into a word. "Suuuuuuuuuuuure??"

He claps excitedly with his weird six-fingered hands. There's something...off about him, now, even more than before but you can't place it...at least not yet.

He removes a box from under the table, placing it in front of you carefully. It is a colorfully painted box with squares and triangles, and an image of a cartoonish wumpa on the front. On the side is a hand crank.

As soon as he places the box, the little qimling abandons your hand, instead slithering off the table behind you.

"NoW WaTCh cLOsSELY!!" exclaims the tea baron, grabbing the handle and beginning to crank, as a silly, almost mocking tune begins to play...the other three beginning to laugh heartily and...creepily.

He lifts his hands to allow the qimling's retreat, the fact that it does so increasing his suspiciousness level, but having not the slightest idea what is to come.. He hesitantly returns his attention to the.. musical wumpa box, rolling his shoulders as the laughter of the others grows around him.

As he cranks the wheel...a sense of dread begins to build in you, as time seems to slow to a crawl. The clearing seems to take on a reddish glow as the laughter of the gathered grows more and more maniacal, malevolent...they seem larger somehow. Much larger...giants...leering down at you, as the hellish sound continues to play forth from the box.

Suddenly you just cannot take it anymore.

A terrible, screaming fear takes you, a strangled cry pouring from your lips as you bolt from the clearing and the mad tea party inhabitants, tearing through the forest in a desperate escape...a forest now dark and foreboding and twisted...

As something begins to chase you...something large, and hungry, and terrible...you can sense its hot breath on your back as you run...your foot catches a vine and you crash to the ground...a massive maw and hot breath and then...

The air here is dank and rancid, offending your keen nostrils. Water drips off the walls of the stone tunnel leading deeper into the hallowed out mountain. Your claws clack lightly on the stone floor as you prowl through the dim hallways, a pale ghost hidden in the darkness.

This is a bad place.

It wasn't enough for the Hyn invaders to raid your hunting grounds and butcher your innocents. They came with their swords and their loud gonnes, grasping for your peoples gold, your culture, your secrets. They got what they wanted. Your people didn't want their stupid war. Just wanted to survive their cruel exile in these unforgiving mountains.

The hyn found something here. Something dark and terrible that should have stayed buried, the elders say. Something the same elders feared so much they sought to lead your people even further into the cold and bitter mountains. But they stole your clans artifacts. They stole your peoples past. You cannot let that slight go unpunished. The elders would roll over and show their bellies to the hyn. But you would have revenge.

So now it falls to you and your friends. You may be young, but you are strong and fast and brave, and when you return your clans treasures, drenched in the blood of the hyn invaders, the elders will have no choice but to make you a khaal. Perhaps you will even lead your own pack! Even more importantly, Fangs-First will see what a great warrior you are, much better than that loud, stupid Lonely-Storm. Sure, he and his pack may have beaten you here, but when he and his cronies inevitably fail, you shall be there to pick up the pieces. Your path is dangerous, but if you succeed, the rewards could be immeasurable.

You have ventured deep into the cavern, finding no signs of life save for dim torches and freshly slain hyn, no doubt slain by Lonely-Storm and his packmates. Yet still no sign of your peoples artifacts. Crates and crates of ore and dreamstone, yes. You will be be wealthy beyond measure once you claim the caverns riches for your own. But that will come later. First, you must find your peoples artifacts, and deal with whatever hyn you come across. It may come to it that you must also deal with Lonely Storm, but you expect he will eat one of the shiny balls the hyn shoot from their gonnes before it comes to that.

With an arrow nocked in your trusty bow, and your bone carver strapped across your back, you steady your nerves and head deeper into the cavern. Suddenly, your keen hearing picks up a sound. A choking noise. From the tunnel up ahead.

Eyes narrowing, I freeze, listening for any other errant movement before quietly moving toward the sound, expecting some hyn ploy.. but perhaps Lonely-Storm is just careless and has left a hyn not-quite dead behind him. Foolish either way.

It sounds like a choking...a gagging noise. Like someone choking on blood. By the sound of it, it's a hyn. A male...too deep for a female.

"Rnnngggg...kkk..k.kkkk...kkerk...." you hear the sound. The gurgler sounds like he's trying to say something in that awful, grating grunting language of theirs, but you haven't the faintest idea what; you don't speak hyn. But it sounds weak, desperate. It sounds like its coming from the tunnel up ahead, in what looks like another storage room.

I move swiftly and softly up the tunnel to the storeroom doorway, claws clacking quickly. Pausing out of sight long enough to identify where in the room the not-dead hyn is before stepping within, bow at the read, quickly scanning the room for sign of any of my people's treasures or any clue as to where they might be found. I also scan the hyn in question for any sign that they might be able to lead me to where they've been taken.. Perhaps I can make it to the cache before Lonely-Storm after all. If the hyn is not too stupid, and not already dying.

You are a ghost, an undetectable spirit, moving silently through the cavern...though perhaps not as undetectable and silent as you'd like. The stone floor is clearly to blame.

As you reach the storeroom doorway, you quickly scan for movement, such as guards or other members of Lonely-Storms pack.. Confidant there are none here, you slip inside. Though the room is dimly lit, your superior ko'jinn vision allows you to see with ease. You see many crates, some half open, packed with straw. There appear to be artifacts of some kind in here, but you don't immediently recognize any specifically of your people yet. Might be worth looking around though...

But first...

You quickly locate the source of the gurgling. A hyn man, light skinned and learn, laying in the corner of the room, hidden amidst some boxes. At first, it looks like he's been wounded, perhaps his throat sloppily cut, not done properly to finish the job.

But you quickly realize this man has suffered a far worse fate.

"Hrrrkkkk...kkkrrk...krrkkkkkk..." the man says, reaching up for you with gnarled fingers. A thick, viscous fluid oozes from his eyes, nose, and mouth. It cakes his eyes, mouth, and nostrils, oozing out in thick ropey strands. His throat bulges unnaturally, something...moving...inside. The man gives off a rancid, foul odor the closer you get... mixture of decay, infection, and burnt flesh. Foul, eye watering, and sickly sweet.

What is this??

What begins as a cursory inspection turns to dramatic concern, stepping back swiftly before it can infect me too. My eyes widen at the rapid, fetid illness taking this hyn, reviewing all those I know and determining it to be something new and terrible.

Perhaps it is a hyn-sickness? But what is inside? Whatever it is must Not come out! I bring the bow to bear and attempt to shoot him directly in the neck, intent on killing whatever seems to be moving inside him more than the hyn itself.

The sharpened bone arrow punches deeply into the mans throat. There is a horrible, wretched squeal! But not from the man...from whatever is inside him. You see thick black goo oozing out of the wound, the mans neck pulsating violently as whatever is inside him thrashes wildly, sending him tumbling onto his side. Suddenlyh, the thrashing stops, leaving only his desperate gurgling. He reaches up at you weakly, and notice more of the viscous fluid covering his hands and fingers.

He's still alive, somehow.

His dark eyes peer up at you, pleadingly as he makes his low choking gurgle, as if begging you for help. Or maybe he's asking for death. It's hard to say with a hyn. Admittedly, at this point, perhaps they are one and the same?

I take satisfaction in the distinctive thrashing and squealing, up until the hyn does not die and continues to exude whatever that foul smelling slime is. I consider moving in and attempting to behead him, but if it touches me and infects me with.. whatever foul parasite is taking him, then Lonely-Storm Wins. No.

I take a couple more steps back and resume riddling him with careful, close range arrows. Another to the neck, one aimed for an eye socket. It.. seems to be repair him, or.. moving him at least. If I can damage the body beyond repair, perhaps it will shrivel. Or reveal itself fully.

Your first arrow slams into his neck once more, causing another brief, thrashing spasm, which causes your second shot to be a tad low, slamming into his cheek just below his eyeball. Your third strikes true, punching into the eye socket, and he at lays still, his hand limply falling to the stone floor. His mouth hangs open, the slimy, rancid fluid oozing out, resembling a disgusting mixture of snot and rotten milk. Then, two long ropey tendrils slough out out of his mouth, thrashing weakly as if in death throes upon the cold stone. They almost resemble some sort of tails or long worms.

I step back quickly as the rancid pool pours out of his mouth along with the two flopping tendrils. I sling my bow and pull my axe, watching to be sure they die, ready to sever them if they lunge for me.

Is this what they found? No wonder it was locked away! Stupid Hyn! Who would think This worth digging up? Perhaps it is not the same, maybe they stumbled stupidly into.. a nest. Yes, that makes more sense. Stupid Hyn, stealing other peoples' treasures, serves them right!

After a few spastic quivers, the tendrils go limp, and the cavern is again filled with an eerie silence, the mans single remaining eye staring up at you lifelessly through the sheen of slimy film.

I relax a bit as all of the tendrils of.. whatever it is cease their unnatural movements and take the opportunity to move around the room, inspecting the various items within, both to be sure none of my people's artifacts are here and also checking to see if anything here might serve me in my quest to prove myself.

Some of the crates are sealed, thus necessitating you pry the lids off with the handy prybars they have laying around. Surprisingly, you are able to do so quite quietly, all things considered. Of course...you Are Quiet Seven Claws, after all. Why can't Fangs-First see that??

Anyway. At first, you simply find some sort of weird crude statues, the make of which you don't recognize. Voj'myr make, maybe? Or Kyur? Who knows what the lesser tribes consider 'art'.

After about a dozen tries, you pry open a crate and find some your peoples relics! Carved wooden decorative totem-sticks and sun callers, each important. But the real treasure is a solid gold statue of the great venjir wyr'qim T'charr Vaskirr, mistress of flame and fury. A feeling of pride and devotion swells in your heart as you lift the relic, examining it carefully. It's heavy, despite being barely half a foot tall. The many eyes of the sun-goddess surely sees your heroism even here, deep within this foul cavern. Perhaps she will even reward you, and see you elevated to the ranks of her chosen warriors. At the very least, surely your clan will witness your greatness, even for returning just this one holy artifact. Could it really be this easy?

But there are surely more in here somewhere. If you were to return them all...you could even be become one of the Bluj'khejir! One of the blood tested!

Suddenly, your ears perk up as you hear noises coming down the tunnel. The scraping of metal or bone on stone. And a distinctive sound you'd hoped to not hear again...

"Hrrk. Hrrrrkkkkk. Krrrkkk."

I permit myself a quiet growl of victory at the discovery of the golden T'charr Vaskirr statue, holding it aloft to bask it its/my greatness for but a moment before quickly wrapping it in whatever loose bit of packing might protect it, pulling it off of other worthless 'art' objects if needed before tucking it carefully into my carrypack. I daydream about my triumphant return as I do so, until it is rudely interrupted by the horrible choking sound again. I shoot an accusing glance at the dead hyn, expecting it to be the source until it clicks that it is Definitely coming from the hallway instead.

No. No no, this is not how it is supposed to go! I grab the rest of the totem sticks and sun callers, tucking them swiftly into my carrypack, trying to be careful, but distracted by visions of the pulsing thing trapped in that hyn's neck, slinging it onto my back and readying my bow once more. Planning out how best to tell the tale of my exploits I slink to the doorway, peering suspiciously down the tunnel toward the sound, expecting another hyn, taken with whatever sickness this is, but concerned that the metal scrape means it has armed itself rather than dying, as is proper.

In the darkness, far beyond that a hyn could see, you see two forms shambling your way. They have the profile of Hyn, but their gate is clumsy and odd, even for a flat-foot, as if their legs are not bending properly. They are dragging what appears to be swords, of the odd slender bladed make of hyn ironbenders.

They are each making the unsettling, gurgling choke of the one before... "Hrrk. Krkk. Nrrrkk."

I determine them to be a threat to the tale of my greatness so I attempt to put arrows in their stupid clumsy throats before their dirty hyn vision can even see me, hah!

You take careful aim and loose an arrow at one of the shambling nightmares. It slams into...the thing...with a satisfying thunk. Prompting a terrifying shrieking bellow, which echoes throughout the caverns...then the two creatures start shambling toward you rapidly...you can probably get another shot off before they enter into melee range, or you can attempt to pull back through another tunnel. This place is maze-like and confusing.

Getting into melee range is Clearly what they want! So they can infect me with their disgusting hyn-sickness! Besides, nobody can tell the tales of my glory to their children if I don't make it out with my treasures! I wish to pull back to another tunnel and maintain my distance, especially considering it took 4 arrows to put down the 'mostly dead one.' Clearly whatever this parasite is makes them Much stronger than stupid hyn normally are.

You're much faster than they are, easily outpacing them down one of the tunnels.

Its then you notice the markings on the wall. They are...strange. Like nothing you've ever seen before. Legends tell of ancient gods, the 'shapers', who made the world as it was...did they do this? Did they create this place?

I take a few moments to inspect the strange markings, making Certain that they are not some lesser race's scribblings, trying to recall if any of the other tunnels had these markings on them, or if I've reached a deeper, more secret part of these fetid caverns.

Now that you have a decent look...you know, they probably just the imaginings of a particularly creative kyur or something. Or at least, what passes for creativity among them.

"Hrrkk. Errrk." the approaching noise again demands your focus.

Wait, its coming from deeper into the tunnel, the direction you're headed. Uh oh.

"Hrrrk! Krrrk! Krrrrrrkrkkkkk!" come the other two, still tenaciously shambling in pursuit of you.

I snarl at the stupid wall for distracting me for no good reason, ears flicking as they pick up the sounds-of-terrible from both directions. Stupid hyn! Stupid Lonely Storm! He did this! Couldn't even kill them properly and let this hyn-sickness parasite pick up the pieces! I make a mental note to inform him of this new stupidity when I catch up with him and move toward the new sound, hoping it is one instead of two and planning to ambush it and move past before it can catch me!

You are unable to discern the creatures exact location before hiding, but you are able to find a suitable position in the shadows, where your white coat won't be noticeable, just as the khaals taught you when you were a kip.

Soon, the creature lurches into view, stopping only a few feet from your hiding place. Another hyn, drenched in the pale slime. This man is shirtless, his stomach distended and swollen at an odd angle, something moving beneath the flesh. Like an obscene, nightmarish pregnancy. To your horror you notice long ropey tendrils, dangling out of his nose and mouth, which flip about like wyrms.

"Krrrkk. Krkk. Errk." it croaks, the tendrils whipping about in the air as if performing an obscene dance.

Or...communicating.

Eyes narrowing I press the advantage! Popping up out of my hiding place, bow at the ready, pointing at the lurching stomach which must surely hold the.. main parasite? "Stop! I know how to kill you! You live only at my mercy and it is thin!" I watch it closely, ready to fire into the disgusting hyn stomach if it does not respond appropriately. "..and Fast!"

It almost immediately lunges for you, and so you loose your arrow! It strikes true, puncturing into the creatures stomach. It shrieks with a horrifying, nightmarish wail, blood and some sort of black goop oozing from the wound as whatever is in the hyns stomach thrashes wildly.

Then it lunges again, reaching for you with slime-coated hands!

I bark victoriously, followed quickly by a yelp as it lunges far too close and I feint toward the far wall before attempting a quick dash around it down the hallway, away from it and the two other hyn-sick behind me. Far enough to stay beyond their slimy reach and rain death upon them, protecting my treasures and growing my legend!

Thankfully, the hideous abomination is clumsy and awkward, even more so than a non-diseased hyn, and you are easily able to avoid his sticky, diseased fingers and the dark goop spattering from the wound! Your superior ko'jinn legs allow you to easily outrun the disabled flat-foots as you dash down the mysterious, ancient tunnel!

Once beyond what seems to be normal hyn visual range and far enough from them for my hackles to settle I will shift to quiet creeping. I examine the walls of this tunnel as I go, trying to keep track of where I've been and listening both for other hun-sick as well as my competition. The weight of the statue in my carrypack gives me confidence, but does not sate my lust for glory.. especially not if Lonely-Storm might be getting close to greater treasures.

As you prowl silently through the dark tunnels, you see more and more of the strange artwork and symbols on the walls, but you can't make claws or tails out of them...whatever tribe made them, they sure kept busy though.

After a bit of prowling, you hear another horrible shriek echoing throughout the halls, but its impossible to tell where exactly it came from...its loud though, and horrific. How many of these things are there?

You notice the walls are starting to look moist, and the rancid odor grows stronger and stronger, stinging your nostrils and making your eyes burn and water.

Then you hear a distinctive "Hrkkk. Krrrkk. Krkk." up ahead...

I blink the sting from my eyes, attempting to restrict the amount of stench reaching my sensitive nose by sheer force of will as the terrible shrieking rings out.

The walls did not have the slime before. The nest must be closer now. Is Lonely-Storm battling the mother? -heart? What kind of thing spawns such an infestation? Wounds left to fester grow little worms, but they are small and easily crushed.

These are.. awake. Stupid like a hyn, but dangerous. New danger bites hardest. To the heart, or to the sky? How many behind now? Deciding there are enough branching paths to retreat down later I continue quietly forward down the fetid slime tunnel, bolstering myself with how I will tell the story of my single-handed bravery.

Your heart pounds inside you as you silently creepy through the rancid cavern. The 'hrrkk...krrk...' sound grows louder, yet you see no sign of-wait. As you round the corner, there's something...along the wall up ahead. As you quietly creep closer, you see several (three) hyn...laying on the ground, faintly illuminated by the dying light of the lightstones they've imbedded into the walls. Like all the other stones here, the stones seem to be fading, the magic used to charge them in desperate need of recasting.

These hyn are even worse off than the others. Their flesh is pallid, having been almost entirely drained of color. Their stomachs have ballooned to what would be considered comical proportions, if they were not so horrific to behold. The skin is stretches so thin as to be vaguely translucent, and something large and white rests inside each of their grotesquely swollen bellies, coiled tightly in a ball of chalk white girth and tentacles.

Near them is a doorway, but at this angle you can't see whats inside...

Close, so close to the nest. These eggs will crack soon. And death will come out, one for one. But the hosts are too weak now, silent silent, see what's inside.

Being careful to avoid touching the distended, translucent hyn-eggs, he moves quietly down the hall far enough to see into the room beyond them.

Your claws click quietly on the stone as you slip along, stealthy as you can. You hear something...something heavy...something wet. Like ragged breath, or dark things slithering across the stone floor. As you peer into the room beyond...you witness a scene of hideous and indescribable horror. A horrifying shriek fills your ears as fear and madness claw at your heart.

And at last you understand the answer to all the questions you never knew you had.

Suddenly, in a flash, you're no longer with Naba. You're no longer even in Riddle.

Or this dimension, for that matter.

Its like you're in a memory. A memory inside a massive purple cavern with veins of blueish-silver and crimson networking itself like a massive spider web leading to a central hub that twists around itself in the center of the cavern. The veins seem to pulse with a strange energy, pumping like the veins of a huge beast. Naba is faint, distant.

Or threads. Pulsing, 'threads'.

A strange looking entity lingers next to you. It is a creature with shaggy golden fur and scales, three eyes, long floppy ears, and a crest of four backward curving horns. Two huge tusks curve out of its maw. It stands on two beast-like legs but has a long serpentine tail and six arms, each with ten fingers which seem to bend both ways. It is vaguely translucent, as if its not entirely corporeal. Nor does it have a discernable sex.

"Choose. Chooooose. For teh jyrny, ahed." it says, speaking in a raspy whisper. It sounds urgent.

"What? No, what? Where.." he turns his head slowly, scanning the cavern, afraid to move and uncertain whether he is.. in both places? Krell! Did I just pass out in the street?? What is happen- oh no..

"It can't be now, I'm not ready- How can I just.. choose a path, just.. like that?" He turns to the translucent entity questioningly and freezes. "Ah.. h-hello."

It looks at you with its three eyes, cocking its head and blinking with all three eyes. "Hello. Chooose. Choooooose now. For teh futyr."

He swallows, nodding uncertainly, blinking between the twined silver and red 'tree' and his.. translucent horned friend with too many limbs and fingers. "How?? How can I know what is right? How can I know.. what I will need? What the world needs? I don't even remember most of my own life thus far.. I have so little to work with.. This is.. forever. A long forever.."

"NO right. NO wrong." it says, several of its weird fingers pointing at you then itself in a disturbing manner. "Only perrspect. Choooose. Choooooooooooooose for perrspect."

Tareq watches the creatures' movements with attentive concern, frowning back at the twined 'tree' of many woven threads. "Only perspect-ive? Wait, what about the others? Ejirwakk, Xanoxaphixia.. did.. she weave this? Or.. were they just.. fragments of the dream?"

"Fragments. Choice. Many questions. Choose. Chooooooooooooooooooose. Destiny. Perspec." it implores, drumming its many many fingers together impatiently.

"Destiny." He speaks the word reverently and shivers, gazing at the massive pulsing tangle of vein like threads. "How can it be.. so beautiful, and yet.. so terrifying? I yearn for it, yet I question even that.. Perhaps I have.. felt so broken for so long that.. it clouds my ability to.. know myself as.. I suspect others do. Drayne certainly does." He chuffs a bit, then clears his throat self consciously, glancing at his translucent companion.

"..apologies. You are.. only here to, see that a decision is made, aren't you?"

It listens, occasionally serenely blinking as you talk, but offers little else, drumming its multiple pairs of creepy long fingers together weirdly.

"Yes. Choooooose. Chooooooooose. For teh futyr. Perspect." it says, gesturing to the twist of threads. You notice not all of them are glowing...many are dull and faint.

Tareq nods, returning his attention to the many twined threads, taking a deep resolute breath.. only to release it with a concerned rumble, frowning as he approaches the.. tree? ..hub? "Why are some so faint? And others.. barely alight? What causes- wait. Do.. they only glow when.. one is chosen?" He blinks back to his translucent friend and his many impatiently drumming fingers.

"Sum sleep. Sum unborn. Sum wek." it explains, blinking. It pauses its finger drumming for a moment as you take in the many strands.

You notice a few of the 'threads/veins', appear...different. They are sickly and pale, with a 'dead' look about them.

"Sum fade." adds the creature before resuming its finger drumming. "Choooooose. Choooooooooose. For teh futyr."

Tareq's brows shift sorrowfully as he notices both the dim and lifeless seeming threads. "Some fade.. some unborn.. wait, is this.. all of us?" He turns back to the golden-furred figure with so many arms and fingers with some concern. "Our numbers dwindle.. far fewer now than once there were.." He turns back to the many twined threads, circling it carefully, pensive. Is temma's struggling thread here? Serethu's? My brother's..? Do they remain once we're gone? "..and one day we will all be gone. Who will carry Tehk'aht's favor then?"

He falls silent for a time, gazing around the purple cavern and the shifting silver and crimson glows.

"Many come. Many go. Path always walked." the strange creature responds cryptically, using one of its arms and fingers to mimic figures coming, and another arm to imitate the 'going' part.

"Perspect. Introspek. Answer clear."

Tareq nods. "As you say. The path is always walked.. as it should be."

He swallows heavily and nods to himself. "I always.. thought I knew what I would choose when this day came. But now that it is here, I waver. What I thought I knew.. this world needs something different. It needs.. for me to be different."

"I choose my brother's path. I choose K'aht's crimson thread."

The creatures fingers stop drumming in unison as it blinks, nodding serenely at you.

"Gooood. Gooooooooooooood. Perspect. Introspek. Gooood. The path bloodied before you. Will answer. Wisdom. Insight."

Tareq watches his transluscent friend, nodding. "I fear you are correct.. I expect my path will be.. bloodier than I would like. But with Tehk'aht's grace I hope.. it will at least be righteous."

The creature nods again, serenely. "Chooooose. Take thred. Grasp with fingurs. For teh futyr." it says, gesturing to the twist of threads with all six of its arms in unison.

Tareq nods again, turning back to the twist of many threads, examining them and reaching out gently for the one that speaks to him most.

"For the future."

As your fingers touch one of the dimmed red threads, it lights up, its red glow slowly coiling into your fingertips. Pulling away, the thread seems to split, a glowing ethereal version twisting around your fingers and slowly working its way up your body. As it does so, you feel a growing sensation of courage and zeal within your heart.

Tareq watches the ethereal thread as it coils into his fingers, smiling in quiet surprise as his heart swells with confidence. "Thank you.."

"Your choice. Your futyr." he says, watching you serenely as the feeling envelops you. The red thread turns to mist as it flows into your nostrils and mouth, filling your lungs with a feeling of confidence and strengthened resolve. A memory tugs at your mind.

Tareq breathes in the mist, deeply serene, exhaling on a long, satisfied rumble. "Marvelous.. this is.. marvelous. Tehk'aht sing your steps, threadguide."

He smiles, sniffing the last wisps like a disappearing flower, chasing the memory, trying to catch firm hold of it.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
You find yourself in a snowy courtyard. After a few moments, familiarity dawns, and you realize it is the courtyard of your youth. You see your younger self, along with Rissa, Tam, and Mushroom. They are all sitting in a circle, with Tam sitting on a step, the others on the stone ground. Mushroom is simply squatting down, using her tail like a tripod.

"Ouch!" your younger self says as Rissa makes a small cut on your thumb with your knife.

"Big baby." Rissa giggles. "At least you didn't cry like Tam."

"I didn't cry!" whines Tam, though you can clearly see a few fat tears still in his eyes.

Mushroom is watching the rest of you quietly, while periodically examining the small cut on her finger with a detached curiosity. You remember now; the lote of you were playing with the knife and Mushroom got 'bit'. Then Rissa suggested making an event of the situation. It wasn't long before the incident with the bullies; just a week or two before, actually.

Tareq takes in the snowy courtyard with a slow smile and a chuckle. "..and the first thing my future shows me? My past.. a good piece though."

He approaches the small group, himself and his first friends, chuckling at his youthful yelp, but finding his gaze drawn to Mushroom like a magnet. Is it possible she's still alive? This day.. she truly became one of us, part of our family. She must have felt it, to defend us as she did.

"munchroom." Mushroom says quietly, watching the others curiously. "It's ok, Mushroom. We're doing an important ritual." says Rissa. "munchroom." answers the little ko'jinn. "Now your turn, Riss." says Tam. Rissa takes a deep breath, looking at the knife in her hand. "It was your idea-" Tam says.

"I know. Hush!" she answers, frowning.

"I can help." your younger self offers, holding out a hand.

Rissa hesitates, then nods, handing your younger self the knife. He hesitates as well, then carefully makes a small poke in Rissa's thumb, as Tam holds her hand.

"Ok that wasn't so bad. Now for the other important part." Rissa declares.

"munchroom." chirps Mushroom, probably wondering why hyn are so weird.

Tareq watches the proceedings warmly, grinning at his younger self and Rissa's stoicism and hesitation. "Now for the 'other important part' indeed.." He approaches the group, hunkering down near their rough circle as if joining them, focusing on their faces, doing his best to solidify them in his memory, particularly since this one feels.. like a gift of sorts.

"Are you sure it will work?" asks Tam.

"Of course it will work. Its a REAL SPELL. Well, ritual." says Rissa.

"How'd you find this spell again?" asks your younger self.

"The old ko'jinn lady who used to work in the kitchen taught me." Rissa explains.

"She taught you?" presses younger you.

"Well, yeah. I mean...she did it one night in the kitchen for some others, and I peeked. So its the same thing, basically."

"I mean...I guess." says Tam.

"It'll work, shush." insists Rissa, digging in a small cloth bag for something.

Tareq chuckles again. "'An old ko'jinn spell'.. oh Rissa. Perhaps there is a grain of truth in there, Mushroom doesn't seem opposed at least.." He watches Rissa and Mushroom particularly, remembering that he's supposed to learn ko'jinn ways on this journey and thus far he's not even been able to speak with Greth again. Do memories of abandoned ko'jinn kids count?

"Now, everyone rub your fingers on the rock." Rissa instructs, gesturing to a rock in the middle of them. Till now, it looked like just a random, stickball sized rock. The children begin to do so, except Mushroom who seems increasingly puzzled as to what is going on.

"Here, Mushroom. Like this." younger you says, taking her paw-hand and guiding it to the rock. She catches on, smearing some blood onto the stone. "Munch room." she says.

"Good job, Mushroom." says Rissa. She removes some powder from the bag, and sprinkles it onto the rock. Then changes her mind and just dumps the entire contents out onto the stone instead.

"Whats that?" asks Tam.

"Well, I was supposed to use some kind of ground up roots. But I didnt know what, so I just ground up an old kubbut and some dirt." Rissa explains.

"Oh. I guess that's basically the same thing." Tam says in agreement.

"..confused though. Granted, so am I." He chuckles again, examining his grown-up finger curiously, not that he's expecting such a small cut to leave much of a scar, if any. Though, to be fair, he's had very little opportunity for hurts left to mend themselves, rather than instantly erased by Beseta's hand. Kython seems less of an aggressively protective guardian though, no less loving, but less.. constrained.

To your surprise, you notice a faint, but nonetheless distinct small scar on your digit, exactly where she cut you with the knife. Very odd indeed, that such a small cut would have left a scar so many years later.

"Ok, now for the MOST IMPORTANT part." Rissa declares.

Tam watches with wide eyes. Little you seems most relaxed with the proceedings, and Mushroom...it's hard to tell. She appears curious and engaged, but as to whether or not she understands much beyond that is a mystery.

"We have the chant the words. Me, then you guys repeat." Rissa announces.

"Wait tho." protests Tam. "What about Mushroom? She can't talk."

"Oh...yeah. Snurks." Rissa says with a pout, watching Mushroom.

"Munch-room." the ko'jinn chirps.

"She can talk." little you says. "She just doesn't speak the same language as us yet. That's what Kython said."

"Kubbuts." says Mushroom.

"Hey, she said something else!" says Rissa with a gasp.

"Hmm. Curious." He rubs the small scar thoughtfully, perking up at Rissa's announcement of the 'MOST IMPORTANT' part. "A chant? I suppose that would be required.." He grins as his younger self explains that Mushroom can talk, just not the language they knew.. "So true. How many of the world's troubles stem from a simple lack of shared understanding? Many I suspect.."

"'Kubbuts' I wonder if ko'jinn care for kubbut pie? Food is a bridge that many may travel.."

"Can't we can just Pretend she's repeating after us?" offers Tam.

"Okay." agrees Rissa.

"Are you sure that will work with the spell?" asks Younger You.

"Yep." says Rissa. "Now listen." she declares, clearing her throat.

"I have to use the bathroom." says Tam.

"Hold it." says Rissa.

"...Should I repeat that?" asks Younger You.

"No! Just...ok, I'm starting now." Rissa sighs, then clears her throat again before gesturing dramatically.

"Wojja wanja woja winj-" she says, then waits as you and Tam repeat her rhyme.

Mushroom chirps something in her own language, cocking her head curiously.

[Insight] As best you can tell, she's basically asking "you speak jhinn?"

Tareq shakes his head at his younger, eager self, feeling a distinct kinship.. as it should be I suppose, as he is myself. Though, if I do not recall existing as him.. I wonder sometimes.. how much would I be myself if I did? He frowns at the small scar on his fingertip once more, trying to make sense of the words Rissa speaks, brows lifting in surprise as they actually.. sound like some form of jinn-khet.

He turns to Mushroom at her question, both surprised and saddened for the words he did not have to understand her then. "Not then my friend, but I do have some now.. Rissa must have listened more closely than we thought, for you to know her words as your own. Or something close anyway.."

"Ooja, ahmja, oja!" announces Rissa, as younger you and Tam repeat.

Rissa proceeds with more weird, rhyming words. As you watch, you see Mushrooms face register more confusion, followed by disappointment, as she realizes her friends really can't understand her, and are just parroting words the same way she does in common.

Tareq sighs, watching Mushroom sympathetically. The half-hearted hope that she might see grown-him as she did once before withering, unrealized.

"And yet still, you came to our aid.. without hesitation or.. understanding of what consequences there might be. We did not know what you gave for us that day. And even now.. I can only guess."

As she chants, Rissa gestures at younger you, and you pause a moment, blinking, before placing your hand on the stone. Rissa then gestures to Tam, who does the same, as you lift the stone up for him to reach.

"Friends forever. Always." Rissa says, you and Tam repeating. She then gestures at Mushroom, who just cocks her head, chirping something curiously but you cant make it out. Little you guides her little hand to the stone, and then it seems to click for her as she watches, transfixed.

"Friends forever. Always." Rissa says, you and Tam repeating. Mushroom tries as well, offering a warbled, nonsensical parroting of the phrase.

Tareq watches the quiet tableau unfold, blinking around the group. "'Friends forever. Always.' What sort of adults would enact such a ritual? Is this.. really a bonding ritual? If only I'd seen this while I remained in the qirn, I could have asked Bountiful Golden Flowers. Somehow.. I suspect Greth would just bark in my face."

Thinking back to your childhood at the Qirn, with your friend Drayne, it dawns at you that these children are no more enacting a magical spell than you and Drayne were going on adventures against terrible monsters and warlords armed with your padded wooden weapons and 'heroes cloaks' that Beseta would make for the two of you. Just half remembered chants giving way to childhood imaginings, and yet, somehow, this moment was a powerful enough to you at the time for you to seal it away, hiding it deep within your mind where it would be safe.

You watch the four of you repeat the chant a few more times. Afterward, Rissa gives another rhyming chant and then blows the dust off the rock.

Silence.

"Did it work?" asks Tam.

"Of course it did." Rissa answers.

Mushroom rests her head against the younger you's shoulder, nuzzling it affectionately with the side and top of her head.

He chuckles again. "Of course it did." Tareq scans the group once more, blinking in surprise at Mushroom's head nuzzling his young self's shoulder, his conviction that if she survives he might be able to make peaceful contact redoubling immediately.

"We reached her before.. through the pain and hurt of what her own people did to her. I can do it again.."

"So this means we get to be friends forever?" asks Tam.

"Yup." says Rissa. "Friends till we die."

"Um...what should I do with the rock?" asks your Younger self, looking a little awkward at mushrooms head rubbing.

"Wow, mushroom likes you all of a sudden!" giggles Rissa.

"Uh, yea." comes your younger self's lame reply.

Tareq casts his eyes to the snowy sky. "That much I see is.. very much the same.." He sighs, returning his attention to the small group, settling on Mushroom once again. "'Friends until we die.' ..what did those words mean to you, Mushroom? Or the chant we did not know was in your tongue.. were those words there as well or.. something else?"

"I hope they were the same, or near enough in meaning at least. ..and that you didn't.. blame us.. for what happened." He frowns a little, keenly aware of how much memory he is missing.

"Fry-ends?" Mushroom asks, suddenly peering at you. "For-ev. Arr?"

As you stand, brain trying to comprehend what is happening, you suddenly snap back too; right back where you were. Holding Naba, trying to calm her and break her out of the breakdown that seems to have taken her.