03-14-2017, 02:36 AM
The empty street swept out in front of them, dark windows reflecting the flickering neon lighting that emanated from a few of the nearby storefronts. The Sage was thoroughly disgusted by the setting, there was no room for the sky, or anything, besides the glaring metal. It reminded him of the portal the Imperial forces had tried to take him through when he had first arrived. The blinking sign above their heads shown red with the words it displayed. Theater… Theater… blinking and reflecting off the nearby windows.
To his left, Kuzuru shouted, attempting to draw out whatever new terror awaited them in this new domicile. In most situations, the Sage would have deemed the tactic foolish. The demon was forfeiting whatever element of surprise they had managed to maintain. But it had become apparent to both primes that in the Astral Realm, danger could appear quite suddenly, without any chance for prepared reactions. It might be a nice change of pace for their enemy to reveal itself with a bit more warning.
As the demon’s challenge echoed through the empty streets, the distant hubbub of bustling city went quiet. No sound returned Kuzuru’s call, save the buzzing of the neon sign above their head and the pattering of beginning rainfall. The Sage sniffed, and held a sleeve up to block his face, keeping his dueling cane at the ready.
“Blood again.” He said, Kuzuru only nodded, scanning buildings for movement, hand on his sword and poise somehow both relaxed and taut. “This was a mistake, Daemon.” The Sage said as he glanced behind them. The wilderness had again transformed, now a snarl of wicked-looking vines and thorns. “We have left our guide to both the literal and proverbial wolves. How will we even know the troubled dreamer when we see them? Few things are truly as they appear in this place.”
“We didn’t really have much of a choice, old man.” Kuzuru shot back, his irritation quite evident. “She’s the only one who knows what’s what out here, like you said. She told us to wait here, we wait. I don’t like it either, but she sent us here.” The warrior of blood started to advance down the street slowly, “She’ll catch up when she can. For now, we figure out what to do until she gets back.”
The Sage did not immediately follow. He laughed a little, bitterly. “Do you think then that she was being honest with us?” Kuzuru turned to look at the Sage over his shoulder, but did not respond. “She claimed she could defeat those unholy fiends, but did not want us to witness it?” The Sage shook his head sadly.
“She sent us here so that we wouldn’t watch her die.” He said quietly.
From somewhere within the depths of the city, a solemn churchbell rung. The Hollow tone reverberated down the streets of the city. It was a funeral toll.
At once every door on the street swung open. Tall, hooded figures, their faces obscured by the aberrant masks they held in front of them, began to process out of the buildings on all sides. They made no sound as their dark robed forms filled the street around the two Primes, They began to flow in numbers, moving further into the city, seemingly oblivious of the intruders. The Churchbell continued to ring, shrill and clear amidst the falling bloody rain. The neon sign beamed on, it's wording altered when the primes were distracted. Terror… Terror…
Kuzuru gritted his teeth as he lost sight of the Sage amidst the tide of walkers. He kept his hand on the Blade of Lost Souls, wary that starting a fight would be suicide at this point. He wondered for perhaps the first time just what it would mean to die in the Astral Realm. He certainly didn't intend to find out. The current of robed beings pushed him further down the street, towards the very heart of the city, and Kuzuru did his best to resist the press. From out of the throng an arm grabbed his shoulder, and he whirled to find himself staring down an eel-faced mask. “We look out of place.” The Sage said simply, handing another mask to the demon.
To his left, Kuzuru shouted, attempting to draw out whatever new terror awaited them in this new domicile. In most situations, the Sage would have deemed the tactic foolish. The demon was forfeiting whatever element of surprise they had managed to maintain. But it had become apparent to both primes that in the Astral Realm, danger could appear quite suddenly, without any chance for prepared reactions. It might be a nice change of pace for their enemy to reveal itself with a bit more warning.
As the demon’s challenge echoed through the empty streets, the distant hubbub of bustling city went quiet. No sound returned Kuzuru’s call, save the buzzing of the neon sign above their head and the pattering of beginning rainfall. The Sage sniffed, and held a sleeve up to block his face, keeping his dueling cane at the ready.
“Blood again.” He said, Kuzuru only nodded, scanning buildings for movement, hand on his sword and poise somehow both relaxed and taut. “This was a mistake, Daemon.” The Sage said as he glanced behind them. The wilderness had again transformed, now a snarl of wicked-looking vines and thorns. “We have left our guide to both the literal and proverbial wolves. How will we even know the troubled dreamer when we see them? Few things are truly as they appear in this place.”
“We didn’t really have much of a choice, old man.” Kuzuru shot back, his irritation quite evident. “She’s the only one who knows what’s what out here, like you said. She told us to wait here, we wait. I don’t like it either, but she sent us here.” The warrior of blood started to advance down the street slowly, “She’ll catch up when she can. For now, we figure out what to do until she gets back.”
The Sage did not immediately follow. He laughed a little, bitterly. “Do you think then that she was being honest with us?” Kuzuru turned to look at the Sage over his shoulder, but did not respond. “She claimed she could defeat those unholy fiends, but did not want us to witness it?” The Sage shook his head sadly.
“She sent us here so that we wouldn’t watch her die.” He said quietly.
From somewhere within the depths of the city, a solemn churchbell rung. The Hollow tone reverberated down the streets of the city. It was a funeral toll.
At once every door on the street swung open. Tall, hooded figures, their faces obscured by the aberrant masks they held in front of them, began to process out of the buildings on all sides. They made no sound as their dark robed forms filled the street around the two Primes, They began to flow in numbers, moving further into the city, seemingly oblivious of the intruders. The Churchbell continued to ring, shrill and clear amidst the falling bloody rain. The neon sign beamed on, it's wording altered when the primes were distracted. Terror… Terror…
Kuzuru gritted his teeth as he lost sight of the Sage amidst the tide of walkers. He kept his hand on the Blade of Lost Souls, wary that starting a fight would be suicide at this point. He wondered for perhaps the first time just what it would mean to die in the Astral Realm. He certainly didn't intend to find out. The current of robed beings pushed him further down the street, towards the very heart of the city, and Kuzuru did his best to resist the press. From out of the throng an arm grabbed his shoulder, and he whirled to find himself staring down an eel-faced mask. “We look out of place.” The Sage said simply, handing another mask to the demon.
If history is to become legend, it first must be recorded.