Helanaii held her posture in a bit frightened manner, her dark brown hair fell in places in front of her face while she stared at them wide-eyed as they responded. A woman spoke now, she seemed incredibly annoyed, making her own presence feel completely unwanted in their ranks. Helanaii's eyes fell to the cobblestone ground, crestfallen. Being a Guardian, rejection really hit home easily especially one who had been used to only themselves.

"O-oh. Maybe you are real, I guess." Her small, shaky voice replied with the invitation to continue with them. "Thank you." 
After those few words, she remained silent. The odd group seemed to turn quickly and head into the direction of a narrow alley way. A gap separated her from the group, but it was there she felt the most in comfort with strangers. Her pace was cautious, as theirs were rushed. When they entered the narrow pass, her body became erect in the sense of mild claustrophobia which was not helped with the branches that reached out to greet her soft skin.  The clothing she wore hung a bit loosely from her frame, they were tattered and heavily worn and easily caught on the brambles that hadn't been broken through by those ahead. She was completely barefoot, her feet soft while they plodded upon the ground so gently as she followed after them.

She continued at her own pace through the brambles tried to break her layers of flesh. They failed and instead continued to be pushed aside, though some caught at her clothing. Her arms remained at her sides, her feet lead as if she walked upon a tightrope and did not seem bothered at walking atop the prickling walkway. Her eyes focused on those ahead of her, occasionally darting out at an odd sound coming from behind her. 

Do not look back. Do not look back. It's false. Do Not Look Back.

The young woman pressed on, now forcing herself to gain confidence and not completely give into fear. She had fallen a distance behind the group, but as their interest to leave increased evermore, so did her pace. She eventually met up behind them where the green little creature cut down the warped barbs with a sword. Her eyelids narrowed in response, not quite sure if she felt comfortable with that. 

If anything jumped out at them, she might be able to take partial form; having reptilian qualities with claws and her four wings, but in this tight area she would be a useless fighter which made her even more frightful, what if they turned on her for something random? For now she would just remain an average little human female, useless in every form and the most invisible out of those around her.

As the goblin leapt away into who-knew-where, Mendean tried to lift a hand, for his was the gift of moving physical objects with a thought. The twigs had thickened too much and he felt his resolve draining in the ever increasing tangle of thin pieces of stick. They clung to him, inhibiting every movement. No matter, his mind was stronger than his body. All it would take was to…

…Where was scrubble? Come to think of it, where was anything? All he could see was the thick cover of a briar patch closing in on him from all around. Not even the stone walls of the ravine through which he had been travelling were visible. Within his limited capacity to move, wherever he looked there was the thick darkness of woody stems surrounding him, enfolding and encapsulating him. Mendean realised he was trapped.

A glint of silver in the darkness between stems. Smooth, curved, like the inside of a – don't think about that – the silver gave way to the glint of eyes in the dark. Mendean heaved, bringing up a leg and pushing it forwards, twigs snapping all around him in protest. He grimaced, peering into the gloom, attempting to make contact with those eyes. Eyes that were almost human, almost sympathetic.

“Who is that? Answer me!” Another grunt. More twigs gave way and he moved forward. Clothes fraying and tearing, skin lacerating. Barely enough to draw blood, but enough to sting. The eyes blinked, looked away for a moment before returning the god's glare with a steadiness that unnerved him.

“I…am…”

“Shh!” Concern in those eyes. A whisper, urgent. Mendean frowned. “Do not announce yourself in the presence of these mortals. In this place, there is no guarantee the mental fog will work on them.

The god raised his eyebrows, answering in a harsh whisper of his own. “How do you know who I am? Is this your doing?”

“I am of the Dreaming, like you, but far less of me remains. I come with a warning. Only here am I strong enough to break through. The Devourer is coming. He will look familiar, but he will not be who you think he is.”

“What? What are you talking about? What Devourer? What does he devour?”

“Everything.” The eyes withdrew. With a roar, Mendean called upon his divine might, a nimbus surrounding him and flaring for an instant, before fading. Twigs immediately surrounding him transformed into neatly stacked columns of flies, occupying the exact same dimensions as the twigs. For a moment they remained there inert, before surging into life as one and launching themselves as a black cloud that spread outwards and up the sides of the ravine, following the traces of light from above. The droning sound echoed off smooth stone was as they rose and dispersed.

Mendean fell forwards, landing on his front. He rolled onto his back and lay there, looking up at the world from an upside-down perspective. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but his other senses had told him what he needed to know. The stranger was gone.

What lay beyond the ravine was a space where the rock opened out. Tunnels covered with rough doors made from anything available and lashed together with dried-out vines. But it was not the tunnels that fascinated the deity. Rather, it was the slack sheets of cobwebs that hung from above. Strong enough to have captured over a score of the denizens of this realm. Some moaned, others wriggled in their silken prisons, but most simply stared vacantly outwards, all the fight gone from them.

He was about to roll onto his front, when he noticed movement above. Something was moving up there. A spider? No. Spiders did not have wings. These were moths. Silk moths; each one twice the size of a man. Each one with a twisted caricature of a human face. Mendean recognised them all: prominent figures from the city above. There was guildmaster Chow of the scrivener's union, Lady Heran of the order of flowers, Vice Chancellor Pengra and others. A who's who of the great and powerful in Tarishitar. As they began to circle downwards, the bottoms of their faces opened impossibly wide, allowing for serrated mandibles and tubular tongues to emerge. They emitted a high keening sound as they descended, intent on feeding.

“Who said satire couldn't be deadly?”

Neither Eldritch was going anywhere. For every branch that they ripped off, another ten replaced them. Ramla couldn't even move anymore, and the thorns were digging into her skin. Small nicks of the skin but with her healing ability it was a constant cycle of healing and reopening the wounds. It was exhausting her body and the ability wasn't something she could turn off as it was a racial trait of theirs. Ramla looked up however when Nihr asked for Scrubble's aid, she grew anxious. Tugging on the brambles some more as the thorns dug deeper into her skin. 

A bad experience has left her distrusting of any Paladin, or any person who relied on faith to perform tasks and battles. So when Scrubble came to the rescue swinging his sword she immediately tried to hug the wall to stay as far away from the weapon as possible. His entire aura reeked of Holy magic and staring at him was like staring straight into a flashlight. Their eyes didn't work the same as humans so the effect was blinding to say the least. However his slashing did help with the brambles as they started to loosen, Ramla took the opportunity to move forward and leave this passage as soon as they could. 

However, their freedom didn't last long as the brambles returned. And it seems Scrubble focused his attention to a mirror? She tilted her head and asked Nihr, "Is he fighting his reflection?" Nihr confirmed her worries. She hummed and nodded at him. "Well…Now we know why he's so…special."  Neither of them were aware that the boy that traveled with them was talking to an entity, in fact they lost track of him because it seemed the brambles swallowed him whole. But then all of the sudden there was a burst of magic energy coming from where the boy was and the brambles simply 'flew' away. "Finally." Ramla muttered to herself as she looked up to watch the cloud disappear while wiped her clothes off of any remaining flies still lingering. She didn't know how this happened but she wasn't about to complain either. She saw how Mendean fell to the ground. She pushed past Nihr and Scrubble to help him up. Reaching out for him and gently pulling on his arm to help him up. But as she did she heard the heavy flapping of wings and a shrill sound. She looked up and saw the giant moths. Great, more insects she thought to herself.

While Nihr waited for Scrubble to finish swinging his sword, he just stood there looking around idly. It's like he was going anywhere and unlike Ramla he didn't freak out when the level of Holy magic rose in the little critter. Sure, he didn't like it either but it's not like Scrubble was the kind to turn against friends unless they gave them reason to. Or so he'd like to think. He looked over his shoulder, his purple gaze turning to Helanaii. Briefly admiring her womanly shape before asking, "You okay back the-" Nihr almost fell when the brambles were cut away, making the mistake of letting them carry his weight. 

The brambles no longer shielding Scrubble's shining beacon that was his faith in…uhm…Scrubble, Nihr squinted when the Goblin came back into view. Pulling his hood a bit further down. Nihr had just finished pulling off all the cut off brambles that were clinging to his arms and legs before they returned anew. "Oh for the love of…" He groaned in frustration. He looked at Ramla and followed her gaze when she asked him what Scrubble was doing. He was just as confused as she was… "I…think so." After a silent pause between the two he chuckled. " Well there's your reason why the Dream doesn't affect him." He said jokingly. 

When the group was FINALLY freed from the passage Nihr stretched himself, brushing off any remaining flies off his clothes and stepped out of the passage. Ignoring both Ramla and Mendean as he walked past them. He saw how the clearing was covered in thick sheets of cobwebs, the bodies hanging in cocoons. "Please, don't let it be spiders…" He whispered to himself. Looking up he spotted the giant moths with the humanoid faces. Faces he nor Ramla had ever seen but that didn't make it any less disturbing. "Okay…Not spiders, but still disturbing." He said right before one of those things tackled him to try and lift him into the sky to cocoon him.

The moth dragged him by the feet but Nihr was struggling so hard that the insect had trouble lifting him into the air. He tried to repeatedly kick the moth in hopes that it would let him go but instead it curled its lower body and began to spin him into a silk cocoon. As soon as Nihr realized what was happening he straightened himself to try and punch the moth in the face. "If anyone has a plan?! Please hurry up!?!"

Helanaii snapped out of her own partial place of lalaland when a male turned back to her, she flashed him a warm smile, which quickly turned to a light laugh when he became entangled in the sharp foliage again. "Watch your step!" It was evident that though her clothing may of have been torn, she had very few scrapes from an odd thick skin.

The lighter mood began to lift the fog a slight amount in her brain, though she winced and reacted when a flash of light practically blinded her. She quickly shielded her face to prevent any damage to her vision, but still had to blink a few times to return her eyes to normal.

Something was wrong. 

Helanaii froze up immediately and began to scent the air, a smell of death lay ahead of them. It made the hair on the back of her neck stand straight up. She remained still, keeping her senses strained ahead of them as her protective nature was slowly creeping over her body. It wasn't until the sound of struggling did she drop into a crouch and tense up, it was the voice of the same friendly man as earlier. Her green eyes almost seemed to glow with radiance, and she shot forth with an abnormal burst of speed. Four feathered wings with clawed hands instantly ripped through the back of her dress. Helan was still at the exit of the tiny cramped halls where her large span could not do any good, so instead she leaped up onto the wall, the talon hands kept her balance giving her time to push off the wall with another burst of speed. She jumped with her arms extended as a form overtook her. Her mind had cleared and focused just barely enough for the transformation to complete itself. In mid-air the body grew into a massive beast, her soft gentle fingers turned into savagely clawed paws, her hinds equipped with curving sickle claws. Her head turned reptilian with two long under-curving horns; a beast for battle. Being of the Guardian breed, she was prone to do exactly what she was designed to do even on impulse. It was instinctual, and defending was right up her alley.  

The open area was large enough to contain her mass, and she curved down to meet the ground with a shattering thud a short distance from the entangled man. The ground shook under her 7 ton body, only enough to blow the dust away. The animal lunged to the side with her thicker neck, extending downwards and enclosing her powerful jaws around the now much smaller insect creature, her beak only inches away from the man's face while snapping shut.

CRUNCH

Helanaii pulled back, releasing the pierced thing from her conical teeth as it leaked a displeasing black liquid over her jaws. When she turned her skull heavenwards, she took notice of other similar insects falling down upon them. In the cocoons all she smelled was the same insects or partially devoured flesh, nothing left to really save and if there was she was too dragon to care. It was obvious that one of her wings had been severely injured before this journey, leaving her unable to fly a very long distance, but it didn't stop her from swiveling around to swat them out of the air. After a few seconds of becoming littered with these biting insects, Helan froze. From deep within her chest cavity rumbled a hideous noise which traveled up her thinner skinned neck. The bites these fly-sized things were beginning to drive her insane. 

She craned her neck back, braced her body, spread her wings over the ground and the group, and exploded a powerful blast of blinding fire to shoot from her mouth into the sky. It seared anything in its path and left the satanic creatures to drop to the ground in heaps of charcoal and burning cadavers. The enormous beast continued this action until she slowly drew out of breath. When she ceased, the webs had melted and the moths, now had a nice crispy roasted smell. A deep snarly growl released while they continued to fall around her, twisting her skull to check that her little humans and… others.. were still safe beneath her wingspan.

A loud snort exhaled from her body, and she stepped back folding her wings neatly. She gave her loosely skinned body a good shake, throwing off the still burning insects that had bit into her sides. A few had actually impaled themselves on her spines. Now she blinked at them blankly like any appearingly dumb animal, sliding a long pink tongue over rows of black teeth waiting for orders or commands on what to do next.

Scrubble was falling quite fast now though the reflection seemed to be disappearing. Truly it must have feared Scrubbles holy might. As much as Scrubble wanted to celebrate another victory Scrubble couldn't as Scrubble was in midair which was not the greatest place for patting oneself on the back. Now Scrubble was committed and Scrubble would complete the holy journey that had been set before Scrubble. With shining blade in hand Scrubble prepared to fight whatever may come at Scrubble. When Scrubble hit the spot of the ravine that appeared to be reflecting everything it felt like passing through water.

Then pitch blackness Scrubble had appeared to have passed through some strange gateway. Now Scrubble was just falling seemingly infinitely the only light coming from the holy blade of Scrubble. Throughout this entire time Scrubble was still shouting Scrubble at the top of Scrubbles lungs. Scrubble was alone, actually that's a lie Scrubble was never alone as Scrubble always had Scrubble to help guide Scrubble in times of great turmoil. With unwavering faith in Scrubble Scrubble continued to fall for what seemed like forever. That was until Scrubble saw a small white dot in the distance. Truly this would be Scrubbles time to shine! So with one last bellowing cry of Scrubble Scrubble aimed for the white dot and knowing that Scrubble would keep Scrubble safe.

As the white dot grew larger and larger Scrubble could see the ravine that Scrubble had dived off of, but from above. When Scrubble finally arrived at the threshold between the darkness and the ravine it felt like smashing through glass. Scrubble was now diving towards a thin platform going at essentially terminal velocity the glass shattering that brought Scrubble back to Revaliir barely slowing Scrubble down. However Scrubble managed to hit some giant flying bug on the way down. Which helped slow down Scrubbles descent it also killed the moth instantly. As it seemed the trials of Scrubble were drawing to a close a dragon begin shooting fire up towards Scrubble.

It was soon after being bathed in fire that Scrubble hit the ground with a resounding thud. At this point the glowing of Scrubbles blade stopped as the spell had worn off. Scrubble had gotten off lucky only suffering from minor burns, breaking five ribs, spraining Scrubbles right ankle, and finally breaking Scrubbles shield arm which Scrubble had used to help lessen the impact. But Scrubble would not let such minor things as being gravely injured stop the holy quest of Scrubble. So Scrubble managed to just barely get up, hold out the holy blade of Scrubble and shout "Scrubble has returned onward holy adventurers of Scrubble". With that Scrubble began limping across the rest of the pass wanting to continue the holy task laid before Scrubble without delay.

Looking up, there were others rushing in past him, mostly ignoring him. It seemed being attacked by moths was something that really got the blood pumping in the hearts of these other mortals. He watched from his recumbent position for a while before rolling over, dusting himself off and standing up. The threat from above was not such a danger, especially now some kind of dragon had gotten involved. Giant fire-breathing lizards had a tendency to end conflicts somewhat rapidly, in his experience, so it came as no surprise when a number of flaming giant moths thudded to the ground around him. Casually, he sidestepped each one, before stopping to adjust the paths of those falling from the webbing with a subtle push of his mind, then cushioning their falls with that same power.

The god's head throbbed. He realised his vision was blurred. Rubbing the back of his head, he felt a slickness and his hand came away wet. He grunted, closing his eyes, moving cells around, straightening the skull plates, fusing them together with incantations whispered under his breath. The pain receded and the double-vision he had been experiencing returned to normal. It would not do to wander around in a state of concussion.

Wait. How had he hit the back of his head? Hadn't he fallen on his front? Checking behind him he saw a smouldering corpse of one of the moths, the human face now unrecognisable. One of the legs outstretched. Divine vision allowed him to detect traces of his blood on the end of that chitinous tip. He frowned. Clearly he had not evaded the plummeting bodies as well as he had believed. But how had he not noticed?

Once again his vision clouded and he felt nauseous. His skull still healing. That must have been quite a blow to block even the memory of it. If he were a mortal, he probably would be dying on the ground right now. The thought made him shiver as the pain receded. It seemed relying on his divine abilities was not such an assured thing as it might usually be. Concentrating on helping those who had been trapped in the webbing must have distracted him from the immediate danger. The effect of being in this dream vortex was clearly taking its toll on him.

And that vision had bothered him. Those eyes; that voice. So familiar. He had his suspicions, but did not dare to voice them, not even in his thoughts. What kind of warning was that? The Devourer? what kind of threat was this? He had only known one devourer before, but that fiend was dead. Were there others?

It was something for later. For the present he had a task to perform; to locate the source of this vortex and close it down. The others were useful as defenders, but would they be capable of helping him deal with what lay in the centre? Sending out his senses like invisible feelers, Mendean saw a gap in the wall. One of the many tunnels bored into the rocky walls of the subterranean ravines. Feeling a little better, he began to make his way across the clearing, taking extra care to avoid the enemy from above. Meanwhile, those freed from the moths' clutches made their way back in the direction from whence he and the others had come.

Nihr didn't have the time to react when the ground suddenly shook underneath. The moth blocking his view but not for long. Suddenly a set of massive and powerful jaws took its place, snapping shut and crushing the insect just inches away from his face. It made him shudder to think if he took the bug's place. When Helanaii pulled back he was stunned to see a dragon amongst their midst. How did this thing even get here?? He got distracted when Ramla got by his side, fussing over him. he noticed the worry in her eyes. Something he doesn't see very often. 

He grabbed her hand and pulled her into him as the dragon began to growl and roar. Extending her wings over them they both watched how Helanaii spewed forth flames. Nihr chuckled at Ramla's comment about their choice of companions. He looked up at the large beast and nodded in recognition and gratitude. He got up and dusted off his clothes before glancing around to see if the others were okay. At first side everyone looked fine so he turned to Ramla again, gently lifting her chin. Mostly to memorize what she looked like when she was worried about him. 

"Alright then, let's keep going. The amount of resistance we're getting means it shouldn't be very much further." with that he took Ramla by the hand and guided her as he followed Mendean through the gap of the wall.

Ramla froze and stared at the large beast with wide eyes. Stunned that the creature could even fit into this crevice that they were in. But when its jaws came close to Nihr she winced and let out a horrid scream. Clutching her hand to her chest she sighed in relief, when the beast did not chomp her master. Her knees trembling from the adrenaline and stress. This world and its inhabitants were going to be the death of her. Speaking of inhabitants, what happened to that girl that was straggling along, and the Goblin? Looking around she couldn't spot either of them right away, so instead she ran towards Nihr crouching down beside him and patting him across his body to make sure he was alright. 'Thank the gods." she said to herself more than him. Worry and relief was clearly written on her face, and Nihr saw this. 

She quickly wrapped her arms around him when he pulled her into him for protection. Curling up into his side when the dragon spread its wings, wondering if it was going to harm them or not. Ramla was briefly confused when Nihr forced her to look at him, but she quickly understood it. Emotions. He was still new to them, always fascinated by the concept of emotion. She didn't care much for his affections however, for various of reasons. Pulling her gaze away from his and bringing her chin back down. Right now she'd rather focus on the task at hand then being lovey-dovey with her master who's having a once-in-a-blue-moon, tender moment.

Ramla's gaze shot up when heat spread above them, flames bursting from the maw of the beast. "Why is it that we constantly attract the wrong people?! Bugs, Holy magic, now fire? This world wants us dead!!" She frowned and punched his sore arm when he laughed at her. "It's not funny! We could actually die here!" She looked up when he was ignoring her now, more interesting in the dragon than her. Squinting at the beast as she started to recognize something about it. Her. Helanaii. A pang of jealousy struck her unexpectedly. Giving the giantess a glare before following Nihr's lead again. Down the crevice they went for potential doom.

Entering the niche was like walking into a thick woollen blanket. Sounds from outside were suppressed and there was a claustrophobic sense of closeness in the dark that lay beyond. It took a moment for Mendean's eyes to adjust, but once they did he realised he was in a narrow corridor that had been cut into the rock with primitive tools. Running a hand along the wall he could feel every chip or nick in the smooth stone. As he became aware of the passage's dimensions, it had an organic feel about it. Old. Very old, from what he could tell. Every crack in the lozenge-shaped corridor seemed to leak memories from times long-past, before Tarishitar had been lifted into the vaults of the sky.


And now this, and other tunnels like it served as home to many of the dwellers. Still living the subterranean life, even though the true land lay far beneath them. Most would never see the surface, but they knew in their core. Walking carefully now, the god moved in the dark, following the sound of whispers up ahead.


The voices were human, but in multiple languages. Some harsh, others softer, others still were pleading. As he drew closer to a source of light up ahead, Mendean became aware that there were dozens of voices and growing in number as he approached. A wind pushed against him. Grey light ahead. Hundreds of voices, all whispering, maddening. Snatches of conversation. Half-formed anecdotes, like the whispered thoughts of a crowd, the sound building to a roaring crescendo. Wincing, he pushed himself against the whispers, as though they were a soft barrier forcing him back. Gritting his teeth, he placed his hands against the walls and pulled…


…himself into brilliant light.


The glare faded. Looking for the light source, he found none. Just an empty grey sky, a grey flat landscape that seemed to stretch on forever. Dull, rocky, little in the way of any features. Squinting as he peered into the sky, small black shapes circled far above. Crows.


In the distance, something caught his attention. A curtain, suspended seemingly from the air itself. A he approached, he could see it was a red velvet drape, about as wide as cottage and almost as high. When he walked around it, it stayed facing the same way. That came as no surprise to the deity. Clearly he was in a dream-like aspect of reality. The source lay behind the curtain, of that he was certain. It had its own rules. Rules he was bound into. He noticed two things. The whispers had died down and the curtain had a split in the centre. Taking a deep breath, Mendean reached out and pulled the split open, then stepped through.


A chessboard floor. Red velvet drapes on all sides except one. A black lacquered door covered in relief images depicting scenes from Tarishitan mythology. Walls plastered white and featureless. Mendean's eyes widened. He knew this place. The reliefs on the door were different, but every other feature was the same. If he pulled the drapes aside on the walls to the left and right, he would see two more doors. Bronze sconces would be holding unlit torches. Beyond that door would be a library. But how? How was this possible?


He had not noticed the child on the floor. Had she been there a moment ago? How long had he been standing here, staring at the walls? She was one of the gulley folk; a dweller, of that there was no doubt. Short and stocky, pallid skin, dark hair cut in a bob that ended at her chin. Clothes sewn from ragged patchwork materials, a brightly-coloured sash around her midriff. She could not have been more than ten, probably younger.


She was squatting in the centre of the room. A white tile broken diagonally. The triangle pulled away from the floor by tiny fingers to reveal ground beneath.


Except that as he approached, he saw paper. The girl had torn off multiple layers of the paper, laying them out before her in no particular order. Beneath each layer was more paper. Painted upon it in ink were letters he did not recognise. They were strangely familiar characters, but beyond his understanding. Something ancient. So ancient it made his stomach churn in response. As he tried to memorise each symbol, it appeared to look different each time his concentration lapsed, filling him with a great sense of unease.


Realising the god was standing over her, the girl looked up, showing no surprise. “My head hurts. Have you come to take the pain away?”


Staring back into those large dark brown eyes, Mendean knew for certain the child was the source of the vortex. What was worse, was that he had come here to kill her.