"Nah, they just be having too much to drink and the sight be a harsh one," the dockworker says with a glance over his shoulder at Daxniss. It sounds more like he is trying to convince himself that this is actually the case. "What be yer problem, ya deaf?" he puts a hand on the nearest ones shoulder. The kneeling man falls over wordlessly across the the brainless corpse. The man is dead, enough light coming from the a nearby torch to see that he is no longer breathing. His eyes are opening and completely white.
The sound of a wet clicking noise emanates from the crooked alleyway. The sound raises the fine hairs on the back of your next.
"Oh. S&*#." the worker looking at the alleyway. "Run. Run right now."
While its only 10 to 15 feet to the light of the street, the young girl feels like its miles away. Right after the dockworker speaks, Daxniss hears the man grunt. Turning her attention back to the man, she can see the back of his shirt rapidly blossoms red wetness.
"Oh, this is important to know. Magic is typically forbidden, as is the knowledge of reading and writing. Both will get you killed in one fashion or another," the Old Man cautions as they travel down the spiral stairs. The old man stops, and turns to look down at Wrathe. "I have a..., guest of sorts. Another lost urchin, this one I literally tripped over a few nights ago. It hasn't spoke since I found it, but it does seem to be intelligent, more than just an animal. It was disguised in filthy rags, which I had to use magic to clean, the smell was vile." The old man turns and continues down the damp stairs.
"I don't think that its dangerous, just scared. I figured I give you a fair warning," Wrathe can hear the grin in the Old Man's voice.
Before much longer they two reach a thick, iron-bound wooden door. The old man lays his palm flat upon the door for several seconds. Wrathe can hear a number of thick clunks as the door unlocks.
"Any questions?" the elder asks looking down at Wrathe.
Argon's fever rages, his dreams are bloody and violent, filled with terror and a sense of dread. Several times, he doesn't get away from the Clawed Monster and it slowly tears him apart. In one of the darker dreams, it is Argon that is the Clawed thing that does the slaying. Flaying the skin from his own bones was a mind twisting nightmare. Before long, Argon can feel himself sliding into an Abyss that there was no escape from.
Slowly, a warm light that pulses with it's own heartbeat intrudes upon his nightmares. The nightmares stubbornly try to fight off the warm light. It fairs as well as the night sky at dawn.