Strange Aeons

Game Master YoLlama

Alteration: Ultraviolet Shift.

If she couldn't find them in the immediate area she would draw her weapon and try to find a defend able position within the room.

Saturday follows into the church, where the pews are full of towns people and the warriors who sit at the front, lines of soldiers of the faiths singing an anthem of the triumph of Iomedae over the daemons from the Worldwound. The banners of the soldiers line the sides of the church, hanging colours of white and red crosses, of green and black dragons, yellow snakes on a black background, a burst of colour in the grey world that Saturday inhabits. From behind the preacher, a woman wearing simple white robes covered with a golden swords motif, leads the singing, standing behind a lectern on which a grand gold and leather bound book sits. The choir behind, their voices singing with the tones of angels praise the gods, giving glory to Iomedae for the victories over evil.

Saturday stows his weapons away and following directions from the ushers, is given a place on the front row. He looks and sees an almost perfect face of the woman preacher, her golden hair framing her pale face, her sparkling blue eyes shining out love and her rosey cheeks and red lips speak of compassion. Saturday sits entranced, joining the joy of the service, until he and the congregation sit and give their full attention to the preacher as she speaks the words from the golden book.

It is minutes into the sermon, when Saturday first notices that the lectern is in the shape of a talon, a large birds claw, holding the book. It is the first indication that not all is as it seems. Saturday blinks as his attention is transferred to the silver and golden claw, it seems to move, almost as though the claw is tightening on the tome. The preacher, her voice clear and serene, doesn't seem to notice the imperceptible changes. Even as the gold and silver seem to flake off from the claw, revealing a strong black talon underneath. Still the cleric continues on unconcerned. Saturday feels a mild panic welling in his body, he looks around the rest of the church, the banners still hang, though their colours seem to have darkened, the brightness and liveliness of the different hues look lacklustre and dead. Maybe it is just the passing of the sun behind a cloud, that could be it. The warriors of the faith that sit alongside Saturday carry on their attentive listening to the woman, entranced by her words not seeing the changes.

Saturday looks forward once again, he sees the glitter from the lectern is gone. As the panic takes hold, no longer is the talon inanimate, but now it seems to pulse with life, sharp, sharp claw like points at the end of the talon drip red, red blood as the holy book is being crushed by the powerful pincer. The book, its title showing, The 11 Miricles of Iomedae, bleeds, as though it too is a living text. Saturday stands, his throat dry, wanting to call out and warn the young preacher of the changing lectern, but still she carries on, as though nothing has changed. Saturday feels the words strangled in his throat, he looks around, surely someone must see what he sees. Yet the warriors and the congregation notice nothing untoward, their attention given fully to the woman standing at the lectern and projecting her sermon to those who can hear.

Returning his gaze to the young woman, she continues her holy homily, but despite her words and demeanour, a red stain appears in the centre of her white robe, spherical and growing. Behind her, Saturday catches sight of movement, a black hairy head, not human, an ape. Its size growing, exuding evil, fear. Saturday, his lips dry and parched move as he shouts a warning, but no sound is heard. Instead the ape just gets larger, in its hand a club as the preacher in white falls forward on her knees, a look of agony now in her eyes, she clutches her stomach the centre of the growing bloody mark. Saturday looks around the church for help, but the army of warriors is gone, the congregation and banners vanished. Saturday is alone in the darkening church. Unable to protect her, Saturday watches in horror as the ape grows in stature, the book is squeezed to a bloody pulp and the pleading eyes of Iomedae's maiden cannot be saved from the giant club that even now is raised to end her life.

And in Saturday's head all that he hears is "Revenge is mine."

Saturday wakes with a start, his body sweating, in the dark he can make out the shadows of his friends and the boilers.

As Regina establishes a connection to the magic of the ether, she sees a strand of magic leading out of the room. It is almost as if its a shadow of the magic powers of Era, a trace to follow, if Regina is that brave. To stay here alone or find her companions, or any that live.Maybe it's not such a difficult choice. With her new resolve Regina packs her bags with all she might need and gingerly leaves the safety of the boiler room. Outside, it is as it was yesterday, footsteps that echo down the corridor, a barricade at one end, behind which men who would kill her as much as look at her. She thinks back, There's no way I could take my way in, they are so afraid of infiltrators, of the shapeshifters that killing a stranger is a given defence. Down the corridor again.

Regina starts down the corridor, looking into the storage rooms she finds nothing, not even the body of the shapeshifter they killed yesterday. He heart races at the implications and the increased danger she now finds herself in, Can I trust any of those I see, even my companions. As she looks around the storage rooms, she notices the mists once more cling to the floor and walls, giving all a yellowish tinge, and making the edges of shapes obscure and blurry. Still the purple cord that hangs in the ether, remains outside, leading her further into the building. She stops as she reenters the corridor, her ears listening for any sounds, but the deathly still remains, except maybe she heard something move, the sound of something rolling over the floor. She keeps still, the blood pulsing through her body, can she hear her own heartbeat? Everything is still, she tries to relax, taking a few deep breaths, but then there is the sound of something being dragged into place. Her heart races, is Regina brave enough for this, or does she run, but there is nowhere to run.

Slowly and carefully, her back to the wall, she edges up along the corridor. The yellow mists, clammy and wet, lap around her body, yet still the purple ether strand leads the way. She brings her hands up ready to manipulate the ether and use it to defend herself, but her hands are like the mists, wet and clammy. But she must press on, one step at a time, left foot forward, right foot forward, her back still pressed against the wall. And wall ends up ahead, just 5 more steps and she will see round the corner, it is where the ether leads her.

Just one more step now, to see where the magic of the ether leads. She stops, her breast rising and falling with each breath, shallow though they are, a feeling of panic welling up inside her, as she remembers the nurse, the one from yesterday that nearly took Era's life. It would not happen again, of that she is sure. Regina calls on the magics of the ether, her hands glowing with her power ready to unleash against her enemies.

Regina, takes the step to look around the corner, as the light from a flickering candle illuminates another pile of bodies. Another revolting sight, yet even as she looks at the putrid pink corpses, the pile moves, a dirty hand is raised to up, two pin pricks of eyes glint towards her. Regina knows what she must do, she lets loose all the power of the ether, sending shards of glittering glass daggers, with the speed to kill all within their path and bury themselves deep in the pile of flesh before her. To rid herself of the fear, the panic, the shapeshifters. Even as the deadly shards travel towards the pile of bodies, as if in slow motion, Regina, Era, Lady Quinn and Saturday rise from the pile, and as one say, "Help us Regina, save us from the ....." Their words are abruptly ended as the Regina's shards tear though their bodies, cutting them down where they stand. From out of the darkness, Regina hears a laughter, as she turns to run ....

Regina raises her head from the pillow in the boiler room, her hair matted and sticky with sweat, her pulse racing. She blinks, open mouthed as she sees the forms of her companions with her ...

Jac's lips begin to blister and her lungs start to burn, the mist appears to be poisonous, to attack her body. She gasps for breath, yet doesn't want breath in the viscous air. Jac starts to run, anywhere, just away from the destructive mists. Stumbling through, the mists become thinner and she is able to breath again, yet still the blisters on her lips and down her throat mean she cannot speak, cannot shout out a warning or call for help. Jac gets control of her mind again, deciding to find a way out of this dream.

Jac wanders in an endless cloud of yellow vapor. Other shapes form and vanish in the mist, fleeting, unsettling things that refuse to be focused upon. After what seems like a lifetime, an exhausted-looking man with a ponytail of straight, white hair stumbles through the fog. He’s insane with desperation. He looks behind him, as though there is something chasing him. He inadvertently bumps into Jac, as she appears out of the mist. He gapes and shouts, “We’re all lost here! We’ll never escape!” and rushes away. Even as he goes, disappearing into the mysterious fog. Even as his body is enveloped, his ranting continues, “What have I done? What have I done?” Jac is alone again, she tries to call back but the pain in her throat and mouth stop the words and sounds from leaving her lips.

Jac wonders about the man with the white hair, was he related to her or is this just a coincidence.

The mists lift, Jac finds herself laying down in the boiler room in the company of her new found friends, her throat sore and lips sensitive to touch.

Despite her reservations, she strides across to the humanoid in long dark flowing robes, with a hood covering the head and pulled down obscuring the face. A deep throated human male voice speaks from within the black shadow of the hood. "Glad you could make it..."

... to be continued ...