There is a puff of dust as Gabriel dodges whatever it was the Night Carrion spewed at the group. He then appears next to the foe, fists and feet a blur as he strikes out.
Kallik and the Thrice-Slain are hit full-on by the blast; the blackness lingers in their eyes. Abnaki seems to be talking to himself, "I am Abnaki, not you...me, not me...you..." while Kallik's mouth is wide in a silent scream.
Samen winces as he is returned darkness for light, but continues the assault.
Gabriel, you notice that the onyx energy is spreading across Kallik and Abnaki's faces; they can no longer yell as their mouths are covered.
You see the tarry fear-energy has paralyzed your two friends in place, preventing them from taking even the smallest of movements or thoughts.
Oddly, the Carrion simply watches the black energy writhe across his two victims. It takes no other actions.
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Samen keeps focus on the Carrion. "No, you can't have them either. Individually, you'd likely have overcome any of us, but together we are stronger than you. You had your chance to discuss this civilly and to leave in peace. This will not go the way you expect it to. They are not suitable hosts."
Samen holds tight to his rod of persistence and casts Unadulterated Loathing on the creature, making its potential new hosts odious in its sight.
You feel your artificial loathing sluice off the Carrion; as it shrugs off your spell, it looks at you with one eye socket, then the other, considering you from all sides with empty observation.
Its hands twitch suddenly, long-fingered and limber, and two shouts happen simultaneously: Abnaki yells in pain, then slumps down, silent; Kallik yells in rage, and starts barreling toward Samen, her eyes still clouded by black fear.
The Carrion sways slightly. Its wounds are beginning to wear on it.
Samen's spell gave his friends a chance to shake off the effects, but only Kallik is successful. As she completes her swing at Samen, she visible throws the effect away, blinks, and apologizes for her weakness.
Abnaki has not shaken off the fear energy, and he seems to be in peril. Abnaki is familiar enough with death, but he is not dead yet.
Gabe lashes out as the Carrion ignores his presence to charge as the more existential threat that is Samen.
Frustration sets in as the blow is not landed with full force. Determined not to let the beast escape, Gabe gives chase.
With a deep sound like the groan of felled tree, the Night Carrion cracks, bends, and breaks apart. Ripped feathers and bone dust are all that remains.
Abnaki's body twitches as the fear-energy seeks to burrow deeper into his eyes and nostrils.
"Abnaki. Be released from this grasp of terror. Whimsy is a much better look on you."
Not entirely sure how he can help Abnaki resist the fear-energy, Gabe finds his hand has drifted to the worry stone in one of his pouches. He begins pacing as Samen projects external calm to foil the possession.
Thanks to Samen's spell, the fear-infection is halted. Abnaki begins breathing again, but he does not awake from his trouble half-sleep. Instead he mutters, "Take me to my domain...I can...heal myself..."
He rubs fingertips and thumb together, mimicking Gabriel's motion, and a fine purple mist leaks from the worrystone. Abnaki smiles with just a trace of whimsy as the purple mist goes floating down a swampy trail, into the distance.
Kallik, half-real in this plane of half-truths, picks up Abnaki in her arms. It's hardly a burden, the bard seemingly made of flowers and quips and little else. She waits for Samen or Gabriel to lead the way.
Gabe looks around, attempting to detect any subterfuge that their enemy isn't as defeated as it seems. Satisfied that there isn't anything to be found, he leads the way down the misty trail.
The trip is easy, now that the oppressive presence of the Night Carrion is gone. Like a story, you go over the river and through the woods...Gabriel follows the purple mist with his acute sight, never once losing the trail.
A quarter-candle later, you come to a castle made of pink and purple cotton candy. Giant squirrels guard the entrances with acorn-tipped spears. The occasional gaudy jewel is sewn into the sugary walls here and there, which gives you the odd feeling of being watched.
You are ushered in, of course, with utmost squirrled courtesy. I sit upon the Uncertain Throne, which is currently made of gray stone and feeling very uncomfortable. To you, I look like Abnaki-- if he had missed one hundred nights of rest and lost most of his humor.
I, Abnaki Once-Dreamt, gaze down at the Thrice-Slain. Bored-amused, I say, "So, him dying again and brought him you here? Appropriate and inconvenient, both." I make no move to greet any of you formally, for now.
"That pretty much describes the entire existence of Abnaki, doesn't it? On balance, thus far, he's been worth the effort to maintain. If I had to guess, your existence is tied to his. Do you know what will become of you if he perishes? Because I have no idea, and I'd rather not find out what would take your place."
"He's not dead you know. He was still breathing last we checked... At least the dream representation of him was. This is getting a bit confusing."
Content to let the two greater minds debate the nuances of Abnaki's existence, Gabe instead looks for anything this strangely hostile (at least not friendly) version of Abnaki might be preparing.
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Qizz is now curled in the middle with their limbs stretched out to keep in contact with the others. Shifting a pillow or stray hair. Fidgeting and worrying in the quiet unknown.
Looking at the fey in her arms and the figure in on that throne in clear confusion. But the others seem to have some idea of what is going on so she simply stands there holding Abnaki for as long as he requires it.
Content to let the two greater minds debate the nuances of Abnaki's existence, Gabe instead looks for anything this strangely hostile (at least not friendly) version of Abnaki might be preparing.
"Perhaps a feast?" I say cryptically.
Qizz is now curled in the middle with their limbs stretched out to keep in contact with the others. Shifting a pillow or stray hair. Fidgeting and worrying in the quiet unknown.
Qizz, out in the land of the real, a crow lands several feet away from you and your companions. It stares at you, observing the scene with tiny motions of its head.
Yer waiter's me, I guess. I write down nothin' on nothin' cos this is a dream, and I don't give a volc. The Once-Dreamt dismisses me, so I walk away. See ya later, bird.
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Gabe pushes his paranoia aside as nothing jumps out to attack them. "This might be Abnaki's mind and you might be an aspect thereof... but how does that help us get this Abnaki back on his feet? We still have a mad god to confront after all." What better weapon for that than our own mad godling...
"A dream feast? It would help pass the time I suppose. Does Ozhna here only exist in this dream world now? I remember him being a living breathing el no that long ago."
I sigh deeply. The throne is glass now; smooth, still uncomfortable, and basically impossible to see. "Elen obsession with naming things is the root of so much of your trouble. What's the use of labeling this 'dream' and this 'real'? If it feels real, it must be close enough to real as to make no difference."
I give one small gesture, placing my palm up in offering. Before you, there is suddenly a modest meal of chicken, ham, bread and cheese, and strong-smelling mead. There are also ghostly rocks for Kallik. And a sarcastically small portion of birdseed for Osna.
Nothing for the Thrice-Slain.
Kallik tries her best to keep anger out of her voice. She bites her tongue hard enough to bleed as she says in a mostly-calm voice, "Help him or not. Please tell us what you're going to do. Stop saying things that don't mean anything."
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"We have no need of sustenance in this dream state, and taking food from Fey folk under unknown conditions is always foolish. Your hospitality is appreciated, but Kallik is right, either help him or we'll end him. He's too much of a threat to leave in this liminal state."
Gabriel heeds Samen's advice even as he starts reaching for the food though he doesn't take any. This other Abnaki is confusing so he's grateful for another person to focus on if only for a moment.
"Names are important though, aren't they? How do we designate things if we don't know the name of it? There is one name in particular that I think would get to the thick of things, though I'm hesitant to bring her up. It may be a sore subject for any Abnaki."
I smile. "I rather like him this way." I chuckle warmly to show no offense was meant. No reactions. Hmm.
"As for the name you, little Sneakthief, are thinking of naming to a name best not named....I don't think your Abnaki would like it very much." I give an elegant shrug. Throne of peacock feathers now.
Still no reactions. No one wishes to have polite conversation these days. "Very well. You want Mister Sleepyhead to wake up? How about a rude awakening. No love for polite conversation, I say..."
Still grumbling, I pluck a spell from the Samen-looking one, and a little bit of focus from the Gabriel-looking fellow. I shout very loudly, piercing and shrieky as a very unhappy banshee. It sounds like a long morning hangover condensed into one awful screech.
Gabe is temporarily off balance as his focus is forcefully pulled from his mind... and the sudden burst of peacock feathers. "I know you don't care for names, it seems you don't care about permission either... I'm sure we would have given freely what you have taken had you asked." Waving off the frustration like swatting flies, he continues, "It's done now though, Abnaki... Thrice (Frice?) Slain, are you back with us now? No worse for wear I hope."
Samen simply glares at the two Abnakis. He would've gladly used the spell if asked, but it seems petty to be petulant about it. Nevertheless, this creature of ambiguity is nearly as annoying as the fear bird.