[Wayne W]

OOC: Good idea, actually... Hadn't though of that.

Location: Shrine of Vaernima

IC: With a roar of thunder, a small object fell from the sky, landing right in the chest of the mutilated corpse version of Sae-Kas. It was a relatively small, blue dagger, a golden eye carved in the middle. It seemed to glow with... unlight. It could only be seen by Sae-Kas himself. Its voice was loud and clear, but could only be heard by Sae-Kas. It was Vaernima. "You have been quick to overcome your fears, a first step in knowing yourself. This dagger will make the voices clear, and the desires silent. Retrieve it if you wish, and leave my realm- or choose to aid your allies in their quest."

[Tyrone Haywood]

Kelpriio watched as Sae-Kas overcame his fears. The corpses mirrored themselves. And, because of the sick games Vaerminia played, they resembled their worst fears.

And to think I was going to give him an offering... he thought with disdain. He walked toward his doppleganger and looked it in the eye. It had the dweamer arm he currently lacked, which was slightly demoralizing.

Was Kelpriio afraid? He would be lying if he said he wasn't. but did Kelpriio posses rational thought. He looked at himself. and then, faster than one could blink, it morphed into something else: A skeleton. the very same skeleton that cost him his arm. He also noticed he had both arms. Both REAL arms. The skeleton was armed with that rusty, iorn axe that had inspired so much fear in him those few years ago. But, in Kelpriio's hand, he too had an axe.

This is a test. Vaerminia wants me to succumb. No.

"Not this time!" He yelled as the skeleton raised his axe. With a furious swing, kelpriio hacked off the skeletons arm.

The skeleton roared in pain. it was the same cry he gave when he lost that arm. Suddenly, his arm severed, and fell to the ground next to the skeletons.His Dweamer arm replaced it, and the skeleton corpse slowly burned away...

[BlackaneseB]

Location: Shrine of Vaernima

IC: Kelpriio's Dwemer arm returned, but it seemed different also- it glowed with unlight and was made out of a bluish metal. A clear voice - a deep, male one, but still recognisable as Vaernima's - spoke. "This limb will channel the ancient Aetherial forces, and its finger will guide the way. Try it out if you wish, and leave my realm- or choose to aid your allies in their quest."

[kyle pinchen]

OOC: So... shall we ignore the orc attached to a helmet plummeting as he digs at it?

[Claire Mclaughlin]

OOC: So... shall we ignore the orc attached to a helmet plummeting as he digs at it?

OOC:no, it's just that the others can't see him and have probably been caught up in what they were doing.
Gore is fighting this thing, and he's probably the only one recklessly insane enough to take it down. If we were there, we'd probably just end up screwing with something.

"Vaermina" will just have to think of more things to happen to keep Gore's part going.

[NEGRO]

Kelpriio inspected the new arm of his. It seemed... stronger. no, it was made of the same material, and it could not be stronger. But... yes, thats it. It could channel magic.

Kelpriio's first impulse, his basic instinct, told him to flee when Vearmina gave him the choice. But, he knew he could not. This was a realm lackinglogic and inspiring fear. His comrades would need his intelligence to get out of here with their sanity.

Kelpriio took a deep breath, "I will stay, until the last of my comrades leave. But, when the last leaves, I shall leave with him... or her, whomever it may be."

[dean Cutler]

As soon as Sae-Kas killed his copy, thunder cracked in the sky, and a small blue dagger that seemed to glow fell on the corpse's chest. Vaermina spoke to him, telling him about the dagger, how if he took it, the voices would make sense, and he wouldn't go insane if he tried to ignore them.

He glanced around and saw that time seemed to stand still, waiting for his choice. He was sorely tempted to take the dagger and be out of the realm. In fact, his instincts were screaming at him to do it. But he couldn't just leave his new found friends here to face their fear by themselves.

He spent a few more moments mulling over his decision, before choosing. He looked toward the sky (and hopefully Vaermina) and said, "I will accept your gift, and I thank you for it. But I will stay here until the others have faced their fears.

"I will help with combat only, however. The fears they face can only be fought by them. I thank you again for your gift." He looked at the dagger resting on the corpse's chest.He reached down towards it and picked it up by the hilt with his un-gloved hand.

A surge of energy ran through him, accompanied by arcane whispers, which soon stopped. The dagger seemed to absorb into his skin, leaving a tattoo-like marking on his palm. It looked exactly like the dagger except much smaller.

In the physical world, the same mark appeared, though it gave no sign of it's presence. Instantly for Sae-Kas, Time resumed it's normal flow, though for the others, nothing had changed.

[He got the]

OOC:no, it's just that the others can't see him and have probably been caught up in what they were doing.
Gore is fighting this thing, and he's probably the only one recklessly insane enough to take it down. If we were there, we'd probably just end up screwing with something.

"Vaermina" will just have to think of more things to happen to keep Gore's part going.

OOC: I was actually TALKING to Gilboron... I know why everyone else is forgetting gore, because he's dumb like that...

[Britney Lopez]

OOC: The helmet has plummeted quite a while now- even if someone else would want to help you, they'd have to jump after the helmet.

Location: Quagmire

IC: As the piece of burning wood hit the head, Dusk twitched - luckily, this didn't make the wood hit her leg, but it did tear away the head in such a way her jeans finally gave in and ripped into two pieces. Dusk screamed - this scream was filled less with fear rather than embarrassment - and tried to cover her legs up.

In the real Shrine of Vaernima, the jeans of Dusk's channelling body ripped and fell to the ground. "Hmm... How amusing," noted Vaernima.

[David Chambers]

Raves grinned playfully at Dusk's embarrassed shriek. "Well, you were worried about getting the cuffs dirty," he teased. "Now you won't have to." He continued to telekinetically beat the bit of lumber into the head.

The Argonians seemed to be getting over their general terror, which was good. It seemed to be the point of this whole thing, anyway. Frankly, Raves didn't know why he was there. Nothing he'd encountered so far had unsettled him to the point of immobility. Either his part was to come, or Vaernima had a lost cause in him... because, so long as he had the ability to act upon it, he wasn't irrationally afraid of anything, and he was proud of that.

[Spooky Angel]

Location: Quagmire

IC: With an annoying svcking sound and a flash of lightning, everything disappeared (well, except for the visitors of course). There was nothing. Close to no sensory input, close to no possible output. A sound, like fingernails scraping across a board, was edible vaguely in the distance - with each moment, it became sharper and louder.

[Phillip Hamilton]

What the... Raves blinked as both lumber and severed head suddenly disappeared, and his Telekinesis scrabbled for purchase. He cut the spell, not wanting to waste magicka if he didn't have to.

He flinched at the unpleasant sound in the distance. "I didn't realize that Vaernima making the nasties disappear was an option," he joked, humor his tried-and-true coping mechanism. "If I had, I might have just asked." He glanced around at his other companions. He looked down, and could spot a little armored figure in the distance. He wondered if the Orc had beaten the helmet into submission... and belatedly wondered if he had survived it.

He groaned as the sound sent grating waves down his spine, idly rubbing at his sensitive elven ears. "Would someone tell the kids next door to knock off that racket?"

[Vahpie]

"Remember, this is just a dream. None of this is real..." He beckoned, but his voice seemed lost in the noise surronding him. It sounded like fingernails scraping a board... high pitched, annoying, possibly to the point of insanity.

Its a test of will... and I have no way of telling my friends...

[Lily]

When everything disappeared, Sae-Kas was utterly confused. He was about to say something when the sound started. the high pitched sound wasn't much to him, though. He'd endured worse with the voices. Bt he was the only one. Raves was the one who was really having difficulty, with his sensitive ears.

As the sound got louder, however, it became more of an annoyance. It got still louder, and he wondered what Vaermina was trying to prove with this. Obviously, it must be some sort of test. Well, whatever kind of test this is, we better figure it out soon.

OOC: sorry for the small post, didn't have much time

[JAY]

Location: Quagmire

IC: Small lights appeared, a great distance away. This would seem like a normal night's sky, if it were not that, somehow, one could feel the distance. more than a sixtilliard miles past what one could comprehend. A feeling of worthlessness soaked the mind, as one was confronted with the incredible scale of infinity - and the unimportance of the individual. A small, silver disk appeared, far away, speeding towards Dusk.

An eerie scream that pierced flesh and bone.

Blood.

In the real world, Dusk's hand was severed off brutally, releasing much more blood than one would think humanly possible into the shrine.

A single voice of all intonations and pitches spoke.

"This is no dream. This is mortality."


For Gore, the helmet had not disappeared, nor had his surroundings. Instead, the helmet fell through the ground it was supposed to crash on, into a realm of purple clouds and untouchable warped things of twisted unreality, as the helmet kept plummeting downwards...

[Philip Rua]

"What in Oblivion was that?!" Raves' spun to watch the disc as it retreated. Then, he turned to Dusk, his eyes going wide as he saw what had happened. "[censored]!"

His left hand delved into his pocket, fishing out a healing potion. It was too late to do anything about her hand--as far as he knew (and likely their Argonian friend would agree), no amount of healing could restore an amputated limb--but at least it would stop the bleeding. His right hand drew out a pair of throwing stars... but he was damned if he knew where to throw them. Somehow, he didn't think the disc would be entirely put out by a couple jagged little pieces of metal.

He thrust the potion at the Bosmer, eyes tracking their surroundings (or rather, lack thereof), in case the thing came back.

What did Vaermina mean, this wasn't a dream? They were asleep, weren't they? Raves destinctly remembered laying down and closing his eyes. This wasn't real. The corpses hadn't been real. The Telvanni helmet hadn't been real. Nothing here was real.

Except that Dusk's scream had been very real.

Raves began breathing quickly, to the point where he was nearly hyperventilating. It suddenly struck him that Vaermina had them at her mercy. She could do anything to them, and, even if the nightmarish objects doing it weren't real, the experience most certainly was.

Oh gods... could she actually kill them? Like, poof now-you're-dead, kill them?

He was hyperventilating now, and he took a step backward, even though there was nothing to back away from. The Dunmer had really played this entire thing the wrong way. He'd thought of it as some sort of game... a challenge, and he'd tackled it as one. It was a game... but it wasn't his; it was Vaermina's. He was nothing but a [censored]-ing card to her, to be dealt and discarded as his usefulness ran out.

He realized that he couldn't save Dusk--or anyone else--not if Vaermina really wanted to hurt her. He couldn't save himself, and, unlike other times when he'd found himself in scraqes, he couldn't beat the system. There were no tricks that Vaermina couldn't counter here, in her own realm. He'd never felt so... helpless.

Back in the shrine his lips were beginning to turn blue as he hyperventilated, his brows furrowed and his fingers twitching madly.

[meg knight]

OOC: I think I spotted a pun in your first sentence, BSparrow.

Location: Quagmire

IC: Dusk tried to catch the potion, but her reflexes used the hand that had just been chopped off, so she didn't manage to catch the bottle- but instead of it falling down, it kept moving with the exact same speed, in the exact same direction as Raves had thrown it. With one final gust of blood, the bleeding suddenly stopped. At least, it stopped bleeding blood. Now, it started to bleed kwama, as far as that was possible - the worm-like creatures seemed to be crawling out of her arm.

Finally, I have managed to find your weak spot, Raves, thought Vaernima, her thoughts not spreading into her realm unlike before. Now, succumb to it! Numerous more silver disks appeared, ambushing the party from all possible directions.

[Alexis Estrada]

ooc- I noticed that when I was typing it, too, Gilboron. Also, don't know if you meant to give my dunmer a full-blown epiphany like this, but it just sort of happened, and I had fun with it.

ic-

Raves caught sight of more silver discs materializing, heading for them, and his knees buckled. He fell to his knees on nothingness; he couldn't breathe... couldn't do much of anything as the insidious objects zoomed closer. He was going to die here.

He'd never before been forced to come to terms with his own mortality... not like this anyway. He was young. He was clever. He was resourceful. He wasn't supposed to have to worry about it. Sure, he'd gotten into the occasional scraqe with the guard, and there had been that little incident in the Telvanni District four years back... but it had all been easy cherries. He'd coasted through his occasional rough spots, living on adrenaline and never really considering that there could be consequences deeper than a couple nights spent in jail. Any insinuations to the contrary by peers had always been turned aside by a casual jest.

But there was no joke in this. What was he supposed to do against someone who had complete control over their lives?

He couldn't breathe, and his head spun from lack of air. And from fear.

He was afraid.

Strangely enough, that realization made him stop hyperventilating. He was afraid. In fact, he was terrified. He was going to die, and that terrified him. No bravado... no sarcastic remarks. For the first time in his life, he looked at himself and realized that he was a weak, insecure little thing, capable of failure. Under all the flashy showyness, and all the apparent self-confidence, he was afraid of a great many things. He was afraid of being helpless. He was afraid of being caught unprepared. He was afraid of not being good enough in the eyes of his parents. He was afraid of returning home because he knew he would be. He was afraid of showing vulnerability to others, because he was afraid of rejection. He was afraid, and always had been.

And that was okay, because it was part of who he was.

He took a deep, slow breath, his dizzyness subsiding. He was still on his knees, but he was no longer paralyzed. He was afraid of dying, and there was nothing he could do to stave it off... but that didn't mean he had to make it easy for Vaermina. Because, even if he was helpless, that didn't mean he couldn't have hope. The thought was cheesy, true, but it gave him heart.

With resolution written all over his face, he looked up from where he knelt, intent to dodge the incoming discs. However, his revelations, however brief, had taken too long. The discs were on them, and he had no time to react.

[Killer McCracken]

The helmet plummeted into the ground, and Gore roared satisfaction as he prepared for the inevitable crash.

But it never came. The ground rushed on, the helmet through, and into Darkness. Gore remained upon it, now moving through a dark realm, clouds of eerie purple light around him. Gore's jaw dropped as those smokey clouds began to take shapes around him. Three of them moved onto the helmet, which had tilted now to level off like some sort of arena. The three clouds became men, clad in Bretonic Knight armor. Gore snapped his jaw shut at the sight of them. They were all too familiar.

Bretonic Battlemages. The kind that slew his father from across the battlefield. Gore charged, his axes whipping out to take two of the men in the stomach. However, the men burst into brilliant violet clouds, to rush together and form a Daedroth behind Gore as he charged the third mage and fell through a cloud of purple, hitting the helmet and rolling to his feet.

"MAGIC! GORE HATE MAGIC!" He seemed to lose all comprehensible control of himself as an uncanny mixture of fear and anger roiled inside him, bursting from his lips in spittle and scream. Magic. Magic. Magic killed father. Father was strong. Father never die. Gore have to kill magic before magic kill Gore. Have to find mage. Mage responsible for magic illusion. Have to kill mage. He knew one thing about fighting magic; somewhere there was a mage at fault, and the horrors ended with that man's death.

The Daedroth snapped its jaws back at Gore, and the Orc charged forward, jumping into the air and bringing both axes down. Cleaving the snout in two the beast dissipated into violet clouds, Gore landing on both feet where his opponent once stood. "Where mage?! Gore kill mage!"

[Connie Thomas]

Location: Quagmire

IC: With a horrible sound the disks pierced their way right through Raves, only to fall down, clattering on an invisible ground. "NO!" screamed Dusk, running towards Raves' remains. "No..." She grabbed Raves' head, sobbing. A few feet behind her, a ghastly form of herself appeared. It was Vaernima. "Why... WHY HAVE YOU DONE THIS?" screamed Dusk. "Look at him, Soul's Burden." "WHY?" "LOOK AT HIM!"

Vaernima lifted a hand and Dusk's face turned towards Raves' head. And, suddenly, she noticed something- something about his nose, and his eyebrows. Shaking, she took Fyrgos' picture out of her pocket, and held it next to Raves' head. "I... I never knew... never realised... they looked so alike..."

"You have a fear deep in you. A fear even beyond my grasp, as I once before thought. A fear you can not come to grips with simply by wandering in my sphere."

"But why? Why did I need to participate in this test, when no weapons are for me to receive?" "Because you already have that weapon, Beichia Chan Eneidiau." Vaernima held out a hand, and touched Dusk's chest, somewhere along the height of her heart. "And it is here. Henceforth, the name you carry will be Yn Bendithia." Tears rolling down her cheeks, Dusk looked back to Raves, only to realise he was no longer a shredded heap of flesh, but alive and whole again. "Raves!"

As soon as his eyes opened, Dusk hugged him firmly and gave him a kiss. "Raves..."

[Taylah Illies]

Raves opened his eyes and blinked mutely, for a moment wondering if this was what it felt like to be dead. He was certain he had to be, since he'd just felt himself being severed into many bits. But then a tearful Dusk was there, holding him and... kissing... him, and he was left blinking mutely for an entirely different reason. A new warmth ran through the Dunmer, assuring him that he was most definitely alive.

He could have said one of many different things at the moment. Sarcastic remarks, or something to make light of the situation. Instead, he just hugged her back.

[Carlos Rojas]

Location: Quagmire

IC: The silver disks, who had been lying there silently for quite a few moments now, stirred for a second, then started glowing with unlight. A voice spoke - it sounded like Dusk's, but it was, as a distant ring told the listener, Vaernima's. "Not only have you faced, but accepted your fears. Accept these as a reward - they will now be your friends instead of enemies. No poison or enchantment will, can or needs to be used on them - and nor do they need to be reforged, as they return always to their master. Retrieve them if you wish, and leave my realm- or choose to aid your allies in their quest."

In wherever Gore was, the purple clouds turned red as they assaulted Gore. They twisted around him, and then, in an array of colours and shapes, stopped. "Do not fear magic." This was not Vaernima's voice. It was an Orcish one, and from the clouds, clad in armour, came an Orc. "It is what lead to my death, Gorsong, son."

OOC: If you do not like this turn of events, I can still edit it out, FC4. I have no idea what kind of person Gore's father was like, so :shrug:

[Sharra Llenos]

"Do not fear magic." Barked a harsh voice, deep and throaty, and it made Gore pause, eyes widening. "It is what led to my death, Gorsong." At the other end of the helmet runway stood an Orc of average size, clad from head to toe in Orcish armor, with a tribal steel battleaxe resting in front of him. The mask of the orcish helm (morrowind, not that pissy Oblivion helm) looked just like he remembered his father's being. A snarling, battle-raging face, ready to kill and ready to die for his people.

"Magic is what killed me, what melted the helm and arms of the Hal'kek line so that you could never wear them." As the Orc spoke Gorsong Hal'kek felt worse than fear; he felt hopeless sorrow. His father had been murdered by a battlemage spell, the fire melting his body in place. It had destroyed the warrior's helm and shield, two pieces of one's armor that were revered and passed down generations. Each Orcish family had a different face upon their helm mask a different design of metal upon their shield. Gore had been denied his heritage by the mage, denied his father by the mage, denied his name by the mage. It was why he called himself Gore, and not Gorsong. He could never be Gorsong Hal'kek again, for the family line and its traditions had died that day.

"Do not fear magic, Gorsong. It brought the ruin of the Hal'kek, but it can do other things as well."

"Gore like feel-good magic." Gore replied, his voice soft. "Gore like feel-good magic; it make Gore feel good. Other magic hurt or hinder Gore." He explained in a disjointed way, and the father Orc simply nodded, as if he understood completely.

"Good! But there are other magics, Gorsong, that help too. But you must not fear it."

"Magic does weird things to world. Gore can't stop weird things magic does. Gore powerless against magic, but he not powerless against mage. Gore not fear magic user... Gore fear magic. Gore hate magic-men. Gore kill them, make magic go away." He said this slowly, before rising one axe towards the Orc in front of him.

"Gore knows Hurtung Hal'kek is dead. Gore knows magic makes you, and you pretend to be Hurtung. Gore no like trickery. Gore hate magic. Gore stop you, find magic-man and kill magic-man! Then Magic go away, and Gore have power again!" His voice rose with every word, and then he charged towards the figure of his father.

[Bonnie Clyde]

Location: Quagmire

IC: As soon as the axe hit the armour, the purple clouds disappeared. The armour was unscathed, but the Orc that was once in it was gone. A voice sounded- once again, it sounded like Gore's father, but this time, it was Vaernima. "Though this armour is not your reward for facing your fears, it is my gift to you. Your heritage. Your reward is this axe." The tribal steel battleaxe started glowing with unlight. "Retrieve it if you wish and leave this realm, or search for your friends and help them in their quest."

[Vivien]

Raves (somewhat reluctantly) pulled away from Dusk and stood. He patted himself down, still amazed to find himself in one piece. He wondered, though, whether if he removed his jacket, he'd see scars.

Then, he walked cautiously toward the discs, and knelt down next to a pile. Wariness gave way to awe as he ran his hand over one of them. It was smooth and cool to the touch, and his fingertips tingled with Daedric magic as he ran it over the surface. It was made of shimmering silver, and was perfectly smooth but for a ring of small divets an inch from the edge, likely meant for gripping. The discs were larger than his typical throwing stars (about the size of his hand), and had no serrations along the edges. However, they were stunningly sharp, to the point where Raves wondered whether he'd be able to hold them without cutting his hand.

Then again, it seemed that he should trust that Vaermina knew what she was doing. It was the least he could do to give her the benefit of the doubt. He owed her. For a couple things. "You know, you're not so bad after all," he said to her, almost fondly. "I'd like to stick around, though, to help the others out."

Belatedly, he glanced around, and noticed for the first time that the Argonians were both sporting new artifacts. "...if there is someone still in need of help," he finished, his expression morphing from shock to wry amusemant. "Wow. I came late to the party, didn't I?"

Smiling and shaking his head in disbelief at himself, he gathered up the discs, numbering eight in all. They fit perfectly well into a pocket on the inside of his jacket... right over his heart. If that wasn't symbolic, he didn't know what was.