Green Glass Door

[Niethan]

A single sharp snapping sound, and darkness swallowed the smirking warlock's face, the silvery blue glow of a new Shard in his hand following him/them down and out and deep. In the Rest Inn Peace tavern, Niethan's body slumped over the warlock Zargoth, breathing but brain flatlined and soul gone. Dead weight.

Elsewhere, the three of him lost their hold on one another, and fell away on the invisible currants so long kept at bay behind the green glass door.










((This is open and welcome to additions from those who wish to do so- there are several people involved here and I would love to have their input.))

[Niethan]

[Witness]

The Maze of Iron walked on forever.

Every time Witness felt he was making some small progress, the Maze decided otherwise. Doors shut in his face, traps fell away just beneath him, or walls moved to force his path. He would walk up a set of stairs only to find himself on the celing of the previous room, or worse, come to a section of Maze that had abandoned walls in favor of grinding gears and oilsmoke. When he wasn't cursing the Maze, Witnesss fumed at his inexperience with physical motion. He wasn't tired, but... missing a jump and falling down into another room is only amusing the first few times.

After this last unexpected drop, Witness picked himself up off the metal floor and walked over to a wall, leaning against it, considering his options. Deplorably few. He could try and finish the Maze, or...he could try and finish the Maze. He was sure there should be more options than that. He cursed his lack of imagination. Why couldn't he have been closer to the creative centers in Niethan's mind? Why?!

Witness sighed and made a 'tch' sound in his throat, tapping his fingers against the wall and half expecting it to move away from him out of spite. It didn't, to his apathetic surprise. Witness glanced around the room, lost in thought. His gaze settled on a brazier full of flame, occasional drips of motlten steel plunking down into the basin beneath it. He wondered what it was burning.

"..."

Witness stared at it, willing himself to concentrate. There was something important about fire, he knew there was. This was a dream...who dreamt of fire? Witness narrowed his eyes, half in anger half in triumph. Sulajin Bloodbreaze was a mage who had bound his soul to a fire elemental called T'lhn. He had also endangered Niethan and angered Witness one too many times, so Witness had seen fit to knit a scarf out of scraps of Niethan's excess mana. He'd then tied that scarf to Bloodbreaze's connection to the Emerald Dream, and summarily tossed the other end into the Nightmare. Bloodbreaze had been deteriorating ever since, but the scarf...

Witness fairly ran to the brazier and peered into it, his mind franticly putting things together to make this work. He focused on Bloodbreaze, then reared back and plunged his hand into the fire, searching for an errant strand.

He found one. Ignoring the pain in his hand, he tugged on it, calling out to the mage he hated and now needed.

[Chavie]

((interesting!))

[Rajjah]

((nicely done))

[Niethan]

[Niethan]

Over the river and through the woods. Isn’t that the way the story goes? But the woods were lovely dark and deep, and river kept trying to be a stream and downs instead of a meadow. Flowers were blooming on the water and birds were darting just beneath the surface, and the only sound was the shif-shif-shif of two-toed feet on the path of silver sand. Niethan kept walking.

The path wound away before and back, and Niethan couldn’t think of where it might be going. It was odd that a single sandbank managed to make a path on the shallow ocean (was it shallow? It looked less than two feet deep, but he would swear he saw something dark diving down and out) and a silver one besides, but the troll had long since accepted that things are how they will be. As he watched, a fisher crane shot out of the water, snagged a minnow in its beak, and awkwardly swam back down into the waves. Niethan kept walking.

The path was winding closer to the trees growing on the water. Niethan wasn’t sure if he wanted it to do so; the woods were lovely, verdant and thick with sunlight dapples in the shade, and yet…

And yet, he knew he was lost. And didn’t a path have to go somewhere? Even if it was nowhere. Yes, it was best to stay on the path. Niethan kept walking.

Over the river and through the woods.