So close...

[Broxigan]

The weeks slowly crept along as the patience thinning orc dealt with the constant jabbering of the voices within his head. During this time, he had done quite a bit of research, learning more about psychological conditions, schizophrenia and the possible external causes. Stuffed within his crude pouch were more books, notes, writings, parchments, scribblings and quills than he would usually carry with him.

The center of his investigations was the once asylum now known as Melar Danashj. Brox had met with Evanthe and Skafloc on separate occasions concerning the history and dirty past of this place. The more he learned, the more uneasy he felt. The voices also seemed to have much distaste with the orc learning more about this place.

Regardless of the pain he felt, Brox continued with what he felt was the correct path. Something was telling him the answers may lie within the castle. His illness, may in fact, have something to do with the ex-asylum. In any case, Brox made sure to stay away from the castle as much as possible, sleeping in a different spot every night.

Tonight was no different. Brox had made himself as much at home as possible within the inn in Shadowmoon Village. Sitting with his back against a wall on the second floor; parchment, scrolls, quills, vials of ink, and a few books create a perfect barrier around him. His attention at the moment directed at a piece of parchment on his lap.

"Hm..." Brox mused to himself as he stared at the ink covered piece of paper. He made various markings on the parchment as he read, his brow furrowing the further down the page he went. "That cannot be right..."

He pushed a few books around then picked up a particular scroll, unravelling it and laying it out upon the floor in front of him so he could see it. "Exposed...mind.." he whispered lowly to himself as he scribbled more on the parchment on his lap.

"Broxy dear, you are wasting your time. There is no point in trying to figure any of this out. We are you. There is nothing more to it."

"Says you," Brox grunted lowly. Letting out a long, deep sigh, he pushed the items out of his lap and lean his head back against the wall behind him, closing his eyes. "Exposed mind," he repeated to himself as he ran a calloused hand across his face.

His face softened a bit as he began to think back to when he was younger, remembering the joys of having no worries. A vision of the Matron and an old shaman filled his head. A slight smirk plays across his face as he mumbles to himself, "I should have taken up the Shaman path instead of fooling around with...it..hm."

His body lurched forward as he furrowed his brow once again, thinking deeply to himself. "Fooling around with it. An amateur," he thought to himself. "Exposed mind. I often...tried to connect with the ancestors..." Brox brought a hand to his chin, one finger lightly tapping at his jaw. "Restless souls...tormented. Melar Danashj. Asylum."

He quickly snatched up a quill and parchment and began to write down his thoughts as quickly as he could. The voices volume grew to an insatiable level. His head throbbed as he wrote the word 'Connection'.

The room felt as though it were now spinning, his heart racing. Brox felt vertigo setting in as he fell over to the side upon a pile of papers. He clinched his teeth as he fell unconscious upon the floor, his body limp.

[Broxigan]

Darkness engulfed him as he felt as though he were spinning through nothingness. Feebly, he reached out, attempting to grab onto something, his head feeling as though it were going to explode. He felt his heart ache with each beat as he fell, seemingly forever, no end was insight. And this was when he stopped, flat on his face, a thud seeming to echo on forever all around him.

Groaning, he pushed himself up to his feet, narrowing his eyes as he peered around himself. Nothing. Blackness. He could not even see his hand in front of his own face. Brox took a step forward, his foot hitting something long, hard. Something metal. reaching down blindly, he felt it was his axe. Snatching it up, held it close, so far, the only thing of comfort wherever he was.

He then roared out, "Haaa! Where am I?! Who brought me here?!"

"No where. You have gone no where, darling.

"Damnit! Of all the things to be here, why is it you..." he growled as he spun around on the spot, trying to find something in the darkness. "Well, then, why am I here?!"

"We wanted to show you. To shut you up, Broxy. You know more than you should. You are too close."

As Brox continued to look around, a faint red light began to form in front of him. The another spot of light beside him; then behind him. Before he could completely spin on the spot, over a dozen shapeless, hazy, red lights had surrounded him. Haphazardly, he sung his axe at one of them, the blade moving through as though it were nothing.

"Tsk tsk. So angry, and we haven't even begun to start yet. You are ours now, Broxy. There is nothing more you can do..."

Brox growled to himself as he held his axe ready, constantly spinning on the spot, trying to keep an eye on all the shapeless lights. As he did, one of the glows began to take on a sort of shape. Almost humanoid in appearance, though, it only be a bust of whatever it was. A long, thin face slowly began to show in the light, long elven ears protruding from the sides of the head, night elfish markings around the eye sockets. The orcs eyes widened as he looked from the face to the other once shapeless lights.

Gnome. Human. Orc. Troll. Goblin. Tauren. Elf, both blood and night. Male and female. Busts of these races surrounded Broxigan as he stared wide eyed. One particular bust was larger than the rest; an orcish female. Their eyeless sockets stared deep into Brox as he could not help but tremble.

"Here we are, Broxy," all the busts said simultaneously, "We are you now. You have helped us more than you could ever know..." The orcish female bust grinned widely as it seemed to move close to Brox. "You certainly were foolish enough to let us in. We knew someone would screw up eventually. It was only a matter of time."

Stammering, Brox managed to ask, "Wh-what do you mean?! Let you in? Let you in where?!"

The busts laughed lightly in unison, "Foolish, foolish, foolish orc. You opened yourself fully to us. It was so inviting, we thought it a trap at first. So, one at a time, we came. Trapped within those god-forsaken walls for all of those years. Waiting. WAITING!" they screamed as their brightness grew. They quickly died down as they began to slowly spin around him. "You foolishly left yourself open, trying to contact you precious ancestors within those tainted walls."

Broxigan's arms fell limp at his side as he listened to what was being told to him. He damned himself. It was all his fault. His shoulders drooped a bit, his face falling.

"Damnit..." he whispered to himself.

Each faint face grinned widely. "Foolish, foolish orc. We must prepare...it will not be too much longer. Poor, Broxy..." Laughter erupted to ear splitting levels, the voices of all the busts slowly fading, the incomprehensible voices now making sense, at least. Each bust speaking in its own language as they fade into the blackness.

Brox felt himself fall to his knees, his hands letting the axe fall at his side. His eyes were heavy, his body was weak. He fell over on his face in the darkness and began to fall once again, lifelessly.

---

Brox convulsed violently there upon the floor for a moment then stilled. His eyes shot open as he bolted upright, coughing up a bit of blood. His body trembled as he sat there, dazed. It felt as through his brain was about to explode from his skull as he weakly reached for a piece of parchment and quill.

Swallowing tightly, he began to write again.

[Evanthe]

Evanthe picked up one of her pens and scribbled the note on a fresh white card.

Kiki-

I spoke with Skafloc about the caverns underneath the Melar Danashj castle. Would you care to accompany us down there? Perhaps you can find answers to that voice problem of yours. Unless you've discovered something else.

~Evanthe

She shook the note to dry the ink, then sealed it in a small envelope with Broxigan's name on the outside. With a flick of her wrist her voidwalker appeared, took the note from her, and placed it in the outgoing mail slot. Although the orc had been traveling a tremendous amount as of late, Evanthe wasn't concerned about the note finding it's way to him. The goblins had ways of ensuring the letter would get there, wherever 'there' was.

[Broxigan]

Groaning deeply to himself, Broxigan pushed his parchments, scrolls, books, quills and vials of ink into one of his bags. He shook his head lightly, lifting himself up off the floor of the inn within Shadowmoon Village. Glancing around himself, he made sure he had all of his belongings.

"That should be everything, I think," he mumbled to himself as he picked up his bags and tossed them over his shoulder. Trudging down the steps and out the door, he began to strap his bags and pouches to his mount.

"Excuse me! Orc!" shrilled a high pitched voice from behind Brox. He turned and looked over at the small, feminine goblin running towards him, holding something within her hand.

"Hm?" he grunted lowly.

Squeaking, she stopped before him and held out the piece of parchment. "I believe this is for you. You are Kiki, correct?"

He lets out a long, deep, annoyed sigh as he snatches the message and tosses a few coins at the goblin. "Go away..."

The goblin yelped and quickly gathered the coins and stuffed them into her clothing and ran off. Brox opened the note and began to read, his eyes narrowing and his brow furrowing as he folded the note and shoved it into one of his bags.

"Goblin!" called out Broxigan as he climbed onto his mount. The female goblin quickly ran back, but stopped some safe distance away from him.

"Yes, Kiki?" she answered timidly.

Broxigan quickly slapped a hand to his forehead and groaned as he shook his head, "Return this message to Evanthe for me. Tell her that I will meet them at the castle. I have discovered, or at least believe I have, the source of my problem. I will gladly accompany as far as I can, but be warned I may become...unstable." He tossed a small pouch of money to the goblin and rode off before she could speak. "Tell them I am on my way now..." he called over his shoulder as he left the village.

The goblin raised a thin brow then opened the pouch that was tossed to her. Her eyes widen quickly as she squeals with delight and quickly runs off, making sure this message would be delivered post-haste.