Fate/Lair Chaos- A Faction is BL IC

[Spinach]

Ryan LaFever
Week Three, Day Six

It hurts. Oh god, it hurts. And it's cold. The knife in my left palm is so cold. Yet, even though it's cold, it's hot. Scorching hot. Blistering, pulsating, fiery pain shoots down my arms, and I groan out a pained cry. Blood drips down the length of the blade lodged in my left palm, falling onto the back of my wrist. On my right side I can feel warm blood flowing from the wound on my right arm, trailing down my arm and falling to the ground below me, staining the crisp, green grass a dark red.

Why? Why is this happening to me? What did I do? Is it because I stole the scrubs and the lab coat? That's not worth killing over! They're just clothes! No. That can't be it. The look in his eyes- he's completely lost it. His face is contorted in rage, his face a furious red, and his eyes gleam with nothing more than the desire to see me dead.

It's terrifying.

I've fought people before, I've even been attacked with a knife before, but never was it this terrifying. Those skirmishes I've had in bad neighborhoods when I went out with my brothers and cousins were never like this. The people who've come after me in the past have always wanted to harm me, but never did I feel like they wanted me outright dead. Never have I been truly scared of an attacker.

It's utterly terrifying.

I raise my right knee up, slamming him in the chest, and for an instant his grip on the knife in my left hand weakens. I pull back with all of my might, separating myself from him, and I can feel the knife in my palm shift from his effort to keep his grip on it and my own effort to separate from him. More white hot pain lances through my arms, reminding me of the hideous state of my left hand and my right arm. I have no way to fight back like this. My right arm isn't moving like I want it to. He must have hit something important. My left hand is too damaged, I can't even form a fist with the condition it's in. I have only one option.

This is too terrifying.

I run. All of these years of regular jogging finally pay off as I sprint at full speed away from that guy. Behind me I can hear his screaming, constant shrieks of "DIE DIE DIE DIE" always behind me. I don't even bother to turn to look, too afraid that the act might slow me down too much, allowing him to gain even an inch of distance that I don't want him to have.

I pant, trying desperately to keep my breathing steady, and failing miserably. My head feels both light and heavy, and my wounds are cold yet warm, the constant seeping of blood from the gash on my right arm keeps my skin warm, yet the wound itself feels cold. It's a terribly uncomfortable sensation coupled with the dreadful pain. This is so much worse than the last time I was attacked with a knife. I got off with some cuts over my arms with none being close to as deep as what was just inflicted on me.

How am I going to get out of this? I can't hide. It's impossible. Without a doubt there's a trail of blood behind me, originating from the right arm that's hanging limp at my side. He'll just follow that and find me wherever I go. And I can't run forever, regardless of how good my actual stamina is. That guy doesn't seem to be in good shape, and I don't think he'll catch up with me if I keep this pace going, but... With all this blood I'm losing I'm eventually going to tire out. Probably before he does.

What the hell do I do? I haven't seen anybody around since I started running, almost as if the Lair is empty save for myself and this guy chasing me, so it looks like I won't be getting any help. I could try to run to the penthouse, but it's pretty far away. I don't think I'll make it before I tire out.

Think. Think. Think. Think. Think...!

Up ahead I see a familiar building, one I've never been inside, but heard of. If I remember right that's the building with the Personal Entertainment Suites. Maybe someone is there that can help me, and if not, I can at least lock myself in one of the PES and call for help.

I hope.

I run into the PES building, scanning the entrance for any people who can help. Of course, almost as if the world is aligned to keep this situation as bad as possible, nobody is in sight. Before I can so much as begin to think about where to go now to find a PES to barricade myself in I hear the sound of my pursuer yelling something about me being a "pretender" in between multiple repetitions of the word "die!"

Without wasting a second I run down the nearest hall, stopping at the first PES room I see. Stopping abruptly I turn to the door, and with my amputated left hand I twist the door knob, but it doesn't budge.

"Locked?! Whoever's inside, please, open up!" I yell, and slam my forehead into the door out of anger, incapable of knocking and opting to use my head to catch the attention of anyone who might be inside. From down the hall I can hear the voice of my pursuer getting closer, and I begin to panic. Beside the door I see a panel, with a few buttons and what looks like one of those intercom things used for private residences. The ones that rich people put at the gates of their overly large homes. Hastily raising my left hand up my left hand to the panel I press a green button with one of my non-amputated fingers, and after hearing a click sound, I lean in closer to the panel, and in a voice that's surprisingly calm, given my situation, I say, "Anyone who's in there, if you can hear me, there's someone after me with a knife. Please, please will you let me in...?"

A second passes. And then another. And another. Each one feels like an eternity with the sound of heavy feet hustling in my direction, threats being spewed at me by a knife wielding maniac. Just as I begin to lose hope, and turn to run away and search for another refuge, I hear another click from the panel, and shortly after comes a voice, female, speaking between heavy breaths.

"F-fea, p-please don't t-touch my ea-eyaaaaa~!"

As soon as she says what sounds like "Yeah" I hear another click, and with renewed spirit, I reach out for the door knob with my left hand, prepared to abandon this PES if it's still locked.

Much to my relief the door opens this time, and I quickly shuffle into the PES, hastily shutting the door behind me. It appears that the 'simulation', or whatever it is that these things do, is a log cabin. I can hear voices coming from further inside the cabin, probably from the people who're running this simulation. Leaning against the wall on my right, and taking slow, deep breaths, I begin making my way to the origin of the voices. Smears of blood coat the wall that I'm leaning on, but I don't care. This is just a simulated cabin, and I really just want to lean on something right now and catch my breath while I walk. And this wall is the best thing I have at the moment.

I exit into a larger room, with a sofa and three people in the middle of the-...

... Are you kidding me? The three of them are on the sofa getting it on. A guy and a girl I don't know and... the.. fox girl... from the cafe earlier this week... Yeah, that's cool. It's not like I knew her, right? I never even spoke to her. I'm not jealous. Fuck you. I'm not jealous. Fuck you. Fuck you. I'm not jealous. Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you.

Wait a second. Stop raging. There are more important things than fox girl. You're bleeding. A lot. There's a fucking knife in your left palm. Your right arm barely moves. And... I hear footsteps behind me, and deep, labored breathing...

I forgot to lock the door when I came in.

Great.

"DIE!"

I lunge forward, more falling than lunging, really, and narrowly escape a knife thrust aimed for my defenseless back. Or so I thought. A sharp, stinging pain originating from my shoulder informs me that he managed to nick me, if only slightly. Rolling forward, and groaning out in pain when I accidently hit the handle of the knife in my my left hand on the hard wooden floor, I come to a stop in front of the couch. Righting myself as fast I can, I turn to face my attacker, locking eyes with him. There's no more running now. This is a dead end. But I've got three others behind me, and I hope they're willing to help.

"A.. little..." I say, between deep breaths, and wincing and at the pain of my new wound, as well as the impact with my left hand reminding me that my previous injuries are still very real, and very serious, "... help... please?"

[deviatesfish]

Mikhail Daud Vishnya
Week 3, Date Unknown
The Dreaming Void

"No." A club swings down.

---Crunch.
--Smash.
-----splutter, splat... blood, bone and steel everywhere. You feel it all.

...But you are not dead.

She chuckles, "Don't think that such hot-blooded attempts will work, little bee... but I won't allow my entertainment to end so easily..."

As her voice fades, you are formed again. Muscles and sinew are sown together, bound onto bone, fueled by blood. You are formed once more, standing before the Red Ogre, facing it eye-to-eye. You are different now. You are the Blue Ogre, servant of the goddess given form once more. Only now do you realize that this isn't not quite your mind--

--not quite the network of Dreams--

--not quite the Lair--

-----it is an intersection of all things, a bundle of strings tied into a knot. You are at this knot. Within this area, you can try to form your will, but it is her will that is the ultimate being. In a sense, this tiny, tiny sphere within alternate planes is the reality of Amanozako...

Or at least, a piece of it.

A piece of her.

Your body moves without your control. For every hit you land, an equal is returned. Yet so equally matched are you two ogres that neither of you are able to overcome the other. For everything that you form, an equal shadow of it forms against you. Heracles clashes against Heracles. Fujino matches against Fujino. Raika dances around Raika.

How do you defeat something that is completely your equal, matching you every since step?

[Five_X]

Amber

Eh? What's this? Some idiot with a knife managed to stumble in here... oh, and there's another!

Well, I push the bastards out of the PES and lock the door... but not before tossing a sharp fireplace poker to the bloodied up guy.

[alfheimwanderer]

Mikhail Daud Vishnya
Week 3, Date Unknown
The Dreaming Void

Pain assailed me as my body was crushed, my working of will being rendered powerless here - which shouldn't have been the case if it was my mind. Matched - perhaps, but not simply crushed, not when the very concept of the paladin transformation was survivability. I was no utter novice to this realm - I'd worked for over a decade and a half refining my talent and I knew the rules of the Dreaming - what was permissible - which was probably why I was shocked that this had failed so suddenly, my mind groping for an explanation.

...not...mind...not Dreaming Network...Not...Lair...

Wait...did that mean?

...Between...intersection...

...so that was why. Naturally, if this was something linked to the Void instead, then a fragment of Amanozako would have greater priority than I, given that she was older and thus had more mystery written into the core of her very being.

But whatever. She called this a survival game. Thus winning is not defeating my enemy but simply surviving...

Those were the terms she had used, those were the terms she would be bound by, and as long as she controlled both of us, we were equal, with none capable of defeating the other. Almost as if she didn't have winning in mind in the first place, since it was not death, but boredom that was the enemy of immortals.

One will against one will - a mirror to a mirror - a game with 'Everything' at stake.

She wanted entertainment, to see me struggle, to see me fight - and yet was unwilling to do more complain - unwilling to see me die, because she'd lose what interested her. She wanted something from me, I imagined - perhaps to see how I would tip the scales, or at least stand against her as she could match me with things equal and opposite.

Even Raika, which she should not have been able to simply duplicate if I was the focus of this game, because Raika was not me.

...perhaps then, forming Raika wasn't the wisest move, as that drew from my abilities. Instead, I'd have to tap into her knowledge, synchronizing her will with mine. For in this place, nothing was impossible, and if all was simply a construct, a deadly dance woven by Amanozako, then a new element needed to be introduced.

Sidequest: Synchronize with Raika, attempting to match her will to survive with my own.
Sidequest: Reach out to the Dreamer if possible to disrupt the balance.

[alfheimwanderer]

Amber, Ryan LaFever, Leo, Feaura Malice
Personal Entertainment Suite
Week Three, Day Six

Eh? What's this? Some idiot with a knife managed to stumble in here... oh, and there's another!

Well, I push the bastards out of the PES and lock the door... but not before tossing a sharp fireplace poker to the bloodied up guy.

You try, but you fail. It is not a simple task to push someone who is 6'6"(198 cm) and 210lb (95kg) out a door if they don't want to be moved - especially when your panties are around your knees and moments ago you were having your crotch caressed and stroked, leaving your legs weak to the point that you wanted to give in - to the point that you couldn't control your moans. You could barely stand - and then you stumble over yourself trying to get to the poker, sprawling ungainfully on the floor with your legs spread wide.

...just as the maniac burst in with terrifying shouts of "DIE! DIE! DIE!"

You can see in his expression pure, unadulterated rage, like nothing you've seen before, as if every bit of his being has been given over to the thirst for blood, as the black blades in his hand swing wildly.

Now he's seen you - and he can't afford to leave any witnesses.

...can't risk being known as a murderer. He only wanted to kill one person to begin with - someone he perhaps mistook for another, given the garments - but now he has no choice.

He'll have to kill you all.

You don't recognize him. You don't even know why he wants you - or the man you saw in the cafe earlier in the week - dead.

But that is the reality you must deal with, even entangled as you were with another's limbs and flesh.

The tall man (who has been brutally stabbed, cut, and is bleeding all over) has managed to grab onto the assailant's knife arm with his barely functional arm, and, pressed against the wall, is desperately trying to keep the sharp edge from slamming down into his chest.

...his strength will soon falter, and when it does, he will die.

A man will be murdered before your eyes, and if you do nothing, you will be next.

There is no escape possible, no chance of escape, for he is between you and the door.

...what will you do?

[Airen]

Airen/Joshua Williams
Week 3, Date Unknown
???

Perhaps they had drugged me to help with the lessening, but still constant pain, or maybe I had simply fallen asleep on my own, but whatever the case, I was no longer staying at the bleary white tiles of the hospital ceiling, listening to the medical personnel chatter on about both important and unimportant things. The place I found myself in now was covered in a complete and seemingly unbroken darkness, in which I floated, unable to move my limbs, as if I was suffering from the condition known as sleep paralysis.

Which I suppose was somewhat fitting, I suppose as the original definition of Sleep Paralysis had given shape to the modern day term 'nightmare.'

And this was definitely a nightmare, having been locked in here before, I had no doubts as to the fact that this place was not a part of the waking world, and was instead, just a nightmare that my subconscious mind seemed to like tormenting me with, a recurring dream that bound me within my own thoughts, and made me face some sort of shapeless terror that had never once revealed itself to me.

But even if I couldn't see it, I could hear it, moving around out there like some sort of malevolent wraith, or perhaps a shadow of death?

Hmmm...

That was an interesting way to look at it I suppose, was this my mind's way of dealing with the fear of death, a fear recently revived by the murder of Jim Raynor?

Regardless, not that I had come to the conclusion that this was a dream, an illusion such as this could be shattered in a variety of ways, the most common of which would be to step through some sort of door, and convince myself that there would be some other scene lying on the other side of the door.

The problem with that plan however, was that there was no door, and for some odd reason, I had always found it difficult to create such a thing on a dream scape.

Which left me to my own, personal solution to changing the scene, which was to simply close my eyes, reach out my hand, and-

“Aya, can you give me a hand?”

Spoke out into the darkness for the young woman who had accompanied me in my dreams for about three years now, the only person other than myself who was able to shape my personal dream-scape into something else, to mold parts of it into something more vivid than the fleeting scenes crafted automatically from my subconscious.

And, in response to my call, a gentle but firm hand grabbed a hold of my outstretched arm, and pulled me somewhere else, a place in which I could finally place my feet on the ground, where the laws of gravity once more applied themselves in a familiar manner. Now, I couldn't tell if it was because of the reappearance of gravity, or because my right leg chose that particular time to shimmer into the same metallic form my arm had taken in the hospital, but regardless of the reason, I found myself falling forward towards the grey concrete of what appeared to be a rooftop, my descent stopped only by the fact that Aya had yet to release my arm.

"Hey Josh," her tone, which normally held veiled hints of sarcasm, seemed unusually concerned, "It's been awhile, hasn't it?"

"Yeah," moving back a bit to regain my balance, I looked towards my only consistent dream companion, who had resumed a casual pose as she leaned back against a handrail, her hands in the pockets of her usual, black leather jacket, "Sorry, my sleeping schedule's been messed up for the past couple of weeks."

Aya didn't immediately respond to my statement, but her eyes wandered quickly down my body to the still shimmering metallic form of my leg, "What the hell have you been doing to yourself?"

And so with some relief, I began to explain everything that had happened to me in the past three weeks, even though we both knew that she was already well aware of the whole Lair situation, after all, judging from my previous interactions with her, I was pretty sure that she had some access to my memories...

But she let me tell the story anyway, as it was something I needed to talk about, something I needed to complain about...

And so, even though I normally would have been forced awake by now, the dream continued to spin...

---Interlude---

[Kratosirving]

Feaura
Week 3; Day 6
Inside Feaura's Personal Punishment Suite

I look up swiftly at hearing the shouts of murderous rage and howls of pain, capping my action with a loud pop. Trained reflexes and muscles tense together and I leap off the couch and dive for my discarded vest, my collapsible staff attached to the back of it.

I get to my feet and scamper towards the two men near the wall, my weapon leveled and ready. A knife is possibly the most frightening weapon to face at close range, but it is a simple matter for someone trained with a staff to oppose because of the difference in range between the two. As long as I concentrate, and don’t let him get too close, I have nothing to fear.

As I reach striking distance, the enraged man turns and spits a curse at me before pulling his blade away from his victim and brutally slashing towards my heart. I calmly read the direction of his blow and pivot on the back of my right foot, causing him to brush past my naked breast. I immediately follow with a vicious rap to the hand holding the knife, causing him to drop it. My body is already in motion like flowing water as I reverse direction and bring the same end of the staff low in a low sweep, knocking the mad assailant to the ground before bringing the opposite end to his throat.

[SeiKeo]

Leo

I’m kind of a twitchy person: hearing my name makes me turn my head instantly. So do minor noises during the night, so do shadows from birds overhead... maybe I’m just paranoid. As you can guess, two screaming people suddenly jumping in on us made me twitch pretty badly. We all jump up in one motion, Amber scrambling for clothes and Feaura grabbing her staff.

I also grab my pants, leaping off the couch and rolling towards the cabinets on the wall. While looking through them for drinks, I remembered there being a first aid kit, which I barrel towards shirtless. The girls seem to have the whole killing part figured out: I’ll see if I can get the helping part in order. Grabbing the kit, I stand by with it in one hand and a bottle of cider in the other. Hurt or heal.

[Five_X]

Amber

“Ah, fuck!” I try to go for the awesome fireplace poker to stop these intruders, but I totally fuck up at that and get my ass handed to me by the floor. Grumbling but wasting no time, the so-called blurred vision and poor focus of arousal completely gone, I get on my knees, stand up, pull my pants and panties back up, and make a dash for the fireplace poker. I mess with the logs and spread some fire onto the carpet, hoping that it’ll spread farther soon enough; the cabin is dry and very decorated, so the fire shouldn’t take long to catch across the floor.

The fireplace poker is of a cool iron, and has a slightly blunted but effective tip at one end, and a sort of hook here, too. It’s roughly two feet or so in length, like a usual poker, and it will do as a weapon.

I’ve been in fights before this one. Whether they were serious brawls (ouch) or friendly sparring (yay!) I at least know something about how to act in these sorts of situations. Not to mention the number of times that I’ve been in life or death scenarios, some not unlike this one...

“Yippie kie yay, motherfucker!” I shout, brandishing the fireplace poker as if it was a goddamn lance or something. I see the ragged, haggard man, barely alive, making no sound compared to the crazed fellow charging in like a man possessed by a fierce demon.

Whiskey is a hell of a drink.

I shout at the crazed man. “Stop! You’ve violated the law! Pay the Inquisition a fine or serve your sentence!”

To save this soul from the demons of alcohol, I come in from the flank, aiming to separate him from the wounded man, making them easier to target individually. I’m holding the lance- er, fireplace poker- with both hands, pointed straight for the madman’s gut.

I’m not the best in combat, of course, and I’ll naturally tune myself to either helping the wounded man or helping Feaura, who is fighting against the mad bastard.

Probably the former, as I see Feaura doing quite well in her fight.

[alfheimwanderer]

Amber, Ryan LaFever, Leo, Feaura Malice
Personal Entertainment Suite
Week Three, Day Six

Screams of incandescent rage, uncontrollable and nearly incomprehensible, poured from the mouth of the madman as he ranted about tyranny, freedom, chaos, and arrogant bastards, his knife slashing and jabbing as he tried to slay the man he had pushed against the wall.
"DIE. DIE DIE DIE DIEDIEDIEDIEDIE!"

Unfortunately, before he could do more than carve the beginnings of a bloody second smile into the flesh of his intended victim, he was distracted by someone rushing at him, upon which he ripped his knife free of the first man's feeble grasp and lunged for the naked form of the petite, yet well-toned redhead, anger and lust warring his eyes. But the madman did not count on his opponent to be as skilled in the martial arts as she was in the marital, as Ferura Malice slammed her iron rod down upon his wrist - disarming him before reversing direction and making him fall to the ground.

But while the knife had been knocked free of his hand, he was not helpless, as he just flipped backwards, reaching down and ripping free the knife buried in his first victim's arm.

And then he looked at the one called Feaura Malice, his gaze a monstrous thing, hideous and shapeless, with his body twisting upon itself. His shanks and his joints, every knuckle and angle and organ from head to foot, shook like a tree in the wind. His mouth weirdly distorted as well, and one could almost see traces of shadow swirling malignant around his form. His eyes bulged, his fingers lengthened and became more clawlike, as if he was a living embodiment of rage and lust.

Something dark and sinister seeps from his mouth--and sensing weaker prey, he decides to cull the herd, starting with the foxgirl who spoke about the inquisition.

He rises, elbowing the poker aside, knife moving in a blur as what little remains of her garments are shredded in a second, thin, angry red lines evident on her once flawless flesh.

[Spinach]

Ryan LaFever
Personal Entertainment Suite
Week Three, Day Six

Red. Everything I see is tinted in red. Blood trickles down from my forehead, rolling into my eyes, and tainting my vision. The man in front of me, his face twisted in rage, is a deep, plum red. The barely functional arms that I use to narrowly avoid being stabbed to death are coated in crimson. The walls behind me are smeared with my blood, and I can hear the sound of my own feet falling into small, slow forming puddles.

The back of my head is slammed mercilessly against the wall of the log cabin, and for a moment the all encompassing red is replaced with white, and I collapse. I close my eyes, prepared for the death blow, but it never comes. Instead I hear more fighting going on, I guess maybe those three decided to help. I hear a loud thud as someone, most likely the man with the knife judging by the loudness of the impact, hits the ground.

And then I feel a shift in my left palm... Why is someone touching my left ha-

Kkaaahhh!

He ripped it out! He ripped the knife out of my palm! God damn!

My previous drowsiness completely disappears in the presence of the new sensation of pain. I open my eyes, and pull my left hand toward my chest to cradle it, trying to suppress the urge to scream. The area in my left palm where the knife was previously located is even more damaged than before, no doubt because of the extremely abrupt, forced exit of the knife.

Oh god. It hurts so much more when it exits than when it comes in...!

I look up, and I see the knife man attack the fox girl from the cafe. Cuts are forming rapidly all along her body... She won't last. The one with the weird staff can't stop him, and I don't know where that guy from before went.

Unacceptable.

I brought this guy here, and now someone, a woman, is going to die defending me? No. That is...

Unacceptable.

In the corner of my eyes I spot the other knife that he was carrying with him, which at some point must have been knocked out of his grasp. Slowly, with trembling fingers, I reach out with my right arm, and take the knife in hand.

Now that I look closer at this guy, he's clearly something inhuman, and almost looks like he's been possessed by a demon of some sort. His body is changing, convulsing, with some sort of disgusting transformation turning him into more than some mere madman with each passing second. He's probably no longer human anymore. Whatever's possessing him is beyond me. It might be some kind of demon that, with research, I might be able to bind and even control, but I have neither the time nor the tools to do that.

So that settles it. Kill or be killed. He's not going to stop until either we're dead or him, and we don't have what we need to restrain him until help comes. This is the only way.

He doesn't pay any attention to me as I slowly raise myself off of the floor. I walk my way toward him, the sound of blood under my shoes a clear giveaway of my approach, yet he doesn't react. I raise the knife in my hand, he continues slashing.

I bring the knife down, directly into his jugular, with all of my might. While doing so I press on the other side of his head with my left hand, using what little strength I can muster from it, and push the knife even deeper into his neck.

[alfheimwanderer]

Ryan LaFever
Personal Entertainment Suite
Week Three, Day Six

It was...odd...how easily the knife slices into the man's jugular with the strength lent by desperation. How with an upward jerk, the dark blade carves deep into flesh, meeting resistance only briefly before it is driven in deeper, sheering through the spinal cord. The body of the possessed man jerks, spasming under your hands as life blood flows and oozes over your trembling hands like a putrid coat of paint. You sigh in relief as you feel the life flowing out of the crazed man, even as his knife slashes wildly...and so you miss how his eyes turn jet black, as shadow wraps his form, seeming to dig into his skin.

Your breathing is nearly out of control, and you feel dizzy as your blood mingles with his, pooling on the floor.

His body collapses, with yours soon following once the twitches and death spasms have faded.

'It is done....'

Or so you think.

fhtagnh!

...but you are wrong.

The corpse twists, bends, transforms, steams, as a sibilant hissing fills the air...

Something...something looms.

Large, having neither a discernable torso nor appendages, a mass of countless tentacles surrounding a circular mouth-like opening marked with shark-like blades.

An eldritch Horror...

...what the corpse became - or better say - was used to summon, touched as it was by the hand of a shambler from beyond the stars...

'Oh...shit.'

Hungrily...it fastens quick tentacles onto the girl with the staff, pulling her towards its gaping maw as you can only look on, your strength all but gone...

[Brynhilde]

Katherine Yen
Week 3, Day 5
Alf's Dream Cafe

Eryn Lasgalen - the latter name of Mirkwood in Lord of the Rings, the great vast forest shrouded in green twilight. The home of sylvaen elves, those who chose not to move west and see the light - figured Alf would choose something like this as his setting.

Which only made the kimono more incongruous. Don't get me wrong, I love this design - but I wouldn't have minded a flowing garment of the elves.

Looking out over the rather crowded cafe, I see a multitude of Nasuverse characters drinking, talking, and enjoying themselves in general. Is that the birthday party that Alf would like? Wondering matter-of-factly, I tactfully ignored the colourful cast and approach the owner of this realm.

Smiling at young, excitable Mana, and how she literally jumped up and down next to Alf, teasing him continuously, I allow Ren to lead me up to the group surrounding Alf and introduced myself.

White Ren remained silent as usual, of course. Mana instantly pounced on me, asking me all sorts of questions about myself, eager to know as much as she could about the first friend that Alf had managed to bring into this dreaming realm. Grinning, I replied to her best I could - that is, not the whole truth.

For while Alf sat there looking awkward and embarrassed from the way Mana was 'hassling' me, I kept in mind the stain that was her presence.

I did not acknowledge her beyond a cursory nod and a polite smile, and she didn't speak a single word back to me in return, deciding to keep going at her cheesecake. Yet, as if it was a woman's intuition, I knew she was looking at me, assessing me, grading me.

And I let her do that while I continued laughing with Mana. Was I not afraid? No, I have to admit I was. Was I trying to escape, to deny her presence? Perhaps. But, most importantly, I don't want to seem upset or unsettled by her presence, unwilling to show that I was weak enough to be scared of her. A stubborn - and almost childish - decision.

When Mana finally got to fill her mouth with cake and settled down to enjoy the delicacy, and Alf and I have finished some small talk about the Lair, I sat down with my piece of cake, only to find that she had sauntered over and chose to sit directly opposite me.

Dark eyes stared into dark eyes as she gracefully pulled out her chair and sat down, with Alf and Mana occupying the other two sides of the square table. We did not speak to each other. She gazed at me, a small and mysterious smile on her lips all the time, her obsidian eyes never leaving my face. I ate my cake, moving the dessert spoon from plate to mouth, my attention divided between her and the food.

She was a dark, fiery beauty, like a scarlet flower that bloomed in the deepest night. She did not look terribly different from Reika, but she had an aura, a presence, that constantly spoke of challenge and dissent. Sitting near her was like being close to a whirlpool of water - a spiral force that would draw people in; and for those who panicked and blindly waved their limbs to escape, they only sank in even deeper. The only way of defeating it, really, was to understand it.

So I fixed my gaze on her as well.

If you truly represent all the negative emotions of a human, then I have nothing to fear.

All the desires that you represent - greed, lust, gluttony - I have faced them in my darkest hours.

All the sorrows that drove you - jealousy, hatred, despair - I have tasted them in those lightless days.

Those who walked in the darkness for too long become partially immune to it, for too broken are our souls.

How would you attempt to break a broken thing even further?

Even though my thoughts surely had no ways of reaching her, her thin brows still furrowed, as if she spied what was said in my mind. For a moment, I could have sworn that the space around her shivered, warped, twisted as if an invisible heat was rising from her, frizzling the half-reality of this cafe -

And I pause, unsure of what had just happened as I watched the disturbance grew larger and larger in this plane of existance, as more and more of the space twisted and turned ----

What have I just done?!

[alfheimwanderer]

Katherine Yen
Week 3, Day 5
Alf's Dream Cafe

Those who walked in the darkness for too long become partially immune to it, for too broken are our souls.

How would you attempt to break a broken thing even further?

That was the challenge you posed to the demon of curses in an attempt to believe yourself immune to the darkness because you walked in it, to prove to her that you did not need to be afraid of this representation of the darkness of humanity. That was the challenge you gave to push back against being graded as...perhaps a rival? An odd thought, that, as that was a topic you did not quite wish to think about, even in this place - especially in this place to which you were one of the first outside visitors.

You knew in your heart of hearts that there should have been no way for the dark beauty to hear you, and yet, as dark eyes stared into dark...there was a response:

'...by taking away that to which you cling.'

This time, when she smiled, it was cruel, revealing what seemed like fangs.

She fixed you with her gaze, and around her, space shivered, warped, distorted, erasing the half-reality of the dream cafe and replacing it with utter darkness...and blood.

The succubus familiar, Ren, who shares the power of the cafe's master, throws up a quick barrier, an eight-fold shield of ice that would ordinarily block any foreign power. But this is nothing ordinary, and so the girl touches you, a finger aglow with light as she speaks.

"...wake up now...!"

At a psychic push, you begin to phase out of that dreaming world, but not before you see the barrier collapse and all within - even Mikhail - swallowed up by endless night.

At that moment, the simulation ends and you are released from the frozen embrace of the darkness, finding yourself in the barren interior of an inert Personal Entertainment Suite.

You wonder what just happened, turning to Mikhail to ask him of this...only to see that he is slumped over where he sat, still fast asleep.

And despite any attempts you make to rouse him, he does not wake up - doesn't even stir - his body boneless and limp as death.

[Spinach]

Ryan LaFever
Week Three, Day Six
Personal Entertainment Suite

A tentacle Horror? Like the ones Gilles de Rais, the Caster from the Fourth War, summons? I can't fight one of these! Even in top condition, with fully functioning arms, this thing would end me with little to no resistance. And to make things even worse, the woman with the staff is about to be eaten by this thing. Because of me.

Absolutely, completely, totally UNNACEPTABLE.

I refuse to let some woman I don't even know die protecting me. Whether I die or live after this doesn't matter. It won't sit well with me in life or death to know that I dragged another to their death. But what can I do? I'm out of strength. I couldn't kill this thing even if I had any strength left, anyway. The girls won't be much help, either. The guy from before probably couldn't do anything if he was here, either.

Only one option is left. Do or die.

I fall to my knees, partially out of exhaustion, but mostly because I want to be on the floor. To my left I see a clean spot on the floor, untouched by all of the blood. It will suffice. I reach out with my left hand, and with bloodied fingers, I begin hastily tracing the required summoning circle to call forth one of the few demons I studied in-depth. He's not among the most powerful of creatures to summon, but of what William translated, he and Malphas are the only two I truly memorized the necessary process of conjuring. Looking back, maybe I was an idiot for not memorizing something more powerful, to better protect myself in a situation like this.

But this should be enough. Horrors aren't exceptionally powerful creatures. A single Horror won't be able to stand up against what I'm going to summon. If I succeed, that is. And even if I do fail, and a repeat of my Malphas summoning attempt occurs, it might just be enough to take this thing out. And if I die, that's fine. At least I'll have died like a man, without giving up.

So, Naberius. Let's see if you're willing to help me out. I pull my hand away from the finished summoning circle, written in my own blood, and begin the incantation to conjure Naberius.

[alfheimwanderer]

Ryan LaFever
Week Three, Day Six
Personal Entertainment Suite

I pull my hand away from the finished summoning circle, written in my own blood, and begin the incantation to conjure Naberius.

Despite your severely injured state, you force yourself to draw out the summoning circle, with at least most of the necessary particulars written out. You get the feeling that you might have missed something, or your finger might have slipped, but it doesn't matter. Right now, you are just concentrating on summoning something - anything - that will get you through this situation - or at least keep everyone else alive, even if you must die, even if you have to sacrifice everything to do so.

...is that so?

Your circuits are wrenched open, as what is left of your prana races through them, burning your very soul. You can hardly control it, you barely know how to control it. All you know is that you have to do so, that you don't have a choice.

Against your skin, you feel what you think are the feathers of an angel's wings, a sensation that is both reassuring and nauseating - a sensation that you remember all too well.

Circuit opening.

And indeed, that was the presence you remember, giving you the illusion of bleeding hands, bleeding eyes, bleeding nose.

Blood from every orifice trickling.

...Tell me what you cherish most...tell me what you desire...

No. Not this again...please...not this...

But there is no choice as prana seeps into your system, disgorging itself from every part of your body, flowing into your blood, so that it shines with a pale, unearthly glow.

It drips down, covering the floor with its pallid illumination, wriggling like a force of its own.

For an instant, the whole world shines, though everything seems flat, like an imitation of itself, part of a garden of models...

...one will be granted...

Around you, wind howls, space bands, light and heat converge - but you can barely feel it. It's almost as if you are simply watching events through the eyes of a doll, a doll which does not smell, does not taste, does not feel.

The world screams as lightning discharges from your form, surging into the Horror, which almost seems to drink in the prana, born as it is from the blood and flesh of the dying man - and your own. More and more and more pours out as the last, desperate scraps flow from you...

...not enough.

Please. Please. PLEASE.

...and one will be lost...

A shriek as flesh boils - from your throat - from the throat of the horror? You can't tell - but you can tell that half your vision is gone, and the world...is at peace.

The horror is nowhere to be found.

The people around are safe.

And you lay among charred, blackened pieces of flesh, with more raining down around you. Your body is covered in blood and wounds and burns, and exhausted, your mind gives out at last, as the world goes black.

[deviatesfish]

Mikhail Daud Vishnya
Week 3, Date Unknown
The Dreaming Void

Sidequest: Synchronize with Raika, attempting to match her will to survive with my own.
Sidequest: Reach out to the Dreamer if possible to disrupt the balance.

The Dreamer has no control here.

You can feel that much, as your pleas go unheard. But to synchronize with Raika? To even bring her out...?

In a way, you solved this little game before it truly started, and for that the shadows receded and calmed. They were no longer black flames, ready to incinerate you into ashes. They were no longer tiny claws, trying to ripe you apart. They backed off and became as shadows should.

It was strange... for Raika to come forth, yet for the mirror to only reflect one being... that meant the mirror reflected Raika. If even for only a second, it was enough to allow a body as yours to crush your opponent. Though Raika seemed strangely fascinated by the destruction of her current form, you were only allowed a moment of respite before the Lady Amanozako spoke once more, "Hmph! You... well, I promised, didn't I, little bee? I will be watching you-u-u-..."

As the last syllable echoed through your mind, you awoke.

Your body ached from neglect. It must have been almost a whole day, though that battle seemed like merely seconds. Your eyes blinked away the sand, and your throat cleared slowly. Pain beyond what the opening of circuits bestowed upon you smashed into your mind. It was a phantom pain that originated from your left hand. It burned, not unlike something stitching itself into your body and soul at the same time.

A fading whisper giggled in your ears, just out of reach, too far behind you no matter how you turned, "-u-u-u. Never say I am not one to keep my promises. For now, Not-Lord Not-Mikhail, I shall sleep. I seem to have exhausted myself to pay such a costly wager, but it has been keenly interesting. You may have gained, but you have lost more than you know..."

At the center of your palm, something akin to a crystallization of curses formed. First, a single dot burned itself into your skin, into your soul. As it penetrated all that you once were, the blackness spread in eight directions, stopping only three centimeters away from the central blackness to form small spearheads. It looked as if it were an eight pointed star. It felt like an extension of something stitched into you, then heated until it melted and became part of you. A single pulse of prana resonated from it, and upon noticing this, you realized that this was not just an amalgamation of curses, but also some kind of psuedo-magic circuits of some kind. Perhaps the closest description might be that it was a single, tiny crest. But even its existence poked at your being, irritating like an itch you cannot scratch, a lost limb you cannot heal, a wound that constantly bleeds...

You could shut it all away, all off, just like a crest too. But even then, your palm was... itchy...

Gained: Curse Crest (Worth 4 Circuits, Disrupt Prana Ability, Curse Bolt of Minor Blindness and Deafness, Curses User Pain Below Threshold Level When Used, Other Unknown)

[Dis Laplace]

Dis Laplace (Alan Law)
Week 3; Day 4

---

[Warning: Siginal Lost; Attempting to Reconn-]
*slap*
"Shaddup and fix the damned reception already."

---

Week 3; Day 4
Side Quests

Operation Odd Job Todd Mk.III

Mission Objectives:
-Work in Repository; start on rough drafting maps starting from entrance.
-Serve as temp swim instructor/Lifeguard.

Operation Princess Stabbity Mk.II

Mission Objective:
Investigate the burnt out scrap of paper; see if it is possible to identiy any markings. If not see if there's a forensics lab/tech in the Lair.

Bonus Mission

Operation Goal-lem

Mission Objective:
Make obervations on the Library Golem, temporary designation "Patchouli". Reason for designation will be supplied if neccessary.

[alfheimwanderer]

Dis Laplace (Alan Law)
Week 3; Day 4
Results

Side Quests

Mission Objectives:
-Work in Repository; start on rough drafting maps starting from entrance.
-Serve as temp swim instructor/Lifeguard.

You begin the long work of getting some of the newer holographic maps put down on paper, since you know that not everyone has access to a magipad, and it would be helpful for most to have an idea of how the library is laid out. As for work as a swim instructor, you continue to teach a number of others - a few even thank you by treating you to a nice meal at one of the restaurants and showing you the jewellery shop.

Mission Objective:
Investigate the burnt out scrap of paper; see if it is possible to identiy any markings. If not see if there's a forensics lab/tech in the Lair.

A scan of the burnt out scrap of paper reveals that it was once saturated with a great deal of prana, though now, all that remains is a scorched surface. Under magnification, you cannot conclusively identify whether it was torn, ripped, or cut conclusively, thanks to fire having damaged the edges, but signs indicated that it was sliced by something hot.

Make obervations on the Library Golem, temporary designation "Patchouli". Reason for designation will be supplied if necessary.

You can't tell much about the golem, other than that it has powerful sensors that may be superior to those in the Datapad, and that it only responds to basic commands for now. Some of your co-workers are rather amused to find another Touhou fan, though the one person you've seen directing golems mentions he prefers Marisa, Byakuren, and Sakuya...