Completed [Nyka] Dominion, or the tragedy of the commons [Ialari]

[Tarot]

Up there, in the clueless world above, four monks could not suppress a shiver at the echoes of agony coming from the maws of the Aperture. It was not the first time that some cruel breezes carried up the hints of gruesome deaths taking place in the city's deepest recesses, but you never really got used to it. Especially when you recognized the voice, as they did now. The Isur had met her doom, they were sure; and, even though they did not care for her airs of arrogance, they mouthed a silent prayer for her soul.

Ialari felt like she was taking a stampede right on, each bolt scraping at her very being as it bolted through. Slivers of madness wounded her as they had wounded others before; yet the Isur refused to die. Her life hanging by her willpower alone, she finally reached for two of those cruelly dissonant memories, grabbed them, and pushed them together. There was a brilliant flash behind her eyes and noticed that those particular memories no longer felt like shrapnel across her mind. They were still as ugly as ever, but they were not hers. She could see where Ialari Pythone ended and where Amir Berliotz began. It was all the Forge really needed.

She took two more memories, sharp and jagged like a stalactite, and forced them together with an effort of will. The bigger the chunks, the easier they were to follow around and manipulate. At some point, she even caught glimpses of the very thing she was looking for - Dominion, that is. She saw through Berliotz's eyes as he opened doors onto luscious grasslands too green and under skies too blue to belong in this world. The grass withered and died in his wake, poisoned by his malice.

He had trapped many of his enemies on the other side. He did not even know whether they could actually starve there or be forced to exist pointlessly in that borderless Sea of Grass for untold centuries. He didn't really care either way. He had only been a beginner at the time of his death, having used Dominion as little more than a dumpster and occasional storage area. He hadn't seen his death coming, and thought he had all the time in the world. Overgiving just ripped his body and soul apart one day, and that was the end of his experiments.

Ialari coughed up blood, exhausted, as the entity stepped out of her body, now whole again. Her body was still being rocked by tremors, though those were diminishing already and her heartbeat was getting closer to normal. She had her Isur body to thank for being able to withstand this without rupturing, and her Isur mind for having the willpower to actually forge a man's mind anew.

Speaking of the man, he stood now in front of them, radiating cold ghoulish power. He looked real and vivid enough to be touched, and most observers would be fooled into thinking Berliotz was alive. A thin smile creased his sharp features as he examined Ialari's pained form. "Quite remarkable indeed," he murmured, "you might even be able to live to tell the tale if your organs didn't take too much damage. And I am whole! Whole again!" He balled his hands into fists several times.

"It is time to fulfill my end of the deal," the wizard said, though Ialari knew all too well he wasn't doing this out of any sense of fairness of justice; simply put, he thought the gods would punish her just as hard as they had him with the Big Split (because it must have been the gods, right? Berliotz was just too good in his own eyes to have possibly petched anything up). "There are words involved. Also blood, but you've got more than enough of that dripping off of you."

Ialari had retained enough of Berliotz's memories to know what he was talking about. She remembered his opening of the First Door in his laboratory. "It's a short poem in the Ancient Tongue, actually." He laughed at the notion. "Such an inside joke. We always said the Ancient Tongue had no magic whatsoever in it and we kept drilling that into our students as fact. And at the end of the day, the Ancient Tongue does have a few tricks up its sleeve. No wonder it does - if you were a god wishing to teach magic to some backwards, barely-civilized people of old, wouldn't you adapt to their customs and language at first? No chance of them ever picking anything up if you didn't."

The words started resurfacing in Ialari's mind. There were two parts to the poem, one in the Ancient Tongue and one that seemed to be at the speaker's discretion. The first part was the actual formula, the second was the would-be Domineer's statement of intent. What use the latter served remained to be seen, but Ialari could remember it clearly now. Berliotz had gathered his blood in a bowl and dipped his finger in his own redness. Then, he had painted the rough sketch of a door's lock on the floor with his blood. The keyhole and handle were easily recognizable.

And he had spoken the words as he did so.

"Ruwe q'ala daràq
kèshak simas sutlàs
daeq daeq'vat asag
Rok a'djas abasast!*

Show me to the untamed lands.
I have glimpsed them in the eyes of the dead,
I have craved them in the dreams of the dead,
I have pried them from the fingers of the dead.
So it shall be written,
so it shall be done."

And then he had reached out for the imaginary handle...


* Up and down are the same,
space is the greatest lie,
I make and am made anew,
reborn in my Dominion!

[Ialari Pythone]

Throughout the physical, mental and spiritual torture, Ialari fought with all that was left to remain standing. Her body continued to react to each and every piece of the onslaught as if she were being slashed, bludgeoned and stabbed by a dozen weapons at once. Crackling energy continued to shoot violently into, out of and around her while inside, she struggled to piece together the poison that flowed within. When the first merging of vile memories not her own was complete, Ialari felt a sliver of renewed strength as she reached for another and yet another. A student at the Silver Tower back in the Pitrius Clan Citadel, she was required to pass tests that stretched the limits of her mind, body and faith. She ran countless miles while carrying her own weight in stone upon her back and completed the task while still able to walk. She survived a terrible assault upon her mind by an accomplished isur hypnotist. She even held tightly to her faith as she stepped off the edge of a subterranean cliff; holding tightly to the idea that Izurdin would protect her. Through it all she survived intact. The reforging of a powerful, completely mad and utterly vile soul such as Berliotz caused all other tests to pale in comparison.

Time was no longer hers to comprehend as she fought to separate her own soul from that of Berliotz. Forcing fractured memory after memory back together, Ialari was rewarded with glimpses of the prize that made everything worth the undefinable torment she was enduring. What she saw through the wizard's eyes could only be Dominion. The doors that opened and the sights beyond strengthened her sense of purpose. She saw how Berliotz had wasted the gift of the gods; how he used it as little more than a dump for his unwanted waste. She watched the memories that perhaps even Berliotz couldn't or wouldn't acknowledge. She saw how his body was destroyed; his soul torn free and shattered. He was so sure that he had complete control that he ignored the most basic of lessons that anyone wishing to manipulate djed was taught; know your limits and never give too much.

It was then that Ialari felt an immense weight lift from her very soul and she watched as the invading presence literally stepped out of her. She coughed up more blood; its warm, metallic taste filling her mouth and coating her lips as it dribbled down her chin. She stumbled back a pace against a nearby chunk of stone. Her body still felt as though she were being punched over and over again though the shockwaves slowly diminished.

Ialari looked to Shalla, strangely curious as to how the nuit was handling it all before returning her gaze to the "man" that now stood before them. She was exhausted beyond measure and was losing her battle with gravity as she tried to remain standing. With all that was happening, she couldn't help but want to sleep and then deal with everything else when she woke. Berliotz's voice pulled her attention back to where it was needed however. She had seen what he was and what he had done. He was a blight upon the world, a truly foul wretch; a wretch that unfortunately had what she wanted.

He spoke of fulfilling his end of the deal. Ialari did not trust him. She had seen through his own eyes how deceitful he was. Though if he retained any part of her as she certainly did of him, he would realize that breaking such a deal when Izurdin's name was invoked would not end well; especially so considering the nature of the deal and all that was involved. For now though, she had little choice but to go along with things as she was too weak to offer any resistance.

As he continued to speak, Ialari knew what he was talking about from his memories that she shared. She then remembered the words in the Ancient Tongue that were needed; they came to her as if she herself had spoken them before. Ialari could no longer stand thus she slid down the stone and knelt on the ground. Looking at her hand then to her blood-soaked body, Ialari wiped her hand on herself. Then, with a bloody hand, she began to scrawl a rough sketch of a door's lock on the stone floor; keyhole and handle.

Her throat, though choked with blood, was sore and dry; her words were more of a hiss not so unlike that of a snake as she spoke.

"Ruwe q'ala daràq
kèshak simas sutlàs
daeq daeq'vat asag
Rok a'djas abasast!*

Show me to the untamed lands.
I have glimpsed them in the eyes of the dead,
I have craved them in the dreams of the dead,
I have pried them from the fingers of the dead.
So it shall be written,
so it shall be done."

She then reached for the bloody handle, the meaning of the Ancient words illuminating in her mind:

* Up and down are the same,
space is the greatest lie,
I make and am made anew,
reborn in my Dominion!

[Tarot]

"You didn't have to parrot me," Berliotz said with a smirk, but his voice was washed over by a strange hissing sound coming from the door painted with Ialari's own blood. It was as if pressure was building up, rusty locks coming unhinged after so many centuries, old doorways preparing to flare open once more. Once more. Some stories deserved to be told twice. A beam of pure white light streamed through the central line of blood, piercing the darkness of the Aperture. Perfectly collimated light, shooting up like a thin finger for the monks, for the entire city of Nyka to see. The point steadily grew into a line, and soon the entire painting was bursting with light. And then the door came open in a cascade of shimmering light. All the blood was gone, the rock bottom opening as if it had been a door all alone. The opening was a square of about two feet across, and beneath was a sea of swirling mist. The light was brighter than anything she'd ever seen, brighter than staring at the unobstructed midday sun, yet it did not hurt her eyes in the least. The mist seemed alive, sentient, rife with possibilites. Berliotz was gaping at the sight. This resembled nothing he'd witnessed in his time as a Dominion user. Slowly, a hand emerged from the sea of light. It was clutching a scroll tube which one could assume was made of leather, but at the same time didn't exactly look like leather. At least not common leather. It was a light cream color, with golden finishings and an inscription. Dominion: The New Compact It occurred to Ialari that the hand was unmistakably Isurian. It dropped the scroll tube in the woman's hands and then retracted, sinking once again down into the shimmering mists. Finally, the door closed on its own accord, and the radiance petered out. Now there was only silence, as if the whole world was holding its breath for something to happen. And something did happen. Amir Berliotz snarled. "So that's the way it is?" he growled, furious. "The 'New compact'? A lifetime of labor on my part and all I get is scraps and a curse!? But the little Isur snaps her fingers and her big daddy makes it all okay, changes the petching rules for her!?" His eyes were glowing red, his ghostly face twisting and bulging like something made of melting wax. His voice was losing any human quality it might have had. It was now the harsh moan of wind through cruel caverns. "Tell you what, that tube don't have no names on it." His face split into a monstrous grin as he blinked out of existence for a sliver of a second and reappeared next to Shalla. The Nuit barely registered his presence before the ghost entered her body (of course he didn't try that on Ialari herself; one, she'd withstood him inside her once before, and two, he simply wanted to watch her guts on the floor.) Shalla went to her knees with hardly a moan, and it was Berliotz's voice that echoed from her lips. "Let's see what I can make out of this dead meat..." And just then, Shalla began to morph, arms growing thick and muscular and quickly ripping her robes open. The creature stood up even as it lost any resemblance to the woman who'd inhabited the body up to a moment ago. The face grew a long, raptor-like beak, the hands morphed sharp talons, and two lumps developed from the shoulders that turned into long stalks with stylized replicas of Berliotz's head at their ends, screaming and bickering. The creature, an ashen mass of rotting skin, feathers and scales, lifted its head and emitted a sharp shrill at the moon, exhilarated to finally have a body, after so long.

[Ialari Pythone]

Ialari raised her bloody hand in a vain attempt to shield her eyes from the intense light that erupted from the doorway she had just created only to find that it was not needed. Looking into the open doorway, she felt a renewed sense of purpose from the mist that swirled within. For the moment, her pain and exhaustion was forgotten as the hand slowly emerged from the door of light. The scroll tube held by the hand; the hand of her lord, her divine father, the prize for all that she had endured, drew Ialari to hold out her hands. When the scrolls was given to her, she took it with reverence; the inscription forever to be etched in her mind.

As the door closed and the light faded, Ialari simply held the scroll to her breast and took several labored breaths. She had been personally given a secret from the gods themselves. Her revery however was cut short by Berliotz's hate-voice. Looking quickly from the now absent doorway, Ialari turned her attention back to the ancient mage. Even in her most angry moments, she had never experienced such tangible anger as that which now poured from Berliotz. Her journey to the Aperature was not quite over.

In but an instant, Berliotz had disappeared only to reappear next to Shalla. Ialari winced as the mage violently possessed the nuit's body. Ialari had just experienced an invasion of the most terrible kind by the ghostly mage but moments before; the aftereffects still echoing in her very soul.

As Shalla was quickly replaced by the terrible form of the horrifically morphed, hateful, insanity-filled Berliotz, Ialari couldn't help but feel a tinge of guilt. Shalla had risked much to get Ialari to the Aperature and thus to the secret of Dominion.

As the now monstrous Berliotz raised its terrible gaze to the moon and shrieked, Ialari did her best to swallow the growing fear that threatened to draw her own screams forth. She hadn't the strength left to face such a threat. Her body was broken; barely hanging on. Her mind was still fluttering with the images forced into her by Berliotz's possession.

It was then that those very images that caught her mind's eye; an echo of Berliotz's past. While she tried not to focus on any of the terrible visions, though fading, that Berliotz had passed on to her, this one in particular gave her an idea. Knowing that her demise could very well be eminent, she took that idea and went with it. Berliotz enjoyed watching those beneath him squirm, beg and try to talk their way out of the inevitable. Perhaps he would allow her one last monologue.

Find her voice, dry, pained and tired as it was, she squeezed out a few more words; speaking as loud and clear as she could. "Master Berliotz! Seeing as how it looks like I won't make it out of here alive, allow me a few final words." Wetting her lips with the blood in her mouth, she spoke; hoping she wouldn't be dead before her final words were said.

Shalla! If your still in there, stay with me. I owe you a debt and I mean to repay it. Together, in one body if need be, we will leave this place with the secrets of the gods in our possession! Berliotz, you've been here for how long? In all that time, how many souls have to tortured if only to pass the time? Souls trapped here long before and long after your arrival! As many, you were unstoppable! Yet now you're one! One being now with a physical form!" Ialari spoke quickly, not sure how much time she had left. She didn't know if what she was about try would work or not but she felt there was little else she could do.

Shooting quick glances all around here to the shadows where she knew hundreds of ghostly forms waited in silence; watching and waiting. To them she spoke next. "To you, the souls forever trapped in the ruins of Nyka, I offer you this! Amir Berliotz is the source of your eternal torment, hatred, jealousy, pain and anger. He is the one who now seeks to escape this place while you all suffer forever more. You've seen who I am, you've felt the presence of the gods as they blessed me with their grace. I offer to you now, rise up against the source of your torment, rise up with me against this monster and I will lead you from this place. Join me!" With her stubborn defiance as a sword, her faith as a shield and desperation fueling her, Ialari clenched her teeth, stuffed the scrollcase into her robes and put all she had into standing. She presented herself as a symbol of defiance and faith in the eyes of the hundreds of pairs of ghostly eyes that she knew were watching. How many, if any, would heed her call, she could not be certain. She not only had hope that the souls of the Aperature, however many, would answer, but also that the gods would back her offer and let those who aided her escape as well; she always honored a deal.

[Tarot]

The creature's glossy eyes regarded Ialari with predatory glee. Such a pitiful, broken form, barely able to stand. Not deserving to live, let alone wield the secrets of the Ukalas. It advanced on her with slow, shambling motions, savoring the moment of victory. Well, there had been no treachery, right? There was no deal beyond the terms they'd agreed upon. She'd made him whole. He'd given her the key. A gentleman's agreement. Not his fault that the world was so unfair, was it? His mouth couldn't laugh now, but inwardly he did, marveling at all the nonsense the Isur was spouting. Stupid, silver-tongued thick-armed swine. He'd open up her intestines while she was still speaking, and then he'd strangle her with her own guts. The monster stopped halfway through, something pulling at its foot. It looked down and saw a ghostly hand sticking out of the floor and clutching its ankle. The creature thrashed and stomped repeatedly, letting out more high-pitched shrills, and eventually set itself free for a second or two. Then two more see-through hands grabbed it from below, then two more. Frostbite ate at it where their dead fingers wrapped around skin and scales. Ghosts started pouring up from underneath the Aperture, crowding around Berliotz's monstrous form. Five, then ten... some wearing tattered monk robes, others no clothing at all, some with their bowels trailing after them, some with the mark of the noose on their necks. They were hugging the monster, slowly dissolving it one layer at a time. Not that it was easy or harmless, for they had to turn partly material and the creature was fighting back with all it had, arms flailing around and talons at the ready. Then a single ghost made her way out of the tangle of soulmist and flesh, wiggling herself free with ease. She was tall and blonde, no older than thirty-five human years if that much, with eyes the color of lapis lazuli. Her face was aloof and not without considerable beauty. She wore her hair tied and round spectacles graced her nose. In one hand she was clutching a piece of familiar-looking red ghostly robes. She was decked out in Sahovan robes and looked like a cross between a librarian and a femme fatale. Who'd have guessed Shalla had been a blonde, too. "I got a piece of him," she lifted the patch of red cloth as a trophy and grinned at Ialari. It was from Berliotz's robes beyond a doubt. Her voice may have been a bit different from her previous incarnation, but the mannerisms were exactly the same. "That'll boost me nicely so I won't slip away. His wrath made him careless... possessing someone who's been switching bodies for as long as she can remember. Not smart at all. When you're as dead as me, how you stay dead is a matter of... technicalities." She floated near Ialari. "But we need to get away from here. These folks mean no less hurt to you than to him, and I'm not sure who's going to win. Can you walk?"

[Ialari Pythone]

Ialari gave her speech, unsure of what would happen next though leaning toward the possibility of having her flesh peeled from her bones. Just as she was almost finished speaking, she blinked in surprise. The monstrous form of Berliotz had moved toward her; his intent literally dripping from his twisted form. After a couple of steps, he stopped. Ialari's eyes followed that of the monster down to his feet where ghostly hands reached up from the floor and held him tight. One pair of hands was followed by another then another. As the seconds went by, entire ghostly forms emerged and moved to rip Berliotz apart. A terrible ghostly battle had begun.

Out loud, in a raspy voice, her surprise obvious, Ialari uttered, "By the gods, it worked...kind of."

It was then that she saw the lone ghost step from the spectral chaos. Ialari entertained the thought that the ghost was rather attractive, for a human, especially for a dead one. As the ghost spoke, her movements and mannerisms were quite familiar to Ialari who had spent a good amount of time in close proximity to Shalla. The she-mage displayed willpower that even the human-hating Ialari could respect. Odd as it felt, Ialari took some comfort in knowing that her undead companion was able to "survive" and was at that moment hovering near. Shalla's words cut through the much that still gummed up Ialari's head. The ghosts of the Aperature had suffered too much to really maintain much sanity and their wrath would not be satiated by Berliotz alone. As far as being able to walk, it was almost all Ialari could do to stand. The imminent danger however was more than enough for her to reach deep down and squeeze what little strength remained.

To her ethereal friend, "Never thought death could make someone look so good." Ialari cracked a sly, blood-streaked smile as she took a second to look Shalla from head to toe. "I think I can walk, but where to?" She looked up to the sky; the words of one of the monks echoing in her ears.

"...First Cast at dawn, Second Cast at dusk. Ten chimes each. If you miss your ride you gotta wait till the next Cast."

How long had they been in the Aperature though? Ialari had lost complete track of how much time had passed during the whole experience. "Unless you have an idea, we may have to wait til dawn. Wouldn't happen to know what time it is, would ya?"

[Tarot]

"Nuits are creatures of habit," the woman replied, thoughtfully, "or I might have gotten rid of my body earlier on. To tell you the truth, I was tempted to dissolve and let go, but... we still have work to do. And I want to see Qiao croak before my eyes." Shalla did not seem to mind being a ghost in the least. It certainly suited her sneaky personality; weak at personal magic, she would not be missing those powers in exchange for what she'd gained in the bargain. For one, it would be a lot easier to smuggle her back to Sahova. Drainira would have detected and neutralized any unauthorized ghost in the Citadel, but there was no ironclad Supervisor to make such checks now. Shalla frowned and looked up at the moon, trying to guesstimate the time. Thankfully Astronomy had been part of the standard curriculum for wizards since times immemorial. "Probably two bells till dawn," she muttered, grasping the implications of what Ialari meant. There was no way this distraction could last that long. "Walk anyway, back to where we dropped off the ladder. I'll make dawn come faster." A ghost was flung away by Berliotz's tremendous blow, moaning in ectoplasmic pieces. The battle raged on. Unfettered by her mortal burden, Shalla moved faster now. From her file, Ialari knew she was suspected of being a wizard-spy for various employers before becoming a Mashaen loyalist. The fact had landed her in the torture room to receive Ialari's attentions. Right now, her sluggish husk forgotten, she was probably smelling the good, old times. She urged Ialari to leave the area post haste, before the battle here came to a close. Walking felt like agony to the Isur. Broken bones were the least of her worries; she knew that internal hemorrhage could kill someone bells or days after trauma, and she'd have to live with that knowledge, simply waiting it out. In spite of it all, step after step after step, she could still move on. Even so, the walk was probably cosmic payback for the torture she'd inflicted on others. She had to focus on what was beyond the pain. She knew that if she fell, she'd likely not stand again in time to save herself. It felt so slow, endless. Shalla urged her not to look back and stare at the source of the bestial sounds of ghostly battle. The noise had gotten dimmer by the time they reached the spot they more or less recognized as their drop-down point into the Aperture. The dark silhouette of the bridge was roughly above them. "Wait here, and be prepared to climb," Shalla said. Then, like Berliotz before, she blinked out and reappeared a little distance away, against the rocky wall of the Aperture. Then she blinked some twenty feet above that, working up the wall in flashes of existence. Soon she was out of view, and there was little for Ialari to do but wait and prey. Before two chimes had elapsed, a dark shape fell off the bridge - a monk came down crashing into the pit dangerously close to Ialari. He died instantly in a rather messy way, but she still recognized him as one of the ones who had greeted her on the bridge. As if on cue, the rope ladder was uncoiled and came dangling just feet away from the Isur woman. Now there was the matter of climbing up to safety in her condition. And not being killed on sight by the monks. In the distance, the Berliotz creature gave a terrifying shrill, louder than the ones before.

[Ialari Pythone]

Shalla mentioned a name that Ialari had all but forgotten in the midst of what was happening, Qiao. Acquiring Dominion was only the first step of the grand plan. There was still the matter of returning to Sahova where Ialari planned to somehow remove Qiao from the equation and in turn gain no small amount of influence within the Citadel. There were still great things to be gained from Sahova if she could just escape the Aperature.

Ialari nodded as Shalla said for her to walk back to where the ladder had been released. With each step however, pain shot through Ialari's body. If she were human, she would have been dead by now. Though no expert on internal anatomy, she could feel her broken ribs as they cut short each breath with blades of searing pain. There were even a couple broken toes that served to make her even more unbalanced as she moved. Add to that a couple dislocated joints, ruptured flesh and a number of other yet unidentified yet certainly existing internal wounds and Ialari was obviously forcing her body to obey her commands out of sheer willpower and faith alone.

After a number of agonizing moments that seemed much longer than they were, Ialari arrived at the same place that she had originally entered the Aperature. The sounds of the ethereal battle continued to echo off the walls of the Aperature, acting as a constant reminder to Ialari that something worse than death lie but a short distance away. Then came the word that almost made Ialari cry, "climb". Shalla made the whole idea of climb look easy as she blinked in and out of existence on her way up the side of the Aperature. When Shalla could no longer be seen, Ialari felt a tinge of worry. Her companion could simple vanish and leave Ialari to a unimaginably terrible fate. Ialari then asked herself, wouldn't she do the same thing if the roles were reversed? She had always said she would sacrifice anything in her quest to elevate her people above the wretched disease that was humanity. However she had come so far in such a short amount of time and wouldn't have done so without Shalla.

Shalla, once a human who transcended death to become a nuit. Now a nuit who transcended death to become a ghost. Ialari held no illusion that Shalla continued on for nor did she fully trust the she-mage her yet there was something the woman held on to that was strong enough to defeat death itself. That sort of conviction was something Ialari envied. Shalla was willing to die twice and return for what she wanted, what she believed in. Be it revenge, a chance for greater knowledge and thus a greater existence or simply a refusal to be beaten even by death, regardless of the reasons, Shalla's conviction was respectable. With that respect came Ialari's answer to her own question. Though there were a few disclaimers in the back of her mind, if roles were reversed, Ialari would not leave her comrade behind. Still, Ialari raised her hand to her lips; her black, silver-streaked, blood-covered symbol of Izurdin's grace, and offered a prayer of thanks and request for strength enough to make it out of the Aperature alive.

As if her prayers had been answered as soon as they were said, a dark shape plummeted from above. The height of the fall was enough that when the body struck the stone floor next to Ialari, bones shattered, flesh split and innards spilled and splattered. Ialari recognized the bloody, broken face as belonging to one of the monks who had originally allowed her and Shalla to enter the Aperature. Looking back up, Ialari's eyes opened wide as the rope ladder dropped before her.

A sense of haste was immediately renewed when Ialari heard the sounds of battle behind her change a bit with an especially loud shrill from the monstrous Berliotz. Reaching for the ladder with the only part of her body that wasn't battered and broken, her isurian arm, Ialari did what she could and attempted the climb. Using her good arm to pull herself up, she used her other one, dislocated, probably cracked-bone and bleeding to stabilize her upper body for the climb while her legs, equally battered, held her lower body in place with each step up.

Through the physical and mental anguish that she endured and continued to suffer, through the fear of unspeakable torment and death, through the excitement and indescribable awe at having just been granted a secret lost to all but the gods for ages, Ialari couldn't help but hope that through it all, Izurdin was pleased with her display of strength, endurance and faith. It was for Him and his children, the Isur, that she fought.

[Tarot]

There was none of the natural grace with which she had climbed down the Aperture. Every inch had to be fought over with agonizing pain. The Isur's thick constitution now played against her, and if not for her special, blessed arm it was unlikely she could have made it to the top. She almost dropped the precious scroll tube once, but caught it at the very last moment, knowing it'd be lost forever if she let go of it now. But with each spasm, each jolt of agonizing pain, the sky drew a little closer. Eventually, Ialari felt a strong arm grab her and help her up. It belonged to a monk, but his eyes were glazed over and he spoke quickly. "It's me," said Shalla through the monk's lips. She lifted Ialari over the parapet and, after cutting off the rope ladder with a knife to delay pursuit, secured her on the man's back. The monk set off at an incredible speed considering the weight he now carried. "I'm working him hard, like a horse. He might die of exhaustion later." The words carried no particular hint of pity for the monk's fate whose lips she was speaking through, but Ialari was barely conscious at the time, and it was a true miracle she'd even made it this far. It was not long before oblivion claimed her into its depths. *** Kavlar muttered under his breath, irritated for having drawn Aperture watch three times in a row. He walked off to relieve his comrades and prepared for another eight bells of watching the bridge and occasionally urinating off the parapet (a popular dare among the monks, though a sanctionable offense.) Kavlar would rather be stomping down the streets and making noise. A nice brawl sounded like the right way to start a morning. He squinted through the first rays of dawn at the dusky figure on the bridge. Weren't there supposed to be more people on duty? "Hey, bro," he grunted as he approached the lone silhouette, only to realize it was just a little too big to be human. And that whatever it had on, it wasn't a monk's robe. The figure slowly turned to face the monk. The head was a cross between a human and some kind of eagle, but with entire chunks missing, bite marks and all. The brain was partially exposed. The body was a thick, furry thing, similarly marred and looking frostbitten, with bones protruding. Remains of ghostly hands, severed from whatever they came from, still clung to its limbs. The creature spread reptilian wings, almost Zith-like, as a human head pushed its way out of its belly. "Isur! Die! Isur! Die!" it screamed. Kavlar broke that rule for the last time. *** When Ialari came to, she found herself lying in a spartan, but not too uncomfortable bed. Blankets were drawn over her body. The room was small, but clean looking, and light was streaming through off-white curtains. The smell of disinfectant essences gave this place away as a hospital or infirmary. Ialari's clothes were neatly folded on a chair, with her belongings lying nearby. A single glance reassured that her precious scroll tube had not been taken away, nor did it seem to have been opened or tampered with. Of Shalla there was no trace. The pain was still settling in the Isur's bones, and she felt like she'd taken a stampede on her, but she sensed that the worst was behind her. The noise of approaching footfalls stopped in front of her door. The knob turned and a middle-aged man made his entrance. He didn't look like a monk, but a medicine man, with a long-sleeved apron and a cloth mask before his mouth and nose. His eyes roved quickly and never rested on one place for long, betraying intelligence and curiosity. "Ah, awake at last." he said, taking off the cloth mask, "whatever happened to you, it knocked you out for three full days. How you feeling today? You were lucky we found you when we did. Those internal wounds would have killed you if we hadn't treated them. It was like you'd taken your very own little Valterrian in your body. Very little showing on the outside, but a mess inside. Never seen anything like that before except perhaps in a couple Flux overgivers, but your kind has a thing against that magic. Try moving your limbs around. Slowly." The medic walked towards the window and drew the curtains open, letting more light into the room. "Also, there's people waiting for you to wake up. Methinks they want to question you. Things have been brutal ever since you showed up here, you know... well, more brutal than the norm. Fifteen murders in three days is a lot even by our standards, and none of them pretty. Then you get dropped on our doormat with those strange wounds... People have to wonder."

[Ialari Pythone]

What happened as she ascended the ladder as well as when she reached the top was blurred by the physical and mental blades that stabbed and sliced, cut and flayed Ialari in ways that few mortals ever experience and live to remember. Ialari heard the words spoken by the monk which sent no small amount of confusion crackling through her still recovering mind. When Shalla revealed herself to be the one controlling the monk, Ialari could barely nod an acknowledgement as she allowed herself to be picked up and carried. She had endured so much; her mind an body withstanding an onslaught that would destroy most humans and cripple those that survived. At that moment, when her strength was gone and her hatred was muted, only her faith kept her alive. There was no stopping the darkness as it crept its way into her mind. As unconsciousness took her, Ialari didn't have the desire left to fight it.

The sound of footsteps echoed off the walls of the corridor as Ialari made her way to her laboratory. She didn't know how but it was a path she knew almost by instinct. The air around her was cool and rather stale; a tinge of decay hanging about. As she approached the laboratory door, she gained more realization that she was dreaming. Even so, she found only a slight amount of control over her own actions as she gestured to the door with her hand. A simple release of magic caused the wooden door to crack open and gently swing in. Ialari noted that she was dressed in red robes and not her usual black alchemist robes. Stepping inside the laboratory, Ialari took in more the sight of her surroundings. The chamber was large yet not overly so. There were numerous glyphs adorning the walls in specifically chosen areas while a series of circles were drawn in unique patterns on the floor. Tables held a variety of beakers, dishes, bottles and bowls holding a wide selection of liquids, gels and powders. A magecrafting pedestal dominated one corner of the chamber complete with a number of tools and reagents.

What caught Ialari's attention most however was man suspended in the center of the chamber from a set of chains hung from the ceiling that actually pierced his flesh and fused to the bone. He was human, nude, no more than 20 years of age. His body was stained with dried blood and covered in strange looking sores. As Ialari entered the chamber, the man opened his eyes, fear instantly filling them. Ialari causally made her way over to him. The man attempted to cry out but his tongue had long since been burned to a stub. Ialari felt as though she was mostly along for the ride as the dream continued. She recognized the architecture of the corridor and the laboratory as belonging to Sahova. The red robes she wore clued her into the fact that she must be reliving one of the memories Berliotz had forced into her mind. Immediately Ialari wanted to wake up yet the dream would not allow it.

She felt herself smiling at the man as he tried to cower away from her. Reaching over to the nearby table, Ialari took a dish of some foul-smelling black ooze and a scalpel then turned back to the man. With another motion of her hand, the chains that held him tightened and pulled upward, lifting the man from his feet and leaving him to hang limply about a foot from the floor. His struggles then became ever more futile and he eventually allowed himself to simply hang. With the dish in own hand, Ialari dipped the scalpel into the ooze. Stirring the scalpel in the ooze for a moment, she pulled it free. Strings of slimy goo pulled taught then broke as she moved the scalpel from the dish to the flesh of the man's chest. Though the man tried once more a bit of struggling, it was of no use; his strength was not there.

Ialari pushed the blade of the scalpel to the man's flesh and parted it. The cut was not deep though the flesh separated quite easily as she pulled the blade down roughly four inches from the center of the man's chest. As blood begin to well up around the wound, the ooze on the blade caused a reaction. Immediately, every blood vessel, vein and artery in the man's body turned black as the poison of the ooze streaked through his body. His muscles seized up and if he had a tongue, he would have bit it off. Ialari stepped back and observed it all as if studying the effects. A few minutes passed as Ialari watched the man's body seemingly struggle to fight off the toxins yet in the end, he could no longer withstand it and died hanging there from the ceiling. From the wound as well as from the many open sores that decorated the man's body, black, poison-tainted blood dripped onto the floor; a floor with specially designed channels meant to collect such things for further study.

Turning back to the table, Ialari set the bowl and scalpel down and then proceeded to examine the rest of the items on the table. One such item was a bowl of liquid that had a reflective surface. Dipping a ladle into the liquid, Ialari caught sight of a face looking back at her; a reflection. Instantly she felt herself in a free-fall. The lab was gone as was everything in it. She was now falling, face-up, into a seemingly endless hole. Her senses were in chaos as if her body were trying to pull itself together after being shattered into a thousand pieces. What was only dull, numb feeling before was now quickly turning into pain. Finally, the darkness began to vanish as it was replaced by light. The last thing Ialari remembered before she woke was the face that stared back at her in the reflective liquid. It was not the face of Berliotz that she had expected. It was her own.

When she opened her eyes, the images from the dream were already fading. Looking around, Ialari immediately realized that she was no longer dreaming; the pain being a strong reminder of that. She was in a rather comfortable bed and it looked like someone had even tucked her in as one would a young child. Wherever she was, it was clean and comforting although the smell in the air reminded her of a philtering lab. Her gaze shot immediately around the room coming to rest on the scrollcase. The rest of her things were there as well. Shalla however was not present, at least not in the room Ialari was currently in. Where the... She wasn't able to finish the thought before she heard someone at the door.

The man who opened the door and entered the room took Ialari somewhat by surprise. His appearance was obviously that of a healer of some sort. Her distaste for humans was for the moment replaced by satisfaction that at least she had been tended to by someone who may know something of what they were doing. Even in her weakened state, he was no threat to her even if his appearance and posture hadn't been so non-threatening. She took the news of being out for three days in stride. Time however was something she was still struggling with after her encounter with Berliotz. His memories continued to blur her own to some extent whenever she tried to focus her thoughts. Hearing that she almost died from her wounds, while not surprising considering how she felt the last time she had been conscious, brought a bit of respect to her for the man now standing before her.

At his instruction, Ialari tried to move before speaking. She wiggled her toes first, bandaged as they were. There was a dull pain where they had been broken but it was tolerable. She then pulled herself into a more sitting position and raised her arms one by one. The pain was still there albeit muted. She looked at her belly as she ran her fingers over the flesh. Where her skin has split open from the force of Berliotz's invasion, it was now smooth in places, still stitched in others with a thread or two. Overall, she looked like she had been in a slight scuffle; if only she felt that well. Looking back up to the man, she cleared her throat and said, "I'm...feeling better." She was partially honest. The truth was that, while physically better, she had to concentrate a little on focusing her mind to form cohesive thoughts that were her own while pushing out the echoes of Berliotz.

"Thank you sir, for your aid. I...I didn't expect to wake again." He was starting to ask questions that Ialari didn't think she could answer. The truth of what happened to her was not something easily believed and could in fact bring greater danger to her if revealed. No, she would have to keep some things quiet even if this man had saved her life. When the man walked over to the window and opened the curtains, the light, while not overly bright, was more than she would have liked at that moment. Shielding her eyes from the brightness, she allowed her eyes to adjust a bit. People waiting for her with more questions? That certainly couldn't mean anything good. Add to that murders and the fact people who may think that she either had something to do with it all or at the very least, survived and now could talk about it. Quickly she tried to piece together something to say that would not only buy her time to sort things out but perhaps give her an advantage of some sort. The murders could only mean that Berliotz escaped. Surely he had to be hunting her as she seriously doubted he would let go of something as precious as Dominion.

"I...I came to Nyka while on the hunt for a terrible monster. It was responsible for great harm to some of my friends. I tracked it here..." She had to keep her story straight. There were gate guards who knew she entered the city. There were people who she had passed on her way to the Aperature. With something as brutal as so many murders in such a short amount of time coinciding with her arrival at the healer and her wounds, she had to keep things in line. "I had reason to believe it fled to the Aperature. I and a colleague descended and found it. There was a battle, she was killed." Ialari stammered a bit as to add some emotion to the words. She knew that somewhere, Shalla "lived" although it was best if she kept that truth quiet. "I wounded it. I bought myself just enough time to climb out of the Aperature. I remember a monk at the bridge offering me a hand up but I the pain was too much. I blacked out only to awaken here. If indeed the monster I fought escaped the Aperature, nobody is safe. It is a murderous beast of terrible potential that must be stopped. That's...all I know really of what happened and what may be going on now. I need help stopping this thing." Ialari knew she could not stop Berliotz on her own. An ancient wizard of untold power, even in his current state, was a threat that she couldn't hope to overcome without help. Hopefully these humans could be of some use in that task.

True to her isurian lack of modesty, Ialari sat up and gently pulled the covers away. Reaching, carefully while still getting used to moving after having been asleep for so long, for her robes, Ialari began to prepare herself to meet whoever awaited outside.