Alptraum's time in Rephidim was very short; he had been provided with a disguise to make his fur a shade of brown, and his hair a shade darker than that, suggesting the coloration of his adoptive father, though his benefactors could find nothing to do for his eyes. Autumn-Storm was provided with a far less impressive disguise, simply being re-dubbed "Rose-Petal," and given a very curly, frizzy look to her hair and clothes of a different style – looking more like a city-dweller than a rugged traveler of Nordikan roads and the high seas.

Escape from Rephidim, all in all, was uneventful, making use of an airship ferrying tourists to the surface. No one challenged Alptraum's identity, and certainly nobody mistook him for a female blind black-furred white-haired Eeee with scarred wings being slipped out of the city. From Rephidim, Alptraum was taken to Safar, a city in the equatorial nation of Xenea, positioned on a river delta, and far warmer than any place Alptraum had been to before.

For a few days, Alptraum had been kept hidden away in a house in Safar, though "Rose-Petal" was allowed considerably more freedom to come and go as she pleased. This worked out to Alptraum's benefit, for he soon realized that his hosts had no idea he was a vampire – and "Rose-Petal" took it upon herself to fetch him some "snacks" while on her forays into the outside world, rather than forcing him to break the news to his hosts.

There have been no more strange dreams since the event in Rephidim, and despite all that has happened, Alptraum's sleep has been less troubled than it had ever been since those incidents back on Reckoning Day. That, of course, presumes nothing about the contents of his waking thoughts, since he has been kept in secret and kept in the dark about exactly what is going on, and what's to be done with him, and when. He's not exactly had much to do, though his hosts seem to have at least been sympathetic enough that just the day before, a great many books were brought in and used to stock the formerly empty bookshelf standing next to the door.

Then, this morning, he wakes to a knocking at the door.

The Secret Suite
In some ways, this room seems a little cottage of its own. It has a bed in one corner, a wash tub, a chamber pot, a stone fireplace and a wooden cabinet with chitin pots, various dry foods and "silverware", a desk, a bookshelf stocked with a great many works of fiction and travelogues and maps, mostly in Rephidim Standard, some in a spidery-looking script of an unknown tongue, and some in the curving, sweeping lines of Babelite. A closet holds spare bed sheets, spare towels, and even such niceties as soap and fur oil. There is only one window, small enough that even in the daytime, a candle or lantern is necessary for reading, though it is only cool enough to be able to bear the fireplace at night.

The Savanite maid, Bell-Song, occasionally comes to change the sheets, empty the chamber pot, and do other mundane chores, but never so early, and "Rose-Petal" makes her deliveries (and takes the "leftovers") through the window. The room on the other side of the door is a storeroom for the servants, and this room but another chamber in a small manor that must have once been some noble's home-away-from-home in Safar, though now it serves as an upscale inn for wealthy tourists – and from the outside, Alptraum's window and fire stack just seems to be yet another in a long row of rooms that serve as housing for the servants. (They just don't happen to have entrances disguised as sliding supply shelves.)

Alptraum sits up from where he reclines on the bed and slowly unfurls his wings from around his body. Normally, he'd be pacing the floor, or doing push-ups, or some other form of exercise to just burn off energy. While it has helped, the feeling of being trapped – imprisoned, had begun to get to him. Even being free of the dreams isn't as welcome as he once thought. Is he back to normal? Or are those bizarre carvings perhaps preventing him from contacting Sunala's realm. Or is it something else entirely? Magic just isn't his forte. He's not even sure if his dreams are a form of magic, in all honesty. "If it's that maid, I'm going to ask her to bring my host to see me. I want to know how long I'm to be kept here. I don't know if I can last much longer, ugh. Caging a gypsy – bad idea." he thinks, then calls out, "Come in."

With a click and a soft schuss of polished wood sliding against polished wood, the door pulls out and open, revealing Bell-Song, the Savanite maid who has been – aside from the surreptitious visits of "Rose-Petal" – Alptraum's only visitor for the past three days, though this is the earliest stop by yet.

"You're early today," Alptraum signs, then swings his legs off the bed and stands. "Good thing, because I'd like you to find my host and ask her, or is it a him? In either case, to stop by. I want to know how long I'm to be a prisoner."

"You are not a prisoner," the Savanite signs. "In fact, I am here to tell you that Rephidim has passed on now, and the Rephidimites are leaving. It is safe now for you to leave when you are ready."

A grin on the Eeee appears moments later. He hurries about the room and gathers his belongings, rather glad to have so few of them. "Wonderful. You don't have to tell me twice. Am I to meet with anyone, or am I just free to go where-ever?" he asks in sign.

The Savanite watches the Eeee as he goes about, and, when there is an opportune moment that he is facing her, she signs, "I am to tell you that your sister is staying at the Running River Inn. Beyond that, I know nothing more, and I am not to learn anything further from you as to your business here. The people who turned you over to us are very jealous of their secrets, and we do not wish to offend them."

"Don't worry. I don't know anything either," He signs in reply. "I do appreciate you hiding me, then. I wasn't sure if I was a prisoner, or here for safety. Have you seen my companion about? I'll need to meet up with her, then I suppose my sister."

"I have not seen the one who was with you since you were brought here. I suppose she is somewhere in the city," Bell-Song signs.

Alptraum nods and signs, "/Thanks anyway." He slips his crossbow onto his shoulder and checks around once more to make sure he hasn't forgotten anything. He then heads over to the door, looking quite glad to be leaving the room. He pauses and looks over at the Savanite and signs, "/Can you at least give me directions to the Running River Inn?/"

"Certainly," Bell-Song signs. "First, take the alley out of here, turn right, and … "

Alptraum's trip here was uneventful, though he did have a few problems with the directions and had to backtrack a few times to check out turns he'd accidentally missed. Along the way, he finds no sign of Autumn-Storm, a.k.a. Rose-Petal. It's still morning when he reaches the inn, and there are several individuals in the main room, having breakfast.

"Will have to look for Autumn-Storm after I meet up with Nekara. At least, I guess this is Nekara. Autumn-Storm did mention another 'sister'," he thinks as he enters the inn. He takes a moment to look about the main room, trying to see if he recognizes anyone.

There is a rather wide selection of species, though quite a number of them … are reptiles! Some of them look exactly like serpents and lizards and toads and newts from Sylvania, only wearing bits of jewelry and sometimes more appreciable amounts of clothes. (Even the unclothed ones, well, they look like lizards, so there's nothing too shocking about it.) There are also a goodly number of the spotted Savanite folk as well. There is only one Eeee to be seen, however, adorned in white voluminous and obscuring robes. When he looks that way, however, he sees a pair of light-colored eyes peer back at him from underneath the hood, a hint of black fur and white hair.

Alptraum lazily makes his way over to the cloaked individual, trying not to look too conspicuous about it. He can't help but look around the room as he walks; he's never seen talking lizards before and find it rather fascinating.

One of the lizards with strange "telescoping" eyes and a skin that seems to change color to match whatever furniture he's touching at the moment … returns Alptraum's look, with one eye-stalk moving to follow him.

The woman at the table makes no move to acknowledge Alptraum's presence, though with his keen hearing, he can pick up a faint, "Go ahead and take a seat."

Alptraum pulls out a chair and sits down, spreading his wings some to avoid sitting on them. His head bobs slightly as he does so, as if acknowledging the statement. He continues to look around the room some, trying to appear as just another tourist. However, his gaze going back to the hooded figure now and then in hopes of getting a better look underneath that hood.

"I hope they treated you well," the woman whispers, recognizably in Nekara's voice.

The rest of the main room continues to buzz with the chatter of breakfast diners, and the faint sounds of hand-drums, wooden chimes, and some sort of flute-like instrument being played by a couple of Savanite musicians. There are no other Eeee – or other species Alptraum knows to have exceptional hearing – so it seems that a whisper should suffice for privacy for now.

Alptraum nods and whispers back, "Very well. Autumn-Storm snuck by now and then to make sure I had food I could eat. Glad to be out of there, though, I really don't like being trapped in one place for too long. I didn't want to keep you waiting, so I came here before finding Autumn-Storm to let her know I'm out. I have a few interesting things to tell you, but it can wait until later. I hope you are well?"

Nekara nods, still keeping her voice low as she replies, "We were able to rescue her. I accompanied the Body, and saw my Sister and the one who was captured off to an airship bound for Babel. There were a great many complications, and I am sorry for losing track of you."

Alptraum shrugs. "There was a lot going on. Nothing to be sorry for," he whispers. "I was caught almost twice up there. They knew where I was, and sent people after me. I woke up just in time. Not exactly like dealing with brigands, but, living in Sylvania helped some. I know how to run." He grins slightly after the last sentence. "I must be really 'loud', considering how fast they converged on the house I was staying at."

Nekara shakes her head. "I should have thought things through better. If we were even thinking of using you for a decoy, the implication would be that they might be able to sense you. I was foolish. We will have to be more careful. We should not be in any great danger here, though – the College Esoterica does not have a strong hold here. The shamans in these parts are Savanites, and are not recognized by the College as legitimate mages, so we have little danger of them having an interest in finding one such as you, and turning us over."

"They thought I was a Yodh. Rather funny, really," Alptraum comments quietly. "Got to meet the Babelite Ambassador while running. Interesting fellow. If all males are like him, I must really be different … One such as me? What do you mean?"

Nekara says, "What I mean is, I don't think anyone is specifically looking for you, or the one we rescued in Rephidim, or anyone else with a 'link' to the Realm."

"Ah, okay," Alptraum replies with a nod. "By the way – good to see you. I was worried about you," He says, then asks quietly, "So, did my aura match hers? Is that how they tracked me so quickly?"

Nekara shakes her head. "I cannot be certain. I do not think we would be able to find out without first finding some mage willing to tell us – and that, I am sure, would not happen except under extreme duress."

"And I'd rather not try and catch one of them, anyway. If it means anything, I heard the mages in a dream, they called me an anomaly," Alptraum mutters.

"Well, that wasn't terribly polite of them," Nekara says, dryly. "I wouldn't expect any better from them, however. They seemed to think that … the one we rescued was not a real person at all, but rather … a physical manifestation of a spirit." By now, Alptraum has started to notice something a bit nervous about Nekara's voice and composure whenever she refers to "the one that was rescued."

"Tell me about her, the one rescued. Are her eyes like mine, silver?" Alptraum inquires. "In my dreams, she looked so much like I do … well, did."

"No, her eyes are different," Nekara says, sounding like she's choosing her words carefully. She takes a breath, then says, "She has no pupils. No irises. She's blind."

Alptraum nods, expression held unreadable even though disappointment ripples through him. "That probably explains the thing I heard about Sunala manifesting herself there, then. Heard that from the Ambassador." He pauses, then adds, "The little girl knew I came for her. I contacted her only briefly that night. I'm glad she's okay and I hope I get to meet her."

"You will get to meet her in time," Nekara says. "But it is not only the Ambassador that thinks such a thing. Sister Sukara would indicate that Sunala Herself has manifested. I … am having difficulty understanding how this may be, but I am obedient to my superiors."

"You should never stop questioning, though. I probably know this little Eeee more than any of you, we've talked many times in dreams. She doesn't impress me as the manifestation of Sunala," Alptraum replies with a shrug.

Nekara nods, for the moment having nothing to say on this.

"She told me she was no one important, in fact," Alptraum comments, then chuckles. "She said I was, though. Someone, anyway, since I made it past the wraiths. Though I don't know. My link to that realm or whatever it was seems to have gone."

Nekara frowns. "You are not the only one. The dreams have disappeared. I have heard reports. The … " She sighs and shakes her head. "That is not all that has happened. High Princess Saraizadze … is dead."

Alptraum blinks, stunned. "I… " he stammers, "… had a dream of her, I think, the night you rescued the girl."

Nekara says, "I did not witness it myself, but there were many who had another shared dream of the Dream Realm. In it, High Priestess Saraizadze was performing a ritual, and was going to slay a representation of the Olympian god of dreams, Morpheus. I do not know his significance, save that Olympia is the birthplace of the College Esoterica, and a strong influence on the culture of Rephidim. There was a mage, a winged Exile with wings of white and gold, who had been the Avatar of Inala for a time, known as Envoy of Lothrhyn, who sought to defend this god, and a poodle Gallee on a winged Drokar who fought with the Sabaoth's Seven, and slew the High Princess. It seems that as the High Princess was slain in her dream, so too did she die in the physical realm."

Alptraum nods and says, "I think that's the dream I had." He shakes his head slowly, then adds, "Now what do we do? Babel must be in chaos now. Is there anything we can do?"

"Sukara is taking … Sunala back to Babel," Nekara says. "I believe the intent is for Her physical manifestation to instill some order in the city, with the loss of the High Princess. I do not know how safe it will be to go there directly. I still intend to return there with you, but … this changes so much. Babel… " Nekara shakes her head. "Babel has been smitten by the 'sky gods' yet again. I cannot bear the … indignity."

Alptraum reaches over and places a hand upon Nekara's shoulder. "You're not bearing it alone, my sister. Those 'sky gods' tried to kill me, for no reason other than being what I am," he says, tone serious. "We'll help Babel somehow. I know I've waffled off and on about going, but that's different now. Here I've been a jerk and yet you've continued to look out for me – Left Wing died trying to warn me when the guards came. I owe it to you and to Left Wing to help in any way I can." He pauses, thinking for a moment. "Do you remember about the necromancer I was pursuing?"

Nekara nods. "Yes … yes, I remember him. And, no, I do not think that the Khatta from Sri – Sunala's dream was him. That was some other Rephidimite mage, though I am unclear as to his exact identity."

"That's not what I was thinking. What I was thinking is that we need to get the link back to the realms. Remember when I told you that necromancer stole a 'dream' pendant?" Alptraum says.

The Yodhsunala nods at this. "Yes, I recall that."

"Not that I know anything about such items, but perhaps it can help force the link back so we can find out what severed it. It's just a thought at a place to start. You said other Yodhsunala may be able to help find the one we were chasing – I think we should to go to Babel," Alptraum says firmly. "Even if it's a blind chase, I want to do something."

Nekara nods. "I've put in some word with some contacts. If you can stay a few more days in Safar, I'll have a ride for us out of here – though the first leg of our journey will be by sea, rather than by air. We're going to one of the Paquebots, and from there, we'll take an airship the rest of the way. That should draw far less attention than getting a flight all the way to Babel from here."

Alptraum nods and says, "I'll do whatever is necessary to get there. If we have to stay longer, so be it. Perhaps the extra time may give us a chance to think of things we can do when we get there." He pauses for a moment, then adds, "Now … are you going to be okay? I know you don't like showing any sort of emotion, but, I know you're upset. I'm your brother, you can talk to me, okay?"

Although her eyes are largely obscured by her hood, her mouth still forms into a faint but not very convincing smile. "Do not trouble yourself. My concerns are not so complex. I weep for Babel, for being shamed once again at the hands of those who would subdue all of Sinai for their own glory. But that has happened before … and we shall overcome."

"And be all the stronger for it," Alptraum adds. "I cannot ignore when my sister is hurting. Complex or not, it's still important – it's not a trouble for me to be concerned."

"Tch," the Yodhsunala says. "I appreciate your concern, but it is not the way of the Yodhsunala to fill the air with many more words than are necessary. When I see you safely in Babel, and find out what plan the Lady has for our city, then I will worry no more. But until then, I am merely troubled by the many obstacles that still lie before us."

"How old are you?" Alptraum asks out of the blue.

"That is hardly a question to ask of a Yodhsunala. You would do well not to ask that," Nekara says.

Alptraum huffs. "Fine. That answers my question, anyway," he replies with a shrug.

"You want to push away someone concerned, that's your choice. It won't stop people worrying," Alptraum then says. "I'm going to look for Autumn-Storm. Come or stay, your call," he says, then stands.

Nekara says, "I'll stay. And you really should learn to respect the privacy of someone's thoughts. If I am in great need of unloading all my thoughts and worries upon you, I shall accept your offer – but that you act so when I refuse greatly cheapens the value of your offer. Go. Find your friend. I will see to it that you have a place to stay here when you return."

Alptraum shrugs. 'Family' they may be, but they're still from vastly different worlds. He turns and heads toward the door.

Alptraum's exploration has taken him to areas that look the most like a merchant area where a pickpocket might frequent … in other words, where he might find "Rose-Petal" (a.k.a. Autumn-Storm). This seems as likely a place as any, though so far he hasn't seen any sign of the cheetah … though a great many other Savanites who looked a great deal like her, frustrating his efforts all the more.

A rather frustrated Alptraum makes his way through the merchants and folk. Often, he ends up apologizing to folks he accidentally bumps into or to Savanites he mistakes for Autumn-Storm. HE lets out a sigh and runs his hand through his hair, thinking, "Where is she?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Alptraum notices a Savanite looking at him – and it occurs to him that he's seen this Savanite before, though heretofore it would be hard to be absolutely certain, what with the severe similarities amongst many Savanites to Alptraum, since he's only spent time with one of them for any appreciable time. Her hair is dark and worked into multiple braids that run down her hair, with beads of many colors worked in. Her garb is made of layers of diaphanous fabric, and beads form bracelets on her wrists and anklets on her digitigrade legs, and an elaborate necklace resting on her nape. Another fold of diaphanous material drapes about her shoulders, forming a shawl that half-veils the lower portion of her face. Amber eyes stare at the Eeee from across the street.

Alptraum's eyebrow goes up and he starts toward that Savanite. Is this her? She sure looks familiar. But, to be safe, he cants his ears in her direction and listens, trying to focus in on just her and detect her breathing pattern. Sight and sound might prove to be somewhat helpful.

As Alptraum focuses on the Savanite, he sees her hand subtly curl in a "come here" gesture … and then, with movements that are at once fast, yet somehow not seem rushed or forced, she disappears into one of the side alleys from the street.

Alptraum doesn't like this. Something isn't right. Still, he continues on and once he reaches the alleyway, peers down it, listening.

The alley seems largely deserted. At its mouth are a few baskets and casks that have been piled there, using the alley for overflow storage for some of the nearby booths … and some of the containers to be found in the alley reek of refuse.

It is also an especially dark alleyway, as the buildings close in tightly, and the sun is still low to the horizon, what with it being early morning still.

"Ever feel like you're walking into a trap? Oh, like right now," Alptraum mutters to himself. He starts sounding out the alleyway and enters it slowly. He also slips his crossbow off his shoulder and starts to cock the top crossbow. It sure looked like Autumn-Storm, but why would she come in here?

As Alptraum walks into the alleyway, he notices that the sounds of the street lull quickly, as the walls seem to serve well to shut out the noise of the outside. The light grows more dim, as a large cloud rolls overhead. Something scuttles in the shadows … a vermite, foraging for garbage, peers at Alptraum with glinting eyes, then vanishes into a crack in the wall.

Alptraum almost jumps at the sound of the vermite, then lets out a breath. Yes, he's feeling quite jumpy. Onward he goes, continuing his sounding of the alleyway.

The sounds that come back to Alptraum's ears sound wrong somehow. Oh, the walls are there, yes, but the echoes … seem more appropriate for being in an enclosed room, rather than an alleyway open to the sky, however narrow. Or perhaps it's just a severe case of the creeps that's coming over him. He feels a shiver up his spine, and even a momentary cool breeze that wafts down the alleyway seems more intimidating than comforting.

"This is so wrong," Alptraum says. "Forget it." The Eeee starts backing out, quickly.

As Alptraum turns about, he sees the cheetah woman standing behind him. No, it's not Autumn-Storm. Autumn-Storm's eyes don't glow like that. She waves her hands about, and even without focusing on them, Alptraum can "feel" the signs. "Greetings, child of a foreign god."

Alptraum raises the crossbow shakily in one hand. His other signs back, "Who are you? What do you mean child of a foreign god?"

"You are a child of Sunala, are you not?" the cheetah half signs, half-projects to Alptraum.

"I don't know what I am," Alptraum signs. "My mother was a follower of Sunala, but I … I never knew her. I've only recently met other followers. The one I know doesn't quite know much about me – or won't tell me."

"Poor, poor, lost child," comes the response from the cheetah. "But you still lack manners. It is not silver that will harm me, but I will take grave offense if you mean to fight me on my land."

Alptraum lowers the crossbow. "I'm not here to fight anyone. I'm just looking for my friend and I'm terrified," Alptraum signs.

"As well you should be," the cheetah responds. "I serve Dusk-Hand, the Dark Lady of the People." This word for "People" is really just the same sign for "Savanite," though the way the sign feels to Alptraum seems to emphasize a rather species-centric interpretation. "Whom do you serve?"

"Myself and my friends," Alptraum answers, not really knowing any other way to answer that.

"And who are your friends?" the cheetah returns.

"Hexen, a black fox whom I have not seen for some time. My adoptive parents, whom I have also not seen for some time. Autumn-Storm, a Savanite who has been through a lot with me and I care for. She taught me your language. As for one other, I don't know if she is or not – Nekara, one of the followers of Sunala. I've tried to get to know her, but she blocks me at every attempt," Alptraum replies honestly.

Just then, the Savanite's eyes dart to one side of Alptraum. Her hand quickly flicks in a sign of, "Get him!" and several bodies jump into motion, which Alptraum somehow had completely failed to notice sneaking up on him while his attention was focused on the cheetah in front of him.

Alptraum reacts too late and realizes it. He turns to face those about to jump him and all he finds time to do is should a few selective words high-pitched, in Sylvanian.

It's impossible to count just how many black-garbed spotted cats leap out of the shadows to assault Alptraum. "Overkill" is the operative word here. He feels something hard impact his skull … and then the lights go out…

When Alptraum comes to, his surroundings are definitely changed. He also feels a lot lighter. As he manages to get a better idea of his surroundings, he finds that he's strapped down quite securely to a stone slab that is positioned at a roughly 45 degree angle off the horizontal, and he is wearing an ill-fitting white gown of some sort of scratchy fabric. Funny … isn't this the sort of outfit that virgin sacrifices always get stuck in when Captain Dash comes to rescue them from Sinai's endless supply of evil cultists? This gives a whole new perspective on the ordeal, for sure.

Sacrificial Chamber of Dusk-Hand
Walls of stained stone reek of mold and incense, blood and smoke. The structure seems very plain, as sacrificial chambers might go, devoid of fancy stonework or mind-numbing proportions, but still large enough to house an appreciable audience of cultists that may gather to watch the sacrificial slab atop the stage. Channels in the slab run down toward a bowl-like depression in the raised dais, and thick chitin braziers flare up with scented coals that fill the air with a strong sickly sweet scent that sends the mind reeling. Painted on one wall in dry, crackled blood is the image of a Savanite woman with cruel features, with one upraised hand engulfed by a cloud of darkness.

An audience of black-clad felines (or, one might presume they're felines) is gathered about the chamber, perched on stairways leading up to the ceiling, or in the recessed area before the stage, or in the various nooks about the chamber. Here and there, some of the blocks on supporting columns have been crudely chipped away to roughly suggest impish creatures with vaguely feline but monstrous features, clasping little bowl-shaped braziers, from which flame and smoke emits.

The exact features of the room seem somewhat blurry and distorted, and Alptraum is uncertain for how long he has been out. His grogginess seems more than simply a good blow to the head; rather, he feels as if he may have been treated to some sort of mind-altering substance that may have kept him under for much longer.

There is another slab, Alptraum notices, also on the stage, facing his, and likewise angled with a bowl depression before it. The prisoner on this particular slab is a poodle Gallee, who looks absolutely absurd in the gown he's been stuck in, his fur still having a look of being very powdered and – by the faint smell – heavily perfumed. "Let me go this instant!" he yaps. "I'm the son of a very important official, and if I tell him what you've done to me, you'll all be in a great deal of trouble, let me assure you!"

Alptraum groggily tries to move, but finds it rather unsuccessful. He then tries get a better bearing on his surroundings as a feeling of utter dread creeps into his stomach. They took him because of who he's supposed to be. Perhaps they think sacrificing a 'child of a god' will bring more power to theirs. Most would probably scream, like the Gallee, but the Eeee says simply and sadly, "Why?"

Despite the yapping of the poodle, who continues to protest, the priestess smiles, and leans over Alptraum. "Because," she signs, her signs still projecting to him even when he can't totally see them clearly, "you have great power, that the Hand will draw from you. It will make us greater, and it will make our Mistress greater. You will serve our Mistress, so that, when enough life force is collected, Eternal Night shall fall upon the land, and we shall go forth to conquer and claim in Her name."

"I have no power," Alptraum protests. "I'm a nothing, a nobody. I bear no ill to your kind – one of your kind means a great deal to me."

The priestess shakes her head. "At the very least, you have as much power as this wretch," she signs, gesturing toward the poodle. "And if it is no more than that … then we have at the very least another sacrifice for our Mistress. But I think you offer more. You shouldn't be so humble in your final moments." She then claps her hands together, and holds up one hand, fingers outspread. A gong sounds, and a slow, rhythmic clap begins amongst those watching, slowly picked up by all of the cultists, louder, more insistent, more demanding…

"If I HAD power, I wouldn't be here!" Alptraum screams in his mind. "Don't you understand!? I don't even know my own name. I'm so hated by my own kind they sent me away," Alptraum says, voice growing a bit more frantic.

The priestess's ears wiggle, her face bearing a cruel expression. "Then we are doing you a favor, now aren't we?"

A female cultist comes forth, bearing something solid and lumpy covered by a black cloth. There's a strange effect Alptraum notices … that the air around this other cultist seems darker, as if a hazy mist is following her.

Alptraum's lips pull back in a snarl. "Just because I have no home, doesn't mean I want to die," Alptraum says. "I am not bound by my birth. I chose my own path. I am who I chose to be, not what others think I should be."

The female cultist reverently sets her cloth-wrapped package down on a pedestal next to the priestess, then walks backward, bowing, not turning her tail on the priestess or the pedestal. The priestess casually walks over to the pedestal and draws away the cloth. Immediately, the area around Alptraum seems to darken even more…

On the pedestal is a hand fashioned of dark crystal, though there are veins of light that run through it. It is surrounded by a halo of darkness, somehow seeming to draw all light into itself, feeding off of it, pulsating with borrowed life.

All of Alptraum's muscles tense up, anger building. He's tired of being judged by his birth. If he's going to die here, he's not going to allow them the satisfaction of him begging. He glares at the crystal, wondering what horrid device this is.

It is segmented, made up of many pieces for the various joints, and has the appearance of being hollow. This is further demonstrated as the priestess moves to reverently pick up the crystal hand … then puts it over her own hand like a glove.

"What is that thing?" the poodle demands. "Did you steal it? You Savanite thieves! The Nagai had to go and give you freedom, and see what happens? You go and steal things and kidnap people and do all sorts of horrible things. Every last one of you should be stuck right back in chains – or worse!"

Alptraum shouts a few choice vulgarities at the Savanite in Sylvanian. He then sucks in a breath and eyes the crystal glove. "I may be a nobody, but kill me and you will bring down the wrath of the Yodhsunala," Alptraum warns.

The priestess slowly walks over toward the poodle, turning a condescending smile toward Alptraum. "We fear not your foreign mother here," she signs slowly with the ungloved hand. Then, she raises the crystal-gloved hand up, and the audience claps even more furiously.

The poodle shakes and shivers. "What is that? Wh-wha – Keep it away! KEEP AWAY FROM ME!" His shouts and cries as he twists and vainly contorts in his bindings turn more and more into animalistic yaps and snarls and barks, as his eyes widen.

Alptraum almost responds, but simply cannot find the words. Instead, he ends up just watching. Watching to discover what will be his fate.

The priestess draws the glove down toward the poodle and holds it in front of his eyes. He tries to close them, but they wrench back open again, bulging unnaturally. Then … something starts to flow out of his eyes, a glowing fluid weeping from his eyes at an unimaginable rate. The fluid pours over his body, running into the channels, and running toward the bowl depression in the base of the altar – and as it does so, the poodle's body begins to darken in patches, and the gown begins to turn gray and stained from the passing of the strange fluid.

The priestess, meanwhile, just grins with wide, wild, intensely focused, faintly glowing eyes, a mad leer on her face, intoxicated by whatever sensations are flowing through her from the glove. The poodle's struggles weaken, though the process seems to take painfully long.

Alptraum gasps in shock. In a strange way, he feels like he's experiencing one of his own nightmares. Yet, this is real. Real, and he can't do anything to stop it. Alptraum again strains, muscles tensing. "Don't let me die like this," he pleads inwardly, "At least let me go down fighting."

The poodle's body twitches, though it may well be that he died long before this too ended. When the fluids stop flowing, all that is left is a blackened, dried husk, the eye sockets hollow and blind, the formerly pristine white gown gray, stained and lifeless as the body it poorly covers. The audience makes queer noises – barks, it sounds like, animal sounds, moans, along with their wild, no longer choreographed clapping. The priestess makes a shrieking noise, her face still fixed in wild pleasure, as she dips her ungloved hand down into the glowing fluid in the receptacle, and brings them up, fluid running off of her fingers, as she plunges them into her mouth, licking greedily. Her fur gains more luster, her eyes glow more brightly, and if she had any sign of age before, it quickly fades away, as she is invigorated by the drained life force.

The receptacle is not completely filled – indeed, there is only a thin layer covering the bottom, but female attendants rush forth, and lift the stone bowl from its recessed place at the bottom of the trenches, and upend it, pouring the contents into chalices made of black stone. They begin passing the chalices out, as greedy fingers fumble for them, and some of those gathered are so eager that they even fall into in-fighting for the precious fluid.

Alptraum can hear his own heart racing in his chest. The screams and shouts of the followers echo painfully in his sensitive ears. People consider Babelite goddesses bad? This is equally horrid. How could they willingly do that to anyone.

The priestess holds up one of the chalices left behind. While the followers squabble over drinks from the other chalices, she has the lioness's share, as it were. She sets the chalice down momentarily, upon the pedestal, far from the grasping hands of the cultists, then slowly removes the glove and sets it down, before retrieving her chalice again, and walking toward Alptraum. "There is another way," she signs with her free hand.

Silver eyes narrow. "Another way of what?" he asks.

The priestess smiles at Alptraum lustily, and signs, "You have a great power in you. You may feed, or be fed upon. Drink of this chalice, and join me. You will be my consort, and I will satisfy your desires in ways you never knew possible."

"Feed on another's life? That is something I swore I would never do," Alptraum says. "The irony of this is you're no different than me. Just a vampire of a different kind," he then adds, eyes narrow. "Besides, who's to say you wouldn't just kill me later, for whatever power I might have."

"I am offering you a chance to live a while longer, or die now. If you fear the possibility of dying later, it is nothing compared to the certainty of dying now," the priestess signs, a process that takes quite some time, given that she's just using one hand. The audience, meanwhile, seems to be getting restless, as the chalices apparently have mostly been emptied. One of the female cultists, swathed in black, steps up to the pedestal, perhaps ready for the next serving to begin…

"You keep saying I have a great power – why? I've never seen any evidence of this save for bad dreams," Alptraum says. Perhaps she can enlighten him on what she senses in him.

"I smell it in you. The infusion of the flows of life draws me closer to the spirit world. It lengthens my life and preserves my youth, until at last I shall become a being of pure spirit, no longer bound to flesh and bone," the priestess signs. Alptraum can't clearly see the female cultist during this, but as the signs are taking some time, perhaps it is apparent that this little speech will take some time, for the female cultist next to the pedestal backs away again.

"It is a simple thing to do," the priestess offers, putting the chalice close to Alptraum's face, under his nose. The chalice smells sweet, quite unlike what one would expect one's life force in fluid form to smell like, violently drawn from one's screaming body.

"You only smell the scent of the dead on me, then," Alptraum replies. "I once walked in the Sea of Souls, but no more. That power is gone! GONE!" He then adds, "You want to be a spirit? I've been to the spirit world before. It's no place I would ever want to be. Do you know what is there?" His lips part, not wanting to die here. Just a drink wouldn't be so bad, would it? No! His head pulls back from the chalice, his determination not wanting to break the vow he made about feeding on another.

The cheetah's leering expression gives way to a contemptuous snarl. "So be it," she says in a flicking of fingers, raising the chalice to her own lips, and drinking greedily. She shivers in delight as the glow passes through her body, her ears wiggling in girlish glee, as she lets the now-empty chalice fall to the floor. She gives Alptraum a predatory grin, then spins about to the pedestal to grasp the – but the glove is not there.

Alptraum lists his head to watch, ready to face his own death. It is only then he realizes the glove is gone and it hits him. Is Autumn-Storm here?

The priestess looks about, her eyes filling with anger, then a momentary flicker of dread, but if she seeks the glove, she does not find it. She claps her hands to summon her attendants, but her two female attendants are rolling about, drunk with the effects of the fluid … but then, what of the third one who stands near the pedestal? Now that it occurs to Alptraum, there were only two there before… and then, he sees a glint of crystal, as the black-garbed cultist draws forth a crystal-gloved hand, balled up into a fist, and cracks the priestess with it on the back of the skull while she's turned the other way!

For the first time since arriving in this horrid place, Alptraum finds himself thinking he might survive. His eyes open wide as he watches the events unfold, then once again strains to free himself. If that's who he thinks it is, how did she find him?!

The priestess's eyes roll up, and she falls to the floor, slumping. Some of the cultists murmur, looking with glazed and not-entirely-comprehending eyes toward the stage, as the traitor cultist rushes to Alptraum's side, drawing forth a familiar-looking ivory-handled knife and working furiously at the bonds holding his right wrist.

A few cut strands, and his right hand is free. His mysterious benefactor puts the blade's handle into his now-freed hand, as she pulls out another knife and crouches down to work on his right ankle instead. Now, the dullness seems to be breaking, as some of the cultists seem to realize that their second helping isn't going to be coming right away … and if there was nothing else to motivate them, that suffices for some of them to draw wickedly-curved daggers and advance upon the stage.

Alptraum doesn't waste time to inquire just who this is. Instead, he leans to the side and starts cutting frantically at the rope on his left wrist. No time to talk – time to get out of here!

Alptraum's senses may have been dulled by whatever he was drugged with, earlier, but the gravity of his situation and the rush of adrenaline helps him to get that second wind – and he makes quick work of freeing his left hand. His right ankle is free, too, and then the black-garbed cheetah works on the cord that goes across to pin down his wings – and they, too are free. Just one remaining cord about his left ankle – but then, a cheetah cultist springs up onto the stage, curved dagger upraised to strike!

Alptraum says, "The one attacking on the stage?"

Alptraum says, "'Can Alptraum feasibly try and stab him?"

Alptraum shrieks loudly and makes a stab toward the attacking cheetah, survival instinct kicking in.

Despite having one foot still anchored to the sacrificial slab, Alptraum is still able to reach the cheetah, and his knife strikes true. The cheetah lets out a strangled choke, grasping at his chest, then falling backward off the stage, and on top of a couple more cheetahs that were about to leap up. Suddenly Alptraum feels his ankle free, and the black-garbed benefactor signs, "GO!" and points to the stairs (of which there are two flights to choose from, both leading up).

"Don't have to tell me twice!" Alptraum says and leaps off the slab and into a run toward the stairs! He holds his knife ready, prepared to fight his way out if need be.

It looks like there may well be a fight, as several of the black-robed cheetahs move to interpose themselves between Alptraum and the stairs. As for his benefactor … well, he loses sight of her, as it's pretty easy to get her mixed up with all the other black-robed knife-wielding cheetahs in the room right now.

Alptraum's lips pull back from his fangs in a snarl and he charges onward toward the stairs. It looks as if he's going to take the group in front of the stairs head on. But as he gets close, he leaps upward and spreads his wings with a hard beat, attempting to boost his jump and go over them!

The cheetahs slice at the air, but once again, wings prove useful against land-bound combatants. Alptraum makes it onto the stairs, with a clear way out of this forsaken chamber, while a couple of the cultists just sign unmentionable things after him for his offense.

Alptraum doesn't look back. He darts up the staircase, hoping whomever saved him can simply blend in and sneak off.

The next few minutes go by in a blur, as Alptraum, focused on getting out of here, races through the building, shoving his way past several startled cheetahs, and eventually makes it out to the darkened streets. Eventually, he feels his strength fading, as he finds a dark alley to collapse in and to try to regain his breath and his bearings. His Eeee ears thankfully report no sounds of anyone pursuing him…

Alptraum collapses heavily against the wall. He clutches at his chest and breathes heavily. "Gods … I can't believe all of that … and I'm alive!" he rasps in shock. He looks around, trying to get a feel for where he is when it hits him. He's only wearing this dinky robe. Oh well, better that, than dead. "I hope whomever that was got out. I bet it was Autumn-Storm… "

Then, Alptraum's ears pick up the sounds of someone coming down the street, scuffing on the gritty cobbles. He can make out a shadowy feline form with frizzy long hair creeping down the street, carrying a large bundle of some sort, pausing to crouch down, examine the ground, then stand up again, looking around uncertainly.

Alptraum pulls his wings close to him and tries to pull into the shadows more. He then lets out a soft squeak as a guide. He hopes that's who he thinks, but better be safe.

The feline stops and looks toward the alley. In the faint Procession light, he can make out – Yes, that's Autumn-Storm. She cautiously approaches, wary of the shadows, clutching a bundle to her chest.

Alptraum steps slowly out of the shadows so to not startle her. A moment later, he rushes toward her to hug her. He stops just short of doing so, realizing that would be a bad idea considering she's carrying things.

Autumn-Storm intercepts him by tossing the bundle to Alptraum – which apparently consists of a few things bundled up in a baggy pair of trousers. Then … her ears wiggle, as she grins at the bat.

Alptraum grins, then promptly sets the items down and hugs her. Even his wings wrap around the grinning feline. "Thank you … thank you … " he murmurs.

Alptraum considers something, then shrugs. "What the heck," he mutters, then smooches Autumn-Storm's cheek. "Let'sget out of here. I'll change clothes back at the inn," he says as he lets go.

Autumn-Storm, of course, can't resist the urge to rub in anything she can about Alptraum's predicament, despite (or perhaps because of) the seriousness of it. Nonetheless, they make it back to the Running River Inn without incident, where Alptraum gets his room to recuperate in without running into Nekara first.

Another night passes, devoid of any strange dreams of the Realm of Sunala, though he has a great many more disturbing images to trouble his slumber. The next morning comes at last, with another gathering in the commons room for breakfast, though this time Autumn-Storm joins Nekara and Alptraum at the table.

"Good, you're up," Nekara says, as the first words since Alptraum's return. "We already missed one ship out. But we can catch another today – a bit extravagant, perhaps, but I was able to make use of some favors. We'll be taking a luxury cruise, as the Rephidimites like to call it, across the Stygian Sea, from Safar to the Gigi Coast."

Alptraum nods quietly at this, seeming rather somber this morning. "The sooner we're out of here, the better," he finally says. "It's not safe here. Not for me." His eyes flick to look at Autumn-Storm.

Nekara nods, just as somber. "So I noticed. I've already checked us out, so be sure to get everything out of your room as soon as you are finished with breakfast and any other tidying up you require." She then gets up, as apparently she must have already had her breakfast earlier. (As for Alptraum, well, perhaps there are some cheap yiffles in one of the markets… )

"I almost died last night, Nekara," Alptraum says quietly.

Nekara nods. "I know. We'll see to it that doesn't happen. And for the cruise, we will be accompanying a cargo of yiffles we're shipping under the pretense of feeding Babelite Nagai. I expect a high attrition rate, of course, for the journey, but that's only to be expected."

"How do you know?" Alptraum asks. He looks down at the table and mutters, "She kept saying I had some great power. She wanted it."

Nekara says, "Apparently she was a sorcerer who could detect you as well as a College-trained mage could. Autumn-Storm saw you briefly in the market, but before she could catch up with you, you had disappeared into an alley, and she saw the amber-eyed sorceress responsible for your predicament. I had to acquire the services of a translator to find all of this from Autumn-Storm, but I then used what resources I had to find out more about your abductors and where you might be held. Autumn-Storm, however, proved more resourceful than I in that regard, as she found you first."

Autumn-Storm signs, "I didn't mention the part about the skimpy gown."

"She called me the child of a foreign god. She wanted me to join her," Alptraum says with a shrug. A weak smile does appear on his face, however, after catching Autumn's comment. "Thanks," he signs back.

"I'm definitely going to have to learn more Silent Sign," Nekara comments. "In any case, we'll put the whole ocean between you and what's left of her cult." She looks to Autumn-Storm. "You did see to it that the authorities get a tip on the location of their 'temple', yes?"

Autumn-Storm nods firmly.

Alptraum offers, "I could try and teach you some on the boat, I suppose." He then shrugs and says, "Thanks for being concerned, Nekara. I would've died without Autumn-Storm or your help. I'll get my things and be ready to go."

Nekara nods. "I trust the next leg of our journey will be far more pleasant than any of the others so far." And with that, she strides away from the table.

Autumn-Storm stands. "I'll see what I can do to scrounge you up some breakfast. You'd be better off keeping a low profile until we're out of here."

"I will never understand her," Alptraum tells Autumn-Storm. He then nods and says, "Thanks again. I'll not be leaving the inn until we're ready to sail."

Autumn-Storm nods and grins. "Hope you don't mind the open sea! Guess we'll be bobbing around on the waves for a long time to come."

"Hope you won't mind a whining cabin mate," Alptraum signs back, then grins. "Like or dislike, I'll have to deal with it. I'll be all right. I can do some flying should I feel the need." Alptraum then stands to go gather his things, pausing to look around the inn. "Is there no place safe I can go? Hated by most for being of Sunala. Hated by most Eeee for being a vampire," the Eeee thinks, then shrugs. Only time will tell. Hopefully, he'll find out in Babel just what that cheetah sensed in him. There's something there, but what? Two mages could sense it, why can't he?