Four figures appear in the mists. The first is a graying Khatta in dark robes. Before him, floating at hip level, is the supine figure of a sleeping Sphynx. Across from this pair is another: a Jupani and an Eeee standing side-by-side.

"Ah, an interesting and dangerous game to be playing," Alptraum says calmly to the graying Khatta. "It also tends to draw a lot of attention to yourself. It certainly caught my interest."

"Your eyes are li-" The lupine fellow blinks, then peers suspiciously around at the group. "Oh," he says after a moment as if it all suddenly made sense. "Well. There are usually more women in this. And uh," he eyes Alptraum, "you're not going to turn into Inala and … " he eyes the feline man, " … I guess you're not turning into a calico?"

The feline sorcerer gives Arkold an annoyed look, then says to Alptraum, "So, it appears some of your powers are real after all, if this Jupani is a friend of yours. I must admit I was not expecting you, but since you're here, I will make use of you." His grin is quite unpleasant, as he casually strokes the dangling hair of the sleeping figure of Tulani.

"Some, yes," Alptraum replies with feral grin. "Which of those, well, you'll have to find out on your own." He rolls his head slightly, popping his neck, and adds, "Didn't expect me? Oh come now, did you think I've forgotten you from the few years past? You've never left my hunting list. Your sloppiness here made you easy to find." He then glances at Arkold and adds, "Sorry for disrupting your dream. Hope it wasn't at a good part."

"Uh," the wolf eyes the feline again, and this time with the dawning realization, "by 'make use of' you mean something evil and not involving the silk ties? Because I don' like to think of Tulani … that way … y'know? She's like a daughter. Just weird." He glances at Alptraum too. "Uh, same goes for bats here. More so. Very much more so." He coughs and adds, "Just missed the good part."

"I was hoping to lure a different hunter," Abzhalom admits, then waves his hand. "No matter!" he declares, and points towards the dome of dead trees. "Yonder is the dragon's mental fortress. I have not been able to penetrate it, and in this realm I doubt that you would be able to either," the sorcerer explains. He then points to the dark arch of black stone. "That is new, and appears only because you are here… because only you and those you take can go there. Can you guess where it leads?"

Alptraum takes a casual glance towards the structure. "That? Well, if connected to me, then I would have to surmise the 'afterlife' as it were. The sea of souls," he replies with a shrug. He cants his head, looking at the sorcerer, "And I think you are after whatever he's guarding in that crypt he sleeps in. You wanted the girl because of her connection to him and her 'use' as a medium for those contained in the dragon. You wanted her to slip into his mind. So, I think you want me to go through the afterlife and follow those he contains back to him, or try and open a bridge. Of course, that's all guesswork. How close am I?"

"It's never to the Land of a Thousand Dancing Maidens is it," Arkold sighs.

Abzhalom chuckles! "Quite far off, for the most part," he says. "It is true that I need what the dragon guards, and this girl has a particular use towards that end. But I need to know more. I need to know the dragon's weakness, if he has one. So, since I cannot enter his mind, you will enter the so-called Sea of Souls that he contains, and search there for me."

"Ohhh. Well then. Uh." Arkold rubs his hands nervously. "I wouldn't know abou' that. I'll jus' … " he eyes the endless expanse around him, " … be goin'? I was havin' a nice dream."

"I will? Since when do I take orders from you, hmm?" Alptraum asks, looking nonplussed. He then sighs and says, "And spare me the whole death and torture routine or endless horrors you have waiting for us. Why should I help you? You have plenty of deaths on your hands you need to answer for, as well as the dragon. Just what are you after that makes helping you better than helping him?"

"Nobody leaves until I say so," the Khatta warns Arkold, and holds up a glowing crystal pendant in one hand. "Nobody wakes without my willing it." To Alptraum, he says, "You will help me because it helps you as well… just as aiding the dragon against me helps you. You would see us both destroyed, would you not?"

"Oh crud," grumbles Arkold.

"You do realize I could likely rend your soul while we're in here, yes? So, no threatening my friend, eh? You harm Arkold, I rend you, and we're all stuck here for eternity insulting each other. It gets neither of us anywhere," Alptraum replies with a smirk, then reaches over and pats Arkold's shoulder. "Now, yes, it would benefit me to see you both destroyed. But, do I look that stupid to you? You've obviously got a plan to prevent me from taking you out, or you wouldn't be trying to make this deal. You want my help, present to me why you're the lesser of the two evils. What are you after?"

"Yeah you harm Arkold he rends you. Better not forget that," the wolf insists. He then side steps closer to Alptraum, whispering, "Uh, bats, what's goin' on here? We're in some kind of … dream? Right? Is any of this real or is it the stew I ate last night? Come to think of it … " He pinches himself.

"Ah, straight to the point, eh?" the sorcerer says, grinning toothily. "To be blunt, I merely want to rule the world. The dragon wants to destroy it. You tell me which is the lesser evil, eh?"

"Ow!" Arkold rubs his arm. "Bah! One of these days I'm gettin' me one of these magical devices and then it'll be me with the 'hahaha you can't escape' remarks," he mutters. Then he clears his throat before addressing the necromancer, saying, "Oh Vorg isn't that bad, er, well … maybe." He coughs, gives Alptraum a 'I'm batting 0 here' shrug, then just tries to look big. With muscles.

"Death can be preferable to suffering in some cases. What makes you ruling the world better than death, mm?" Alptraum replies with a bemused smirk. "I've seen what you do to peoples minds, and what your people do to others. I would consider death preferable to that. In any event, your argument has some minor merit to it. So, tell me, what do you intend to do with us if we perform this little errand?" He then glances over at Arkold and whispers, "Yes, it's a dream world. You're here probably because of me, sorry about that. I've got experience dealing with this place to some degree. Before doing anything, I want to get a feel for the situation."

Arkold gives Alptraum a nod and whispers, "Woah. Really? A dream world? I guess this is your turf. I'll follow your lead since I guess it ain't as simple as dreaming up a victory."

"I'll just let you go then," the Khatta says, with a little shrug. "There is no reason for me to kill you, and perhaps you will dispose of the dragon for me as well."

"Knowing that you're on my hunt list, you'd just let us go? I find that difficult to believe," Alptraum replies and arches his eyebrows. "Although, killing me is pointless. I'll just come back later, eh?" he adds with a shrug. "But so be it, I'm curious as to what the dragon is protecting. It would be a disservice to not take the time to investigate him further."

"Ah, I knew you would be rational about this," the Khatta says, and rests a hand on Tulani's head. "The girl will stay with me until you return, of course. If you succeed, she will awaken knowing none of what has transpired between us."

"Hands off Tulani," Alptraum replies and smiles darkly. "Or, well, bad things might happen to you, eh?" He glances to Arkold and says, "Well, looks like we get to walk around in your old friend's mind. I'm curious as to the shape his little internal world will take."

Arkold steps forward when the necromancer puts his hand on Tulani, fists clenching. "Yeah you jus' watch yourself. You're not the only one who can animate an' arm or a leg to cause pain." He gives the feline a growl for good measure and then nods back to Alptraum.

Still smiling, the Khatta makes a gesture with his free hand, and says, "Dagh's blessing upon your mission."

"My mother's blessing would be more effective where we're going," Alptraum replies and grins. He looks back to Arkold and says, "Come on; time to walk among the dead. Let's stay close, eh? No telling what we may find over there. I'll try and avoid drawing anyone else in here, though I would imagine Lilith would find this place interesting, heh. But then she'd think me even stranger." He then starts walking towards the black stones.

The Jupani eyes the necromancer one more time and then, upon realizing Alptraum is walking too far away, hurries to catch up. "So this is the world of the dead … in the dragon. So this is where, uh, dinner goes? Of souls, I guess." He runs a hand through his hair. "This gets at least a chapter jus' for weirdness."

"We're not in the dragon yet," Alptraum explains. "The stones were a gateway there and exist because I'm here." He shrugs lightly then whispers so only Arkold should be able to hear, "And truth be told, I'm taking a lesson from your book on pretending you have a powerful position. I'm uncertain how powerful of a position we really have here. We have to be careful."

Beyond the black archway, Alptraum and Arkold find themselves in a wasteland of blasted earth, from the cracked dirt of which protrude the rusted shafts of spears and petrified figures that might once have been soldiers; not even tatters wave from poles where pennants once flew. Skeletons of cracked bone lie in heaps amidst the fragments of chitin armor, some of sapients, some of the beasts they bestrode. In the half-glow of twilight, wisps waft like ghosts through the eyes of skulls.

Standing out from debris is a short, petrified tree trunk sprouting spiny thorns. Impaled onto these thorns are pieces of flesh, fur and bone organized to give the impression of a bipedal canid, possibly a wolf or coyote. A partially fleshed skull rests in the crux of two branches, its single eye turning to watch the newcomers

Alptraum eyes the odd fleshy thing critically. To lighten the mood a bit, he glances to Arkold and says, "I bet that's how you feel after a night of too much drinking, eh?" He grins.

"Ooookay I guess I understand – no, wait. I don't understand at all. But, heh," a shrug, "I guess tha' never stopped us before right?" He follows Alptraum's gaze to the fleshy thing and nods soberly. "It is at that. I do believe he, she, it, uh … is lookin' at us. Well ahoy there, critter!" He waves!

"Be you mages?" hisses the unmoving jaw of the creature.

"Does it matter?" Alptraum inquires.

"I can make money disappear," Arkold answers.

"I was a mage," the creature replies. "Why didst the dragon consume thee?"

"Well, we weren't exactly consumed," Alptraum replies and shrugs. "How many has he consumed?"

"I saw multitudes when I was taken," the skull answers. "But no others before thee from my world. Hath the end begun for Sinai?"

"This mus' have happened after I first met him. He wasn't like this way back when," Arkold explains. "He said he found something here or in Bosch. From what it looks like here I'd be surprised if it wasn't partially madness. Then again," he nods to the coyote thing, "he says he's from elsewhere."

"Not as long as I exist," Alptraum replies, eyebrows raised. "In any event, what can you tell us about him? Do you know where the others he has consumed are?"

"I saw him arrive on our world," the skull says. "I tried to steal his life, but he was clever."

"It's moments like these that remind me how poor my life-choices were when I was younger," Arkold considers aloud.

"So, he got you instead of you getting him, then," Alptraum says and looks at Arkold. "Can you move from that spot? We could use a guide here."

"Move… " the skull repeats. "There is not enough of me left. He took my magic and knowledge, and this is all that remains. He was not like Akahazam after all. He was worse… "

"Not like who? How was he worse? What can he do, and what can stop him?" Alptraum asks in rapid succession.

"Jus' think that could be me," Arkold explains to Alptraum as he steps towards the skull. He kneels down and asks, "He's got to have a weakness right? I mean when I met him he was like, two, in dragon years. They said he lives a lot of lives so … something has to kill him in the first place. Any idea?"

The skull's single eye seems to glaze for a moment. "Hast the world forgotten Akahazam the Mighty? Consort of the Avatar and wielder of the Shadow of Amena?" it asks instead of answering.

"Never heard of him. Consort of what Avatar?" Alptraum inquires.

"Times change I guess," remarks the wolf.

"Much time has passed then," the skull laments. "We pledged ourselves to him, to his promise of immortality. We fought beside him here on these wooded plains of Tizhar, and alongside Her, the Avatar, Amena's image in flesh."

"Well, I'm believed to be what is called the Barsunala, the only child of the Goddess of Death," Alptraum tells the skull, then shrugs. "So, hearing Avatar, and other such things makes me question if any of it's real, sorry. What can you tell us about Amena, and about Akahazam? Did he destroy them too?"

"Waaait. You mean the Necromancer King right? Not Vorg the necromancer dragon? There is a difference? Right? He's not tha' old. Can't be. Right?" Arkold glances over his should to Alptraum. "Right?"

"So, uh, Akahazam you fought with. He, uh, didn't by any chance happen to call himself the Necromancer King right?" Arkold scratches his head. "An' the Shadow of Amena? That wasn't, um, a weapon was it? A sword perhaps?"

"Amena, the ever-living," the skull rambles, a black tear welling up from its eye. "Akazaham was her King, and she gave him the power of her Shadow, to suck life to fuel unlife. But he fell to the wielder of the Light. We all fell to Nala's champion, left in a lifeless waste where the Shadow's blessing became a curse." Rolling its eye to focus on Arkold, the skull says, "The Shadow is without form, it was the Light that became a sword. It struck, and the Shadow met it… and the sky was torn open… and this is all that remained."

"Is any part of you removable so you can guide us through this place if one of us carries you?" Alptraum asks, then looks to Arkold and says, "I suspect ol' dragon absorbed the energy remaining from the war. Perhaps something from that coffin."

"So … its, uh, insubstantial I guess. I guess that's good." The wolf glances back at the bat and nods, "Wouldn't want somethin' that evil layin' around. Unless, ah, … " Arkold's head whips back around to ask the skull eye to eye, "Vorg – the dragon that ate you – he didn't find this Darkness of Amena right?"

"No… but he knows of it." the skull says. "So much time has passed. There would have been a new Avatar eventually, awakened in a new land. The Shadow would go to her there, and the dead would rise up for her and her chosen King."

"I bet that's what they both want Ravenia for, since she can play host to spirits," Alptraum says and looks at Arkold grimly. "This is going to get uglier than it already has."

"You're tellin' me," says Arkold to Alptraum. The macabre sight of Arkold kneeling next to a rotting, talking, possessed skull rather helps demonstrate just how ugly the situation already is, too. "Good thing is I don't know of a land where the dead walk and a death-avatar walks around. That kind of news would spread fast. So it hasn't happened yet, or is too far away. I'm guessin' our dead lovin' pals want to bring it here though. Can't let that happen 'o course."

"Are there any, ah, cities in this place?" Alptraum asks the skull and looks out over the wasteland. "Perhaps others here know of weaknesses in the dragon." He then sighs and points out, "I'm an avatar of death, in some sense, you know. Except, my touch banishes those who walk beyond their time back to the realm of the dead. So, I suppose it's not me, at least."

"Barsunala… Barsunala… " the skull chants. "The Goddess of Death is enemy to Amena, the Goddess of Undeath. Her minions where in the army of the Light, for she was the other face of Nala. Always trying to destroy our beautiful Avatar… our Queen Necropolis… " The eye turns on Alptraum again. "Why should I aid thou, my enemy?"

"Well that and this Amena sounds like a woman," Arkold points out. "An as much as bats are confusin' you don't count."

"Would you like to be removed from this place? Perhaps find final rest?" Alptraum asks of the skull. "I could always try and move your soul to say, Arkold's sword."

"Yeah we could hel – hey wait a minute!" The wolf glances over his with a look as if Alptraum had lost his mind. "My sword? Well, uh, I kind of like my sword. It's nice and sharp and has the nude, er, artistic grip. I mean, uh … well … if you're sure about this. Guess I can't gripe too much." He shrugs. "I mean considering what's at stake."

The skull seems to mull this over. "I am Shadow-blessed," it says. "Your touch would end me… what is left of me. There is… so little. I cannot recall my name. My youth. If you can release me so, then do it, Child of Death."

"I will, if you can give us either advice on the dragon's weaknesses, or where in this place we may be able to find such information," Alptraum replies and glances at Arkold.

Arkold steps away from the skull as if, perhaps, freedom of the soul might involve some sort of explosion. "Sounds good to me," he agrees.

"I will do what I can," the skull promises, "for no Hell can be worse than this. When I go, this place will fade, and you will be where you need to be."

Alptraum flexes his hand, looking at the sharp claws on each fingertip. He then looks to the creature, and then Arkold. "I, er, hope this isn't dangerous to either of us … and actually works." He walks close to the strange remains and grits his teeth. "May you find final peace," he hisses, then sweeps his hand forward hard, sinking the claws into the remains of the flesh on the skull.

At Alptraum's touch, the skull crumbles to dust, as do the other scraps of flesh and bone. The tree too begins to blacken and crumble, and the wasteland fades away, replaced by a verdant forest. A clear river separates the trees from a field, where a city of colorful tents has been set out. Puffy clouds drift through a clear turquoise sky, and the strands of festival music can be heard.

"Woah, it worked! Hey, wait, maybe it is the land of a Thousand Dancing Maidens," Alptraum remarks, looking rather, well, stunned. "This is not what I expected."

"You think? Could be. Maybe it is! Good job!" Arkold gives Alptraum a rather solid pat on the back, no doubt distracted by the fact this may indeed by the Land of a Thousand Dancing Maidens.

"I get half of 'em. No, seventy-five percent. Finders fee, you know," Alptraum quips and grins at Arkold. He cants his ears towards the music, listening for voices as well.

"Well, I wouldn't call them maidens," says a voice from overhead, in one the trees at the duo's back. It sounds young, and almost musical.

"Ah!" Startled, the old wolf whips around, his sword half drawn. "Ah. Oh. Ah." He peers around, then up at the trees. "And what would you call them, eh?"

Alptraum turns around to the voice, trying to not look startled by someone speaking. It doesn't help much that his fur is a bit puffed out.

Up in the tree, lounging on a branch in an almost feline way, is a colorfully dressed young man. His face is longer and sharper than that of a human, and his pointy ears and green hair distance him even further from that race. And no human ever had golden, cat slit eyes like this! "Cousins, mostly," the lad says with a grin, then swings down to land on the ground near Arkold, before bowing before the wolf.

Reflexively the wolf bows back. "Ah, yeah, of course. I'm, uh, Arkold. An' this is Alptraum. Careful, he's scary," he greets the human-like being.

"Well, they wouldn't be cousins of us, right? Of course, they'd need to be women, and, er, anyway," Alptraum says then elbows Arkold. "I am not scary."

"And I am Pyndam Allweather of the Lower Court of the Seleigh," the boy says by way of introduction. "But most call me Pin, for my piercing wit!"

"And not because they want to stick pins in you?" Alptraum checks.

"That's great. They call Alp Alptraum because he's scary," the wolf insists as he rubs his side. "So, uh, where 'bouts are we? Still in the stomach-slash-afterworld of the dragon's belly eh?"

The boy puts his hands over his heart and staggers back dramatically. "Oh, Sir, your fangs would bite less deep!" he says, then giggles and straightens up again. "You have managed to arrive at the Last Festival of Astillion. The first strangers we've ever had, at that. Most curious!"

"Ah, really, well. We're looking for information on defeating a dragon. You folks don't have dragon-fighting pageants at this festival, do you?" Alptraum asks, getting an odd idea.

"And, ah, jus' to be sure … you haven't had any dragons botherin' you right? Or your, ah, … world? This isn't Sinai is it?" inquires Arkold.

The boy laughs at Alptraum's suggestion. "It's a bit late to fight dragons once you're here," he says, "But you are clearly from Outside, so you probably want to talk to Eluria. And this is the Echo of the world Astillion, and the dragon will come at sunset, as has always happened now for… for a very long time!"

"Ah, but we didn't … oh nevermind. Can you take us to Eluria?" Alptraum asks.

"Follow me, prithee!" Pin exhorts, and skips across some river stones to the field beyond, heading towards the tents.

"I'm not skippin'," Arkold insists, pausing before flollwing along.

"What a strange fellow," Alptraum comments to Arkold, then shrugs. He just takes to the air to fly after Pin. No falling into the river for him.

At the edge of the tent city, more activity becomes visible. Different sorts of people stroll about, most of them drinking wine or other beverages from ornate crystal glasses. All of them have the same catlike eyes as Pin, and long pointed ears, but there are differences. There are plenty of colorfully dressed 'teenagers' like Pyndam, with equally colorful hair. In contrast, there are taller, more elegantly dressed types with long blond or black hair, and having an almost ethereal grace to their movements. All of them stop and stare at the strangers.

Alptraum glides down and lands quietly. His wings rustle with the sound of folding leather and the collapse against his back. "Ah, good afternoon. Don't mind us. We're just here to see the festival and learn a few things," Alptraum says with a smile and a wave to the people that stare.

Arkold likewise makes quick introductions as he strolls through the crowd. "Hi. Arkold." "Jupani don'cha know. From Sinai." "Nice to meet you." "Great hair."

Pyndam leads the two aliens through the crowds, whose musical conversations invariably come to a halt as the strangers pass. None of them ever reply to the Eeee or Jupani though. Eventually they come more or less to the center of the city, where a long table sits under a canopy. A feast is laid out on it, and on one side sits various richly outfitted, blonde-haired elves. On the opposite side sit more sparsely outfitted black-skinned, white-haired elves that resemble Ravenia. All of them are extremely well armed with elegant looking silver knives and swords.

"Ah, well, at least them I sort of recognize," Alptraum whispers to Arkold. "Must be Ravenia's homeworld, or what is left of it."

Leaning against a support post is a leather-clad elfin woman with black hair and fair skin, watching the seated delegations with a smirk of amusement. It is to her that Pin brings Arkold and Alptraum. "Hey, Eluria, look what wandered in," he says by way of introduction.

The woman turns her attention from the feast to look the two strangers up and down. "Haven't seen your like before," she comments.

"We're apparently from Outside. I'm Arkold," Arkold says by way of introduction. He gives a bit of a wave, too, then glances at the elves Alptraum points out. "This must be a … memory. Maybe Ravenia's? Or maybe these are her people," he whispers aside to the bat.

"Well, I can't say the same because I've seen that type before," Alptraum replies and waves toward the dark skinned elf-like people. "I'm Alptraum." Alptraum says.

"Ah, and what does the High and Mighty Vorgulremik want me to do for him this time?" Eluria asks, raising one eyebrow in mild curiosity.

"Actually, we're here seeking information on destroying him," Alptraum says flatly.

"That'll be all, Pin," Eluria says to the smaller elf, dismissing him. "Go get drunk while there's still time." She then looks the two aliens over again, and gestures for them to follow her.

With a shrug Arkold follows along after Eluria. "From what I heard it seems ol' Vorg pops up around sunset every day," he asks.

Alptraum watches the woman carefully for a moment, then follows along. Out of curiosity, he tries to focus his hearing and listen for heartbeats to see if in this 'dream' world, people are somewhat 'real'.

"It's the Echo," Eluria says, and leads the pair past the feast and into a more shaded section of the tent city. This appears to be where the dark-skinned elves stay, out of the harsh sunlight. For all that Alptraum can tell, these people are real flesh and blood.

Arkold takes a moment to scan the various people inside the tent with his eyes before he folds his arms and asks, "Is that some sort of … ah, repeat of what he did to your world?"

Alptraum nods slightly to Arkold, figuring that may be it as well.

Outside of one tent, a naked elf woman smiles and winks suggestively to Alptraum while casually wiping blood off of a wickedly barbed sword with a silk cloth. "Yes," Eluria says. "Every day, we relive the destruction of our world. After a million or so times, you'd think we'd do things a differently… but those are immortals for you. That group at the table still hasn't spoken a word to each other in all this time, as if their mutual hatred still actually mattered."

Alptraum glances at the strange elf and gestures at himself briefly. He then shrugs and turns his attentions back to Eluria. "What would happen if you did do things differently? Could you beat him?" Alptraum inquires. "If so, maybe we can help there."

"Uh." Arkold drags his attention away from the suggestive elf, shakes his head to clear it, and then suggests, "As, ah, Outsiders we'd be beyond this cycle of yours, or so you'd think, eh?"

"Beat him?" Eluria says, giving Alptraum a look that one might give a child asking to 'fix' a dead bird. "We're already dead, if you hadn't noticed. We couldn't beat him when we were alive. We didn't even try, knowing it wouldn't matter." Looking to Arkold, she says, "Possibly. You're alive still, I take it? But you shouldn't be here past sunset. I think you want to talk to the ones that have fought against Vorgulremik, yes?"

"We're looking for weaknesses," Alptraum shrugs, "And in my experience, you can affect the living world from places like this. So, it was a thought." He runs a hand through his hair and says, "But to be quick, yes, we're still living. I opened the threshold to here and brought Arkold here with me. We've got the dragon and a sorcerer on the other side to stop. If your warriors can offer useful information … well, maybe we can stop him in that world and free the memory of yours."

"You must be mortals," Eluria says. "Nobody else would have that sort of optimism. Anyway, I can take you to the road that leads to the Valley of the Fallen. That's where you will find your warriors."

"Bats has it right. We're lookin' to stop him an' prevent him from consuming our world. The Necromancer isn't much better, an' we're tryin' to stop him too. But right now it's the dragon we're worried about. Ol' Vorg is jus' a bit too dangerous to compromise with," Arkold agrees. He rolls his shoulders, then adds as he stretches, "It's a victory of a sort of you help us win." He nods. "Ready to go when you are."

"Well, I'm an immortal of a sort," Alptraum points out, then shrugs. "But that's entirely too long of a story to go into. Any information you can offer would be helpful."

As Eluria leads them on through the shaded part of the city, the wind outside begins to pick up, rattling the fabrics of the tents. When they finally break into the open again, they can see dark clouds building on the horizon. It doesn't take much imagination to see the resemblance to a pair of giant dragon wings rising up to cover the sky. "Vorgulremik likes immortals best," the elf woman comments. "He doesn't bother with mortals unless he needs information from them, or servants."

"I know. We've been warned," Alptraum replies grimly. He looks to the sky as they walk and sighs, asking, "How many worlds has he destroyed? How long ago were you killed?"

"I feel so safe," Arkold remarks dryly.

Eluria shrugs. "I think we fell about sixteen thousand years ago, give or take," the elf comments, turning east, away from the setting sun. "As for how many… thousands. Maybe tens of thousands. They aren't all here though. The mortal ones he doesn't keep."

"Forgive me for askin' but how is that possible? I mean, he's jus' one dragon. I've seen him. He used to be so small. Small! An' even now he doesn't seem that powerful relatively speaking. How can he do this?" The wolf perks his ears for the answer.

"Some partner you had," Alptraum comments to Arkold dryly. He watches Eluria, waiting for her answer to Arkold.

Arkold gives Alptraum his best 'I had no idea' shrug. "How could I know? He was so small! I mean, for a dragon – almost cute!"

The elfess stops, and turns to face the pair. "For every foe he defeats, every soul he takes, he gains their power. It may take him centuries to recover it after dying, but it eventually comes back. When he struck us, he was in his prime. Just look behind you."

Alptraum glances backward. "We've been told he returns. I'm hopeful I can imprison him before he can," he tells Eluria. "But for that to work, we'll have to kill his current body."

The wolf turns around more slowly, obviously in no hurry to see the disaster he expects to. "Yeah that's the plan. I'm thinkin' if we can trap 'im I'll go and chuck his soul in to the sun," he adds.

The sky is gone now, and there is no illusion of dark clouds anymore. The dragon's wings really do wrap around the world and the wind blows upward into his gaping maw. Tents and bodies fly upward, and where the sky would show behind the silhouette is filled with flame…

Alptraum extends his hand back towards the horrid sight. He closes his eyes and just feels, to see if he can sense the same sensation he felt before in the castle room; the sensation of the dragon absorbing others.

"He, he was so small before. So small … ," Arkold stammers upon seeing the dreadful sky. "I, uh, … " He shudders visibly.

There is an echo of the sensation Alptraum felt before. "We couldn't fight that level of magic," Eluria says. "Others have fared better though. So to speak," she notes, and leads onward along the path while the scenery burns and melts away around it.

Alptraum shudders visibly and lowers his hand. "I feel it when he does that," Alptraum says, sounding pained. "Please, let us be away from it soon," he says to himself and follows her quickly.

Arkold quickly hurries after the woman. "I hate to say it but we can't fight that level of magic either. Lucky – eh – for us he's still pretty small. He's not nearly that powerful, though, probably more than a match for many on our world," says Arkold.

The sky above becomes the color of bruised skin, and the air grows foul. Black, jagged peaks rise up to either side of the path, pitted with caves. "The Valley of the Fallen," Eluria announces, gesturing into the desolation.

"I guess one of these caves leads to the Pit of Despair then," Arkold jokes without much energy.

Alptraum walks past the woman, his wings brushing against her lightly. His silvery eyes narrow and he surveys the desolate landscape. "You know, I would rather have the necromancer around than the dragon," he remarks.

As they go further, movement can be sensed from the nearer caves. Great horned heads on thick necks emerge to watch their passage, as if there were hundreds of Vorgulremiks. The various steel dragons sport horrific wounds, all still looking fresh.

"I guess if anyone would know how to fight him it'd be another him," Arkold comments. He eyes the steel dragons with undiluted unease. "Yeah," he agrees aloud, "yeah definitely the necromancer."

"Heh, yeah, you're right," Alptraum agrees with Arkold over the other dragons. "Do you know what would happen if we did beat him? Is there a way to get all of you released?" Alptraum asks Eluria.

"Vorgulremik is largely responsible for his status as the last of his breed," Eluria explains, and looks at Alptraum. "Released? I… don't know. When other Molreyekarin were destroyed, all that they held were destroyed with them."

"Would that be preferable," inquires Arkold carefully.

"Well, if we get to that point, I'll try to do … something. Well, if you would want it, anyway," Alptraum says, feeling a bit helpless, and realizing Arkold may have a point on they may not want to be released. "Personally, I'd rather you all just find rest than oblivion. I would think Ravenia would want that too, given I think she's partially one of you."

"We are immortals," the elf says. "Our souls are not like yours, nor are our concepts of life and death. In any case, it hardly matters." Gesturing to Vorgulremik's kin, she asks, "Would you want them loose again?"

Arkold surveys the assorted wounded dragons a moment, then asks, "Are they like him? Do they consume others and, ah, enslave their souls? Is there no altruism among them? No kindness at all?"

"They are exactly like him," Eluria says, as she leads onward. "It is why they were exterminated. Soon we will see some of those exterminators."

Alptraum shrugs. "All I've known is living as a mortal, when I'm apparently not. Sorry, I… I don't want to end up like Vorgulremik, and if I start thinking like him; like as you say, an immortal … I could, I … nevermind," Alptraum says, then falls back a bit from the group, growing a bit more quiet.

The types of dragons change along the way, coming in all shapes and sizes, the only common denominator being the gruesome nature of their wounds. Finally, they enter an area where the dragons all appear more or less identical, with golden skin and manes, and eyes not so different from Eluria's own. "This is the territory of the faerie dragons, the Veridani warriors who hunted down the Molreyekarin."

"Guess it can't be helped then, eh? Live by the sword, die by the sword." Arkold reaches over and pats Alptraum's shoulders. "It'll be all right kid. You're nothin' like him. Everything I've seen of you tells me that."

"It's part of me, Arkold. Without care, I could change," Alptraum comments quietly, then steps forward to look over the different dragons.

"Heh, then you're jus' like everyone else bats," Arkold insists as he looks over the fairy dragons. "Well they, ah, look a little friendlier. Or maybe it's just the bright coloring."

Stopping, Eluria raises her hands and calls out, "Dejeredan! These living visitors seek the knowledge of slaying Molreyekarin!"

"Don't hit on it if it's female," Alptraum tells Arkold, trying to get his mind off gloomy thoughts.

A golden head peers out of a cave, and the rest of the dragon follows, dragging its broken wings as it limps forward. "No need to shout, Eluria," it says, with that same musical echo to its voice. It does not sound female. "And there is only one Molreyekarin left to slay, as you well know." It isn't a very big dragon, perhaps only as big as Vorgulremik's current body. It is covered with fine golden scales, and sits back on its haunches to look over the visitors from Sinai. "These ones aren't even dragons," it comments to the elf.

"Well now that you mention it … " Arkold rubs his chin thoughtfully, then grins and elbows Alptraum before bowing to the dragon. "Ah, greetings Dejeredan!"

Alptraum bows slightly. "Greetings. I am Alptraum, this is Arkold," he introduces the group. "That one you mention threatens my world. There should still be time, but we need to know their weaknesses."

The golden dragon frowns. "He's alive then?" he says, with a sigh. "The General failed after all, in the end." Shaking his head, he says, "I can't tell you what you need to know, not when it comes to killing Vorgulremik. Even though it uses the same technique as killing any of the steel dragons, it isn't something you can do. You're not even dragons."

"Hey we'll be the judge of what we can and can't do. We have more resources than you might expect, eh? Ain't like we can dragon the whole operation in here," Arkold insists.

Alptraum takes a breath. "Like Arkold said, please describe what you have to do. We have abilities that aren't readily obvious," Alptraum adds.

Dejeredan looks more closely at the pair, his eyes having a haunted look to them. "Very well, if you wish to know," he says. "First, you must bring him to the brink of physical death. Then, simply break through his magical defenses to capture his True Name, an use it to unmake his soul."

Alptraum considers that. "Well, I'm fairly confident I could imprison his soul. Now, getting his true name, I'm not sure how I could get … hm," Alptraum says and rubs his chin. "Perhaps I could get him to inadvertently tell me."

The dragon snorts. "Do not mock me," he says. "Only another dragon can understand his Name. And only one dragon ever has."

"Or maybe we could find someone with sufficient magical ability, eh? Possibly even the Light of Nala if it works like that – an' we can find it," Arkold considers aloud. "Hm, yeah. We could use the necromancer to defeat him but I'm worried about messin' with that balance of power."

"Oh. Uh. I guess you're not up to becomin' a dragon right Alp," Arkold asks the bat.

"I'm not mocking you," Alptraum replies calmly. "On my world, I am the direct offspring of the Spirit that embodies the Goddess of Death. I have some abilities in dealing with souls," he says, exasperated, "All right?" He then glances at Arkold and blinks. "You just gave me a dangerous idea."

"Wait, you can do it? I mean, oh … wait … you're not thinkin' here … bein' a dream … wait … Lemme get this right." Arkold takes a breath, then says slowly, "Think we can, I don't know, dream such a thing here?"

"Not become one. Bring one back with us in spirit as support," Alptraum tells Arkold. "There's no way I could become one. One that could understand his name."

"Mortal souls, perhaps," the dragon says, then sighs, listening to the two chatter. "Maybe you should see the Last Echo," he suggests.

"Um, maybe we should. Unless it makes us dead in which case I'll accept the quick review," Arkold agrees. He gives Alptraum a look, shrugs, and tells him, "Maybe we could if we could get 'em out of here. Otherwise I'm not sure how to do it."

"It isn't one of Vorgulremik's Echoes," Dejeredan explains, and begins limping towards the end of the valley. "It is the one imposed on him by the last one to defeat him."

Alptraum looks at the dragon. He looks as if he's about to snap something, then simply waves his hand in a line and stops himself. "That may be helpful," he agrees.

Arkold nods to Alptraum. "It worries me too, eh? Let's see what they have to show us though." He follows after the dragon.

"It's not that. I'll explain later," Alptraum tells Arkold gruffly. He follows after the dragon.

Eluria follows along as well, until the group reaches the end of the path. A marble archway stands there, looking very out of place amidst the gloom and desolation. It practically glows, although within is only darkness.

"Is it sass from dragons? Yeah I'm tired of that too," Arkold whispers quietly where (hopefully) the sassy dragons can't hear. When they reach the gateway he peers at it uncertainly, tail twitching.

"This is as far as I or Eluria can go," the dragon explains. "But beyond this arch lies the Echo of Vorgulremik's death, set here to forever haunt him."

"Not exactly, it's the defeatism. Success or victory is vastly dependant on attitude and if you're convinced you'll be defeated, well," Alptraum whispers to Arkold quickly, then peers at the gate. He then nods and says, "All right, onward then."

"I bet that burns his tail too," remarks the wolf, sounding pleased. To Alptraum he nods again, "You've sure got that right bats. Even the best army can fall to low morale. Never give up, never surrender, eh? Well speaking of that: time to show some never-say-die attitude." And with that Arkold walks for the archway.

"Time to visit yet another echo in eternity. This makes three now, in a way: the echo of Babel of the fragment left in limbo. The echo of Ravenia's people, and now the echo of Vorgulremik," Alptraum says to no one in particular. "Ah well, may as well get used to seeing these sorts of things," he adds as his wings fold around his form some and he walks towards the gate.