Eleven days (if he's counting correctly) after the curious dream of the temple and the girl at its summit, Alptraum is troubled by another semi-lucid dream, though he has trouble remembering the details. He is fairly certain that the girl figured into it, and that she was asking him questions – questions about himself, what he remembered of the song, and that she told him something of the song … but he can't remember more than mere fragments of it. The song was a prayer, a prayer of the living to speak to the dead, a prayer of the dead to speak to the living, a notion not so alien from his previous dreams in the Sea of Souls. But beyond that, he retains little, for the dream on that night left not so strong an impression as those before.

Along the way, Alptraum and Autumn-Storm have found signs of campsites along the way, fires carefully put out and hidden, but nothing that absolutely identifies this as a sign of the travelers they're pursuing. There are various forks, but between the tracking skills of Alptraum and Autumn-Storm, they've been able to fairly confidently determine that this is the way they should be going. However, three days later, after this latest, elusive dream, Autumn-Storm and Alptraum come to … a crossroads.

One sign points northward – "Northern Shore, Castle Flaster". Another sign points to the south – "To the Chevalier Lands". Another sign points directly east – "To the Bog of Restless Dead." Another to the southeast – "Karstein County". And another to the northeast – "Draco County". To the southwest, of course, is Blackshire County, the way they came. To the northwest is just a scrawled warning that says, "Do not go this way," and the road is in such bad state that it looks like few have decided to disobey this admonition.

Autumn-Storm stops and stares at the signs, uncomprehending. She waves Alptraum over, pointing at them. She signs, "Words. Tell."

The sky is dark and cloudy – not unusual, but at the moment, it smells of a storm brewing. From the signs of tracks, it looks like there may be settlements fairly nearby – toward the north, toward the southeast, and, amazingly enough, off to the east.

Alptraum reads the sign, then nods to Autumn-Storm. He points to the first direction and says slowly, "Northern Shore, Castle Flaster". He then moves to the next and says it slowly, enunciating each syllable clearly. He proceeds through the rest this way, watching her to see if any of the directions rings a bell in her memory of the Sorcerer.

Autumn-Storm seems deep in thought as she ponders the various routes. At last, she points to the northeast.

Meanwhile, the sky continues to darken at a fairly swift pace, as the clouds roll in.

"Draco County?" Alptraum inquires. "Did he mention something about that, perhaps?" The Eeee then glances skyward, figuring they had better find shelter pretty quick.

Autumn-Storm makes a few hand-signs, but the light is failing, and she's moving too fast for Alptraum to follow. In her agitation, what with the pressing storm, she's forgetting to go nice and slow and simple for Alptraum like usual.

Meanwhile, insofar as shelter goes, there's no hint that a town is very close toward the northeast. If they go that way, they may be en route, but they'll have to shelter out the storm under the boughs of a tree, or hope for a convenient ruin of some sort. Alternatives might be found down the other roads, where he can make out a hint of distant lights, but that would take them off course.

"Right," he mutters, then signs back, "Okay. Go Road." He then points northeast. With that, he starts heading in that direction, stretching his wings out momentarily.

Autumn-Storm nods, and heads along, allowing Alptraum to lead the way. They don't get far before the rain comes down … and it comes down hard.

Alptraum reaches out and pulls the Savanite in close. One wing unfurls some and arches over her to help fend off a good portion of the rain. He squints, trying to see through the downpour and locate someplace close where they can seek shelter.

Thunder peals, and the wind blows in that way that seems to happen so often in Sylvania, whipping through branches and cage-roots to produce a howl like that of an angry host of lost souls.

Through the downpour, Alptraum spies a bobbing light, as if from a lantern held by someone else making his way through this horrid downpour … walking toward what looks like a building standing alongside the road – a wayside house, with a carriage parked out front. But even as he sees this … something tingles in his spine. Something is not right. Something is not as he sees it. He is not exactly certain how he knows, whether there's some little voice whispering this into his ear … but he just knows.

The Eeee inhales, muscles tensing. This isn't right, but what choice do we have? He heads toward the building, keeping Autumn-Storm close to make sure they don't get separated in the storm. "I don't like it," he says to her, "but we have no choice. We have to find shelter."

Autumn-Storm grips Alptraum's arm tightly – too tightly for his comfort – as she stumbles with him, rain blinding her eyes and plastering her bangs over her face. A sign hangs out of the front – an old pun, the "Dew Drop Inn". Windows of polished strips of horn braced with wooden crisscrossing frame-work let out a warm, amber glow that flickers, hinting at an even more warm fireplace inside the common room, and the two-story building is the sort that sports separate rooms. A black carriage decorated with a motif of green and red patterns of twining roses is parked under an overhang, a pair of pale Drokars bravely weathering the cold breezes that get to them, even if the raindrops don't.

The door to the inn opens briefly, as the cloaked traveler with the lantern steps inside, and Alptraum can catch the sound of a lute playing, and the smell of freshly baked bread, and hearty ale. (Not that he's ever done well with the taste of bread, but the smell is certainly associated with friendlier places than being outside in the middle of a heavy storm.)

"This should not be here," Alptraum comments grimly to Autumn-Storm. He pauses in the downpour, watching the building suspiciously. However, the tight grip of the cheetah reminds him that they really don't have much of a choice. She is not faring well in the weather; not that he is either, really. He holds his breath and approaches the door. Like the traveler before him, he opens it and steps inside…

As they step inside, they are immediately struck by the warmth of the fireplace, and they are greeted with several hearty hails from those seated at the table. "Happy Guy Fox Day!" a burly Rhian whinnies, raising his mug with one hand, using the other to hug a pretty mare sitting next to him.

Alptraum blinks repeatedly. His ears flick, catching the sounds throughout the room. His wings snap lightly, shedding off water onto the floor as he steps further inside. The Eeee looks over at Autumn-Storm to see if she's as confused as he is.

Autumn-Storm looks relieved, rather than confused. She smiles and nods to the Rhian, and signs something to Alptraum … but other than seeing the word "Day" in there, he can't quite catch it.

The Eeee taps her shoulder. "Repeat, slowly?" he asks.

Autumn-Storm signs, "Guy … Fox … Day. Fox killer go boom. Stupid fox. Go pop. Make big boom." Okay, maybe now she's deliberately just going ultra-primitive in her signing.

Alptraum glares at her momentarily, then signs back, "Fine." The Eeee leaves her side to go stand near the fireplace and dry off some. His silver eyes scan the room as he walks and his ears swivel about to try and listen to everything.

The bat can hear quite a lot – various conversations going on, the crackle of the fireplace, the music – but something pricks his awareness, that something isn't right. He just doesn't seem to be able to get a finger solidly on it. "Will you be staying the night?" an Eeee maid asks. "We have one room to spare. Five shekels for the night, hot bath water, and a breakfast in the morning."

"We're here until the storm lets up. If it takes all night, then I guess we are. But, only one room?" Alptraum asks with a glance to the cheetah. "If it's all you have, then I guess we'll have to take it." He digs into his soaked vest and withdraws five shekels. "Do I pay you directly?"

The maid shakes her head, and points to the bar, where an Eeee man – almost but not quite as old as Dimitris – wipes the counter down.

Meanwhile, it looks like Autumn-Storm has already found herself a seat … across from a young bronze-furred Kattha – No, strike that, it's another Savanite. He's the only other one in the place. It looks like they're exchanging hand-signs, but it's going by too quickly for Alptraum to notice – except that Autumn-Storm's ears wiggle frequently.

The mere fact there are two Eeee's here causes Alptraum a bit of nervousness. But, he heads over to the barkeep and says, "Good sir, I would like to take your last room, if I may." He sets down the five shekels onto the countertop, then asks, "And would you happen to have any robes we could wear until our clothes dry out?"

The older Eeee takes the coins, and nods. "Certainly, my boy. Nara there will show you to the way." He calls over Alptraum, "Nara! Something dry for them!" This prompts a head-nod and a smile from the maid, as she heads up the stairs.

Alptraum smiles and thanks the barkeep. He takes a short detour before heading up the stairs. He taps Autumn-Storm on the shoulder and informs her they have a room upstairs. Then with a quick glance to the Savanite she's conversing with, he heads up the staircase.

Autumn-Storm seemed to hardly acknowledge Alptraum, but it seems he got his message across. About midway up the stairs, though, Alptraum sees a most unusual sight – another Eeee, this one heading back down the stairs, wrapped in a thick traveler's cloak. What's different about her, though, is that she has black fur, white hair, and silvery eyes, and her wings are in a wretched state.

Alptraum stops where he is and watches the Eeee. Almost subconsciously, he steps to try and block the Eeee's path. "Um, excuse me," he says. "Have we met?"

The Eeee looks at Alptraum with sad eyes. "Yes, we have. Alptraum, this is an illusion. This is a trap. But you are not in danger. They can't touch you. I won't let them." It's the same one – the girl from the dream. That much is unmistakable.

"That's why it felt wrong," Alptraum says to her. "I knew the building shouldn't be here, but with that storm … I felt we needed shelter." He pauses, lost in thought. Slowly, he asks, "Why are you protecting me? Not that I don't want you to, but … "

"You do need shelter," the girl says. "That's why I'm not telling you to leave." Thunder peals violently outside, and the girl shudders as it shakes the building. "They show you what you want to see," she says, "to keep you here."

"I have some dry clothes for you!" comes the melodic voice of the Eeee maid, as she comes with a folded bundle to stand at the top of the stairs. "I'll put them in your room. It's the last one down the hall, on the right."

"That explains Autumn-Storm downstairs," Alptraum replies, nodding. "So, you're preventing them from showing me what I want? Are you going to stay with us tonight to make sure we won't be touched?"

"And what is it you would wish to see?" the girl asks Alptraum, her voice sounding tired, strained.

"Honestly? I don't know. Maybe my real parents just once. Maybe where the sorcerer is. A myriad of things. I can't say I want one more than the other," Alptraum tells her. "Um, would you like to go sit somewhere? You're looking worn." He then realizes something else: he won't be able to eat tonight. He'll have to find something early tomorrow, then.

The girl smiles wanly. "I have to go now. It's getting late."

"You always have to leave so quickly and yet I feel I know you," Alptraum says sadly. "I hope you will be all right."

To that, she only nods quietly, and starts back up the stairs. She melts quickly into the shadows – she is no longer there.

Alptraum sighs softly and heads the rest of the way up the stairwell. He heads down the hallway, to the last room on the right, and steps into the room.

Folded on the bed are some dry clothes, and with only a glance Alptraum knows that they just happen to be exactly the right size. The room has a very homey feel to it, and it certainly seems a welcome shelter from the storm raging outside. It's not the most luxurious of accommodations – the mattress is stuffed with straw, for instance – but Alptraum's seen far worse.

In the corner is a wooden bathtub, thoughtfully already filled up with steaming hot water to wash off the road dust, and various other accommodations making it likely that this inn caters to some of the wealthier travelers who might pass this way, despite the modest price for the night's stay.

Alptraum quietly closes the door behind him and starts disrobing. He slips off his vest and lays it out flat on the floor to air-dry faster. Quickly, he undoes the ties on his shirt that secure it below his wings and slips that off too, placing it on the floor. Lastly, he removes his trousers and so forth, then climbs into the tub. He settles down in the hot water and sighs, eyelids half-closed. He hasn't had a hot bath in ages.

The feeling is extraordinary. It's almost like being in Paradise…

Music reaches Alptraum's ears, much more clear and close than could be coming from the common room. The light grows brighter, and floral fragrances reach his nose, stronger than can be accounted for by some sort of perfume in the wash tub.

When his eyes opens, he finds that he is in a beautifully carved suspended tub of black marble, streaked with veins of white and red, resting on sculpted Drokar hooves, with an excellent view of an exquisitely formed statue and fountain.

The bath water is all bubbly and soapy, smelling of the finest perfumes. Here and there, there are others in this paradise, and the music seems more clear: a lute, a fiddle, a simple drumbeat, and the rustling chime of a tambourine.

Alptraum sits up in the tub. Oddly, he's starting to get used to nighttime visits to really strange places. He stands up in the tub slowly, ears catching the music. It sounds like something I'd hear around the tribe. How is that? Then the realization hits him and his wings snap around his body quickly. No clothes!

There are many people present – a throng, really – and given some of their exotic choices of attire, Alptraum doesn't exactly look out of place. (In fact, the soap suds clinging to him don't look much more bizarre than some of the "costumes" he sees here – or lack thereof.) Amazingly, he's not shivering from chill. Still, this is definitely one of those peculiar dreams, a new twist on the old "naked in a public place" nightmare, for sure.

Alptraum peers around for a robe or a towel, or something. This is so embarrassing, he thinks to himself. Hopefully, no one really notices him.

The lute and fiddle fall silent, and some of the people milling about part way, allowing a couple of strange-looking creatures to walk up to the statue – and for Alptraum to see them, even if they are some distance away. One of them looks almost Rhian-like in some respects, though with softer features, white fur, a golden horn, and golden scales here and there. Beside her is a creature that looks more draconic, and masculine, hard to tell whether he is a member of the same species. In any case, they seem to be a couple. The female is singing, in a voice at once melodic and disturbing – It is as if she is capable of singing in two voices at once, and her song interacts with her environment. Her songs speaks of springtime, even though she uses no words … and the plants and flowers in the courtyard perk up at her voice, slowly shifting, growing, rebelling against the confines of their nice little planters.

And, no … nobody seems to notice Alptraum. It's as if, to them, he isn't even there.

Alptraum gives up. Well, as long as no one can see me… He climbs up carefully onto the rim of the tub. His wings spread, then he glides down to the floor.

Time seems to move slowly. This creature sings, and with her song, paints a picture of springtime bursting forth after the cold of winter, and as she does so, her surroundings respond. Topiary bushes writhe, struggling with the artificial, whimsical shapes that have been imposed upon them, and finally burst forth into the wild trees they were originally shaped from. Flowers spread outward in curling vines and new blossoms open up, releasing fragrances more sweet than any perfume. The artificial structures of the plaza give way to the wild freedom of nature in its most idealized aspect, and even crystal carved into the shapes of flowers and blossoms shatters, only to magically form into the real plants that they represented. At the end of it, the singer collapses before the fountain … and a hush falls upon those gathered. Out of the corner of his eye … he can see an especially divine-looking Eeee, white-furred, much like the one who prohibited him from Paradise…

She's looking his way.

Alptraum watches in awe at the incredible spectacle he is witness to. His jaw hangs agape in astonishment at the beauty of it all. But, the moment he glimpses the Eeee staring at him, he swallows. Oh no, it's her. I'm not supposed to be here, he thinks to himself, slowly turning his head to meet her gaze.

Her face looks very much like the statue, and for a moment, Alptraum feels as if his point of view is being wrenched back to the statue. It is not so much that he turns to look at it, but that the scene that unfolds simply cannot be turned away from, something that fills the entire reality of this place, so that one cannot simply blink and miss it…

… and as the singer collapses before the fountain of wine, the statue at its center suddenly shatters, into a million fragments that drift to the ground like so much harmless glitter.

Alptraum begins walking toward this mysterious being, the shattering of the statue failing to alarm the Eeee. Again, his wings fold around his body, feeling rather self-conscious in this creature's presence. "Do you see me?" he asks quietly.

In the place of that statue is a form very like what Alptraum saw before. No, this is the one who bid him leave Paradise. There could be no other. This is what people mean when they say "Divine," comes a thought, not wholly Alptraum's own. The female figure standing on the pedestal looks like the statue in the same way that a woman looks like her child's drawing of her: it was but the crudest of copies, and could never capture the impact of the original. Words falter in their efforts to describe her: if her fur could be called white, then new-fallen snow must be the dingiest of grays. If her eyes are blue, then the sky on a summer's day must be as gloomy as winter. "Beautiful" does not touch her. She is so radiant that the riotously living courtyard around her seems pallid and dim by comparison. Inala, the Perfect Angel, looks down from the height of her dais…

… and at once, Alptraum witnesses two scenes. In one, She looks down upon the singer. She smiles. And words are exchanged between this angel, this goddess, and the mesmerized creature who summoned her…

In another vision, much more close to Alptraum's personal reality, the angel turns to look at him, somehow at the same time he observes this other chain of events going on, in a way only possible in dreams and things spiritual … and She frowns. The act fills him with considerable anguish. It is not a disapproving frown. It is not a hateful frown. It's as if something about his presence wounds Her … even though it seems that She is beyond being wounded. She is not mortal, after all.

Alptraum takes a step back, feeling smaller and more alone than ever. Her expression brings back memories of childhood he'd rather not remember. Early in his days with the tribe and how many shunned him and he just didn't understand why. What is so wrong about me that it even hurts this creature? Am I so hideous to her eyes?

As Alptraum steps back, the throng fades away, along with the singer, along with the music. Even this divine being vanishes, to be replaced by the statue that was there just a moment ago. Only the wildly overgrown plants and hedges are left as a sign that anything had transpired here – anything beyond Alptraum performing the fairly simple act of getting out of the bathtub in a crowded public place. He starts to feel cold. Very cold. As if he was still in that bathtub, and the water were no longer warm.

The Eeee's wings wrap tightly about his body as he starts to shiver. He blinks, thinking back over what he just witnessed, not understanding any of it. His brow furrows, and he reaches up to feel his cheek. It's damp. Was I crying? Did her disapproval hurt me that much?

The fragrances of flowers smell more like mildew. The distant sounds of dying music fade into rumbles of thunder, and the patter of rain on the roof … and a staccato drip-drip-drip of a leak.

Alptraum is back in the real world … again? He is in the inn room, but it's not as he remembers it. Not exactly.

He's in a bathtub, full of stagnant water. A leak in the sealing drips water that's landing somewhere near his toes in the tub.

The bed is collapsed. The condition of the mattress does not look inviting. There are some folded "clothes" – scraps of moldering fabric – and it's doubtful that they're Alptraum's size. His own clothes lie on the floor where he put them, though there are some places where it looks best not to step; some of the planks have broken way.

He can still hear faint music coming from downstairs, and sounds … but it seems he can only half-hear it … not really with his ears … but as if a voice heard upon awakening from a dream, where one is uncertain whether it was part of the dream, or real … except that this time, it keeps going on.

The Eeee looks at what he's sitting in and frowns. Carefully, he climbs out of the disgusting tub and finds a sturdy place to stand on the floor. He shakes and wipes himself down, trying to remove what water he can before going over and carefully retrieving his clothes. He dresses slowly, as if he doesn't care anymore.

Yes, it was certainly nicer while the illusion was in place. He can hear footsteps on the floorboards in the hallway. That is definitely real.

The footsteps accelerate Alptraum's move to get dressed. Quietly, he moves to stand beside the door, so he can see who comes in before they see him.

The footsteps terminate just outside the door. Someone knocks on the door. "Is everything to your liking?" comes a voice from the other side. In his head, it sounds like the maid, cheerily asking after him. But his own ears overlay a different sound – a wheezing, windy voice, unnatural, not quite alive.

Alptraum feels his heart pound in his chest. "Yes," he replies, "Everything is fine." Alptraum doesn't want to anger whatever these things are. Just get away, and fast.

"Well, just call if you need anything! The bard is calling it a night, but if you're feeling a little peckish in the wee hours, you can knock on my door at the base of the stairs, and I'll get up and fix you something," she says.

"I'll keep that in mind," he calls back through the door. The Eeee then waits until whatever that thing was walks away.

The peals of thunder grow more distant, according to his ears. But the illusion still lingering in his mind wants him to think it's blasting even harder than ever outside. Meanwhile, the footsteps walk away – to his mind, light footsteps … to his ears, an uneven shuffle.

Alptraum opens the door slowly and peers outside, down the hallway.

It's really dead out here – no big surprise by now. Once again, he gets that double image – reality and illusion – though so far he's able to tell it apart. Something tickles at his consciousness, slyly suggesting that if he would prefer the illusion, it wouldn't be so hard to imagine, and it would gladly fall back into place.

It sounds like things are winding up downstairs, and that some of Alptraum's fellow travelers have turned in for the night. It sounds like the burly Rhian he saw down in the main room must be in the next room over, perhaps having retired with that pretty mare he was with. At least, that's what the illusion tells him. His actual senses hint at the smell of freshly shed blood coming from that room.

Alptraum quickly pushes the thought away. He would not prefer the illusion. The thought then hits him as he scents blood. Oh no, Autumn-Storm and the other Savanite.

The scent doesn't go away. No one approaches Alptraum. For the moment, he is alone in the silence … and he can more keenly pick up sounds in the building…

Downstairs, there are sounds of creaking wood, of weight being shifted … someone walking about. In the room with the scent of blood, there are more sounds of movement, but not much at all. And there are the occasional leaks in the ceiling, and a section down the corridor where a large hole has been knocked in the roof by a fallen tree limb, letting in quite a bit of rain.

Alptraum steps into the hall and listens for Autumn-Storm's breathing. With the time he's spent with her on the road, he hopes he can tell her apart from the others. Being that the others are dead, it may help matters.

Only momentarily, he hears a muffled noise – a gasp for breath – three doors down, and to the left. Maybe that's her; either that, or something else that gasps for breath.

Alptraum bolts down the hallway, watching the floor as he goes to avoid any broken planks. He skids to a halt in front of the door where he heard the gasp and attempts to open it.

Locked. Yes, he can hear another noise. It's Autumn-Storm. She's in there. And she's not alone.

Alptraum presses his ear to the door. The thought does strike him, Perhaps the other was a guest and they are, um… I'd rather not make a fool of myself.

Alptraum fidgets uncomfortably in front of the door. They could be just, um, having fun. Or, she could be in serious danger. He looks up and down the hallway. She's the only friend I have out here. If I can even consider her that, really, he thinks to himself. Better alive and mad at me, I guess… The Eeee backs up to the far wall, then surges forward and slams his body's weight against the door.

The rotten wood splinters and falls apart, though in the "other version", the door merely pops open at his effort. Yes, it's Autumn-Storm, yes, she's with that Savanite from downstairs, and while things weren't quite as embarrassing as he might have feared, it's bad enough to still look awfully embarrassing if he's wrong. She certainly looks none too pleased at his intrusion, grabbing up a bedcover to hide behind, pulling from a session of intense muzzle-mashing. As for her companion, though, it can be safely said that he looks far better in the illusion.

The reality is far less palatable – a withered corpse that might not even be Savanite – Khatta at best, and the corpse is in such bad shape that it's hard to even be sure of that identification. Yes, if Autumn-Storm knew what was really going on, she would be more appreciative of the intrusion.

Alptraum's muscles tense, and he snarls. As his lips draw back, his fangs glint wetly in the dim lighting. His fingers clench and unclench, claws clicking against each other softly. The next thing he knows, he's leaping on the decayed corpse, tearing into it wildly with his claws. For the first time, Alptraum tries to be horrifying, silver eyes narrow and cold, lips pulled back.

The corpse doesn't stand a chance. Even though the Savanite in the phantom vision may look fairly muscular, the withered cadaver doesn't seem to have much special strength provided by whatever magic animates it. Alptraum's claws tear into rotten flesh, rending it asunder, snapping bone, and tearing apart the creature in short order. Autumn-Storm reacts in horror, falling off of the bed, stumbling backward, her feet tangling in the moldering sheets as she trips and crawls to back against the wall, narrowly avoiding a hole in the floor.

What she sees – and what Alptraum can still sense – is this Savanite fellow being rent from limb to bloody limb, with such violence that one might even be inclined to laugh to think that a bat could ever be capable of such carnage in but a few seconds. Creaking floor boards hint at approaching footsteps, and shouts sound out throughout the inn.

Shouts … or moans and howls. It depends on one's perspective.

The Eeee stands hunched over the remains of the creature, breathing slowly, body heaving. He turns to Autumn-Storm and slowly approaches her. "Get your stuff. We're leaving now," he snarls, saliva dripping from his fangs. His head turns to look at the doorway, and says, "And prepare for a fight. You must try to see past the illusion, Autumn-Storm. We're the only things alive in here. Look at your 'lover', see him for what he is: a rotting Kattha."

Autumn-Storm just shakes her head, eyes wide, and if there's anything she's trying to disbelieve, it seems that she's trying to disbelieve Alptraum. Meanwhile, a lumbering shape comes into view just outside the door – Alptraum can "see" it more quickly in his mind's eye, since the "phantom" inn has better lighting. There is the Rhian, the one who wished him a Happy Guy Fox Day, the one with the mare – who now clings, frightened, behind him, scream-whinnying when she sees the scene of carnage. But what Alptraum actually sees is different: a lumbering corpse, still leaking recently shed blood, his eyes staring blankly, looking like he may have very recently been among the living … and a clawed and withered corpse, almost rodent- rather than horse-like, clinging to his side, her claws still wet from "caressing" him to death.

"Autumn, please! I can't fight these two alone. Snap out of it! See the reality!" he calls out to the cheetah. He turns to face these new creatures, snarling at them in reply. A small smirk curls up at the corners of his mouth and he backs up slowly, stepping just in front of the hole that Autumn-Storm missed falling through.

"Murderer!" the mare-rodent-thing (whatever it is) shrieks out. "He'll kill her, too!"

The large Rhian, at this, charges forward, flexing his sizeable muscles (which are sizeable in reality as well as in the illusion), as he charges Alptraum.

And just outside in the hall, Alptraum can hear others shuffling about. The whole inn has been "awakened", in one manner or another, and seems intent upon converging on this spot now.

"Kill her? I saved her," the Eeee snarls back. His legs tense up as the Rhian charges. He tries to sidestep at the last minute.

However, the trouble of seeing things as they are in reality and wrestling with their illusory doubles causes Alptraum's timing to be a wee bit off. The floor here is a bit slick from rain leaking through. He moves to the side, just as the Rhian charges into him, such that he doesn't take the full force of the blow, but he is still in the way, and therefore, both of them go crashing through the hole, into the main room below. This is, to say the least, very hard on Alptraum, though he manages to land without the Rhian on top of him. The Rhian, instead, hits the rotten floor boards of the common room, and smashes right through them, on into the cellar. Upstairs, Autumn-Storm is screaming. And around Alptraum, he can definitely see that the Common Room is not quite like he remembered it. No, this is definitely the worst inn he has ever seen.

The Eeee groans loudly as he lays in pain on the floor. He gasps for breath, trying to find his voice. "Autumn," he rasps, "Autumn, run! Run now! Get out of there!" After shouting, he tries to get back to his feet, eyes darting around to see what creatures may remain down here.

Actually, none of them are still down here, having all as one gone up the stairs toward the room with Autumn-Storm. "Here, let me help you up, girl," comes a "soothing" voice. "Don't worry, you'll be all right," comes another. But down here, Alptraum can see not only on account of the occasional lightning flash, but because there are candles down here. There is a large spot of the floor, near the fireplace, adorned with some elaborately formed circles and other geometric forms, transcribed with runes, and surrounded by a ring of black candles, eerily glowing with what look more like will-o'-wisps than true flames.

The furniture is about – chairs, tables, and such – though in much worse condition (of course!) than they appeared earlier. Some have collapsed and broken apart entirely, while others are more or less intact, being of solid construction and not directly positioned under a leak.

Alptraum forces himself to his feet, face contorted in pain. He makes his way over to one of the chairs and picks it up, then heads toward the circle near the fireplace. Snarling and hoping what he's about to do will stop this horror, he raises the chair high. Moments later, he brings it crashing down at a diagonal angle into the circle, trying to destroy or knock over the candles – and, if he's really lucky, break the circles.

The candles are knocked over easily enough, and as he does so, a wind blows through the room, knocking up the dark charcoals used to make the patterns, and sending it up in a cloud of smoke. He can hear several loud thumps from upstairs, in rapid succession, and then an unearthly yowling sound that he can only interpret as being a Savanite scream. The will-o'-wisps explode in a shower of sparks as their individual candles are knocked over … and with a whump, the sparks immediately start small fires on the floor, with an unnatural – or supernatural – vigor, as if the floor were made of paper, rather than rotten planks.

The Eeee drops the broken remains of the chairs and runs toward the stairway as fast as he can. "Autumn, get up and follow my voice. We have to get out of here," he calls out. "I'm coming!"

Autumn-Storm stumbles out of the bedroom, trembling and horror-stricken as she tries to keep from touching the corpses lying on the floor, clutching the moldering bed sheet and hiding her mouth. A couple of the stairs threaten to break under Alptraum's footsteps, but fortunately, Eeee are fairly light. (If the Rhian had attempted running up the stairs, he would have ended up in the cellar far sooner tonight, that's for sure, illusion or no.)

The fire is spreading across the floor downstairs at a horrific rate. It's no longer as if the place were made of paper. It's as if the whole floor were soaked in oil. Given all the smells in this place, that possibility can't be entirely ruled out.

"Grab what you can of our stuff," he tells the Autumn-Storm and looks back in the bedroom for a window. Can't use the stairs now, he thinks, I can't fly with her, but I think I could manage a landing glide for a short distance.

Yes, there's a window, and the shutters have long fallen off, and the horn slats broken away, leaving an open space that lets the drizzle in. (At least it's not raining buckets now. That would add insult to injury.) Autumn-Storm looks about the dead bodies, as if trying to gather her resolve to do any sort of moving about at this point.

Alptraum looks around the room for their travel gear. Once he locates it, he gathers up what he can then marches over to Autumn-Storm and thrusts it into her arms. He then places his hand on her shoulder and tries to pull her back into the room so they can attempt escape.

Autumn-Storm stumbles after him, dazed, almost as if sleep-walking. But … curiously enough … she pauses, next to the head of the "Savanite", and reaches down … plucking a medallion from his remains. Even in shock, and she's still a rogue…

Acrid smoke begins to build up, and the room is now fairly well lit from the fire visible through the floor and the open door to the corridor outside. Alptraum can hear some of the woodwork elsewhere in the inn groaning and collapsing. This place is going fast.

Alptraum can't help but laugh briefly. He turns her and positions her back to the window. "You're going to hate me for this, but," he says quickly and wraps his arms around her in a tight hug. He then shoves himself forward and attempts to propel them through the hole that was the window, wings tense and ready to snap out in a glide the moment his upper body clears the frame.

Vision is briefly obscured as they pass through a cloud of thick smoke coming from a window on the lower story … but they nonetheless make it safely (if not entirely gloriously) to the rain-slicked grass outside, where Autumn-Storm collapses to the ground, curling in on herself, a spotted golden ball of wet fur and moldy scraps of cloth.

Alptraum looks back at the burning building. For a moment, he just sits there, staring at it. Wondering how he managed to get out of there alive. He shakes his head slowly and turns to look at the Savanite. Carefully, he scoots himself over beside her and arches his wings up to shield her from the rain. He reaches out, hesitating for a moment. She'll probably think me a monster too, now, echoes in his mind darkly. But, he does reach out to her and pet along her arm in an attempt to comfort her. "I'm sorry, Autumn-Storm. I know how much it meant to you to have someone you thought you could talk to. Someone other than some crazed Eeee. But, he wasn't real. He would have killed you had I not barged in. I'm sorry for destroying your dream, but that's all it was: a trap," the Eeee says gently.

Autumn-Storm sits there, sniffling, her eyes moist from more than just rain. But at last, she breaks the moment, as she fishes out the medallion, showing it to Alptraum. It has some odd runes and cryptic designs on it … and they strike him as a bit familiar. In a moment, it comes to him – some of these patterns were similar to what was drawn out on the floor of the inn. She holds it out, as if to pass it to him, shifting it in her fingers.

Alptraum accepts the amulet and looks over it slowly. "I think the sorcerer left us a calling card," he tells her. "This pattern is what I destroyed when I was downstairs. I think this trap was set for us. He might be what is called a 'necromancer'."

The cheetah nods slowly. She carefully signs, "He … did … wear … this." She pantomimes, drawing a "chain" around her neck, then more self-consciously adjusts the remains of the sheet … and looks meaningfully to Alptraum, gesturing with her finger in a twirling motion he has come to recognize as "turn around".

The Eeee does so and sits facing away from the Savanite.

A little while later, both are more appropriately equipped for traveling the roads, if not necessarily as dry as they would like to be. For what it's worth, the rain has tapered off to a drizzle, and it seems that somehow they've managed to take up enough of the night that there's a glow on the horizon, as dawn is approaching. There's little left of the building now, and the fire has burned down.

Alptraum stands in the drizzle, looking on towards the horizon. Why is this happening to me? Why do I keep going to these strange places in my dreams? Are they real, somewhere? He shrugs. Only the future knows that for sure. He turns to look at his traveling companion, his white hair matted down and stringy from the rain. He offers her a small, sad, smile and he says, "You'll find someone real someday, Autumn-Storm." He then raises one hand and signs, "Promise."