Collab: In the Mists of Madness PT3

**

Red and Shenara trudged through the purple mist. Thankfully, everything seemed safe. In fact, a familiar figure moved into view:

“Red... Red is that you? I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”

"Who's there?" Red called out.

She could hear Tallana, her mother’s, voice calling: "It's me, dear... What's going on?"

Red immediately, and confusingly, got a memory of when she was a young male fox, awoken by her mother who was frothing at the mouth: "My dear, I know what is going on!"

A flash of lightning, and eyes appeared and disappeared. Shenara was not around to ask anymore somehow the two had become separated.

Something wasn't right, Red's memory of someone else's life faded away as the familiar voice spoke again.  

"My dear, wake up! WAKE UP!"

Tallana was still before her, beckoning. The sky was a burning blue.

"Mother?" Red asked, "You can't be here... I... this is a trick." She felt tears in her eyes. "A cruel trick."

Tallana’s hand rested on her shoulder-- a hand as hard as iron and as heavy as a cart-horse. Her mother was shorter than Red remembered. She suddenly found herself outside of the fog: Two burning blue embers slowly advanced on her. The voice was familiar: “My dearest... Come to me...”

From somewhere in the fog, Red heard Shenara weeping loudly.

Red’s sadness turned to fury as she recognized who she presumed was responsible. The fact he was using the memory against her filled her with hate. Jack the archbishop, stood before her his body seemingly like a statue of a fox, carved out of smooth obsidian; the results of a buffing spell.

"Jack? You scum!" Red raged as she lashed out with her booted foot to his groin. Buffing spell or not a kick to the bollocks was a kick to the bollocks.

The figure lurched backwards slightly, and then regained composure. Red could feel that her boot did not accomplish much.

The figure stepped out of the fog

Its movements were much more controlled, much less mammalian. Suddenly, like a horrifying puppet show, it moved: This time in Red’s full view. It looked to the left, then the right, then straight into Red’s eyes: Its violent blue gaze burning itself into Red’s.

Red backed away trying to stay out of the figures reach her hands out ready as she cirlcled the fox.

She could still hear Shenara crying softly and muttering in the fog.

Jack looked around slowly, almost like he was confused as well.

"What is this?" Red asked, keeping her distance.

Jack and Red move away from the violet fog as it inched closer from the docks.

Slowly, Red coul tell that Jack was becoming his old self except instead of his usual, gently flowing white-and-blue priestly robes, his robes were tight against his frame: black with shifting blue lines. He glanced at Red’s sword. He ignored her question:

“Daedalian, eh? I was under the impression that--”

He stopped and then both heard something: A scraping. Slowly, along the cobblestone streets, the stuffed owl on a pedastal from Farah’s heist slowly approached the two. It was moving on its own through the rain from the depths of the town.

The Jackal flattened her ears at the owl.

"Jack, start explaining things. I know you know something." She kept her sword out.

The owl was meters from them now: It was tattered and rain-soaked as it clambered toward them. Jack looked up at Red, his eyes were wide and his mouth agape. He looked at the approaching fog, then back at the owl, then back at Red. Clearly unsure of what to do.

Usually the mage/priest and head of the smuggling operations had everything seemingly under his control. He’d always seemed to be a step ahead of everyone, even Red had found he’d ran circles around her in their rivalry. But now he just seemed lost.

"Run or stay, it's your choice." She said to Jack.

The strange and alien totem... Or whatever it was kept closing in on them.

Jack, was still nervous: "I'm curious what your choice would be, my dear..."

"I'm not leaving without Shenara." Red said. "What is that thing? A golem of some sort?"

It was yards closer, it’s features more distinctive: a small owl in attack pose on a pedestal of carved wood with strange markings...

Jack became his cocky self again: "It is something you could never understand, madam jackal... Heh..."

She snarled in response. "Simplify it then." She suggested as she grabbed Jack's arm and pulled him along behind her. She kept her sword aimed for the owl. As she circled away towards Shenara's weeping.

Jack, with his soft features including a devil-may-care head fluff and a white patch around each light blue eye, seemed shocked as he was physically grabbed by Red--

Red forgot how foxes actually were. He barely resisted as Red pulled him behind her. Red had been told that male foxes were usually very gentle canines. However Jack being an established priest and secret archmage trying to control a whole city allowing an enemy to physically pull him along was odd.

“Uh- w- Madam, I-- I prote-- ... It... I am ashamed to say what that thing is,” he said, pointing at the owl, “... That purple fog, however: is all your doing, I believe...”

"I want answers," Red shouted. "What was in those crates? Answer, or I'll leave you for that."

They continued back to the fog, the purple mist surrounded them and then it seemed like everything changed.

Red felt rested for the first time in a while. She was in a strange bed with a young male fox held against her chest. Another male fox, dressed as a mariner, entered the room and hung his feathered hat on the bed post.

“Hello, my dear. How did you sleep?”

"Wait. I'm not." Red looked down at herself. Orangeish red and black fur covered her body, she was dressed in a gray shift that seemed a bit too small.

She shook her head, "It's an illusion, find Shenara." She reminded herself.

The little fox cried out “Mama?” as she rose. “Mama? Please, before you go, please say you love me?”

The pirate fox looked at Red, saddened.

Illussion or not, the plea struck Red. "I love you," She said hoping it'd bring some good.

When Red opened the door, the wind from the storm outside was deafening. The illusions, or whatever they are, didn't seem to notice.

The piratical Fox watched her go sadly. “Farewell, my love.”

The little fox mewed at Red: He looked like Jack, but very young.

Son of a... That had to be Jack as a kid. To think he was such a cute kid.... Red moved into the storm.

Red could see a campfire ahead with three figures, one of which is a large lioness, hunched around another figure that looked fallen and twitching. After Red closed the door, she felt a tugging at her pants: Little Jack followed her. The wind was so violent that he was barely able to hold on to her.

                                          **

Meanwhile, Farah was considered continuing down the river of the sewer, when she saw a very faint glow of a fire ahead; up above was a slick wall to a manhole cover, through which a mysterious purple fog floated down from above.

Curious who else would be down there, Farah moved toward the fire.

She approached cautiously: it was a gang of creatures in hoods... with very long ears poking out... whispering to each other around a little fire.

“We move within the hour, no one suspects we’re down here, when we strike the temple will fall.”

Farah didn’t know what they were on about buy she probably didn’t want any part of it, she could just make out an armed contingent of squirrels, hares and a badger. Farah doubled back toward the manhole cover. She hadn't had the best experiences with those particular types.

She climbed up to the surface and... it was morning! Not only was it morning, but the rain has cleared and Farah was back with her ferret and weasel brethren back in her homeland! There she was amongst the thieves’ guild: the only real family she'd ever known-

But she'd left them...

"I'm a lone thief now," Farah kept repeating.

The scene shifted and Farah’s crystal burned even brighter. She was back at the Inn: Temple of Virtue waiting for someone while the doll sat at the head of the small wooden table. Through the front door, someone in a crimson robe with a cowl entered. The darkness where the stranger’s face should have been was as black as blood in the moonlight. The person sat across from Farah. The tavern was completely empty except for the three of them.

Outside a storm was raging, blasting wind tearing a nearby building apart, but it didn’t seem to be affecting the inn.

"Wait, these are someone else's memories. But whose?" She watched on the crystal reminding her that she was dealing with superntural forces.

The stranger rocked their head slightly, back and forth, as a music box lullaby starts emanating from the doll.

Suddenly, the ceiling and table is littered with straw dolls of children: hares, squirrels, mice and other small prey animals. The ones that hung from the ceiling, had fishing wire around their necks. On the table, about a dozen have been cut lengthwise in their bellies, the stuffing strewn around the table. There were the remains of a straw doll of what looked like an adult hare on the table, its opened chest decorated with medals, the face torn open.

The stranger looked at Farah and emits some whistles and clicks. This seems like code: Farah had heard it before from a few friends of hers who had been in certain military associations.

The whistle code was simple to interpret: “Emergency! Emergency! Emergency!”

The dolls, it had to be connected with the one she had. They represented murdered children, the victims of Duskmane. "Yes. Emergency. Show me."

The figure jumped up and ran to the door. It beckoned Farah, and then ran into the wild storm.

"Oh, great. Follow the apparition. That always ends well." Farah muttered as she followed.

The storm was violent. Ahead of Farah was a campfire, but about 30 feet away she could see a regular doorway with a jackal emerging from it. In the far distance beyond was a glow-- possibly of a huge fire.

"Who are you?" Farah called seeing the jackal.

"Shenara?" the jackal asked aloud. She thought she heard another voice in the wind.

A little fox emerged from the doorway as well, but was ignored as the doorway closed. Farah could see him practically blown away in the wind of the storm.

The figures around the campfire noticed the two of them. They looked up, but were still tending to their fallen comrade.

                                        **

Red heard a voice call: "Who are you?"

"Shenara?" Red asked aloud. She thought she heard another voice in the wind.

Red noticed a... a weasel? A ferret? Calling out to her.

Red pulled young Jack along towards the fire.

Farah closed the distance and noticed the fur color of the jackal. This was undoubtedly Red, the one she'd heard so much about.

"Play it easy," Farah told herself.

She trudged for the fire.

Jack clung to Red. Shenara, an older hare with medals and a female otter were huddled over a vixen in leather armor laying on the ground shaking violently. She was heavily armed, a magic staff was laying to her side.

Shenara’s, eyes were wet, as she called the two over: “Thank gods, thank gods, she’s-- she’s not well! Please help!”

The vixen's light blue eyes were wide open, looking from face to face in absolute terror. The wind was still blowing.

"What happened?" Red asked kneeling down.

Farah stopped at the edge. "Uh, hi."

Farah felt her stone crackling and vibrating. She could hear a scratching noise as... what in the Hells? Some kind of owl on a pedestal was moving toward the group on its own accord. It was about 50 yards away in the sparse woodland.