Beyond the Wall of Sleep

[Glenn]

"This is necessary." Glenn Burnie mumbled to himself as he sat at his cluttered desk in his even more cluttered room in Darkenhold. That he was talking with himself was never a good sign. That he was actively arguing with himself made it considerably worse. "Alright, it's necessary, but I shouldn't do it here." Here, being the home of Ariane Emory, though it was his home as well. It was Ariane who had convinced him that action was necessary, however, and it was Ariane who had convinced him that he simply couldn't kill the mad drow.

The young mapmaker had no desire to see anyone uninvolved in the situation hurt by any of this, by his mistakes and his poor decisions, and even by his necessary ones. Trying to break ties with Jirai before had led to the death of three people. He believed that was the cause of their deaths, whether she had truly killed the people for that reason or not. He HAD to believe it, or at least believe in the possibility. He was responsible. Taking fifteen Constables with him to kill her might result in a dead drow, but likely at the cost of the lives of over ten Constables.

Ariane had convinced him that he needed to break his ties and get the madwoman out of his life. She had convinced him that killing her was not the answer, that it would be a very costly solution. She had not, however, convinced him that THIS was not the best answer, even though she had broken her hand trying. So he would do it here, where he felt safest and most secure. He would cross over lines that were on the very edge of wretched and inhuman, that were on the very edge of magic itself.

Curiosity was Burnie's curse. Usually, it had its limit and that limit was magic, dark or light, superstition or ritual, no matter how useful or tempting such power would be. The only exemption was a matter of defense, and then only when it was necessary. If he was attacked with some form of magic, he would learn of it, would learn how to counter it. Twice now, though only once since he arrived, the good people of Myrken (and many of the bad) had found their dreams assaulted by a specific outside force. The first such incident came during a time of chaos. No investigation was made after the fact. No steps were taken to prevent such a thing from happening again. So it did. This second time, Burnie was afflicted as well. It ended in a permanent scarring and the breaking down of key protective mental shields. It was that incident that led, indirectly, to Glenn and Rhaena being cursed and the veiled girl's maiming earlier this year.

So Burnie trained and Burnie learned. There was Lamai to train one's mind with. There were Vanidor's coven of elves to learn arcane knowledge and history from. Most of all, there was Valgar, a strange, doomed man, afflicted with a malady that he had hoped Myrken might cure. It was this green-skinned stranger who knew so very much about dreams, who travelled in them and through them as if they were dusty, well-trod roads just a doorframe away. Burnie spent four diligant months watching this man wither and weaken while being trained, spent over a hundred nights with the Valgar entering his dreams so that he might learn to protect himself, so that he might learn how to spot when he was dreaming and when he was not.

And towards the end, after Valgar offered the knowledge multiple times, Glenn Burnie finally learned how to enter someone's dream. It was only by truly understanding what had happened to him that he could learn how best to prevent it. That was the mindset then. Certainly, it was nothing he would ever use on a practical level. Except for here he was, holding the totem in his hand. Three such lodestones were created made from a throwing blade that the drow had used, wrapped carefully in a piece of her hair, and smeared with a tiny bit of her blood intermingled with his. It would not let him in to her dreams. His training and her own insanity would allow for that. It would simply serve as a way for him to find them.

... for him and two others, for he was not about to attempt this alone. There was too much he did not know and too much he could not begin to expect. Jirai was insane and her dreams were so much a part of that. She rarely knew when she was awake and whens he was asleep. Madness. He did not wish to brave them alone. Suede Roschen had been tempted to come along, if only to sate the tailor's own curiosity. It was his child with Jirai that the Drow had wanted Burnie to find, a task so inhuman that Glenn simply misled her instead of accomplishing it. Still, despite how well Roschen knew the drow and her mind, there would be far much room for backstabbings from either him or the mapmaker. Therefore, Seth Bloodmoon was given the second totem. Burnie trusted him above most others. In the last shared dream, Bloodmoon had, in fact, been stabbed in the back by Jirai. It was all personal in the end. No one unrelated would be involved.

So long as they kept the totem nearby... so long as they were all asleep at the same time, the time that all discernable patterns showed that the Drow was most likely to be asleep, they would enter the dream together. Then their task would begin. Glenn Burnie, being unable to kill the madwoman without a huge cost of life, had decided upon another solution.

He intended to drive her utterly sane... and that was the very least he intended.

[Suede]

When Glenn Burnie initially proposed this idea to him, he'd be skeptical. Not only that, but utterly resistant to such a weak plot. Despite a marginal sense of curiosity, he didn't trust Glenn anymore than the mapmaker trusted him. But Suede didn't even trust himself.

What had bothered him most of all was how from the moment the two had met Glenn had spent most of the time buttering him up with compliments to his ability to hide and intelligence... before riding him about his choice to hide. It didn't really instill in him a desire to help.

Truth be told he thought they could all be damned, may they rot in the corpse of Myrken, especially Jirai. At least that's what he kept telling himself as he tossed the totem from one hand to the other. He found it in one of his visits to the shop he used to claim old items, or to access old tunnels. It had been lying in the same place he'd found Glenn's last message, left with a small note about its purpose. He'd taken it, telling himself he didn't care.

He told himself he didn't care what happened as he'd taken it back to his latest haunt. Said it again as he wandered down, and down into the room he used to sleep. In his life, there wasn't truly a safe place to rest, but this bolt hole was one no one else knew about, and should afford him a bit of time. But he wasn't going to get involved.

The small, damp room lacked the luster of his bedroom. There were no opulent wall hangings, no silk sheets, fine carpets to thicken the floor, or even a true lamp. A few flickering candles were used to hold down a map of the province. His eyes were looking at the map, but he didn't see it.

If Glenn went in and he drove Jirai even crazier, it could be bad for Suede. If Glenn went in and wound up killing Jirai, he wouldn't care right? He stopped tossing the totem and glared at it. Right?

...
...

"Son of a bitch." He threw the blade with force and the bed and dropped down after it. He still didn't care, he just wanted to watch the show.

[Seth_Bloodmoon]

Almost absently, Seth studied the totem Glenn had given to him, sitting on the edge of the bed in the room he had rented at the Dagger. Brilliant blue eyes focused upon the hair wrapped lodestone that had a miniscule smear of blood on it. A thoughtful expression played across his angular features as he tilted his head slightly towards his right shoulder.

So this was something that would bring him into a dreamscape? Bring him into the dreams of a drow woman who's mind was apparently off kilter from what little he knew of her? Well, with the mapmaker's help of course. As these thoughts played through his mind he raised his free hand to stroke at his chin thoughtfully. What would it be like to walk amongst another's dreams?

Then, for a moment his thoughts turned to the woman who's dreams would be invaded. The woman who had brought about his death in another dreamscape. Seth held no grudge against her for that. Well, alright, maybe he did harbor a little bit of a grudge. Truly, knowing even what little he did about her, she was a woman he'd dislike anyways. In fact, the world would probably be a far better place if she were brought to a permanent end. Well, in his opinion at least.

A breath of air was drawn into his lungs and exhaled slowly in a heavy sigh. Did really have the room to make such a judgment though? Surely there wee those in his homelands that felt the same about him. No, Seth knew he was likely just as much of a monster as the drown seemed to be, or at least he had been at one time in his long life.

Finally, Seth brushed his thoughts aside, though he still studied the lodestone. Glenn had come to him, and asked for his help. Under normal circumstances, the tall elf might have turned down such a request. Aiding someone in driving another person insane, or even more insane just didn't settle well with him. Even if it was someone who should be considered an enemy. However, the circumstances were far from normal, and the mapmaker was a good friend. Thus Seth had agreed to help him, and would do everything in his power to do so.

[Jirai]

When did Jirai sleep? Where did she sleep, for that matter?

Both of those matters were highly variable. As Glenn had gathered, the dark elf frequently seemed unaware of whether or not she was awake or asleep. And why should she? Once your dreams had been so soundly altered by the Dreamwaker, once reality had been turned ephemeral by that same being, what difference was there, really? So she slept when she had to, if sleep you could call it.

~*~

"Well I think we should!"

"No, no, we should just tax them more, mmmph mmmph."

"What are you talking about, you moron?"

"Squawk!"

"Who're you calling a moron?!"

"Not you, him!"

"What!"

It was the Meetinghouse. Or, rather, the Meetinghouse that had been. Almost. While easily recognizable to those familiar with the destroyed building, many details were subtly different. The colors, the angles... infinitesimal changes that were often unidentifiable in specific, but served to create a sense of wrongness

Much the same were the men spread around the table, arguing. All recognizable - did one know them in the first place - but all wrong.

There was Altias Bromn, dressed in a torn, bloodstained gown. Treadwell was beside him, as much an eyesore as ever. Next was Kerrak al'Nerun, prodding at Giscard Guillame, who was slumped over the table, asleep, unconscious, or dead - it was hard to say. Past him stood Treadwell, dressed in a chicken suit, of all things. All of the Councilmen were odd looking, even beyond their clothing. The skin tone was off, old wounds that did not exist in reality were clearly visible.

And then the chicken-suited Treadwell started gnawing on Guillame's head.

"Hey! That's mine!"

"No, mine!"

"MINE!"

As for the drow in question, she was not immediately visible - but her giggles were definitely audible.

[Glenn]

Glenn Burnie was expecting something akin to the horrorworld they experienced during the last shared dream. He was prepared for that, mentally prepared, that was. The tailor was right to doubt the mapmaker in this instance. His plan was ill-defined at best and at the worst, was no plan at all. Somehow, he thought that he would simply notice something within this dream, without effort, that would show him the path, that would show him how to force her back to the sanity Ariane Emory claimed that the Drow once held. It would be the most natural thing in the world... even in the midst of this unnatural, inhuman act.

Yet, neither unspeakable horror nor assured truth was before him now. Instead there was... this. For a moment, he doubted his own sanity, even doubted that this was a dream at all. It was so vivid and frighteningly enough, his mind had gotten rather attuned to Jirai's inclinations over the last many months. Over that time, HIS sanity had threatened to slip. So then, in response to this worry, the young bravo would pull forward his collar and look down to his collarbone: there was nothing there, no mark, no scar, no symbol, no blade... nothing. "Well, at least I know it's her dream. We're certainly not awake." There was a glance behind him for Bloodmoon and Roschen, to see if he was in fact a "we." Had all worked correctly, they would be with him, and he would see that as, perhaps, the most welcome thing in the world. Oh, he had the means and the determination to impose his own will upon this dreamscape even at this early moment, but part of him just HAD to see this macabre scene play out. Glenn Burnie was always the sort who never knew when to look away. His curiosity was his greatest enemy.

[Suede]

Suede was there, a fuzzy image at first, but it became more clear as he found his way to where Glenn was. If you could call it that, he wasn't sure what he had done, or if he had even done anything at all, to reach the mapmaker. The tailor was busy patting himself down and stomping his feet lightly to ensure he was entirely there when Glenn glanced back at him.

The old Council was before him, almost. Suede himself was not present, and that puzzled him a bit. This was clearly the politicians as they were, except with an additional Treadwell, right down to the senseless bickering. He glanced at his one... or was it two... comrades and smirked.

"This is just how I remember it." He sounded faintly nostalgic.

The tailor was eyeing Chickenwell when he began to chew on Guillame. He stared. This wasn't exactly what he expected the inside of Jirai's mind to be like, and that concerned Suede greatly. He hid that worry behind a banal face as he considered. Where were the spiders, the darkness, the random blood and stabbings, and the terrible screams? There was only the Council, and Jirai's hidden laughter. If he knew her at all, then he was about to get stabbed in the back. With an alacrity people never considered of him, he suddenly spun at the waist and waved a hand about behind him. Better to be to be certain and safe, it wasn't cowardly. This is what he told himself as he searched for anything tangible.

[Seth_Bloodmoon]

Seth, too was there, having 'flickered into existance' behind Glenn. A moment or two was taken to ensure he was in one piece seeing as he had no real idea as what to expect. Content that all was well, with himself at least, a nod was given to Glenn upon noticing the glance cast his way, a half-smile quirking at one corner of his mouth. Another slight nod of his head would be offered to Suede, whom he didn't really know much of.

Having never seen the Meetinghouse, the tall elf didn't recognize the surroundings. However, it was clear that there was something not right about the place. Which, all in all, was not surprising seeing as they were apparently within the dream of a madwoman. At the very least, it wasn't like that fetid, hellish landscape from the other dreamscape.

A silvery brow was quirked as he took in the sight of the Council Members, of which he only recognized three. Well, it was only two, but seeing as there was a Treadwell in a chicken suit he counted it as three. This was definately not the dream of a stable individual, he thought to himself as the Council yammered and the chicken suited Treadwell began to gnaw on someone's head who Seth did not know. Now that wasn't something a person saw every day, that's for sure.

Slowly, Seth turned in a full circle where he stood, brilliant blue orbs attempting to seek out the source of the giggles, or anything else of importance. While he might seem at complete ease, or unphased by the wonderful scene the drow's dream had provided, he was definately on guard. It was always definately better to be safe rather than sorry. As he completed his turn about he absently murmured, "Interesting to say the least..," which was surely putting it lightly.

[Jirai]

It was perhaps interesting that there wasn't a Suede at the table with the Councillors. Perhaps it meant something, perhaps it meant nothing more than slightly less chance for confusion. Dreams were odd things, after all.

The arguing (and eating) continued as the three intruders appeared, until the dream-Kerrak suddenly took notice of their presence.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen, no need to fight." He assured the others, distracting them from Chickenwell and his gristly meal. "Look, there's one for each of us!"

"I get the elf!" The dress-wearing Bromn interjected excitedly, all but launching himself at Seth. Kerrak drew a stick out of his sword sheath and advanced towards Glenn Burnie while Treadwell seemed intent on trying to just smother Suede with rolls of fat that were even larger than they were in real life.

It was about then that Jirai made her first appearance, seemingly popping out of nowhere to stare in frustration at the scene before her. The dark elf looked much like she did in real life. Or, more specifically, much like she had looked several years in the past. Her face was scarred, red leather traded for black - but she still had that crossbow slung over her shoulder and daggers in her hands. Clearly irritated, she expressed her emotions in typical Jirai manner: by flinging both those daggers, one at Altias and one at Glenn.

[Glenn]

Seth and Suede. Excellent. Some real relief in young Burnie's shoulders, even in the face of this insanity. He wasn't alone. That was something. Given his own arguably poor decision-making, that was quite a bit indeed. Maybe it was all he had here and now, in this place with this plan.

And then, before he could say anything to either of them, there was Jirai, Jirai and her blades. This was a dream. He knew it. His unscathed collarbone, without even the pink marks of recent healing proved it. If the totems were lodestones leading towards the dreams of the Drow, the lack of a scar was a touchstone, something that let him know, without a doubt, that he was in a dream. It was a technique that Jirai could have used, but then he had repeatedly offered to share Valgar's lessons with her. She never seemed too keen on the idea. Regardless, as this was a dream, his survival-honed speed was even more considerable.

Burnie dashed forward, snatching the blade from midair with an almost eerie precision. He was very good at dodging them while awake; he ought to be after months and months of her flinging them at him. Catching them was something new. A moment later, driven by instinct and the sort of repressed emotion that was best expressed in such dreams, Burnie whipped the blade not towards its sender, but instead towards the head of the already targeted Bromn.

In the height of such madness, so therapeutic an action was both harmless and helpful. After somewhere around two years of being Ariane Emory's student, the idea of putting a blade, especially one of Jirai's, through Altias was ever so appealing.

[Suede]

Treadwell was bearing down upon Suede with the malicious intent so unthinkable he wasn't able to imagine how Jirai's mind had created it. Suede was still watching the air around him, distracted from immediate concerns by the belief that anything could happen. It probably could, and worst of all he lacked any talent for dream manipulation. If it wasn't for the oddity of the whole scene, he'd start questioning if he really were asleep.

Jirai appeared, and was throwing things. That was normal enough. Glenn moving the way he did was not. He filed those pieces of information away for later as he started skipping away from dream Treadwell. Several backwards hops were intended to give him time to dodge, perhaps lead the councilor into a wall.

It was about the time Treadwell started getting smaller, and he realized he was looking at the top of the man's head, that Suede bothered to wonder about that wall. He glanced backwards to see rafters, and then up at Glenn throwing Jirai's daggers at Altias.

He was walking on the wall! This was fantastic! He was shedding a massive grin from ear to ear. Now all he had to do was... fall. Apparently he concentrated a bit too hard and left himself free-falling towards Treadwell.

Suede liked his own dreams better.

[Seth_Bloodmoon]

Yet again, the tall elf quirked a silvery brow as one of the dream-men looked up and took note of them. Well now, that couldn't be good could it? Maybe it wouldn't be so bad that they had finally been noticed by the odd group of men, right? Alright, so that last bit was wishful thinking on Seth's part. Of course it was a bad thing seeing as he suddenly had dress wearing dream-Bromn coming right for him. Lovely!

That was about the point where Seth was thankful he had been prepared for this journey into dreamland. Oh yes, he had slept with Twilight Heart in its sheath at his left side where he normally kept the sword when carrying it with him. No way in the Nine Hells was he getting stuck with only a dagger, or less! Not when he had known ahead of time that he'd be 'playing' amongst dreams.

Thus, as dream-Bromn came his way, the tall elf grasped Twilight Heart and dragged the sword free of its sheath, "No one gets the elf!" feeling the need to retort. As he took on a defensive stance, readying himself to meet his assailant he spotted Jirai appearing out of nowhere. Now that was odd, that she was throwing one of those knives at the dream-Bromn, huh? A warning would have been offered to Glenn, but then the mapmaker moved in a manner Seth had never expected to see him move in.

Now that was a hell of a thing, witnessing Glenn catch that knife and then throw it towards the dream-Bromn as well. Apparently neither of them cared for the Councilman! Oh well, no time to dwell on such things! As those knives flew for the dream-Bromn, Seth would attempt to sidestep the charging man. In the same instant he would he would thrust Twilight Heart out with the full intent of ramming it into the man's abdomen.

Hopefully Suede would be able to avoid the smothering rolls of dream-Treadwell, and of course Seth had not witnessed the man's walking right up the wall then falling moments later. Surely the stick wielding dream-Kerrak that seemed intent upon Glenn wasn't much of a threat. Then again this was a dream so who knew, right? The biggest threat had to be Jirai, but they weren't here to kill her in her dreams. They were here so Glenn could drive her sane. An interesting concept that!

[Jirai]

Glenn Burnie had evaded her blade - not that this surprised her entirely, even with the bizarre speed. After all, he ought to be so familiar with her attacks, after months of training. That still left Kerrak, who was attempting to use his stick as though it were actually a sword, battering at the mapmaker.

Bromn was not a fighter, not in real life, not in this dream. Jirai watched as the elf ran dream-Bromn through. As the gown-wearing man fell to the ground, daggers in his back and a sword through his gut he was still trying to pull himself up the elf's blade, drooling oddly. Treadwell - the one that wasn't already gnawing on Guillame - made a surprisingly quick turn for a man of his... stature... and seemed to have forgotten about Suede in favor of the bloody and rather severely damaged Altias. Until Suede fell right on top of him, that was.

As it happened, the tailor's fall from the ceiling actually gave Jirai her first unobstructed view of the man.

"You're not supposed to be here!" The dark elf growled.

The dreamscaped wavered, then twisted, and finally changed.

Gone was the meetinghouse, gone the councilmen. Gone were Jirai's scars and black leather. In their place, the world was made of stone, but not just any stone. The place was opulently carved and decorated in a typically twisted dark elf fashion. Glenn, and perhaps Suede, ought to recognize the new setting as a version of Faeryl's kingdom. Jirai was looking far more like she did in the real world, her face smooth, leathers red.

The dark elf seemed unaware of the change, either in her surroundings or in herself, lips twisted in a scowl as she tapped a new pair of daggers against her thighs.

[Glenn]

Glenn had been ready to react to the man who looked like al`Nerun, a man whose identity he could guess, when everything changed. There was a bit of a flinch at the new environment. It was not THAT long ago since Faeryl invited him to a ghastly tea-party. She never understood what he had truly been afraid of that day, however, and thankfully, she never would. Now it was almost moot.

No, perhaps it HAD been that long ago now. Burnie had been through so much worse since. If nothing else, the change of setting was a wake-up call of sorts. He had begun to allow himself to be drawn into what was happening around him. To be engrossed in a madwoman's dreams would lead to madness. Tempting him with the opportunity to skewer Bromn was just a temporary distraction. He was refocused now.

There were various options. He could attempt to bring order to her dreams and thus her mind. He could force upon her the same sort of touchstone he had so at least she would know when she was truly awake; The idea of marking her was rather tempting as well. Maybe he could give her some of those scars back. Then there was the ultimate option. Glenn Burnie had a magical object prepared for him, something dangerous, something obscene. He had slept with it and would unleash it upon the Drow, but only if absolutely necessary. He had come in with options and ideas, just not with a plan.

For now, he still had to see more. He had to get some sense of exactly what was happening in here. None of this was so bad so far. He was expecting horrors; he absolutely was. Instead, it was almost whimsical. It wasn't stark-raving madness. It wasn't lunacy. It was just a mind full of leaks allowing this madness to seep in. He wasn't Lamai though. He wasn't Rhaena. He couldn't plug those leaks. He'd have to find another way.

"Seth, stay close. Things cannot hurt us here unless we let them. We'll wake up fine, no matter what." His voice was low. It was rather pointless. Presumably Jirai could hear as well as Seth. "That is, our bodies can't be hurt." Just their minds. Just their sanity. Just everything that makes them who they are.

[Suede]

He had intended to land on a squishy man, and thus take a rather nasty tumble, possibly avoiding teeth. But he fell slowly, he shouldn't have hit the ground ages ago. Jirai's cursing tone for him rung in his ears, a ripple of sound to for the changing scenery around him. Things were uncertain and dimming, and he was caught wide open. He knew he was vulnerable here in this moment, and that it perhaps was not the best idea to walk right into Jirai's mind after avoiding her for months.

Oh well, better make the best of it. At least he can learn a few of her secrets for his own benefit.
...

Gravity was certainly taking its time, and he found himself deep within the Underdark before he ever touched the ground. The symbolism there didn't escape him, long fall, deep ending.

Suede came down on his hands and continued to roll into a cartwheel. The tumble left him very near Glenn. The poor tailor was having significant issues with spacial reasoning in this world, for better or worse, but he shrugged it off with his usual nonchalance.

Seth had a big sword, so the tailor didn't want to be particularly near him, and Glenn seemed a good choice for stopping daggers flung his way just now. One had slept with weapons, the other had prepared an ample supply of magic, if not a true plan. He seemed woefully unprepared by comparison, and he was distinctly aware of that little fact.

A side glance at the mapmaker for the decidedly lacking concern for his well being, a far more mocking and sleazy one for Jirai. "Since when have I ever not gone somewhere I wasn't suppose to be..." He paused, and decided to test this world, Jirai's sanity, just a touch further. "... Qu'essan."

[Seth_Bloodmoon]

Furrowing his brow, Seth prepared to raise a booted foot to try and shove the oddly drooling dream-Bromn off his blade before the man could pull himself too close. All he knew was that he had to free the blade before the not so chickeny Treadwell arrived on the scene to devour the bloodied and maimed Bromn. Really he didn't want Twilight Heart to end up devoured as well, not even in a dream!

Then before things could get more hectic, at least in the meetinghouse, everything went a bit wonky. Everything wavered, twisted then changed into a place Seth definately did not recognize for the life of him. Heck, he'd never even been in any form of Underdark in all of his travels. The sudden change in surroundings, and the sudden lack of a body inching its way up the blade of his sword almost sent the tall elf onto his rear. Fortunately, he managed to catch his balance before the moment became that awkward! And now he need not worry about being bowled over by a ravenous Treadwell, that had to be a good thing!

Managing to reorient himself to his new surroundings, Seth caught the sight of Suede's acrobatics, which were impressive. Though, having missed the whole spacial predicament the tailor had been having, he had no idea why the man was cartwheeling.

Then Glenn's words caught his attention and a nod was given as he moved to stand just slightly behind the mapmaker and to one side, "Understood," offered quietly in response. Twilight Heart remained unsheathed, just in case, gripped firmly in his right hand and poised in a defensive manner.

Brilliant blue orbs focused upon the drow for a moment, watching the woman carefully as she addressed Suede. Knowing what Glenn had prepared, Seth would follow the mapmaker's lead while keeping an eye out for anything useful to their cause. Which might be hard for him to spy, seeing as he knew so little about the drow woman.