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papsiguesss · 22 days ago

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Fear in the Night Fixit: Chapter 5

Took me a while, but the boys are back! And they are both dealing with their blossoming crushes in… very different ways.

Heads up, James’ half in this chapter goes into some sensitive topics such as child abuse and homophobia.

It was past curfew at the asylum, and Michael lay in his bed, his back comfortably resting against his mattress.

He was far from going to sleep, though.

How could he be, after what had happened in the afternoon?

Intently staring at his prosthetic finally being attached to his shoulder again, he could not tear his eyes away from it as he remembered Dr. Grey putting it on him.

He knew that he was not supposed to sleep with the prosthetic on, but it was one of the few things that gave him that feeling of familiarity that he so desperately needed. And so, he kept it on. He did not want to be separated from it anymore.

It was strange… Ever since he had lost his left arm, he had felt… uncomfortable about his artificial limb. Its clunky movements only served as a reminder of the arm that he used to have. The arm that had been burnt to a crisp.

Not only that, but he did not like his boys seeing him like that… like an invalid. Having his prosthetic visibly out only made him feel self-conscious about himself. About the vulnerable and damaged position his body had found itself in, and the fragility of his own mind.

Robert had always told him that he should not feel ashamed for being the way he had become, but Michael had never grown to fully believe those words.

As much as he would like to stay in denial of the fact, he knew that no matter how much he tried, things could not go back to how they were before the fire.

His conversations with Peggy had been his biggest reminder of that sombre fact.

Back when he was still home, he would often stare at his portrait hanging in the school’s dining hall, remembering the days when everything was still perfect. Back when the school would be filled with laughter, not noises from a recording that he’d play over and over for years on end. When his wife still loved him, and the future still looked bright.

…Back when he had been happy.

But then the fire had to happen.

Everything had changed after that, and none of it had been for the better.

He still had the school, of course. And his boys, thankfully. The boys would always be there. As long as he had his recording tapes, they would still be right there with him. Michael remembered each and every one of their faces. How they laughed while chatting during class, how they played with each other during recess. Those memories were a bright light in the darkness, keeping him happy and giving him a purpose in life. His recordings were all he needed whenever he would feel himself becoming distraught again. Just hearing the sounds again would instantly transport him back into those happier days, numbing the pain and bringing him joy once more.

…That did not mean that there were no struggles, however.

While Molly and Robert had given him a way to relive his happy memories again, there were plenty of times when he would be cruelly snapped out of them. He hates those moments, but they made him realise that nothing what he was doing was real. His shoulder stump would begin to hurt. He would accidentally see his prosthetic. They were little things, but anything that would remind him of the fire would upset him so much that it made it difficult to even function sometimes. And it was tiring. So very, very tiring. Sometimes Michael wondered why he was even still alive.

None of these things had gotten better when he was admitted to the asylum. Life here had been an absolute living hell.

…Well… There was one thing, he supposed.

And that thing was Dr. James Grey.

By helping him put his prosthetic back on, the doctor had only managed to reinforce that belief even further.

Because he had managed something very special.

He had managed to make the headmaster feel fond of his prosthetic again.

Just by feeling it against his body, he could remember the gentle touch of Dr. Grey’s hands around his shoulders, and his soothing voice calming him down. How much he had made him blush, and how amazing it felt to have that familiar sensation of his prosthetic being attached back. He could not help but feel butterflies in his stomach as he thought back to it, a faint smile spreading across his lips as he slowly closed his eyes.

He could not quite explain what it was, but Dr. Grey made him feel a sense of joy that he had not experienced in a lot of years.

All he knew was that he longed for the doctor to be by his side. For them to be sharing each other’s company, talking about things that they enjoyed instead of anything related to the asylum. He still hoped that Dr. Grey would come to his room sometime so they could talk about the texts that the other had given him, sharing their passions so that Michael could be distracted from the suffering he found himself in, if even for a little while.

He could not fully put it to words, but the doctor made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Even now, he still felt himself blushing. He still had his worries. It still scared him just how much he relied on Dr. Grey. The last two people he had relied on had tried to have him killed, after all. It made it difficult for him to form… any meaningful connection, really. One that did not make him feel paranoid, at least. But somewhere in his heart… there was hope. Hope for that genuine connection. For that friendship, and their shared company.

Hope… that maybe he could be happy again.

***

Rain was starting to trickle down against the windows as James entered his apartment. Trying to give himself any distraction from the things that he was feeling at the moment, he quickly stuffed a meal into the microwave, waited until it was finished and then let himself sink into the couch as he ate his dinner, staring into the distance listlessly.

He tried to ignore his feelings, but the longer he did so, the more impossible it became for him to swallow even a single bite of his food.

Eventually, he just put down his plate.

…It was no use.

As much as he would like to deny it, he knew that he had felt a romantic spark just now.

Blushing, he remembered when Michael had embraced him after helping him with his prosthetic, and even now he still felt the butterflies in his stomach. He remembered the headmaster’s joyful eyes staring into his as they sparkled with happiness, and how they had made James’ heart skip a beat. His joyful tears, finally releasing all those pent-up emotions after his hellish treatment by the doctor’s coworkers. How adorable he had looked, and how-

James took a deep breath, rubbing his temples. He had to steer his mind away from these thoughts. He could not be thinking them. Not now. Michael Carmichael was his patient. Someone who heavily relied on him… not a romantic interest.

…There was another reason why even the idea of him having feelings for the headmaster sent a chill down his spine, though.

More specifically, it was because he was a man.

Letting out a deep, melancholic sigh, James stared down at the ground, a sad frown on his face as a nauseating feeling rose up in his stomach. Even though he was fully alone, it almost felt as if his parents were right there, observing him.

Judging him.

His father in particular was an image that he could not get out of his head. That was… unsurprising, he supposed.

He had never been fond of his youngest son.

There had never been a moment in James Grey’s life during which he had not been aware of the scorning looks coming from those around him. It was little things at first, but they had always been there.

James had always been told that he was too sensitive for a boy. As a child, he had been shy, reserved. He preferred to play with his stuffed animals instead of interacting with others of his age, and was very shy of confrontation. It did not take too much time before his father would resent him for all of these traits.

None of it had gotten better when he had reached his teen years and told his mother about his first crush.

There was a boy in his class, and James could not help but blush whenever he’d see him. He was everything that the shyer boy wished he could be. Charismatic, athletic, confident. He had always read in his books about a man and a woman sharing a special connection called ‘love’, and it did not take him long that he was perhaps feeling those things for his classmate. After all, why couldn’t two boys feel things for each other?, he had foolishly thought, and so he decided to tell his mother about it.

It turned out that he had been wrong, though. Oh, so terribly wrong.

As soon as the words had left his mouth, his dear mother’s face became as pallid as a corpse. She quickly left the room, all that little James could hear behind the door being a muffled conversation with his father.

…He did not take the news of his son’s innocent affection very well.

Bursting into the room, he glared at his child as if he were vermin, his eyes crackling with fury. “I raised a son”, he had said. “A son, you hear me, not some pathetic sissy like you turned out to be!”

…James could not fully remember what had happened afterwards, but those words his father had screamed at him had become engrained into his mind.

His father had tried everything in his power to make his son a ‘man’ again. Forcing him through sports, taking his favourite toys away - they were deemed too ‘feminine’ - and, once James had finished his education as a doctor, he had conscripted him for the navy.

The young man himself had been horrified as soon as he heard that he was to be hauled off to sea, but his father only told him that he would be welcome in the household again when he had finally ‘grown out of his phase’. Plus, given the war that had broken out, this would be the least he could do to serve his country, he was told.

Well, his army service did not really have the effects that his father would have liked to see, but at least it had given James a direction to go in life, in a strange way.

It made him realise that he wanted to become a psychiatrist.

Naval combat during the Second World War had been harrowing, and even though James never fought directly (having a degree in medicine, he had been assigned to the position of medic), he had seen the effects that the war had brought his companions. Of course, their bodies were broken, but the thing that stood out most to the young doctor was how shattered their minds had become.

It was then that James realised what kind of doctor he wanted to be. Not one that fixed bodies, but one that fixed minds.

After the war, it was all that he worked towards. His family was still disapproving of him, believing that he had not learned the correct lessons during his service, but the young doctor had simply accepted that they never would be proud of him regardless. Finally being accepted as a psychiatrist had felt like an enormous victory to him, and he could not have felt prouder of himself.

…There was one aspect to his father’s ‘lessons’ that he could not quite separate himself from yet, though.

And that was his attitude towards James’ homosexuality.

Ever since that dreaded confession, he had felt sick to his stomach whenever he noticed himself blushing about another boy again. And has he got older, he only learned that his father was not the only one that held sentiments like that over his attraction towards other men. In fact, it seemed like the entire world was hostile to those feelings, and it did not take James long to realise that it would be dangerous for him to be open about his orientation. He had chosen to suppress those feelings, to hide them from everyone else, if only so that he could be safe. It was better to be without a partner for the rest of his life than dead.

He thought that he had done quite a good job of burying his nature, but of course there was no escaping it in the end.

Because the things he felt when Michael’s arms had been around him certainly were not platonic in nature.

Running a hand through his hair, James squeezed his eyes shut, a single tear rolling down his cheek. What in God’s name was he supposed to do?

He was beyond repressing his feelings at this point. As soon as he had acknowledged them, he knew that there was no going back.

He also knew that he could not act on them, though. Not only for his own sake, but mostly for Michael’s.

Michael was his patient. He was extremely dependent on his care, especially given his fear for the other asylum workers (which, in all honesty, the doctor could not blame him for). He was in an extremely vulnerable position, and James knew that he was one of the few people that had a chance of helping him escape it. He knew that the headmaster valued his company like no other, and the James felt the same way, but he also knew that his duties as a doctor came first.

His emotions would have to come second.

Taking a deep breath, the doctor opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling as he leaned back.

He would simply have to wait out and see how this would all unfurl, he thought to himself.

Maybe this was just a simple spark, nothing more. Maybe he would get rid of his attraction as time went on.

Regardless of what would happen, though... he knew one thing.

Michael was in need of his help. And so... that was what he endeavoured to give.

#i promise to post some wholesome art of the boys soon because dear lord i need it after writing james’ part #it definitely was tough to write at some parts #fear in the night fixit #fear in the night #michael/james #michael carmichael #james grey (oc)#hammer horror #hammer husbands #peter cushing #christopher lee #fanfic #my writing

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kit-williams · 1 year ago

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Pastel Bats

@bispecsual @egrets-not-regrets @moodymisty @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog

There were pastel bats upon the walls... this was your new home as you looked down at the infant drinking from the bottle. The room was bright with soft yellow walls and cute looking animals painted upon them. Your humming paused for only a moment and you swear you can hear a distant scream. You look to the large door. You were well fed... you were safe in the nursery... and that was alright. "Such a big boy you are Amir." You coo down to the grey eyed baby.

How a gummy smile is around the teat of the bottle as he slams his little feet against the padded floor of the playpen. No longer content on being contained by any sort of bed for a less active baby... no no the small boy had decided that standing was fun and had taken one to many tumbles on his head meaning he had to go see the doctor.

His eyes still wet from his most recent crying fit as he was a needy little thing with such big demands who liked bananas and didn't like green beans... he wanted to be held to fall asleep... and... you just find yourself holding the little boy with the odd growths on his skin... his mouth hurting because he's teething... and he still growing. You just sigh picking up the impatient to grow up little man to go see the doctor.

You watch Anrir Nor work as the two servo skulls fluttered about... one above Amir just out of reach of his grabby little hands trying to pull on the cabling and thrash it around when he does succeed making the cutes little gurgles. The other keeping notes as you watch the robotic limbs on his back move to grab things or seem to move in an almost behavioral tick.

"Any worrying things you'd like to bring up today." He says akin to how a pediatrician would ask you wonder if he says it on purpose or is simply saying it to make fun of you.

"He's scratching a bit and causing cuts but... other wise it's fine."

You watch him sit Amir up as he listens to his hearts. His eyes closing as he listens. "The scratching is from the subdermal growth of black carapace so its normal." He says with medical precision.

----

That was weeks ago... as you lay in the playpen that you laid with Amir as you and the others here followed protocol and the kids were asleep... they just fell asleep so quickly... it didn't work on you. You had to sing to Amir to get him to settle in his little pod to let whatever was in there to work on him.

There are pastel bats upon the walls... food's run out and the door is locked so tightly as there was a pressure leak outside of this safe haven in hell. You were all going to starve to death looking at the pastel animals upon the walls....

----

"His egg doner died today." Anrir says muttering softly as he continues to check over Amir and give him his shots.

"Oh that's not... good?" You say unuse to him talking to you.

"Yes... but you seem to like Amir so how about a proposition?" He says and you see the wickedness of his grin and all you could think to say was...

"What is the offer?"

----

You killed someone today... he was trying to break one of the pods. You had enough strength to do something about it. You wandered over to Amir's pod to sing to him... ignoring the way how someone... or some others were shamelessly ripping into the body... you sang to him to drown out the sounds... you sang to him as someone came by with cooked meat... and bought into the lie of them finding some... it gave you enough strength to draw... and all your numb mind could draw were those damned pastel bats...

----

"What if I just tell you what you'll get out of it?" Anrir says which that dangerous purr... you shifted as you had learned... or well it was a rumor that this man was also the head of the warband you found yourself in service to. You watch him brush some of that silky black hair behind his ear. "You may talk freely if you need to hear me say that."

"I mean I'd like to hear that too but what do you want from me?"

"Your body my dear."

----

You stopped leaving Amir's side as you hardly had any strength left to do so... you were being fed enough to stay alive... just barely. Someone came by to say that there were people outside and it might be a few more days before they could leave... that or they could just be telling you how you were next to be eaten... you didn't know any more.

----

He told you what he wanted with medical precision as you feel the marker tip tickling your skin and the metal appendages on his back caging you in. But you'd get better rations... you'd get better things... better treatment... it was all very tempting... all for the low low price of your body.

"Why... what do you get out of this?" You ask the black eyed man who looked surprised you even asked.

"Do you want the long answer or the the short answer?"

You broke eye contact with him for a moment as you thought before speaking, "Long?"

"The short version of the long answer is... I'm tired of watching the legion that I love fall apart via treachery and cowardness. Your corpse emperor isn't the answer but neither is the Four. And loyalty is a fickle thing..."

"So you're raising those who would be loyal to you?"

He grinned so wickedly, "Smart girl. Plus I can instill them the meaning of the legion! While fixing a few things that... lets say our environment was lacking at crucial stages of development."

"Giving them something you lacked?"

"Exactly."

"Didn't know childhood development was part of your education."

"Its not I ordained myself to learn it after I decided to say 'fuck it' to my last warband. So... what do you say?"

----

You should have said yes... you think as you stare at the sleeping little boy... the only thing you latched onto in this hell that you were dragged into screaming. Given a baby boy to keep alive and told your survival was tied to his development.

The boom of the bolter causes you to jump as you feel something splatter against your back as red paints the glass of the pods and you struggle to sit up. You see the midnight blue armor something different from the soft pastels around.

"Aww you left a list of his likes." The skull faced mask looks down at you with glowing red eyes. "But did you think of my offer dear?"

You try to say something which causes him to lean in before picking you up and hearing you whisper. "Yes"

#warhammer 40k #night lords #infants #Zhur is an evil genius #his breakthrough is very good for those who have aspirations for the old ways #apothecary #apothecary night lord #This was suppose to be normal horror #but it veered into yandere #I think its yandere #I wrote this at midnight and I need to be in bed for work tomorrow #Oc: Amir #oc: anrir nor #space marines

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lordsovorn · 2 months ago

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The Hag

Just one of the many strange people who have been surviving in the Under for so long, each of them becomes something of a mythical creature.

Patreon

Hag facts:

1) His name is Hag.

2) He has a collection of antique kitchenware that he really treasures. That's not what people notice first, unfortunately, but he's used to it.

3) Occupying much the same niche as Hand Warlords, he makes his presence explicit and waits for hungry prey to come to him. For that, he cooks pretty much constantly. Darkness only knows how's he avoided the Hand with such a sedentary approach.

4) Due to his lifestyle, he is rarely hungry, which is the main cause of a nasty character in the Under. While he DOES kill people, he is not particularly mean or pedantic about it. And if you do not behave like prey, he might be one of the friendliest around. He's not much for a conversation, but he smiles. Oh, and he's blind.

#secrets of the under #pixelart #art #украрт #lord diana art #oc art #horror art

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unusualgrimm · 1 year ago

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A bit of oc-insert into a Canon event didn't expect this to turn out as good as it did, I really really like how Kale (played by @_jaehughes in Killer Track; Nightmare Time 2, Ep 3) turned out. I still find it funny that I made Clinky before I watched Killer Track and I definitely see where people saw similarities between my character and The Killer Track so now I have this au :)

Also Jae played Kale well and they looked very cool

#starkid #lords in black #hatchetfield #nightmare time #starkid musicals #nightmare time 2 #eldritch god #eldritch horror #self insert #jae hughes #killer track #clinklopheth #clinky #oc #original character #Spotify

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svartabergetart · 3 months ago

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Nigth lord Terminators Death Claws horror power.

The grim elite of the Araknophobia legion.

Its a repaint and this design is better and more horror monsters.

We come for you!!!

Happy weekend to you all!!

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rinwellisathing · 7 months ago

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Papa Bhaal's House of Horrors: Part 1

“Fuck fuck fuck...Why did you piss him off, Aryn?” The young elven woman sobbed, sliding down to a sitting position, legs not able to carry her any further as she hugged her knees to her chest. “You should've left him alone, why'd you piss him off?” “Hey it's not my fault, Brynna! How was I supposed to know he was crazy?” The human shot back, pressing his back to the door of the shed as it strained against the vicious knocks against it from the outside. “Guys...please stop fighting, the Fist will be here soon, I'm sure...it's gonna be okay we just have to stay calm and....” The dwarf was cut off as she and the human were thrown across the shed as the door splintered, sending them sprawling. Four pairs of glowing eyes lit up the darkness and the blade of an axe gleamed in the pale moonlight. Screams pierced the night. ----

“Good afternoon, Moonrise County. It's Alfira coming to you from Last Light FM, your local source for weather, traffic, news, and some good mood tunes. It's getting chilly as harvest season begins, so druids get those crops harvested quickly now. We are also likely to see rain for the holiday weekend, tough break for those last minute tourists looking for a woodland get away. Traffic heading towards Baldur's Gate is at a stand still thanks to a stopped vehicle across the roadway. Now here's our chart topping local favorite three years running, The Sirens' cover of local folk song 'Down By The River'” Alfira removed her headset and nodded her head gratefully as her partner handed her a cup of coffee and the morning paper. “Thanks Lakrissa...” She took a sip and then eyed the headline. “More tourists disappeared, huh?” “Yeah, fifth group this year....I think the cult is getting restless.” Lakrissa grinned, her tone sing-song and teasing. “There's no cult, Lakrissa. Honestly it's probably just overconfident city people getting lost in the woods without enough supplies. It's sad, but not some crazy murder conspiracy.” Alfira frowned, shaking her head. “And I'm not going to entertain the idea it is and get everyone in a tizzy.” “But it's fall, Alfira. Spooky season! Don't you wanna do a little themed broadcast and get those numbers up?” Lakrissa's grin widened, eager and excited. “Gods know the station could use it.” Alfira stifled a laugh and looked deadpan at her lover. “Lakrissa, it's Moonrise County, population like...MAYBE two hundred at best...Those numbers aren't going anywhere.”

--- “Move it a little to the left, Orin.” Sentry frowned, making a frame with his hands and scanning the hanging corpse dangling from a meat hook in the shed. His little sister repositioned the head just a little closer to the shoulder, slightly off from where it would naturally have been, and looked quizzically at her brother. “Yeah! Perfect! Just like that!” He reached into the pocket of his denim cut offs and produced a heavy needle and some waxed thread. “Now just hold it steady.” “There's room for a second head at this angle, slaughter-kin.” Orin pointed out with a grin as blood dripped down the front of her hand sewn red dress. “Shit, you're right. What are we thinkin', pig? Sheep?” Sentry pondered as he moved the needle expertly through the skin, sewing the head into place. Orin pranced over to a cold chest in the corner of the shed and lifted the lid with a pale, thin arm, one long braid swinging over her shoulder as she peered inside and began to poke around. She ran her hands over the various heads the freezer contained, finally gripping a pair of horns and lifting it with a grin. “Mmm...This one!” She smirked, holding up the head of a dark grey goat, its strange yellow eyes gazing sightlessly forward.

“Great choice, little sister.” Sentry grinned, beckoning her back over as he finished his final stitch. “Now, just place it in position, and....” He paused a moment, ears pricking up at the sound of a car horn outside.

Orin grimaced and rolled her eyes, making a gagging noise as she watched her brother scamper to the door of the shed and throw it open, rushing out the door, waving eagerly as the deep emerald green convertible parked on the long dusty drive of the 'manor'. Polished black shoes, far too nice for this bumblefuck of a place, stepped from the car, followed by designer black slacks with gold embroidery and then a matching jacket over a deep green button down, the top five or so buttons undone revealing gold chains resting against a next of dark chest hair, a glimmering obsidian pendant in the shape of a clawed hand hanging from one. The man had deep tan skin, a few scars at his chin and cheeks, a nose that had never quite healed right after being broken more than a few times, and unkempt stubble. He wore a pair of stylish dark glasses and his messy black hair was just barely brushed. Still, Sentry fawned over this guy like he was a rock star. “Envyyyyy” Sentry grinned as he made his way over to the newcomer, swaying his hips as he did, unable to keep his tail from wagging like an excited puppy. “ Is this a social call or d'you have a job for us?” The tiefling asked, standing practically up against the human, one long nailed finger tracing that magnificent chest hair absently. “I'm afraid I'm here on business, dear Sentry, but then again, a bit of pleasure wouldn't go amiss, I suppose....if you aren't busy.” Enver's eyes cast towards the shed even as his hands rested on Sentry's hips. Those tacky, tattered denim shorts certainly made the younger tiefling a tempting little distraction. “Well he IS busy, oil-slick interloper.” Orin frowned, folding her arms across her thin chest, eyes narrowed. “We were just in the middle of a project!”

“Interloper, hmm? That's a big word for such a little girl.” Enver chuckled. “And also inaccurate, you know I have an understanding with your family, I provide my services in the procurement of victims, I make sure they don't leave the county, and in return, I acquire information, valuables, et cetera that you have no use for. I am a perfectly welcome guest, why, one could call me part of the family almost.” He ran a hand down Sentry's bare thigh, earning a gentle purr from the tiefling. “What ever you say, lickspittle. But my brother and I were in the middle of creating art! You can't simply pull him away.” The little girl huffed, her expression murderous. “Aww, Orin, don't worry, I'll come back in a bit...Can't be a poor host, though, can I?” Sentry chuckled, grabbing Enver by the hand and leading towards the house, hips swaying as he did. ---- “It's getting chilly as harvest season begins, so druids get those crops harvested quickly now. We are also likely to see rain for the holiday weekend, tough break for those last minute tourists looking for a woodland get away. Traffic heading towards Baldur's Gate is at a stand still thanks to a stopped vehicle across the roadway. Now here's our chart topping local favorite three years running, The Sirens' cover of local folk song 'Down By The River'” The radio crackled through the speakers of the used but well cared for car that made its way down the winding backroads of Moonrise County's deep woods. “Aww...well, there goes the idea of stopping for a picnic or something.” Jaina frowned as she leaned back in the seat, pulling her hoodie closer around her shoulders. “Though in fairness, that's on me for not putting the better jacket up front.”

“You know you can always borrow mine.” Wyll smiled gently, squeezing her hand, keeping his other hand firmly on the wheel. “And anyway, it's not TOO far outside of the city, so once we're settled in we can come back if you see the perfect picnic spot.” He beamed, eyes focused on the road ahead. Neither of them saw what tore through their tires. There was nothing visible there in the road ahead of them, but within a moment, there was the tell tale POP! Sound and their car swerved and bumped, Wyll trying to regain control as they swerved into a ditch by the side of the road. The car rolled and flipped, Jaina clinging tightly to the handle above the window while Wyll gripped the wheel tightly, their faces set in looks of shock as the sound of shattering glass and crunching metal filled the air. Finally, the dust settled and the car rested precariously on its side. “Hells! Are you alright?” He quickly looked to Jaina with concern. She winced as she sat up in her seat. “Yeah, my skin's tough, remember? Not a scratch...I'm just a little shaken up. What about you?” She reached to run her fingers across his face, searching for any scrapes or cuts where the window glass might have hit him. Thankfully nothing. “Same.” Wyll confirmed, reaching for his seat belt. “But we're not likely to get any further like this...Maybe we ought to get out and try and flag down some help.” Jaina quirked a brow as she undid her own seatbelt. “On this dead stretch? We'd probably be better off trying to find a town or a phone or something.” Wyll clamored out of the car, managing to force his door open and climb out, holding out his hand to help Jaina to follow him. Wyll sighed dejectedly and shook his head. “You're right...I don't think I've seen one other car the entire time we've been driving.”

Both of them peered down the long, foggy stretch of highway that had come from Waukeen's Rest. The highway stretched on into the mist before fading into a thick copse of trees as far as the eye could see. They both turned to look ahead, Jaina's sharp eyes fell on a hill peeking up through the thick woods. Was that a roof? She picked out the outline of a fence around a small balcony peeking out from what appeared to be an attic floor of a large house. A widow's walk? Out here in the woods? “Hey, there's a house that way. I mean...it's probably a long walk, but if we start now, we might be able to get there by dark.” She suggested, gently placing a hand on Wyll's shoulder and pointing towards the hill. “Right, let's check out the creepy house on the hill all alone in the middle of the woods. Surely nothing bad could happen to us in this perfectly innocuous scenario.” Wyll gave a small chuckle. But he knew she was right, it was the only sign of civilization they had any chance of reaching before night fell and the temperature dropped and waiting here was practically a death sentence. Jaina fished a flashlight and two water bottles from the back seat and handed one bottle to Wyll. He nodded gratefully to her and the two headed off. ----

“I see you've got hospitality handled, little brother.” The imposing white scaled dragonborn smirked, arms folded across his chest as he watched Sentry lead Enver into the house. Sentry turned and smiled up at him playfully. “I mean, you can certainly join in, big brother.” He winked, pausing a moment. “I'm sure he'd like it.” “Ah! Good to see you again, Gary.” Enver gave the dragonborn a charming, roguish smile. “You know, I find I'm seeing you less and less at my office lately. It's terribly depressing.” Gary grinned, his long, sharp teeth glinting in the light. “I've been busy...and honestly, so has Sentry.” He gave his brother a pointed look. Sentry rolled his eyes and folded his arms across his chest. “You really need to relax more, brother. One of those folks out in the shed had a cassette tape with them about burn out and stress, it can kill you, y'know.” Gary exhaled deeply and rubbed his temples. “And why are you bothering with their junk? The protocol is very simple, little brother, you loot the bodies, set aside things that are useful to Enver or Ketheric, the rest goes to your geeky little friend at the pawn shop who doesn't ask questions.” “I was just curious if it was like music or something...I can't just get by with whatever's playing on the radio, it's got no bite!” Sentry pouted. “Besides, Sorcerous Salvage is full up on cassette tapes, Rolan will bitch about it if I bring him anymore.”

Gary sighed and shook his head. “You and Orin will be the death of me, brother...” “Well yes, I thought that was pretty much father's plan...or you'll be the death of us.” Sentry replied, once again grabbing Enver's arm. “Now, are you coming or not?” The Dragonborn's red eyes moved from his little brother to the charmingly sleazy human and then back towards the door. He shrugged. “I suppose there's time, Sarevok is still below the house praying, Jackal is still out on the road hunting, I haven't seen the others, so there's time.” He joined his brother, his arm slipping around Enver's waist, sharp nails digging into his hip. “But we'll use my room, yours is a disaster even by Bhaalist standards.” Sentry rolled his eyes but nodded. “Fine! Your bed is bigger anyway.” ---- Wyll and Jaina had been walking for nearly an hour by now. The going was slow and the trail was not particularly well kept. A grim sense of foreboding filled the air as the two of them gripped one another's hands for comfort. The sun was threatening to set any moment and neither one was entirely sure this path would lead to the house they had seen in the distance.

A twig snapped and Jaina's eyes darted towards the sound, her heart hammering in her chest. Nothing. Just a lonely path dappled with autumn leaves. Wyll squeezed her hand gently. “We just need to keep moving, we'll get there, we'll find help.” She nodded. “I just hope sooner rather than later, these woods are giving me the creeps.” She shuddered. The rustle of leaves underfoot and a few more sickening cracks seemed to sound all around them. Subconsciously, the two began to move a little faster, sweat beginning to bead on Wyll's brow as Jaina felt her blood run cold. The two were practically running down the trail when a voice barked. “Hey! Watch where you're going!” And they just barely missed running into a stocky male drow in hunting gear. His face was scarred and pock marked, whether from illness or habit they weren't certain. Bright lilac eyes scowled in their direction and his dark grey hair was sweat soaked beneath his battered brown and green cap. An antique bow was strapped across his back alongside a quiver full of arrows. His jacket was the same shabby brown and green as his cap and his pants matched. Heavy boots crushed the leaves and sticks beneath his feet, well, at least they knew who'd made the noise. “What in the hells are you two doing out on this trail at this hour? People hunt here and you idiots are fixing to get shot.” He growled, eyeing them up and down, sizing them up. Wyll noticed that he was more wary of Jaina than he was of him, but he supposed it was in the nature of a drow.

“Our car flipped on the side of the road, sir. We're just looking for some help.” Wyll explained cautiously, holding his hands up in a gesture of peace. “We don't want any trouble.” Jaina followed Wyll's lead, nodding her head along with what he was saying. “We saw a house in the distance, we thought maybe someone there had a truck...or we could find a phone?”

The drow gave a little chuckle and smirked. “Shit, alright....that's my house up there, mine and my family's. We ain't got a phone, but I got a truck, I'll give you two a lift to town in the morning.” He offered with a nod of his head. It was still getting darker out by the minute, the sunlight barely permeating the foliage overhead anymore and Jaina shivered, leaning in closer to Wyll, who looked to the man in confusion. “Damn you city folk are thick, aren't you? The invitation to stay the night's included.” The hunter adjusted his quiver and turned back the way he'd came, giving a sharp nod for them to follow. “Now come on, I'll lead you there.” He grinned wickedly, turned away from them so neither caught sight. “You don't wanna be out here when night falls.”

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