"This is NOT what I was hoping for..."

Danyr Shariph spoke to his two companions, as they stood on a cliff face, overlooking the oceans of Oblivion. Their tasks in the City of Shadows were completed, and they even knew where they were going now. The counterpart to Daniel's hometown, in the companion area to Ulster. There was only one small problem. Or rather, a large one. The ocean. The water itself tossed and turned like the normal, but with a bit more violence, though the water itself seemed thicker. The water itself was pitch black and opaque, and it certainly seemed as though anyone who ever broke its surface would never return...

"Did anyone bring a boat?"

As Danyr spoke, as if on command, a large whale-like creature broke the surface of the water, near the horizon. It was pitch black, its form murky and undefined, and its intentions just as unknown. It was hard to tell if it was aggressive or not, but it was certainly dangerous, judging by its size...

Daniel stood at Danyr's left, and Presmodia at his right. This new development was most unfortunate. They had the information they needed, direction and the like--but it seemed they weren't going to be getting past this trial anytime in the near future . . .

Over time, they had collected some new clothes. Presmodia donned a nice black jacket over a gray turtle neck shirt--which fit his petite form perfectly, for that matter, as well as a pair of slacks that did the same with his legs. Daniel, on the other hand, had managed to secure a much better coat. It was the same type and make, black, form fitting, and long, with a hood he could throw over his head at any given moment, which would incidentally protect him from the notice of shades . . . this one, though, wasn't two sizes too large on him.

Unfortunately, they didn't procure a boat in their time in the City of Shadows.

". . . huh," Presmodia whispered, a little surprised at how inconvenient this was. Stopped right out of the gate? It should've seemed typical by now. "Well . . . this is certainly inconvenient . . ."

With a furrowed brow, Daniel stared out at the whale looking . . . thing. "Oi Presmodia--do you know anyone who's got a boat?"

"Danny-boy, I live in a landlocked city. Why would I or anyone I know have a boat?"

". . . oh. Uh. Roight."

Danyr wore a new set of clothes as well, but one that was close to the clothing he typically wore. Dark gray pants and a shirt, with a similarly colored backpack, with his bow attached. At one point, the fairly complex weapon had been all but destroyed, which had required a new outfitting, but Danyr had been able to piece together the parts of the construction that were originally his brother's making, and even get a bit more power out of the device.

"Well, we need to go generally north. So let's follow the shore until we find something?"

Danyr hoped that the people of Oblivion were seafaring, though from the looks of things, it appeared to be a dangerous occupation at best. There may simply be none, which would be extremely frustrating. It had been difficult enough to get to Oblivion, much less from an unknown point in Ulster, under hostile control...

With in mind, Danyr would slowly start to move along the beach, which was of course rocky and inhospitable. Nothing in Oblivion was nice, it seemed, just a crude imitation of things that could be nice. With some exceptions, like Presmodia, who had grown somewhat on Danyr...

The water was choppy and the ocean "breeze" was a fairly violent one. This paired with the almost constant state of night that lingered above and around them turned a goal like, say, crossing the ocean into an exercise in suicide. It was as if the whole area was in a constant state of pre-storm; never reaching the full force of a storm, but always there--always right there, inches away from it.

Any sort of boat that could travel these waters would have to be a big one--which would mean a large boat manned by two people. Letting Daniel tinker with the inner mechanics of a seafaring ship would've been yet another exercise in suicide.

Presmodia shrugged his shoulders and began to walk alongside Danyr, leaving Daniel confused at first. He kept peering around the water as if there was some kind of answer there. Maybe one in the form of a jolly whale, that might hold them in its mouth and carry them across the sea.

Danyr and Presmodia were practically an eighth of a mile away before Daniel realized they were gone--prompting him to run like hell to get back to them.

"Soooo . . ." Daniel chimed in as soon as he was with the two of them again, "Do you think someone has a boat docked around here?"

"I don't know, maybe?" Presmodia shrugged.

"How far off do you think it moight be?"

Presmodia about deadpanned. "Uuugh. This isn't going to be a fun walk at all, is it?"

Fortunately, the group was in luck. The closest town was only 20 miles distant. Only 8 hours at a decent pace. Not that the rocky beaches and uneven terrain made life any easier. By the time they had arrived, conversation had certainly long since ceased. All there was was silence, as there was just no energy or point after so long...

The three companions would find themselves on a cliff, overlooking the town. The town was small, comprised of perhaps 30 houses, all small and built atop 10 foot poles. The docks were the largest features of the town, but at the moment, they were unfortunately empty. Walkways passed between the houses in many places, and provided an easy way to get from the cliff to the largest building, bearing a sign reading "Open."

"At least there's something..."

Danyr would start walking towards the building, despite the lack of people outside at the moment. The weather was fairly cold, and the wind coming in from the ocean carried an unpleasant acrid feeling. Still, at least there was some sign of civilization, particularly an inviting one...

As Presmodia stared over the cliff at this small town, he should have considered the possibility that this was possibly a trap, here to lure people like them in, searching for food, water, and a nice bed to sleep in. Or even a crappy spring filled bed, forty years old, one that was a deathtrap to sit upon for more than thirty minutes, let alone sleep for eight hours. But that didn't matter to him. The thought briefly crossed his mind, but if someone had set this up as a trap, then they had caught him fair and square. He wanted water, he wanted something to eat, and he was tired as hell.

The possibility that this was a trap should have occurred to Daniel, too, considering how vast his unlucky streak was in general. But as expected, his face instead brightened up, as he suddenly caught his fifth or sixth wind. In fact, he considered jumping the cliff to try and get there faster.

"All roight! Think there moight be some beds? Maybe an 'ole tavern, maybe? A pub? Ohhh, maybe even somethin' to eat . . ." Daniel thought aloud as he followed behind Danyr.

"Doubtful," Presmodia shrugged as he, too, followed behind Danyr, "Look at the place. It's practically a ghost town."

With that, the three would head towards the town, hoping to find a boat...

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Ghost town... Daniel would likely remember those words well, as they lingered for what seemed like months before he awoke. Awoken from blackness, staring into... Blackness. And coughing up blackness, for that matter. Daniel would find himself lying face down in the black oceans of Oblivion, on a grey and rocky coastline. After perhaps a few moments, he would gain a better realization of what had happened...

They had been on a boat, piloted by an imposing mute Oblivion resident they had met in the last town... At the time there had been four of them, but as they had neared Ulster, the trip had taken a turn for the worse... A horrible storm befitting the worst of Oblivion, and a creature attacking the ship had made the trip somewhat more exciting...

Both Daniel and Danyr had been washed overboard, quickly to lose consciousness in the roiling ocean... And yet, here Daniel was, on the coast of Ulster once more... And from the looks of a recognizable landmark, only a few miles from his Oblivion-hometown, as well...

It started with a cough. Black water rushed from his lungs and spilled upon his shirt and the gray soil beneath his soaked frame. He rolled over onto his side and coughed again, expelling more of the dark water from his lungs. Slowly but surely, Daniel opened his eyes. He felt a ragged pain throughout his whole body, and now that he was out of the water, he felt a horrible chill that could only fit the bill of an Ulsterian wind.

But that wasn't the first thing the boy looked for. He struggled to pull himself forward, to drag himself up, and survey the beach in complete exhaustion.

Where was Danyr? Presmodia? That mute?

Was there ever really a mute?

Daniel couldn't vividly recall any such thing. It was just a suggestion in his mind. A revelation that it'd all been a figment of his imagination wouldn't feel that farfetched. He knew for a fact that Danyr and Presmodia were real, though, and were on this journey with him. Somewhere along the lines, it became both his and Danyr's journey, and slowly it was becoming Presmodia's, too. That Ersatzshad wasn't a bad person, truth be told. He'd actually grown on them enough that he was invited to come with. Daniel wanted to know first and foremost if his two friends were all right.

But he couldn't see them anywhere on the beach. He could barely remember how he got onto this beach in the first place--the mute, the boat, it was all a blur. But then . . . he looked forward . . .

Had he the strength for it, he would have darted up, shouted, and rushed for the distance. But he hadn't that strength, not yet; in the end, all he could do was crawl forward once again, at least until he had the strength to pull himself up onto his own two feet. But that didn't quell his excitement.

He made it.

He was home.

As confused as Daniel's memory might be, a coughing noise from much farther down the beach might well bring him to his senses about his companions. Danyr, having similarly washed up, pushed himself to a crawling position to regain air, not really aware of Daniel, who had awoken first...

Daniel, however, might be more occupied with who was nearer to him. Standing near him on the beach were two tall figures, clothed in what appeared to be scraps of cloth. A man and a woman, both staring at him, hands held and mouths closed. And yet... Something wasn't right. Even Daniel, as naive as he could sometimes by, would be able to notice the spots of their bodies that, simply... Weren't really there; altered and mixed with shadow. Fingers, sections of torso, even the woman's eye and half of her face... All composed of the strange shadowy substance that seemed to comprise many of the "Shades" that inhabited Oblivion...

The young couple's behavior, as well, seemed off... On seeing Daniel, their almost romantic behavior was quickly replaced by curiosity, and from there, they seemed somehow enraged... Both of them would hunch down in an animalistic fashion, running angrily at Daniel, and really only a matter of seconds away...

At first, when Daniel looked up to see the frames of these people, he was ready to call out to them in a friendly, inviting way. People--it was a good thing to see people. But then he began to see the spots on their bodies, the veritable holes in their frames, replaced harshly by specks of darkness . . .

Initially, there was static. At least, that's how it felt. It felt like his brain was a machine, a screened device like one of those Eyes in the last city he'd been to, and this machine didn't want to work half of the time. Sometimes, though, when it did want to work, it worked in overdrive, and through a veil of static, recalled something that happened long ago, months ago, perhaps a year ago.

He recalled it: that day, when he and Zera were in the city. It was raining then; he could barely see a thing. They were trying to evade these people as they paraded down the main road. They were hiding in a back alley--he remembered that much. They were hiding, and one found them . . .

Oh. Shit.

Daniel was most certainly in the right place. Unfortunately, this was an utterly terrible way to come to terms with that fact.

Already weak from nearly drowning, Daniel had little choice but to throw all of his weight to the left, to narrowly evade the coming bodies in a self induced roll--his shoulder hitting the ground first and his body crumpling efficiently to reduce the inevitable pain. Daniel rolled until he was on his feet again--or one foot, rather; he found himself perched upon one knee, patting at the pockets of his black coat, trying to find his weapon or at least one of those couple of coins he always carried on him.

They must've been washed out when he hit the water . . .

Oh, come on! Daniel groaned, audible only though a frustrated grumble. This just had to happen right now, didn't it? Right after he regained consciousness?

Out of the frying pan and into the fire: the story of Daniel Kerington's life.

Luckily, neither of the two people seemed to have a weapon, or perhaps even the ability to use a weapon. They simply ran at Daniel, their fingers ending either in small claws or jagged fingernails. There were likely a few questions that Daniel could be thinking. How could they tell Daniel was a foe? What were they doing before he had arrived? And why were they attacking...?

Danyr, as usual, was no longer anywhere to be seen. He had a skill for disappearing, even from Daniel, it seemed. However, Danyr had been fairly far away, if he even recognized what was going on with Daniel...

The two shade-people were clumsy at best, even as they raked long troughs through the gray sand that had previously been occupied by Daniel. Fortunately, Daniel would quickly be granted a moment's reprieve: the man who had been on the closer side to Daniel's new position, didn't move as quickly as the woman, and she dashed into the back of him, knocking them both over for a moment...

Daniel had options, but he had to think fast. He could clamber to his feet and try to get as far away from these two as possible, he could try and get the jump on them whilst they were briefly incapacitated, or he could try and prepare himself for when they might get back up.

Unfortunately, those weren't much for options.

Incidentally, Daniel wasn't too concerned about the logistics of these two. In remembrance of his first encounter with one of them, he recalled that they were just like monsters, and monsters attacked people. It was an easy distinction to make, leaving no mystery behind the rationale of these people turned shades. As far as Daniel knew, there was barely anything left of the human being that once was still within these people. He was aware, now, that he'd cut down several during his first stint in this dark city. Zera endorsed it for survival's sake, after all . . .

But that didn't mean he had no compassion for them. Truth be told, he wanted to help them, but he didn't think he could, and he was fully aware of the danger they presented him. Still--they were human, once. Maybe there was still something human left inside them. He didn't know.

He didn't have any killing weapon on his person right now, anyways, just his bare hands. He could always get behind them while they were fumbling on the ground and snap their necks. It'd be a quick and painless end, but . . . personal. Too personal. Monsters or not, Daniel didn't like having to take any lives, especially when the blood could literally spill upon his hands. There was too much left of them that was definitely human for Daniel to justify this without the necessity of immediate survival.

So, Daniel did what any sane, sympathetic human being would do: he ran. He stumbled at first, but once he was on his feet, his muscles started to work again, and by the time he realized it, he was already in a sprint towards the city.

If we all washed up here, Daniel thought to himself, Then this is where we're all going. Find everyone else first--then save Zera.

After a mere minute of running, Daniel would be able to enter a field strewn with boulders, where it would quickly become apparent that he was not being followed. The two shade-people were... Not interested, almost. Or perhaps they had very little ability to perceive people. Or, perhaps, they simply didn't remember what they were doing...

A bit of listening would reveal more of a problem, though. Footsteps... Many, many footsteps. The last time Daniel had been here, huge packs of shades had traveled through fields such as this one, but now... The steps were distinctly human in nature. Or, perhaps not as human as may have been suggested...

And even worse, a set of extremely light footsteps, mere feet away...

By the time he reached the boulder field, Daniel was effectively exhausted. He'd just recently almost drowned, and now he was running for the first time in a good while. It took a lot out of him.

And it just kept getting worse.

Daniel had slowed down when he reached the boulders, only to hear the sound of footsteps coming his way. Panic struck him again. He really wasn't going to cut a break here, was he? Unarmed and still quite fatigued, he definitely wasn't in the best situation to fend off a whole horde of shade-people. His only option was to hide--and hide he did. The very second he heard the footsteps, he checked the direction of it and raced for the boulders, to plant his back up against a taller, wider one, and get the hell out of plain sight.

There, he took a deep breath and released an equally deep sigh--but in parts. He didn't want to be heard back here, after all. Maybe it was possible to fend off a horde, maybe not--but without a weapon, he didn't even want to think about that becoming his only option.

Unfortunately, he failed to notice the sound of footsteps closer. Those were singular steps. Panicked by the escape from the first two shade people and now the notion that there might be a whole horde out here, Daniel wasn't quite thinking straight.

Daniel would hide, and yet... The footsteps would come closer and closer. In fact, if it was possible, the noises sounded like... Patrolling? And as Daniel watched, sure enough, a teenaged boy, not that different from Daniel's own age, would walk by...

The boy's hands were entirely replaced by black claws, and yet, he seemed almost... Timid. In fact, Daniel may well recognize him: the boy had been a classmate of Daniel's! Now, however, he seemed to be patrolling, though there was a sense that he wasn't truly paying attention. He seemed to be trying to whistle or hum, it seemed. However, the black shadowy substance that now comprised his throat was stopping any noise from emanating...

However, as the boy walked past, an extremely unlikely thing would occur: the boy, perhaps looking for time alone, would sit against the boulder opposite Daniel, facing him... With a direct view of Daniel. The boy was momentarily occupied, but he would see Daniel in moments...