Vanho Mortaurus- The Boundary of Existence (Full Version)

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lordkaho -> Vanho Mortaurus- The Boundary of Existence (10/4/2012 11:20:14)

Vanho Mortaurus
The Boundary of Existence




Prologue



The enormous icy peaks of Xuěqiáng, a terribly hostile mountain range permanently blanketed by harsh and bitter cold. The range runs through a total of seven countries, stretching at an arc of almost seven thousand, three hundred, forty six kilometers long, geographically it looked like a letter ‘C’ tilting over at about twenty degrees facing south west on the map.

Because of its central location at the very heart of between two joined continents, serving as a boundary between the West and the East, the Xuěqiáng had proven to be a very important strategic point. It was home to the highest mountain in the world, Bhagavāna, literally meaning “Approaching God” in Apeshān tongue. Very few expedition teams have dare scaled its heights, let alone try to venture up into its summit.

Even the mighty Empire of Britannia, the superpower of the West, failed in their countless attempts to conquer the terrain and uncover any secrets that may lie within. Their sophisticated machines made of copper, brass, iron and steel- products of the wonders of human ingenuity, have fell short before the unforgiving elements. Their steam reliant technology was simply too taxing on their resources.

But it is with the Carhanā Monks, a sect hailing from the South-Eastern nation of Na’al, that a settlement was finally placed. These hardy and resilient people, adepts at facing winter’s deadly breath, have constructed a massive monastery-city deep into the bowels of the mountain heights.

But after generations of being the sole masters of Xuěqiáng, the monks were about to receive an unlikely visitor.

*****

What brings you so far and high up here, outsider?” Gently asked a monk clad in a yak skin fur coat, as he spotted a man wearing western clothing coming his way towards the Monastery gates.

At first, he figured the man to be someone on a pilgrimage, but the latter’s appearance greatly startled him. His complexion was deathly pale, and he wore no clothing that provided warmth. He feared that this man was probably on the verge of dying from cold, but after another look at him, something else put him at unease. He had long white hair, almost as white as his skin, with some thick strands casting a shadowy mask over the the top of his face, with his mouth only showing. He wore only a long black coat that reached up to his ankles, and he noticed a silver cross hung upon his neck. A religious man, he thought.

To seek answers. Answers that can only be found at the heart of the world.” Spoke in the stranger in a solid, deep voice.

While still being suspicious, he could not help but ponder in awe of the great lengths the man had to make to reach the Monastery. The monk himself was taken in by the Carhanā Sect and entered the Monastery twenty years ago. Since then, he has never seen any visitor come up its steps besides new disciples. However, his mind still held caution over the true intents of this man. Conflicted between risking the safety of the Monastery and denying a weary traveller some food and shelter, he glanced at the man again.

Suddenly a voice echoed into his thoughts.

May I enter?” Spoke a disembodied voice. A voice clearly not his.

Then an answer unexpectedly came out of his lips.

Yes.Yes, please follow me outsider.

The man spoke no more, and slowly followed the monk unwillingly leading him up the stone steps of the Monastery entrance and finally, into the gates.

The monk heaved into the massive wooden red gate, adorned by two carvings of monstrous clawed serpents forming an arc and they coiled down to its sides. A central head piece was hung at the top of the gate in the visage of fierce tiger. Round iron studs as big as a man’s head were embedded into its pine scented surface. Upon entering, the man was welcomed by an astonishing sight- a vast city of temples and shrines, with no less than a hundred monks in place.

It was indeed a great sight to behold, that such a group of people were able to coexist with the weather and the inhospitable environment.

But then his gaze fell upon the image of a grand temple located just at the very center of the city. It was a Pagoda about three stories high.

He was then reminded of his purpose of why he came here in the first place.

*****

At the midst of a great chamber, lit by rows of scented candles, sat a bald, old man wearing a half open monk’s robe where the right side of his chest was left bare. His body, thin and wiry but boasted compact and tight muscles, was marked with battle scars. He had a long white bushy beard that fell down to his chest. He was clutching a string of wooden beads, absorbed in deep and fervent prayer. facing a giant four meter tall silver statue of Carhanā Prāṇa, the progenitor and founder of Carhanā belief and philosophy.

Prāṇa, preserve us.” He wept.

The moment of silence was then broken by a sudden gust of chilling air from outside. Immediately, as if in anticipation, the old man opened his eyes and said,

[image]http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f239/bloodraze/Vanho%20Mortaurus/Prologue2.jpg[/image]


...So the visions from Prāṇa were true. You have come.”


Came out the figure of the outsider from earlier, walking towards the old man in a confident gait.

Grandmaster Tashokan..” Spoke the man in his deep, astringent voice as he walked down the cobble stone aisle.

Breathing heavily, and trying to calm himself, Tashokan replied with a mournful and wavering tone.

It is...too late then.

The elderly monk tightly clenched his beads.

The man lay a quick glance at the opened doors of the temple, where outside at the courtyard lay the lifeless bodies of all the monks in the monastery.

Worry not. Their deaths have not been in vain. I shall see to it that their demise shall have a purpose.

Tashokan snatched for his quarterstaff and stood up, his back facing the man.

Why have you come, stranger? Why do our deaths matter to you?” He asked, anger slowly building in his voice.

I simply seek answers, Grandmaster.

And what may be this question that would cost the lives of MY students?” He was already about to submit to his rage, but still he somehow managed to control his tone.

The age old question of ‘To what measure is a man’s lifetime should he remain firm as the immortal pyramids crumble ?’. However, it should matter not, as the answer stands right in front of me.

Finally, Tashokan turned around with a glare full of fury and defiance, his golden eyes bearing down intently at him.

Aahh...Those eyes. Eyes that can see into the fabric of time. Eyes that render Age insignificant. Eyes that could only be obtained at the so called Heart of the World, a place where time itself submits to the power of the mountain. A place where time has no meaning, a place where the world is frozen in blissful ignorance.”

You slaughtered my people...Just to have these eyes. May Prāṇa have mercy on you.

The man attempts a step forward, however, suddenly everything is enveloped by a sheet of gray, sapping all of its color except Tashokan. All had been frozen in place, unable to move; the stranger, the candle fire, the crystal snowflakes, and even the particles of dust. It was the power of Tashokan’s eyes. These mystic eyes were said to perceive time as a manipulable concept by thought alone, and this ability was called amongst the Carhanān Grandmasters as ‘Bo Arathra Vigda’. Tashokan’s form was considered unique and remarkable as he was able to freeze time as he wished. It was a form he achieved with an entire lifetime devoted to intense meditation at the Mountain’s most secluded areas.

With his enemy in place, the grandmaster swept through the ground in a swift motion then leapt into the air, stretching his left leg forward as he neared down, forming an aerial kick then landed his foot into the thigh of his enemy. The blow sent powerful ripples to move all over the body of his opponent as a single Ta’alic character appeared in the form of bright ardent flames. The character read ‘Banshu’, it was a technique, the first of three, that attacked the nervous system and completely shuts down the human body’s motor functions rendering him completely paralyzed.

Afterwards, he spun his body and lashed a fierce roundhouse kick in the man’s skull, bashing his heel against his enemy’s face in such force that it twisted his head in a whole one hundred eighty degree turn. This time, the character that appeared was “Zhōng”. It momentarily stopped the brain from functioning, placing the victim in a state of temporal death. It was rumored that this attack literally kicked the spirit out its body.

And finally, with his staff glowing with a bright sheath of light, visible sparks of energy flowing through his grasp, he lunged the staff point in rapid succession three times into the man’s chest, with each hit leaving a burnt Ta’alic character into his skin. Around that point, the effect of Bo Arathra Vigda had ended and the flow of time resumed to normal, but just in time for Tashokan to land one final punch into his enemy’s chest as he yelled the final words to complete the set of three.

RYUUDAN!

This final attack in the deadly series of techniques was designed to utterly destroy the body, making it combust from the inside, provided the first two conditions were met.

However, just as his enemy’s body bloated with destructive energies, the old grandmaster noticed something that should not be.

The man, about to implode, suddenly changed his appearance into one of Tashokan’s monks. Or rather, it wasn’t the man after all, but a devious trick where he just unwittingly killed one of his own students. Unable to stop the effect of the attack, Tashokan helplessly watched as one of his beloved disciples blew in a gruesome fountain of blood and charred flesh.

Realizing his grave mistake, he tried to turn around upon noticing that his real enemy was standing behind him.

Tricked, Tashokan once again activated Bo Arathra Vigda, but suddenly, to reasons unknown to him, had failed. A technique he had mastered for years had failed him. Tashokan was largely confused.

Everything did turn to a shade of gray, as he had expected, but only for a brief second. The very same second he had decided to use that power.

Still puzzled, Tashokan pauses then noticed blood dripping from his lips, painting his long white beard crimson. He eventually looked down and saw that the man’s arm had burst through his right chest, clenching the monk’s bloody and still beating heart.

How?..” Asked Tashokan.

We fight in a place of a giant boundary. A boundary that has rendered time nigh meaningless...Anywhere else...You might have won.” Spoke the man.

“I see...It seems fate as deemed it just that our Sect perish.” Spoke the dying grandmaster as he gasped for air.

Worry not, your deaths shall have a purpose. I promise you. Be grateful that you shall meet your God very soon. The world is in dire need of the faithful.

And with that, he quickly ended the suffering of the monk and squished his heart. He pulled out his arm and wrapped his arms around Tashokan’s head in a tight neck hold. With a savage twist, he snapped the corpse’s neck and brutally ripped out the dead monk’s head from his body.

Holding the severed head of his defeated opponent, he uttered-

Your eyes. You shall no longer be needing them.

*****


Two centuries and thirty years later.


I-I killed him...I killed him!” Said a frantic young boy in his teens, wearing brown wool clothes, khaki pants and a Gatsby cap- a common fashion trend among teenage boys, as he ran into the narrow alleyways of North Aumburg. The scared boy peeked out into the sides to check if anyone was following him, but to his relief there was none other than the usual stray dogs that prowled the city streets and some men rushing to and fro doing their own business. It was a site of trade, a place where saloon shops line the city walk and some vendors went about selling various goods on their big steam pedal bikes that made as much noise as their voices could. On one side, some engineers and laborers were constructing a new building of sorts. Their heavy machineries, almost as tall as the building itself, made of a dirty shade of brass, and pumping clouds of steam, had something like a long metal arm where at the end, located was a very long pulley. It was used to bring up and lower down materials too heavy for the men to lift.

It seemed that the people here were too busy to have a care about him and his troubles.

What do I do?...It was definitely an accident...I never knew something like that would happen..” He said as he slammed his hands against the brick wall.

The fires...I didn’t do it...I-

But suddenly, out of the shadows, a dark figure appears just as the boy was busying lamenting. He had white hair and was dressed like a priest. But more importantly, he had golden eyes.

Wh-Who’re you??” Exclaimed the boy in shock.

Come with me, boy. I shall teach you more about the nature of your powers. I shall give your existence...meaning.

As if struck by a trance, the boy immediately obeyed and followed the man into the darkness.




END OF PROLOGUE




lordkaho -> RE: Vanho Mortaurus- The Boundary of Existence (10/10/2012 19:32:13)

Prologue I- The Steam Tower



Towering spires threw their misshapen shadows along the course of the cobblestone streets. Evening was approaching along the horizon much like the racing Vyzwen clansmen across the Vyzwa Plains. The towers themselves were horrid in their appearance, cascading in angled spirals and robust protrusions wherever there weren't small impish gargoyles planted on feeble blocks of cement. Just looking at such a building made a person go mad trying to pick out a basic shape, let it be a square or a circle.

The Aasim Abdul Basir was the center of the small, gear-winding city of Januavar. Januavar was once a mighty Tehrt fortress held in power by the cannibalistic, psychotic Pharaohs until the Cystic Empire sacked it virtually overnight. Januavar held one of the seven Cystic Towers of Paradise, which generates power for the city that surrounds them. Steam-powered machines were becoming popular all over the Western Hemisphere that not a living soul was interested with electrically charged machines. Then again, only a fraction of the population knew.

Januavar banned electricity within city limits, more or less under the jurisdiction of the Cystic. If you were caught with so much as a pocket cable you were sent to the Tower. Whatever, or whoever, resides within the Tower leaves only rotten corpses and the occasional half-eaten organ at the Tower gates. Victor walked around within the Tower in search of The Atrocity. That's what the natives insisted on calling it. Discharge ran off the Tesla Coils on his back, signaling pent-up energy. He needed to ventilate without warrantying unwanted attention.

The ominous glow of spectral aura showed in the peripheral vision of the Frankenstein, prompting him to turn about face. He met the incoming bandaged fist and tilted back slightly. He placed his right leg back and swung his left outwards. The being jumped back into the shade of a generator, narrowly dodging Victor's kick.

"Victor, wait. It's me, Anubis." The being stepped out into view, revealing a heavily decorated mummy. The Frankenstein straightened his posture and continued walking. Without saying a word Victor conveyed a casual "it's ok", and Anubis learned this quite quickly. He himself should have inspected his target before he began an assault. If it was anything, Victor did the same. The Tehrt mummy-lich shook the notions from his mind and continued walking. Victor momentarily paused in his steps, signaling to Anubis to turn around. They backed into each other and awaited their enemies.

A shadow passed over one of the spiraling shafts, warranting the attention of the Tehrt Mummy-Lich. The loud roars of machinery closed in, and the source crawled into the light. It took only the sight of the mechanical claws and the gear-like snout to convince Victor something wasn't right.

Galvanic Hounds in a steam tower?

The monstrous beast crept in unison to the clicking gears and winding clockwork that it was composed of. Its eyes glowed a dull yellow, powered by the light bulbs that hid under the glass cover. Electricity made this creature live, although, it was never born alive. It was created in a factory somewhere in Cystica, powered by Victor's studies and theories he created nearly a thousand years ago. He had contemplated on that decision of leaving those old documents behind in his laboratory. Or maybe then, he should have burned them with his beautiful wife's body. She was a sad casualty in the power struggle of magic and science.

But even now, Victor is a living paradox: an undead man supercharged on electricity who shares the same personality as lightning, He closed his eyes and slowly intook oxygen. His heart-rate was beyond normal, beating ten-thousand beats per second. The Magical Council was to blame for all of this, and they've nearly cornered him. If it's true that this Tower of Paradise is storing electricity, Victor would have just enough power to storm another Magic Council citadel.

He looked back to see Anubis stand without hesitation, or fear. He was somewhat curious as to the origins of such a grotesque, abnormal being of nature. Besides freeing him from a previous storming of a Magic Council citadel, he knew very little of him. As far as Anubis would say about his past, it wasn't much. He was a Tehrt Pharaoh mummy-lich whose mission was to rule Tehrt for himself, to have true absolute power. There wasn't a moment when Anubis had nearly killed Victor, twice only a few days ago. Victor nonetheless saw Anubis as a respectable and honest ally.

A galvanic hound leaped into the air, some twenty feet and just about kissed the ceiling of the corridor. It came down with great speed and held it¡¯s gaping jaws open.

Victor was it's next meal. However, it didn't know its prey very well.

As if catching a small child Victor clenched on the front of the jaw, mending it permanently closed. He forced it into the cement flooring and created a rather small crater with the back of the beast. It wriggled as he planted a foot on it, crushing it under his surreal weight. If it was one thing that Victor didn't mind, it was his attained abilities. It was more of a blessing than a curse, although there were times that made him want to turn himself to pieces. Only thing is, he tried, and he put himself back together subconsciously.

Another galvanic hound growled as it came into view from one of the spires. It leaped off, soaring with speed greater than the previous. Anubis gave a faint glow before outstretching his hands and stretched his bandages beyond it's normal limit. He wrangled the mechanized monster and pulled it towards him. It struggled in the cocoon-like bandages. Anubis turned the bandages back into his hands and grabbed it by the face, planting his pointing and middle fingers within its eye sockets. He took one hand and impaled the hound with it and threw it back to Victor. It landed on of the massive Tesla Coils protruding from his back. It yelped as it was haplessly sapped of the energy that it so preciously protected and landed on the floor with a simple thud.

After sapping the first galvanic hound of energy Victor threw it aside and turned to Anubis.

"You really don't have to help me Anubis." The mummy-lich waved his hand, gesturing a 'no'. Victor sighed, and felt a slight static cling on his shoes. He looked down and looked back to see Anubis gone. After close inspection and hearing the sounds of more metal-tearing, he realized Anubis had shifted through the floor and appeared on the basement level. His speed was incredible, and Victor hadn't realized he left.

"Victor, what are you waiting for," Anubis asked. "Isn't this the thing you were looking for?, Victor raised a foot and slammed it into the pavement, breaking it and falling through the gaping hole. He landed on a struggling galvanic hound, ending its life abruptly. He looked up and rubbed his eyes a bit. The object of search was before him: a massive electrical orb filled with pure energy. Anubis had destroyed the controls and the galvanic hounds guarding the device. Victor walked over, rubbing the gears of the galvanic hound on the floor. His hair began to run wild with discharge and static electricity, his coat began to rise. He simply placed his hands on the orb and the process began.

[image]http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f239/bloodraze/Vanho%20Mortaurus/CCI10112012_000002_zps9d047451.jpg[/image]



His eyes turned into pure energy and gravity ceased to exist around him. A blast of energy splashed out onto the Frankenstein, hugging him, pulling him in closer like a lover would to his or her partner. He smirked, revealing dangerously sharpened teeth. The Tesla Coils began shooting off energy beams randomly in all directions, save for the spot Anubis stood in. Victor slowly lifted the orb and crushed it, and the last remains of the electricity seeped into his fingers. Gravity assumed its natural right, and all became still.

Anubis looked around and looked at Victor.

"Victor, I sense high quantities of mana inside the Tower."

"The Council moves quick. Come, let us make our leave.¡" He breathed in more air, static energy rolling off his face. He breathed out a massive beam of energy, destroying the machine, second and outer layers of the wall. The exit showed a never-expanse of desert, something Victor was accustomed to looking at. Anubis leaped out and jumped into the sand, and swam out. Victor closed his eyes as he himself ran outside, the Tower quickly heading out of sight.


End of Prologue I




lordkaho -> RE: Vanho Mortaurus- The Boundary of Existence (10/12/2012 7:52:51)

Prologue II- Wunderland

The following accounts are based off the personal experiences of Henry Vance Agincourt
December 11,1703- Waalz




Let me tell you something about ol’ Carroll Mansion.

It’s this grand Franchesckan-style house up Little Parasol hill, just overlooking Dunkelt to the west. From the townspeople’s perspective, only the top of the mansion could be seen amidst the ever present fog that concealed its presence that made it getting there an arduous task in itself, and save for the narrow road that ran down the slope of the hill, the mansion was blanketed by dense wilderness of the surrounding White Forest.

It was very old, somehow built around the summer of 1522. The original owners of the mansion have been lost to history especially after the brutal years of Revolution had resulted in the destruction of most of the historical records in Waalz. However, after painstaking research, I have traced their identities down to their reputed descendant, the current Earl of Vismarcke- Deitreich Von Kempler, who now changed his residency over at Lamburg, leaving the Carrol Mansion masterless ever since. The good Earl said that the mansion was built by his great grand uncle Eiberhart Carroll, the Lord Archibald of Dunkelt, in dedication to his daughter Alice Carroll who he wanted to live there as a present for her 11th birthday.

However, Earl Deitreich adds, little Alice never made it to her 11th birthday. The Red Plague of the 16th century had ravaged much of Waalz and took Alice with it. Nevertheless, the house was still finished, but Lord Eiberhart never dared step foot in it. He left the grand house sitting untouched in Little Parasol hill for centuries, as a memory of his dead daughter

It is often the subject of rumors and tales that ol’ Carroll mansion was the final resting place of lil’ Alice Carroll. And as typical of the superstitious townsfolk, it had been common belief that that house was badly haunted. But as a true scholar and a believer in the sciences, I mustered up the courage to break the spell of Carroll Mansion and march up Little Parasol hill.

It would then mark the worst mistake of my life.

It was September 21, 1702. The gentle autumn breeze brushed against my skin as I walked out the door of my house, carrying a knapsack full of various accessories and items for my excursion. The withered red-orange maple leaves swayed lightly as the west wind blew them into my direction. I gazed into the horizon as I watched the afternoon sunset. Matilda and the kids were busy preparing for an event this weekend. I knew they wouldn’t bother much while I was gone. “Better move on”, I thought to myself as I quickened my pace out into the outskirts of town.


It was already 5:34 PM when I reached the foot of the hill, and there I met an odd sign at the crossroads that forked into the hill and into the main road. It said;

Scarlet, laughing smile. Won’t you dance with me?

I was left confused as to what the meaning behind this road sign was. It was a simple wooden plank hammered into a two meter long pole, written in bright red paint...Or so, it was what I think it was. The sign seemed to be written not long ago, as the still wet ‘ink’ dripped down the sides. The cursive penmanship was distinctly childish, written in a manner similar to crude juvenile vandalism so I merely passed it off as a mere prank made by some mischievous children.

I continue walking up the road in fear that the night might bring about the fog even more denser and lose my way. Little Parasol hill, true to its name looked like a small umbrella from afar, with its pointed top being where the mansion stood. It was like the perfect gift to any hopeful girl, to live in the beautiful paradise of their dreams. The further I went I began to notice that the cobble stone path had not worn down even after centuries of being unattended. It made me think that somehow, the Carroll family might have hired a housekeeper to watch and tend the Mansion.

Then...Suddenly out of nowhere; a great, black cat of gargantuan size ran across the road. It was the size of a sheep dog, but meatier and furrier. It then ran up a nearby oak and proceeded to watch me with its humongous eyes. Its sharp gaze monitored my every move as I started to walk away. It was already at the verge of losing my wits upon the sight of this unnatural feline, but I struggled to maintain my calm as the cat itself seemed to not pose a threat. I was already about a yard away when I turned my back at it, and eerily enough it was still there watching me. The longer I stared at the cat, the less it resembled an animal and the more it resembled a smoky ball of blackness with two bright white orbs for eyes; I could’ve sworn hearing rusty mechanical ticking and turning gears.

But as a man of learning and logic, I paid no further heed to it and moved on. It won’t be soon when I would finally reach the gates of Carroll Mansion.

It was grand and truly fascinating, quite an understatement. I marveled at the architecture of the compound, being in awe as to how it managed to take the test of time, and still be in remarkable condition. There were some vines that crawled and coiled up the metal fence and the gate, but nothing showed that some breakdown had occurred. It was as if not even time or nature had power over this house. Beside the gate, there were two lifelike stone lion statues, a typical decoration of many dwellings of the rich and the high class, acting like would be guard dogs.

I slowly opened the iron gate, in an attempt to not make any sound, but it made an unpleasant metallic screech.

I excused myself after I formally entered the Mansion grounds. It was considerably spacious, at a glance, I could say it was about two acres wide. At the center was a fountain adorned by a marble carousel, that surprisingly was still shooting forth water as it spun. I quickly moved over to inspect it and found out the marble fountain was running on some sort of mechanical contraption. Inside one of the horses, I could see copper cogs and gears twisting and turning, clicking and tapping, as the machine went. It now alarmed me that somehow, someone must be still living here for these machines to work. It hit me that, perhaps...My visit was expected.

Nevertheless, I continued with my search and set my sights unto the mansion itself. It was painted a deep shade of red, not sure if it was the intention of the owner or the paint itself had been soaked by the wooden material used, but still it made a rather astonishing effect on the eyes. It was oddly mesmerizing. Something about it pulled me in, closer and closer. I tried peering into the windows to check if someone was indeed there, but all the candles were unlit. There was nothing there but silence, save for the haunting howling of the autumn wind, and some creaks and rustlings. The vacant feeling was really starting to weigh down on me as tense and uneasiness were already nigh intolerable. But it seemed I had no choice but stay here in the Mansion was it was already dark and I feared for any gang of outlaws that I might cross on my way back to Dunkelt.

I set my hopes that the master of the mansion, if there is indeed any, would take me in for the night and hopefully, wouldn’t mind my ‘harmless’ trespassing.

Carroll Mansion, on the inside, was a house that truly expressed Lord Eiberhart’s love for his daughter. No amount of penny was spared in the beautifying of its interior, from the lush crimson hue of the window curtains, to the fine carpeting that paved some of its floors, and to the exquisite silver chandelier that hung at the reception hall. There were all manners of girlish items that scattered all over the area, like marble busts of animals, paintings of the fabled unicorns, and glass cabinets filled with dolls and toys. All of them I assumed were presents for Alice.

However, amidst its beauty, the unnerving silence and the agoraphobic tense still crept at the back of my mind. The sound of my footsteps tapping against the checkered style floor sounded in unison to the beating of my heart. It was starting to get nauseous.

I was about to place my hand on the wooden hand rail of the wide stairway located at the center of the hall, when to my alarm, the cat from earlier walked past me up the steps. Bringing back my previous hunch, the throng of mechanical sounds that accompanied this mysterious cat led me to conclude that it might be an automaton made as a pet for the Carrolls. The cat eventually led me to a massive portrait of a girl wearing a pretty dress, and tugging a doll to her side. The cat bared a toothy grin, with alarmingly dagger like rows of teeth and darted off into the darkness. I returned my gaze at the picture and thought to myself;


So this was little Alice?


[image]http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f239/bloodraze/Vanho%20Mortaurus/Alice1.jpg[/image]




However, the longer I gazed into the portrait, to my horror- the image of the girl, Alice, smiled back at me. Thinking it might have been my imagination, I looked back at the picture, but Alice’s once innocent smile only grew wider and wider until it devolved into a menacing grin.

From sheer terror, I jumped down the stairs in a matter of seconds and raced towards the main door. As if the mansion suddenly gained sentience, the main door did not lead me into the front yard but instead it brought me back at the reception hall. Suddenly, soft gentle footsteps could be heard coming down from upstairs.

Frantic and scared out of my wits, I shouted-

W-WHO’S THERE?!

A voice replied.
La, la..La, la… There’s no leaving.

The voice sung, in a melody that almost seemed like a cheerful lullaby.

La, la..La,la…So cheer up, clap your hands!

The voice was getting nearer and nearer.

La, la, la..La,la, la….There’s no leaving our wonderland!

Finally, this mysterious singer revealed herself as she stepped in front of the great portrait.

What my eyes had laid upon me defied all manner of reason and sanity. It was then I realized the sheer gravity of the situation I was in. The moment I saw that road sign, was the moment I should have heeded it as a warning.

It was Alice herself, cradling her precious doll- Lil’ Alice Carroll, alive and well, and just as young as a she was in the portrait. Unknown to age and death. Smiling ever so sweetly at her heart’s content. Bearing eyes of gold and skin as pale as the snow.

Muffling a silent scream, I slowly backed off but instead I bumped into ‘something’. Turning around, if my eyes could only scream, I was met by the gruesome figure of a tall butler bearing the head of a furry white hare. This rabbit-man servant had glistening red eyes, and slowly stepped back at a shuffling gait along the maddening chorus of turning gears. Another clockwork automaton?! Thoughts raced inside my mind. The butler then bowed before me and spoke in a manner that could only be the gurgling voice of evil.

Pardon me, Monsieur…But the lady has been waiting for your arrival.

Without warning, it lashed both its arms at me with unbelievable speed. I wrestled myself away from his mechanical grip, but it was futile. It stared at me for a good three seconds and then, its once ruby eyes turned pitched black, with tar like liquid flowing forth from what used to be eye sockets. Its tiny, delicate mouth stretched and widened in the most horrifying of ways, with the awful sound of skin ripping and tearing, showing me a mouth that was nothing but an ellipse shaped hole of utter darkness.

The next thing I remember was getting swallowed by this gaping blackness.

But, the worst has yet to come. No, good Ol’ Carroll Mansion was far from done playing with me.

Alice had far more plans for me.

I woke up finding myself in some sort hallway. Windows lined down the corridor to the left and doors, indicating individual rooms, to my right. But once again, there was nothing but utter silence, great deafening silence. Realizing that this was now my chance to escape, I tried smashing one of the windows with my fists but to no effect. The rooms on the other hand, terrified me of the thought of what would’ve laid on the other side of it. It was simply something I dared not risk. I had no other choice but discover what was at the end of the hallway.

Suddenly, each door I moved past by would open then close should I look back. Thinking it was just the mansion playing tricks on me again, I ran as fast as I could towards the end all the while the sequence of opening and closing doors matched my pace with almost perfect timing. No longer able to withstand my curiosity, I feinted a half step then quickly turned around to see who it was. I then bumped into a person, or so I think he was, dressed in a most outlandish style. He wore a thick great brown cloak and a tall beaver felt-hat. I immediately jumped away in shock, but the man did the same. He would then mimic every move I did, until finally shouted;

Stop it!

I expected it to be another one of the automatons, but surprisingly, this one was intelligible and replied;

Oh..hahaha..Sorry about that. I just got too amused in seeing what the rooms looked like on the inside.

So,…You were the one closing and opening the doors back there?”, I asked him.

Yes..Indeed that I was.. To be frank. I’m kind of lost here.

For an instance, I actually felt somehow relieved, that there was someone just as I am in this house of madness.

Wait..You’re not one of this mansion’s tenants?

But he didn’t reply. He just stared at me with his bright green eyes, and out of nowhere, had burst into a hysterical laughter. He spun on his toes like some sort of ballet dancer as his cloak flailed around, all the while resuming his mad cackle and then promptly stopped. He looked at me with confused eyes then grabbed me by the shoulders.

Wh-what?!” I exclaimed.

I’M LATE!!...Oh gods..I’m LATE!..Do you know that?” His tone suddenly rose to a shout then fell into a soft, gentle whisper.

Of course you don’t. I bet you don’t even like tea…Or tea parties.

What are you talking about?!” I screamed as I struggled to make sense of this person’s sanity.

Oh no, oh no! She’s here. She be heeerrrrreeeeeeee~

He then immersed himself into a suffocating burst of manic chortle. Sanity and logic had long escaped the premises of this mad abode, and what happened next came off as something nothing short of expected. His body bloated into a tight balloon, still in his hysterical fit, and without warning imploded into masses of writhing and slithering disembodied tentacles that wriggled as they rained upon me, leaving only the echoing traces of his insane laughter. I quickly swatted the slimy tendrils away from me but, fortunately for me, they quickly dissolved into blotches of red sludge. However true to what he said, she, who I assumed was referring to Alice, walked down the hall towards me. But this time, she was scraping a giant butcher’s knife along the floor while she twirled around with her doll; full of such youthful grace.

Where have you left my presents?” She sung.

Where, o where can it be?

I tried to run, but my body betrayed me. My body suddenly felt limp and I found myself crashing against the floor like a string less marionette. I tried to scream for help, but my voice too, had left my mouth. Unable to escape or shout, I simply listened to the song of the inevitable death nearing me.

Are they just empty socks? Oh, just who do I need to kill? Who? Who? Who shall it be?

Standing atop me, the devil child raised her cleaver above her head and continued with her song.

When the clock comes to a halt, I shall dance with automata on the Ides of March. But playing with just dolls is boring.

In one quick stroke, the cleaver fell down towards me. The gargantuan blade brutally ripped through my defenseless abdomen, reeling from every bite of steel as it plunges deep into my flesh, and wasting away that precious red liquid of life. Unable to neither scream nor cry, the mind numbing pain rose up to my head. Amusingly, the agony of flesh and bone being sheared began to feel like an ecstasy to my senses, as my anguished squirm turned to a crooked smile. Alice giggled as she proceeded to make mincemeat out of my body with every staggering chop and slice.

And all the insides fell out, carved like the face of a pumpkin! A mannequin covered in blood, will never dance!

That would be the last I would hear of Alice’s song, as my vision turned completely black.


I could never decipher the meaning behind her words nor will I fully grasp what exactly happened on that night, but what I do know is that for some reason, I am still alive. I try to convince myself that the episode at Carroll Mansion had all been just a terrible nightmare but unfortunately, I still bear the marks of that battle. For sure, you can say that I’m now less of a skeptic now when it came to the strange and the supernatural.

From time to time, I would feel like not being myself, being unable to control my body, it was as if I was a puppet held by strings. But I never paid much attention to it, I’m just glad to be alive, to be with my wife and children. It was all that matters to me now.

The inhabitants of Carroll Mansion however…there are just things in this world not meant to be alive.






~Henry

END OF PROLOGUE II







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