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"I will give you one last chance" screaming over the torrent of wind and sand that flooded the area, whipping into our faces. Coughing, mouths covered with a ratty bandana. They were descending too quickly; I could hear the hum of their engines, that grating noise every so often like some kind of alarm.

"And what then?" screaming back as the duo trudged away, sand getting into hair, clothes, boots, the uncomfortable places on a human body. Bodies turned, backs to the torrent and hoods up, although it did little to stem the onslaught.

"First you have to get out of here!" Goggles adorned, and that classic look made the other smile. Grunewald. Blue robe, strawberry red but sun bleached to gold hair and that nerdy set of goggles. Miraculously the lenses weren't chipped, but perhaps scratched now.

A sudden gust drove the other to the ground, yelping as the ships drew near and the sounds of chatter and broken speech could now be heard.

"Goddammit!" he hissed, looking back. "Up, quickly now!" grabbing the others arm, half hauling her around as sand tried to swallow up her much smaller frame.

Hissing, the female procured a staff, lips wording archaic syllables as silver eyes looked out at the other male. With a few circular motions, a sensation of ripping but no sound to accompany it, the air quivered as a 'hole' was cut into reality. On the other side, green pastures, trees, a blue sky: completely opposite of where they were at. The female trudged and nearly stepped through before the male pulled her back.

"You have to make mine!" hissing as he looked at her. Rolling her eyes, she began again.

"You know, you can make you're own" voice rang out, the gusts of wind slowing down, knots of fear tightening in each ones gut.

"Just do it!" he screamed, shadows began forming in the settling dust, their cover about blown. Gulping, the woman muttered syllables and waved her staff again. A hand shot out from those blue robes as he grabbed the staff muttering a word, the destination somehow changed as the ripping sensation was felt, the reality split open again. Grunewald dashed through on his side, hollering to close the portal.

Where he stepped through was another matter entirely.

The atmosphere felt thinner, gravity was off; each step felt heavier. The air was damp, smelling of rot and decay and the sizzling smell of energies burning the air as that strange burning ozone scent assaulted the nose.

Here the light that shined was covered by thick clouds in the sky, it felt like it had just rained, but that it would again soon. In fact, Grunewald couldn't recall when it didn't rain, or snow, or anything. The sun never shown; plant were either dead or greyed, the ground slick and treacherous as he climbed upon strange rock outcroppings. They shined under the dullest of light, looking like wet obsidian, yet sharp and jagged as the stone.
The higher he got, the stranger the outcroppings became till the spires looked planned, deliberate, as if meticulously crafted by a spell. Curving, the planes of that black, glassy substance seemed to suck in all light, and perhaps energy as the very air felt like it would turn lesser being into ice. The surface appeared to be nearly formless, so smooth that Grunewald feared touching it. And that wasn't the only thing alien here.

Nestled into the earth and mountain a grand fortress stood; the material like that of the obsidian, yet not so organic to be mistaken as part of the landscape. The spires seemed to touch the clouds, the flying buttresses greeting anybody who approached. The somber mood, the formidable look of it, Grunewald swallowed as he dared himself to trudge forward.  
The place he knew, had visited multiple of times. It still awed him, still made him quake with fear, and still reminded him of some Gothic cathedral on steroids. He had never explored the reaches nor depths of the place, and knew that terrors were held within; there were places that held epic monstrosities like a prison. And rooms that held weapons and other magical oddities, secretly kept away from prying hands and eyes.

The air whipped up, rain pattering as it poured; the storm had returned. Feet quickly took him to the edge where an expansive staircase laid. Grabbing the railing, scaling each step as it grew more and more slick, cursing that there wasn't a simple door or something.

No mote protected this place, but then again who knew of it's existence, let alone lived to tell another. Gulping now and reaching the top, the door opened on it's own accord. Oh yes, the place seemed to be alive. The inner corridor once again was new to him; if Hogwarts's moving stairs were confusing enough, imagine a place who's own layout changed on the whim of the creator. It seemed physically impossible in all matters of engineering and science, and yet here he was, staring as the length of that hallway seemed to expand and stretch. He swore he heard the laughter of a Jester somewhere.

Yet... he felt he knew the place. Feet took him to a grand door, down dark  hallways, spiral staircases and other vistas the eye refused to believe. Air grew malicious yet alive, filled with eldritch energy as something dark tugged at his very soul. He tried to over think it, tried to reason it away, but the feeling persisted.

He finally came to a place that appeared dark, in fact, how did he get here? Looking around, there was no door, no hallway. The room had no ending, no walls, nothing. It felt like he was in a miasma of sorts as mind reeled in fear. The light only played at the shadows, yet where was it coming from? There was nothing there!

"Grunewald" that voice rumbled, rolling through reality as it shuddered, a floating staircase emerging from the floor, taking one higher and higher. Soon the void gave way to form as books, scrolls, cages, things of a tinkerer, inventor, magician... a Warden of a very elaborate prison system... it seemed one could find everything here. Stepping up on a floating landing, he found himself faced with a cloaked being. Gazing up, it felt like infinity bowed to him.

"The deed is done" he whispered, gulping as the other drew near him. He really didn't have much to fear, yet why did the god make him want to turn and scream?

With a wave of his hand, a red light suddenly pierced the veil of darkness, that Jester's laugh growing louder and louder till it finally roared in front of him; a great red sphinx stepping lightly into the forum. It's multitude of masked faces looked at him, some eyes narrowing, others widening. "A toy?!" childlike, excited, body quivered as fur ruffled and flattened, its many hands eager to get a hold of him. Yelping and jumping back, Grunewald eyes the other.

"I thought we agreed he wasn't being used!" whining as he looked on at the red sphinx.

"Variables have changed, so must the agreement" a blinding flash of light the being summoned forth a quill as out of the swirling smoke an orb appeared, inside the lights of a thousand specters writhed about. Dipping the quill inside before drawing archaic runes onto something, Grunewald could see it, but it spelled a sort of doom, but what he couldn't know of. Not yet.

"Pray that I do not alter it anymore" hissing as the being looked down on Grunewald. "Go, watch" commanding the sphinx as it tore through reality.
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