Festering

Realms beyond the living laws are strange places. Where the law of dream, mind powers, and willpower of the soul are what control large sways of lands. Hidden just off the side, hidden in darkness, or just out of sight. Yet it is there and not there to be touched.

The land of undertakers is a gentle spider's web. The cardinal directions are the main support anchors that keep the library of forbidden tomes from rising to heaven or falling to hell. These names can belong either way, precarious existence as the ones who own them.

The invaders of the Silverstone Empire are nothing more than an angry mob of ants or wasps. Attacking the spiders but they are unable to unspin this web, unable to break the 8 direction anchors to achieve delusional hope. Be it to break the times or to take out the layers of hell. Who knows?

The corridors of the undertaker realm are in one of the three types of status. They are crystal time-locked, preventing anyone from moving in or out. No one but the Luna seems to access time-frozen places, not in this realm of law. Then if not that, they are full of warfighting to keep territory. The lost land is covered in a fine shine of sprayed silver metal.

The latest ideas of the empire to break this realm. That silver liquid will melt away everything it contacts. But this change cannot happen if time is locked from changing. Thus a stalemate of space for fighting sides. Although the writing is on the walls. She can see it better than the undertakers.

If she does nothing, the undertaker will lose. There will be none left. It is not a matter of when. It is a question of why has it not happened already. To what factor for why the enemy not won yet?

Since there isn't anyone to stop her, she began to spy on the enemies that camp the place. She steals their weapons to lower the chance of problems when they do find her. She felt she was in the glare of them at the side of shadow and still, nothing makes sense for why. Not even having to learn their language and body signals for what they think is true and lies. Even when she has one peeing on the floor from spotting her, still at their mercy... nothing good enough came to word. She had been too lucky. Someone will get wise of her.

"The timing of such moments couldn't have been more planned." An undertaker nearby hissed in frustration, "Escort the saved ambassadors to safety. The alert has been sounded for the prelude of another raid." as many as 7 guests are currently free from time stopped corridor and pairs take individual guests to the newest to be time sealed corridors. Given the newest stocked sleeper cozy room before the corridor is as sealed as they can make it. The task force aligns itself to make this place even better secure. The last to leave was the grim reaper, he held his hand out for the raven to have returned barely. He is the last sealed in the time-stop corridor.

Everyone else was turned to fight, weapons drawn, and the standoff.

Echoes of free-moving areas are already loud with metal and shouting. They were gladly prepared better than before.

This raid was too short. She felt it was wrong. The raid is short-lived. There were no casualties from those wounded by both the empire and undertakers. Hostages are taken but for now, it seems an upper hand for the undertakers. Yet just to be sure, Luna has already been incredibly nosy about what was in the invader's pockets. She also helped herself to the necklaces they have worn. So slick that they didn't even know they weren't wearing them. All in the course of the fighting, a little slip of shadow stole from them.

Something is wrong. She just knows it. Yet they will not trust her. She is her own side. That much was clear now. They are going to deal with her eventually, regardless of which side of war wins.

"Lock the prisoners together." Chained and dumped into a bath chamber. They added holy water, not to heal the invaders but see for bad intentions. It's not documented what reaction happens to these invaders in holy water. If they were angels, salt bath would have been used instead.

"Take." She gave everything that she stole from pockets. It so happens to be the cross dresser again. The deep look into the expression the undertaker wears, that glare of distrust, "I took it from them. Now they not going anywhere." She shows the necklaces being passed, plain and clear. The prisoner all hissed at such sight wiggled in panic, "They were going to use the crystal necklaces to disappear. All part of some scheme to be equal tie for when they give you back their hostages. This is an upper hand that will not last." She looks at the prisoners, "Turly if I am going to pick who deals with me when this is over. I hope it's you undertakers but I can see it slim chances."

"You still got that living instinctive notions. They are useless when your dead." She shook at such ignorant words. Hand at the shoulder and deep look inside those eyes.

"You don't seem all that broken and dead to me." She spoke so soft and so slow. There drips a cold under tone that passed in clay body, "I didn't leave this universe and come back a hunter of God slayers." She gives them space and looks at these prisoners, "I am the tome keeper of broken pages. I am the holder of realms past the point of shatter but not engulfed to nothing. I hold sand fragments of specks of what use to be God's, demon Lords and humanity." She tilts in just checking of the undertaker believes her. No. She sighed at them.

"And where is all that? I don't see it."

"Because you see with your eyes. Souls don't have eyes." She tilts indicates her smile, "It takes a broken soul to see another. You are too neat... cracked a bit but you aren't anything that the title god of death can't handle." She looks properly at these prisoners. She had a terrible idea, "Prude? right?" The cross dresser shivered in stepping away from her, "If they go missing. You tell anyone that asked that I took them." She posed hand at where a mouth should be, "They make wonderful... things." She softly sees that the undertaker ran fast, "Cool. I take that as permission." She posed a finger up.

The wave of that right hand lifted so many traps she constructed in sheer boredom. These traps are not to kill what is already dead. No. These are to make them scream and shout. Such perfect bait. If you have an infestation of insects. You draw them in and use the there own natural ways to drive them out. The alternative of burning the place down is an option she can accomplish. To many universes and experiences. She can do what Silverstone wants, no army needed. But she doesn't have the motivate nor the desire for it.

She will make best with what she is given. No one trusts her. Well she give them a reason to make her their friend or fear. Being the fear of undertakers is amazing title to own among dreamers.

She takes the chains of the prisoners and dragged their unwilling asses behind her. They weigh nothing to her, not even the sins they bare to be intwinded in chains. Them traps faded in her pocket too.

"Who are you and where are you taking us?" The last of the lot at the end of the chains.

"Like you can hear me speak." She huffed.

"Crap... that's not an undertaker." She used the chain to whip them for that. A lot of unhappy grunts.

"Are you for them?" The idiot at the end of the cue is chatty.

"Oi!" Personal guard of the king. She paused woth being impressed at least.

"I told Prude that making bait out of them." She waved her right hand and the breeze cuts them to give her way. She sighed in how they cut hear her. So she wonders if Prude did at all. She whips up these chains a new layout on all seven of these prisoners. At her own strength alone strung the up along a wall. She dusts hands a moment and now sent a Chain to fetch her a mirror of the enemy's own. She hung it the opposite side of the prisoners. The king's guard lowered in confusion but were interested where this was going. She wags finger at them if they step closer, so they get it to provide space. She busts out her black sand, chaorl sticks and plenty of rainbow salt. She crafted these perfect traps of runic mystery. She then began to lift some traps ready to pin folks. She rubs hands and sets a chair and sits enjoying the on coming chaos. She is a little impatient so she pokes the sin chainsand made them hot. This made all seven prisoners scream at agony. The second she stops, someone walks the mirror. Instantaneous of being plagued by runic magic and hung by rope by the made trap. She claps at the show and the undertakers look to each other in exactly thinking this same thing. She's not normal and it takes a certain type of crazy for this level. She posed a warm welcome to the next fly in her trap. She even laughed at the one that cut his rope as he fell into another one of hee pin down traps. She was at sport again, sighing of the lifetimes.

There a level of orchestra about it all. As on trap clacked, there follows a rhythm of chain rattle and a gear snap. A foot step and repeating the clack, rattle and snap. Throw the occasional mutter or scream and this place has a taboo rhythm to it.

"Freak!" The chained ones hissed and for sure, the narrow missing of their face. A little drip stream from the cheek. She turns at facing them and lifted that veil that covered her face.

"Is that so? Come on. You can think of something more insulting." She their nose, "I am a faceless being. There has to be something you can compare me too."

"You are void." She make her tongue click at that and for being able to hear she can make such noise. Draw more attention of looking for a face they can not see.

"Monster!" She crossed arms at this, like it just didn't sit right.

"That be insulting to a real monster. You call a three headed dog a monster. That poor guy doesn't seem me like him." She kicked the wall of the next one along, "What you call me?"

"Dementor!" She posed at thinking this over. Dementors aren't something she looked up yet. But this doesn't sit right.

"Soulless puppet." Beside them. She shakes at this.

"Soulless? Really? No. I have dealt with them. I am not that." She posed left hand of allowing the name game to continue with anyone willing. She happy to allow the undertakers to join in. She tilts in indications that she did.

"An ex-human and maybe more a dewar walker." Posed among the king's guard in suggestion. She softly nods but waved that there could have been more flare about it.

"A nightmare's keeper." The partner voiced.

"Nah, that's someone else." She spoke in such a way that everyone understood her for once, "I am the keeper of broken souls. Not nightmares but I do have a few of them broken nightmares in my pocket." She softly goes about fixing up some the traps and chained newbies to the wall, "Sin chains are made of more then metal. Formed not just of guilt or sin. I've seen these hold hell from itself. These chains are bonds. Hate or love. Owning them means someone out somewhere thinks of you. Someone in this universe has unfinished business in your souls deal." She moved them as if weightless as feathers, "Clearly you all are strong enough for these burdens. Fragile souls." She sighed, "The names in my pages were the even gods or the universe can't help you. Broken sand dust. It's all you are. Nothing left or maybe that was everything you will ever be. We are Born from nothing, started as specks of nothing." She goes sitting back down at her chair and her hand posed of someone that wanted to speak.