The Dream was exactly how he remembered leaving it. In the mountain, close to the gate. At least, this is where he thought he left from. The area was cold, but when was the Dream ever warm? The lack of a sun or other celestial body reaching the surface made for a consistent chill in the air, but the frigid north made the cold bite only harder. He looked at the massive double doors that led back into the winded cold.

I'm not entirely sure what I am supposed to do. Jaune thought as he looked around. I do kind of want to go back to that farm area we saw previously.

A piped up his two cents. There was also that tower we went too. You know, the one with the magic seals we broke open. That farm place seemed pretty unwelcoming. He said, his head tilting in such a manner that portrayed the usual emotion

The Dreamers head tilted at the suggestion. It was a possibility, as there were some spaces within that tower he had not explored. Plus it was closer than trekking through the Frozen Wastes, the Eternal City, and back to the Farmlands. Pulling out his convenient magic map, he looked for the selection that could be the mage tower he was looking for. "God, why is this place so freaking cramped?" He muttered, scanning around like a lost tourist.

What an absurd idea, a tourist in this gray hellscape Jaune knew. He pitied whoever looked at this place and thought Man, what a great location! I should bring the kids one day! They'll love it! What a joke. The drifting drafts roamed through the stone worked halls, their soft howling drowning out anything harsher than the rise and fall of Jaune's chest. He marched up the stairs towards the mages tower. He had forgotten how many freaking stupid stairs there were to get up to the top of the inner mountain. His legs had started to burn, and the stone wore at his feet, and the hard turned tunnels of the dwarves got him lost once or twice. It didn't matter because he made it up to the wizards tower once again anyway. The lingering remains of the ward he broke open so long ago remained, the magic faintly pulling at the back of Jaune's senses. He walked through the once repelling force field, pushing open the creaking door. The tower was dark, damp, and had a persistent dripping that sounded like some pipe had burst long ago, the remnants of its load tricking down the walls of the musty place. The first room was a foyer like area, with several couches to rest upon once you got past the stoop. A staircase took one up to the second layer, where several doorways were, presumably leading into the upper levels of the tower. Jaune groaned at the prospect of having to climb more freaking stairs. Curses. He thought as he gripped the rail. It was wooden, an interesting choice for the mountain architecture. Most things were made out of stone here. He gingerly placed his hand on the organic material, a little afraid it would turn to dust under his fingertips. It held strong supporting the weight of his hand. The stairs were equally solid, made out of lingering stone instead of impermanent wood. The second level much like the first, the walls plastered purple with glued on cloths of a fine weave. It was ripped in some places, sagging down like sails laid at rest. Jaune pulled at one of the doors, surprised that it swung open rather easily. It creaked open, the sound sending echoes through the dark hall. Empty sconces lined the hallway, nested in between the various doors there. Most of them led to single rooms, stocked and filled with empty boxes and cracked crates. There was surprisingly little of value here in the side closets. At the very end of the hallway there was a door that looked more promising than the other doors. It was a locked door in decent shape, solidly made out of slats of darkened wood. He opened it, not particularly wary of anything precarious at the moment. That was a mistake, as for the first time in Jaune's life, there was an honest to god booby trap. One that would not be out of place in an India Jones movie. A small click sound came and a spike fell from the ceiling. Jaune jumped backwards in just the nick of time as the solid foot of steel fell down with the intention of impaling someone. It came so close to hitting him that it actually brushed against his foot. It clattered onto the floor, leaving a heavy dent in the stonework. Jaune looked up at the ceiling, watching for any signs that more things where going to fall from it. There were no holes to indicate that anything could fall from the ceiling in the first place. Jaune raised an eyebrow at that, the logic not quite following the physics that were normally abided by. Just to make sure that it wasn't an illusion, Jaune poked the space where the rod appeared from with a spear. It was solid plaster or stone or whatever the ceiling was made here. He was suspicious now. If traps were on the table, it ment bad things because no dark shadowy corner was safe. He approached the door again, and pushed it open. Nothing fell from the ceiling this time, much to Jaune's good fortune. The room behind the door was clearly some kind of larger store room for mainly alchemical ingredients. Bottled,pickled, and crystalized things lurked ominous in the darkened lighting of the room. Upon seeing that there was no other exit, or apparent purpose in this room, he left. Deciding to explore other doors, he backtracked through the hall to the main entryway. Since the first one was kind of a bust, he would attempt the others in a methodical fashion. He moved to the next door, giving it a suspicion once over. Seeing nothing wrong with it, he opened the door with a surgical gingerness. To his surprise, nothing happened. Filled with confidence and release, he strode into the hall beyond. This, apparently, was a mistake as a stone spike sprung from the lower side of the walls, spearing Jaune in his thigh. Searing, sharp wet pain sent shocks as the muscles convulsed and contracted around the sudden protrusion. He kneeled over sideways, collapsing against the wall as he wrenched his leg out from the trap.

"FUCK!" He spat, gasping. His vision was filled with dots as pain receptors fired off signals. Warning. Warning. Bleeding in the leg. Warning. Warning. Unusual protrusion in the lg. Warning. Warning. was how Jaune personified them. He touched the hole in his leg, quickly retracting at how much it stung. Taking deep breaths, the dreamer brought himself back into focus. Right. He thought to himself. First thing first, patch up, stop bleeding. Jaune looked down at his sparkly shiny stardust ichor.

"Well, at least my blood remains gay. I always knew I was special" The joke did not land as well as he had hoped. He signed as he lit his hand on fire. It was a little horrific, cauterizing wounds in such an old fashioned way, but he found that his healing spells knit him back together faster when there wasn't a bunch of blood cells for the magic to target. He was pretty sure that chunks of the magic would target the lost cells and be washed away. He wasn't fully convinced though, and would accept that the world just wanted to cause him further pain as an acceptable answer. Short, rapid hisses escaped his lips as he burned away the augmented flesh, the strong scent of iron and vinegar. After that was done he switched spells to something a little less violent. Once he felt that his limbs were significantly put together again, he decided to take on a different approach to moving forward. Taking out one of his spears, he went around tapping it on the ground and walls to trigger anything that might try and kill him. Schling! Another set of bars activated from the side. Jaune stepped over them, and continued to slowly make his way down the hall. It went pretty well, at least pretty for Jaune. He only burned his eyebrows off from a well hidden rune behind a corner, got some acid burns that ate away a decent chunk of armor, and got teleported several times to the tower's dungeon among other things. He didn't even know this place had a dungeon. How quant.

Much to his surprise, there wasn't anything down there that was trying to kill him. Sure, the door that led to the tower proper was trapped because of course it was, but there wasn't any enchanted Golems to smash his brains in, no sewer dwelling basilisks or snails to spit acid at him. If it wasn't for the dank, musky smell it would have been kind of enjoyable. Getting lost half a dozen times sucked though. He did end up making it to the area he was at previously, or at least he thought it was. A similarly long hallway, with Jaune entering from a door along it's side. It was frankly much like the rest of the tower, sided with expensive cloth and rooms with little value for the most part. At least it ended with a room of particular value: A huge library, spiraling up a seemingly endless tower lined with tomes and books. Jaune's eyebrows rose, his face stretching into one of surprised merriment. A full wealth of information and literature for his consumption. They also seemed to be a bit better preserved than most of the books he had found in the Dream.

Well look at us, regular Indiana Jones over here. A beamed at their historic find. Sure, Jaune had found libraries and personal collections before, but most of those had vast amounts of damage, decay, and decrypt dream growth on them. This library was basically pristinely preserved. He spent some insurmountable amount of time perusing the library. He dredged many glimpses of knowledge that most would consider in the forbidden category. The gross alterations of flesh, perversion of the human body, mind and soul, and worse things that Jaune wished he could scrub from his mind. "Why would anyone write this?" He said out loud after reading a paragraph of more disturbing than usual knowledge. He gazed into the middle distance not really focused on anything as he processed exactly what he had just had the unfortunate luck of reading. He closed the book. That was enough forbidden knowledge today, thank you very much. The book was returned, and Jaune moved up a level. There were other things that he found in other books. Spells in fields of magic he had not touched. Abjuration, Necromancy, and a further understanding of Evocation. Along with areas of more general study that Jaune read up on. There was a fantastic selection in the upper floors on rhetoric and language. But eventually he made it up to the top, where an graciously ornate door rested. Jaune tilted his head at the door. It was heavily enchanted, as apparently everything here had to be trapped in some form. He poked it with what was left of his spear, as most of it had been consumed by the various traps, wards, and enchantments he had triggered with it. The door didn't seem to react to the experimental contact, but Jaune had more than his fair share of magically healed bumps and burns from traps not set to mere contact. Closing his eyes, he redirected the webbing around a metaphysical space around the hardwood flooring. Following the strands of the everpresent mana woven in an iridescent rhythmic pattern of tangles and knots warped its way into an almost legible wrapping of patterns that made up magical enchantments. It spiraled and twisted around the frame that was set for it, a tightly bound bundle of cords that, like a spider with it's many legs, stuck out flows of mana at odd angles and degrees was wrapped around the latches of the door. He was assuming that it was that particular bundle was the equivalent of an activation trigger. Looking to the rest of the enchantment matrix he gave it a scrutinizing inspection, looking for anything that could be indicative of what the spell could be. It didn't seem to be one that teleported whatever touched it to the middle of the dungeon. Kneeling down at the knot of his focus, Jaune began trying to pick it apart. Using his limited knowledge he began to pull at the tangle's legs and implementing his own stabilizing and destructive threads. It was going pretty well in the Dreamers opinion up until a thread he wrote into existence was apparently the wrong thing to do. A pulse emanated from the activation port, and Jaune had one thing run through his mind:

Fuck. he thought to himself as instinct kicked in, flinging himself down backwards as the enchantment trigger. A beam of blinding light shot forward through the hall as Jaune landed on his back. Blinking the spots out of his eyes, there was a brief moment when he thought he was safe. Of course something had to come along to ruin that innocent presumption. That something in question was a sudden stinging wetness just under his knee. Pulling himself up with a sigh, he sat there on the floor looking at his leg. Or, at least, what was left of his leg. Everything a couple inches below the knee had been cleanly removed, likely dispersed into the air via disintegration. It was bleeding stardust profusely onto the ground, which quickly began to turn black and solidify in a similar manner to molten rock. The dreamer let out a sign, slouching over as the air left his lungs.

Well, at least it would be a pretty painless way to go. He thought, looking on the rare bright side of things. So far absolutely in the top ten ways to die.

A raised an eyebrow at his host. I was unaware we had a list? What's the ranking on it right now?

Jaune made a teetering motion with his hands. "Well, it's less of a list and moreso a general consensus of my remaining mental facilities on what constitutes as a good way to go. So far we have getting stabbed in the base of your skull up there in the top 3-"

That's great, and overly morbid, Jaune. B decided to put in his two cents. Which turned out to be a brief realignment of the issue at hand. But we should probably try to stop the bleeding hole in our leg.

Jaune gave his newly created weeping orifice another look, watching it slowly start to clog as the dust blood solidified. Well, ain't that damn convenient? I'm self repairing now.

I think self cauterizing would be more appropriate. B suggested. Jaune shrugged, not really caring about the specifics. Reaching into his inventory, he pulled out several wooden shafts and planks. Jury rigging himself a peg leg to stand on, it was a little shaky at first. He would get used to it. Making his way over to the door, inspecting it once more to make sure he wasn't going to get the rest of him vaporized. Seeing that the meddling he had done beforehand had caused some kind of clog in the system, he opened the door. He was not vaporized, much to his good fortune.

The area beyond was surprisingly dark. There was no artificial light here provided by torches or magic here, and dust lingered in the air like October mist. The door shut behind him on its own accord. If jaune was anyone else, he might have been spooked. But Jaune was a callous, jaded, cranky, crinkly tough bastard at this point and met the sound with an exasperated sigh. He spiraled a mote of light into existence with a mutter of prayer. The pyramidal glow floated lazily next to him as he went deeper into the dark. It cast an unnatural harsh light, making things in stunningly clear detail out for only a couple of feet. Anylight beyond that was rapidly consumed by the darkness. Treading carefully, rhythmically tapping with another length of polearm, he avoided whatever traps that might have been there. He suspected that there were not any, but if he missed one he wasn't going to start complaining. Eventually after wandering down a hall, up a hall, and through several flights of stairs, he came to a room that he would classify as a laboratory. It really was several medieval coolers and a kind of clean desk in a relatively empty room. The ceiling was tall, so tall that the actual material that made up the ceiling (probably some form of tiled stonework, just as the rest of this place's ceilings were made up of) couldn't be illuminated by the meager mote of light Jaune had. Jaune approached the only interesting thing in the lab, being the desk. There were a couple things worth looking though, including a large bulletin backer board behind it that had a myriad of notes, fleshy looking designs and scattered reminders populated across it like a disease heat map. The dreamer gave them a quick glance over the bulletin board. There was a continental scaled map with several pins over various locations, most of them in the western areas. That appeared to be mostly desert or flat lands, judging by the lack of non city landmarks and pin-dot shading. There was one in the Eternal city though, which warranted investigation.

Just another thing for the checklist, he supposed. Scouring through the desk, he found a small pocket journal with bits of scrap paper sticking out at odd angles that looked promising. Flipping through it, he came to the first page. It appeared to be a letter, designated to someone.

The Dreamer was taken aback a little, as usually letters were ripped out and mailed. I wonder if this is more of a rhetorical letter? Maybe a draft? He thought as he cleared his throat

"My most esteemed Colleague

I have returned from the western … I think that says Grainlands." Jaune read out loud, translating from the native dwarvish it was written in. "With my samples in tow. To think after all these years, I would not only find one, but manage to bring a piece of it back with me! It's truely a marvel, what I found. I wanted it to be fresh, so I made sure to bring ice and proper movement this time. I learned my lesson with my last mission, and I will not be making the same mistake! I was fortunate that the ichor? Was stable enough to be somewhat usable. But now I have the pure deal, the best result of my research. I will try to start the, uh, erm, I am going to guess Replication? Could either be fermentation or growth as well…" The Dreamer trailed off, scratching the back of his head as he thought on the word. It was hard to make out meaning sometimes, particularly when it came with on the spot translations of dead languages. Forging on, Jaune continued. "I hope, no, I know that this trail will prove much more useful than my previous attempt. Oh, the harrowing journey I have faced to get this! The grainlands are a harsh place, wrought with dangerous outsiders and their even more dangerous pets. But it was worth it, for my eyes saw all." Jaune paused to take in a breath, scanning the rest of the letter, and seeing that it was mostly a continuation of his exploits in these western grainlands, Jaune turned the page. This was a list of experiment results or notes on progress of an experiment.

"001: Womb seems to be sustainable on the apparatus, showing no signs of major degradation. Womb? What the fuck is he on about?" Jaune wondered, his brow furrowing. "Ooh, this is the thing he brought from the grainlands"

"Continuing on, 002: Cells from sample 1 introduced, no growth noticed.

003: No growth has been noticed, but the cells remain alive. Added nutrient percent to apparatus slurry.

004: Growth finally noticed. I am assuming that the additional nutrients are responsible. Womb remains stable, but additional apparatus attachments will be required.

005: get more ice.

006: Formation of initial embryo sighted. Held off attachments until the embryo becomes more stable.

007: womb quality degrading. Ice applied, but only slightly slowed decay rate. Apparatus attachments added

008: Initial Embryo lost. Cells from sample 1 reintroduced.

009: Cells rejected from the womb. Womb has returned to being stable, but is consuming increased amounts of ice.

010: Cells from sample 1 reintroduced.

011: Cells not yet rejected, but no growth has been noticed. Replaced cooling jacket.

012: Cells rejected again. New sample to be used in the future. Cells from sample two added.

013: Growth noticed, along with no signs of rejection yet.

014: Continued growth, but no actual embryo yet. promising, but have another sample on standby. " He took a breath in, and held it as the hairs on the back of his head stood on end. The dreamer frowned, looking up to scan the dark room for any sign of danger. A quick burst of magic revealed that nothing was there. Shrugging the paranoia away, he continued to read.

"015: Embryo detected. More ice is needed.

016: Embryo continues to grow, altered Nutrient Slurry composition slightly to reflect.

017: Embryo continues to grow, and is now-" Jaune stopped, his head cocking. He could have sworn he heard something. He gave another glance around, this time shooting a bolt of flame to light up the room a little more. It was woefully ineffective, only shedding a meager amount of light before it was extingushed. Still nothing. He shook his head.

"And is now likely sturdy enough to resist minor turbulence.

018" he continued, thinking that he might want to stop reading out loud. Eh, if he was in danger right now for it, he probably wasn't going to stop being in danger if he shut up. "No progress.

019: no progress

020: again, no progress. Perhaps something is missing?

021:-" Jaune stopped again, knowing that he wasn't alone. Previously, he was suspicious, but now he was certain. He pocketed the book into his inventory, turning his head to look around. Stepping away from the desk, he moved through the darkness. The desk disappeared from sight as Jaune walked through a seemingly endless abyss of pitch black. He marched onward, only a single glance behind him.

There was little more than his footsteps through the large room. And by little more, he ment there was absolutely nothing. Not a single sound besides the echo of his own shoes across the hardwood paving. Which was off putting for the Dreamer, considering that it had been at least a week since he had even heard his own footfall.

Kcrck

Jaune stopped, really noticing the chill in the air now. He listened, silent as both the grave and the complete quiet he had submerged himself in. But the quiet was not quite as complete as he thought, and he was not as alone as he had hoped. Boldly, he took another step forward, carefully making sure that his armored foot would make as little noise as he could manage. He paused once more, listening intently for any sign of another sound.

There were none.

Jaune continued in this fashion for some time, small step after small step, making his way forward inch by inch as he methodically stopped, listened, and continued. Time and time again, there was nothing to indicate that he wasn't alone in this lightless room.

Hell, maybe i did make up that sound. He thought to himself after step number… eh, didn't matter. Step number whatever the fuck. I guess I just might be a little too paranoid.

B scoffed at the idea. Too paranoid? Never.

Eventually he ran into a wall with his process. That wall being a quite literal wall. The sight of something actually ahead of him stunned him a little. Looking to his left and his right, he was faced with a decision.

Now, if only I could remember which way the exit was… he thought to himself, musing on the direction of which he entered.

He decided to go to the right. Following the wall, he found out quickly that it had a slight curve to it. So, assuming his assumptions were correct, he should end up at the entrance he entered eventually. He paced along the wall, keeping his left hand on it to act as a kind of guide. Step by step he made his way through the inky blackness. This darkness was going to give him a headache if it continued like this. That or he was simply getting tired of the seemingly impenetrable darkness

Krtchk.

There it was again. That sound. Now that Jaune heard it again, he could start trying to place it to an imaginary source. It was short, and staccato. Like a sound snippet of someone scratching their nails on a chalkboard.

Krccckch

Yeah, just like that, but shorter. The sound was the only thing that seemed to break the silence in any true fashion, and it only made to worsen the Dreamers growing headache. He was absolutely sure it was a headache, which was odd. He wondered if he could get sick in the Dream. He hadn't yet, and lord knows he should be incredibly malnourished if he obeyed the usual laws of mammalian thermodynamics.

Krrckt

Jaune nodded. Yup, exactly like that. He thought to himself, pushing down the concern that it was getting closer from a non discernable direction. He gave a quick spin on his heels, just to try and take a look.

Well, that's a damn shame. He thought to himself as he continued on. He gave a brief rub at his temples.

Crkkst

Jaune wondered what could be making that sound. It didn't sound promising at all. In fact, it sounded rather promising, just the promise was pain. Nothing but pain.

Kckrckt

There it was again.

Crkkct

And again. Was it getting closer? Jaune squinted his eyes, his headache building slightly

Ksskrt

Crckrkt.

Jaune nodded. Yup was definitely getting closer to him. He wondered how close it was, whatever it was-

There was a sharp, sudden punch-like sensation in his chest. Looking down at the section in question, he saw that a large bone-like spur had been shot through him, ripping open his ribs, spouting blood onto the floor. It felt like he was drowining, his check becoming heavy and feeling rather bloated

Ah. A said, a little disappointed. This? This is the great treason of the artist. He said sadly, shaking his head. Jaune raised an eyebrow with his few moments left.

What? Being stabbed? Jaune asked, starting to gurgle up blood. He payed it no mind. It wasn't anything new, after all.

A shook his head. No. The refusal to admit the banality of evil and the boredom of pain.

Really? B asked his counterpart. We're dying and you want to wax poetic?

No better place to wax poetic! A argued as Jaune slumped forward, his brain failing to reach oxygen and his mouth failing to draw in air. The best moment is exactly when you are dying!

And, for the next largest uncountable integer, Jaune died.

And that's another chapter done! no real notes today, I kind of want to get on with the last couple scenes of the first mission arc, and I want to build this a little more.

I apologize if the chapters not quite on par with everything else, I've been having the hardest time writing recently. maybe I just need to get to the scenes I want to really write, or take a step and write something else, put out some oneshots. Eh, I'll get back in the groove anyway. A story of this magnitude is pretty daunting.

See you around, and feel free to leave a comment!