Beyond the Vayle

Strange Faces

Wind blew through the autumn forest, chilling Gill to his bones. The young, sickly man was desperately trying to reach where he had hidden his prize. Stumbling over roots and vines Gill wondered if even the forest was attempting to halt his efforts. A cough wracked his body and he was forced to pause, leaning against a nearby oak and pulling his cloak tighter around himself. His home, Halto, was miles behind him and he knew that if he did not reach his destination then the cold of the night would surely kill him. Bracing against the chill he lurched forwards, stumbling against the trees and mentally chastising the setting sun. It was unfair that even nature was so against his wishes that it bit and clawed at his advancements every step of the way.

The shadows of trees began to lengthen filling the wood with darkness. Gill pushed onwards, knowing he neared his goal. All the cold in Lasham could not stop him now. He finally emerged in a clearing of yellowed, dead grass. A single mound of dirt protruded from the center of this clearing, and Gill smiled a feeble smile, his breath forming a cloud around his hooded face. He hobbled to where he had buried his precious possession and began digging with his bare hands. The recently disturbed loam proved little obstacle, even in this chill. Soon his frail fingers grasped his prize: A helm. He dug it from its hiding place and brushed the dirt off as best he could. It was a wicked thing, this helm. Made from some strange metal, it was black in color with golden bands wrapping around it. A similarly gold "A" was emblazoned upside down on the front with the thickest band wrapping around the crown. Gill donned the helm carefully. The chill of the cold metal nipped his ears, and his eyes watered. He knew the pain was temporary, yet still did it sting. He doubled, as a second coughing fit tore through his body, leaving him lying in the dirt, this strange helm seeming so out of place atop his head. Once the fit had subsided the young man gritted his teeth and clenched his eyes shut in concentration. Light around his prone form appeared to twist inwards, warping the landscape. Then suddenly he was gone, and the chill wind beat itself, angrily, against the trees and the ground that had, until recently, held Gill's vulnerable form.

The warmth of the fire woke Gill from his unrestful slumber. He seemed to have fainted during his travel. He sat up, cautiously looking around. The warm wooden floor of the room seeped into his clothes, thawing him. His gaunt appearance was covered in flickering shadows from a humble fire, some feet away from him. A small oval carpet was just behind him, resting beneath a large and expensive looking sofa. To his right a closed window kept the frosted air at bay, and to his left a door led out of the room to who-knows-where. Small candles were lit to replicate the illusion of light that the fire gave off. The ceiling above was high, but not so high that Gill could have stretched to touch it if he was standing. The pale man slowly removed his cloak, letting the fire soak his woolen clothes. Remembering how he had arrived in this strange place, he also removed the helm, setting it besides him. For a long while he simply basked in the warmth, letting it dispel the cold from his bones.

An unknown amount of time had passed before Gill once more felt his eyes open. A coughing fit wracked his lungs, as though his own body rebelled against the act of waking. When it had subsided Gill found himself hunched over the floor, partially lying down and partially sitting. When he recovered, his hand swept across his lower jaw, wiping saliva from his mouth. He grimaced and sat up onto one knee. A new figure sat behind Gill, on the elegant sofa. Their legs were crossed, and they appeared to be sipping from a plain mug.

"You made it. I confess, I had my doubts." The figure sat up a bit straighter, their voice silky smooth, allowing Gill to see the red and gold embroidery along their jacket, illuminated ominously in the light of the still-lit fire. The figure's face was concealed by the hood of their jacket.

"It wasn't easy. My body continues to fail me." The young man rasped. He could almost feel the figure smirk.

"Yes well," They reclined on the sofa, sipping once again from their mug. "That should not trouble you much longer. My master has such plans for one so ambitious as yourself." Gill's eyes narrowed at this. He had heard tales of a being that seemed to revel in trickery, the very same 'master' that this figure referred to. A thing known for its iconic grin that seemed to stretch forever. Or so he had heard, for too little was truly known of this being, but if it meant Gill could save his body and become a powerful mage...

"And when will I meet this oh-so-mysterious 'master' of yours?" He grimaced in slight discomfort and rose to both feet. This did nothing to change the strange feeling that this figure sat on the sofa was LOOMING over him.

"Oh it's unlikely you ever shall. He is... dificult to track down. Come, let us begin this process posthaste. Bring your helm." The figure stood, a full head above the thin Gill, and turned to leave through that solitary exit. Waiting a moment in hesitation, before following with the helm, Gill inhaled deeply. This tempted another attack, but the young man would need his composure for whatever trials this mysterious man held in store. Luckily no such cough assaulted him. The wooden and stone building that Gill found himself was larger than he had initially believed. Winding corridors, with scant light, twisted and turned. So many side passages and locked doors stood sentinel on both sides that Gill lost their count and, eventually, all sense of direction. The pair encountered no other living being and scant light on their trek through this fascinating structure.

It seemed like a veritable age before the red and gold clad figure stopped Gill before a door that looked as innocuous as the rest. He held out a hand and bowed, possibly in a mocking manner.

"Here is where your new life shall begin. A new name, shall you take. A new visage. All that you desire and more. Enter." The door creaked open, seemingly of its own accord. As Gill collected his thoughts and entered into the unyielding dark of the awaiting room he could have sworn he saw a bone white smile peeking from beneath the strange man's hood. He stepped into the darkness and reflected on his own, short life of being a farmhand. Gone were the days of ridicule as he studied the written word. Gone were his families disdain for his disinterest in the mundane. Gill would be known throughout the world as one of the greatest mages to ever live! He closed his eyes and allowed a small smile, imagining their faces when he returned as a powerful magic user. When he opened them, he recoiled in horror.

No longer was the darkness absolute. A faint light, from an unknown source illuminated the cold and unfeeling cobbles beneath his feet. Now shown in stark clarity were the stones, covered in slick sludge, that made up the walls. Gone was the door through which he had entered. Gone was the man in red. Before him lay a massive rotting skull of bone and dead flesh. Sharpened teeth from a mouth that seem too large for such a skull. A singular eye socket lay empty in the upper half of the head. The stench finally reached Gill and he wrinkled his nose, his face plastered with confusion and distress. He clutched his precious helm tighter.

"What is this trickery, you..." Gill's voice faded as he realised he did not know the figure's name. Though he had met him multiple times in town he had never learned the man's name. It began to dawn upon the sickly man that he may have been duped, and now he was to lie here in the cell with the strange mishappen and stench-wridden skull before him. "Explain yourself!" he cried out, hoping the man could still hear him. A deep rumbling voice answered in his stead.

"You shall soon... know more than you could currently comprehend, little man-thing." Gill whirled to find the source of the voice, but there was nothing. Noone.

"Who is there?" He demanded, fright apparent in his eyes.

"The will... of the Vayle... is now the will... of your own." The voice seemed to reverberate throughout the chamber, making Gill's chest vibrate. When he turned to view the skull, the things that he saw he could not explain. The skull was floating in mid-air, a single red light emanating from the eyesocket. "You belong... to ME." The voice boomed once more. A strange smoke seemed to envelope the room and a sharp pain wracked through Gill's entire body. He writhed and screamed as the pain grew in intensity, dropping his helm. He felt a coughing fit coming on as well, but it simply could not compare to the current assault on his body. "Shed your mortal flesh... and rise... Not as some pathetic man-thing... but as Golgutan!" Gill's mind was giving out on him, so intense was the pain. Strange feelings accompanied the pain, he felt bones crack and reform under his skin. The red light within the floating skull was now all that Gill could percieve.

"Wauuuggghhh...!" He warbled helplessely, crumpling to the ground. His cheek met cold stone, yet still his vision was filled with that all-consuming red light. The pain become too much to bear and, finally, his vision gave out. No more was Gill a part of that world.