Vlindrel:The Treacherous Dark of the Pyxis

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Tate is woken by a woman's calm voice.
Morganstern: ...There was a time when I had the power to hold back the looming death of this entire world... It's sitting at the edge of Tate's bed, and isn't wearing any clothing, it's body clean and polished to a dark chrome-like finish. Tate can see its head, which looks like a spherical hollow cage, made of elegantly sweeping bands of reflective black metal. There is no face on it, only a pale blue floating iris made of light hovering in front of it. The rest of its body looks similar, a twisting filigree of long and elegant sweeping bands of metal in the shape of a long humanoid form. In the center of its chest is a vaguely heart-shaped light, pulsing with blue power that sends out dim lines of magic through the core of its body and limbs. It looks like an overly ornate construct, or a golem, rather than a living creature that was ever human.
Tate: As he opens his eyes he sits up and scoots back against the headboard and murmurs to himself. What the hell? He doesn't recognize Morganstern at first, but quickly realizes who the thing sitting at the foot of his bed is.
Morganstern: ...There was a time when I fought against the legions of Precambrian Demon-Kings... And I bathed them in shining celestial miasma, pulled forth from the aether of creation itself... Its pupil shrinks as it stares down at the floor, remembering the events play out.
Tate: He tilts his head and looks the metal witch up and down, unsure why Morganstern is acting this way.
Morganstern: I've borne witness to things that few others would ever even know of... A conflagration of souls as they burned the hands of primordial gods... Listening to the resonating wails of the eldritch truth as they wept at the passing of time... Smelling the entropic ash of angel wings as their vessels failed them in the face of God's wrath... I have beheld the deaths of stars and watched with blind eyes as they bore power immeasurable across the cosmic divide...
Tate: He narrows his eyes a little at Morganstern. I get it... You're kinda a big deal...?
Morganstern: Only... Are these only my memories? It raises its hand and looks upon it, the long black fingers twitching slightly. ...Or are all of these countless aeons just a lingering blight upon a mind that never even lived them...? Great durations of time and space... Twisted up inside this ancient alloy of my mind and body... A weaving of delusion, set against my intentions... Have I accomplished anything? Or am I the sum of the incalculable superiors that I've made myself of? Ten-thousand life times of knowledge and talent... Is any of it mine?
Tate: He looks to Loki, the little guy is poking his head out from under some of the pillows, and looks to Tate, afterwards both of them look back to Morganstern. Are you alright? Is there something... Wrong?
Morganstern: Look upon me... It lifts its arm up and the joints in it creak and twang loudly, and Tate can see the filigree that holds it together has been twisted and broken, barely holding as hastily welded parts creak and groan. I am so much more, and yet I am mangled... In both body and mind... By a pair of things so simple... I need clarity... For the creature has muddled me by a cloud of dementia... Or is it my own corrosive psychosis of thoughts that are slowly driving me to this state? Have I been wasting away, unaware that I am doomed to mindlessness? ...I refuse to die this slow, silent death.
Tate: He notices that despite Morganstern's cleaned and polished body, its arms are barely holding together. ...Did something happen to you? ...Or something?
Morganstern: A pair of demons assaulted the estate last night... And I had barely the slightest clarity of mind with which to banish them back from whence they came... Let alone the capacity to even vanquish them... It lowers its arm and turns its head to look at Tate. They did this to me... It quickly stands up. ...They were here because of you. Morganstern's voice turns to the old man's. That little demon spawn was here to gain audience with you! It's melancholy tone of scattered thoughts vanishes almost immediately, replaced with a focused rage.
Tate: His eyes go wide and he reaches under his pillow, Loki jumping up onto his back as he does, and pulls out his chakram. He instantly Flickers out of bed and turns to fire a stream of Brine at Morganstern.
Morganstern: It yells out in several voices at once. You broUGhT the DEmonS hERE! It turns, knowing where Tate is going to appear and a pinkish bolt of electricity flies from its fingertip, splitting down the stream of salt water and exploding as it collides with the Chakram. The flesh on Tate's hand and forearm explodes away from the bone in a pastey red mist. Morganstern's voice turns to the harsh old woman's it spoke in during part of its fight with the demons. I should've known that's what called them here. It takes a step towards the witch-boy, it's arm sparking with pink magical energy as the broken parks arc with the lingering power of the spell. You are the cause of my state!
Tate: He stares up at her for a moment, stunned, then looks down to what's left of his right arm. He lets out a quiet whimper, and then screams as the pain tears through his shoulder and back.
Morganstern: It looks to the Chakram, and in a smoldering tone of anger says a name in realization. ...Barlowe... The Chakram flies from the spot it landed and comes to a stop, floating between Morganstern's hands. I had forgotten all about him. It looks to Tate and its old voice fills with a tone of disdain. ...Still moldering in the game master's hall... The chakram begins to rotate quickly, and a vortex of prismatic energy begins to appear in the center of it as Morganstern christens it with some sort of powerful spell. Perhaps I will pay that old fool a visit once I'm done with you. The chakram is launched from its spot so quickly that it appears sticking into the wall behind Tate, and spherical blast of light explodes outwards from it that burns the wall to cracked charcoal. A fraction of a second afterwards the momentum of the attack catches up with it, and Tate's upper half of his body is blasted upwards into the air from his lowerhalf as his legs are left to stand on their own. After a slight delay prismatic-white energy races up from the divide in the two halves of his body and consumes him and Loki in beautiful sparkling light, disentrigrating them entirely.
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A few seconds later, at the Aurelion Bonfire...
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Tate bursts from the bonfire in the portal hall, crawling forth in a shower of orange embers.
Tate: He gasps for air, and quickly rolls onto his back and grabs at his legs. Loki? Loki runs around him and squeaks several times, trying to get Tate to his feet.
Morganstern: Already standing over Tate it speaks down at him in a stern matter. I have been patient with you, my young apprentice, but my patience ends with the treachery of demons. It points down to him and a growing sphere of black energy appears hovering just above the small bonfire. You are henceforth stripped of your apprenticeship to Aurelion! A blast of red energy fires from its fingertip and hits Tate, exploding, instantly killing him again. As the bonfire crackles and bursts, and he comes tumbling out of it, his once pristine initiate's garb is now gone, replaced by the ragged hoodie and jeans that he arrived in three days earlier. And I banish you to the Pyxis... I can't have you running around summoning anymore hellspawn whilst I reconstitute myself... The growing black orb above the bonfire suddenly collapses in on itself, and Tate , Loki, and even the bonfire are sucked into it. As the microscopic blackhole vanishes, Morganstern tilts its head as its eye flickers for a moment, and sparks of magic flash from its arms as a long white and black dress appears over its body. Perhaps some time there will also teach you some respect...
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Some time later, in a deep dark place far from Aurelion...
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Tate: Loki smacks him in the face several times before he opens his eyes and wakes up. ...The fuck happened? His head is aching as he sits up and grabs the sides of it, realizing that he's clothed in his raggedy hoodie and torn up jeans again. After a moment flashes of Morganstern's strange metal form glaring down at him hit him. ...Right... That happened...
Tate's surroundings are exceptionally dark, lit only by a cluster of small candles floating in the air above him. In the center of the lit area is a small pedestal made of bricks, a basin of water sitting on it. In the darkness around him he can hear something moving, a pitter-patter of quick small feet, following by a sniffing sound. A pair of glowing red eyes suddenly peer from the darkness, and several more appear around them.
Barlowe: He's leaning up against the pedestal, his weak gravelly voice responding to Tate. This is called the Pyxis... He wheezes loudly and pulls himself to look over at Tate. He looks like he's seen better days, with his robes being singed in spots and torn to shreds at the bottom. His beard looks black and frizzled, sticking out in straight lines from his face, like he's a cartoon that's been struck by lightning.
Tate: Backs away from the glowing red eyes until he hits the pedestal at the center of the illuminated area. Barlowe? That you? He watches the red eyes intently.
Barlowe: It is indeed. He coughs quietly.
Tate: The hell are those things? 
Barlow: They are harmless so long as we stay within the candlelight. He turns his head to look at the creatures in the dark, their red eyes suddenly going out one pair at a time, followed by the sounds of them pacing in the darkness around them. They're ancient witches that have given into an even more ancient evil, and as such they are more beast now than man... He lets out a tired breath. At Aurelion we called them "Anti-Men", though they have an odd name in their own black tongue. Mind you, their animistic traits do not undermine their cunning and intelligence. The things find their way up through the chasms that bridge each world, seeking out young witches like yourself, so that they can corrupt them and make of them their kin. He coughs loudly. ...But as I said, they cannot harm us so long as we stay under the light of the warding candles.
Tate: ...They're yee naaldlooshii... He says it without the accent like how Ahiga and Manny have said it in the past. Skinwalkers... He pushes himself up against the pedestal.
Barlowe: Yes... He says in in solemn realization. Yes I believe that's what they call themselves... He tries to fix his beard, but the wiry hairs don't move much. ...How did you know this?
Tate: One crawled up through the sinkhole between our houses and attacked us. It wanted to drag us down to a place called Xiabalba and turn us into Skinwalkers, just like what you said. If they're half as powerful as that thing we're in deep shit...
Barlowe: He he nods. I see... Then they can even make their way up into your world as well... Fortunately these are trifling things... I sense no great power from them. He looks out into the dark. But I fear that they are still more than we could handle in our current predicament.
Tate: Why are there so many down here? He keeps his eyes on the dark.
Barlowe: If I were to take a guess, it would be that these are too weak to pass through to another world.
Tate: But if one attacked us last year... It might've come through here... He looks around at the dark and gulps a little. ...Which means there's probably a way out, somewhere out there... In the dark... Wait, can't I just... Kill myself? Then I'll respawn at the bonfire, right? He looks over at Barlowe.
Barlowe: The firelink has a maximum distance... Like chains, pulled too far... Once the length runs out, the link snaps, and you must make a new link to another flame... Suffice it to say, I wouldn't risk death down here until you're sure of finding another flame, young Tate. He shakes his head a little. While we are in the Pyxis, we are far from Aurelion... It is possible there are no bonfires down here at all...
Tate: Well that's fucking stupid... That's not like how it works in... He looks over at Barlowe. Nevermind... I guess I can't expect everything to be exactly the same as some stupid game... He looks out at the darkness, wary of what might be hiding in it. After a long moment he tries to think of something else. So, uh, did Morganstern send you down here too? What happened? He looks Barlowe over.
Barlowe: The thing paid me a visit, yes. It was only a matter of time before I was found out. I did my best to hold the creature off, but it proved too powerful, even in its damaged state I was sent here just the same... He coughs several times. A good thing it did banish me here, as this is no place for a young man such as yourself to be left alone without aid. He takes a long wheezing breath. Without his wheel chair he can barely even move. ...Even if your aid is nothing but an old cripple like me.
Tate: Are you going to be alright? He looks to the basin of water, narrowing his eyes at it for a moment and then looking around, trying to figure out if there's anything he can do with it. Loki runs over to Barlowe and sniffs at him a few times.
Barlowe: I'm none worse off than I was previously. He tries to sit up straight, but struggles without use of his legs, and his arms are quite weak with age. Was always curious what resided in the Pyxis... What it looked like... I suppose that now I know... It is nothing but darkness and all the things that want to eat us.
Tate: Yeah... He stands up and grabs Barlowe under the arms, helping him to sit upright. So what the hell is this place anyway?
Barlowe: No one really knows for certain...He looks up at the candles, burning in a dull light. But, when someone, especially a witch, wants to be rid of something for good, they send it here... Some have said that the Pyxis is an oversized rubbish-bin... He looks out into the darkness. Though I don't know exactly where we are, if this place if even part of the same realm... As Aurelion... Or even Vlindrel itself... I suspect that it is not.
Tate: He turns and looks around. So how the hell do we get passed the skinwalkers? He looks up to the candles floating above them. Can I take one of those candles and walk around in the dark safely?
Barlowe: He looks out into the darkness. I wouldn't risk it until we've considered other options... The candles maybe magic, but if anything snuffs the flame you would be in a considerable predicament, moreso even that you can't afford them flame.
Tate: He looks to Barlowe. Hunter left me a lighter! He quickly pats his pockets and then rolls his eyes, getting a flash of feeling himself getting cut in half again. He shakes the vision off. Fuck... It was in my other pants pocket... The ones that've been disentigrated...
Barlowe: He clears his throat. Well then I don't think it'd be wise for you to run off into that dark. Undesirable things have been tossed down here for ages, no telling what's out there. Starving anti-men are one matter, but stumbling across some abyssal horror is another thing entirely.
Tate: So we're just going to wait here... In the middle of literal nowhere... Doing nothing... He sighs and sits down at the end of the pedestal.
Barlowe: You'd be surprised what someone can do with a little bit of purpose and a great deal of time... He wheezes a little. ...Mayhap you call on that demon beastie once more? Perhaps I could barter with it to get us out of this place...
Tate: My friend sent it, I can't summon it. He shakes his head. I'm not even sure how he sent it... He narrows his eyes. ...At least he knows I'm alive... He looks around at the darkness. Well, was alive, until we starve... You're some powerful "chess master two-thousand", can't you summon something or something?
Barlowe: Let me think a moment... He lets out a long wheezing sigh. ...There is something I could conjure, and though it could get us some distance, without knowing where we're going it'd likely be a wasted effort, and then we'd be stranded once my power runs dry... Far from the candlelight... Better to wait and find a better solution than go charging off... I've little mana left and wasting it would be foolish.
Tate: He rolls his eyes and then keeps an eye on the darkness. After a long pause of silence he speaks quietly, in a somber tone. This reminds me of that night, when the skinwalker was outside my house... It was dark like this... The skinwalkers really help to sell it too...
Barlowe: How is it that you overcame such a foe?
Tate: A giant lightning bird showed up and tag-teamed the fucker down with my sister's familiar, Lucifer.
Barlowe: Your sister's familiar was the devil himself? He turns and opens one eye, looking at Tate with a raised eyebrow.
Tate: He shakes his head and rolls his eyes. No she just... Thought it was a cool name I guess, I dunno. He shrugs and looks at Loki. Loki has moved nearer to the edge of the light and is looking out into the dark, standing on his hind legs and on alert. ...Lucifer is crazy powerful... I wish she was here now but... I don't know where she ran off to after that...
Barlowe: Familiars without masters can be fickle things... Left to their own devices, they'll wander entire worlds. He wheezes again and then coughs heavily. No one really knows why they do the things they do when they aren't inclined to do what another wants them to.
Tate: ...I bet she could really burn these stupid skinwalkers down... Or at least find a way outta here... He looks to Loki with a quizzical expression. What? The little ferret looks at Tate and his fur turns pitch-black. You're not going out there. Loki lets out a high-pitched squeak of disagreement. No!
Barlowe: What's the little thing on about? He turns his head to look at Loki.
Tate: He says he senses something... He wants sneak out into the dark and look for a way out. He glares down at Loki sternly. But that's suicide.
Barlowe: Maybe not. He moves a little to turn his upper body to face their direction. 
Tate: He's my familiar I'll decide what's safe for him! He looks at Barlowe angrily.
Barlowe: He's a small, quick, little thing that can likely see better out there in the dark than we can. He looks from Loki's black fur to the dark. And he blends in with it rather well with that changing coat.
Tate: Skinwalkers can see in pitch-black nights. I know this from experience. We tried something like this before and we almost died last time. Loki lets out a growl and turns to look off into the dark. I don't care if I'm not as stealthy as you! When I tried it, it didn't work! Loki sticks his tongue out at Tate.
Barlowe: If we could distract the creatures sufficiently, he may have a shot at getting passed them. He coughs a little. After all, we can't be waiting down here forever...
Tate: Says the guy who was saying not twenty minutes ago that we should wait and have patience! He turns and looks at Barlowe.
Barlowe: I said we should wait for something better to present itself. He wheezes quietly and coughs a little. Familiars are clever things that can instinctively find the cracks between worlds and pass through them. If he senses a way out of here, he's likely right. He motions around with his hand, limply. It is a better solution than waiting here until we starve.
Tate: His stomach grumbles a little, as if on cue, and he rubs it lightly. I didn't eat breakfast. He sighs and looks at Loki.
Barlowe: If only I knew some kind of cloaking spell... Off the top of my head... He wheezes a little.
Tate: You're a billion years old and you don't know an invisibility spell!?
Barlowe: He shakes his head, rubbing the side of it. Closing his eyes as he thinks. Do I appear to be some kind of infiltration agent? He opens his eyes and looks to Tate.
Tate: He whispers, loudly. You're trying to tell me that invisa-fucking-bility wouldn't be useful in combat?
Barlowe: He shakes his head. You can argue against the practical application of spells in combat as much as you like, but I'm afraid I just don't know everything. He coughs several times. I'm an old, old, man. Without my books I can't just cite spells accurately...
Tate: I'm not sending my familiar off to die. End of conversation. We find another way. He turns and glares down at Loki. Loki glares back up at him then turns away and lays down, rolling into a little ball.
Barlowe: He lets out an annoyed gasp and closes his eyes, laying back. Very well. When you come up with a better idea, we can try that one. Until then, I am going to rest.
Tate: He shakes his head and sits down, leaning back against the pedestal. You don't get it, man. I've seen first hand what these things do. Just one of them ripped through all our livestock... Tore up the barns like they were paper towels... Killed my friend's grandpa with a stare... What do you think a bunch of them are doing to do?
Barlowe: I don't want to argue, my boy. The last thing we need is to be in conflict in a place like this... If you insist we find another way, then another way is what we will find. He coughs a little and then takes a deep breath. He strokes his frazzled beard for a moment, thinking quietly. After a few minutes he has an idea. What if I were to keep an eye on him?
Tate: He rolls his eyes. How?
Barlowe: I can use astral projection to stay near to him. I'll be able to travel undetected, passed the skinwalkers, and, if your familiar gets into trouble I can summon him back to us as quick as a flick of the wrist, as my physical body will still be here. He clears his throat. How does that sound? He turns his head to look to Tate.
Tate: Loki headbutts Tate's thigh and looks up at him, nodding a bunch of times. ...I don't know... He looks out into the dark, knowing that the skinwalkers could be standing just outside of the light, watching them silently. He gulps a little and takes a deep breath, as he does his stomach makes a quiet gurgling sound, he's getting pretty hungry. ...What if something takes him? Can you even fight back?
Barlowe: He wheezes a little. ...No... Not... There is a way, but I would need your assistance.
Tate: My assistance? He looks out into the dark for a moment, then back to Barlowe. The hell can I do? I don't even have my xena disc or my little notebook.
Barlowe: If you could transfer some of your mana to me, it would allow me to better empower my astral form. He coughs a little. Astral projection requires little of it, but the casting of spells without any sort of catalyst, requires an investment of mana.
Tate: So you want me to give you some of mine? I don't think I even have a lot to give. He looks back to the darkness. How would that work anyway?
Barlowe: Most witches have the same pool of power to siphon from inside of themselves. It's the fine-tuning of your powers that allows you to expend less of it per- He suddenly lets out a loud hacking cough before covering his mouth. The things in the dark skitter around, making pitter-patters like large paws, and there's a low growl that follows. He waits for a moment, wiping his mouth with the back of his tattered sleeve. He yells out to the creatures. Begone beasts! Though we may be feet from your mouths we may as well be a billion miles from here! The things in the dark circle around and then go quiet. ...Anyway, as I was saying. What little you can give would help tremendously in an effort to get us to where Loki needs to go, especially if we enter conflict.
Tate: You know, I knew a light spell, could make my wand into a flashlight. I bet I could do that with my finger now. He looks at Barlowe. Would that-OW! He pulls his finger away and grabs it with his other wrist, there's a little bite mark on the side of it. Loki is looking up at him angrily. I haven't forgotten about you and I'm not stalling! Why are you acting like such a little prick! Loki runs halfway to the edge of the darkness and stands up, pointing out into the dark. Tate shakes his head. He wants to prove himself, says he senses something out there in the dark, something that can help us... He says he can make it on his own, but that's not happening.
Barlowe: This may be an odd question, but do you let him do what he wants often?
Tate: He looks over at Barlowe. I don't give a shit what he does, usually I just let him do whatever and we've always agreed on everything. He leans fowards, looking at Loki with annoyance. He's never been such a brat before like this.
Barlowe: Familiars want to their witches. They want to be useful. It's their job. He turns and looks out into the dark. ...If you say you don't care what he does, maybe you should. He takes a deep breath. He does what he does because he cares about you.
Tate: I didn't mean it that way. He looks to Loki. He's like, my best friend. Loki lets out a loud squeak. No, I wouldn't let Ahiga go out there, I'd call him a dumbass! After a brief pause he looks to Barlowe, sighing loudly. So what do I need to do to give you mana, you're not gonna suck my soul out or anything, are you?
Barlowe: Just place your hands over mine, and allow me to take it. It'll refill when next you sleep, as it always has. He shrugs a little.
Tate: He looks at Loki and then stands up, walking over to Barlowe, then kneeling near to him, holding out his hands. Alright, lets get this over with already, maybe I'll try to take a nap while you're gone... So I don't collapse in on myself into a fucking black hole of anxiety...
Barlowe: His shaking hands raise up under Tate's and closes his eyes. This won't hurt, but you may feel a little drowsy or dazed for a moment. Blue light flows up through his veins and into his hands, then drips into Barlow's old shaking palms like water. That's enough. He pulls his hands away from under Tate's and leans back, closing his eyes. Give me a moment... A minute of silence passes and a shimmer of green-blue light pulses out from Barlowe's body, and a clean-cut and healthier looking Barlow is suddenly standing over himself, his beard is short and trimmed and his hair is slicked back. He looks like a real person except for a very dim aura of blue-green light that outlines him. The astral projection speaks, instead of Barlowe. This will work. He walks around himself and nearer to Tate.
Tate: Why can I see your projection? He looks up at Barlowe as he moves around.
Barlowe: Astral projections can be made to influence the physicallity of the universe should you know the way to will it so. He looks to Loki, then back to Tate. I suspect that Morganstern's next lessons were going to teach you how to do something like this, so that you might speak with your friends.
Tate: He lets out a long groan. Of course I miss out on something I actually wanted her to teach me.
Barlowe: Perhaps when we've been freed of this place, I may teach you. He smiles at Tate a bit. Now. We'd best be on our way.
Tate: Just remember what you said old man. Anything goes wrong you summon him back here to me.
Barlowe: You have my word. If we are beset with danger too great, I will send your familiar right back here. He looks out into the dark. I stand ready when you are, Loki. He turns invisible to everything else, except Loki.
Tate: He turns and sighs. I'll cause a distraction, then you guys make a run for it. He cracks his knuckles and walks over to the pedestal, touching the water. A blue ripple expands outwards, and the water starts to tremble and pull up over his forearms before all of it pulls up onto them. If my high school teachers taught me anything it's that I'm pretty fuck'n good at being loud and disruptive. He pulls his hands away from the pedestal and the water trembles around his hands and arms like it's trying to fall off but keeps getting pulled back onto his arms.
Barlowe: You don't have much mana. He looks to the water swirling around Tate's hands.
Tate: I only use mana if I gotta conjure the water. He holds up his hand. Stuff like this is easy. He flinches suddenly as the water in the hand he's hold up nearly falls off and he has the "catch" it and pull it back onto his arm. Easy. He smirks smugly and turns towards the darkness. Just takes some concentration. Loki turns darker black and runs up next to Barlowe, crawling towards the edge of the darkness, getting ready to run.
Barlowe: Very well -Tate, we are ready to depart on your mark. He looks out into the dark.
Tate: He walks to the edge of the darkness, raising his hands. He points one arm out into the darkness and fires a bolt of water down at the ground about ten feet out. The blue light from the bolt flashes bright enough for him to see out there momentarily.
The shot lights up just enough for Tate to see a group of three creatures that look like hyenas with exceptionally long legs, hands where their front paws should be, long sharp quills sprouting from their backs, and red eyes, all wearing tattered leather rags. They all leap back as the bolt strikes the ground and lights up, covering their dog-like faces to shield their eyes.
Tate: I fucking hate these things- He suddenly fires a two blasts of water into the darkness at where one of them was.
The first shot strikes one of the hyena-like creatures stuns it just long enough for the second shot to slam into its side and knock it off balance, sending it falling onto its side. There's an uproar of growls and yelping, followed by a loud patter of feet that circles around the light and stops in front of Tate. Without warning, one of the things leaps into the protected area, but as the light touches it it's immediately ignited with white-hot flames and it screams in that unforgettable blood-curdling cry that Tate heard on the farm a year ago. The thing spasms and rolls around, curling up and rolling over the floor.
Tate: He leaps to the side, nearly "spilling" the water wrapped around his hands. -Shit! He looks down at the burning creature, taking another step back from it as it rolls around, keeping his water ready to blast it if it manages to get up.
The skinwalker rolls back out of the light and into the darkness, but it crumbles to smoldering ash and white-hot embers that dimly lights up the darkness revealing three other creatures glaring at Tate, along with two more circling around and stopping to look at him. Their eyes suddenly glow red in the dark. They move nearer to the edge of the light, letting out growls and barks.
Tate: I think they're all here! The water on his hands starts to shimmer and glow with light blue. And they're really pissed! Loki suddenly breaks into a scampering run into the great darkness.
Barlowe: He quickly runs after the small familiar. An enchantment passes over his eyes, granting him astral eyesight that allows him to see Loki's magical spirit, even in the dark. Despite being old, his astral form isn't his physical one, and he moves quickly and doesn't tire nearly as much as a normal person would.
Loki: He looks back to Barlowe to make sure he's keeping pace and then looks ahead. As they run through the dark Barlowe can hear echoing murmurs in the blackness all around them, as if there are creatures or people somewhere out in the vast distance speaking to one another. Even though the two of them haven't been running very far, they've covered an impossible distance already, and the light of the candles has shrunken to a small blue star in the abyss behind them. Loki makes a noise suddenly, that while quiet, is still loud in the murmuring near-silence of the Pyxis. Yip! It echoes about the air, bouncing off of invisible surfaces.
Barlowe: As he looks back and sees the quickly-shrinking pin-point of light where they've left Tate behind, he realizes that the very nature of this place, and not just the things in it, might be perilous. How far have we Loki, can you tell?
Loki: He suddenly turns, skidding across the ground and turning left. Yip yip! After a few more minutes of running, their surroundings start getting marginally brighter, just enough to make out the floor being nothing but a perfectly flat expanse. Loki starts to slow down, sniffing the ground like he's following a trail. The little ferret starts to move backwards, then in a circle before crawling in a meandering line with his nose to the floor.
Barlowe: As he catches up to Loki and he quietly wonders to himself what could be down here casting even the dimmest light. He looks down to the familiar, watching him move too and fro as he follows some invisible trail.
Minutes pass as they travel, and above them, Barlowe can see distant lines of extremely dim light cutting jagged paths through the dark, like far-off cracks in the darkness. As they travel they pass by strange sights that Barlowe can only just barely make out. This vast expanse is dotted with piles of junk, discarded furniture, toppled stone towers in an architectural style that he's never seen anywhere on Vlindrel, and piles of household objects. Every so often a small creature will crawl between pills, dragging a pack full of similar objects and throwing them onto it. Few of these dark little things pay Loki or Barlowe any attention, but one out of five stop what they're doing and stare at Loki as he scampers by. Regardless the small creatures never leave their piles, and seem harmless, though unnerving all the same.
Barlowe: He stays vigilant as they move through the darkness. How do these creatures survive down here?
As they continue onwards the flat terrain becomes uneven, and the path thins to a small cliff-side pass, with mountainous piles of junk and crumbling castles, structures, and towers on the left, and a bottomless black pit on the right. As they travel Barlowe can hear loud booming sounds in the distance, coming from beyond the huge piles that they're passing through. As they continue Barlowe can make out a massive four-legged creature in the distance. Fastened to its back are enormous lanterns that illuminate a castle-like group of towers strapped to its back, all held together with huge chains. The creature uses its massive head to push rubble and junk up the side of one of the huge mountains.
Barlowe: He silently watches the huge monster for a moment, before quickening his pace once more. Never have I seen a place such as this... These creatures must move the ruinous masses of everything that's been sent here, scavenging for whatever can help them survive...
Loki keeps going, never really stopping to look around. Eventually he leads Barlowe into a kind of small cavern built into one of the piles of junk. He suddenly butts his head into something and lets out a muffle cry. He grabs the top of his head and presses his face down against the ground, closing his eyes as he rubs his head. The surface he ran into is the base of a large closed door. It looks like it's made of black oak, so dark that it matches the darkness around them almost perfectly, standing out just enough for Barlowe to see it. It stands alone, with no wall or frame to support it.
Barlowe: He looks up from Loki, seeing the vague shape of the door. Are you hurt, little one? His gray eyes dart around as they trace the edges of the door.
Loki: He growls and scratches at the bottom of the door suddenly, angry at it.
Barlowe: He reaches out and presses his hand to the door. Must we pass through here then?
Loki: Yip! He jumps and tries to climb up the door, his claws making scratching sounds as he slides back down. Barlow sees that there's a black knob on the side that Loki is trying to jump up to.
Barlowe: He grabs the doorknob, carefully, and then turns it in his hand, slowly and quietly, pulling the door when it clicks.
As Barlowe opens the door, a stream of grey light pours from the opening. Though dim, it's almost blindingly bright compared to the darkness they've been moving through for the last twenty minutes. Through the doorway is a natural park-like area, Barlowe can smell wet earth and trees, and a cool breeze wafts outwards from the door. The garden is broken up by large white stone buildings with slanted stone rooftops, with no windows or doors that he can see.
Loki: After a moment, he quickly darts through the doorward and out into the dimly lit garden. He stops and sniff the air, looking around and then sniffing along the grass.
Barlowe: With a bit of hesitance he steps through the doorway, looking about the garden, eyeing one of the structures. What is this place? He looks up to the sky, thinking that they may have ended up back on Vlindrel somewhere.
In the sky hangs a large grey sphere that illuminates the area, closer than a natural sun should be, but still far from the ground. It looks like a huge ball of darkness, ringed with a trembling corona of grey light that flows off the edges of it almost like mist. The garden itself seems to be situated in a great bowl-like crater that curves up into a natural ring of land. Stranger still than the crater-like area is the fact that the garden and what extends beyond it -a city criss-crossed by stone ramparts and pale towers, fills the basin of the crater itself nearly up to the edge. Beyond this ring are twisted white mountains, and a deep blue, and incoherently alien, horizon that looks as if black paint is running down its surface to the land below, from a pitch-black sky above that rests beyond the strange sun.
Barlowe: A portal indeed, but not to Vlindrel. He surveys the strange land, and then looks back to the doorway they passed through.
The door stands idle in the middle of the garden, held up by no wall or arch. Through it Barlowe can see only the blackness of the Pyxis.
Loki: He suddenly looks back to Barlowe and lets out a squeak. Then runs off to the left. As Barlowe watches the little familiar run, he can see that Loki is running down to the lowest point of the crater, where a small cathedral rests.
Barlowe: Is that where our savior waits? Once again he breaks into a run, keeping up with the ferret-familiar.
Loki: Yip! He speeds up a little.
As Barlowe runs through this area, the things in this place seem to become ever more odd. The grass that blankets the ground is a shade of deep blue-green. Large vase-like displays sit atop lonely columns, sprouting twisted plants with flowers that look almost as if they're carved from colored glass. Everything is pristine and all of the shrubs and the grass itself are perfectly trimmed. Despite this, there's no signs of life other than plants. No humans, no bugs, not even the sounds of birds.
Barlowe: Despite having been to other realms before, this one is begining to unnerve him, and he silently begins to wonder if Loki is even leading him to someone that can help. This whole realm seems to be an artifice... Some manufacted pocket-world... Perhaps... Still even in the Pyxis itself...? But who would have the power to do such a thing?
Loki: They soon reach a path of carved stone that spans outwards from the cathedral, Loki's little paws are making quiet scratching sounds as they walk over it. Like everything else here, the path is a single stretch of stone, unbroken by divides. Travelling a few minutes more, they reach the steps of the cathedral, and Loki begins to climb them by pulling himself up, one step at a time.
At the top of the stairs is the Cathedral itself, which looks "off" like much of everything else in this place. It features a single belltower, and though it has windows of stained glass, all of them have bars of an unidentifiable grey-blue metal over them. The door to the entrace of the Cathedral itself is fairly small for the size of the structure.
Barlowe: He ascends the stairs at a brisk pace until he reaches the door. He quickly reaches out to grab the handle.
As Barlowe reaches for the handle, it becomes apparent that there isn't one, and the edges of this doorward have been fused into the stone foundation. Paragraphs of scripture suddenly "glow" across the surface of the doors in a blue-green light. Its some kind of warding magic, but it is written in a language Barlowe does not know, though he can tell its incredibly old, more so than even the oldest magic at Aurelion, and by no small degree.
Loki: As he runs up to the door he starts sniffing it, then scratching at it like he's trying to dig under it.
Barlowe: He looks down to Loki, then back to the scripture on the door. ...You're certain that who we seek lay within this structure? He looks up at the belltower above.
Loki: He starts scratching at it more quickly, making not progress at all, then lets out a weird grunt. Eh? He looks around for a moment, then begins scratching at the bottom of the door once more.
Barlowe: Stand back, little one. Let me take a crack at this. He takes a few steps back and raises his hands and waits a moment for Loki to move. This barricade is made from stone, effective against anyone else, but not likely me- He raises his hands and a bright green light shines from his palms. He holds out his hands towards the stone door, then moves both his outwards to his sides in opposite directions in an attempt to shatter open the entryway by pulling apart the stone itself with powerful terramancy.
The scripture is more powerful than it appears, and it flares brightly with some ancient anti-magical power, the sweeping cursive-like letters smoke and flicker slightly as he attempts to pull at the door, but it doesn't budge a perceivable amount.
Barlowe: Hmm... The old wizard narrows his eyes and takes a few steps back. He fixates his gaze upon the door and the scripture, and ripples of green light start expanding from the spot in front of Barlowe, after a moment he moves his hands up and green cracks shine up in front of him before shattering as he conjures chunks of brown-grey stones. They float up in front of him and smash together, the cracks in the boulder glowing bright green. He thrusts his hand forwards in a punching motion and the boulder jets towards the door like it was fired out of a cannon, exploding on impact into rings of green light, striking the door with a powerful blast of physical and magical energy.
The anti-magic scripture flares brighter and then flickers wildly for a moment, before returning to full strength. Loki has run for cover, hiding at the bottom step, peaking up over it at Barlowe.
Barlowe: He furrows his brow in annoyance, looking at the doors. Hmph... He mumbles something under his breath and takes a few steps back. A few minutes later he is standing at the edge of the steps, chanting something loudly in a strange tongue. De Trila Futeh Porht! De Trila Futeh Porht! De Trila Futeh Porht! De Trila Futeh Porht! Above him is a pillar of stone that's about nine feet in length. It's spinning in the air, shaped like a huge, crude, drill, the tip of which has been transmuted into diamond. AHL-LEHY! The pillar-drill thrusts down into the door and crashes into it, spinning into the anti-magic.
The door holds but the scripture flickers and begins to ripple and distort as it struggles to maintain its ward.
Barlowe: Ouh-vreerer! The drill begins to spin faster, and the tip of it starts to glow with heat as green mana flows down into it. Barlowe, focused and practice, doesn't appear to be breaking a sweat, but his concentration is steadfast as he manipulates the magical stone he's conjured. BREAK!
The scripture on the door crackles and pops, then flashes brightly and goes dark like a bunch of tiny lightbulbs that all burned out at once. The drill instantly breaks through the door and then through it.
Barlowe: He lets out a gasp of relief and then shakes his head a bit, lowing his hands to his sides. Remember this Loki... A big enough rock can smash anything. He waves with the back of his hand a little as he approaches the door, and the stone drill vanishes into green energy and dust. Barlowe he steps up into the door and peers inside, looking around before he carefully steps over the remains of the stone door.
The next area is the huge nave of a the interior of what's obviously the large cathedral that was in the sky. The inside is well-lit by a huge hanging chandelier with a ring of candles alit with grey flames. Despite the light sources, the interior is still darker than even the low-light of the outside.
Barlowe: He looks up at the chandeliers. Why is this place so well protected? He starts walking up the aisles, passed the rows of pews. ...And who was it that built such a place? Magic like that is not at all common... He looks around at the architecture as he moves through the cathedral. A place of worship in the middle of a crater...
Loki runs up the aisel ahead of him and looks around before stopping. As Barlowe continues fowards he sees someone resting on the steps of the altar ahead. What looks to be a knight wearing silvery form-fitting armor with a full helmet and a long blue veil and a blue cloak. On the steps beside the figure is a matching silver kite shield and a shortsword. Loki runs up to the figure and sniffs at it. He yips loudly and starts jump and twisting in the air, obviously happy.
Barlowe: He murmurs quietly. Is this who you sensed, little familiar? He raises his voice, becoming visible. Greetings to you, knight in blue.
The Knight's hand darts out suddenly grabs Loki tightly. It pulls Loki close to its helmet and looks at the little ferret, who lets out a labored groan as he's squeezed. A young woman's voice comes from the knight's helmet. Little thing... Scurrying in from the darkness... The bell in the Cathedral suddenly sounds loudly, resonating outside, almost like an alarm.
Barlowe: He immediately thrusts his hand forwards and Loki vanishes into a puff of white smoke as he's summoned safely back to Barlowe's real body. Fair knight... We sought your aid, to get us out of this place...
Blue Knight: She opens her hand, the smoke tumbling between her silver-armored fingers. After a moment she grabs her short sword with her left hand, then slams the tip of her weapon into the edge of the shield, flipping it over her and onto into her right arm as she stands up. No one escapes the Chasm... So long as a Chasm Knight of Loyce remains vigilant... Her sword shimmers with black energy and silvery light as she stands taller than most any other human woman Barlowe has seen and looks to the old man with a glare like steel. Your rat-familiar has lead you to your death...
Barlowe: His eyes go wide and he raises his hands defensively when she says she's a Knight of Loyce. I am so such creature! The familiar and I have been banished here by a powerful witch and we seek escape!
Blue Knight: Shadow is not cast but born of those that seek the light. There is no greater truth than that which can be found in martial combat. So let us see what the world of the light above has to offer in its mettle in this age of dark. She suddenly sprints towards Barlowe and leaps into a lunging thrust.
Barlowe: Lady knight?!- He pulls his hands upwards and a wall of stone is conjured up in front of him to barricade the charging knight.
Blue Knight: Her sword rings as the tip of its blade pierces through through the wall of stone and out the other side, a few inches from Barlow's chest.
Barlowe: His hands tremble slightly and pale-green light dances between his fingertips. Hark, noble knight! for my audience was not meant bring harm- He flinches as her blade pierces through solid stone, then narrows his eyes. -But if combat is the language you require that I speak, then so be it! For you'll find it is a language I'm well-verse in! He thrusts his hand forwards and the wall explodes into a hail of stones that crash into her bound off of her silvery armor in loud clangs, sending her stumbling back.
Blue Knight: She blocks several of the rocks with her shield as she slides backwards, and a shroud of shimmering darkness suddenly wraps around her as she launches herself at the elderly mage. The darkness bats away the remaining stones as she quickly closes the distance between them in an instant and slashes down at him, then spins and bashes him in the chest to knock him backwards, and finally leaps after him and and stabs her short-sword down at Barlowe.
Barlowe: As she slashes down as him he pulls a slab of stone from the air to block and her sword slashes through it, splitting it apart but protecting Barlowe. As she slams him in the chest he stumbles backwards and cubes of violet energy fall down around him, near-instantly forming a box of purple magic that blocks the attack. The purple box fades and he's gone along with it. After a brief moment, a huge surge of green energy slams into her back and explodes into a cross of spiked emerald energy and brown dust, launching her away and sending her tumbling over the ground. Fair knight I seek not to waste our energy here! Barlowe appears standing at the top of the altar, having been invisible until he launched the Earth Surge at the Blue Knight.
Blue Knight: She quickly rolls to her feet, and seems only marginally disorientated, despite the power of the blast. Why disturb me... If you do not seek to destroy me? A trembling dark energy with a halo of shimmering grey light spreads across her sword, extending its length to more than double what it was. She stands ready, shield up and sword pointed at Barlowe.
Barlowe: We seek only aid in escape of the Pyxis! The familiar sensed that you could help! He motions with his hands in a tight formation and two dozen small shards of stone appear floating in the air around him, after a moment he pulls his hand back, the astral muscles in his arms shaking with exertion, almost like he's drawing the string of a huge and powerful bow, and the stones spin in the air, compacting down into carved razor-sharp diamonds that glow with green light within.
Blue Knight: She looks to the diamonds for a moment, then suddenly lunges forwards with her extended blade, apparently not intimidated by them. She stabs her long blade forwards towards Barlowe's chest for what would likely be a mortal blow. 
Barlowe: The second she makes an aggressive move he releases the diamonds and they launch themselves at her. They cut through the air so sharply that they leave sharp thin lines in their wake. The majority of the diamonds crash against the knight's shield, slicing it to ribbons of metal, the others slice apart her armor around her sword-arm and head with surgical accuracy, and a few of them slice shallow cuts into her elbow distorting her aim enough that Barlowe can side-step her lunge safely. He throws his hand up and a pedestal of grey-brown stone appears in a flash of green light, rising from the floor and turning into an oversized stone arm that grabs her wrist, keeping it from moving.
Blue Knight: Her helmet falls away, and chunks of her armor on her arms fall to the floor around her. She looks to her left arm and pulls at it several times. She glares at Barlowe, long black hair falling to the sides of her face to frame it. ...You are no man of Loyce...
Barlowe: I never claimed as such. He walks a bit closer to her and looks the tall woman up and down. Why would you attack someone that only seeks your help? Knights of Loyce are said to be chivalrous and noble...
Blue Knight: I surmise that you've not actually met many Knights of Loyce, let alone a Chasm Knight. She smirks a little, but it quickly fades, along with her fierce glare, making her look more approachable. I am Kaalianore, Chasm Knight of Loyce, and I needed to be sure that you weren't sent by the one who locked me within this cathedral.
Barlowe: I am Barlowe, professor of Aurelion... He looks at her strangely. The only way to be sure of my nature was through near-mortal combat? 
Kaali: If you were sent by the Black Knight, you would've killed me once I were incapacitated. You would not have made comments about my lack of chivalry. If you unbind my arm, I will help you escape this place. She looks to the stone wrapped around her arm.
Barlowe: And I've a guarantee of your aid? What assurance is there you won't try to kill me once you're free?
Kaali: You've proven your measures of truth and I see no more reason to fight. Suddenly the bell rings once more and she looks back and up towards the direction of the tower. He will have heard the toll by now, and will be nearly here.
Barlowe: This Black Knight is who you're refering to? He looks to the entrance of the Cathedral. He locked you in here?
Kaali: He cannot be bested under the Negative Sun, not even by you.
Barlowe: He looks her up and down, then waves his hand. The bell is an alarm then? The stone holding her arm in place turns to dust and green specs of light. Then we should be going, the portal to return is not far from here. He heads towards the broken down entrance.
Kaali: She spins her sword and slides it into her scabbard. Lead the way.