A lazy day would be like any other day. The sun was always setting to the south and rise to the north?calling it the Longitude-Sun or Long-Sun for short, rise from the west and set in the east, the Latitude-Sun or Lat-Sun. Never the darkness has filled the skies in this land. The land nothing but fields and forest and it has always been that way. A new era started only three years ago, Dawn of Liev this portion of time has been called. New faces and old, friends and family that was never once related or known. The time of the Balance was kept for now.

The Story-Tellers laid in wake?never knowing what sleep feels like?never knowing what feeling weary and fatigued may be. They have seen it, observed it, but never experienced it. The Story-Tellers were always meant to be at the ready, to fend off any Incubi that come their way.

Not many of the Story-Tellers know where they came from or how they came to exist. Few have questioned it, but only to end up mad or a Path-Finder?which most believe is mad already.

This story?no?this journey belongs to one of the many Story-Tellers. A Story-Teller who lost his way, his life, and his true purpose of existing.

A journey that has yet to truly begin.

Keeping to himself while lying within the Emma Groves, the Long-Sun readying to set. In the far distance, vague sounds of beating drums were heard through the soft winds that trailed on like whispers of lovers. A piece of hay-like-grass between his lips, but never once chewed, the thick but clean dark brows furrowed with the stubble chiseled face staring up sternly. Only after a few moments, the furrow faded away as his face smoothed out to an ease of content. Arms behind his head, sleeves of the pale-blue dress-shirt rolled up above the elbows, black vest unbuttoned and black slacks resting on his legs between them and the grass. Barely moving except to blink, breathe, and to roll the grass about his lips, he only stared out in the skies.

The Long-Sun was nearly complete as the Lat-Sun was nearly completely rising as well from the west when a new sound whispered in the lovers? ears.

?One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. Go, fur, bur, row. One, two, three, four.? The voice trailed on closer and closer and yet still nothing above a whisper.

?You are not going to persuade me, Path-Finder. So go and turn around now.? The man?s voice was stern and yet soft-spoken. A deep and not quite brute-like voice. The man did not even look anywhere but up at the skies. After a few moments of silence, the man was curious as he rubbed his arms over the short light-brown hair and slowly stood up. Brown-bear-brown eyes looked around for a moment, he found nothing or anyone. He sighed with relief, but as he was ready to sit back down, another man stepped in front of him as if hiding in the grass. The grass, however, was no more than three feet tall. Both of the men were easily six feet tall. The new man was just like any other person, dirt blonde hair that was ruffled out as if he just got out of bed. A faded red sweater-jacket with a green t-shirt underneath and jeans that have been worn one too many times. The only thing different was that his eyes were taped shut in the form of an ?X? with electrical tape. Canting the head a bit, the man did his best to level his head with a Cheshire-like grin on his face.

?The fallen warrior gave up already??

?Not fallen, just standing on the edge. And I gave up long ago which you should do too, Path-Finder.? The man bent down to grab a black kayak paddle and strapped it to his back. He then slowly started to turn about to walk away, but it was the abrupt shout from the man he called Path-Finder that stopped him.

?NEVER.? The blind man stood there, tilting his head down a bit, hearing the footsteps stop. Chuckling a bit, he shook his head and spoke softly once again. ?Giving up is something we never do. It is possible, though, that you, Altin, need to find something. Or someone. Stories are waiting to be told and yet deaf ears are all around.?

The man named Altin turned around and growled a bit. ?I had someone. The stories of his were perfect.?

The Path-Finder did nothing but cant his head to listen, but then shook his head. ?You knew there was nothing you could have done to prevent what came to be. I could not even do so.? Rummaging through the pocket of the sweater-jacket, the Path-Finder brought out and held out a small two-drum finger bongo. He knew without seeing Altin stared at his own three-drum finger bongo set that was resting comfortably to his side as if a person placed their keys in their pocket and let it hang out. He then stared to the two-drum. ?Maybe Earth is not the place to look. I will lead you to where the drum becomes the Key.?

Altin did indeed stare at the two-drum bongo set and pondered while the Path-Finder spoke. He then sighed and stared directly at the center of the X-ed eyes. ?You are going to follow me until I take it, won?t you?? Seeing the Path-Finder think then finally nodded like a child, Altin groaned in displeasure and snatched the two-drum bongo set from his hand. Taking the hay-like-grass that was once between his lips, Altin used it as if it was string to tie the two drum finger bongo set with his own three-drum set. Oddly, the strand of grass slowly blended the two-drum set and three-drum set to a way where it was a comfortable formation of a five-drum set.

?I knew you would see it my way.? With that, the Path-Finder turned around and started walking towards the north-west, counting out in the same rhythm as before his steps by fours; hearing and knowing Altin was reluctantly following.

The finger bongos vary from rhythm and beat when it comes for them becoming the Key. The Key is just like any other key, opening doorways and portals from one dimension to another. The portal for returning to plane where Story-Tellers reside can be located practically anywhere, but the portal leading from the plane to a specific dimension or plane will be in a specific location. Specific locations only known by the Path-Finders and the finger bongos themselves.

The weapons of choice will never have a blade or a bullet upon them. The weapon is chosen precisely thirty days prior to having the unit chose the Story-Teller or Incubus as the Slumber-Speaker. The event of where and how the weapon always varies. From accidents to finders-keepers to gifts, no one understands the unraveling; but just go along with it.

Normally, Story-Tellers are able to walk from one side of the Door to another without worries of being harmed are harming anyone or anything. In this case, not so much with Altin. Slamming down, face first, onto a roof-top; Altin grunted while his face was smooshed against tiled roof. Slowly moving his arms to at least lift his head up, he looked around for a moment; observing and doing best to keep quiet.

Roof-tops were seen for miles in all directions while faint voices from below. Lifting himself carefully while still on the roof, Altin balanced himself while leaning back to level out while walking along the slanted roof-tops. Once down to the edge with the rain and water drain pipes, Altin peered down and at first saw no one. Laying back down as he gripped onto the drain pipe, he carefully pulled himself downwards until he was able to flip himself so that he was dangling from the drain pipe. Dropping down and landing in a crouching position on his feet, he saw folks starting to stare in his direction. Something Altin did not understand, and possibly never will. Why were folks looking at him, let alone actually seeing him. Giving a slight chuckle-smile, he waved a bit to those passing by. Some waved in return, most kept walking by; however gave him judgmental looks every now and again.

Instinctively, Altin grabbed the finger bongos that was in his pocket and played a different rhythm than he did before; but still equally fluid and quick. He looked around, but there was nothing. No little area shivering. Knitting his eyebrows in confusion, he looked down to the finger bongos and played the same beat once again to make sure he was playing it correctly. Looking back up and around, there were a couple of folks who tossed a couple of copper coins at his feet. Frustrated and baffled, he started to wander aimlessly along the street.

Every five minutes or so, Altin played the beat again, just in case the shiver was in another location, but still nothing. Sighing in defeat after nearly an hour of nothing, he pocketed the finger bongos and scratched his forehead a bit. Well, at the very least he could watch and observe while remembering and memorizing locations and establishments. Watching men, women, children and even other creatures that Altin believed were living on other galaxies were all meandering, shopping and socializing.

Every now and again, he did see some folks at random just disappear into thin air, but only to appear in the same place or somewhere else. It seemed there were spontaneous disappearances and some of the folks seemed angry about it. Doing his best to listen in on the conversations to see if there was anything about it, but something about the Nexus or something to that word which Altin had never heard of before. Sighing, he continued on out of the area called the Marketplace and towards a place called Red Dragon Inn. Which he found interesting because the establishment was not made from a dragon or anything 2to that sort. Shrugging a bit, he saw the Inn within his sight, but then it quickly faded out.

Altin quickly looked around as he quickly unstrapped the kayak paddle and stood at the ready. The immediate surroundings and even the sky was nothing but a blur of a color palette. Nothing was distinguished and the blur was making Altin a bit distorted. But just as quickly it started, it ended and Altin was in another location. Little fields and tree-lines that lead towards an establishment that had soft smokes puffing out from the chimney. Grumbling a bit, he strapped back the kayak paddle as he placed his hands in the pockets of his slacks and slowly started to wander his way to understand this new location.

Once the Unit has chosen the Story-Teller, the Story-Teller is to follow the Unit for a period of seven Lat-Sun cycles, or approximately one week to the Gregorian calendar.? The Story-Tellers see and hear everything in the surrounding of the Unit, but no one sees and hears them in return.? A Limbo-World, if you will, is where Story-Tellers and Incubi are often residing when outside of their own planes.?The Unit will never know the existence of Story-Tellers and Incubi; not due to the Balance, but more to the benefit of the Unit his or herself.? The Unit will expect the stories within the slumber to become good or bad, never truly letting the sub-conscious explain the true stories that have been waiting to be told.?

For the past five days, Altin watched and followed Fleck, which of course annoyed her certain points of time.? It was during the mornings, though?during the time Fleck sleeps specifically?when she does not mind it so much.? Altin never relaxes on the bed or even sleep, but closes his eyes to help Fleck sleep.?Altin found it unusual for Fleck to not speak of Sunshine Blue?s father very much, in fact at all.? In a round-about and cryptic way, Fleck explained what Blue was and where she came from.? She explained how she and Fina became good friends and why she is taking care of Blue.? And how it?s relatively easy for Fleck to befriend folks.? But even with all the talking, it was rare for Altin to speak about himself; and personally he wanted it that way.? There was a small twinge in his mind every now and again, having an urge to explain everything to Fleck?but he knew that it would not be wise, let alone for her to even completely comprehend it.?

One of the nights, after Fleck was fed from a stag, her face blood-stained along with the cr?me-colored dress, she looked up to Altin while picking at the exposed muscles of the stag.??Tell me a story, Story-Teller.? About you.?? She was only half-watching Altin and half paying attention to the muscles; feeling the warmth and still tense up at the touch.? Sitting down to the now dead stag, she waited patiently.?

Watching her as he furrowed the thick eyebrows for a moment, Altin then slightly smiled; knowing which story to talk about.? Slowly sitting down as the black-oak kayak paddle hiked up only an inch or so on his back.? Rolling up the sleeves of the pale-green dress-shirt underneath the off-grey vest, he sighed as he watched her with content.? ?I actually never told anyone my first encounter with an Incubus and this was before my first Unit chose me.?? Seeing Fleck pay full attention at the word ?Incubus?, he then shook his head, ?No, not the kind you are thinking of.? These Incubi are similar to what you believe are the bad influences that tell you to have bad choices in your dreams.??

The brightest blue eyes watched him, half-shocked and half-afraid, ?Does that mean Incubi are with me all the time?? Are they telling me to be a bad girl?? Just like Her??? She did not want to cry, but it seemed she was on the brink of it as crimson-tinted water was surrounding her eyes.?

?You are not a bad girl.? You never will be.? Do not let anyone no matter how important he or she is telling you otherwise.??

And just as quickly the tears were swelling up, the blood stained face of Fleck?s gave a bright smile, ?Otherwise the falsies will take the lammies away from the judge.??

There was a chuckle, but a small nod coming from Altin as he handed her a handkerchief from his pant pocket for her to wipe her face with, ?Precisely.? And you do not want the shoes to get tired, right???

?Right!?? Taking the handkerchief, Fleck looked at it for a moment before placing it in the front pocket on her dress, leaving it unused.? Standing up, she dusted herself off, but only to let the blood soak to different areas of her dress, she then gestured her head outwards.? ?Come on.? I wanna find puppy.? Jabberwocky ran off when I was not paying attention to him an hour ago.?? Grabbing Altin?s arm to lift him off, she giggled a bit before dragging him off in a direction she did not know.?

Before he was able to say anything about the puppy, which was actually lost a couple of evenings before, he was lifted to his feet and walked directly behind her. ?Looking down to her hand holding onto his arm, he blinked and knitted his eyebrows in confusion before sighing and quickly brushing the thought away.