He gasped, sitting straight up in bed. Breath held within his chest for a long time, fearful of the release, though eventually an exhale was permitted and behind it came a panting desperation for air. Iankul wasn't exactly sure for the reason behind such a vivid dream, though he was fairly certain there was foulness at play.

The door flew open and in raced a pair of nuns, each of them encased in the habits of propriety that sisters of their status wore. "Sir Iankul, are you alright? We heard you screaming from down the hall."

Screaming? He didn't recall screaming, though who truly knew what sounds he made while entranced in slumber. "Tis alright, m'ladies. I am well. A simple fright took me by my dreams. I promise that all is well."

The Sisters cast dubious looks upon him before glancing at one another. Iankul remained stolid in his response, and tilted his head toward the door. "I highly doubt that the both of you want to be spied exiting the door of a brother-knight so late in the eve. I recommend retiring at once."

As though his words struck a nerve the two nuns turned and exited as quickly as they arrived.

Iankul watched to make sure the door was fully closed and once appeased turned to stare at his most trusted companion who leaned against the near wall well within reach, slumbering inside its velvet lined scabbard.

"Fret not, mighty Chaos Chaser, answers will come with time." Iankul said to his sword as she resumed his laying position, drawing the covers up and around his shoulders. There was no fear inside of him. In fact, if anything, he wanted to dream once again to eagerly find who may have called his name. He had an idea, though it had been so long since he had seen the Siren that he thought perhaps it was his imagination at play. He closed his bright blues and settled his mind, determined.

"Dayaniera!"

Iankul sat up, gasping for air, reaching for...something. He could see her. The sunlight that breached the eastern window bathed his small room with golden brilliance, and in that celestial haze of illumination he could make out the tumbling form of his dream partner; though it was nostalgic imagery, a fleeting hallucination.

Clarity returned, and illusion faded. He took a moment to settle his breathing, to calm his excitement, and to recite that name a time or two. "Dayaniera."

The door swung inward, and the pair of meddling Nuns descended upon him. "Sir Iankul? Sir Iankul, now I know what you are going to say, but I am certain hat I heard you screaming that time!"

Iankul looked their way, offering a small and emotionless smile. The two busybodies were the equivalent of Holy Scandalmongers, though virtually harmless save for their insistent need to be immersed in gossip. He could picture the two outside his door with their ears pressed against it, waiting for even the slightest groan to burst in and accuse him of bellowing. "I apologize. Could you send word to have my horse readied?"

Startled, the two of them shared a look with one another before returning their gaze to him. The one on the left's mouth hung agape, even as the one on the right spoke. "Sir Knight, are you leaving us?"

"I am." He replied with a nod. "I must be off. It seems that God has determined my path and has set me upon it. My time here has come to an end."

The Nuns made their way out and set stable-hands off to tend to his steed. Iankul assumed the mantle of his armor and donned the metal plates with a meticulous hand. He had practiced adorning himself with the protective suit for a very long time and could do so without the aid of a squire or assistant. Once everything was in place he exited the room and made his way down to the stables.

The alley in his dreams was nondescript and unrecognizable, though he knew of someone who might be able to help him. Since the day he arrived in Rhy'din, Lady Shantalaine had been a close friend, and if anyone knew the random and unremarkable nooks and crannies of the city it would be her.

He mounted his horse and bowed to the nuns before steering around and heading for the city.

His destination: WestEnd.

She could escape into his dreams. When Iankul slept she found blessed peace from her torture.

The sunny landscape of his angelic mind became her haven.

And yet he eschewed sleep in his search for her, determined to rescue her. But it was only in his sleep that she was safe from the torment of her existence.

Her body was a constant hotbrand of agony. Her mind delirious with the desperation of an animal.

Cilice her constant companion who only sought to harm her more viciously when she escaped to the dreamworld with Iankul.


Her body jerked and swayed beneath the fall of the thorned lash and yet she made no move to acknowledge the kiss of pain. For she was not there.

Dressed in a sheer shift, legs tucked beneath her, the wind blowing gently through her whiteblonde hair. She was atop a grassy knoll and her attention was on her companion.

"I'm coming Dayaniera."

She studied his youthfully earnest face and only smiled. He leaned forward to place the berry next to her lips and she artlessly ate it. Hers was not a trained feminine way.

There was a light buzzing. A discontented murmur of sound growing on the horizon and the blue sky darkened dismally from the East. Pouring, rumbling clouds chasing across the lip of the world toward them.

She knew what it meant. Was prepared for it, even as fear clutched her heart and her fists clenched in reaction.

Iankul jerked his head in the direction of the interruption. He was being awakened. And with his awareness he took her protection. Jerking upward he drew his sword from its sheath though the act remained futile.

"Dayaniera!"

All around her chains poured from the dark clouds. She dodged. She rolled. It didn't matter. All of her trained agility meant nothing in this land that played by another set of rules.

Her would-be savior rushed forward, his sword shining as he swung it with decisively lethal skill. Chains severed writhing in reaction before dissolving into oily smoke.

But there were too many. And despite her attempt at stoic acceptance, she screamed as they entangled her like a serpent's grasp and brought her to her knees, body arching backward in supplication.

"Iankul!" She reached for him as the wind whipped her hair wildly about, her body convulsing from the agony of the penetrating thorns.

"Dayaniera!" He reached for her, his hand whispering through her.

He bellowed and fought through the haze. The sound of his denial still upon his lips as he set up in his bed at the hostel. Alone, but for the grip of his hilt in one hand, and a pure white silken strand of hair in the other.

"Who wants to know?" The Massive Slaad asked as it measured up the cloaked figure across the bar, the vertical blink of its sickly yellow eyes more indicative of a reptile than a mortal.

There was little to distinguish the man the Slaad observed from that of a living cloak, its length enveloping the details of his body,the heavily drawn hood veiling his features in shadow. It was obsidian in color and trimmed with fur that hinted at an actual animal pelt, though beyond that the aspects of the garment were banal. "It matters not." Words sharply cut from the darkness of the hood in a voice deeply assembled. "I seek only a room and a way from Avernus to Dis. Do you know of one?"

Massive, the towering outsider loomed ominously above the smaller figure. By nature Slaad's were extremely violent and rather unsophisticated, though this one was a bit different;l thus the reason for owning a tavern upon the first plane of Baator. The creature's lipless mouth slashed a grin bearing jagged teeth and a forked tongue before nodding vigorously. "Two soul stones for the room." It's immense chest expanded in some primordial symbol of intimidation. "Two more for the information."

The cloaked form remained calm, composed, offering the malefic creature little triumph in its menacing attempt. "Very well."
With the key collected and the fees paid, the cloak floated up the stairs and to the room baring the matching numbers. He pushed the key in the hole, jiggled it and turned, and then stepped inside. The door closed, locked as quickly as it had been opened. The room was only as big as a pair of closets put together, with a single bed nestled along the entire length of the far wall. There was a rancid smell, one of urine and decay, though it was ignored as it seemed the entire realm was saturated in such filth.

Hands emerged from the depths of the cloak ascending to draw the hood away, and finally Iankul breathed.

Systematically he moved to the bed, his cloak pulled from his shoulders to be cast across the iron bedpost. His pack slid from his shoulder and tumbled to the ground as he drew his sword, the length of it barely able to fit in his hand due to the smallish size of the room. He rolled onto the bed and laid the weapon long ways down the length of his body so that the pommel rested just beneath his chin. He drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes. He dared not pray to God in that unholy realm, for with the smallest hint of purity the devils would descend upon him as though sharks would chum.

He envisioned where he wanted to be: that verdant hillside bathed in light and warmth. He had been there, waiting for her night after night, needing to find her. He forced his breath softer, forced his mind to calm, until he was seized by slumber.

When his eyes opened he was there, standing atop that hill basking in the glory of the midsummer day. He reached out his arms to both sides and tilted his chin so that the yellow glow of the sun could caress his face. How he missed such simple solace.

Time stopped and he breathed in the fresh air, the limpidness aroma washing over him in palpable waves. It was a needed escape from the iniquity that marred his current location, and one that he would not be able to find until he returned.

Returned with...

..."Dayaniera?"

The emerging presence hit him like a fist, sending his eyes wide to scan down along the hill for whom it belonged. Surely enough, Dayaniera was there, racing upward with a smile adorned to her angelic face that seemed to grow wider the closer she got.

He smiled too.

For her.