Everything was a blur. A wild, wild blur of life that spaced out days. Infinite were the sands of time for a wolf that could not tell it. His eyes could barely keep themselves open as he wandered the lands in search. He wanted to feed the voices in his head. Whispering lingering thoughts of murder and pain. Keep going, they told him. Find someone to end the suffering, they urged. Continued to urge as he made his way through Boreas. Unknown to him, he had ended up back north. Trees loomed over him, dancing shadows enveloping his body as his yellow eyes darted back and forth.

Opened abscesses coated his mottled body with draining ooze and blood. The wound procured by his own doing upon his forehead was still split open and crystallized. Every step his paw took squelched with the sound of mud and ooze beneath him. His whole body coated in the goo would not go away. No matter how many times he rubbed himself with his paws or the rough bark of a tree, it never lamented. Gil didn't care anymore. He only wanted the reprieve of sweet death. It wouldn't come to him. Fight upon fight with others, imaginary specters, and himself, his heart would not stop beating.

Gone was the thought that he possibly had feelings for that girl. He had not come across her again since their trek up the mountain. Possibly that had been a good thing. He couldn't hurt her if he stayed away. Deep growls lurched up to his throat as his thinned body bristled with fury. In a frenzy, Gil whipped around. Every hair on his body that wasn't matted stood on end as he flashed ooze-covered teeth. Lowering his head as ghosts danced before his eyes, he thought he had seen someone following him. Letting loose a pained howl into the aurora-filled sky, Gil froze. "If you're following me, come out now," he hissed, his voice weak and gurgling as he spat out more ooze from his tongue. Would this pain ever end?

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D i m o s t h e n e s Dimosthenes couldn't stop for a second. He'd been running for years, or at least it felt like it. And what was the difference anymore? Reality or perception, he couldn't tell. He couldn't stop. He couldn't think. If he tried, the voices would scream until he wanted to slash off his own ears and cry on the ground. There were so many voices, and they could scream very loudly when they wanted to. When he did what they wanted: run, they were quieter but still pushy. He knew that they appealed to his worst instincts. It was revealing something about him that the voices suggested so often that he should sacrifice someone else to this disease. They'll get it, they whispered. But you'll lose it. They were getting more and more convincing as he struggled through pain and sleeplessness and the ever-present terror. And why should he fight it? Why not give in and destroy someone else? No one had ever saved Dime. He'd learned his whole life that no one could really count on anyone else. You had to look out for number one, or you'd die, quick or slow but unavoidable either way. And there was someone. Right there. "Noooo..." the voices wailed. "Not him." Before Dime could run off, the wolf whipped around and hissed right at him. Dime spat a thick cord of ooze at him and snarled. He didn't remember meeting him before. The voices screamed suddenly, and he yelped involuntarily. "Speech"

There was someone there. He hadn't been imagining it. The voices weren't lying this time. As his body curled and his voice came snarling out, a thick glob of ooze came hurtling toward his face. Slapping his nose as if he had just been licked by a bear, it went up into his nostrils. Sputtering loudly, Gil's eyes closed as he thrashed his head around. How dare this stranger spit at him! Another furious growl rumbled deep in his chest as he lowered closer to the ground. Something about this smaller wolf appeared familiar. But he couldn't quite place it yet.

The fog in his brain and the voices in his ears told him it was an enemy. This someone had been tracking him. He was supposed to be the hunter, not the prey. Laying his ears flat on his head, after the goo had oozed from his nostrils, Gil promptly spat his own cord of ooze back at Dime. All around them, ooze piled up everywhere. It was on the plants, his body, the trees, on Dime. Everywhere he looked, all he saw was ooze. Stepping toward the small white wolf with his hackles raised, Gil flashed his ooze-covered teeth as the voices urged him to follow their orders.

You know him, but you don't know him. They whispered to him. Confusion streaked across his face as he faltered in his path of destruction. Pain creased his yellow oozy eyes as he squinted carefully. Another growl ripped from his mouth as he slashed a paw in Dime's direction. Who was this wolf? Did he know him? Fighting through the plague that succumbed to his body, he blinked quickly. His mind was trying to put the pieces together. Paranoia flickered inside of his belly as he stepped back. He didn't want to hurt his one friend. Someone who had hunted and sparred with him.

Was this Dime? The small wolf who had helped him to take down that sheep? Lowering his chin toward his chest, Gil whipped around and found a nearby rock to smash his forehead against. Ooze and blood trickled down his forehead as he stepped back and shook off the dizziness that ensued. A flicker of real memories and recognition passed over his gaze as he looked back to the sick wolf. No, this couldn't be Dime. He wouldn't have been so aggressive toward him. Another growl left his mouth as he spat out more ooze and wiped his face with his paws. Barely able to see, barely able to breathe, his throat gurgled in an attempt to speak.

"Dime..."

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D i m o s t h e n e s Dime couldn't remember meeting Gil at all. All he saw was an enemy, a large, angry-looking enemy. He spat on him in return and had ooze dripping from his teeth. Dime forgot for a few moments that he probably looked as bad if not worse and saw a man who was going to kill him if he didn't stop him. They were just two rabid beasts, and Dimosthenes was going to be the one to survive. He was inherently a selfish man. When his safety and well-being were threatened, he lost his ability to look out for anyone else, especially when he had clean forgotten his only real friend. But he didn't attack more than once and only falteringly the first time. He instead moved back and smashed his head on a rock. Dime's only thought was that this guy was crazy, dangerously insane. They both were growling wordlessly at each other. Until Gil stopped. He said Dime's name. Dimosthenes stopped growling and stood silently still. He wiped a paw over his face. "How... How do you know?" Who was this guy? "Speech"

Through his foggy brain, he almost couldn't comprehend the words coming out of Dime's mouth. How did he know? The wolf standing before him was so familiar but unfamiliar at the same time. Paranoia tickled the back of his brain as the voices screeched at him to listen. Half of them wanted him to stop and run, to not harm his friend. The other half continued insisting that he spill blood. Gil's face contorted into a picture of agony. "Friends," was the only word he could get out of his mouth as he stepped back again. "No, no, no," he whispered under his breath as he shook his head wildly.

Lunging forward, teeth clacking together loudly, he stopped feet from Dime. "I said no!" Gil shouted at himself, lowering his head to the ground in a bow. Covering his face with his paws as he smooshed more ooze into his eyes. "Can't hurt you," he mumbled, his whole body shaking as he fought back the erratic thoughts that urged him to inflict pain. Clawing at his cheeks, trying to force himself to feel something other than the sickness that took over his body, Gil looked up at Dime with wide yellow eyes. "Please, just end me," the words left his mouth before he could register what he said.

Of course, he didn't want to die so why did he say it?


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D i m o s t h e n e s Dimosthenes continued staring with no recognition at the man, who seemed to know him. It was odd not knowing someone who knew him. But then, everything was odd these days. His mind was messed up, bad. But it would be too hard to admit that, so he was trapped in denial. Truthfully, he believed that he was the one sane man in a world gone mad. What he did and what he felt mentally were absolutely rational and the right things to do and feel. To think otherwise was to admit that he wasn't okay, and he couldn't accept that. But the man said a word: 'Friends.' Dime shook his head helplessly. "No," was the only thing he could say. He startled back when the man lunged for him, before stopping and dropping his head low, shouting but not seeming like it was directed at Dime. What the hell was he doing? How crazy was he? He didn't quite catch what he mumbled, and he wouldn't have believed it even if he'd heard it perfectly. 'Please, just end me.' Dime stepped back another step, even more bewildered than before. His eyes were as wide as the moon by now. "No, no," he said. "I won't." He couldn't. "Speech"

Gilgamesh

You think you are suddenly a g̵͌̈́ĥ̵̑ơ̷͒s̷͋̕t̷͌́.



You gain:

• Mushrooms (9)- Used in Firefly's Shoppe, and perhaps elsewhere...
  

F̷̢̢̢̨̨̢̛̛̬̜̩̹͇̝̗̪̜͙͕̝̫̟̥͖̯̱̰̹̗̺̜͈̰͚͎̜̘̩̠̱̱͈̜̭̀̍̇̋͊̉̂̈̑̓̉̄̈́͗̑͗̓̽͋̾̍͛͗͛̏̐̑͐̒̔͋̕͘͘͜͝͠͠͝͠͝ͅͅÍ̷̡̢̞̘͖͙̮̺̝̼͉͈̼̣͕̲̜̤̦̦͚̗̃̊̕͝ͅR̵̨̨̳̭͚̻̱̥̮͓̫̤̺̱͕̹͚̲͕̼̙̯̟̻̠̖͙̘̦̀́̊̒͑͊͋̏́͑̈́̔̌̈́̒́̂̑̃̅͗̅̄͆̍͆̃̓̾̀̾̒̎̾̓̿̅̏͊̕̕͝ͅȨ̸̡̛̤̬͇͍̬̗̙̠͔̓̅̄͊̀̃͐͐̄̏̈̍͗̓̋̏̀̈́̉̐͊́̄̅͘͠F̸̡̡̢̣͔͎̭̳̱̙͖͍̣̳̣͓̰̠̳̜̲̣̠̖̖͉̘̗͙̖̼̜̖̞͙͇̲̫̺̻͙̥͈̬̤̬̩͒ͅͅĻ̸̳̟̘̫̺͓̺̊̋͑̈́͊̇̽̏̒̔̉̊̽̇̉̔̑̉̔͋̈́̈́̃̐̽͘͝͝͝Y̵̡̡̛̛̦͙̬͙̮̘̺̗͕̜̜͙̟͍̺͙̖̫͕̩̆͊̊̈́͛͛̈́̌͊̀̾̿̄̅̏̿̽̑̌͂̇̋̎̐́̑̈́͂͊͒̏̕̚͘͜͝ͅ ̷̨̢̢̢̨̛̣͓̭̘̯̜̗͔͇̜̟͕͙̬̘͖̠̫̫͚̩̠̬̠͍̦̰̯̈́̂̄̂̐̆̀̅́͘͘͜S̷̡̧̡̛̬͕̫̮͖̹̣̖͓̥̹͓̹̹͉̩̠̩̻̠̝͕͐͐̈͒́̈́̄̿́͊̉͊͐̈̆͒̈́̈́̍͊̊́̾̾̄̕̕̚͠ͅͅḨ̵̪͍͓͍̓̎̽͐̐̇͊̈́̊̐̓̎̄̔̋͐̔̏̽͐̿̑̏̏̅͐̆͂̂͒͆̒̄̉̏̈́͌̒̉̎̆͘̕͝͝Ŏ̵̢̧̢̗̬̰̣̹̘̰̥̗̥̦̫̙͈̞̣̘̞̯̟̱̖̀̏͝ͅͅP̵̨͚̟͚͇͎̣̝̞̈́P̶̨̛̛̘̣͍͎̱̙̲͚͚̼̟̈̀̍͆̍̎́͐̈́͐̐̓̆͂̃́̋̍͆͠E̵̢̨̧͍͕͖͍̰̹̦͕̼̺̤̙͉̫̝̠͇̯͙̬̩͉̱͍̔̓̉͋́́̆͐̇̈́̔́̂̓̄͋̈͗͘͝- Dimosthenes

You hear growling and it takes you a few minutes to realize it's you.

You gain:

• Crystals (x8)- Used in Firefly's Shoppe, and perhaps elsewhere...
  

You blink, and you're face to face with a figure who seems as if it's clipping through d̴̰͚͖̮͙̥̥̙̥̬̬̼̙̟̤͖̘̺̩͓̙̣͙͇̤͓̰͕̺͉̳̰̰̺̠̠̟͓̘̭̘̿̈́͛̈́̇̈͗́́͂͌̓̈͛́̀̿̽̓̈́̈͘͜͝͝į̸̡͔̖͈͕͙̺͈̺͔͇͍̭͖̖̟̙͚̠̯̻̘̼̙͇̮̬̳̹̼̣̻͖͉̪̾̀̆̔̉̽͋̄̇̄͂̈́ͅͅm̶̧̢̱̯̲̻̳̞̦͚͖͎̼̹͙̩̹̟͕̥͉̤̭̠͔͎̜̪̲͈̰̼͙̟̱̺̯̼̐̿͛͑͛̅̍́̇̔̎̀̾̉̒͋̾̒̿͛̀̕͠͠͝è̸̢̡̧̥͓̩͉͉̙̺̫̦͍̮̤͙̩̭̹̬̰̭̮̫̹͉̦͔̘͛̈́̍̓̒͌͊͌̌̍̽̓̏̎͘̚͜͝n̴̢̧̝͕͇͚͉̩̱̫̭͇̬̹͎̈ͅś̷̨̨̡̖̩͚̖̱͇͇͔̪̺͎̮̤̻̹̯͔̺̰̯͉͔̼̗̙͈̯͙̮̳̤̹̳̹̝̝̦̻̃̇̌́͒̊̓͋̌̍̐̕͜͝͝ͅi̸̧̧̨̧̭̳̦̲̣̜̼̙̅͛̓͊͆͌̔̿̋͆̑̍̏̔̏̓̌̕̕̕̕͠͝o̴̧̢̦̗̘͔͕̮̼̣̬̥̠̱͚̱̣̩̭̟̺̲̠͕̹͓̲̜̙̝͇͓̩͚̦̿̇̽ņ̶̧̢̢̛̥̣͎̦̬̫͍̪̣̣̦̜̹̝͖͚̟͕̮̫̣͉̗̘̼͎͕͈͉̇͂̊̒̅͛̄̄̅́͂̍͌̌̀̀͂̎̍̆̉̈́̐͋͂̍̈́̽̌̽͘̕͘͘͘͜͜͠ͅs̸̢̧͚̖̟̞̲̥͔̣̼̰̥͔̲̟̮̟̹̠̱̩̬̹͉̯͇̣̭̦̪̱̣͉̭̖͖͚͊̃͋̐͑͌͋̊̕͝ͅ. In front of him, a small wooden stand, which thankfully looks firmly placed in your dimension. On the table lay three items, with their prices beside them. "Choose if you ḑ̴̛̠̲̰̪͎̮̻͕̝̻͉͇̳̙̗̬̤̖̙͚̰̲̑̆̎͆̉̉̈́̍̂̑͂̽͐̽̔͌̈̈́̓̒̂̅͘͘͜ͅą̵̪͙̦̖̮̮͈͖͇̭̗͈̖̫̲̗̜͍̀̾̾̎͂̈́̓͗̎̎̿͋͛̒̑̅̐́̔́̓̕̚͠ͅŗ̵̧̧̛͉̝̰͉̖̯̘̜͉͍̥̟̖̫̤̪͖̬͇͖͓̪̩̫̊̍͂̄͘͜ę̴̡̢̧̢̳̲̹̬̻̫̦̣̣̠̳̼͍͇̜̓͌́̚͜͝, and if you can a̵̘̜͇̱̽̌̇̅̐̏͗̑̂̽̊͆̏̒͝f̵̨̨̜̭̬̠̞̫̮̲̺̼̝̻̟͖̯̼͚͕̻̤̤͉͉̯̈́̾̈́͐͝f̷̟͓͖͔͕͎̥̖̝̞͈͆́̏̀͐̌̈̀̓̎͒̾̃̊̏͛̍͗͜ơ̷̡͓͙͓͚͙̪̖̻̣̞̹̻̻͇̫͓̟̹̔͌̑̈́͛̀̀̀̑̚͝r̷̢͈̝̝̲̼̦̺̜͔̲̳̀̈́ḑ̵̣̜̤̲̹̠͖̪͖͔̗̫̮͎̼̯͎͕̫̭̣͈̥̏ͅit," the figure says. You can't bring yourself to look away without some effort. You are keenly aware of his gaze. He does not seem like he's in the negotiating mood...

Į̴̧̘̹͙̘̲̤͖̔́͑͌̅̾̊͐̍͋̀̓̅̉̇̑̍͠͠ń̶̯͉̫̤̳͚̣̖̳̯͍̤͓̟͉̥̩̀͋̌ͅv̵̡̧̳̠̬̰̺͔̖̠̳̥͉͉̜͕̗͕̋̈͘ͅę̸̧̢̢̯̠̜̟̘̺̳̟̃̑͌̀̉̓͋͊̃̍̑̂̐̇̓̌͆̈́́͗̓͘͠n̵̡͙̲̞̰̭͖̠̮̺͊̉̑́͒̓͌̈́͐̅̚͝ţ̶̢̛̠̮̼͙͙̗̣̘͇̘͓͈͈̱̮̩̲̩̱̠͎͌̽̈́̒̍̎̀̋͗̇̔͊̇̀̀̋̈́͋̉́͌͜͝͠ơ̸̢̨̨̱̟̹̘̩̤̠͈͕̠̪̥̥̙̓͋̎͛̌͐̓̈́̐̌̂͂͑̋͘̚͜͝͠ȑ̴̠̬̫̻̠̘͔͖̦̰̩̖͎̜̞͉̘̭̙̮̰̹̙͔̳̬̱̆̎̍̿̌̇́̍̒͆͗̀͒͐͋̄̓͆́̕͘͠͝y̴̧͎̟̦̘̝̠̣̮̻̥̰͆͆͋͐͂̈́͊͛̈͋͆̊̇̄̾̈́̔̓̽͂̋̽̚͘:

• Small unfleshed thought- 2 /
  This bottle contains whispers of what has passed, what is passing, and what has yet to pass. It looks kinda like a firefly….
  
• Deer Dad's Blessing- 3 /
  Lets you become more like your favorite deer dad!
  
• Potion of Perception- 3 /
  This bottle of silvery liquid has a pair of glasses etched onto it… whatever that means.
  

D i m o s t h e n e s Dimosthenes kept staring at the strange man. Who was he, to come up like he should know him and make him feel so stupid and then ask for him to end him? The general feeling in Dime's mind was that this somehow shouldn't be possible. He was like a child, yelling about something unfair, something that didn't make any sense. He was entirely bewildered, lost--he was afraid. The paranoia rose like a thick worm crawling up his throat, cutting off his air. Something growled, and he stepped forward towards the stranger, thinking it had to be him showing the aggression. It took a few moments before he realized that it wasn't. It was him, so out of control over his own mind and body that he'd been growling without knowing at all that he was. He stepped back, his horror at what he had become suddenly visible. He closed his eyes and fought a silent battle against the screaming in his head. He collapsed on the ground with his arms covering his ears. 'No,' he thought stubbornly. 'No.' he would not hurt this man. And maybe it wasn't about being good or kind or even close to moral. Maybe it was just that he wasn't going to lose any more of his free will. Soon the voices softened and then fled entirely. Silence. He opened his eyes slowly, feeling suddenly clear, but empty. He staggered to his paws and his eyes held like magnets to the figure. He growled softly to try to hold onto his head and stepped forward quickly to take the potion with the odd circles and lines etched onto it, and leave three crystals in its place. "Speech"

Firefly Shoppe- Dimosthenes

You gain:

• Potion of Perception-- This bottle of silvery liquid has a pair of glasses etched onto it… whatever that means.
  

You lose:

• Currency (x3)- Used in Firefly's Shoppe, and perhaps elsewhere...