Nicora feels heavy. So much weight seems to just be hanging now. She can tell her other pairs of breasts on her chest have grown, and are pushing against one another for space. And below her hips things are just weird. It feels like her legs have fused together and swollen into a large sac. All of that goo being pumped into her must be going there. Her eyes are still sewn shut, but it would hardly matter given the way her head is locked in place by the feeding tube going down her throat and directly into her stomach, if not directly into her intestines.

Nicora somehow manages to make a gurgling sound as she attempts to move her head, even with the tube in place. Those hanging breasts ache something awful, it's a lot of weight just, pulling, and eight of them at that. She also tries to move her leg muscles if she can, though given her legs aren't in their sockets it may not do much.

Things sort of sway a bit when she tries to move things. She feels some sort of tendon that wasn't there before. Her dragon-head tail is restrained by being pushed up against the ceiling, but this feels like it from from past her butt up to the middle of her back. The all-too familiar, semi-ominous sound of Otto's swaying bucket can be heard now.

Oh great," Nicora thinks. He's probably coming to milk. Maybe it will reduce the pull and weight? Probably not, though. She also tries to focus and find, well, her 'wound' and prolapse, such as it is, is it still out too?

She can feel the humid air against it, so it's definitely still exposed. She can't hear the flies though; maybe they're afraid to be around Horribs. "Oh, yer awake dis time," Otto says. He moves the stool into place over the rough resin-coated floor. He tugs on the feeding tube, which begins to withdraw. It takes a disturbingly long time before her mouth and throat are clear. Both feel dry.

"Ugh," Nicora rasps, "How long is that thing? Gods, I feel fat." She then ends up coughing.

"Yer stomach isn't any more distended than usual," Otto assures, and then pats Nicora's belly. "Can you move yer boobs at all?" he then asks.

"Move my boobs?" Nicora asks, think that is rather an odd question! Before she answers, though, she, well, tries? At least focuses on them and tries to flex as if she had pectoral muscles.

Well, she has substantial pectoral muscles, being a flyer. Her abdominal ones aren't as cooperative. So she gets her primary breasts to bob a little, which sort of causes the rest to sway since they're all pressed against one another.

"Ugh, that feels funky," Nicora says. Still, she keeps doing it for a bit, seeing what she can get to move.

"Not bad," Otto says. Then he's squeezing and massaging the various breasts, and at one point sticks his face in them. "Sticky!" he claims as he pulls out.

"Sticky? With what?" Nicora asks. Her wings twitch as if she wants to touch herself. All she has left of appendages, really.

"Kinda clammy-sweaty, but more like frog-skin," Otto says. "How they feel? Any pain?"

"They feel heavy and a little achy from hanging, but nothin too bad. How big are they? I can't see them," Nicora says as she wiggles more to try and judge size by how they sway.

"About as big as the main ones, which are just a bit smaller than your head?" the rat guesses. "I can squeeze each in one hand," he says, and demonstrates to see if it helps Nicora get an idea. The rat's hands are warm, and it helps with the ache, mainly because of the temporary support.

"That feels good," Nicora says, though a bit disturbing when the lower ones feel as large as the top ones. "So, they're all the same size now? Do they still ooze?"

"Oh yeah, mostly same," Otto says, then hmms. "Yeah, gotta milk 'em. Might have to hold the bucket handle in my mouth though. Hold on!" Then there is the sound of him getting down from the stool and picking up the bucket.

"I want to taste what you draw out," Nicora says. She's .. actually curious what it tastes like at this point.

There's a bit of milking, starting from the top pair, before Otto places a wet finger against Nicora's lips.

The liquid is thick and tastes terrible. Almost like congealed blood, or something that's come up after indigestion. It also causes her tongue to tingle though, so there must be some benefit from it.

"Ugh," Nicora grunts. "It's awful. But I want a full drink when you can, my throat is really dry." It's the only thing available right now, alas!

"Drink? Well.. I guess it could be drinkable," Otto says. "It's just your blood, sort of," he claims, and tries to tip the bucket up like it's a big chalice so Nicora can drink.

And Nicora attempts to drink it, well, some anyway to soothe the dryness. And hopefully not vomit.

It's like drinking... something thick. But at least it's smooth, and coats her throat. Once she's done, Otto goes back to milking. He's not even a quarter of the way done!

But at least the dryness has eased! Even if now all she tastes is, well, bad. She runs her tongue around a bit in her mouth against her teeth while Otto milks her. It does help ease some of that ache since it lessens weight a little.

It doesn't lessen the weight by much though. It feels kind of nice at least, and Otto really seems to appreciate them. The lower breasts don't have the elongated teats from being milked so often though, so take more squeezing and stroking.

Nicora shudders, not wanting to think about that. So, instead she asks, "Er, how long are my nipples?" The difference in how she's being milked has now made her wonder.

"Which ones?" Otto asks around the bucket handle. He's head is pressing up against the main pair so he can get close enough to the others.

Otto has to pause for a moment. Then Nicora feels the tip of the rat's tail poke against her lips. "Open mouf a bit," he instructs.

So, Nicora opens her mouth some for that tail. It's certainly not the worst thing she's hard in it!

First, the tail pushes in about an inch and a half. Then it withdraws and pushes in an inch. Then it just goes in about a half inch, twice.

Nicora mph. Well, not as long as she was worried. She's not like a pregnant rhugrhat yet! She spits the tail out, saying, "Thank you, that was instructive."

"Thank you fer not biting," Otto says, still working the last pair. "At least you ain't got Fnerf-boobs."

"No, mine are more floppy and less .. bulbous," Nicora mutters. She wishes hers were more pert and less saggy! But at least his nursing does feel good, so she settles to enjoy it as much as she can.

Once the fourth set have been milked, the rat starts to feel along that must be.. well, Nicora's thorax? Whatever her legs have become. "New ones startin' to come in," he notes.

"Wait, what?!" Nicora blurts out and starts to squirm around in a futile attempt to feel, or see. Neither of which she can do.

"Just the nips so far," Otto claims, and pinches something which Nicora can feel, and it feels like a nipple.

"Umm.. two, four, eight.. uh.. lots," the Skreek says, possibly having reached his maximum number limit. "So far."

"Wish I could see my body," Nicora admits as she moves her head around some to test range of motion. "How do I look?"

"Well..." Otto says, with a long pause. "Kinda pail and worm-like. With scary arms and fingers. Not sure if you're gonna be wiggly or not. Still look like yer growing longer."

"How long am I now?" Nicora asks. "And that makes me sound like I'm starting to look like a long maggot."

"Well, maggots got little claws, so not really," Otto says. "Maybe.. uh.. size of an adult male Eeee, from head to toe so far," he estimates. "Still filling out sideways though. Back end sagging a bit."

"I haven't heard any flies or felt crawling on my wound. Have I been released from that curse?" Nicora inquires next as she wiggles her hips a little to make the prolapse move some.

It does move, and Otto notes, "No flies ri' now, but prolly because so much other stuff goin' on. Might be a limit or somethin'?"

"Can you, er, push that back in?" Nocora asks since it doesn't have it's usual fauna.

So, the Skreek tries to push it back in. Nicora feels other flesh sort of cover over things externally. Just how pudgy is she getting? "Try not to cough or nuthin'," Otto advises.

"Er, how fat am I getting?" Nicora actually asks. She even moves her head and jaws to see how much movement her head has.

She can twist her neck a bit, but forward or back is restricted. "Umm, I'm not supposed to answer that question about ladies," Otto claims. "Unless you give me examples I can say yes or no to."

"It's sorta in a sling but.. yes?" Otto replies. "Your shoulders are sorta nubby though."

Nicora rolls them a bit. "Feel around them so I can feel how my body is shaped," she requests.

"Alright," Otto agrees and runs his hands over Nicora's upper chest. Her collarbone feels loose, and the shoulders really are just skinned-over sockets, rather than nubs. Then there are Nicora's ribs, which feel the same as expected other than having the big breasts, which go down to her belly.

The sensations at her collarbone is ... bizarre. Why? She rolls her head a bit, and is at least relieved that she feels mostly, er, normal? "Rub over my belly some? How distended is it?"

It's a bit hard to tell. It hangs as low as the breasts, but it's difficult to tell how much her spine is sagging from being suspended for so long. It does definitely feel wide though.

"I don't think that's the goal now," Otto admits. "Nice boobies though. Just no legs. Eeee always have nice long legs."

"I hope Hosheb will still think I am pretty," Nicora mutters. She also wiggles where her legs were. "They're still in here, somewhere," she claims.

"Eh, Hosheb yer guy?" Otto asks. For someone that apparently gets his instructions directly from Gorphat, he doesn't seem to know much about the rest of the pantheon.

"Yes, he is," Nicora says. Which is sorta true, I mean, who else would have her? "Well, other than you." She grunts and twitches, "Gah, now I'm horny." Of course that's also from a Gorphat 'blessing' to torment her too.

"Prolly from pushing it back in," Otto suggests. "So, ready for the tube again?" he asks.

"Ugh," is Nicora's reply. "I suppose I don't really have a choice, so I guess so." She opens her mouth, even.

The tube pushes in. It's not clear if Otto is pushing it in or if it's doing it by itself. Of course it causes gagging.

Nicora glrks and shudders as she tries to steady herself and not, well, vomit. It does make her body ripple in weird ways.

At least her throat is lubricated this time. But it does make her stomach hurt. Then it starts to throb and pulse as the goo starts to pump through it.

Nicora winces. It's not long before she's back to feeling overly full. How long is this going to go on? How big is she going to get? She's already jiggly, she can feel it. The only good thing is ... food tends to make one sleepy, so she starts fading in and out.

Crystal Cavern
Midway between Rephidim city and Underside, this is one of the largest underground chambers on the island. Unlike many others, this one is lit not by rainbow crystal, but by genuine Sifran crystal, which culminates in a central stalagtite formation that gives the impression of a giant, flat-floored ballroom lit by a grand chandelier. Directly under the stalagtite crystal is a slightly raised round platform with a flat top.

Alptraum goes from artificial blindness to staring up at a kaleidoscopic display of colors. And he's not rock hard! Although someone is licking him down there.

"Well now, that feels nice," Alptraum says as he slowly sits up and then looks down at himself to see who's, well, licking him!

It's a bunny, unsurprisingly. A black one. By herself. She does look up and make eye contact with Alptraum, but doesn't say anything.

He reaches down and pets along her head. "By all means, keep going," he asks, grinning. He may not be hard, but that may soon change!

The doe is gentle, though her tongue is a bit dry. But she pays attention to all the little deformations and implants, working her way up towards the tip. More does start to file in while this goes on, and also an unfamiliar Eeee in a white robe. A Spirit Mage? There aren't any of the usual symbols though.

"And who are you?" Alptraum asks the Eeee while his hips start moving and he's now quite hard, and he's pushing into the doe's muzzle firmly, but gently.

"Just an undertaker," the woman says, with a surprisingly deep voice. Definitely Sylvanian stock to not sound squeaky. She watches with interest as the black doe climbs into Alptraum's lap. "Lots of Babelites on Rephidim, so I need to be familiar with the funeral rites of Sunala."

"And you've come to me? There isn't any funerals going on," Alptraum points out while he's buried a bit into bunny. It makes him shiver and gasp out.

"Not yet," the woman says ominously. Alptraum can see Mordecai arrive with his 'art' supplies. The bunny is moving slowly and deliberately, either wanting to take things slow or else really build Alptraum's ardor up.

"Hey handsome," Alptraum says to Mordecai, and winks. Did he really say that? Ugh, he's been in Babel too long.

The gaggle of does descend upon Alptraum then, making sure all of his appendages are engaged into feeling soft, warm body parts. One of them is even stroking his ears.

That makes Alptraum practically purr. Sometimes it's good to be who he is! He's got a harem right now. Sort of. Kind of. Or rather he's part of someone elses.

So the Lapis keep him suitably relaxed and aroused while other things happen out of sight. Including the sound of something being built, but that's hardly new. Before Alptraum can really think about out, a Lapi neck is pressed against his lips.

Do they really need to build something? It's not like he's fighting. Still, he's being offered a meal, so he bites right onto her neck and nurses strongly.

It's been awhile, and herbivores do taste best. Or maybe it's just the spiritual component? The does have a quite an age range as far as he can tell. He's certain some are older than he is, or else Hortense runs a very intensive training course. The undertaker isn't in sight, as much as Alptraum can see past the ears and bosoms. It does bring home that he's once again being restrained by the shear mass of bunny flesh.

But it's nice and soft, and has fun things to grope, poke in, and nurse on. So, there's a an orgy going on with lots of long ears sticking out in every direction.

"We're ready," Mordecai calls out. The soft, comfortable orgy breaks up, even the lap-doe! Alptraum is lifted up and carried by the harem now, with his suddenly exposed, damp bit feeling a bit cold as a result.

"Awww! I wasn't done!" Alptraum complains, loudly. Still, he doesn't fight as he's carried, and he's even got a cold little flag in the air.

And it's not like he's carried far. It's just that he's put down in a rather cramped wooden box. Or more accurately, a casket.

A foot steps on Alptraum's chest and pushes him back. The undertaker! "Don't worry, this is just for... effect," she claims. "And so you don't move during the tattooing. Or would you like a paralytic?"

"I feel like you're not going to give me a choice," Alptraum replies as he looks up at the undertaker. "You do know who you're messing with, right?"

"Yeah, one of the shinigami, or reapers, or whatever else the Barsunala is," the woman says. "But see, I'm not dead so I really don't need to concern myself with any of that right now. I have bigger issues to deal with, and you're here to help me."

"I could make you dead," Alptraum retorts in annoyance. "But fine, let's get this done."

"I'd rather just have a nice night's sleep," the woman says. The smell of alcohol means Mordecai is about to wipe down the tattoo surface.. and he does. This somehow makes Alptraum harder. Has he been conditioned? "At least I'll help you finish, though. Not sure if that's enough incentive for you to keep still or not. If it is, say so and I'll lift my foot off of you."

"You could sit where I could lick your gate," Alptraum counters and pokes out his tongue. "I'll behave for now, though." He doesn't admit getting to see Mordecai again is also part of why he's harder. Why does he like and lust after that Eeee?

Instead, Alptraum gets's a view of Mordecai moving things around, and taking out his needle. The ink is black, but still glows, at least to Alptraum's sight. "Going with the Grave this time, no need for anything fancier," the albino artist notes.

Alptraum reaches up a foot and pets Mordecai's chest. "I'm all yours," he says. Boy, he's in a weird mood.

"You always have been," Mordecai notes, and starts stabbing Alptraum's member with a needle-brush.

That reply gets Alptraum's brow to arch. And then the pain starts! So he grits his teeth and just breathes.

Meanwhile, the undertaker starts to do... a dance? It's almost like a belly-dance, but not until she removes her outer robe. She's got pants and a blouse on underneath. This is Rephidim, where showing lots of fur or skin isn't the norm like it is in Babel. Her shirt has ruffles on it. It makes Alptraum think of pirates for some reason.

"You look a bit like a pirate," Alptraum even says through gritted teeth. Still, it's amusing to watch! He's not known many Rephidim Eee, really. They're quite different. "You're Sylvanian. Vampire?" he asks.

"Sylvanian, yes," the woman says, and raises her dark glasses to show glowing orbs. "Vampire, yes. It is acceptable here, if only barely. There is a place in the bazaar, the Sylvanian Market, where one can... get a taste of home." She starts to untie her blouse from behind her back.

"I'm Sylvanian too," Alptraum notes, and bares his fangs. "And a vampire," he adds in Sylvanian for the heck of it. "It has been some time since I have been there, though."

"Are you sure?" the woman asks, baring her breasts. They're white, while the rest of her is brown. With the dark nipples, they look almost like giant eyeballs. "You never really leave Sylvania behind."

"That you haven't been there in awhile," the woman says. Her pants are black leather, and tight. Should a mortician dress like that, even if she does have her hair up in a bun? She has to turn around to in order to wiggle them down her legs, so Alptraum gets a good look at her butt. The food up here must be rich, even for a vampire. She's pretty curvy.

"Well, I've sort of been there in spirit, I suppose," Alptraum waffles a bit as he watches. "You do not look like an undertaker, at all," he says while staring at her butt.

A needle brush hits one of Alptraum's implant spots, making his butt clench! sp "I normally wear a somber dress," the woman claims.

That makes Alptraum squeak! And makes him look down at the work being done. "Why are you dressed like you are now, then?"

The ankh shape is about half-finished.. the loop is done. "Because I'm not at work," the woman says peeling her pants off of her feet, one at a time and then turning back around. "So, what do you think?" she asks, putting her hands on her hips.

"You need to add some jewelry to your gate and nipples," Alptraum teases and grins a bit up at her. "But you look lovely even without them," he adds, "But I'm a bit, ah, occupied in certain ways right now to fully appreciate you. And I will also have to show my thanks to the artist as well, of course," he adds. "Going to be fun, though..."

"If I wore jewelry, people would accuse me of stealing it from the deceased," the Eeee woman claims, and covers her nipples with her hands in an act of sudden self-consciousness. "I do have a necklace with the grave hanging from it." Something Alptraum also has just not on him at the moment.

"I enjoy my work, but thanks are appreciated," Mordecai notes, as he switches brushes.

"Not the kind of jewelry I have in mind. It's hardly common," Alptraum points out, then twitches! Ugh, that needle is uncomfortable, and wants to squirm. "I have to ask, though, why the dance?"

"To keep you rigid for the Artist," the woman says. "Unless you prefer the bunnies? They probably dance better than I do," she admits. "I've only ever had to tempt unwelcome spirits."

"I don't know, I still prefer my own species generally," Alptraum admits, "Female or male. Both are fun in different ways."

"I would hope they'd be different," the mortician says. She puts her hands back on her hips and rolls them back and forth. "Are you familiar with Eeee burial rituals?" she asks.

"The ones for Babel, yes. Sylvania just burns the dead," Alptraum notes. "I do not know the ones for Rephidim."

"A mix, depending on what the family can afford," the woman says. "Open-air mummification is illegal here, so it's sarcophaguses and crypts on estates, also a few crypts in the graveyards but those are legacy affairs. Burial space is at a premium, so most end up being cremated. The import thing is that the proper rites are performed."

"Well, any Babelite Eeee would say cremation is not a proper rite at all," Alptraum points out. "Defiling the remains is not welcome. But, different places require different practicalities. Anyway, why am I here?"

"When the proper rites aren't performed, we get ghosts," the woman explains, and turns to show Alptraum her rear. "Spirits that don't realize they're dead, a form of undead. This isn't a good place to be a ghost, since they can be captured or dispelled by Spirit Mages, or go sour and turn into problems."

"That happens everywhere," Alptraum says, and nods. "I've met a few over the years."

"In Sylvania they can usually be caught in a family shrine," the woman says. "I've never seen one myself though. Anyway, there are some ghosts that need to have their last rites done, but I can't see them or get them to cooperate either. I don't know their names, which is kind of important."

"And you need me to get their names?" Alptraum asks. He then nods a bit downward. "Not sure how this plays in. Not that I mind him touching me, but."

"Oh, I need a bit more than that," the woman says. "Umm, I need them to be sort of materially present, which only you can do, since I don't know where their remains are either. Having their remains would make it easier, but anything could have happened to them. People that die alone somewhere tend to get eaten by vermites."

"Or cannibals," Alptraum remarks dryly. "Or quite a few other things. How do you want me to get them materially present?"

"You just have to give them some of you.. ah.. essence," is the reply, as the woman points to where Moredecai is working. "As the Barsunala you should be able to do that."

"No, no you did not. I have no desire to die, thank you," Alptraum remarks with narrowed eyes.

"Although I think the mark is to help you find them, mostly," she adds. "Like a compass needle. Oh, it's only a little death. That's what I'm supposed to help with."

Alptraum's left ear twitches. "And when is that supposed to happen?" he asks. "Am I to be denied time with the artist too?"

"Well, I need to prepare for the rituals," the woman says. "So.. not right away? I just need you to be at full strength when the time comes. Can you physically leave this chamber?"

"I didn't use to be able to, but I'm not as sure now if I could or not," Alptraum admits, rolls his shoulders in a shrug. "But I imagine I can be at full strength when the time comes. Did you need me to try and go somewhere?"

"My workshop is adjacent to The Morgue, so I can collect what I need and bring it here," the woman says. "The atmosphere here may be better suited for ghosts, after all."

"So, you'll want to do it here, then? Well, I know I can be here, at least," Alptraum laughs, then ows! And has to look down, that hurt!

Looking down lets Alptraum see the blood and the slight bruising, which is the only normally visible sign that something's been done. At first it just looks like there's a cross, but he can feel the circle part of the symbol wrapping around just below the head. Mordecai takes out the alcohol-soaked rag and starts to clean things up.

Alptraum winces and inhales deep. "How deep did you go?" he ends up asking in a hiss as alcohol is applied.

"Feels deeper, ow," Alptraum complains. "That will need a little recovery time, yes."

"There is an ointment that will help," Mordecai says. "I'll let the does tend to that, and will back in a bit."

Alptraum lifts a foot and drags down his chest. "You better," he growls. Gah, what is with him? Why is he lusting after that weirdo?

"I'll return when I'm ready," the mortician says. "I'm Hulda, by the way. I have a twin named Hilda, but she's still in Sylvania, training Shrine Maidens."

As soon as Hulda and Mordecai are out of sight, the does slap a lid on Alptraum's coffin, and secure it with straps. It's not a complete seal though, as there's large hole in the middle for easy access.

"Hey!" Alptraum complains. "This is a bit restrictive on my fun!" He thumps around in there!

Soft hands reach in through the porthole and start to massage ointment into Alptraum's abused skin. At the same time, he feels the coffin being lifted up and marched around. The massager must be riding on top.

Alptraum blinks. On one hand that does feel kind of nice. On the other, this is really disturbing. It's not that comfortable in here! "Where are you taking me?" he demands.

"Shhhh," one of the does responds. "To you rest of course," another says. The dais isn't that big, so the must be circling inside the perimeter. "We'll stop when your ache stops," the massage doe says from above. She's also massaging sections that weren't tattooed the symbol of the Barsunala, which tingle instead. "Just focus on the massage," she urges.

"But you're not going to let me out, are you?" Alptraum asks. His head shakes a bit and just settles in for the weird ride. The massaging does feel nice at least, so he just, well, enjoys it for now. He might make some happy sounds, too.

The pain begins to ebb, and blood flows back again now that it's not going to leak out. The massager switches to stroking, but still uses the tingly ointment. "How is the pain?" she asks.

"Getting quite a bit better. The places that didn't hurt tingle oddly," Alptraum explains as reflex makes him roll his hips some in the stroking.

"Ah, good," the massage doe says, and Alptraum's coffin is finally set down. It doesn't feel like it's on the floor though this time. The straps are undone and the lid is lifted off after the massage doe gets down.

Alptraum sits up a bit and looks around, trying to see just where he is since it didn't feel like floor was involved this time.

The coffin is resting on some sort of platform. There are two big flower arrangements at the head and foot, although the flowers are all black and white. Arrayed on the floor to Alptraum's left are the kneeling does, each wearing a black veil. It's the first time he's seen them wear anything. The black doe is also standing near the head of the coffin, but isn't wearing a veil.

Alptraum's brow goes up a bit. "Ooookay, this is a bit weird. Not just weird, rather freaky," he as to admit as he rubs the back of his neck. He looks up at the black doe from where he sits. "Why are you standing and they are not?" he asks warily.

"I'm the officiant," the doe claims, and gestures to the closest doe. "You may now pay your respects to the departed." So the first doe rises, and approaches the coffin.

Ooookay, that implies something weird is definitely going to happen. He almost argues he hasn't departed, but he's quickly distracted by the doe that approaches. He lifts a hand and wiggles his fingers at her.

The doe gestures for him to lie back. The black one reminds, "The platform isn't all that sturdy, so keep things.. gentle."

That makes Alptraum snort a laugh as he lays back. So, what exactly are they going to do ... ?

The first doe makes a wailing sound, and sort of throws herself across the coffin. It's just so happens that her breasts smush into Alptraum's face when she does it.

The doe squeaks, but holds her position while Alptraum nurses. Since this is taking a while, the next mourner approaches and licks his shaft for a bit, before kissing the tip.

Well, that licking gets him to let go after a bit! It is rather distracting, after all.

Some go for a kiss, and one decides to play with his genital jewelry for a bit. As always, they go about everything in a sensual manner.

And he's expected to just lie there and take it? It's hard not to squirm, or thrust. Or, well, erupt. That sensation comes and goes depending on what they're doing.

Finally there's another lick, but this time the tongue is long enough spiral around and down to the root before dragging itself off.

Alptraum blinks! His head lifts up to see who that was! It also elicits quite the surprised and enjoyed gasp.

It's Mordecai, of course. He's wearing a black bowtie, and a veil that only covers his eyes. It's also the most Alptraum seen him wear. The tie is pretty loose, at that.

"Heh, well, hello to you too. Mourning me as well, are you?" Alptraum teases as he tries to play with the bat's ears.

Mordecai allows his ears to be played with. "It's a popular roleplay at The Morgue," he explains. "Sometimes I get to play the corpse for a grieving 'widow' who wants one last romp with her husband."

Alptraum chuckles. "Well, I'm certainly not complaining. I enjoy romps with you too," he comments and relaxes for now, eyelids closing a bit as he enjoys the sensation. "But I thought I was to show you appreciation."

"Well, how do you want to?" Mordecai asks. "The harem can fetch any props you'd like."

The albino quirks a ring-laden eyebrow. "Hmm. I could get in the coffin, while you try to raise me though the hole," he suggests. "I see that the bottle of ointment is still half-full."

Alptraum hmms, taps his chin. "That could work, yes," he admits. Plus it means he could get out for a bit! It's kinda claustrophobic in there! He sits up and actually kisses Mordecai right on the lips for a bit. It's only when he breaks it does he start to climb out.

Mordecai is a good kisser! He then takes Alptraum's place in the coffin. He even crosses his arms over his chest like a proper corpse. "Here is the dragon oil," the black doe tells Alptraum as she hands it over. "For his dragon, of course." She smirks at her little joke.

Alptraum smirks and waits for things to settle before he approaches. He liberally coats his hands with that oil, as he admires the bat in the box. His hands slide in and now it's his turn to massage a dragon, of a sort. Tattooed a bit like one, and heavily studded, even more than he is. His ears also flush hot as he can't believe he's doing it. And yet, he isn't stopping either.

The black doe is there to give him pointers. "Don't squeeze or pull when it's limp," she says. "I know there's an urge to just play with it, but you want to start off with a light touch. Like you're finger-painting with the oil."

Alptraum does have experience! Just not much while, well, himself. So, he listens to the guiding, slow light draws of fingertips to apply the oil, following all the decorative patterns on his 'dragon'. Also to circle and trace out the bumps, too.

Despite Mordecai not moving or barely breathing, the dragon begins to stir and wake up with a stretch, as it were. This makes things a little easier.

Alptraum continues on, slow strokes to help things awaken. This shifts into curled finger strokes after a bit. And before he even realizes it, he's leaning over and coiling his tongue all along the waking dragon just like the albino did to him earlier.

This gets the dragon's full attention, and it's soon standing and twitching. All while Mordecai himself makes no sound or movement. How many times has he done this? In the background, the does have left. That's probably not a bad sign.

Alptraum's ears flick back. Why did the does leave? That does make him worry a little. Though soon that worry abates as he continues to kiss and lick the dragon. His hand stays busy too as it's playing with the parts that hang below the dragon. And soon, the dragon finds itself enclosed in a toothy cave ... that moves.

Mordecai has impressive restraint, as he continues to remain motionless. It's as if all of his life is now in the dragon. Alptraum feels the black doe kneeling down in front of him, under the platform that the coffin rests on. She's making sure he doesn't go off prematurely while still staying aroused. This involves making certain that his testes don't draw up into firing position, via a gentle yanking down on things.

That does tend to make Alptraum shift around some, it's a bit distracting! Still, he tries to keep up the worship of the dragon and not think too much about what he's doing. Done it plenty of times in many forms. Just ... usually female. Still, they all know he's weird here, and don't even bat an eye about him doing this. His tongue is squeezing a bit like it's a snake at this point.

It feels like it's pushing back against the pressure. "Don't forget to apply the oil," the doe reminds him. "It will make things last longer. Or make things longer at last. One of those!"

So there's shifting up between the dragon being in a cave, or being caressed by many small serpents (with claws). There's even a point where he puts some oil on his tongue and tries to apply it that way. What could go wrong?

This makes his tongue feel weird and tingly, and a little numb (it's also a painkiller after all). But he can still control it! "Whatever you do, don't swallow any of the ointment," the doe warns, though she can't actually see what's going on from her position.

Alptraum thinks that's good to know! So doesn't swallow until he's sure he's gotten it off his tongue. Which just means he has to be slow and careful. Also occasionally looks up to see if the bat is moving at all when he does.

He sees Mordecai's chest slowly rising and falling, which is more movement than he's seen before. Did his ear just twitch? A nostril flare?

"I bet you'd like to have me in nothing but a collar, and on a leash at your feet, in all sorts of forms," Alptraum teases before kissing the tip. Then his tongue curls tight and slithers down as the cave returns, which firmer jaw clenches and head movements.

With his tongue slightly numbed, Alptraum can't feel how strong the pulse is on dragon right now, but it's definitely twitching, and beginning to drool a little. Probably about to roar then!

Alptraum has to make a decision, and pushes his muzzle as far down as he can. Movement now is kept to tongue and mouth clenching. His ears fold back, hot as he feels really embarrassed, but he can't stop himself, either.

The dragon roars several times, but Alptraum can breath through his nose, which is filled with Mordecai's scent. Eventually the dragon stops.

Alptraum somehow manages to stay in place, and not drool. Which means a lot of, well, swallowing. And when it's over, he stays there for a bit, just inhaling the scent for a good minute or so before he does finally let the dragon out of the cave.

"You didn't swallow any ointment did you?" the black doe asks as she keeps stroking Alptraum to keep him ready for action. Mordecai finally stirs and sits up. "That certainly was enjoyable," he says, smiling toothily. "And less bruising than when the mock-widows have their way."

Alptraum shakes his head. "Not to my knowledge. All I swallowed was ... him," Alptraum admits, feeling really embarrassed now. That often happens after he gets through what he wanted, and is faced with the truth. "Thank you for humoring me."

"You have a good tongue technique," Mordecai says. The does are setting down the boxes nearby, and Hulda eventually appears carrying a box of her own.

"What are all the boxes for?" Alptraum asks. As for his technique, he admits, "Well, I was taught by a Yodhinala."

"My supplies," Hulda says. There are also some pillows, which probably came from the club and not Hulda's shop. There's a rolled up rug as well, which the does that were carrying it unroll. Did they just go out naked to do this? Maybe it's night time on Rephidim.

"Did you actually go out naked?" Alptraum asks as he looks about. He also sits himself in Mordecai's lap while they set up, and tilts his head to the side, offering him a meal should he want it.

Mordecai does sit up and take a bite. "What? I didn't go out naked," Hulda says, wearing her robes. "Oh, the bunnies? They were wearing veils to protect their identities, I think."

"I'm not sure they ever wear clothing," Alptraum admits while he's fed on. "Do you?" he asks one of them.

"We're fluffy," one says, and runs her hands up and down her fur. "And we're indoors. So why wear clothes? Then you'd have to wash them!"

"Sometimes we wear costumes," another speaks up. "You mean you aren't always naked?" the black doe asks.

"What do you usually wear?" the doe asks, while Hulda lights candles and sets out various clay jars and figures while muttering to herself.

"Depends on what body I'm wearing," Alptraum claims. "Usually though, just trousers and a loose shirt."

"But with holes cut out, right?" the doe asks, as Hulda announces, "I think I'm ready here."

"Cut out for what?" Alptraum asks. Then he's got to detach Mordecai from his neck and slide out of his lap. "Where do you need me, then?" he asks Hulda.

The woman sort of gestures at the pile of pillows. "Here should be fine?" she asks uncertainly.

Alptraum saunters over and flops himself down into the pillows, making them floof out around him. He grins up at Hulda.

Hulda fidgets a bit, then starts to disrobe. "So.. I see you're all warmed up and ready," she notes. "But I might need a little help, if that's alright?"

"We do have plenty of fluffy bunnies?" Alptraum teases and gestures. "And you didn't seem like you needed warm up earlier. Or do you not spend much time with others ... ?"

"Not a lot of potential dating partners for a mortician," Hulda claims with a sigh. "And I avoid the regulars of The Morgue, as they seem to be more interested in the mortician part than the Hulda part." She's probably not much older than Alptraum, but has stained fingers and is generally 'big' for an Eeee. Maybe coming from Sylvania carries its own stigma as well. At least she doesn't stink like Mage Rostre.

"You just need to change your appearance some when you go out and don't talk about your job," Alptraum notes as he shifts a bit closer and starts tracing with his fingers. Another Sylvanian Eeee makes him think of Rose and then the pang of having not seen her in a while digs into him.

Hulda doesn't have Rose's beauty, or dark coloration. "It has to come up at some point," she notes. "Most of the other morticians are Jupani." Her nervousness is in her voice. Of course, there is one way to get her in the mood and quell her nerves, if she isn't afraid of vampires.

Or the aura of one that could gut you like a fish and play jump rope with your intestines. "It's not like being associated to the Goddess of death does me much favors, either," he points out as he leans in, his teeth soon grazing her shoulder. "Or being a vampire," he adds, then bites.

Hulda gasps at the bite, but doesn't flinch away. "The b-bunnies seem to like you," she notes, and gives one shiver before relaxing. "I've always wondered about vampires.."

"The bunnies are all crazy and they have an owner that's scary," Alptraum mutters as he settles in and carefully nurses on her. And he adds to it a bit by using a little bit of shadow in a semi-kenning to ramp up the sensation.

That makes Hulda gasp again and start to melt, despite her heart racing things getting a bit damp. "Uhhh.. the romance novels were right.." she babbles.

"Well, I'm cheating a little. You won't get this from just any vampire," Alptraum murmurs and pushes the shadow a bit more so that it feels hundreds of little internal tongues. And totally not like squirmy-worm-parasites.

"What.. is.. uhhh," Hulda tries to say, before the power of speech fails her. She's running her hands over her body now, and then reaches for Alptraum's rump.

And he draws back the shadow at that point. "That," he says. "And don't worry, I wasn't eating your life." And soon he's feeling her up gently, squeezing, testing. And when he stops going for blood, he foes for lower, more chest level, with perky peaks to nurse on.

"Oooo, that's nice too," Hulda says warmly. Eeee breasts are often just ignored after all. At least for more most Eeee. She pets Alptraum's head, then starts playing with his long hair. "I like your hair," she says. It's longer than hers is, after all. "I'm going to need you to drink something once we start, if that's alright."

"As long as it's not poison, sure," Alptraum comments between switching breasts. And back to nursing he goes!

There's a pause. "It's not strong poison," Hulda says. "More.. recreational poison, from mushrooms. It's good for out of body experiences."

"So you're going to make me loopy and crazy," Alptraum notes as he detaches. "Just realize I can turn you into a vermite if you mess with me and lie..."

"Why would I lie?" Hulda asks. "It's stuff I've taken myself. The local apothecary sells it to Mind and Spirit Mages, supposedly. Although now his shop is run by a Savanite and a Skreek."

"And those are the two most crazy mages. I know a few. All of them loopy," Alptraum claims. "And surprisingly have not tried to kill me."

"Well, as long as you're sane there shouldn't be any problems," Hulda says, before warning, "Just don't talk to the dancing goblin if you see him, or he'll follow you around. And if you don't know what a goblin is.. well, you'll know if you see him."

"I'm a monster," Alptraum points out. "My form changes regularly." And as he says that, the monster's fingers slide between her legs, and then a couple through her gate.

She's definitely ready. She also kisses him abruptly when he puts his fingers into her, grabbing on to both sides of his head to do it!

"Mph!" comes the ever intelligent reply to being suddenly snogged. It also causes him to wiggle those fingers about and curl them.

There's activity around them as the bunnies go to work. Things are moved around, pillows are positioned and incense is lit. Hulda breaks the kiss with a gasp, and says, "Alright.. all right.. uh, you have to lie on your back now. Oh gods, are you ready, or is it just me?" she starts groping around Alptraum's groin.

Alptraum is ready, so to speak, but he's always ready for more getting ready. Or something like that. He also laughs as he pulls his own hand back as he does finally lie back.

It's very soft. Partly from pillows and partly from bunnies. Once he's in place Hulda carefully lowers herself onto him. "Oooo.. that's.. quite nice isn't it?" she comments, and wiggles her hips about to find just the right angle. A pair of bunnies watches over the Eeee, to make sure she doesn't make any mistakes. Another presents Alptraum with a little black bottle.

Alptraum oos and wiggles his hips too. It's nice to be inside, and have someone else inside. Both sides are fun. So are goddesses, even Gorphat, who is admittedly his favorite for such activities, though he'll never tell Inala that! The bottle, though, gets him to lift his brow a little. "So, I have to drink this and die, do I?"

"Not really die," Hulda claims, as she starts to slide back and forth. "Just enough that the Little Death frees your spirit to move around."

"I do that already," Alptraum points out, "It's sort of how I'm here." He does take the bottle and peer at it a bit longer, then lifts it up and downs the contents. It's after he gets back to rolling his hips some again. Snug and slick, mm.

The liquid in the bottle has no flavor. Not even water flavor. But he's sure he swallowed something. As Hulda and he sync up their hip action, the space around him seems to get.. fuzzy, and not in th e rabbit-fluff sort of way. It gets darker as well, his field of vision shrinking down to just himself and Hulda. He still hears the others, and the openness of the chamber, and smells the incense though.

He also hopes it's not canceling out the other sensations! He ends up making some odd sort of faces too as things get fuzzier and his eyes dilate. "Okay, that feels funky," he claims. In a nice way, at least, not the usual weird he gets.

His focus really seems to narrow down. He can't feel the pillows after a while, but all of that lost sensation has just moved to the bits that are already pretty stimulated. It's not up to Inala levels of sensation yet, but Inala didn't suck up all the other sensations into it.

And it's less squishy and wrong-feeling that Gorphat is. At some point he just closes his eyes and rolls his hips, his focus only on that place and the sensations going on there. He might be moaning, but he really has no idea.

Sound does seem to be fading, and with his eyes closed he begins to feel his center of consciousness move. Down to there. He's really feeling inside of Hulda now, and Hulda is speeding things up.

The feeling of being reverse born sort of sets in, which is extremely disturbing when it comes down to it. Not that he can stop what is going on, though. Nothing like getting a chance to feel things this intimately.

But things can contract further yet. Soon it's as if he's being compressed just in the most sensitive part, collapsing into a very intense point of sensation.

He's squeak if he could! What exactly is going on here? This is extremely unsettling!

Things are getting more and more focused. This is worse than Inala's mind-melting pleasure. It's almost the opposite, since his mind is super-focused and the pleasure just keeps building and building. How much long can this go on?

I have no body and I must scream? Or something like that. The intensity is to the point he wants it over with! It's reaching the painful level!

And then he explodes. Or is the explosion. He's certainly moving.. and keeps on moving, right up through Hulda and out the top of her head. He can see himself below, and boy does he have a goofy expression. But he isn't stopping! Up through the ceiling of the cavern, through the rock and sewers until he finds himself in an alley. He's got his body back, and is looking out over what must be the Bazaar. But the people are all blurry phantoms, with just stalls and other structures looking solid. "Who are you?" comes a scared voice from behind him.

"A moldy piece of bread," Alptraum retorts, possibly in reference to the idea of having bad dreams from eating spoiled food. He does try to slowly turn around to see who said that, though.

There's someone way back in the alley. It's dark, but she still stands out clearly. An Eeee girl or woman, curled up behind her wings. Wings that are full of holes.

Alptraum tries to move towards her. "The bigger question is who are you? And why do you still linger?" he asks. "I should be more serious, I suppose. I'm the Barsunala, and was asked to come here to help find those unable to rest."

"I'm.. uh.. I don't know!" the girl claims loudly. It's quite a wail, coming from an Eeee. "Nobody remembers me, so why should I?"

"Because you should. If you remember yourself, others can remember you," Alptraum suggests, and reaches out a hand to her.

This girl retreats further into her wings, and says, "You're here to trick me! I'm not going to be tricked again!"

"Who tricked you before?" Alptraum asks. "Did someone abduct you? Kill you?" For the moment, he stops reaching towards her.

"It was.. was.. uh.. Skreeks? Maybe," she mutters, her muzzle down in her wings. "They brought me here, and.. did they give me something? It made me feel floaty. Really good. They did stuff with me. With my body. I wasn't really there. Then they took my clothes and everything and just.. left. I could barely move." She starts to look angry, and growls, "And then the Vermites came."

Alptraum winces. That's a nasty way to go. He crouches down a couple feet away. "What about your parents? Did no one come looking for you?" he asks.

"I can't remember anymore," the girl wails again. "There wasn't anything left. Not even bones. It took days, but nobody looked here. Everything going on outside. Nobody else stupid enough to go looking into an alley."

Alptraum looks around, trying to get enough to be able to describe this place. "Well, I'm here now, and I can help you leave this place," he offers.

"Leave.. for where?" the girl asks. Her hair falls over half of her face, so Alptraum only sees the one brown eye looking at him over the edge of her wings.

"A place to rest. One of the undertakers wishes to help all those who have been forgotten and lost to find rest. She just needs my help to make them ... more, so that she can help them," Alptraum explains. He's actually not sure where she intends to send them.

"More?" the girl asks, dropping her wing a bit. Half of her face is gone. And not from having been eaten exactly. It's like the edges of her flesh are very slowly burning, with the tiniest wisps of smoke curling away.

Alptraum keeps his hand extended, palm up. "Your essence is fading away. She wants me to replenish it with my own," he says.

This time the girl tentatively reaches out with what's left of one hand. It's mostly skeletal, with the finger bones beginning to blacken and smolder. "As long it ends," she says.

Alptraum does reach out and take that offered hand, his fingers closing gently as if holding something very fragile. "All things end," he murmurs.

He feels his hand burning a bit, but the girls hand is reforming in his grip. Bones whitening and flesh 'unburning' as smoke seems to flow into it. It doesn't feel like it's taking anything out of him though, but he does feel the mark on him glowing.

"You need to remember who you were. And your family. It will help the undertaker perform the rites that will help you rest," Alptraum claims as he continues to hold that hand lightly. His other hand reaches out to caress her where her face was.

Brushing aside the hair, Alptraum feels were her cheek used to be, as it starts to return again. Where the smoke is coming from is anyone's guess though, unless it's just some sort of time reversal effect.

Memory, perhaps? We are all, after all, the sum of our memories. "Do you remember why you went with the Skreeks? Or ate what they offered?" he asks. Was she desperate?

"Not just Skreeks," she says, brow furrowed even as it reconstitutes. "An Eeee boy that I liked. They were having fun, sort of singing and dancing."

"He was part of the group that used you?" Alptraum asks. These people need to pay for what they did, after all.

"Maybe?" the girl says. "It's hard to remember. If.. if it was even real. They ate it too, the magic.. magic something. They might not remember doing anything," she rationalizes. "They'd have come back if they remembered, surely."

"Maybe. Or maybe they pretended to. Wouldn't they have also been unable to move if they are the same thing?" Alptraum asks.

"I dunno," the girl cries. "I don't want to remember that. I don't want to relive it again, whatever it was." Her head is mostly back intact now, both eyes open and working. There are still holes in her wings and probably elsewhere as well.

Alptraum draws the girl closer until he's hugging her, and coiling his wings around her. "For things to end, you have to come to terms with it. Peace," he says as he pets along her back slowly. Crying is good. It's a release.

So the girl cries, and is nearly invisible in the flood of smoke flowing to Alptraum's wings. Eventually it begins to thin though, eventually stopping. He was able to actually feel her fill back out while hugging her. The crying diminishes, turning to sniffles. "I don't remember crying," the ghost claims. "Just being angry."

"Did you grow up on the streets? Crying can be seen as a weakness, so anger is more common. It's survival instinct," Alptraum says while he continues to hug her. "I'm sorry all this has happened to you. I wish I could undo it, but all I can do is help you find peace."

"Streets. Streets. Little Babel. That's not.. the streets, I don't think," the girl says. "Little Babel. Little Babel. LITTLE BABEL!" she repeats, louder and louder. Almost hysterically.

"Yes, that's where most of our kind tend to live," Alptraum says as he holds her tight while she grows in what seems panic, trying to calm her. "Is that where your parents are?"

"I don't know!" she wails. "I don't know where I am now! I just know the name."

"That's a start," Alptraum says, "We just need you to remember slowly. Perhaps your name will come next." He pets on her back to try and calm her down.

"Does it really matter?" she asks as she calms, pushing her face into Alptraum's chest. "Won't it hurt?"

"It matters. You are someone's child. Someone that may not know what happened to you. They need peace, just as you do," Alptraum says. "And besides, as long as you are remembered, you are never truly gone. And even if there is no one left from your past, I would like to know your name so I can remember you."

That makes Alptraum huff a bit in amusement. Close enough he supposes. "What do you remember? What's your favorite food? Favorite song?" he asks her.

"Food?" she asks in confusion. "Oh.. something in plum-sauce," she claims. "Some kind of.. beetle. The green-shelled ones. I don't.. I don't think I've seen live ones. I didn't go to market."

"Why didn't you go to the market?" Alptraum asks, trying to gently nudge her memories.

"Money," she says and looks surprised. "Something about money. I.. couldn't hold onto it?"

"You spent it too easily?" Alptraum inquires. "Bought stuff before you got what you were supposed to?"

"I liked.. uh.. shows," she says, sticking her tongue out a bit as she furrows her brows again. "Singing and.. puppets."

"Oh, where the ones who brought you here some of the performers?" Alptraum asks.

"N-no, I don't think so," she says, looking out towards the light of the Bazaar. "Just.. boys I knew. The brothers and.. and.. nnnngh!" She starts clawing at her scalp in frustration.

"Relax, don't force it. Just tell me about the brothers," Alptraum suggests as he reaches up and tries to take her hands to stop her from clawing at herself. "Start with them."

"The brothers.. they were twins," the girl recalls. "Had red hair. Real, too. Everyone called them.. uh.. Redcaps. Redcap Brothers. Not from Little Babel. No. From.. in farther. But came to the Bazaar a lot."

"Yes, Skreeks, but, no they didn't have any talent," she says, a bit more coherently. "They had adventures. Yeah, adventures. They'd tell stories. Without puppets."

Alptraum nods. "And they were friends of the boy you liked? What did they call him?" he asks.

"Wuh," the girl says, trying to focus. "Wo-jo. Wojack!" She looks up proudly. "Wojack! From Little Babel."

"And what did Wojack call you? Remember his name. Remember him talking to you," Alptraum encourages.

"Wo-jo called me.. hmm.. princess," the girl recalls. "He was my knight, and protected me from the mean kids."

"I don't think we were wealthy," the girl says. "Wo-jo would yell and chase them off. Sometimes they threw things."

"Nearly a grown up, like me," the girl says, and then pauses. "I think I loved him. I'm not sure. I wanted to be with him forever though."

"Oh, numbers.. I don't do numbers," the girl explains. "I can't do lots of things. I can't even talk."

That makes Alptraum blink. "You can't speak? But you are talking to me now," he points out.

"I.. didn't," she says, biting her lower lip. "I couldn't learn the finger talk. I.. couldn't learn anything. Not even clicky clicky. I couldn't think good."

Alptraum's ears twitch. Taking advantage of a child, and one that was already ... damaged, is beyond awful. He's trying to not get mad now. "You couldn't? Was it always that way or did something happen?"

"I think it was always," she says. "Not wealthy. Fixing needs magic. Oh.. right magic.. that was the whole idea."

"The brothers found something, something magical," she says, in a bit of a daze. "I can't.. I can't always tell when I'm awake and when I'm dreaming. They were gonna fix me."

Alptraum nods. "But then why did they leave you?" he asks. "They weren't doing lewd things, which was what I first thought. They were trying to help? But then why did they leave you? Do you remember what happened?"

The girl makes pained sounds, and pushes away from Alptraum. The alley fills with shades, vague outlines of figures. The girl goes to the wall and scrapes at it, and Alptraum smells blood.

Alptraum tries to watch the shades as he moves toward the girl. "They can't hurt you again, not with me here," he says, softly. "I can protect you from these memories."

"I don't want to remember!" she wails, but falls to her knees and tries to grab onto one of the shades. There's streak of blood visible on the wall now, and she's trying to pick someone up, wailing and crying.

Alptraum kneels down by her. "Wojack?" he asks, again softly and wraps a wing a bit around her. "Did ... you kill them? Did what they gave you drive you crazy?"

"It was so bright, and loud," the girl says after she calms down a little. "They brought me here where it was darker and quieter. They were feeling ill. It was something they found on the grounds of the Magic School. Growing. They had tried a little and it.. expanded their minds, they said. So.. it would expand mine to normal. I ate more, and they did too, and.. we got sick. We couldn't move, but I felt like I was."

Alptraum nods slowly as he resumes petting her back. "Did they die here too? With you?" he asks.

"The others, the Skreeks that said we were.. something their territory," she recalls. "Angry. Because we didn't have any more of the stuff, or wouldn't give it to them. They were arguing. They picked up Wo-jo and just.. just broke him against the wall. Just like that! They beat up the twins, and then saw me, and did things. And took everything and left me and Wo-jo and dragged the brothers off."

Alptraum closes his eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispers to her. "You deserved a better life than that. And no, it's not your fault, nor the twins, and not Wojack's. It's only the other Skreeks fault. The ones that attacked you. You did nothing wrong. There was nothing wrong with you."

"I couldn't tell him anything," she says. "Your name.. tell it to me again?" she asks.

"My title is the Barsunala. My name is Alptraum," Alptraum says, softly. "I'm the last many meet when their lives end. I help them to rest."

"Alptraum bar Sunala," the girl says, and turns towards him. She holds out a hand and says, "I'm Zintiel. Zintiel.. Baker. We were bakers."

Alptraum takes her hand and draws it to his chest. "I am honored to meet you, Zintiel," he says and offers a sad smile. He also reaches out with his one free hand to the shade of Wojack, and tries to feel if any of him remains. If he died here too.

It's just Zintiel's memory that Alptraum feels. If Wojack is also lost, he's probably trapped in his own version of the alley, separate from Zintiel's.

Alptraum breathes out, slowly. "If there was something you could say to Wojack, what would it be?" he asks her.

"That I loved him for always being there to protect me," Zintiel says. "I wasn't supposed to go out. But when I did, he was there. At first he took me home, because of the teasing. I never got far, because I couldn't fly without running into things. Then as we got older, he'd just stick next to me when I wandered. I liked to watch the bards and puppet shows, even if I was too old for them. I could understand them. I don't know how he felt about me though."

"He cared for you. That much is clear. Not in the sort of physical wants and urges, but in the way that truly mattered. And he tried to protect you, even at the end, without worrying about what could happen to you," Alptraum offers. "I'd call that the truest form of love. He wanted you safe, and he wanted you to be happy. He watched the shows with you, didn't he?"

"Yes, he always did," Zintiel says, with a fond look on her face. "He didn't clap or laugh when everyone else did. I think he liked the bards better. He would dance. I have two left feet. If I tried I'd trip over them."

"I bet he picked you up and held you off the ground when he danced with you," Alptraum says, "Just from what little you have told me of him, it seems like something he would do."

"I don't know how long I was fading away for," Zintiel says. "Or what year it was. Or any specific events of note."

"I understand. Do you remember the names of the twins? Other than the Redcap brothers," Alptraum asks. "And is there anything you would want said to them?"

"Ugh, names," Zintiel moans. "Finn? I think one was Finn. I'm sorry. I only know my parents as Momma and Poppa. But I'm pretty sure about Finn. He.. he would waves his hands around a lot when he told stories. The other made noises, or did voices. Zzzzz. Zach? Maybe Zach."

Alptraum nods. "Tell me about your parents. What were they like? What are your greatest memories of them?" he asks.

"Bread!" Zintiel says quickly. "I got to help sometimes, with the kneading. Always the smell of baking bread. And pastries!" She clutches her hands to her chest, and closes her eyes, taking in a deep breath. "Lots of other people, non-Eeees, would put in special orders. For things like cakes and eclairs and fruit pastries."

Alptraum nods at this. "With your permission, would it be okay if I sought them out some day? And is there anything you would say to them?" he asks.

"I'm sorry for making it hard for them," Zintiel says. "I understand now. They couldn't afford other children because of me. I hope they did have more.. but they were old, like you. Even older. I loved them though, and I know they loved me. I'm grateful for the life they gave me."

"Is there anything that would make them know the message came from you? Something only you and they would know?" Alptraum asks next.

"Oh. Well, they only let me knead the dough because I tried to cover myself in flour," Zintiel says. "Almost got it all, but I couldn't do the insides of my wings. It wouldn't stay like in my fur. And there were the times I'd refuse to wear clothes in the house. Or when I got my head stuck in a bowl of porridge. I also used to rub myself a lot when I was little. I'd rub on the rolling pins and Momma would be furious."

Alptraum laughs softly. "You sounded adorable," he admits, sadly. Then there's a pause. "Rub yourself? In what way?" he has to ask.

Alptraum covers his face. "Oh," he says, "I see. Because it felt good, I imagine."

"Well, males are built differently there, but yes," Alptraum admits. "And you normally only do it with others you care about."

"I grew out of it eventually," Zintiel claims, taking her hand away. "I think Momma thought I'd hurt myself."

Alptraum nods. "And it's, ah, not something people want rubbed on their bread," he adds, trying to not be too, ah, crude about it.

Alptraum winces. "I'm sorry, that's awful," he says. "Did they hurt Wojack in a similar way?"

"They just.. killed him," Zintiel says, and sniffs. "It was.. all jumbled up. The magic plant made everything weird. More weird than I usually saw things."

Zintiel looks back at the blood stain on the wall. "They stomped on him after bashing his head in. They were joking about him being made of twigs."

"Eeee are usually not built very sturdy. Because we can fly, we need to be light," Alptraum says as he looks towards the wall, sadly. He was hoping maybe he survived, but no, it's unlikely.

"You can find him though, can't you?" Zintiel asks. "He's probably waiting for me!"

"Yes, I probably can. I know where he passed, and that should allow me to find him," Alptraum says. "I should speak to the undertaker about both of you, and try to bring you two together as you are laid to rest."

"Oh, that's right, we're dead," Zintiel says, a look of realization crossing her face. "It's hard to accept. I've been dead all this time, but I don't feel dead anymore."

"Because of me. I am strengthening your memory. You," Alptraum says, "Because you need to be you, and remember, to be properly laid to rest and in peace."

"I'm sorry my memory is so mushy," Zintiel apologizes. "Even what I do remember is hazy." She looks around the alley again, then asks, "What happens next?"

"I need to take you back to the undertaker that started this effort to help the forgotten," Alptraum says and extends his hand again. "Walk with me?"

Zintiel hesitates. "I guess I can't stay here forever," she says, and takes Alptraum's hand.

"There are better places you can be than here," Alptraum says as he gently closes his hand. There's a light tug as he walks towards the alleyway entrance. "I wish I could undo what has been done, but that is beyond my abilities. All I can help do is bring peace."

"Maybe I can try again," Zintiel says, as they step out of the alleyway, back into the crystal chamber. Hulga is still mounted atop Alptraum's body with her eyes closed.

"Well, that's not something I see every day," Alptraum admits at the odd sight. "Hulga, I'm back and I have one of the lost with me."

The black doe is there too, and actually sees the spirits. She helpfully nudges Hulga, who blinks several times. "They're back," the doe tells the undertaker. "He's brought a young girl Eeee with him."

"Oh! I need details!" Hulga says, and gestures to one of the other does to bring her a heavy looking ledger. "Name and time of death," she requests.

"One killed by street gangs in an alley. Her name is Zintiel, the daughter of bakers," Alptraum adds to that. "I can't tell you the exact time, though, as she doesn't remember either. She had some skreek friends called the Redcap brothers, and an Eeee friend named Wojack, who was also likely killed at the same time."

The black doe relays this information, and Hulga starts paging through the book. "Baker..." she mutters as she looks through the records, going backwards in time. "Is there a last name for Wojack?" she asks.

"No, that's all she knew him by," Alptraum says, sadly. "It had to at least be a couple years. She was an only child."

"She only knew her as momma. In life she was mentally challenged," Alptraum admits. "She couldn't even speak."

"I've got her, I think," Hulga says. "Zintiel Baker, born 6080 to Mavra and Teskal Baker. Her mother passed last year, which why the name was familiar. Her father is still alive, so may have kept some personal effects. I don't have a record of when she might have gone missing though."

Alptraum looks at the ghost. Her mother is gone, how will that affect her? "How old was her mother at the time of her passing?" Alptraum asks. Then he asks Zintiel, "Do you remember how old your mother seemed the last you saw her?"

That gives Alptraum pause. "Oh," he says, sadly. "Too many people were hurt in that stupid war."

Zintiel, looks at herself. "I'd been bleeding for awhile." She looks to be in her late teens, if the spirit is body-accurate.

"She was late teens, so that would have put her dying around 6097? Somewhere in there," Alptraum says to Hulga.

"I can confirm that with the father," Hulga says, making some notes. "Let me prepare the anchor," she says, before pulling up off of Alptraum.. who is still rigid. She opens a box (that looks a bit like a small casket) and takes out a fired-clay figure of a female Eeee. She uses a glass-tipped tool to start engraving Zintiel's name and birthday into it.

Alptraum looks to Zintiel while Hulga works. "How are you doing?" he asks of her.

Zintiel is looking up the 'chandelier', and says, "I feel bad that my mother died before knowing what happened to me. Maybe I can find her."

"As long as you remember her, you should be able to. Memories are like anchors for those we love," Alptraum says gently.

"There," Hulga announces, and pops the head off of the figure, revealing it to be hollow. "This is a srinala-jar, sort of a miniature shrine. I need you to put her into it, Barsunala. Just like it was a real srinala. Hopefully there will be some personal items to add to it later."

"Well, are you ready? We need to prepare your place of rest now, with you in it. And then she'll go speak with your father to get some personal items to help draw and ease you to rest," Alptraum says and squeezes her hand gently. "I won't shift you to the container until you tell me you're ready."

"Well, you might see me again, I deal with those passed pretty regularly," Alptraum says with a smile. "So in my case it's entirely possible."

"Alright then," the ghost says. "Try to find Wojack if he's still out there too, please," she requests, and then goes to the jar. "How do I get inside?"

Alptraum walks up behind her and hugs her. "Just relax," he requests as he holds her. He focuses on how she 'feels', and on the stories of the Procession and such from his childhood. He envisions the girl as a star, a bright point of light, of memory, dreams, and hopes. "A star, how all parents tend to see their children. And if he can guide her into that shape in the palms of his hands, he will in turn then place that light within the jar by gently setting it in through its opening.

Zintiel begins to shrink and glow. Apparently bright enough that even Hulga notices the light now. Eventually the spirit becomes a curled-up form in his palms, almost egg-shaped from the way the wings wrap.

"Rest well, little one," Alptraum says as he carefully places that shape within the container, his hands brushing against it lightly. "She wanted to tell her parents she was sorry for always being a burden to them," he tells Hulga. "And that she always loved them, and to thank them for everything. She also asked me to try and find Wojack, who died defending her from a gang."

After the doe relays this, Hulga says, "I'll be sure to let her father know. And Wojack may be one of the other lost ones. You said they died together? So he may be in the same location, spiritually."

"May be. No remains there, the vermites took care of that a long time ago," Alptraum says, sadly. "I didn't see him while I was there, but I'm not sure I could, since it was a place of her creation."

"Traumatic death can do that," Hulga agrees. "You should be able to find him now though, since you know his name and his connection."

"I'm not quite sure how I get back there? Do I just walk through the door here and I may end up there," Alptraum asks. He also looks back at his body. "And I look really silly like that, I feel like I should tie a little flag on it."

After the translation, Hulga kneels down at Alptraum's body.. and starts doing things to him with her hands. "Hold on, this should do it.." After a minute, the black doe pushes her aside and mutters something about amateurs, and then uses her fingers, tongue and breasts.

Alptraum watches this and wonders, is that what he looks like when he's a girl and doing stuff with a guy? It's also giving him pangs of desire to do it, ugh! Or that, to Mordecai again.

It's odd to see his comatose body twitch and make a weird expression. Then there's an eruption, and Alptraum finds himself being blown away through the ceiling again. At least the alley is familiar. It's a little clearer too. Zintiel's body is fresh looking and uneaten, but there are shadows around it. The crushed body of Wojack is there as well, and the ghost is trying to pull and beat the shadows, but his hands pass right through them.

"Those are just memories of a time past, Wojack. I'm sorry," Alptraum says, gently. "I've helped Zintiel travel to a place where she will rest. She asked me to come find you too, if I could."

The boy screams and takes a swing at Alptraum. "Stay away from her!" he cries in frustration.

Alptraum tries to catch his hand. "She's gone, Wojack. At least in this place," he repeats. "Look at me, please."

Wojack's hand becomes more solid when Alptraum catches it. Wojack looks up, and says, "I don't know you."

"Well, my title is the Barsunala. I help those that have passed on find peace," Alptraum says as he slowly lets go of that hand. "I was asked to help find out what happened to some. Lost in Rephidim. Zintiel was one of them, I found her here, crying and pleading for you. In this place she could talk, when I know in life she could not."

"This is a place of your own making, a space and moment in time when you died," Alptraum tries to explain. "She was in her own too. Both of you were here and not here at the same time. And both of you dearly wanted to help the other, but could not cross the divide. But that's where I can help. For better or worse, I can guide the dead to where they need to be."

"Where is she now then?" Wojack asks, looking into Alptraum's eyes. "And she can talk? She's all better? She doesn't remember.. this?"

"She remembers this all too well," Alptraum says, sadly. "And she can talk now because it's ... easier as a spirit to do so, she was no longer confined to her body. She was ... upset over what happened to you when you tried to defend her. She wanted to apologize to you, and thank you for all the times you took her to the puppet shows she loved so much."

Wojack starts crying, and turns to bang his fists against the wall where his own blood forms a streak. "We were so close! It was gonna fix her! Then those damned Fingers showed up!"

Alptraum almost tells him it wouldn't have, but it's not worth it; better to allow the lie. "Life ... doesn't always go the way we want. And it's not your fault, or hers. Only the fault of that gang," he says and puts his hand on the boy's shoulder. "You were her best friend, and she knew that. She always wished she could have done more for you, and just talk to you. You made her feel like a person, and wanted. That's rare, you know. She had a hard life, but it was you that made it much brighter. You and her parents."

"She was my little sister," Wojack says, calming down. "Not by blood but... sometimes that doesn't matter. And the twins too. I'm just remembering them now. They got hauled off."

"By the gang. Redcap brothers, right? Do you remember their names? I do not know if they survived or not," Alptraum admits.

"Finn and Zach Bookbinder," Wojack says, looking unfocused for a moment. "Not from the Bazaar. They lived in the city proper, inside the walls. By the colleges."

"Ransom maybe," Wojack says. "Or they knew them somehow. They came to Little Babel for my family's beetles. Would resell them to the mages or something."

Wojack rubs the back of his head, and doesn't notice when his hand comes back bloody. "Really? That long?" he asks. "Do my parents know?"

"I imagine they know you went missing, but not what happened," Alptraum says. "I was called to specifically help find those who were lost."

"Lost," Wojack says, and looks at his crumpled body. "So we were never found? Just.. rotted here?"

"Then the twins must be dead too, or never got the chance to tell anyone," Wojack says sadly. "They wouldn't have left us here."

"Or held long enough that by the time they could tell someone, there was nothing to find," Alptraum offers. "Or threatened into silence by the gang."

"Lots of ways to make people disappear," Wojack says with a sigh. "And these guys are probably dead by now."

"Well, the undertaker would know given you know their names. She can find out if they disappeared too," Alptraum offers.

"Undertaker," Wojack says, shaking his head in disbelief. "You aren't supposed to meet the undertaker, being dead and all. I'm dead. Zintiel's dead. It makes me angry, but I can't really feel angry now."

"Well, technically speaking I'm the reaper," Alptraum notes. "People don't really want to meet me, either. For the obvious reason."

"But we're supposed to meet you first," Wojack says. "So.. do you take me off to wherever now?"

"I take you to the undertaker, who will help collect the items needed to let you rest in peace," Alptraum explains and extends his hand. "It's also where Zintiel is now."

Wojack takes Alptraum's hand. "I'm sorry I was so helpless in the end," he says.

"Zintiel said the same thing. Both of you did all you could do for each other, ant that's all that matters," Alptraum says as he guides the boy toward the alleyway exit. "Is there anything you would like passed on to your parents?"

"I want them to know I died trying to defend her," Wojack says. "I hope they'll be proud of that, at least."

"I'm sure they would be. Not many would have done that," Alptraum admits. "And ... what is your last name? The undertaker will ask."

"Oh, too bad," the boy says as they pass through and back into the crystal chamber. The black doe waves to them as they appear. "Holy.. those bunnies are naked!" Wojack says. "Is that the undertaker? She's naked too!"

"Yes, that's the undertaker. And remember, Zintiel is here and probably can hear you," Alptraum says to try and get the boy to behave himself. "Wojack Etymol, died in 6097. Parents were beetle farmers," he tells Hulga.

The black doe pokes Hulga and relays the information. "Ah!" she yelps, then goes through her book to find the birth records. "Looks like both of his parents are still alive," she reports.

"Was he in the list of the lost, then?" Alptraum asks, "And can I, uh, bring Zintiel back out for a bit?"

"No, I just have the birth and death records, and knowing the year helps," Hulga explains. "And.. I suppose that should be fine while I prepare the second jar."

So, Alptraum goes to the jar and tries to bring out the star-like curled spirit. "Hey there," he says to it gently, "Someone is here to see you. It's been too long since you've been apart."

Zintiel reforms from her egg-like state. "Wojack!" she says, all smiles. "I'm so glad you aren't lost!"

"Wow, Zin, you really can talk!" Wojack says, almost laughing, and then the two hug.

Alptraum steps back to just let to two lost friends reunite. "Tell Hulga that sometimes the best way for people to rest is to find their closures. I think this should help the both of them," he tells the doe.

The doe explains this to Hulga, who pauses in her work. "I suppose ghosts are spirits who don't find closure," she says.

As for the two spirits in question, Zintiel is talking non-stop, and Wojack is happy to just listen.

"It's as good a definition as any. It's often the unresolved issues that make one restless," Alptraum says as he just watches the two talk. "She has a lifetime of things to say to him now that she can," he says a bit sadly, though also smiling.

"They weren't lovers then in life?" the doe asks. Hulga keeps looking over, since she's only hearing half of the conversation.

"Not in the sense of being naked together, no," Alptraum admits, "Though I suspect one would have wanted to be."

"Ah, probably too late now," the doe says. "Unless you can get them into Inala's afterlife."

"That is a weird afterlife," Alptraum claims. "I'm not sure they'd like it there, but you never can tell."

"I have the new jar ready," Hulga announces, setting it down and popping off the head. "Are.. are they going to want more time together? I suppose they're anchoring each-other in this case."

"Do you two want more time together?" Alptraum asks the pair. Also moves closer to them to try and get their attention.

"That should be fine," Hulga says. "Miss Midnight can keep an eye on them while you look for the next ones."

"You can for a while, yes. That reminds me, are Zach and Finn Bookbinder on the list? Those are two of their friends that were pulled away," Alptraum asks.

"Bookbinder?" Hulga asks. "That isn't a Little Babel family. Can you give me some more information?"

"They were skreeks, their parents worked near the college," Alptraum answers. "Good friends of theirs."

This leads Hulga to open another crate, full of more ledgers. "Do you have their names?"

"Oh, right," Hulga says. "Trying to find.. ah, Scholars Quarter from the sound of it." She flips through, noting, "I hope my predecessor kept things up to date. All of the undertakers are supposed to exchange records when things.. er.. need updating. Geneology is tricky. Not all of it is public record after all."

"Yeah, some people have a problem keeping it in their pants," says the poster child of that problem.

"More that nobles have their own system, which is private," Hulga says. "And don't get me started on military record keeping." She pauses on a page, then flips a few more. "Same birthday? Twins?" she asks.

"I don't see any date of death entries for them," Hulga says. "Are you certain they're dead?"

"No, we're not. Which is why I ask," Alptraum says, then looks to the two spirits, saying, "Your twin friends are not recorded as dead."

"Neither were we," Wojack points out. "I just don't think they'd have left us there."

"Can you follow up with their parents?" Alptraum asks of Hulga. "And find out if they're still alive or not?"

"It will take some time," Hulga says. "Folks aren't always happy when an undertaker comes calling, but I'll find out.." She's then interrupted by a sharp whistle from Midnight, who is summoning over another doe. They whisper for a bit, and the second doe runs off down the tunnel.

"What's going on?" Alptraum asks, looking towards the direction the doe ran off.

"What kind of records?" Hulga asks in surprise, then waves her hands and says, "You know what, I'm better off not knowing."

"So you have records of weird stuff in the Bazaar and Darkside?" Hulga asks. "As.. casual reading?"

The errand doe eventually returns with a large tome. Of course it would be a tome, bound in leather of questionable origin. It also has '6097-6100' embossed on the spine.

"Okay, now I'm officially creeped out," says the spirit of the Barsunala as he looks at that tome. "I can't touch it, so one of you has to look."

Midnight opens it up, and each page is some story of something weird or horrific, or both. People vanishing in the old graveyard, stories about sewer cannibals, and so on. She finally stops on one and asks, "What was the name of that gang?"

"From the area of Darkside called the Fingers, I presume," Midnight says, and reads from the story. "While it was said to be the work of a rival gang, 'probably Kavis' according to the reports, the Skreek gang known as the Fingers was found dead in their hideout. No wounds or signs of violence were found, and many of them were in the middle of eating, having sex and in one case using the latrine."

"Okay, that's creepy. The two I ask about were not part of the gang, though. They were taken by them," Alptraum clarifies.

"While no mages were brought in to examine things, one who was asked about the circumstances suggested it was a Death Curse, a forbidden form of necromancy. Or possibly just a Chaos spell gone awry."

"Both equally likely. Probably paid for by some family they hurt," Alptraum says.

"Doesn't talk about their loot, just that it was all Skreeks and they were all dead," Midnight replies. "If your friends were there, they authorities may have just assumed they were with the gang."

"That's.. the same day," Wojack says. "They must have had something else, maybe something the gang wanted, and it went bad."

"Well, you did mention they found some stuff on the chaos campus," Alptraum points out. "So, probably related to that, yeah."

"So they died with the others," Wojack says. "And nobody knew. Just.. a bunch of dead Skreeks."

"Or they were let go after they got what they wanted, and before they died," Alptraum points out. "We still don't know they died there, no proof of their hats or the like."

"I'm just saying to not jump to conclusions, but I can try to look for them," Alptraum offers, "To know for sure."

"The original building was burned down by Arch Inquisitor Melchizedek maybe.. five or six years back," Midnight says. "But that probably doesn't matter to ghosts."

"Not really, there are spaces that act as echoes and memories," Alptraum notes, "But I also have other work to do here. Who are next on the list for me to locate?"

"Well, I don't know," Hulga says. "That's the thing. I don't know until you find them and bring them here."

"You found Wojack when I asked you to," Zintiel notes. "Maybe you could find our friends, too?"

"Maybe?" Alptraum admits. "I guess I can try. Usually there has to be some sort of echo for me to latch onto. How did I originally latch onto Zintiel? What did you use as the link prime?"

"I thought it was just Barsunala magic," Hulga admits. "Like you'd just be drawn to them automatically."

"Well, then they must have been the closest. Now that I have something to associate it too, I may be able to find that place, then, or them. I can try at least," Alptraum offers.

Midnight mounts Alptraum's body, and starts doing her magic motions. Wojack and Zintiel are fascinated by this. "Is that how it works?" Wojack has to ask Alptraum's spirit.

"That's how they trigger it," Alptraum admits, "I'm not entirely sure why. Possibly to just mess with me. Or it involves the flow of 'life' or some-such, and this is symbolic/sympathetic magic."

"What does that mean?" Wojack asks. But Alptraum's body is beginning to twitch again. Without his consciousness to try and hold things back, his body is pretty short-fused.

"It means I don't know how long I can live. Just longer than normal Eeee," Alptraum replies quickly.

Things come to a head, and he's soon flying through the ceiling again. He doesn't even get to enjoy it!