There is a whirlwind of sensation as Shiva is at once healed of whatever affliction had been caused by the undead by, only to be burned by holy light. Breaking away from the creature's grasp with Caio's help, Shiva turns back to face the group, looking specifically to Astrid. 

"I knew you had it out for me, Silverscar." She smirks to denote that she's merely teasing before stumbling forward into the bowels of the ship. Her head darts feverishly from left to right as she searches for signs of life in any of the stalls, her panic and anger mounting as she passes by nothing but empty beds and filthy chains. As she reaches the end of the rows, she realizes that there are no captives to be found. Her thoughts are muddled as she draws in wet, heavy breaths. Exhaustion cannot extinguish her rage, and she falls to her knees in the hallway that, only hours earlier, was nearly the site of her death. 

The voice of Shiva's Other comes to her, but it is indistinct, and Shiva begins to strike the floor boards beneath her with an aimless fury. Punching and tearing, she quickly makes a sizeable hole before standing and beginning to tear through the walls of the stalls as she screams in anger. Only once she has come closer to her allies does she stop, the tears now silently streaming down her face. In her anger and grief, she pays little attention to the undead that reaches out with its claws to rend her anew.  

    "Look out, Shiva! That thing still has a taste for you!"

    The tiefling's rage-filled tantrum provides an opportunity for the ghoul slash at Shivala's back. However, Astrid flicks the winding stem of her pocket watch causing the hands to spin around its face. Holding her holy symbol toward her companion, the tiefling's form shimmers for a moment and then three images of Shivala can be seen. The ghoul's claw passes harmlessly through one of the images created by the cleric of Brightmantle. 

    "Shiva, hon, can you please focus on the thing that's trying to kill you?!" Astrid shakes her head as the tiefling bangs fruitlessly against the floor.

Shiva feels the claws narrowly avoid her back, and turns around to fall upon the creature as her rage is reignited. There is no technique to her assault, no thought to self-defense or decency. She tears through the creature's body with the primal strength of a wounded animal. She grunts and snarls as she rips apart limbs and organs, till little is left but a pile of flesh that could hardly be recognized as human. Standing above her work, she swallows to find chunky, viscous fluid slide down the back of her throat. She thinks that she may have gagged were she not so beside herself. 

Taking a few steps back, she falls into a seated position on the floor, staring at the puddle of human remains. She can feel the presence of her Other like a warm arm around her shoulders. "You did everything that you could. This isn't your fault. You fought for these women." Shiva chuckles to herself. "Then why does it still feel like I failed them?" 

The back of her throat burns, and she feels as though tears will flow again, but the pain fades and the tears don't come. She stands and looks to her friends with the fatigue of the hopeless. "Let's get out of here."

    Astrid relaxes as the threat has been taken care of. The dwarf dabs her brow with the sleeve and releases a breath. However, as their companion tears into the ghoul with no abandon, she has to fight the urge to spill her last meal on the floor as the sickening sounds of the tiefling devouring echo through the lower hold.

     "Come now, Shiva!" Astrid says, turning up her nose and her color looking off. "That can't be good for you! We don't have to eat everything that we kill." Pinching the bridge of her nose, the dwarf sighs with resignation. "Yes. We should get back to abbey."

Shiva smiles, reassured by Astrid's familiar disposition. "That was an accident. It was very gross."

Rising back up to the deck, the light given off by Énbarr's mane illuminates the gloom of the night. Around the nightmare lies nothing but piles of ash where mangled bodies once were. Approaching her mount, Shiva's sadism injects a little legerity back into her. 

"I hope that you ate well. We will leave this place now, I ask you to set this ship ablaze as we depart." 

Climbing atop the demon horse, she's momentarily overcome by the horror, disgust, and hate that had filled what should have been a pleasant evening. She had been so happy at the start of this day. All she wished for now was to forget that any of this had ever happened. And to obtain the strength to make sure that it never happens again.

The longboat can be seen burning on the river even from a great distance on the ride back to Paragon. By the time the abbey comes into sight once more, dawn is nearing.

"Shiva, dear, perhaps today you can seek respite within the halls of the abbey instead of between the legs of a woman. You look like shit and we can't afford another of your outings." Caio chides as they near the abbey. "We did run a gang of traffickers out of their city, maybe they'll show us divine gratitude."

"I guess so, and I definitely need to bathe. Maybe there's a nun who'd like to help with that. Plus I'm hoping they have a library on the other planes at the abbey, I'd like to find out more about Vudra and the Abyss." Pulling at the blood and bits of viscera in her hair, she flicks what she can get off onto the ground as they walk.

"I'll be the first to say that what we just went through was ****ed. Thank you guys for having my back. All I want now is a decent meal, a warm bath, and to sleep for 10 cycles in a soft bed."

Though the shadow elf does not sleep, rest is his priority. The chase and confrontation have left him winded, and once within the walls of the abbey he finds a quiet place to enter a trance. He hopes this will leave him feeling grounded and reenergized. But as he closes his eyes and slips deep within his own subconscious in search of clarity, Caio instead finds someone else's dreams.

Demons surround them, their forms wavering, more so impressions of demons. The setting is even hazier beyond the mob of fiends as the focus remains tightly on the combat at hand. Ling and Alaris cut into the enemies with glowing blades, Nikolai lays into them with arcane blasts. But these are not the Ling, Alaris, and Nikolai that Caio knows. These are their others. And in this dream it is Caio Cypherien who is the passenger. He watches from the eyes of Caio the Shadowhunter as his lithe, brown skinned body twists and twirls through the air. He too holds a glowing blade in one hand, but in the other is a weapon Caio has never seen before. A weighted, mace-like head on an extensive length of chain... a meteor hammer. Other Caio wields the weapon masterfully, whipping it around his body, launching it like a cannonball through the demons' chests or sending it in wide decapitating arcs. Fascinated, Caio relaxes and watches his Other dance, beginning to enjoy this dream in spite of himself. The Shadowhunter spins the hammer rapidly then fires it through a demon's skull. The chain goes taught as he reverses the momentum, spinning backwards, the chain wrapping around his body then flinging out to impact another foe. The other Shadowhunters are lost in the blur of movement. Demons move to surround him on all sides but none can come close for the deadly storm of metal that surrounds him. Launch - kill, spin - kill, reverse - kill, duck, fling - kill, spin- Caio freezes. He's turned not to face a demon, but to face... her.

Twisted red locs spill out of a fur lined hood. Heavy make up is smeared around her deep brown eyes. Wine red lips pop against umber skin. She is protected from the tundra cold by black and grey leather. They stand on the frigid plains of Necorath. This is the last time he saw her. Idita Heart stands there, half smiling, mischievous glint ever in her eyes. But she is frozen, motionless. It's not by ice but by the effort of his memory. He strains to hold on, to preserve this moment like a painting.

"You know, I'm mostly into guys but damn, I get why you're so caught up on her."

Caio twirls, the intense emotion he is feeling immediately combusting into anger. His Other now stands apart from himself, the three figures are all that remain in this new setting. "I want you out of my ******* head! NOW!"

The Other sighs. "You think I want to be here? Look dude, I'm not trying to be a backseat driver. I stay quiet because I know that's what you prefer. It's what I would prefer. We're pretty different but... we're similar in a lot of ways too. We always know what's best, for ourselves and others. Right?"

Caio Cypherien offers only silence in response, fuming, onyx eyes boring holes through his human counterpart. 

"Right. Having a voice yapping in your head is not what's best for you. But I don't think fighting to keep me out is helping the situation either. I'm here, and I'm stuck until you and your friends can figure something out. I didn't pay much attention in any of my classes so I'm not gonna be much help there. As for your... other issues," he glances at the frozen memory of Idita behind the elf. "Well I have thoughts of course, if you ever wanna talk I'm here but," he shrugs and raises his hands. "Ultimately I know you've gotta work that out yourself.

"Are you working towards a point or are you simply proving yourself a liar by continuing to yap?" Caio spits back.

This elicits a smirk from the Shadowhunter. "What I'm saying is, we don't have to be best buds but maybe there is some way we can work together. Be a little more... harmonious. I have a feeling it would make these dreams a little less jarring."

The inquisitor glances back at Idita, closes his eyes in pain, turns back and lets out a sigh of resignation. "Perhaps." He glances up at the clear grey sky, dark eyes distant in thought. "That weapon you wield, the... meteor hammer, was it? It's beautiful."

Now his Other gives a true smile. "Isn't it? With your combat style I'm sure you'd be a natural at it. Doubt you'd be able to find one where you're at now but it wouldn't be too hard for a blacksmith to make.

Some hours later after eating and bathing, Caio emerges from the abbey into the late morning streets of Paragon in search for a blacksmith.

Blacksmiths are plentiful in Paragon, although their wares are generally smaller than that which Caio is used to. On a square near the abbey, the elf finds a stocky gnome with a sizeable nose and a long, white beard hammering away at something on his anvil.

“Hello there.” Caio crouches low into the man’s forge, trying to appear friendly despite his gloomy persona but likely just coming off as uncomfortable. “I’m looking to commission a weapon, something a bit unique.” he says, eyes searching the space for any bludgeoning weapons that could possibly be converted. “Something like a flail but with a much longer chain. Might something like that be within your wheelhouse? Perhaps something you’ve already crafted could be altered…”

The gnome looks up from his anvil and gives Caio a penetrating stare.

"Got chains," he says affirmatively in a gruffer version of the lilting Littlewood accent that has become so familiar these last few days. "What exactly d'ye want on the end of it?"

“The head of a small mace, something round, light enough to throw but heavy enough to crack a skull with enough momentum.” he says. “And the chain should be rather light and flexible.”

The gnome tilts his head left and right as he thinks over the problem, before plunging the red-hot piece of iron in his gloved hand into a bucket of oil with a sharp hiss. He beckons Caio into his workshop and they talk through a few different weights of chain, but the usual standards are all too heavy for what the elf has in mind.

"I can do it," the smith confirms with a slow nod, "but it'll take a few days. You in town for long?"

"At least that long, probably." he sighs. They still have the issue of the doppelganger to investigate among countless other loose threads, and knowing Shiva it will only take a day or so before they find themselves in yet another mess.

The gnome nods grimly, before naming his price.

"Half now, half on delivery."

Alaris Forien rides through the dawn streets of Paragon, watching the halfling city come to life as bakers fire up their ovens and smiths stoke their forge fires. Zadkiel's hooves thump into the packed dirt, providing a steady rhythm for the aasimar's thoughts. Alaris watch the others make their way into the Abbey before they lean in the saddle, leading Zadkiel away from the gates. The warhorse snorts in annoyance but walks on, letting the bogatyr avoid what they fear will be uncomfortable conversations with Abbey leadership. Then Alaris groans at themselves and mutters, "You're right - let's get it over with." 

They head for the stables and begin taking off Zadkiel's saddle and tack. "I just don't know, girl. I don't know whether we find trouble wherever we go, or if we BRING trouble wherever we go." They fall silent as they run a heavy cloth and then a curry comb over the horse's body. "I wonder if our very strength invites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict… breeds catastrophe."

Shiva finds her way back to her quarters and is asleep the moment that her head hits the pillow. Her dreams are peaceful at first, a quiet void instilling an amniotic sense of contentment and safety. But this safety is invaded by scenes of violence and horror in which she feels powerless and unable to intervene. The limbs, expressions, and silhouettes of all present mount in their lurid and odious actions, threatening to overcome her and invade her with something that would mar her very makeup with its pernicious poison. 

She awakes in a cold sweat in the early afternoon, panting heavily. There is a disorientation as she slowly pieces together just where she is, but calms once she has. She wonders where the others may be, and a deep ache emanates from various points across her body as she stands up from the bed. Wishing to do something to take her mind off of the nightmares, she looks to her new guitar. Bringing it over to the bed, she sits and strums for awhile, working through the chord shapes and strumming patterns as she does her best to pluck out the song that she had been shown the day before.

Eventually, Shiva moves on to making up her own chords, mixing up notes and forms till they conform to the sound that she is loosely trying to create. She plucks at the strings three and four at a time as she hums a simple melody along to the music. Soon words begin to form, but the lyrics all fall into woeful laments. So she stops thinking about what would sound poetic, letting the words flow.

"Every song. Every dream filled with Hells from beyond. As I'm sinking, I relive the story."

She hums for awhile, then begins playing brighter, happier chords to fit a chorus as more words come. 

"Oh oh oh, never forget me. And everything I've done. Oh oh oh, never forget me. Like I'm your favorite song."

Alaris finishes with Zadkiel, hanging her feedbag and promising to return before going to their rest. With a wince and a sigh from the gloom that always follows death and ugliness, the aasimar walks from the stable into the Abbey to find Abbess Seraphina.

"Well, we did our good deed for the day," they sigh as they find the leader of their order here in Paragon. They recount the violent confrontations, first with the trap left for them at the site of the brothel and then the fight on the longboat and the horrible end to the engagement.

"She was... lovely as can be and then she withered to corruption in a moment when the... the skinrider left her?" With a swallow and a shudder, they fall silent.

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Alaris," Seraphina remarks, calm and collected as ever. "This is a most concerning situation. It is fortunate that you and your companions were able to defeat the undead downriver, but the fact that this 'skinrider' is still at large is troubling."