[center][url=https://fontmeme.com/fallout-new-vegas-font/][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/230112/f7d774d3ec20946c1b1c06b083a1b2cd.png[/img][/url][/center] [i]Swimming in blackness. Everything in slow motion. Even his disjointed thoughts.[/i] [sup]"Come on Zell get your lazy ass up we have to go!"[/sup] [i]the familiar voice sounded so far away and he couldn't respond. All he could do was try to swim towards it......................[/i] ..............Zell's unconscious self moaned. Soft and brief. The soldier of the Falcons who had Zell on his back could not hear the swordsman over the din of battle........................ [i]...............There was no sense of direction in the blackness. Zell didn't know which way was up. But he tried to swim anyway. His current form was a figment of his mind - a construct of his warrior will. Somehow he sensed this. Somehow he knew that his physical self was knocked out cold. But if he could just swim towards the direction of the familiar voice from before, he might be able to awaken through pure force of will. "Why do you resist?" Baphomet's guttural, scraping voice was not at all far away. It was loud and all around him. "I have here the power you need to save your friends and yet you spurn it." Baphomet was a lot of things, but 'wrong' was never usually one of them. Here was no different. It was so tempting. If what he'd felt already was just a taste of the Oblivion Plane's power, then to give himself wholly to this contract with Baphomet would almost assure Valhiem's victory. Zell would be invincible. But the price was high. "Of course the price is high," Baphomet responded, reading Zell innermost thoughts. Gone were the days when Zell could hide things from the devil. Long gone. "But what does it really matter? You are already dead. This [i]is[/i] your afterlife. Whatever heaven you think your family will go to, you will not be there to greet them. And you owe the Quinity nothing. Why would it be so bad to give up your soul for immortality? An everlasting life of battle. Of adventure. Of pleasure. Of fame." What the hell even was a soul, anyway? He didn't even believe in the value of that hippie shit. What did it matter? It didn't. His life was over with. That busdriver had ended him. All of this? It was just some crazy-stupid video-game shit that wasn't even real. Hell, it might be all just the posthumous imagination of a dead Under-grad. All of these people, these 'friends,' were probably hallucinations. His dream girl, just a dream. "But, real or not, it doesn't mean that you cannot have them," Baphomet continued. "You can have it all. And it will feel real, whatever 'real' means, to you. Or you can throw it all aw-"[/i] [sup][Colour=Pink]"[i]Zell[/i]!"[/colour][/sup] [i]Zell instantly ignored the devil in favour of another distant but familiar voice. And this one evoked such strong emotion that he didn't need to guess the direction. He could see the light in the blackness. And he swam for it. As for the Oblivion Prince: Baphomet's disappointment was apparent, but it was clear that he and Zell were coming to an understanding and were close to sealing the deal. He had seen the state of the battle through Zell's eyes and he could see that it was obviously unwinnable. The situation would soon become desperate and Zell would have no other options. Baphomet would have his champion and vessel..................[/i] ............Zell stirred and the soldier carrying him noticed. The Englishman opened his eyes, dizzy as hell, and got off the man's back gingerly but in time for MacKensie to crash into him with a fierce hug. [Colour=Pink]"You [i]stupid[/i] idiot."[/colour] He almost fell over but she kept him up and he chuckled, hugging her back just as strongly. [Colour=Pink]"You stupid, stupid idiot."[/colour] "You're a sight for sore eyes, doll. And no mistake." As they halfway let eachother go, he smiled at her. "Am I glad to see you." He wanted so badly to kiss her, but seeing as that would be incredibly inappropriate for a myriad of reasons, (not least of which was that they were in streets that were about to be filled to the brim with skellies,) he managed to refrain. She helped him the rest of the way, through the checkpoint and down the last stretch of street to the Bazaar. They traded a few snippets of knowledge of the happenings this morning and Zell's battered head also managed to put together the puzzle that Fenna had been the one to rescue him. "Fenna, pal, you are a walking miracle," he said as they came over the bridge and into the Bazaar. "I owe you one." His grin soon turned to a frown as he and MacKensie's attention turned to their other friend who was in Fenna's arms. "Shit," Zell cursed. Sil was hurt. When they inquired on Sil's well-being and got the news that the falcon was hurt but would be okay with some healing, they were relieved. Zell parted ways with them to go get some medical attention of his own and thankfully, Fenna's soldier stayed with him because as soon as his adrenaline wore off, he fainted. The soldier managed to catch him and stop the swordsman from whacking his head on the ground for the sixtieth time, then picked him up and carried him to the medical station where he was awoken again. "Fuck. I didn't faint in front of the girls, did I?" Typical Zell Brooks. A tiefling Cleric came to him, in a noticeable bad mood. Zell guessed that she was just feeling the fatigue of overwork. Michael Fern's elven hearing had been keeping a close observation of the Cleric's conduct and overheard Adam direct her to Zell. He went over and introduced himself. "Michael Fern." "Zell Brooks. Second Chance," Zell returned, reaching out to shake the man's hand. "Any friend of Adam is a friend of mine," Michael said. "You have a top o' the range Druid on your back line. And with a big heart too." Zell grinned as, speak of the devil, he saw the American (strangely, with that fucking dickhead, Xavier.) "Yeah. He's one in a million, that guy." Michael smiled and left to attend to other things. At that point, Barracker showed up. Zell nodded jovially at his fellow muscle-head and brother-in-arms, saying to the Cleric. "Do me a favour and sort out this pincushion next, will ye? He's got more arrows in him than a map with directions. Ha!" His mood was improving during this lull in the battle. In spite of the desperate situation, just seeing that his friends were okay was buoying up his spirits to no end. All he wanted, in this moment, was to see Alison and of course, his best friend, James. Everything would be right in the world once he caught a glimpse of that permanent scowl and Mexican accent. He groaned as his broken bones were being reset and cured. He would go and see those last two party members as soon as he could move. For now, at least he could enjoy a laugh with Kass.