"What?" Dagan asked, confused. This definitely was a weird turn of events and disregarding that, Seras was probably going to be worried now, too, since she had went to look for Nike, herself.

Perhaps Nike had gotten the same idea as Seras and Dagan, then? That was worth considering, Dagan thought to himself, but then again, now that he thought about it, was it really that all that likely?

"Wait, no - I don't remember passing him on the way back," Dagan said to himself, looking away from Attis and up towards the colorless sky of their world. “Or maybe he had left before us? He might’ve done that,” Dagan shut up, looked down and towards Attis: Oh, that’s right!

“Today’s strange,” he declared, “Nike is gone, but Seras and me also saw a bunch of shadow people coming towards the city,” he explained, “couldn’t touch them or get their attention, they just ignored us. What do you make of it? Seras didn’t like it.”

Attis frowned. "Y-yeah . . . it has, hasn't it?"

Dagan's reaction was unfortunate, though. The way he responded suggested that he, too, had no idea where Nike was. It also suggested that-- . . . wait a second . . .

"You saw the shadows?" Attis wrinkled his brow.

He seemed less concerned about the shadows themselves and more worried about the fact that Dagan was able to see them. The reason, of course, was simple:

"Didn't I tell you it's dangerous out there?" Attis refrained from putting his hands on his hips, though the urge was undoubtedly strong nonetheless.

"It wasn't that dangerous," Dagan replied. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything? Well, it was too late now ... "Ahaha," he laughed, "well it was Nike's idea and Seras and me just sort of went with it - or something like that."

Honestly, Dagan was not too concerned over Attis not liking their decision to explore outside the city, but even if he was upset by it, there were bigger things to deal with right now; after all, Nike was missing and there was a literal army marching - wait, what was that again? Attis didn’t sound very concerned about the shadows; it seemed to almost be an after thought, in fact.

“What?” Dagan asked, confused. “You don’t care about the shadows?”

"N-- no, I--" Attis shook his head, immediately after which he hung his head and rubbed his forehead with the palm of his hand, "The shadows are harmless . . ."

This was all a mess, and Attis had no idea how to prevent it from ever happening again. Fixing it, sure. He could do that. Just find and secure Nike and make sure everyone was in the city in one piece. But preventing this from happening later . . . that was the part that got him. Because just telling everyone "don't go out beyond our walls" apparently wasn't going to work anymore.

"Look, you're just not supposed to leave. It's our only rule. I--" Attis had to stop himself before he got on a tangent and started lecturing Dagan. Now wasn't the time. He still had a small crisis on his hands. ". . . Anyways, you said something about Nike? That going out . . . there," he motioned, "was his idea?"

Because that would at least point Attis in the right direction . . .

"Not allowed to leave?" Dagan frowned and made like he was going to say something about how unfair that was, but that was a debate for later; he had an almost childish mentality at times, but he could smell weird a mile away, sometimes. Usually.

"Right," he said, forgetting his previous thought almost immediately. "He mentioned it last night," he explained, "and, uh, Sera and me decided to just sort of . . . Go ahead; he might have gotten the same idea and left before us."

"Oh," Attis replied, only to pause and hang his head, ". . . crap."

That . . . was . . .

Not good. Nope. That was not even remotely good. It was the exact opposite of good, in fact. Nike could have gone anywhere. Out beyond the walls . . . it was going to be next to impossible to find him, wasn't it? If he'd been inside the city, this would've been much easier . . .

"D- do you know where he might have gone?" Attis asked, "I mean-- out there-- do you-- ?"

Without hesitation, Dagan pointed up and then brought his finger down, wondering just why he had felt the urge to gesture upwards . . . Strange, he briefly considered before saying: "North," and he didn't miss a beat, to boot.

"That's where we were heading, but we stopped after we saw the silhouettes," he turned his head and muttered something along the lines of 'since Seras can't cover much ground.'

In truth, if Dagan had left by himself, he could have covered much more ground and possibly caught up to Nike, if he really had left before the two. One thing was for sure, though, and that was, if Nike left after Dagan and Seras, Dagan was sure he’d have seen the other man on their way back to the city. He was pretty proud of his sharp eyes and keen senses, at least. Nobody had ever complimented him on them, but maybe they just had never noticed? Oh well, he didn’t need compliments anyways!

“Like I said, though, Attis, it was his idea, and I’m pretty sure that’s where he would’ve gone, if he was going to go anywhere.”

Attis nodded his head a bit. Okay. Good. Excellent. They had a direction. They just needed to move in that direction enough until they found Nike. Great. They also needed the Seeker. If he was given a direction and a person to find in that direction--he found them. Always.

"All right. Okay," Attis sighed, "I-- thanks, Dagan."

He smiled weakly. And it was about then that he felt bad for scolding Dagan so harshly--or what he perceived to have been harsh, at least. In reality, though, a harsh scolding from Attis was like a weak mother slapping a grown man on the wrist. The only real pain that came from it was when the word "disappointment" left his lips. Which didn't happen now. Which was good, because then he'd have definitely felt horrible about that.

"And-- sorry. It's-- it's stressful when someone doesn't turn up," Attis apologized, "Um-- okay, I'm going to go get the Seeker and we're going to go out for Nike. Please, Dagan, stay here. I mean-- in the city. Okay?"

"Uh-huh," Dagan cradled his chin with his hand and nodded to himself while uttering a few things outside of Attis' range of hearing. From the looks of things, he had thought their conversation was over and stopped listening to Attis somewhere between 'all right' and 'thanks, Dagan'

“OhrightbyeAttisgotsomewheretobesorry,” a rushed stream of near-incomprehensible words suddenly erupted from Dagan’s throat as he appeared a dozen yards away, disappearing again, reappearing, and, finally, simply fading from sight altogether. From the perspective of a bystander, it would most definitely look as though Dagan was traveling by way of skipping dashing; admittedly, it was very high-speed, powerful skipping dashing. Like a game of ‘the floor is lava’, but with superhuman leg-strength.

Who to look for first?

Dagan came to an abrupt stop atop an unassuming building; he re-adopted his pose from earlier, holding his chin in his hand, and briefly considered which of his the two to seek out first: Seras or Nike. The latter was probably up north, towards where Dagan had just left, but from the way Attis was talking, there was at least some sense of urgency in finding him. However . . . Seras was in the city, looking for Attis, probably worried or angry at not being able to find him, and would probably be mildly upset that he didn’t inform her before rocketing off to adventure looking for Nike.

Mentally, Dagan pictured both his friends - Seras and Nike, smiling, of course - and, physically, he pointed a finger out; he imagined them standing just in front of him and then moved his index finger to Seras.

“Eeny,” he started, moving his finger away from Seras and to Nike, from Nike to Seras, and continued in this way.

His arm, hand, and finger were a blur.

“Meeny, miny, moe; catch a Seeker by the toe; if he hollers let him go; eeny, meeny, miny moe, you. are. it!”

And suddenly Dagan was gone again.

And Dagan was off ... to adventure. Without Seras. This would no doubt be a bit of an annoyance for her, but Dagan was not a force that could be controlled. If she hadn't accustomed herself with this fact yet, then she was a bit too idealistic for her or anyone else's good. Nevertheless...

Before long, Dagan would find himself in the very same expanse he and Seras were previously exploring. North. That was the direction, and virtually the only clue he had: north. Out here, though, he'd find the silhouettes, the same walking shadows progressing in single file ever southward. They were slow, it seemed, and the bulk of the man sized shadows were now perched atop much larger shadows, tall things with four legs, awkward necks, and tall backs. Dagan had certainly seen those before, back when he first "met" the shadows, but this was his first time seeing them as a mount of some sort. In fact, it was his first time seeing anything used as a mount. Period.

The expanse, however, looked and felt as if it went on forever...

Instinctively, Dagan slowed when he happened upon the army once again. He hadn't really expected them to not be there, but, at the same time, he wasn't really expecting to see them again . . . Not that it really mattered in the end; he took a few moments to look over the army and he especially inspected the bigger, multi-limbed shadows. Those were interesting, to say the least.

And then he gazed off into the northern distance.

Not much, if anything, seemed to change scenery-wise; indeed, it just seemed to be a never-ending loop of back and foreground. To Nike’s credit, Dagan was pretty impressed at his friend’s gumption - his drive and ambition in pursuing this . . . Come to think of it, Dagan wasn‘t entirely sure what all of this was. There wasn’t much to explore out here, but, still, Nike had made amazing ground from the looks of it.

Perhaps he had underestimated Nike.

Suddenly feeling reinvigorated, Dagan made to continue his north-bound search for Nike.

To reach anything at all, Dagan had to go further than he had with Seras. Which was easy enough; Seras hardly had the ability to walk nearly as fast as Dagan could, and definitely could not go as far on foot. Without the limitations Seras inadvertently imposed on him, Dagan was actually able to make good ground in no time at all. He passed more anx more fields of dry earth, endless patches of gray, and inevitably what looked like towering walls of stone on the left and right sides, cutting off all access to the distant east and west, limiting Dagan to the option of north or south and nowhere else.

But that was all he needed. Ever northward took him places, or at least one place in particular...

It didn't take Dagan long to reach it, about as long as he'd been out with Seras, perhaps a bit shorter. He'd not yet feel the sting of fatigue, an already rare experience for Dagan. Beyond the fog, he'd catch a glimpse of it--a shadow, much like the thing he'd seen outside of the city, but infinitely larger and much farther away. So far, in fact, that it would feel like eternity to get closer to it.

What Dagan would soon behold was an ocean, devoid of water, filled instead with an inky blackness that lapped up onto a dry and oil stained shore. The darkness seemed to go on forever, and worse off, it seemed the fog had parted, allowing Dagan a view into a grey and black horizon. But that wasn't the image he saw behind the fog, the thing he'd have been following this entire time. That image would, too, gift his eyes:

A castle, set out beyond the shore and floating within the sea of oil, half fallen into itself, yet still accessible by the long rope bridge connecting it by half a mile to shore...

A full-on sprint was brought to a near-screeching halt as Dagan stopped in his tracks.

For a normal person, lying eyes on the - no, any - ocean for the first time invoked an odd sensation that was a mixture of intimidation and awe; Dagan was no normal person, however. More accurately, nobody from Dagan’s city was normal and there was probably very few who wouldn’t have stopped in their tracks, fixed their gaze onto the castle and its ‘moat’, and felt tad bit confused and out of their element.

There was excitement, thankfully.

A strong vibration racked itself up and down Dagan’s body. A heart-pounding, thundering flow of blood beat against Dagan’s temples while a wide smile spread across his face: there was something out here! Something big - huge, even! It was the first building he had - - Wait, was this where the army was coming from? This castle? Had they marched over that bridge? Really? Actually, looking closer, it was a pretty decrepit looking place, not very much like the city at all, in fact, but despite that observation, his curiosity still refused tempering.

Plus, he still had to find Nike! He had to be here. There really wasn’t much else, unless Nike had veered off the northern path when there was still an option of doing so. That wouldn’t have been good at all, Dagan thought to himself.

Right, Nike had to be in there. In the castle. Otherwise, this would all have been a big waste of time and . . . And . . .

The rope bridge was in front of him in a matter of seconds. Excitement bled from the very fiber of his being, right down and through to his soul.

He crossed.

The old wooden bridge was barely stable enough to support Dagan at a decent sprint, let alone an entire line of shadows. This would likely be an issue Dagan would come to face first hand, as the old bridge, kept afloat on a sea of oil, was held together with old wood and twine, offering only a rope on eithe side of the would be flimsy path for support--yet even then, one was taking ones own life at stake to cross. A slow and steady walk was the only way to cross without risk; any sort flaunt may have risked the bridge's integrity. Dagan would have no choice but to go easy this time.

Closer and closer to the castle, Dagan would start to see more details. Better details. No doubt this place was older than his city; it had four keeps, one on every corner, three of which were collapsed. A central tower also appeared to be subject to a complete cave in as well. A pair of massive double doors would greet Dagan at the end of the bridge, set upon black stone and cobble, a half decrepit set of stairs leading straight to an open door. The left door, specifically.

And within it, a series of red splotches, droplets leading into the central sanctum ...

A momentary pause before crossing had been accompanied by the thought 'I wonder if I could jump . . .' and then Dagan put it out of his mind. A full on sprint, at his maximum speed, running from the city to this castle, he might have cleared the distance, but with all his built up momentum and force having already been dispersed from stopping, it definitely wasn't happening now; it was also too big of a risk to attempt. Dagan had never even attempted to jump that far or high. If he messed up, it was a one way trip to a bad situation.

And so, to reiterate: he crossed.

It was at a slow (but quite steady) pace that Dagan walked over this bridge; he was not unaware of its horrible condition, either. Dagan had an eye for detail when it came to these sorts of things and this bridge was basically one giant smudge of an eyesore.

A glorious stone-bridge handcrafted by the most skilled masons and engineers? That would have been something worth crossing. This? This was a deathtrap in the making! Sadly, Dagan didn’t quite understand any of that except at the most basic level. Something sturdier would have been nice.

The castle itself was far less disappointing, but also a far-cry from what it could have been. It was more pleasing to his sense of aesthetics, however. If it had been in the city, Dagan would have definitely lived inside of it. Somewhere.

And then Dagan came to notice the double doors, then the stairs, and, finally, the one door that was open. Pressing onwards, he happened upon the splotches of color; needless to say, amongst the drab, colorless world that was his home, these moments of color - splashes of crimson - stood out too well. Dagan’s eyes followed, alarmed and curious as to why. Something in him told him this was a bad sign, but it was a weird something; it was not unlike that something he felt when he was with Seras, but it was different . . . It was a fearful sensation, but in the form of weariness. He was instinctively on guard now.

But he would not stop exploring this castle; although his very base instincts caused him a bit of distress, the very fiber of his being, something even more close to who he was than those reptilian thoughts now coursing through his mind, told him that he was fine and that he need only believe he could deal with whatever surprise was in store.

It was all a feeling though. For the most part, Dagan was ignorant of all of these thoughts and instincts and fears and feelings.

"In there?"

His voice came out coarse and dry; suddenly, he was aware of how quiet it really was and how he hadn't spoke in a long time, either. The last time had been... On the roof, when he was deciding over Nike or Seras.

He shook his head and walked into the inner-most part of the castle.