Young Writers Society

Welcome to the Labyrinth!

You've found yourself in this giant maze of long, winding corridors, dead ends and strange rooms, but you're not alone. There are others here, and they also want out. They're armed and dangerous and you're not sure that they'll be friendly towards you, but that's not your only worry in this Labyrinth. Something else...something nasty lingers in the shadows corridors and dead ends, and it wants to eat you.

Will you and your trapped fellows be able to escape? Or will you end up consumed or trapped...forever?

Enjoy the dungeon, and remember;

There soft, low lighting was pleasant and made him feel warm, almost safe. He blinked, watching almost serenely as the space above him got progressively darker the higher the ceiling went until he was almost sure there wasn't a ceiling. Arryn blinked. Wait, no. That wasn't right. This was not his and Soren's rooms, and it definitely wasn't one of the kids'.... Where the hell was he?

He sat up abruptly and reached either side of him--for where Soren and Izzy were supposed to be--only to find cold, empty stone and cool water. Arryn frowned and turned to take in the room. He was in some kind of...cicular room, sitting on the edge of a shallow pool in the center of the room. Arryn sighed and dragged a hand over his face.

"Not again," he muttered, exhaling heavily. Then he lowered his hand and caught a glimse of silver and blue on his wrist. Arryn twisted his hand to exmaine it. "Oh, hell no, not this bullshit again!" He checked the other wrist as well and swore, violently. "Damnit, Soren!"

Of course he'd end up with antimage bracelets on. He somehow always ended up with the damned things on him. Arryn groaned and shoved his face into his palm, taking a moment to just...process this, this... He sighed and lowered the hand slowly. There was the distinct impression of being watched and he didn't like it. Then he heard it, a soft patter of feet and then Izzy's voice as his son launched himself at Arryn, nearly toppling him into the pool behind him.

"Daddy!"

"Izzy?!" Arryn exclaimed, eyes widening as he caught him and righted himself a little, shifting so they weren't in danger of toppling into the water. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Izzy peered up at him and blinked owlishly. "Daddy and Daddy Soren were sleeping, but i wanted hugs, so I hugged...and then I woke up here!" He shifted slightly, almost unbalancing himself. "And look! Daddy even has his sword!"

He looked in the direction Izzy was pointing and there was, indeed, his sword leaning against the edge of the pool. "Uh...thanks, I guess?"

"No problem, daddy!"

"Okay, kiddo... Let's just..." He set the kid down and turned to reach for the sword but hesiated at the sight of someone else in the room. Arryn squinted and tilted his head, trying to make out their face because the outfit was not familiar at all. Then he realised. It was James. What the hell was James doing here? "James?"

He wasn't in Nye anymore, and he wasn't in his normal clothes. Again.

At this point, James wasn't angry. He wasn't frustrated. He wasn't even sure if he was tired. He didn't really feel anything anymore.

That was, until he realized what he was wearing.

He sat up and stared down at the armor, at the Moonlight Kingdom crest engraved on his chestplate, and the sword at his side. His eye twitched and he stood up, stiff in the armor that was uncomfortably familiar, and somehow still seemed to fit.

It had been over six years since he'd donned Moonlight Kingdom armor. Since he'd worn this. And the sad thing was that, as much as it annoyed him, he had a gut feeling that the reason he'd been put in it was because he'd need it.

Could they have picked something more generic? Something that wasn't tied to his painful past? No. Of course not. None of these people or things or whatever is was that ended up pulling him out of realities ever truly had his best interests in mind. There was always a catch. Always something bad that came out whatever good anyone might have ever intended.

He wished the universe would leave him alone, but that wish had long gone unanswered. So he just decided that this was his lot in life now.

And he wasn't alone. (When was he ever? In things like this? Rarely.) He heard people talking.

He looked up when he heard his name.

Arryn was sitting there, at the edge of a pool that sat in the center of the room. One of his kids was with him. He couldn't remember the child's name.

"Oh, Arryn," he said casually, despite the reality of, well, everything. "You're uh, looking well."

Everything ached. It had been a long time since he had hurt this badly, but he could survive. His head felt slightly off balance as he got to his feet; he vaguely remembered being hit by a pipe by one of the men he had been tracking down. Rude. The trauma was probably the reason for his lack of memory, but it didn't explain how he had suddenly ended up here. He absentmindedly allowed the wound to regenerate. It didn't take any longer than usual despite hurting so much, thankfully.

Where was here, anyways? He studied the area around him. He was in some kind of circular room that he didn't recognize, but he did note that it had a vaguely older feel. Kind of like the London catacombs, now that he thought about it. The walls were probably much older, and the room looked to be in a much better shape. But it still didn't feel like something he'd find in the middle of the city, that was for sure.

...Had he been brought to this strange place after being knocked unconscious?

He tapped his foot against the ground. A habit of his that he had never been able to break, no matter how hard he had tried. He was thankfully in the shadows right now; the other occupants of the room wouldn't have seen his head reshape itself.

But it was still disconcerting that there were other people here to begin with. Most of them looked dangerous. There was a man wearing armor and a sheathed sword, and another one with a sword alone. There was also a little kid, too, but the family resemblance between the man with the sword and him was strong enough to imply that the man with the sword would protect him if things got dangerous.

The man with the sword was certainly more of the immediate threat, but he'd keep an eye on the man in the armor, too. It seemed like the two of them knew each other, anyways - if things got dangerous, they'd likely support each other in a fight.

(He hated how his first thought was to use the little boy as leverage if the need arose. He was trying to get better about that. He had been for a long time. But his mind couldn't help but start thinking strategically.)

Smiling, he dusted himself off and stepped out of the shadows.

"Hello~" he said, walking over to the group and giving a little lean and wave. It was best to be friendly at the start - even if things always seemed to turn dangerous these days. "The name's Oz! Short for Oswald, but it's a dreadful first name and I hate to use it. Neither of you have any idea where we are, do you? I just woke up here and I'm very confused. The last thing I remember, I was standing in a warehouse."

He looked around the room.

"And this isn't a warehouse," he added.

Queenie woke with a splitting headache. She processed first the stone beneath her, cold, even where she'd been laying, and then the sound of voices. It took frustratingly long for her eyes to focus on the figures in the light. Three men and a kid, barely older than a toddler. The men mostly looked like they'd stepped out of a medieval fantasy book of some kind, the kid, too, really, but two of the men were armed. That's what worried her.

She got silently to her feet and padded behind a pillar, observing from the relative safety of the shadows.

Why couldn't...whatever it was this time, have just waited for her to change into something a little less...fancy. The coat, for sure, wasn't helping her hide, but she figured keeping her guns hidden right this second was the best move, especially since she was wearing light colors underneath anyway, and had just as much chance of being seen without it. Best to look like some harmless rich girl - or otherworldly chick, depending on what these people knew about other worlds. It varied in these situations so much, she could never go in with any real expectations.

At least she was armed. It was much more comfortable that way.

She was going to stay hidden, listen for a little longer, get a feel for her company here in this sick little cosmic game, when she spotted a fifth member of the party sit up on the other side of the pavilion. The kid was grubby, skinny and malnourished under the layers upon layers of dirty donation-box clothes he buttoned himself up in.

Bobby got up, hands trembling as he looked over the scene.

Queenie cursed under her breath and made a decision.

She stepped out into the open before anyone else noticed Bobby. "Hi," she said with a wave, pulling her jacket tighter around her with her free hand - a faked expression of nervousness - "I'm Elizabeth, Eliza for short, um," she blushed, "this is a stupid question, but where are we?"

With everyone's eyes on her, she watched in her peripheral vision as Bobby hid himself back in the shadows. He'd come out once Queenie had figured out if these people were safe.

"I was wondering the same thing!" Oz said.

He studied her and her outfit - the white fur coat, the jumpsuit, and the expensive jewelry. It all looked vaguely rich. That didn't tell Oz a whole lot, but it was interesting considering what the others in the room were wearing. No obvious weapons, and no obvious armor.

He didn't fit that pattern, either (no one could see the knife under his jacket or could easily sense his magic) but he still couldn't help but wonder what weapons she might have hiding underneath that fur coat.

He absentmindedly rubbed the back of his head.

It had been awhile since he was in a serious fight. The pipe to the head hadn't hurt too badly in the scheme of things; he could handle a tussle.

He stuck out the hand that was previously rubbing the back of his head out towards Eliza.

"I'm Oz!" he introduced himself. "It's short for Oswald, technically, but Oswald is a horrible first name."

He glanced around the room again.

"The last place I remember being in was a warehouse," he said, "so I'm just as confused as you are!"

James got to his feet and looked over at the others. Oswald, or Oz, as he called himself, was very talkative. And Queenie was there, looking innocent and confused, as if this wasn't her dozenth time being somewhere she shouldn't, under mysterious circumstances.

If she was intent on acting clueless, and if she didn't recognize him in his getup (not that he would recognize himself either, probably, if he saw himself in a mirror), he wasn't going to mention it. If she wanted to be Elizabeth and having an alias made her feel safe, then fine. She was Elizabeth, then.

"I think it's safe to assume," James answered. "That none of us know where we are. That's probably something we'll have to figure out."

Arryn looked between James and the two new-comers with a frown. "Uh... What..."

He wasn't sure how to even start describing what was going on, let alone answer questions directed his way, so he just kind of...went quiet with a grimace. He vaguely registered that Izzy was inching away from them.

"James--" he began and Izzy chose that moment to dart off somewhere behind him and Arryn swore, twisting to peer into the shadows. "IZZY, YOU GET BACK HERE RIGHT NOW!"

"But there's someone over here," the brat called back from behind a pillar or something, "and he's shy!"

"What?" Arryn cursed some more and went after his son. "Izzy, I swear, if you don't get back here--"

"Daaaaaddy."

That made him hesitate and throw his hands up, turning to give James a look that clearly said 'help me'. "Ugh, fine," he ground out, scowling. "Who's there? You better not have hurt my son or I'll--"

"Daddy, don't threaten him! He's nice!"

"Izzy, please," Arryn called back, turning to try and find his son in the shadowy corners of the room, "get back over here right now!"

Bobby backed up against the wall. His throat was constricting on itself. He couldn't breathe.

He wanted to get smaller, and smaller, and smaller, and shrink out of sight.

The angry tone of the man who approached made him flinch even if he wasn't the direct target, and Bobby's eyes stayed pinned to his sword.

Well, things had just become a little more chaotic than Oz had expected.

He had forgotten how unpredictable children could be. It had been so long since he had last interacted with them - and even longer since that interaction lasted more than five minutes.

Still, kids were definitely observant. More observant than Oz was right now, apparently. He really should have been paying attention. If he had completely missed noticing a person, he must have been getting rusty.

He wasn't sure if he was supposed to find that comforting or not.

Things could get nasty quickly if Izzy's dad decided he wanted to use that sword on whoever was lurking in the shadows, so Oz decided to step in and intervene.

He muttered the words to a spell and conjured up a little orb of light that floated above the palm of his hand. With a concentrated breath of air out in the orb's direction, the orb hovered over to the shadow where Izzy and the other person were.

The moment the light landed on the two, it became clear that Izzy's assessment was probably right - the boy looked so skinny and malnourished. Oz's first thought was to make some food appear with a magic spell, but he was sure the boy wasn't going to be taking food from strangers.

Why else would he be hiding in the shadows?

And the boy looked terrified, too. Oz could see why. Izzy's dad looked like a decent threat. He tried to figure out what he could do to diffuse the situation. He wasn't that good at that. Every fight he tried to avoid seemed to end up as a fight. And he told himself that he hated it, but he knew that his body was craving the sweet rush of adrenaline.

He wasn't going to cave into it. He wasn't going to let himself.

"Hi," he said, his tone a little softer and quieter, and his movements a little slower and gentler. "I'm Oz, but you probably already heard me say that. Please don't be scared - I think he was just worried about his son. And if he does try hurting you, I won't let him."

...Maybe he shouldn't have added that part. That sounded vaguely like he was threatening Izzy's dad, when all he had been trying to do was make boy formerly in the shadows feel a little more safe. Why couldn't he stop himself from stumbling into conflict? With his luck, the man was going to attack him with the sword!

Arryn glanced between his son and this stranger... Oz, was it? And then looked down at the sword with a frown. Oh, oh. Was he scaring the poor boy with his yelling and the sword? Arryn sighed and lowered the sword.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said slowly, trying to go for soothing. "I can tell you're not going to hurt my son, so.... Here." And he tossed the sword into the pool with a soft plink! "Better?"

Izzy, though, was crouched beside him and peering at at him with wide eyes. "Are you like me and daddy? Can you do magic, too? Is that why you woke up here?"

Bobby was hyperventilating, his gaze flicking wildly between the people who were all getting closer, asking question after question without space to breathe.

Queenie rushed to step between them - especially the men - and Bobby. "Back off," she said firmly.

Bobby inched closer to her, away from the kid who was practically clinging to him.

James stood from a distance, watching the panic play out as it was discovered that Izzy had only found another person among them - a boy, who looked terrified. Words of comfort and assurance didn’t seem to be helping, which told James that those weren’t what the kid needed.

The kid looked like he knew Queenie, though, and trusted her enough to gravitate towards her for safety.

“Give the kid some space,” he ordered, looking to Oz and Arryn, then landed his gaze on Izzy. “Izzy, go to your father.”

He shifted his weight to one foot, resting his hand loosely on the hilt of his sword.

Oz's gaze drifted down to the hilt of the armored man's sword, but he didn't protest the decision. He took a step back and gave an apologetic smile.

Izzy pouted for a moment and then scamped back towards him when Arryn sent him a meaningful look. Once his kid was safely tucked behind his legs, Arryn folded his arms and glanced between James, the Oz guy, the girl in the white fur coat and the clearly panicking young man.

"Thank you, James," he said softly, and relaxed a little. "Now... who exactly are you and where the hell are we?"