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(Hold thine horses...)

Somewhere between the realm of shadows and that of the waking world, somewhere in the limbo between light and dark, Maxwell schemed. For They wouldn't have it anymore. It had been too peaceful. But what could Maxwell offer Them? Something new. Something fresh. He smirks as he gazes at the adventures through some sort of shadowy window. He knew just what to do.

(What if they're the same world... Ermahgerd conspiracies4life)

As the group slumbers, three cloaked figures emerge from the dense forest in the early morning. The group's sleep is interrupted by the feel of cold iron as the figures press blades against each of their throats, however, they miss Oxyklne.

Edited by Blewcheese

(Because I'm playing mind games on you.)

Barry breaks into a cold sweat, hands above his head.

"E-excuse me, sirs... Can we help y-you?"

Give us everything you own.

All three of the cloaked people speak in unison, in a dull yet garbled voice.

Oxryklne grunts.  <Of course, marauders in the night!  I knew I should've set up a guard.>

He crawls out of the log and yells at the cloaked men.  <Hey!  Unhand my friends, or I shall act with extreme prejudice!>

Edited by Lord_Battal

Before the men can slit the group's throats, they are held down by the shadow tentacles.

How interesting... A bug who dares control the shadows. You know nothing, beetle.

At that, the figures sink into the ground and only their shadows remain. The shadows slowly drift towards each other, joining up and forming some unrecognizable mass of shadows on the surface.

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