You stay where you are as Crow and Mikus make their way through the masses, inspecting the serene faces of the dreamers. Enough time passes that you are prepared to step out with them when you see one of them suddenly shoot an arm forward to grasp at Mikus' throat. It lifts him off the ground, and all you can hear is his choked gargle as the sleepless one holds him up.

All around, the unsleeping ones arise from their rest, springing to life and swarming in upon Mikus. You have lost sight of Crow in all the chaos and watch in horror as they take and rip Mikus' limbs from his body, tossing the bloody appendages aside like scraps of meat. Mikus' screams are deafening and difficult to bear.

Muttering a curse under your breath, you step out of the foliage with your spiked club at the ready. You wade into the swarming masses, knocking one on its back with the blunt side of your club and stick the spike into the next one, impaling its throat. You plant a foot into the body and jerk your spiked club out in time to crack another in the skull, liquefying the brains' protective shell and turning it to mush.

You continue to swing your club into the seemingly endless crowd of sleep-controlled bodies until your arms grow numb and you begin to wonder how much longer you can maintain this pace. Aside from the sickening thuds and cracks of skulls, the only real sounds are footsteps and a strange moan that seems to emanate from the mouths of the human puppets.

Suddenly you hear a battle cry from the path behind you where your group approached the once motionless masses. You see Godar, Tonal, and Kossa charging down the hill with weapons raised, coming to join the fray. Though you think it would have been better for them to hang back and follow this group to their lair regardless of your fate, you cannot help but feel a sense of relief as they join the chaotic battle.

You find your hope refreshed with their presence and your strength seems altogether renewed. You battle your way through the bodies in an effort to reach their sides. You lose sight of them several times in all the madness but manage to follow the sounds of battle and eventually catch glimpses of them here and there.

As you bash in the head of yet another mindless body you marvel at the terrible sluggishness of their movements. You are certain that if the bodies had even an average mobility you would already be dead.

Long before you reach the sides of the other men you find that the masses have dwindled dramatically, a little over a score in number. You and your companions make quick work of these last few sleepless men and women and you pause to take a breath and take in the havoc around you.

You look first to your companions to see only Yornalla, Crow, and Godar still standing. Everyone else is dead. You saw Mikus fall, but were unaware that his father, Kossa, had fallen as well. Both Kossa and Mikus lay on the cold earth with their limbs scattered around them. Tonal was the worst of all. Like the others, his arms and legs had been ripped from his body, but he also had several chunks missing from his body as though the sleepless ones had bitten and eaten from him.

Involuntarily you drop the club and fall to your knees, your hands almost clawing at your eyes as tears stream down your cheeks. The gravity of what you have done simply cannot be repressed any longer.

As the sobs wrack through your body you start to realise that you are not only remorseful of all the men and women you have had to kill but also over the utter hopelessness of your situation. Now all of the unsleepers are dead. There is no one to follow back to the puppet master.

As you start to calm you feel a hand on your shoulder. You peer through your tears, your vision liquidic, and stare up into the eyes of Yornalla. She stands there so calm, so beautiful. You collect yourself quickly and and stand, doing your best to appear as though you did not just have a break down, though you are certain that everyone is aware that you did.

You speak, wincing at the knowledge that your voice will break, but speaking anyway. "Now we will never find who is behind this."

Yornalla shakes her head and rolls a body over with her foot. It is a young woman, not yet in her twenties by the look of her. Her breath comes shallow.

"I didn't kill this one," she says, shedding the fear that had dominated her voice since this nightmare began. "I think we should wait for this one to rise and follow her home."

Nods are shared through the group. Crow calls the plan "logical" and the four of you hide in the brush and wait.

The wait is shorter than you had expected, but you didn't really know what to expect. After some time the womans body starts to move and slowly she gets to her feet.

She begins walking in that sluggish pace that the sleepless ones seem to favor.

****************THE REST OF THIS ROOM IS AN OUTLINE**************************
Follow it, follow it, follow it.

You come to an ancient temple that you had always thought long abandoned. It enters the temple.

Go in?