Benevolence: A Historic Supposition of the i'Xiia Asylum's Inception.

Characters:
Alakar i'Xiia, Master of the Asylum
Ceria Inalai, Matron of the Asylum
Nacal Dekoven, Tidekeeper of Celest and Director of Asylum Security
Sundry Mentally Disturbed Mugwumps

Darkness pervades the theatre. Not a whit of light may be seen, and there is no
sound to be spoken of. An acrid odor makes its presence known, a subtle hint of
pristine sterility whose fumes burn the nostrils. Quietly, so softly as to make
one question their existence, voices may be heard speaking in soft tones.

WOMAN. ...of course, you've nothing to be worried about. I promise you, dear,
just relax a little and perhaps you won't mind it so much...

MAN. ...naturally, we haven't the slightest idea of what's occuring. It's
bizarre, unthinkable - I've never seen the like of it...

CHILD. ...Mama? Mama, wake up. Please, Mama, they said it was time for us to
go. Mama...Mama...don't you hear me?

Abruptly, an inhuman, horrific scream pierces the air. The soft scent of
sterilization quickly becomes overpowered with the thick smell of blood and
sweat, of rot and decay.

MAN. (Cackling) Welcome to the i'Xiia Asylum. We are certain that your stay
will be brief.

Soft gas lamps wink to life on the stage, illuminating a bright, crisp office.
The perturbing aromas fade instantly, replaced with a clean, light incense that
seems to bring clarity of the mind. Numerous documents and scrolls have been
tacked to the walls of the room meticulously, while a pair of comfortable
chairs has provided room for guests to seat themselves before a wide, imposing
desk of pristine moonhart. Behind the desk, a studious human regards a report
with furrowed brows, peering at the script from behind the crystal lenses of
his spectacles.

ALAKAR. (Murmuring to himself) My, my. Three months we've been in operation,
and already so many patients have been relocated? How frighteningly odd.
Terrible enough that this facility has a reason to exist, but to become
populated so very quickly? Ridiculous.

The man continues in this vein for some time, idly shuffling through the
parchment before him. A sudden knock sounds at his door, and he glances up,
distracted.

ALAKAR. (Offhandedly) Come in, Ceria, come in.

The door to the office slides seamlessly into the wall, revealing a tall, stern
merian male garbed in robes of azure broadcloth. He enters, surveying the area
with an expression of mild disinterest, then, at length, inclines his head to
Alakar.

NACAL. Greetings, Professor i'Xiia.

ALAKAR (Raising his head suddenly) You're not Ceria.

NACAL. (Stifling a contemptuous snort) No, I'm afraid not. Tidekeeper Nacal
Dekoven at your service, dispatched by the Emperor himself in order to assist
you in the maintenance of this facility.

ALAKAR rises from his seat, straightening his robes.

ALAKAR. My apologies - I am afraid that I was not aware of your coming. Nor, I
am afraid, that you would be assisting in - what was it? The maintenance of
this facility. We have it well in hand, I assure you.

ALAKAR smiles thinly.

NACAL. (Lightly) That may be so, Professor, but the Empire wishes to maintain
the highest possible structural integrity and security for your asylum, given
its nature. Therein lies my specialty.

NACAL lifts a hand, conjuring a small orb of brilliant blue energy that
coalesces above his palm.

NACAL. I am something of a theorist, you understand. Making certain that the
very best resources for security and observation are available to you is my
first priority. For example, these scrying globes. Connect them to a suitable
surface for surveillance purposes, and every ward in your building will be at
your fingertips.

NACAL closes his hand, extinguishing the light.

ALAKAR. (Raising an eyebrow) A specialty indeed. Still, it is quite a long
journey for one of your stature, sir Dekoven, to come all this way just for a
pittance such as that.

NACAL. (Regarding Alakar coolly) My remaining directive is to take up residence
here, among your staff, and ensure that the patients in your purview are cared
for properly.

ALAKAR. The Emperor doubts our intentions?

NACAL. Not at all. This is merely procedure, as established by the Head of
Research in Celest. We have only your best interests at heart, I assure you.

ALAKAR settles back into his seat, expression unreadable.

ALAKAR. Well, I don't suppose I've any room to complain. Dear Ceria has already
proven to be worth her weight in sovereigns, if not more. I shall gladly welcome
another of her esteemed colleagues into these walls, and I've no doubt that she
will likely be pleased to hear of your arrival.

NACAL. (Inclining his head) Thank you, Professor.

ALAKAR. (Returning the nod) And you, Tidekeeper. Welcome to the i'Xiia Asylum.

As the two men regard each other with cordial smiles, the velvet curtains draw
closed.

When the curtains pull apart, the room has changed. Padded walls and a thick
steel door mark this particular location as one of the Asylum's high-security
cells. A small orb of brilliant blue hangs in the air, hovering at the center
of the chamber, and below it an elderly mugwump paces about erratically,
muttering to himself.

MUGWUMP. Yes, yes, it's as clear as glass. We were exiled! Sent away to rot in
this place! No, the family wouldn't help us, the Star Council wouldn't help us,
no, send us to the filthy Magnagoran basement beneath the mountains to rot!

An elderly mugwump suddenly throws himself against the wall, pressing himself
flush against the padding and sinking the side of his head into the soft
cushioning.

MUGWUMP. They're in the walls, they are!

An elderly mugwump recoils, backing slowly to the center of the room. He turns
in a hesitant circle, regarding the padded walls with apprehension.

MUGWUMP. They're in the walls. They're coming for us, they are. We can't...we
can't get away from them, they followed us across the Basin! No! NO! GET THEM
AWAY FROM US, GET THEM AWAY!

A heavy steel door slides open, revealing a matronly merian woman garbed in a
prim nurse's uniform. She walks in quickly, the door shutting smoothly behind
her.

CERIA. (Raising her hands placatingly) Calm down, dear, calm down! Get what
away from you?

MUGWUMP. (Terrified, backing away) The insects, the insects! They followed us,
they did. They're waiting. If we go to sleep, they'll come out of the walls and
crawl all over us, crawl inside us, drown us! We can't go to sleep, we're not
safe here, you help us!

CERIA. Now, now, there are no insects here! Master Dekoven made certain of that
before we moved you, don't you remember, dear? You really shouldn't worry about
that sort of thing, not with the thorough measures he's taken. There's nothing
to be afraid of!

An elderly mugwump rushes toward Ceria, clinging to her shoulders, horrified.

MUGWUMP. (Whispering into Ceria's ear) Don't you understand, Merian? They're in
the walls, they are. They can hear you right now. If you tell us to go to sleep,
and we do, they'll come for us! They'll come for us whether you think they will
or not, we know they will!

CERIA. (Reaching into a pocket of her uniform) Now now, dear, no need to worry
yourself about these sorts of things. They'll only make you more scared, and
that wouldn't be good, would it?

CERIA withdraws a small syringe, deftly piercing the mugwump's skin and
administering a dose of vivid green serum. Almost instantly, the mugwump
relaxes, all tension fading from his frame as he slumps against the wall, held
up gently by Ceria.

MUGWUMP. (Soporifically) They're coming....they're...

An elderly mugwump drifts off into slumber, head lolling gently to one side.

CERIA (Replacing the empty syringe with a kind smile) Rest, dear, there's too
much on your poor mind as it is.

A sharp knock sounds on the steel door, and it slides open silently, giving way
to ALAKAR, who enters with an air of concern.

ALAKAR. What the devil was that about?

CERIA. (Turning and shrugging her shoulders slightly) I haven't the faintest,
Alakar. The third one this month that's been screaming something terrible about
insects. I know that they're given to delusions, but for them to share the same
one...is that normal?

ALAKAR. (Rubbing his chin) No, it isn't, I'm afraid. Not by my standards, to
say the least. Have you ever come across such a thing?

CERIA. (Shaking her head) Not once. Granted, of course, my time in the
Celestian Research Program was short, before my transfer here, but it's
completely undocumented. I've never even read of this in any of the textbooks,
let alone seen it in a patient!

ALAKAR glances up to the glowing sphere meditatively.

ALAKAR. Further examination is warranted, I should think. Move the three
subjects to separate wings of the wards, and keep an eye on them. Sooner or
later, we'll get to the bottom of this.

CERIA. I hope so, for their sake.

As ALAKAR turns and knocks on the door once more, the curtains draw slowly
closed.

The quiet hush of the theatre is suddenly broken by the underlying sound of
intermittent electrical crackling, vivid snaps that forebode violent sparks.
The curtains draw apart to reveal an open section of the main wards, where
several corridors branch off in a labyrinthine fashion. Dominating the center
of the area is a massive generator, motor whirring and crawling with
electricity. Hunched over the machine's control panel is NACAL, working in
stoic silence.

NACAL. I don't know why he wanted something like this done. Far too
unpredictable for my taste. What does he think it will accom - ouch!

NACAL draws his hand back suddenly as a vicious spark bites across his hand.

NACAL. (Sucking his finger) No, no, can't put any insulation in it, that would
limit its capabilities! What a fool.

ALAKAR. Pardon. What was that, Tidekeeper?

NACAL whirls suddenly as ALAKAR emerges from the darkness of one of the
passageways, a slight smirk on his features.

NACAL. I...was merely questioning the integrity of the machine you requested.
With your specifications, even I cannot make it completely safe.

ALAKAR. Ah, but therein lies the glory. If it fails, we can always change the
configuration. I've a hunch, you understand. Try it this way, and if it doesn't
work as expected, modify it as you see fit, mm?

NACAL glances to the control panel uncertainly before looking back to ALAKAR.

NACAL. Very well. Have the local experiments yielded any results?

ALAKAR. (Grinning toothily) But of course. Ceria?

At his call, CERIA emerges from another passageway, pushing a mugwump patient
on a rolling chair to which he has been tightly restrained.

CERIA. The latest patient exhibiting these symptoms, sir Dekoven. It's spread
considerably in these few months, as I hope you are aware.

A restrained mugwump thrashes against his bonds wildly, screaming against the
leather gag that has been forced into his mouth.

NACAL. (Shocked) Why on earth have you trussed him up so?

CERIA. For his own safety, and ours, of course.

NACAL. This is not safety, you foolish girl!

NACAL moves quickly to the wheelchair, causing CERIA to backpedal, moving
behind ALAKAR. NACAL makes short work of the restraints, the tarnished silver
clasps coming undone with a touch and a spoken word.

As soon as the bonds are released, the mugwump lunges from his seat, flailing
wildly. Uncontrolled fists batter NACAL about the head and shoulders, forcing
him to retreat.

MUGWUMP. Get it out, get it out! It's killing us, IT'S KILLING US! It's your
fault, it's all your fault!!

NACAL. (Reaching out with his hands) No, no, I've not done anything, I don't
know what you...

MUGWUMP. (Moving forward to wrap his hands around Nacal's neck) YOU! THESE ARE
YOUR FOUL CREATIONS!

NACAL chokes feebly, clutching at his throat. The mugwump's grip tightens, and
he gives an insane cackle.

Suddenly, a sharp buzzing breaks through NACAL's sporadic gurgles, and the
mugwump spasms uncontrollably, falling to the ground. ALAKAR stands behind the
fallen patient, holding a small device that sparks with electricity.

ALAKAR. You see? It is unwise for all parties involved to let them wander
about.

NACAL. (Rising, rubbing his throat) Yes, I see that. Why electricity, though?

ALAKAR. (Gesturing to the fallen mugwump) Watch.

The mugwump has fallen onto his stomach, breath labored and coming in short
gasps. Residual twitches crawl along his arms and legs, and he moans faintly.

Abruptly, his entire body tenses up, and terrible sucking noises emanate from
his throat. He gags bizarrely against the stone floor and coughs, a hacking
noise that wracks his entire body.

A small impact is heard on the stone, and the mugwump immediately relaxes, his
breathing gradually returning to normal. From beneath his frame, a small black
parasite scuttles out, moving rapidly for the hem of NACAL's robe. The merian
reacts instinctively, one booted foot coming up to crush the thing, leaving a
sticky mess of crimson ichor.

NACAL. (Recoiling) That...what is that?

ALAKAR. (Distastefully) A parasite, as best as we have been able to determine.
They rest within the stomach of the afflicted, feeding off of the host's own
sustenance and in turn providing the hallucinations that seem to plague the
majority of the patient populace.

NACAL. How the devil did they get in here to begin with?

CERIA. (Advancing slowly) We don't know any more than you do, sir, where that's
concerned. The most likely scenario is that a few patients were in possession of
them when they were committed, and the parasites were able to feed and spread to
the remainder of the wards while in the Asylum.

NACAL turns to regard the generator with new understanding flashing in his
eyes.

NACAL. Then, this generator...you intend to shock the entire patient population
at once?

ALAKAR. Naturally. If we only tend to one at a time, it would be rather
fruitless if the parasites continued to spread.

NACAL. (Dryly) You realize, of course, that a flood of the things would be
unleashed upon the wardens? Upon ourselves? Not to mention, of course, that we
would be electrocuted in the process. All according to your grand design.

ALAKAR rubs his chin thoughtfully.

ALAKAR. Mm, you may have a point there, Dekoven. What do you suggest, then?

NACAL raises a hand, causing a chill mist to manifest from thin air and wrap
around the machine, encasing it in a thick layer of ice and prompting a gasp
from Ceria.

NACAL. Seek another avenue of treatment.

"Professor i'Xiia! Professor i'Xiia!"

ALAKAR stands sputtering at the frozen generator for a moment before whirling
in a fit of rage.

ALAKAR. What do you want?!

An asylum doctor skids in from the main passage, operational uniform obscuring
most of his features.

DOCTOR. The control room, sir, it came in over the radio!

ALAKAR. What did, you blithering idiot?

DOCTOR. The Cosmic Hope Expedition! His Grace the Emperor has lost all contact
with the aetherwave hosts here, and some sort of dark cloud has formed over
Magnagora. It will be upon the Asylum in a matter of hours!

NACAL. Dark cloud? What's happened to the Emperor?

CERIA. No, that's impossible. Emperor Ladantine had only the highest hopes for
this project!

ALAKAR. (Raising a hand for silence) Enough! Nacal, I will deal with you and
your ice-prone tendencies later. Now, everyone to the control room. The
patients cannot be put into any more jeopardy.

NACAL glares daggers at ALAKAR before deferring with an insolent nod. ALAKAR,
ignorant, takes off down the main passage with a brisk walk, robes swirling
about him in a white storm.

Aether static bursts across the theatre as the curtains draw shut.

(i'Xiia Asylum): Alakar i'Xiia says, "Ceria! Ceria, where are you?"

(i'Xiia Asylum): Ceria Inalai says, "I'm in the wards! I've got to make certain
that everyone is in one of the cells. Wardens, patients, it doesn't matter.
We've got to get inside, if this cloud is truly what the others believe it to
be!

(i'Xiia Asylum): Alakar i'Xiia says, "Alright. I've bolted the lobby doors
shut, I'm going to my office. Hurry and finish what you're doing, and come join
me. We've got to move quickly. Nacal?

(i'Xiia Asylum): Nacal Dekoven says, "Here, Professor. I'm shutting the
machines down from the main console."

(i'Xiia Asylum): Alakar i'Xiia says, "All right. I'm on my way down as we
speak, hurry and finish - "

The sound of wrenching steel scraping against stone screams through the air,
and Alakar's voice grows silent.

(i'Xiia Asylum): Ceria Inalai says, "Alakar! Alakar, the elevator's gone past
the wards. I can't get in. Alakar!"

The screeching grows louder, a violent cacophony that makes the dim lights in
the theatre flicker crazily.

(i'Xiia Asylum): Nacal Dekoven says, "It's gone straight past the staff
facilities, as well. Alakar, you fool, we need to get into your office!"

A sudden, deafening crash brings the screeching to a halt, and fragments of
stone and metal fly out from beneath the stage's curtains.

(i'Xiia Asylum): Ceria Inalai says, "He's crashed. Sweet Light, he's crashed.
No!"

(i'Xiia Asylum): Nacal Dekoven says, "Ceria, get into one of the cells, we
haven't the time to waste. I'll find my own way."

(i'Xiia Asylum): Ceria Inalai says, "Alakar! ALAKAR!"

(i'Xiia Asylum): Nacal Dekoven says, "Ceria. Listen to me. That old codger
could survive the entire building imploding upon itself. He will be fine, I
promise. You, on the other hand, need to get to safety. Now. Move!"

(i'Xiia Asylum): Ceria Inalai says, "...Alright. Alright, I'm going. Nacal,
will you be safe?"

(i'Xiia Asylum): Ceria Inalai says, "...Nacal?..."

A chill, acrid wind blows through the theatre from no apparent source, bringing
in the stench of death and decay, of chemicals gone rancid. Suddenly, a violent
gale blows from the stage, causing the curtains to fly up and bringing an
ephemeral dark cloud onto the entire audience, hovering sickly.

The wind continues to blow, whirling the Taint about the theatre before the
curtains can stand it no longer, flying from their housings with a sickening
snap of metal and wood, the supporting rod sending the red velvet cloth sailing
overhead to impact the rear of the theatre with a bang.

The dark cloud disperses, revealing the bottom of an elevator shaft. The
twisted wreckage of the Asylum's elevator lies strewn about the craggy floor,
shards and bars of silver glimmering darkly in the dim, natural light from far
above. In the middle of the transport's remains, the unmoving body of Alakar
i'Xiia lies beneath a pile of bars, no signs of life visible.

Suddenly, ALAKAR shifts, rising slowly to his hands and knees, the bars of the
elevator sliding from his back with dull clinks.

ALAKAR. (Groggily) What...what happened? Ceria, Nacal. I've got to...got to get
them to safety...

ALAKAR comes slowly to his feet, pain and stiffness visible in his every
movement. He brushes himself off slowly, turning to gaze at his surroundings.
The Taint has darkened his skin to a rotten brown, and his eyes glimmer with a
dark red. He twitches spasmodically, rolling his neck experimentally with a
gruesome crack.

(i'Xiia Asylum): Alakar i'Xiia says, "Ceria?"

(i'Xiia Asylum): Ceria Inalai says, "Alakar! I thought you'd died!"

ALAKAR presses two fingers to the side of his neck. His eyes widen slightly,
and he moves his fingers to a different position, pressing slightly.

(i'Xiia Asylum): Alakar i'Xiia says, "I...believe I might have. I'm at the
bottom of the elevator shaft, it seems like."

(i'Xiia Asylum): Ceria Inalai says, "You make no sense! You're talking to me
right now, you can't be dead! Just a moment, let me try to get down there."

Far above, the wrenching of a door may be heard, coming open with a bang. A
chain rattles overhead, and after a moment, a rhythmic clinking begins softly,
growing louder with time. Abruptly, CERIA slides down into view, clinging to
the ruined chain of the elevator.

CERIA. (Alighting on the ground and spying Alakar) You're alive! I knew it!

ALAKAR. Ceria-

CERIA. (Rushing to Alakar and enveloping him in a tight embrace) I'm so glad...

ALAKAR raises his hands impotently, and after a moment, CERIA draws back,
shocked.

CERIA. Your...your heart. Alakar, it's not...

ALAKAR. Beating, yes. I know.

ALAKAR surveys CERIA for the first time, and furrows his brow in a frown. One
hand goes out, a finger deftly swiping away a strand of congealed blood that
clings to his digit along with a bit of liquefied muscle tissue.

ALAKAR. (Regarding the tissue with a mix of horror and curiosity) You should be
dead, too, dear.

ALAKAR twitches spasmodically.

CERIA. (Blinking, bringing a hand up to her own face) I'm not...I'm here, just
as you are.

ALAKAR. (Eyes gleaming darkly) And Nacal?

CERIA. (Listlessly, staring at the blood on Alakar's hand) Gone. Gone, he's
gone. I've heard nothing.

ALAKAR chuckles malevolently.

ALAKAR. More's the pity. That fool questioned my methods every step of the way.
Now, perhaps, we shall actually be able to get some work done.

CERIA. (Blinking) But...the Taint. What has it done?

ALAKAR. (Placing a hand to Ceria's shoulder) It has protected us, dear Ceria. I
am not dead, nor are you. A Divine significance to continue our...saving of the
patients, mm?

CERIA blinks once more, a small, sinister smirk blooming on her pale face.

CERIA. Of course. The...parasites must be purged from them, mustn't they?

ALAKAR. Oh, yes. I should imagine that it will be rather painful for the
patients, but it is, after all for their own good.

CERIA. For their own good, of course, Alakar. Benevolent as always.

ALAKAR cackles, placing a hand to CERIA's chin.

ALAKAR. My life's calling, Ceria, and nothing more.

ALAKAR glances up the shaft, snickering.

ALAKAR. We've work to do, if we are to reopen our doors and admit more
patients.

CERIA laughs shrilly, fiendish delight upon her face.

CERIA. Oh, yes. New methods of surgery, new formulae to test, and new patients.

ALAKAR. Delectable. Empires fall, but my Asylum remains. Our Asylum remains.

CERIA. (Eyes twinkling darkly) Forever, Alakar. You've survived certain death.
A miracle, to continue your work. You are a master, a God!

ALAKAR. Every God needs a kingdom, an army.

CERIA. Then I shall give you one.

ALAKAR chuckles darkly, moving to tug on the elevator chain experimentally.

ALAKAR. At my right hand, Ceria. Ever at my right hand. Come, let us see to our
kingdom.

The stage falls to black as the natural light from above fades, the last light
remaining from the dark red glow in the two pairs of eyes that glare
malevolently out at the audience before winking into nothingness.