Fenrir's Fangs

Well, after 120 days of being forgotten, lets bring this thing back to life

Hobo almost lost it. The voices had almost consumed him. In a last ditch effort, he sits into a meditation pose and enters inside his own mind.

It's all formless chaos inside here. Crimson skies overlook the floating pieces of land. Rain of blood pours on these shapeless landmasses. The resulting humidity brings life to dark forms of plant life: cannibalistic trees, plants with jaws, flowers that spit out poison fumes, ordinary grass was pitch black and was sharp as razors.

Hobo had arrived to one of these landmasses. He was shocked by the sight. The voices have corrupted his mind extremely. There was no sign of where the True Self was. Hobo was afraid that he would fail to regain his sanity. Then his eyes caught sight of a dark figure sitting on the branch of one of the killer trees.
The figure emitted a black mist around itself. The face could not be seen, only two yellow gems that were in place of eyes. It was clad in dark armor. A rapier with a very decorated handle hanged in the sheathe on the waist. The figure jumped off the tree. The immobile predator yelled at the figure, to which he replied by slicing it in half with the rapier in almost lightning speed. Then the figure walked towards Hobo and began to speak on the move with a menacing voice:
- Well you sure have guts to be here. If I knew my mind became an **** of cannibalistics mutants, I'd think twice, before entering it.
- If your life was about to end because of the said ****, you'd jump in here without a second thought. - replied Hobo without showing any sign of insecurity towards the figure.
- Perhaps. But I'd definetly think twice before entering here for another reason: somewhere down here a very pissed of ego is located. Pissed that it's host decided to banish it to the abyss of the soul.
- It's not my fault it decided to possess me. All I did was ensure my survival. Honestly, you'd do the same, if you were me.
- Maybe that's because I am you?
- You're my ego. You're only part of me. I understand your worries: you're what dies, when this body expires. But should you really be afraid of death? When the end comes, you'll look upon yourself and utter "I had a good run. Knew my odds and took the chances".
- I'd be immortal, if I could take your body.
- No you wouldn't. You're not the soul. You'd die either way.
The figure clutches his fist in anger. He then asks
- Why did you come here? Do you honestly think you have a chance of stopping the madness in here?
- Alone, no. But I'm hoping my pissed off ego would lend me a hand.
- And why would it do that?
- Well, if the madness takes hold of me, where will that leave you?
- On a sunny beach with all the girls you ever wanted in your life, which are all burried in your secret desires.
- You think my imagination will remain untouched by the madness?
- It may...and it may not. Madness is a tricky thing, ya know. Never know what's going to come out of it.
- I assure you, the demons that took hold of me have no good wishes for what remains here.
- Figures. I mean, if they wanted me to stay, then these mutant plants and everything else that crawls here wouldn't try to kill me! I can't walk to the Imagination Bar without getting into a fight with a vicious grizzly frog! ****, it's like I'm in Skyrim again!
- Imagination bar?
- Well just because I'm in the abyss of your soul, doesn't mean it has to be boring here. I'm human too, sort of...I need entertainment as well.
- Then you have all the more reason to help me regain my sanity back.
- *Sigh*, we tried to kill each other in the past and now we're allies. Ironic, isn't it?
- I've been in a similar situation many times. Nothing new for me.
- Whatever. So, where do we begin?
- Well for starters, I could use a weapon.
- You're inside your own mind. Gather what sanity you have left and forge one!
- Alright, I'll give it a shot.
Hobo raises his hand and focuses his mind. Dark matter appears in the form of a ball in his hand and dark energy spins around it. Slowly, the ball stretches, materialising into a solid blade out of a black metal. After some time, Hobo has his Dusk Razor restored and ready.
The figure gives his opinion:
- Well, that'll do for some of the local freaks.
- Probably.
- Next course of action?
- We find the True Self and find out where these demons came from.
- Ahh, that might be problematic. He's still where he should be: right in the centre of your soul. But the voices have surrounded him with an awful lot of their own minions.
- How many?
- Too many for just us two.
- We need an army?
- You got that right! We're gonna need an awful lot of firepower to break through that line and get to the True Self. Firepower we can't afford right now!
- Where do we get it?
- Use your imagination! You just forged a sword out of thin air, now go forge an army.
- I don't have enough sanity for that.
- Well then, lets get you some, - the figure turns around and points into a landmass in the vicinity - that place has less monsters than everything else. I reckon it's a good place to start fighting for your mind.
Hobo walks up to the figure and places his hand on it's shoulder
- You know, Scalpel, I think this is the beginning of a wonderful friendship.
- Awww, you really think so?
- Sure. Now lets go kick some psychic ass.
- **** YEAH!

And the two walk towards the abyss full of monsters with their blades ready.