Joshua Sands - Tower Arcana - Court of Miracles - Mysterious Stone Tower
Meanwhile, Joshua was screaming like a madman as he tore up the stairs. The reason for the sudden mad panic was that some of the iron candelabras on the inside wall beside him had decided to start spewing jets of flame. Presumably for giggles. Either way, he was now sweating for a third reason, in addition to the vigorous exercise and general fear. "THIS IS RI-GODDAMN-DICULOUS RIGHT NOW!" At least there had been no more trap stairs in the fifty or so steps he'd climbed before hitting the deadly fire jets, and he was now advancing at a much faster rate.
Not that he particularly cared about the silver lining right now.
A couple of flames had licked his jacket so far, but almost tripping on a step meant that he ended up catching the brunt of one right to the back of his leather jacket. He howled in pain before ripping it off and trampling it to extinguish a couple of lit patches.
It was at this point he realised the salesman had lied to him, and his jacket was in fact, synthetic. That rat.
Fortunately for Joshua, he wasn't badly hurt, as his jacket had protected him from most of the burns, and he'd got it off him quickly. It was more the shock than anything else that was bothering him. Fire jets? Seriously? Admittedly, still not the craziest thing he'd seen in the Court, but goddammit, this was getting close. If he didn't have his healing spell, this would be pretty much insurmountable. But at he least was past the fire jets... So that was something. As he'd ascended, the sound he'd started to hear near the axe-wielding knights began to rise, and at this point, he could clearly identify it as a pipe organ.
Shadow Joshua was such a shameless Phantom of the Opera-ripoff, Joshua was half-expecting to fall into some kind of drowning pit. And with this tower, it was a distinct possibility.
He passed a few more paintings as he climbed though, featuring some more lovely stills from the weakest moments of his life. Being blasted by Shadow Ciara's Megido. Clutching his head in his hands while on his knees as the same villain, in essence, raped his mind. Driving away from his old home, beside his mother in the front seat, looking in the mirror, just in case he was there. All designed to remind him of the moments that he believed was nothing, or was being crushed underfoot by someone else. How he'd always felt.
Nothing at all.
The organ music was getting louder.