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When Lo'el manages to flag down one of the long-suffering servers and relay his request, her brow furrow. "I'm sorry, but... the gentleman in the corner already paid for your round of food and drink." She cranes her head, and then quizzically says, "Where did he... never mind, I'll get the ale." As the server turns away, both the faun and Alec make eye contact with a man in the entrance to the pub; tanned, craggy skin with salt-and-pepper hair close-cut and the hard gray eyes of a combat veteran. Seeing that two at the table have spotted them, the man smiles tightly, touches his brow with a half nod of acknowledgment, and turns and heads out the door with his bland brown cloth clothes disappearing into the growing twilight. The mugs arrive. On the bottom of one is a rather damp, ragged square of paper, with the words. "Don't trust. Traitors are everywhere." written in what appears to be ash. Just because you're paranoid~ Lo'el does not need to pay.
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Mar 31, 2012 19:50
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| # ¿ May 13, 2024 15:30 |
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As the heroes go to bed, some groggy, some still wincing in pain at scars that have already healed and some worried about what the next day may bring- few worry about what may find them in their dreams. The worry is all about their bodies, and not their souls. Neither, to be fair, are safe; but as the surprisingly soft, warm beds enfold all in their embrace to take them off to the land of dreams the worries of a more frenetic mind seem... trivial. And so, for the night, most are left to their own fond devices, to mix the day's events into an interesting if unclear melange of emotions and impressions that do little to inform or clarify the events that they have been inserted into. It is, for most, just simply another night in a strange room with all the attendant difficulties of getting to sleep. Isit starts awake once, in the small of the night, as a piece of paper crinkles inside her door... but a thorough if groggy search reveals nobody, and the elf soon drifts back to her own dreams of past acquaintances in less pleasant times. Perhaps strange breezes muss a hair or two on Lette's head, perhaps Alec is not so alone as he thinks while his fantasies carry him to a more pleasant place for a moment, but- at least until morning- there's nothing so sharp as to rouse everyone from ordinary dreams. ...except for Dolan.  Seemingly seconds after his head hits the pillow, Dolan wakes back up in another land. A little green nook nestled inbetween two peaks overlooking a valley, the valley where his true home's cave had its main entrance. There's a morning fog blanketing the valley floor now, but he knows its layout as surely as he knows his own mind... though that might be a poor choice of analogies, since the voice he heard when he was knocked out drifts back to the fore. "So pleasant to be with you again," the warm woman's voice drifts into his mind. "Watching you today was enlightening, sweet Dolan. I understand you so much more. Soon, even more! I know I can help you." When he turns to try to look at the voice, there's nobody there- just a ghostly voice in his head, intruding on the scene from his youth, and a... familiar, now, warmth spreading through his body. "I'm nobody sweet Dolan. You can help me become somebody. With you." A pleasant laugh, and a tingling feeling down the dwarf's spine. "I will borrow some of what you don't need. Don't worry. We keepers of secrets have to keep our words. I will repay you. Soon. We will see each other far more clearly... soon." And like that, the voice fades; soon after, the pleasant, nostalgic scene does as well, warm heat ebbing and pulsing inside the dwarf's mind as he drifts back into oblivion. The waking hours find everyone hale and hearty, more or less; Dolan feels inexplicably tired for just having woken up, but he can feel his native abilities reenergizing him even as he rises. Dolan has lost 4 FP, but will regain them naturally with his recover energy spell. Nobody else can tell anything amiss about their rooms on waking.
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Apr 3, 2012 03:05
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As all wake up, Alec quickly does as he was told and heads to get his arm fixed; making his way through the early morning crowds pressing in on all sides (but managing to avoid jostling his injured arm), the northman finds the 'hospital' without much difficulty. They aren't, technically speaking, "open" yet at the early hour. Despite that, the elven doctor with extremely bloodshot eyes manages to get through the healing incantations without fault, and Alec is treated again to the skin-crawling feeling of muscle and flesh knitting together in seconds. His arm's still a little tight- but usable, now. Dolan gets no response. The inn already has a small throng at the bar, with some who rise even earlier than Isit already getting food; still, one coin spends as well as any other, and a bleary server takes her coin, repeats her order, and within a few minutes a cloth bundle of food is produced.
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Apr 3, 2012 14:54
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Dolan sees to his open business with a businesslike precision, drawing the runes despite the flare of heat in his mind as he begins channeling the energy; his vision dims for an instant as he finishes casting, but nothing more unpleasant occurs. Instead, he's treated to the parts of the prior day he didn't see yesterday; all the passengers, including Kat, are seated and desperate... and as soon as the wagon stops, Kat quickly worms her way under the seat, just where she'd been found. The refugees get herded off, just as for the other wagon, and after a long delay the wagons start up again... whereupon Kat promptly emerges from under her seat and goes about very cautiously spending much of the next several hours in and out of view as she nears the front of the wagon, hunched over to stay low and in the shadows to avoid being seen. She moves with calm purpose a young girl wouldn't oft display unless she was very interested in centaurs- and soon before the vision comes to the fight Dolan's familiar with, the young girl wriggles her way back into her hiding place. Scryguard has faded. History roll is successful.
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Apr 4, 2012 02:41
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There's a rush of heat to Dolan's head, but it doesn't quickly abate this time; it builds slowly, making the dwarf's skin flush as something begins to happen. There's a sense of pressure all around his mind, somehow, until finally- sounding as strained as if she's trying to talk while lifting a loaded horsecart- the voice replies faintly inside Dolan's head, "I... apologize... meant no harm... soon..." The alien sensations then collapse in a rush. At the guard house, Captain Dirksen's busy shepherding a few new recruits for armor familiarization, but listens to Dolan's report with half an ear. "Magic? But it didn't show anything out of the ordinary?" The quarter-orc pauses. "Damned odd. I'll pass it on to the Mayor, see what he makes of it. You'll be heading out today? The guards returned after sundown, said the tracks followed the road north as far as they could ride until just vanishing near the fork to the north."
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Apr 4, 2012 14:25
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"Hnnnnh." The Captain avers. "No horses to spare. Have to keep the few we've got at our disposal in case more attacks come in where we have to mount a rescue quickly. It's all quite here, but how long that will last..." He shrugs. Alec's obviously-not-from-around-here visage draws a few long and frankly baffled stares before, at last, a rather nervous young man approaches with his hand outstretched. "I, um... I'm a junior clerk? I uh, guess I could take it..."
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Apr 5, 2012 03:39
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"You're... not kidding?" The captain stops watching his charges, and gives Isit a hooded look. "The town's too busy for the gates it does have- they're all crammed full of people, I'm afraid. Especially at this hour."
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Apr 5, 2012 04:20
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The guard armory contains much the same material as it had had before the group's hurried jaunt outside the walls the day before; chestplates and helmets in various states of polish but all in fine repair, shortswords and clubs... a few crossbows, but largely a city guard had no need of heavier hardware. Perhaps that would change in the weeks to come, but for the time being they were policemen and not true soldiers. The northern gate- and a brief reconnaissance showed that indeed all the gates out of the walls were choked with people- no real advantage to be gained through stealth, there's nothing for it but to simply squeeze in with the others and try to get north and out of sight as rapidly as possible. Less than a mile from town, the rescue mission at Isit's direction slides off the road and into the cornfields; they're not quite tall enough to hide everyone from view, but do a decent job at concealment and have a good chance at concealment in a pinch just by dropping to a squat. The morning continues, sun climbing over the horizon and beginning to warm the air; it promised to be a hotter day than before, but without any clouds in the sky to threaten rain a nice breeze is already keeping the weather tolerable. All seems to be going well; the road is kept prudently just within sight to avoid losing their bearings, while making it difficult for them to be spotted from passing wagons in turn. Far overhead, a tiny speck appears in the sky, coming from the south; after a bit of scrutiny, those with better eyesight recognize it as a black dragon. It appears content to remain at altitude, whirling around in some invisible thermal... but it also seems disinclined to move on. Dragons often preyed on sheep, deer, and other livestock though less commonly armed humans- far easier meals were often available. Still, from this height, a group of humans moving from the cornfields could easily be mistaken- or missed- by even a dragon's keen eyes, and once a dragon nosed over into a hunting dive it wasn't likely that one would break off just because of mistaken identity.
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Apr 7, 2012 16:56
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Far above, the dragon turns in a large, lazy circle as it surveys the vast expanse of field below. No way to tell who, but someone's attempts at stealth fail; with an abrupt turn, the small shape high in the sky pivots and seems to stand still in the sky... only to begin growing very rapidly. The great black beast folds its wings in, looking more like a massive scaled bullet than anything else as the yards are eaten away. There are only seconds before the dragon will pull out of the hunting dive and, depending on its fancy, simply slam into the ground and absorb the shock through its massive legs or flare and begin trying to pick people off one after another.
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Apr 9, 2012 02:46
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The mule brays when smacked, and staggers forward a few steps before staying rooted in place with its head turned to glare at the sky. The dragon looms closer, and as everyone scatters in a panic, the mule brays again in defiance. The dragon grows in size at a terrifying rate, mouth gaping to give anyone on the ground masochistic enough to look up a good look at the horrible giant fangs rushing right at them... Maybe it's coincidence. Maybe it's fate. Maybe it's a practical joke from a god that specializes in particularly cruel illusions. ...the dragon's wings flare, and it pulls up less than ten feet from the ground. The buffeting wind of its passage, warm and incongruously smelling slightly of cinnamon, hits the cropfields with almost as much force as a landing would have; corn is flattened, and the sudden gust knocks everyone down. The dragon roars off at appalling speed to the north, the same direction the party was going, and... doesn't return. A long minute passes. The birds, frightened into silence, start to cautiously cheep again nearby. The mule, apparently unimpressed, begins chewing a cornstalk.
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Apr 10, 2012 04:40
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After a few sheepish minutes checking around to be sure all the packs and possessions have been found, the group is- albeit a little more cautiously, and with half an eye to the blue sky above- back on its way. Fenton seems largely content to plod on at his own pace, with little interest in speeding up or slowing down based on the whims of anyone prodding or coaxing him along. Under the mule's lead, then, the party settles into a mile-eating, time-killing pace as they travel through the fields of grain that once fed a majority of the Empire. The trail, when they find it, is an obvious one; the centaurs trod along the side of the road in the softer dirt right at the edge of the cropland. Along with hoofprints, there's enough cornstalks with traces of horsehair or blood on them that in Alec's expert opinion the trail could be followed by any random city-dwelling child without being too particularly taxed. That being the case, and knowing that the trail largely followed the road, the party was free to linger a ways away from exposure while darting back to the path occasionally to check and be sure that they were still following the centaurs' trail. Morning becomes noon, and afternoon evening, and still the rolling plains unfold. The sun just touches the horizon when the road's fork comes into view- and, just as the city guards said, the easy to follow trail simply stopped abruptly right at the widening of the road that marked the divergence of roads to the northwest (towards Kat's hometown that the refugees had fled form) and northeast (in the rough direction of the mountains, and somewhat nearer the forest Lord Roland had mentioned as a monster hideout.) Impossible to tell- at least in the failing light- what direction their quarry had gone to, there seems little choice but to make rudimentary camp near the fork and pick the trail back up come dawn.
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Apr 12, 2012 00:32
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The group makes their nighttime preparations, and quickly after a hard day of work following their trail the fatigue is such that those lucky enough to sleep first are out cold in seconds. Martin and Lette, however much they may wish they can join them, are forced to remain awake as the sun slips below the horizon and brings night to the plains. Soon enough, the stars come out, seemingly so numerous and brilliant that there shouldn't be any problem reading by their light... but only a thin crescent moon to the south gives any light at all, and that paltry. There'd be no way at all to see anyone sneaking up on them; sound and smell it would have to be, all the while trying to keep their weary minds from falling asleep in turn. A difficult job, and thankless- though those who have the other watches are sure enough to have their own issues with trying to wake and remain awake for their own. Still, the cool air does feel pleasant after a warm, sweaty day; Fenton contents himself with chewing a few more cornstalks down to nubs and then bedding down himself not very far from his temporary human masters. Once the nonchalant mule is asleep, there's few other noises to liven the sensory deprivation, as none seem to come to behead the party in their sleep. Faint birdsong from the trail provides if anything a useful jolt to the ears to remind them to be paying attention. The few lonely birds trill a few deep lines of song before falling silent to tend to their own sleep, leaving Martin and Lette once more alone at night. --- Isit comes to amidst a sight she's seen and heard about many times. It is the part of war that makes veterans laugh at young, eager turks- the aftermath. A full moon shines down, providing enough illumination of a field whose grass seems red from all the bloodshed for the elf to be able to easily see the bodies strewn around with various open wounds. There is no life on this field. It's been abandoned to the dead, with even the dying no longer present. In the distance, a lone hill gleams- metal arms and armor so thickly strewn that the entire hill seems to have been plated in steel, glimmering in the moonlight like a horrible and terrifying jewel. None of the bodies stir. It's a desolate scene, and the archer is abandoned and alone inside it. It feels real, more real than all but the worst of the nightmares she's used to- but nothing comes out to threaten her, or even feels... wrong. There's a placid peace about the battlefield, not the frenetic tension of a trap to be sprung. Instead, it's all calm in a way that would be soothing were it not for the smells of early decay spread all around. There was a battle here, and by the size of the remnants it was either Isit's dream conjuring some fantastic speculation or the battle that ended the Empire in a few hours of brother-on-brother massacre. It could be no other in history. The stillness, then, is broken by a single low, reedy moan from the ground behind Isit. --- The other three, Dolan, Lo'el, and Alec, are roused to wakefulness by a breeze- but when they stand, that they're not where they used to be is apparent. The full moon hangs overhead, but all the colors of the cornfield and world are washed out into shades of gray; the world seems flatter, almost as though it were a painting that stretched around them with all the figures merely cutouts arranged in space rather than solid objects. The two who remained awake to watch are no longer present, nor is Isit anywhere to be found. The air's bitterly cold, far more than it should be, made worse by the nudity of Alec and Lo'el as even the faintest breeze bites its way into their flesh. Dolan, however... from the neck down, covering all his arms, legs, and extremities, is swathed in what seems to be a formless pink mist that just barely obscures and shields the flesh beneath; small fingers of mist extend up his neck to his jawline, but no further. The dwarf, for his own part, feels none of the cold the others do; rather he is completely comfortable in the strange landscape. Far off, a single wolf howls.
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Apr 13, 2012 02:14
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Isit's response is another low, weak moan; behind her, as she turns, there's a man with mortal wounds laying on the ground. There's a vicious cut across his face, ruining an eye, and another matching wound across his belly; that he hasn't bled out yet is a small miracle, given how much blood's around him there can't be much left inside the body. He stares with his one good eye at Isit, gaze clouded with pain. He tries to speak, but instead can only gurgle. Overhead, crows begin to circle, finally getting in line for their share of the spoils.
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Apr 13, 2012 02:42
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Isit, knowing that she had a duty to administer the final mercy to a fellow soldier, soothes the grievously wounded man into a stupor. He's not bleeding anymore, despite having multiple wounds gaping- were it not for the fact that he was still somehow breathing, the elf would swear the man already dead. One of the crows flutters down, landing just out of arm's reach and staring at Isit with large, knowing eyes. The elf draws her blade across the wounded man's throat- but no blood comes from his warm flesh, and instead only draws a weak keening from his ravaged lungs. A flutter, a sudden sensation of warmth, and then with the loud bustle of flapping wings another crow lands on Isit's shoulder. Good instinct. A young, female voice tersely notes, words forming in Isit's head. But not enough, not in this realm. You can't just use a physical blade to release a suffering spirit. His body is gone- the spirit is simply lingering. Release him- but use your mind, not your hands.
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Apr 13, 2012 03:23
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Another crow flaps down, landing on Isit's other shoulder with a soft caw. That's right. Focus. The voice urges. Here, in this world, your will's a sharper knife than anything you brought with you. Learn to use it. This poor soul didn't. The last few words carried a trace of sadness, as one of the crows half-flapped its wings as it tried to keep balance on the shifting soldier. Isit bore down and focused; trying to visualize what she was doing, she cut again with the knife- but this time, the blade passes uselessly through the flesh. Instead, the elf can feel something snag on something deeper, inside the man; he jerks at the touch. Pushing, seeing the cords cut in her mind before it actually happens, Isit severs the spirit from the mortally wounded body. There's a breath, and the wounded soldier sags; for an instant Isit can feel the spirit streaming past her face and bringing all her nerves to tingling as though brushed with a light feather. Congratulations. The voice observes, as another pair of crows flutter down to land on the dead man's chest. You've just killed someone for the first time. My condolences.
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Apr 13, 2012 04:46
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The birds burst into brief snatches of song again as Lette and Martin converse in hushed tones. Perhaps for the same reasons- or perhaps just mimicing the other sounds they can barely hear. The cool stars shine down, and the moon casts just enough light to see Alec start to shiver in the nighttime chill despite his bedding. Clear night- no sign of the clouds that had loomed the prior morning, or of the storm they'd threatened, but the weather was a fickle thing on the plains. Hard to be sure what it would do even without a capricious god directing it. There's a very, very faint howl of a wolf in the far distance- miles and miles away, nowhere near close enough to be worried. --- Not quite-. The voice adds, before another half dozen birds swirl down from the sky, landing on the deceased's corpse. There's an instant of disorientation, as Isit's stomach tries to turn ninety degrees inside her body, and then standing on the other side of the dead man is a young woman, around Lette's age; black hair, eyes dark enough brown to look back, and a pair of giant crow's wings folding behind her back. "But yes, I'm Vuoksi. Pleased to meet you- Isit, is it?" The goddess gives a very small chuckle at the tired joke, but doesn't have any twinkle of pleasure in her eyes as she does. She reaches down and straightens the fairly plain brown cloth tunic and trousers, looking around the battlefield. "All you ever did was damage people's bodies beyond repair. What you did right then was to actually kill someone instead of simply summoning me to do it for you. Few do it, and most who do aren't particularly pleasant people. Now... what are you doing here? I was called here by this man, though I wasted a few seconds looking over the actual battlefield over in the waking world." From the tone of her voice, a few seconds' delay was both unusual and irritating. "Not many people die on this side after this last year. Unusual to find someone else in a dying man's dream, though- did you know him?" --- The wolf howls again, closer this time. Still only one throat, though. That seems to be the only response the faun receives, until overhead a pearly colored translucent dragon glides with barely-flapping wings a few dozen yards overhead. It's looking at them- and certainly appears to be the same dragon that had stalked them earlier in the day. A rustle of hoofbeats comes from behind them, approaches closer... and fades out before reaching them. The corn doesn't rustle, even when there's a breeze, adding to the unnatural feel of this place; the ground is hard, not soft like dirt. There aren't any stars, the field looks the same in all directions, there's no smell- no smells at all. The more the dreamers' senses adjust, the more alien and half-formed the dream seems.
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Apr 13, 2012 15:09
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As Dolan begins trying to cast the familiar spell, all the apparitions seem to pause in their tracks, looking at him. It's rather creepy; the dragon, in midair, isn't bothering to flap its wings but is still suspended in midair above the trio. The pink mist around him grows thicker, and the familiar touch of heat suffuses his background... but abruptly, Dolan can hear the voice speaking with more urgency than it ever has, "NO! DON'T!" She sounds... panicked, and speaking (or thinking) so loudly the other two can hear at the very edges of their perception a faint female voice. It's just too late, though- Dolan can feel the stones, more real than any of the bizarre dreamscape, collecting in his grasp and ready to be hurled at the foes besetting him. The apparitions, for their own part, keep their total and undivided attention on the dwarf. Alec makes further discoveries about how real the dream world is; the cornstalks he grabs tear off smoothly with almost no effort, but have no weight or heft to them. They're almost like shadows of the true things back in the waking world. Stone Missile successfully cast and ready for use. --- "You didn't?" Vuoksi raises her eyebrows. "Interesting. Were you... here?" With a sweep of her arm, she encompasses the entire battlefield. "You know, some of my sisters called this my finest hour. My biggest triumph." She snorts, and ruffles her wings. "I call it a damned waste, if you want to know my opinion. All these dead people, and for what? An empire that was already doomed." The goddess shakes her head. "But anyway, don't worry. It's rare enough that I get to meet anyone for more than, well, a few seconds while I'm on duty that I don't begrudge it. This man-" she pauses, cocking her head and staring off into nothing. "He... was caught by a pack of... the proper word is, I think, scavengers. Weak spirits, hardly any power to them, but they formed a group and hounded him through nightmares until they were able to sap enough energy to persuade him he was dying. When that happened, his mind cast out for some familiar scene he could rationalize dying in, and-" she nods to the ground. "Here he died. He didn't linger very long. A minute, perhaps, after the spirits were through... feeding." Vuoksi wrinkles her nose as she pronounces the last word like a particularly noxious smell. "Keep that in mind, though. In this half of the world, willpower and belief is everything. If you can be persuaded you're hurt, or dying, you are. Fights here go to the most stubborn, as often as not, or at least the more experienced with these rules. And dying on this side is usually much more unpleasant than in the waking world. But now that you're here... I really should be off, but... you're sure you have no connection to this man?" --- As if to confirm Lette's words, a similar howl rings out in the far distance to the west. Alec doesn't stop shivering when the blanket goes over him, but does half curl in on himself to preserve a little more bodily warmth. A slight breeze rustles the corn stalks, and draws another spate of birdsong... oddly, seemign to come from the road where the trail left off.
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Apr 14, 2012 00:30
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Vuoksi's wingtips droop slightly. "The list of mortals and spirits that could have stopped this is larger than you know, Isit. But- not all that has happened has been bad. I can be much more... effective, for my own part, at abating pain in those dying. Small consolation, but there are a few others who are using their recovered power in the waking world to do good works. And of course... this is the natural state of affairs, not the way it was." Vuoksi's eyes shift to the side. "Admittedly, it's not- going well, at all, and I wasn't one of the ones who tried to bring things back to this state of affairs, but... now that it is done, we have to make the best of it, don't we?" She sighs. "Doesn't appear I'll be getting much calm tonight, though. Oh dear- your... friends? The ones you were sleeping with? The pack of scavenger spirits found them. Do you know how to reach them?" She unfurls her wings, looking around with a grimace. "Unpleasant." --- The stillness hangs for a few seconds, as the apparitions eye Dolan- and then Alec, when he shouts his loud challenge and attempts to force his mind to recognize the reality he knows is actually there. The northman can't penetrate the illusion- if it is an illusion- and only gets a mild headache for his efforts. The apparitions circle warily, the chill of the air biting into Lo'el and Alec equally, and for a brief moment it seems as though there'll be a protracted standoff. That's when it all goes wrong. The dragon begins... to Dolan's shock, the dragon begins precisely mimicing the spell he'd cast. Stone missiles begin to form between translucent paws, the feeling of power radiating off of it like a campfire. And then the warmth flares around Dolan, and the voice screams, "MOVE!" Acting on raw instinct, Dolan jerks backwards; and through the space where he'd occupied, a ghostly centaur dives with outstretched arms. One flailing, weaponless hand grabs Dolan's shoulder, though. The dwarf can feel a Presence in his head as the apparition does, but only for an instant. A coppery taste floods his brain, and with a sharp popping sound Dolan's shoulder flashes and throws the ghostly centaur to the ground. Just like that, the foreign presence- the one he could actually feel, anyway, unlike Voice when she wasn't doing anything- is gone from his head. Alec is not so lucky. There's no scent, no rustle of moving grass to alert his honed senses as there would be in the real world. There's calmness, then a sudden sharp noise over near Dolan, and then something hits his side with a painful impact. The northman goes down hard, with a weight shoving him hard into the ground and wrapping what feel like smooth plastic arms around his shoulders. His face is shoved into something soft and greasy-feeling, blocking his senses and plunging him into darkness; before he can recover from the stun, there's an oily sense of... someone else inside his head, shoving itself into the nooks and crannies of his mind, inspecting his thoughts and scanning his memories. Submit. A baritone whisper forms all around Alec's head. This need not hurt. As it speaks, the northman can feel... some kind of weakness, a physical exhaustion creep into his mind. We need you. Join us. The feeling insinuates itself into Alec's thoughts- and the northman feels almost... hungry. Lo'el can see best, with the fewest distractions, as the others engage in their own battles. The world changes, as though a child had grown tired of its drawing and begun smearing wet clay around to change it. The cornfield disappears, replaced in a single dizzying second by a cool mountain valley; mostly rocks with some moss as the ground, with snow collecting in the shadows of larger boulders. It's a pretty scene, with a shallow clear stream nearby... but the largest change is that the scenery now feels real. There's a crisp smell in the air, the sun's bright, objects behave as they should... and though the dragon and centaur are still ghostly creatures, Alec's pinned under the bulk of a large, and very solid looking gray wolf. It's got him shoved into the ground, paws pinning arms to his sides and his head crushed between its chest and the ground- and Alec, though he can see little, feels the greasy feeling smothering him quickly become a warm, cloying blanket of coarse fur around his face and chest. Alec attempts to disbelieve. Nothing happens. Specter #1 (Dragon) begins casting Stone Missile. Specter #2 attacks Dolan. It hits. Then something weird happens. Specter #3 attacks Alec. It hits, and attempts to grapple, and on an opposed contest of <REDACTED>, well... [20:53] <Mukaikubo> 2#3d6 [20:53] <Mukbot> Mukaikubo, 2#3d6: 17 [3d6=5,6,6], 4 [3d6=1,1,2] [20:53] <Mukaikubo> holy shitfire Alec is grappled by the head and neck. Alec is prone. 1 FP drains from Alec into Specter #3. The scenery shifts and becomes more real-seeming.
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Apr 14, 2012 05:25
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At last, a suspicion that had been forming in Lette's head crystallized into cold certainty. The birdsong she was hearing was familiar- because it came from a kind of bird that just lived in trees, like ones not too far from her own farm. And they sung to greet the dawn. Here, without a tree for a dozen miles in any direction, in the middle of the night... now that the thing that's alerted her has registered, she can just make out that it's at least a few talented impersonators giving a bird call. They call again, one slightly closer to Lette than the road; it's too dark to make anything out.
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Apr 14, 2012 20:25
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"It's risky!" Vuoksi tries to warn as Isit forges ahead. "Between dreams are places you don't want to go, places where I can't! Focus on where you're going and you've got a sho-" Isit's concentration shuts out the dream as it starts to dissolve around her; she can see Vuoksi take flight hastily, disappearing into thin air, and leaps in a direction that feels like sideways to every single direction she previously knew of. There's a feeling of falling, then of intense speed through clinging shadows on all sides- it lasts an eternity and maybe a few seconds at the same time. When the elf opens her eyes again, she's on a pleasant, pretty little gravel path somewhere up in the mountains, and she has indeed found her allies. And others... Lette springs into action, calling out a warning and moving to rouse the others to face an imminent ambush. By quirk of fate, Isit is nearest the young woman, and a spear butt jabs into the experienced elf's ribs. Isit can see... a dragon, a centaur on its side, and Alec pinned underneath a giant wolf. Lo'el is... praying? In the middle of the road, and Dolan is apparently covered in pink fog. Before Isit can do more than open her mouth to question the baffling scene, she feels a sharp pain in her side and with an almost audible disorientation her eyes slam open to see the brilliant night sky back in the waking world. Dolan, having missed Isit's brief entry into their shared dream, charges at the wolf holding his companion down. A quick punch to where the ribs should be on a wolf feels bone, and the dwarf knows he's connected with a solid hit- and an instant after connecting, a jolt of energy half-numbs his arm for a moment, as with another pop the wolf seems to spark with pink energy... but it stays atop Alec, not yet daunted enough to give up its prey. Seeing this- seeing Isit appear, and leave just as quickly- the faun realizes how dire their situation is. That they are in trouble- that they need protection. There were many stories of Dinym's kindness to those in need of aid, of shelter from the hostility of others. There were stories about how to call on her, there were stories about when, and they said the full moon was best. There were no stories of illusory dragons trying to throw rocks at you in dreams- well, not until Lo'el returned- but calling for help, a faun could do. He finishes his quick supplication, and opens his eyes to see the carnage. A warm, motherly voice echoes inside his skull. Granted. The hairs on the back of Lo'el's neck prick up, as a gust of warm breath washes around his head. A loud, basso rumbling growl rolls over the entire dream battlefield- and behind Lo'el stands a mature black bear. It paws at the ground, sniffing the air and snorting angrily- before its gaze finds the centaur. And then the bear roars right by Lo'els head. The dwarf was next in line. Moving swiftly, Lette lightly whacked the man across the face and moved on. They may only have seconds. As Dolan draws his arm back for another blow, the slap staggers Dolan, more from surprise than from pain. No- NO! His resident voice howls in despair, and the dwarf can feel it try to HOLD him in the dream- but it is too weak, and the dwarf's mind falls back into the waking world with a light red welt on his forehead, mild panic in the camp building as Lette works. The oily, insidious presence continues to permeate Alec's mind, violating his thoughts and stealing his memories to look through itself. The northman can feel it; wherever it goes, it drains some of the energy, some of the will to fight from him drained into it. With every passing instant, the wolf on top of him grows heavier, warmer, its smell more foul- at the same time, he can start to feel himself starting to get... less real, in an impossible to define but definite way. The stones under his back- hadn't they been smooth fake dirt a breath ago? They feel softer now, as though he's starting to sink into them... There's still a core of hate down there, though. The northman isn't done yet. Gathering his strength, he grabs the growling wolf by the sides, and heaves; despite feeling a worrying weakness in his limbs, despite the growing temptation to just give in, he's got enough strength left to shove the wolf most of the way off of him. The beast twists to one side, revealing a bright, inordinately cheery blue sky for just an instant. Then it shuffles back sideways, sprawling out and trapping the 'barbarian's' head underneath him once more. NO! No escape- just give in! You're mine! I CAUGHT you! It snarls, and... the voice is beginning to sound almost like a feral version of Alec's own voice. Alec, at least, has stopped shivering. Must have found something to keep him warm. Still, they'd need his strength sooner rather than later. The speartip lashes out, thudding into his shoulder in a rough prod. The dragon, still hovering overhead, turns its blank-eyed gaze to the new ursine arrival. The stones in its hands fly out, slamming into the new protector-goddess's avatar with loud, wet thuds. At the same time, the ghostly centaur gets up, also refocused on the bear- for its own part the bear quickly circles around, placing itself between Lo'el and the two spirits, and roars another defiant challenge at them. The sound of the roar's enough to penetrate through even the layers of hide and flesh covering Alec's ears. That meddling bitch! the wolf snarls in his head. I'll have to drag you somewhere safer- no, can't- well- I could- drat! A little extra weight pushes down on the northman's nose, cutting off the flow of fresh air into his lungs again. Just have to finish this quicker- With that, the presence speeds up, throwing itself deeper into Alec's mind. It feels as though there's a suction on his mind, pulling into the nightmare pinning his head to the ground... but something grows different. He can... smell.. and see... but not with his own eyes. He's slowly becoming more aware of the mind attacking him, and the words he spat into its hide were completely true. It had been nothing. It was nothing. Its first chance to be something was squirming under it, and it so desperately wanted to have some kind of existence, it was willing to destroy another- Alec's- to get it. The longing, panicked neediness suffusing his enemy's mind gives Alec pause for just an instant at how strong the desire is for Alec to give it what it needs... but it's not enough to persuade the northman to lower his mental defenses. He holds onto his own mind against the frantic onslaught- some pieces of energy leaching away, strengthening the wolf, but the core still holding strong. Finally, Lo'el. Another jab into the faun's hip to wake him- Alec was being slow at rising. Couldn't afford that. Might need to try again- if whoever these fake birds were meant ill, they might not have a minute to let him wake up gracefully. But... the faun was staying stubbornly asleep too... Lo'el feels something invisible jab his hip, hard. His mind tries to recoil backwards, tunnel its way back up to consciousness. Isit had appeared, and left. Dolan had vanished, suddenly. But Alec was still there, still struggling for his life, and the bear was here and protecting him. If Lo'el left, would the bear follow who had summoned it, and abandon Alec to the tender mercies of whatever these demons were? It couldn't be risked- Lo'el fought off the urge to wake. He was needed where he was. Isit arrives... and promptly awakens. Dolan connects, and deals 3 damage to the wolf. The wolf passes stun. Lo'el has played Earthbound, and Prays. A dire bear appears. Dolan awakens. Alec fails his skill roll to pull his mind out of the spirit's grip; his shoving's a bit more successful, and he manages to free everything but his head by shoving the wolf to one side; it's still laying on his face, though. 1 FP burnt to increase strength for the grapple roll. Alec does not wake up. Specter #1 (Dragon) casts Stone Missile at the bear. It hits, and the dodge fails. Bear gets wounded. Specter #2 (Centaur) gets up. Specter #3 (Wolf) fails the quick contest of wills, cutting its damage from the ongoing drain in half. Alec loses 3 FP. Lo'el does not wake up.
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Apr 15, 2012 03:45
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Alec's defiance forms an inner, hot core of rage- castle walls to keep out the monster trying to steal everything that he was to make it its own. Muscles scream in fatigue, begging the northman to just let them rest for a while, but that's the one thing Alec can't let them do. Instead, shoving his hands under the wolf's throat, he heaves one more time... and the wolf can't stay on, rolling off to one side. Alec's body aches with the effort, barely having enough strength to instinctively get up to his knees so he can't just be pounced on again; the wolf's already on all fours staring at Alec with an open fanged mouth, and disturbingly familiar eyes as it growls. I can feel you weakening. You won't be able to push me off again- At that precise moment, a large black bear lopes up behind the wolf, dwarfing even the unnaturally large monster's size. It rears back, and contemptuously backhands the wolf in the side of the head with one massive paw. The wolf goes flying several yards, rolling in a rough tumble and yelping in surprise. Without a dream-illusion's bulk obscuring and draining his senses, now Alec can see that their surroundings have changed; it's a mountain pass he's used a dozen times to pass between towns, a pleasant, secluded stone path with a lovely little clear creek for water and rarely any disturbances. It's exactly as he remembered it, and Alec can remember the wolf rooting around in those memories early... The wolf snarls again, rising to all fours with a slight limp- seeing the tide of battle, it turns and hobbles off in the direction of Cherusciten. The great black bear, meanwhile, sniffs at Alec with a skeptical light in its beady black eyes; then, snorting, it rounds over, ignoring him now that his threat is gone. Lo'el, skipping along behind the goddess's gift, easily avoids another clumsy dive from the centaur spirit, which the bear rewards with a roar of anger that the little monsters aren't so quick to flee as one that had already gotten a portion of what it wanted; in midair, the dragon-spirit begins casting another spell, stones forming between its talons. At that instant, Alec feels a sudden rush of panic as his body tries to tell him he's drowning, and his mind pulls itself from the dream with this fresh encouragement to see the stars once more. Dolan's outburst split the night air like a cannonshot. All goes silent, except for a single lone fake birdcall from near the trail end. The scene is ominously still; no enemies present themselves for the waiting heroes to attack. Alec succeeds in pushing the wolf off of him entirely. Lo'el all out dodges. Bear backhands the Wolf for major damage. Wolf does not pass out. Specter #1 (Dragon) begins casting Stone Missile again. Specter #2 (Centaur) all out attacks Lo'el, who dodges. Specter #3 (Wolf) flees. Alec wakes up. Alec is down 5 FP. Only 1 of them will recover naturally, for now. Mukaikubo fucked around with this message at 17:38 on Apr 15, 2012 |
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Apr 15, 2012 17:29
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The bear snorts again, turning to glare at the other two specters that still beset the last remaining mortal trespasser. More rocks crash into its back, splintering and spraying shrapnel but not slowing the creature down. It charges for the centaur, and it doesn't slow down, doesn't stop, doesn't raise an arm. It just plows into the spirit like a boulder, slamming it into a real boulder by the side of the road with a ground-shaking crash. The centaur falls, and doesn't get up- but as the bear turns to the last of the spirits, Lo'el feels himself be hit viciously hard and instantly wakes back up with the entire side of his face burning in pain. Lo'el takes 4 HP damage. Ouch.
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Apr 15, 2012 19:55
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There's a silence from across the way, before a lone rough female voice calls out, "Don't think so, lass! Neither of us'll be entirely happy meeting in the dark without seeing each other, so I reckon we'd better be waiting till sunrise so we can see each other better!" "...did one of you just say 'goddess'?" she says, after a slight pause and pronouncing the last word as if it were an obscenity. "Never mind. Morning. Don't try to find us. You won't." The voice seems to be coming from different places near the road with each sentence.
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Apr 15, 2012 20:57
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Silence greets the faun's question, and further entreaties.
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Apr 16, 2012 00:42
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As the others make their way- with varying levels of trepidation- back to their packs, for most sleep proves initially elusive. After all, the adrenaline bubbling through their blood's got its own set of demands, ones that don't include peaceful rest. Still, after a long day of hiking and in the still darkness there's enough pulling each back down to slumber. The harrowing fight they'd just had in their dreams gives the four a bit of forewarning, so that when they simply wind up somewhere else fully lucid and dreaming it's not a particularly strange surprise. That they're all four sitting on a cloud? That's the surprise. More specifically, they appear to be floating on a comfortable, fluffy cloud that for all the world feels like a giant pile of fine blankets held in midair by nothing more than a thought. They're not entirely alone in the sky; a large black winged form goes by, but after a panicked first impression it's a very large crow and not the dragon that had stalked them earlier. Aside from that, the skies are clear, the sun's beating down from a bare (at least, from the top of cloud) sky and plenty warm, and... there's no actual threats apparent, for what might be the first time all day. And- even better luck- they're each decently dressed with their equipment, this time, and Dolan doesn't seem to have an odd pink fog around him. --- Back in the waking world, Lette and Martin despite their vigilance can't see anyone sneaking around outside, and the fake birdcalls stop once the intruders had been called out- were it not for knowing someone else was out there, for the life of either they'd swear they were the only people for miles around. A quick and worried check shows all four sleeping peacefully, though Lo'el's blow is forming a nasty and ugly bruise over much of his face. Mukaikubo fucked around with this message at 14:36 on Apr 17, 2012 |
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Apr 17, 2012 14:30
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It feels strange- stressful, somehow, like exercising a weak flabby muscle- but as Lo'el focuses his mind sure enough a small stone appears in his hand.
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Apr 17, 2012 15:28
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The stone is cast over the edge without a second thought once its utility is done; perhaps it would hit some poor soul on the head at a great velocity. Or perhaps this dream didn't extend all the way to the ground (begging the question of what would happen if anyone jumped off) or that they simply had nobody else in this... place, that could be injured by such an errant projectile. Alec's sword goes right through the cloud as though it weren't even there, despite it having no apparent problems holding up the northman's feet. Just one more impossible piece of magic or illusion or something else unwholesome in this strange place. His call, though, appears to draw the large crow's attention. It banks, showing the four on the cloud its broad wingspan (easily twice as long as a man was tall, and every feather midnight black) and flapping casually to beat its way back to the cloud. With a ruffle of its wings, it lands delicately on a far corner of the little cloud, solid to it as well. The crow cocks its head to one side, eying Isit and Alec and the rest with decidedly un-birdlike intelligence behind its eyes; it opens its giant beak, and speaks with a perfectly human voice of a young woman. "I thank you for the greeting, Alec of Cherusciten, even if it isn't precisely your home we meet in. I am Vuoksi, of whom you may or may not have heard- and if you haven't, your companions have. Regardless, this is a safe place in a world that, for tonight, is quite unsafe- nor is it entirely my own doing as well. More than that, I prefer not to say. I would stay and chat with the five of you more-" she pauses, eying Dolan, and adds, "-but I've already tarried enough tonight and my job doesn't wait for my whims." The crow spreads her wings. --- Back in the waking world, there's another brief exchange of birdsong. Distant- or just muffled quietly enough to make it sound distant compared to before. No way to tell. The sleepers stay asleep, and the stars wheel on unconcerned... and as Martin and Lette keep watch, they too can feel the exhaustion beginning to set in behind heavy eyelids. They'll last, if just on willpower, but the unknown fears of whatever the others had found was going to have a hard time beating out the certainty of a long day march, a stressful few hours, and the body's demand for rest.
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Apr 18, 2012 03:26
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The giant crow cocks her head in the other direction, peering at Alec. Opening her beak, she reaches out and grabs the ration (well, most of the ration, at least, with beaks not being perfectly dextrous) and quickly gulps it down. The goddess gives a little soft caw, before shaking her head and ducking it to one side; plucking out one feather, she deftly drops it into Alec's hand. "When the time comes, you'll know what to use it for." Vuoksi says. "Thank you, and farewell-" Rather than anything so pedestrian as flying away, the bird seems to flatten out, then shrink to a thin black line, then a point- and then she's gone.
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Apr 18, 2012 05:20
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This time, the hours unroll without much else to distract or threaten the lives of anyone, either ensconced in a hidden dream or keeping watch so that the former don't get their throats cut at half towards dawn. Those that decide to while away the hours of safety by trying to sleep within a dream find simple oblivion- pure, dreamless unconsciousness. It seems restful enough, at least, given that by the time Alec and Lo'el are roused they feel at least as rested if not moreso than they should be- they go straight from true unconsciousness to being awake in the fields when the time comes and Martin and Lette rouse them, without passing back through the cloud. The waking world is as quiet and peaceful as anyone could ask; even the fainter birdsong died off over the hours. Alec finds the black feather resting on his neck, half-tucked under his clothing. It, at least, seemed to have no trouble following him as he woke.
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Apr 19, 2012 03:52
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Lette knows exactly where she is. A hundred yards from the chest, and it might as well be a mile. There wasn't any safety this time, and Gil was alone among the nightmares. She'd hidden. Burrowed, really, under a pile of firewood with just enough slits for her to see everything that happened. Sure, the people were... foggy. Undefined. But she'd seen this before, knew how the nightmare went. It never stopped hurting, never stopped taunting her with what if- what if she'd been a little slower, what if she'd taken a little more time to figure out what needed doing before she started to do it. What if she hadn't been there. What if Gil had been alone, and thought they'd all abandoned him. Bad enough that what happened, happened, without also the poor boy having nobody to comfort him. To keep his mouth shut, whatever it took, even if it all went... wrong, later. She could hear him crying, even though nobody else did. He was trying to stifle it. He couldn't. Every half-sob, every broken whimper of fright at what was going onto his parents, she heard as though Gil was right there beside her. But she couldn't help. Even if she tried, the wood was heavier than it had been going in, and it was all 'round her. It squeezed her, crushed her, took her breath away- she couldn't even move, all she could do was lay there with her eyes pinned helplessly to the sobbing chest as the things that had been her parents got ever closer to the chest. They were... they looked happy. Carefree. They were playing with the house, wrecking it, smashing things just to see what kind of pretty noise they'd make. It was all wonderful fun, and soon they would get to Gil and... well, there, even Lette's nightmares usually feared to tread. This was... more real than the others. The wood bit into her skin, her eyes wouldn't keep clear of the burning wetness that kept trying to fog them up each time Gil failed to smother a quick cry for what had been his mother. She was... helpless. --- Martin, too, knows exactly where he is. He's home. Every street, every dirt path of Wallin was one he'd seen at day and run by night. There were no secrets. The buildings, the castle on the hill, all matched the image he held in his mind's eye every day... but it wasn't right. The steward's frog-faced glare lanced down from hastily thaumaturgical copies of his portrait, hung on every wall. They all seemed to stare at Martin. The Baron's Head pub, on the corner- its old name had been hastily crossed out, and the family coat of arms taken down. That pub had had the right to use it for centuries, part of a long standing tradition, and it was gone. The crowds moved, brushing by Martin as though he were a barely-tangible wraith that merited no notice past the bare essential of not trying to walk through him. Everyone looked down, not at each other. There was no joy in Wallin, and everything looked... shabby. Run-down. Poor- either nobody had money for any but the most tattered of rags, or nobody dared show they had it for fear of it being taken away. The market sold food. Not much. Not good. Which was fair, because few seemed to be able to buy at prices that would have beggared freemen a year prior. Martin finds himself drawn to the market, the funereal march of thin and gaunt people through what had been a bustling center of commerce flush with food. There's a whispering in the air- people talking in hushed voices, trying to avoid being overheard. It was Martin's home. And it was wrong. Surely things couldn't have... gotten that bad... this soon? --- Outside, Lette and Martin appear to go to sleep without much issue, and the cool night air rustles grain as faintly as could be. The faint sound of birdsong barely sounded in the still, night air- overhead, at least one thing is comforting to both the men from far-off places. The same stars look down on this foreign field as looked down on Lo'el's forest, or Cherusciten itself; the same patterns, the same stories about who and why the stars appeared the way they would. Night watch was always boredom, until it was utter terror. After the day they'd had, perhaps Alec and Lo'el deserved to be bored. --- Lo'el and Alec faded from their places on the cloud. Nobody replaced them. --- PRESENTS!!! Sure it has only been 2 IC days and sure I am giving presents like a drunken uncle, but Everybody gets a 10 CP bonus partly because I dearly love long philosophical conversations! Oh yeah and Lette failed her nightmare roll.
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Apr 19, 2012 05:32
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The tall grass rustles, and just for an instant the hairs on Alec's arms stand up and the primitive little thoughts at the back of his head have the intense feeling that he's being Watched, or at least paid close attention to. The feeling passes as quickly as it came, leaving the two again apparently alone on the nighttime plain. Both Lette and Martin have grimaces on their face as they sleep, though both don't appear to be any great discomfort. Lo'el's bird calls seem to not draw any new replies. --- Floating on, the cloud is surprisingly peaceful, though the failure of others to appear is somewhat worrying given that it's been a half hour or so since Alec and Lo'el 'left'. The view's great, at least. They're over a big city- could even easily be Noah, or at least some dreamtime representation of that town that's meant to anchor them in a familiar spot. With near-privacy, Dolan gets the signature flush of heat behind his eyes- but cautiously and very slowly. No pink mist emerges, but he can feel the second presence in his mind as it peeps out to see what's going on in the aftermath of frightening combat. --- Lette strains. She knows what needs to be done- she needs to get out of the woodpile holding her, so that she can... do something. What, exactly, is not quite clear, but remaining quiet and safe in her suffocating hidey-hole is not an acceptable option. The young woman strains to push wood away despite her awkward position. There's no leverage, no way she can move her arms and legs in the tiny space to get much of a push on the timbers. It feels like she's being buried, crushed into submission while watching her old life being torn apart. But that's not acceptable either. Lette focuses, desperate to escape what increasingly feels like a coffin, and her mind and "body"- if that has meaning in this dream world- work together. Something clicks in Lette's mind and she can feel a surge of strength she hasn't felt before. The wood splinters, shattering as Lette punches through it and drags herself back into the open air. It could just be splinters, but the logs she'd been laying on feel as though they're grasping futilely at her legs, beseeching her to stay down entombed with them. She escapes, though with a slightly drained feeling and with far more fanfare than she would have hoped. They're all looking at her, now, ignoring the muffled sobs of Gil. One of them- neither her mother or father, happily- is at the chest, caressing it with unnaturally long, tapering fingers that bend in more places than a finger ought, with dark gray skin stretching like leather. It leers at her with a twisted mouth. They all do- Lette has their undivided attention, though with one of them right near the chest that's not much help to Gil. --- "You left." A woman behind him says, briskly. An elegantly dressed but somewhat plain woman with a long silver ponytail stands a few feet away, unbuffeted by the crowd. "You knew what sort of man the steward was, and you more or less ceded this county to him. Can you be surprised that he turned out to be a poor ruler when he resorted to treachery to remove you from his path?" The woman smiles slightly, gray eyes twinkling and pointed ears rustling under a white hooded cloak. "But never mind that. You wished to help people, I understand. A noble goal. But there are sacrifices involved in that." When she smiles, it doesn't reach her eyes. Those stay cold and remote, and her teeth seem- despite being human teeth- to have the impression of fangs when they show. "Sister did find an interesting group, didn't she? So many fascinating people. I'll have to thank her." She smiles again. "Especially you. I typically prefer wolves to those referred to as foxes, but it's close enough. Tell me-" Her ears prick, and she looks off to the side with a harassed-looking grimace. "-well, you do have some interesting friends, don't you? Perhaps it would be better for us to talk about how I can help you help your people in a more comfortable setting. My home, then- but I fear I'll have to suppress your memories, there's too much of a sensitive nature I can't trust you with quite so early there." Before Martin can interject, the dream-woman snaps her fingers- and Martin's memories of the dream cut off abruptly.
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Apr 20, 2012 13:59
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There's a long, quiet silence, and then the Voice says- with a distinct sensation of mumbling- I'm no god. Her speech has cleared up; much less... odd, now, than it had been when she first found Dolan. She almost sounds like a normal person talking inside the dwarf's head, just with a slight echoing effect as though she were multiple voices speaking at once. I'm not like them. The last is said with much more vehemence. --- "Hello, Lette." The voice, from one of a rapidly growing crowd around her- one that hadn't been there a few seconds ago- is exactly the way she remembered her mother speaking. That particular creature looks like a hideous, distorted version, but the eyes and voice are perfectly and horribly familiar. "Such a good girl, coming back home and looking out for your brother." Lette scoops up the debris, and hurls it at the nightmare- she bats it away, mouth stuck in a permanent leering grin. "Throwing things at your own flesh and blood? But there's so much to tell you. So much to show you about who we really are..." Gil breaks from the chest, running for the treeline. One of the nightmares begins to chase him, but slowly, lazily; there's no way Gil won't be able to get to the tree line and escape. It's toying with him, continually looking back over its shoulder at the nightmares and Lette. He's not important. He can be found later. Because now, they have Lette. Gray bodies ring her, a few yards distant; the destruction is done, focus on her. "Such a good girl indeed." Her mother laughs. "Of course you'll be staying with us, won't you? Let him go, keep you? He's not old enough yet for us, not for this. But you are..." --- She's laying with her head on her mother's lap. Lette's comfortable. Her head's got a soft pillow, and her mother's singing an old, familiar lullaby in a language she doesn't know. She feels wrong- the... shape of the world around her's not right, she can tell without seeing. Power, what some part of her hindbrain recognizes as magic, is flowing all around her, just waiting for her to use it. It belongs to her. It all belongs to her. Lette opens her eyes, and her mother smiles down at her with gray, smooth skin, unnaturally large eyes, and a mouth twisted into a permanent grin. She is a nightmare. Lette looks down. Her skin is gray- --- Lette's back in the chest. Alone. The chest lid opens. Gil's gone. The cottage is smashed. Her mother's sitting on a broken stool, staring at her with a grin. "Why'd you let Gil go? How could you let him get away? Gave him to us?" "No, you did the right thing." Hannah nods, licking her lips with a black tongue. "He couldn't rescue you. You could rescue him. Is that what you told yourself when it got too hard to hold back his cries? It's alright. But you can't save him. When you try, you'll join him again. We'll all be a happy family." She looks up at the stars. "It's not that you were a coward, of course. Not that you abandoned your little brother in his time of need. No, you had perfectly good reasons. Very sound. Reasonable. You can tell yourself that, can't you, but can you hear the voice inside your head laughing?" --- Lette's back inside the woodpile. They're tearing her home apart, and Gil is crying.
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Apr 21, 2012 03:17
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Another long silence, and then a tentative, No name. I... don't use... names... she pauses again, another flare of warmth coming to Dolan's skin. We are- spirits. We live here. We fight here. At least most of us. You fight with your... will? I think you say. She lapses into silence again, audibly nervous. A smaller cloud floats by. A mule is on it, and is grazing on the cloudstuff with every impression of happiness. --- Lette's particular hope of sanctuary is dashed rather quickly, as the apparitions around her begin efficiently hauling wood from the pile as she screams at them- forbearing comment as Gil continues to sob, alone. Lette can feel those memories, that realization that she's just dreaming, try to slip away from her conscious mind like a slimy fish, wriggling to escape. "It's a disappointing girl," Lette's mother croons, "that's so hateful to her own parents." The last log is hurled away from Lette, forms pressing in all around to stop her from escaping once more. "You've already started to see," Hannah murmurs. "The magic's all around you, power's all around you. All you have to do is reach out at make it dance to your song, Lette." One hand reaches down, and begins gently stroking the back of her head just as her real mother always used to do. "Gil hasn't started yet, but you have. I wish you'd come with us instead of him... but we have plenty of time for all that, dear-" Lette's walking among the ruins of the cottage again. The others are gone. There's only one other in the cottage- and it's Lette. A corrupted, twisted, gray-skinned Lette. Her hair hangs down her shoulders, her eyes are the same, but the same elegant, graceful, hideous form has changed all else. Smiling widely, Lette looks at herself, reaching up to stroke her chin in a familiar gesture- and says, "If you don't want to join the rest of your family, why do you keep coming back here? We both know you're... curious. And all that magic feels so right when you call it through that lyre of yours. And it does have to be yours, doesn't it, 'sister'?" She licks her lips, black tongue another reminder that it was some twisted reflection of Lette. "I know why. You've just started to learn. But if you hate the idea of becoming me so much, why don't you... fight back?"
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Apr 21, 2012 19:24
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Lette's fist lashes out- but her doppelganger isn't where she thought it was, having inexplicably shifted a foot to one side while Lette wound up for the punch. The gray-skinned thing lashes out with a sharp kick to Lette's shins, but she manages to awkwardly hop away with her arms pinwheeling for balance. "That all you can do?" The grayskin sneers. "Pick up your lyre and show me who you want to be, Lette!" Sure enough, the lyre is laying, unnoticed, at Lette's feet. "Or are you just angry that you know Mom and Dad love me more than they'll ever love you?" The other girl spits.
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Apr 21, 2012 21:09
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With anger in her heart, Lette begins to play the achingly familiar melody- but here, now, she can feel the magic woven in the melody as well. There's power there she'd never dreamed of- "Yes," the other girl hisses. "You can feel it, can't you?" She yawns. "It's magic... it's all magic. It's what we were born to... do..." she yawns again, before shaking her head with a sparkle in her eye. "Good! But you won't put me to sleep as easily as Mom always put you to sleep. And if you're leaving Mom and Dad, giving up on them- I'll be happy to be their daughter instead of you." She grins, and picks up her own lyre, strumming it experimentally and giving Lette a sidelong leer.
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Apr 21, 2012 22:41
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"THAT!" the gray Lette crows, hearing the music as it picks up. "Touch the magic- touch your rage!" She insists, staying still and playing along with Lette, giving her accompaniment. The tune builds, Lette plucking strings with her fingers moving without conscious thought. She can feel the music swimming around her in angry, greasy-feeling streams, and somehow without using her hands she understands how to corral them- to begin weaving them with her mind in the shape she wants them to take, and then bringing it down into her lungs. The song goes on, and heat builds in her chest. Her gray doppelganger is staring upwards while still playing, lost in rapture- and then, driven by anger, with all the hate in her heart for this mockery of herself, Lette exhales. --- As though responding to Lo'el and Alec's desire for a campfire, there's a sudden burst of light and heat as Lette exhales a dragon-like stream of fire. Fortunately, her head's lolled to one side and not pointed at anyone- still, it sets quite a few stalks of corn to burning. Lette herself seems unchanged, aside from having just torched a few square feet with a breath. --- The doppelganger melts away, burning rapidly without a scream of pain as the flames touch her. Lette's still at the cabin. It's still ruined. But she is alone, and she can still feel the magic's pattern all around her. The world looks different inside her dream. She's stronger- everything seems more vivid through her new eyes. Everything alive, the plants, a bird, almost glows with energy; she can see the few things left unbroken in her home, and they too seem to shine dully with the residual of all the affection she and her family had put into them. Overhead, stormclouds begin to gather- but Lette is still alone.
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Apr 21, 2012 23:59
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Lo'el throws the dirt onto the fire, stomping out stubborn flareups where he can; while still in the zone of slightly blackened dirt, out of the side of his eyes he can see a few embers and a plume of black smoke trail from Lette's peacefully sleeping face. There wasn't much actively burning, at least, even if there's still some menacing looking smoldering. --- Lette knows the cabin, even mostly smashed, as well as anyone else could. Now she can see the pattern to the destruction. It wasn't just the pretty things they smashed, but all the things that were- important to the family. Little was spared, and what had been connected only tenuously to the family's past; despite that it faintly glowed to Lette's eyes. Rain began to fall, and the cool water felt wonderful on Lette's head. It also filled the air with a misty blue haze, as the elements passing through each other interacted with slight bleedoff of magic. Part of Lette wonders, given this, how pretty a thunderstorm would be. The cabin seems deserted; there's nobody she can see inside, outside, or as far as the treeline.
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Apr 22, 2012 00:33
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Lette does not respond to Lo'el's shaking, nor does she feel anything inside the dream.
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Apr 22, 2012 00:34
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In his haste, Alec's spell gets slightly tangled up- no water appears over Lette's head, who by all appearances is quite peacefully sleeping normally if you don't pay attention to the char marks in front of her face or the slight trace of soot at the corner of her mouth. Lo'el keeps on shaking the girl, until he slowly realizes that he's... no, he's not getting shorter. Lette is starting to levitate off the ground. --- Only a few notes- and those she was able to whistle. The magic rushed to do her bidding, to serve Lette as its master. Her feet found air as solid as earth, with a slight blue glow of magic underfoot holding her up. She took the impromptu stairs quickly, rising and rising off the ground. She could see the clearing laid out under her, glowing trails marking each mouse, each insect under her feet- of course, from above, even a human could look like an insect. Further afield, the forests glowed with energy as did the clouds overhead in a multicolored symphony of sensations. Somehow, none of it obscured the physical. Instead, she simply sees the magic strung out in lines and clouds as a translucent overlay over everything. A laugh bubbles up from her throat without conscious thought. --- Fenton looks over at Isit and brays noncommittally before going back to his grazing.
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Apr 22, 2012 00:50
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| # ¿ May 13, 2024 15:30 |
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Lo'el's weight slows down Lette's ascent markedly, but soon enough he's standing on the tips of his hooves and straining to not be pulled aloft along with Lette.* Alec finds himself unable to get to Lette's head, so he settles for yelling his head off from the ground. None of the other sleepers seem to stir, and- if anyone else is listening- what they think of the sudden commotion goes unknown. Lette begins rotating slowly, swirling Lo'el beneath her as he gamely tried to keep the young woman from going completely out of reach entirely. --- Midway through her spin, with triumph and giddy pleasure surging through her brain, Lette hears her own voice whisper in her ear. "Now can you see? This is what you were born for. What I was born for. You're learning who you are..." Lette's hands, outside her own control, shape some of the magic around her into forming a still puddle between her hands, and looks at herself. Perhaps unsurprisingly, a gray, smooth, inhuman face smiles back. The mirror's dismissed, and Lette says, "So much better to be together, isn't it? We're one now. I knew you'd be easier to persuade you to see it my way once you... saw it my way." She begins striding purposefully back to the ground, Lette suddenly a helpless prisoner inside her own deformed body. "Mom and Dad are going to be so happy to see me. Maybe not Gil so much, but he'll come around. Just like you-" --- Lette's eyes snap open. It's nighttime, and someone's holding onto her ankles; this may be related to the fact that she's a good two yards off the ground and spinning gently. Not as high as she was in the dream, but enough- and the faint smell and taste of ash and soot shows in her mouth as well. The magic vision is gone, here, though there is still a faint sense of something being... different, about the world. A quick and furtive look shows both that she's in control of her own body, and that her skin is the proper shade instead of a chalky gray. Oh, and Alec is screaming at her. --- Lette has gained 1 level of Magery with the Musical limitation (+5 CP). She has also gained 5 points in disadvantages, which are not immediately apparent.
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Apr 22, 2012 01:18
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