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 Match’s math class begins, but after a while, he finds it difficult to concentrate on the lesson. Stray yet unformed thoughts swim through his mind, and he cannot help but think that there is something he has forgotten, something important. Nevertheless, he tries to solve the mathematical equations on the blackboard to be a good student, but just when he thinks he has the solution, the nagging feeling at the back of his mind distracts him. Match sees the other students meticulously writing in their notebooks while he is floundering. He feels ashamed and hangs his head. Class finishes and students file out, but Match continues to sit at his table, trying to understand what is disrupting his thoughts so. I do not know what my mind is searching for. I think it is maybe something I have forgotten. Maybe I have forgotten something important I need to do? I need to think. I know all of the classes I need to go to today. I have them here in my schedule. It is not that. I will meet my friends in the evening. Have I forgotten a gift for one of them? No. I have a gift for the Head Teacher, the Trio, the Craftswoman and the Warden. It is not that. Did I forget about someone that asked for my help? Did I forget a lesson I will need on a test? I am not sure why I cannot remember. I remember that… before, I did not understand many things. I needed to ask a lot of questions. I did not understand things about the world. I did not understand things about myself. But now I understand more about the world, and myself. That is why I am happy here. My mind does not want to forget what I cannot remember. Is it something important? I should not… forget something important. I remember before. I was defective. But… but I am not defective anymore. That is why this is a good place and why I am happy. But if I cannot remember something important, if I forgot something important… that is not how it should be. That is defective. I do not feel happy. I am… scared? I should… Yes. I know what I should do. My friends and my teachers helped me to understand the world, myself and how to help others. They are why I am happy in this town. I should talk with one of them and ask for help. Maybe I should talk with one of my teachers first. Perhaps it is not a difficult problem. Perhaps they can help me fix the problem quickly, and then I can meet and be happy with my friends in the evening without a problem. Match stands up straight from his seat. His math teacher, a middle-aged woman looks up, apparently surprised that he is still there, concentrated on her notes for the next class as she was. Match walks over to her desk and stands in front of it, ramrod straight, his arms at his side. “Miss Therai. I would like to talk. It will not take long.” The teacher inclines her head at him. Match does not realize it is the exact head movement he so often does. “I was not a good student during this class. I am sorry. I will try again next class.” Match hesitates to speak about what is really on his mind. A finger on one of his hands twitches. “I was distracted. I was trying to remember something. I could not forget it. I could not ignore it during class so I could concentrate, like you told me to. I think that it is maybe something important. I do not know what it is. But… I know that I should not forget important things.” Again he hangs his head. “That is not how it should be. I thought I was how I should be, so I can help and guide others, like Ring. I am not sure what to think now. I don’t want to…” Match feels that he should express what he feels outwardly by doing something, perhaps with his hands, his eyes, his face, but somehow it eludes him - even though he knows that he understands these things. “I am not sure what I should do. Can you help me, Miss Therai?” quote:nil (Match) Request: [2d6] Roll: [4, 1] Result: 5 Reason: Speak Softly nil. fucked around with this message at 11:54 on Feb 5, 2024 |
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Feb 4, 2024 19:39
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 Bellia Breakstar, The Kimera(Orc) Infinite Oregano posted:
Obnoxious. I was still using that, Bellia thinks as her Arms Launcher collapses in her hands at the sniper's shot. This model was a particular stroke of genius, between the modular barrel to accept various sizes of ammunition and the crank-powered launching mechanism allowing her to leverage her own strength to increase its range. At least rebuilding something is much easier than novel design work, but that's cold comfort now as she's held dead to rights by an excellent shot across a river with no means of response. Well, not entirely without response, Bellia thinks, her eyes shifting back towards the Ice Elemental, itself perfectly content to watch her flail against this new foe. Remembering some bits of useful materials she'd snagged on the way towards Santa's stronghold, another plan is already forming in Bellia's mind. She keeps low and dashes back towards the waiting Ice Elemental, quickly detailing her idea out loud. "Change of plans, I have a buzzing pest that needs addressing. Toss me now, right over there," she says, pointing out the hill the shots have been coming from. "Once that matter is handled, I'll be back for the rest of my companions."
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Feb 6, 2024 00:44
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 Haar, Woodspeaker As Haar continues her walk on the ancient path to the allée, she suddenly feels an iciness tingle in her bones...odd! The air is cold today, but this feels like no mere wintry breeze... it's as if she has been plunged into an ice bath. Each step suddenly becomes more difficult, and the trees around her feel increasingly like imposing obelisks, darkening the sun's rays. Haar pauses, her heart thumping with anxiety. Her mind flashes back to that terrible dream, where she weaved through wintry trees, desperately trying to escape terrible, clanking pursuants. Usually, the minutiae of dreams melt away the longer you're awake...but here, she can remember it all. The mixed faces of fear and determination on her allies, the gruelling purpose that drove them...and what she had become. A spectre, holding on long past the point of death. Her brow furrows, and she can feel her hands trembling. Why was this dream so persistent?! Why was she letting it cloud her judgement, on this of all days? She can feel the villagers' concerned faces boring into her back, and it is the venerable Guthrie, Declarant, who shakily stands by her side, bent and crooked, eyes closed in a peaceful state. "What troubles you, Haar, Woodspeaker?" He inquires, his voice quiet, yet clear; his question wide open. Haar takes a deep breath. "I wish I knew the answer, Guthrie, Declarant," She finally responds, unsteady on her feet. "My mind is plagued with visions- a dream of another life. Soil Below! You must think me mad." Guthrie, Declarant, simply smiles in understanding. It's the kind of smile to melt any trouble away. He leans against an old, wooden cane, as if mustering the strength to speak his truths. "Guidance comes to us in many a form. The spirits make their wills known in the rush of wind, the creaking of a bough - why not in our very dreams?" Haar nods, as Guthrie places his hand upon her shoulder, gently continuing. "Whatever occured, it has spirited you to make the decision you have made today. Is that not guidance enough? Do not dwell, Haar, Woodspeaker. You know that you have already found the answer you seek." Guthrie speaks sense, as he always does...and yet, the cold chill that creeps through Haar's body, the sense of dread, the way her heart rattles. She feels like a trapped rabbit, waiting with resignation as foxes ready to bear down upon her. Focus, Haar. She thinks inwardly, trying her best to still whatever has shaken her. It's just nerves. The whole town is here for you, waiting... Still, her body refuses to move. The path ahead seems that bit darker, the trees narrowing in - her destination obscured in darkness. quote:
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Feb 6, 2024 14:45
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ELF Sparky calms down after enough attention, the salamander is not under immediate threat - for the moment, but seemed a bit wound up by the intensely glowing gift in the pit. Two of the three of you examine the scene for signs of the others. The pit shows obvious signs of several sets of footprints in the snow leading up to it, enough that it is obvious that at least one set (if not more) belonged to someone who entered the pit voluntarily, with intensely glowing white light shining out of the open Gift lying at the bottom. Given the regularity of the sides of the pit it was a pit trap that caught one person (probably Haar given the prints), while at least two others seemingly just went into the pit of their own volition, but no sign of anyone climbing out successfully, although some marks on one side indicate that someone tried but failed. Although there's not enough evidence to work out the timeline on people entering the pit and the gift opening - as you can see from the edge of the pit that the gift lies squarely at the bottom its lad cast astray and the box open to the sky - wherein the blindingly bright light is bursting forth from and moreover, some kind of sucking force drawing things into it - this implies that those who entered the pit all have either by their own volition or by accident entered the Gift. The currents being wielded by such a powerful gift seem mercurial, subject to no rhyme or reasons - or if there is one it is sufficiently convoluted that it cannot be predicted at this juncture. This is unfortunate for the group of you stood along the edge of the pit to better get a glimpse of what lies down there without climbing down (by now Sparky had been sufficiently calmed down to allow Gingersnap the opportunity to join you on your survey), as the suction of the Gift suddenly picks up - at the same time as the edges of the old pit trap begin to crumble, putting you at risk of falling down and worse - likely succumbing to whatever fate befalls those who enter the Gift. Match Miss Therai pauses for a moment as she considers your inquiry, her face is largely unexpressive, but when she is about to answer her features soften to a more sympathetic aspect. "I'm sure it's just nervousness brought on with so many changes happening lately, young Match. It's probably best to just focus on your other studies, I'm sure you'll be able to get the hang of this, people learn at their own pace sometimes - you just need to recognise that rather than get deflated by a single lesson that you feel distracted by. I'm sure next time will be fine, if this keeps happening maybe we can even organise some tutoring, but I'm sure it won't come to that. Now," she pauses briefly as her eyes flicker to the clock on the wall, of ornate design and found throughout the school - and similar clocks are in fact found throughout the place beyond this school. "I think it's probably best if you get going, you don't want to be late to your next class, do you?" she continues, her eyes flitting towards the door as she seemingly hopes that that was sufficient to mollify your concerns. Although you do vaguely get the feeling that that didn't really answer anything, but maybe she's right, maybe it's nothing after all. After all, everything is fine. Why wouldn't it be? It doesn't look like you're going to get anything more out of her, time's ticking, and she looks ready to get back to her notes and continuing things as they were. Bellia You manage to convince the Ice Elemental to help you again - since it seems hesitant to comply to this more than once - but you get the feeling it's going to make demands for this at some point. But that's a future problem. It grabs you up in its icy and moreover, cold grasp turns about and tosses you heavily towards the hill. A frozen landscape sails beneath you as the trees and the hill get closer, the cool air rushing against your face. The view is impressive, the speed uncomfortable, but moreover you become painfully aware that you are becoming suspiciously akin to a clay pigeon as another BANG rings out. Haar You try to think it through, given what you have seen and felt and heard, and know. All the while you wander - hopefully to jog your thoughts, when you find yourself having made your way all the way to your beloved! No time for such doubts to trouble your mind, it's now or never. You calmly make your way to Eira, your heart beating in your chest. She's just finished a class, and fawns are going off for a break-time, leaving your love to make preparations for the next. You approach her, the certainty in your actions clear, your hair braided with primroses, you extend your hand (as is the way) and she knows (after all, why wouldn't she?), she moves to clasp your hand and looks ready to speak when.... Take damage. ...you wake up in your bed. You feel warm and cosy, enticing aromas linger upon the air - and you are surrounded by what was once the familiar. The snow outside is falling steadily, but you are home. You are not alone, because you know that she is here. What a strange dream, today is the day, obviously. It's so strongly held in your mind that you just dreamt about how the day would go, but this time it's for real - and it's going to go perfectly. It's morning, and she'd be in the allée, teaching the fawns. Time to make preparations so that you might propose to Eira in the proper way! quote:The First Gift: Don't forget what happened to the person who got everything they always wanted: They lived happily ever after. Everyone What do you do?
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Feb 7, 2024 14:00
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Match inclines his head and considers Miss Therai’s words. He follows her eyes first to one of the many clocks present around his school, and then towards the door. I think Miss Therai is trying to tell me something without words. I have observed that people sometimes tell things with their words and without words that are different. Sometimes they tell things without their words that are the opposite of their words. But I understand all of this now. My friends and tutors taught it to me, and I understood all of it. I… should not be confused by what Miss Therai said. I should not be confused. I wanted to apologize to Miss Theria that I could not concentrate. I wanted Miss Theria’s advice on what I should do about the thing I cannot remember, but also cannot forget. Miss Theria only talked about me not being able to concentrate and how I could learn better. I… yes. I think it is because I did not ask her for advice directly enough. I think that Miss Therai is also very busy. I should not bother her anymore, even though I still have questions. Sometimes I should stop asking questions or people will get angry or sad. I made… someone angry with my question once. Someone else told me what I should do to not make them angry and sad. They were both… I should remember them both. But… but I don’t remember. Match’s head sways left and right for a few moments as he tries to come to a decision. “Thank you, Miss Therai. I will tell you or another teacher if I need help with tutoring. I will try to remember and ask other people for help too..” He stops, and then, he smiles. “I am meeting my friends in the evening.” The automaton leaves, now suddenly aware of the time left until his next class, how quickly he would be able to get to it. Just outside the classroom, he finds Ring waiting for him, still clutching his school satchel in front of them, their head lowered. “Hello Ring. You waited for me.” I should go to my next class. Miss Therai told me to. Ring wants to go to our next class with me too. But… I cannot remember. I am not sure I will be able to concentrate during my next class. And I also cannot remember the person I asked too many questions to and that I made angry. I cannot remember the person that told me to not ask too many questions. Why can I not remember? Am I defective? I was not defective before, anymore. Am I getting more damaged? Am I… ill? I have observed that I was created to be similar to people of flesh and bone in many ways. But why would I be able to get ill? No. I need to try to remember. I do not want to be ill. People of flesh and bone forget things often and then remember them again. Maybe I am not ill. Maybe I am not defective. “Ring, please go to our next class without me. Please tell the teacher that I… do not feel well and that I am very sorry. I will come to class as soon as I can.” He puts a hand onto Ring’s shoulder, hoping that he has not confused or even scared RIng with his words, that they will trust him and go on. Match looks around himself, feeling slightly confused and unsure. He sees a bench at the end he is in, and moves towards it. He finds his legs to be oddly heavy, sluggish, and suddenly, he almost stumbles. The thought of falling, of not being able to properly do something as simple as walking, causes him to briefly feel ashamed - along with feeling that this too, is reminding him of something that he has forgotten. Match takes a seat on the bench. He looks outside through the row of windows opposite of him, through the frost-covered glass. Snow covers peaceful trees. All is quiet. It is still a beautiful day. The world is as it should be, but Match is not sure if he is. He leans forward and tries to remember as hard as he can, even though he does not truly know how. I have observed that people sometimes get angry at their memory if it does not work. They talk as if it is something that is not them, as if it is something that is fighting against them. But that is not true. Is it? There is nothing I am fighting against. It is only… I do not know. I hope it is not a defect. But then… Why can I not remember? quote:nil (Match) Request: [2d6+2] Roll: [6, 5] Result: 13 Reason: Overcome to remember
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Feb 9, 2024 22:04
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Bellia Breakstar, The Kimera(Orc) Infinite Oregano posted:
Bellia can't help but smile as the next shot rings out with her in the air. It would've been a real pain had the sniper taken the time she had to spend crossing the river to relocate, but firing from a known position is so much easier to deal with. She'd already been holding her rock club in defense of her vitals when the Ice Elemental went to toss her, and with the speed and trajectory of the throw reducing the attack vectors further it strikes exactly where Bellia expected her enemy to aim for. The rock club collapses at the impact much like the Arms Launcher had, but breaking a weapon in service of defeating a foe is precisely what it was made for. [Rolled a 7 to Overcome the Sniper shot, breaking one of my Orc-Made weapons as my Price to take the 10+ result.]
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Feb 9, 2024 23:48
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Haar, Woodspeaker quote:Damaged Sense Haar throws off the furs off her bed, rolling off of the frame in a fit of grogginess. She splashes her face with icy water, shaking her head gently to loosen the droplets that cling to her fur. Why such odd dreams? It must be that she's nervous- that's all. Still, it feels like she has forgotten something important... Brisa, Elder! Of course! Haar smiles in relief as she throws on a simple green dress- the one Eira likes. How could she make such a proposal without Brisa there?! As she strides out of her chalet, full of purpose, the grey-furred Aprous is whistling a bouncy tune on her porch, hands expertly knitting what looks to be the start of some mittens for a fawn. "'ello love! Bit late to just be starting your day, no?" Brisa, Elder calls, as Haar energetically approaches. "I had to think some things through this morning, Brisa, Elder." Haar says, leaning over the wooden railing of the porch, her fingers gently drumming the timber. "Today is the day! I'm proposing to Eira, and I would be honoured if you would join me." Brisa's grin stretches across her weathered face, and Haar can see that she is welling up behind her thick glasses. "Oh, Lights Above, it's happening! Didn't I always say you'd make a wonderful couple?!" Haar giggles softly, feeling her cheeks redden, as Brisa, Elder, continues. "I would be honoured, Haar, Woodspeaker. I can't walk as well as I used to...but I'd not miss this for the world." --- Hours later, having completed all the preparations necessary for such a momentous occasion, Haar stands on the path to the ailée- much like in her dream. However, now, in the reality of gentle sun and crisp, nourishing air, she had another beside her. Brisa, Elder gently takes hold of Haar's arm, the latter helping her to keep steady, as they make their way to the ailée- and to Eira. The townsfolk behind him, the two walk. "You'll have to forgive an old lady for my musings," Brisa, Elder starts, taking soft and measured steps, "but do you remember when you injured your leg, chasing birds in the forest?" Haar chuckles, shaking her head in embarrassment, keeping her arm firm for Brisa. "I was but a fawn, Brisa, Elder- and one with her head in the clouds, sometimes." Brisa nodded. "Oh yes...well, I remember how forlorn you were, unable to play with the others for a season whilst it healed...but Eira would come, every day, bringing nettles for tea and sweets a plenty." "And she'd have eaten almost all of them before she got into the chalet!" Haar remarks fondly, teasing. "My point is, Haar, Woodspeaker," Brisa says, her tone almost lecturing, "that even back then, Eira was always thinking about you; always ready to do anything she could to make you happy. Promise me you'll do the same for her." Haar looks at Brisa with determination, her orange eyes flashing like topazes. "Of course. I would give her anything, and I will give her everything." Brisa beams with delight, patting her spare hand on Haar's arm in understanding. "Then let's get you to the ailée, shall we?"
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Feb 11, 2024 19:20
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Agios Nikolaos "the Wonderworker", the HarbingerInfinite Oregano posted:Nikolaos Nikolaos pauses when he sees the ship again. Back to square one. "Well, then," he mutters to himself. "This plan isn't going to work without breaking a few fundamental rules of Gift-Bringer magic. I'd better try to warn Match and Haar." Drawing upon his Gift-Bringer magic, Nikolaos closes his eyes and again brings to mind the vivid image of Match, wondering what his apprentice might be doing at this time. He remembered Match's answer to his questions: a classroom in a peaceful village. Frost outside. "Find me," Nikolaos whispers. "Find me, Match, for a sorcery most powerful indeed bars me from finding you." "Find me, your dear friend, Nikolaos." The distance is too great, the message too long. Nikolaos takes a breath and tries again. "Find me. Your Nikolaos." "Find me. Your N." "Find me. N." Find me. N. The window in front of Match cracks with an almost imperceptible ting sound. The cracks form a word. "Find me. N." it reads. Nikolaos takes a deep breath, tries to focus on Haar now. He has no idea what her wish could be, or where she is. Hopefully some message gets through to her as well? He tries to imagine Haar, but the image is slightly less convincing, less fresh in his mind. His mind wanders back to Match, out of concern, and the images of Haar and Match mix in his mind. He wonders if Haar feels as concerned about Match as Nikolaos himself does. Haar has pockets, does she not? At least, Nikolaos vaguely recalls so. And in his mind, he crafts a sad, little wooden doll, exactly like Match. And he Gifts it into Haar's pocket, wherever she is. And with those two things out of the way, Nikolaos prepares to shatter the First Gift's illusion over him.
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Feb 12, 2024 22:26
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Match You force yourself to think, drawing upon what logic you can deduce from what you have observed here and what fragments that you vaguely feel - trying to concentrate on all the little details and where they meet or where they differ. Then the cracks start to form, bit by bit, little by little, spreading out from the points of contact where things aren't quite right, or where things are too perfect or where familiarity seems richer, as connections to something else. At this point you realise it, although it hurts a little to think of it right now, there are two sets of conflicting memories, one on top of the other - smothering it, the box... the box! The First Gift, you were carrying it - it opened, you were sucked in. It's woven a more pleasant reality over what is true, for whatever reason. It seems like it's trying to get you to accept this false world as real, but there are still things happening outside of here, more important things. If you want to see them again, you'll realise you'll have to say goodbye to this... experience, and face the cold world outside. Almost on cue a cryptic message subtly manifests itself seemingly with no cause in the glass on the window in front of you. "Find me. N." In very fancy handwriting. Bellia You block the shot with your braced club, it shattering in your hands but stopping you from being hit yourself as you sail forth through the air, across the perilous thin ice of the frozen river and into the trees, upon the hill that stretches forth in pursuit of your erstwhile assailant. As you tumble and land heavily in the snow amidst the trees, the density of them becomes apparent as gloom shades you - but you still need to track down exactly where the sharpshooter was firing from, as although your Ice Elemental assistant showed vigour, they perhaps lacked the aim or perceptivity that you had of your target, not to mention trying to direct such a creature so specifically might not be possible, regardless. But you're here and no longer in direct line of sight of your foe. All in all a positive step - but you can't take too long because you are keenly aware that they saw you make your way across, and will likely be on the lookout. Haar This time, the real time (of course), it will go perfect! There's no doubt about that! As you are about to take your next step towards the ailée you feel something shift, you hadn't noticed until now but there's something in your pocket, a strange doll... a bit like an artist's mannequin. It seems vaguely memorable, but you can't put a finger on as to why... Nikolaos Having dispatched messages towards two of your comrades, you focus and draw upon your mystical puissance, trying to interfere with the very workings of the First Gift. It takes time, and you feel the strain it puts upon you heavily, sweat pouring from your brow. There is a glow as the nature of the dream around you starts to shift, and then the sound of jingling bells, as though from a great distance. Day and night shift rapidly, as the flow of the people behind you form into a blur, as though rapidly moving through the appointed motions set forth by this dream. The jingling grows louder, and nearer. The glow more intense. The smell of fresh holly, and driven snow. A wind whips up, moving your clothes and hair. The jingling seems to speed up until it reaches a crescendo. Then it happens, a tinkling and a crunch followed by a weirdly resonant shattering of glass, the air ahead of you cracks outwards until a cracked section shatters to reveal a swirling sky of prismatic colours: An aurora! With the auroric sky comes a susurrus of wishes in many voices and many languages, to the unaccustomed it likely would not mean much, but it is at the very least emotionally straining to a Gift-Bringer: So many wishes, devoid of their wishers. Pay A Price But your way is clear, the world that lies outside the dream with an aurora-filled sky beckons: Freedom. From here it looks like a snowy, sleepy landscape, dotted with many many festive trees all bedecked in tinsel and decorations and baubles and glowing, shifting lights - all prime for the big day - gifts beneath them, so proud and ready. The sky ablaze with a scintillating aurora that is so powerful it is the sky itself, what would otherwise be a peaceful scene is disturbed by the insistent wishing susurrus with seemingly no beginning nor end.  Everyone What do you do?
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Feb 13, 2024 21:24
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Match closes his eyes, lowers his head and folds his hands together, for he has observed that this is what some people do when lost deep in thought. He would very much like to discuss his problem and concerns with one of his teachers or friends, but he tells himself that he should first try to solve this challenge himself, maybe even more so because it concerns himself. The automata explores his own thoughts, as he has done many times before, for to him the world is full of my questions and strange things. Match inclines his head at the thought and wonders if this is truly so. I remember thinking that I am happy that I understand a lot and do not need to ask many questions. Did I not understand a lot and needed to ask many questions before? I think that is correct. But before… what? I do not remember. Is that the thing I cannot remember and cannot forget? I think that the world is full of questions and strange things. I think that I understand a lot and do not need to ask many questions. That does not… not… match. I do not remember noticing this before today. I remember being happy here in my town, learning and helping people. Did I forget noticing that I could not remember things and that my thoughts did not match? No. I would have told my friends and teachers. They would have helped me, like we help anyone who is sick or hurt or damaged. Are my thoughts… defective? If my body is damaged, I know how to repair it. I do not know how to repair my thoughts. I am not sure anyone in town knows how to repair the thoughts of a person made of wood. I am… scared. Match opens his eyes, suddenly concerned that someone may see him there, sitting by himself, not attending class. He feels uncertain, frightened, and the beautiful look outside the window when he woke up this morning seems far away. He does not feel happy. And then, his mind finds a loose thread, another elusive memory that seems to hide itself, tries to slip out of grasp - then another memory, and another - and it seems as if they pile up, until finally, they tumble forward… and Match remembers. “Oh.” I remember now. I dropped the First Gift. I fell into the First Gift. Am I…. inside it now? I should not have dropped the First Gift. It was important. The others told me it was important. I should have been more careful. I wanted to help… Haar, but I did not. I should have… He hears a small but distinctive noise, a crack from the window he gazed through. Match’s head jerks up and with some surprise, he realizes that the cracks form a written message. "Find me. N." For a second, Match simply stares at the words, thinking. He lowers his head. A minute passes. Finally, Match looks up at the ceiling, sitting all alone in the school corridor, and he speaks in a quiet voice. “Hello. I am Match. Can you hear me? We called you ‘The First Gift’. I do not know if that is your name. I would like to talk to you.” A moment passes. “Before I fell into you, I asked myself what kind of gift you could be. I thought that you must be a very special gift. I thought that maybe you were a wish. I think that maybe I was right. I think that you listened to me, and made my wish come true.” Match looks left, then right, listening to the peaceful noise of the creaking wood of the school, the muffled sound of footsteps through snow from outside, the friendly talk of the townsfolk accompanying them. “I want to thank you. The town is very beautiful. My teachers, the other students and my friends are good to me. I think you did your task properly. If I do my task properly, I feel good. I hope you also feel good.” “I…” Match lowers his head. “I am not sure I can explain it right. I will try. I think… you think that my wish is that I want to understand the world and help people. I think you are right. You have made a place where I would be happy. But…” He sways his head back and forth, searching for words. “I do not understand the world, only this place you made for me. I am not helping the people in the world, only the ones in this place you made for me. I think… it is not a bad thing. But I want to understand the world outside, and help the people there. And… I think there are people that need my help. I think Nikolaos is looking for me. I think Haar maybe needs my help, and I want to try again to help her. I could not help her last time.” The wooden automaton looks up again, wooden eyes locked onto the wooden ceiling. “I have observed that people often do not like it if others try to trick them. Sometimes they get angry. I am not angry at you. I think you are doing what you were made to do. I understand that. And I think it is… good to know that learning about the world, helping people and having friends would make me happy. Sometimes I do not know what to do. I once heard someone say that it is important to have goals. I think you may have shown me that this goal is good.” Match silently scrapes the bench he sits on with a wooden finger. “Thank you. But I want to go now. I want to find my other… friends and help them if I can. I want to go to Nikolaos first.” Match waits. No answer is forthcoming yet. The cold wind blows outside, but the school corridor is warm and comfortable. “I want to say another thing. I am… I think I am not like most people of wood. I have dreams. I did not know what dreams were at first. I was very confused. Nikolaos explained it to me. When he did, I was very afraid that I made the people in my dreams disappear by waking up. That I made them stop existing. Making someone stop moving and thinking is usually a very bad thing. Nikolaos explained that the people in my dreams were not real people, but only people in my thoughts.” He stares at the wooden beam holding up the ceiling, at one of the knots in the wood. “The people in this town are good people. If they are real people and not just people in my thoughts, can you please let them exist and be happy after I leave?”
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Feb 14, 2024 20:55
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Haar, Woodspeaker Haar pauses, mid-step, as she suddenly feels a weight drop into the pocket of her dress. Her brow furrows as she extracts a wooden doll, posed with a hand outstretched, palm up. Brisa, Elder, cocks her head, eyeing the doll. "A gift for Eira, Academic?" She asks, as Haar shakes her head. "No...and I don't know how it got in my pocket..." she replies softly, turning the doll over in her hands gingerly. It is expertly made, smoothly sanded and varnished to a pristine shine. The doll is humanoid, with proportions that seem realistic...though shorter than an Aprous, and stockier than the pointed-eared nomads who occasionally stay in Apricity. "It's very well-made..." Haar continues, raising the doll to her snout, sniffing it over. It certainly smells like the familiar lumber of her forests, but the metal joints that pose the dolls' limbs are unrecognisable to the Woodspeaker. "...but certainly not one of my works." And yet, it is somehow familiar to her... "How curious!" Brisa, Elder remarks, tugging Haar's arm in the softest of ways. "It must have been one of the other Woodspeakers. A mystery I'm sure can wait until after you have proposed, love!" Haar doesn't move. Her eyes dart over the doll's minutiae, as she scours her mind for an inkling of why it seems so familiar...there's something in the doll's posture, the blank face...the way it seems to have materialised from thin air. Brisa, Elder rolls her eyes, craning her neck up at Haar. "Dear me! I know you're interested in the handiwork, but can't it wait? You've got the bloody love of your life waiting at the end of the trail!" "I-I know, Brisa, Elder..." Haar starts, attempting to find the words. "...this just feels important, for some reason." Brisa, Elder, tuts loudly, hobbling to take a seat upon a nearby bench, as Haar remains fixated on the doll. If the doll has only questions for her, perhaps the wood itself might have answers. Haar closes her eyes, clutching the doll tightly, raising it close to her mouth. She thinks of a wide, never-ending forest, and in her mind she is weaving between their trunks. Haar takes deep breaths, until, she reaches the same tree that created this doll. She places her hand upon it, and she can feel not only the gnarled bark, but the very spirits that caused it to grow. Presently, Haar gently whispers to the doll. "Hello...thank you for sprouting from your sapling, and thank you for growing so tall. Thank you for becoming this doll, and thank you for coming to me, today." Haar's whisper is breathy and incredibly soft- meant only for herself and the doll. Her tone is nurturing, loving- after all, it is a conversation between her and the spirits of nature. "Today...well, today's quite the special day for me. At least, I hope it is...but I've got an inkling you're quite special, too. If you'd be so kind...can you tell me why?" quote:Haar, Itinerant Request: [2d6 +1] Roll: [6, 4] Result: 11 Reason: Overcome
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Feb 15, 2024 14:28
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Bellia Breakstar, The Kimera(Orc) Infinite Oregano posted:
The landing was only a little rougher than Bellia anticipated, but was still enough to force her to spend longer than she'd like to catch her breath. Couldn't exactly disguise my approach, such as it is. Nothing for it but to let them fire again, she thinks as she springs up and charges toward her last estimation of the sniper's position. "If it's a fight you want, here I am!" quote:Agent Rush(Bellia) Request: [2d6-1] Roll: [6, 1] Result: 6 Reason: Get Away to the sniper
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Feb 17, 2024 00:15
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Agios Nikolaos "the Wonderworker", the HarbingerInfinite Oregano posted:
Swirling, exploding, noisy and gaudy visions batter Nikolaos' senses; the experience reels him, and he supports himself by his staff until the fear of collapsing has receded. And, after that, the only feeling that remains is a deep sense of being so very, very tired. Perhaps mixed with some regret. Nikolaos has damaged his Blood stat. But what has been done, is done, and it was necessary to break this reverie. I simply hope this won't cause more damage to Gifts in the long run. Worries for later, Nikolaos thinks by himself. And so he adjusts his miter, wraps his cloak comfortably around him. "It may surprise you, Match, but I need your help," Nikolaos whispers. "I need you, and Haar, and the others. We must stand together. I pray that is sufficient to find this town you mentioned." And with that, Nikolaos sets off ahead, praying for good fortune.
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Feb 22, 2024 10:52
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Match At first there is nothing, but your thoughts, the ticking of the clocks, the shifting of snow against windows, and other ambient noises that had been present the entire time that you had been in this illusory world. Then there is a subtle shift, slow but inevitable, like as though the flow of all things are moving inevitably in a particular direction. Bit by bit, little by little, the atmosphere changes - the world seems lighter, although perhaps not less real so much as you seem less real. Subtle clues and signs and just the way everything is lit leads you off down a corridor slowly, as you turn a corner and the geometry of this place seems to have changed when you were not paying attention - you notice that another class is on. You know of course now that you cannot attend, nor should you, lingering here would only seek to frustrate you or worse, torment you. However, your fears, if any, are soon allayed as you peer in through the windows on the door to the classroom, and see the class in session, including you. A phantom you attending a phantom class. This makes what comes next obvious: If there is a phantom you attending phantom classes, then surely this whole place will continue as it is, even with another you here to complete the working, it would be as though you had never left - possibly forever. A perfect little world, untouched by the ravages of the cold outside. Perhaps it is better this way. Now you don't even have to say goodbye. Now all that is left is to leave, but the way out is clear, as though the world itself here is leading you along, gently but insistently, like a tour or perhaps more appropriately a production line. It would be simple to leave, in fact by now it would be more difficult not to do so. Haar As you stare deeply at the doll, you feel a deep chill start to radiate from your core, like someone has walked over your grave. Match. Bit by bit, like beads of icy rain, which rapidly becomes driving nails falling from the heavens, memories seep into you, initially akin to droplets disturbing your thoughts before becoming a deluge. With these memories any joy or happiness you felt in this place, this grand illusion, bleeds away like rivulets of crimson red from a deep and fatal wound. As these positive emotions drain away, and the truth rises to the surface like a rotten corpse on the surface of a placid pool, buoyed by the terrible gases that putrefaction forms - other darker emotions well up, rising like smoke - anger, and despair, amongst others. It's too late. It's been too late for a long time now. You feel hungry. Perhaps you always did, and this intoxicating dream merely made you forget. Now you remember the cold and dark. The curse is starting to return, as though on cue - perhaps it was waiting in the wings all this time, patient but inevitable. As your curse starts to return, bit by bit, tell us how it manifests. With your memories returning, your vision starts to darken as the false world around you grows bleaker, drabber, darker, although maybe it was always like this and the scales that covered your eyes (that are falling away now) merely made you not notice. Maybe you were better off with blessed ignorance. Perhaps this is not the time to fall into inactivity and sorrow, because there is a world without. Cold, cruel reality. There is nothing for you here now. Nothing but torment. In fact, not only is there a world without, there are others, others who are real, not mere illusions conjured to fool you into thinking that the past could be changed. How does the world around you otherwise look and feel now you realise the truth? Bellia Best to rush ahead, I mean, seizing the initiative is probably your best bet, right? You begin your charge when suddenly you hear a nearby jingle and stumble into a snare, a cord of silvery tinsel that blended in with the snow snaps taut around your ankle and drags you upwards into the trees. As you reach the top and begin to dangle upside down with the world lurching around you discombobulatingly, jingle bells attached to the trap ring off loudly in a long chain. With that, you hear the heavy crunching of a group of people rapidly advancing on your position, through the snow - obviously attracted by the trap going off. Not the sharpshooter who has yet to show themselves again but another peril. Nikolaos Stepping into the wide yonder if the greater area of the First Gift, free from your dream. The snow crunches heavily beneath your footsteps, but with each step, there is a definite jingle - as though the snow itself sings with each step that you make. It is cold here, but it is a fresh cold - like on a winter's morn, however there is no discernible day or night here in the traditional sense, but it does seem more nightlike than daylike. The atmosphere of never-ending whispered wishes furthermore enhances the strangeness of this place. Taking a look around after you whispered to yourself, and you can see it could be easy for someone to get lost amongst this enchanted forest. Many many many trees stand here, all bedecked almost (but not quite) identically and all incredibly festive. Turning around you see the rift that you created still hang upon the air, extruding itself out of a battered-looking present beneath one of the trees, the label on this gift has your name on it. Although this gift, unlike the others around the same tree or the others around other trees that you can see nearby, is wrapped in grey, dull chains - entirely unfestive in appearance. The other gifts have names on their labels as well, many many names for many many presents, although a lot of the names look a bit faded and worn, as though these gifts have been sitting here a while, untended in the cold. With so many trees and so many presents, it's difficult to work out which way to go. Everyone What do you do? Infinite Oregano fucked around with this message at 11:24 on Feb 24, 2024 |
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Feb 23, 2024 02:03
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 H̶̫̆a̷͇̎Ả̷̮Ŕ̸̘,̶͚̅ ̴͔̉\̷̹͌/̶̬̇\̶̬͆/̶̮̚o̶̬͌O̷̧͠|̶̨͂)̵̖͌S̷͈̉p̴̲̕ξ̶͓̃α̸͚̚k̴̖̚,̷̹̈/̴͔̍ḙ̴͘Ȑ̴͉ Haar's grip tightens on the doll instinctively, as a wave of terrible realisation washes over her. It feels as if she has been stabbed, deep in the pit of her stomach by a sword of ice. The doll's- no, Match's- wooden limbs start to creak under the pressure of her grasp, and Haar staggers backward. Match, the mannequin who moved with a life of his own. Who, despite her own nastiness, never failed in trying to help her. He had been flung into some sort of light...and Haar had not been far behind... "No...no no no..." She gasps, memories assaulting her senses, each experience flashing like a searing light behind her eyeballs. "Are you alright, my dear?" Brisa, Elder asks from afar, though her voice suddenly seems like a mocking impression. Brisa, Elder, is long dead; one of the first to fall when He came. Haar clamps her eyes shut, wincing, and when they open again, suddenly Brisa is in front of her, offering a concerned hand. "You're looking a bit peaky..." Her voice croons, and it is simultaneously familiar and completely wrong at the same time. Haar peers down at the bent-backed, elderly woman who raised her, torn between love for the genuine article, and disgust for this false imitation. Haar swats Brisa's arm away, stacking a step back, clutching the doll of Match to her chest. "No...you're not real!" She hisses, head swivelling to and fro. "None of this is." It's suddenly as if the sharp reality of her words have pierced the veil that clouded her world. The sun is obscured by thick, choking black clouds. The once verdant forest starts to bleed its colour away, withering. The spirits around her scream in a constant agony, begging for her help. Welcoming trees start to twist and contort, snapping sharply into haggard positions. Their roots, now thorned, weave through stone and soil, upturning all in their path. Haar tries to still her shaking body, as the roots curve through the crowd of townsfolk behind her, darting at them like hungry snakes, ready to gobble up their idle prey. A root thrusts itself through Brisa, Elder's chest, and she is raised aloft, meeting the height of Haar's fearful gaze. Brisa smiles, wildly, as the root treats her like a marionette. "Of course we're real." Brisa soothes, her body withering as if its very life was being drained to nourish the root. "We're a reminder of what you couldn't save." "And we'll always be with you," continued Guthrie, Declarant, bobbing to and fro in a mockery of sentience, "for you cannot escape your penitence." Haar sobs, eyes streaming as she scrambles back from the gnarled roots. She rises to her feet, preparing to sprint away from the mocking corpses of those she had once loved...but a lashing pain strikes her throat. She gurgles, chokes, splutters, feeling the sensation of warm blood dribble down her neck, as it had once before. Still, she tries to run, still holding the Match doll, until her leg starts to falter. First flake, then patch, then chunk start to fall away like disturbed snowfall, until there is nothing left Haar slams to the ground, falling harshly on her right arm as it crumbles to dust. She feels her will to exist slowly ebb away, a lone flower picked up by a breeze. Her eyesight blackens, cloudy, as the corpses loom above her, a vague pinprick of blurry colours. "And what of your love, Haar, Woodspeaker?" A chorus of voices coo cruelly. "She was so eager to see you..." The pitch around her is interrupted, sucked away as if a vacuum had opened in the corners of her vision. In an instant, Haar is aware of the ground, cold upon her long limbs. She can feel a thinner-than-thin cloth gently lapping at her heels. Her head feels heavy, slow to move, and with great difficulty she lumbers upwards, standing taller than she did a few moments ago. Her hands flex, sharp claws dragging along her forearm bones, causing a high-pitched screech, and she shrugs her shoulders beneath her raimant, as if testing her form. There are no more tears, no sobs of anguish. The world around Haar is a lie, its sickening depictions no crueller than the thoughts she lived with every night. ---  Surrounded by the puppeteered bodies of those she loves, Haar raises tall. She cranes her neck upwards- though she no longer feels the tug of skin, just the endless, hungering void. Oh, how hungry she is... "Trapper!" Her voice howls, piercing through the night. "I am Haar, Itinerant. You have forced me here, fooled me...given me hope." The bells on her tendrilled hair ring gently, as she eyes those around her with detachment. This would never be how she would remember them. "Let me speak clearly, providing you hear me." She continues, throwing back her raiment, and revealing her claws. "I will find my allies. I will escape this lie. If you are Him, then I promise- when next we meet, I will make you pay for the anguish you have caused to the innocent." Haar, Itinerant's claws are keen. "And if you are not Him, but one of His agents...then pray He finds you before I do." Skeletome fucked around with this message at 16:23 on Feb 23, 2024 |
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Feb 23, 2024 14:25
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Match waits for something to happen, wondering whether the First Gift can hear and understand him - or whether he is simply talking with nobody but himself, as he did when he attempted to strike up a conversation with the statue of a soldier in a town’s central square which commemorated a victory in a war fought long ago. Then, like a sudden yet gentle gust of wind moving leaves in the wind, there is a change in everything around Match. The wooden automaton inclines his head, trying to understand what is happening - and why somehow, it feels to him as if everything he sees now seems less real. I think what is happening is strange. It is difficult to describe. But I think… I know what it means. I think the First Gift is allowing me to see that this world is not real. It is like…me realizing that the painting I was looking at is very good, but it is not the same thing as what it is a painting of. It is like when I wake up from a dream, remember a part of it, and notice that it does not make sense, even though it made sense when I was dreaming. Dreams are strange. But I think the First Gift heard me. That is good. My mind was not defective. I am no longer scared. Match stands up from the bench, feeling the urge to move forward instead of sitting. The corridors of the school seem strange, though not threatening to him, like a theater's stage he is standing on being hastily rearranged by unseen hands just out of sight. He arrives at what he knows to be the classroom where his next class would be, though the way towards it seems dreamlike, as if it happened in an instant. The automaton looks through the window on the door, unsure of what he will see inside - uncertain of what he will do if he were to see everyone waiting for him, expectantly. What he sees is both a surprise and somehow expected. “Ah.” At the table he should sit at sits another Match, attentively following the lecture and taking notes. Match looks at his mirror image, yet again unable to put into words what he is thinking, though he knows that the other Match is happy - and so is he himself. Match puts a wooden hand against the window, wondering whether others - like Haar, Nikolaos, the tired men and women - see him as he sees himself now. “Strange.” He looks past the other Match, sees Ring at the table next to him, looking for guidance from the other Match with a difficult part of the lecture. Yarum and Aleia are in the row in front of them, whispering to each other while the teacher is not looking. I think he is happy. I was happy. The First Gift is doing what I asked for. That is good. Still, it feels… strange. I want to leave this world because it is not real, because I want to understand the world outside and help the others there. I did not ask the First Gift to forget that this world is not real, so I could be happy again. Would the other Match be angry at me for making this decision? WOuld he want to know the truth? I do not know. I think… I hope I am making the right decision. I think it is better than everyone disappearing and no longer existing. Maybe… maybe I should… Match takes out his school notebook he is still carrying, his name on the front. He wonders whether he should write a message to his other self, but cannot shake the feeling that he would falter once he put the pen to paper - or that he would somehow make things worse for the little world the First Gift created for him. He hesitates, willing himself to understand more, to be able to say the right things, wise things, to his other self. Somewhere down the school’s corridors, the ticking of a clock subtly gets louder, until there is a final click. Match finds himself walking away from the classroom. He remembers starting to walk, but not why. A moment later, he is further down the corridor, towards the school's great front door. On a bench now out of reach, he can see his school satchel, collection of pencils and his notebook, left behind. He remembers putting them down just moments before, though he can no longer recall why. The notebook does not contain a final message to the other Match. The automaton briefly considers turning around, but as if in answer, he can again hear the ticking of the clock somewhere down the many corridors. “I think I understand.” As soon as the last word has left his mouth, he finds himself in front of the school’s front door, and he can no longer feel the strange pull urging him forward. Whatever was driving him now seems as if it is waiting - waiting for him to take the last step. Match looks up at the wooden ceiling. The only sound is that of students and teachers murmuring in their classroom, behind stout wooden walls, and the cold winter wind outside. “Thank you, First Gift. I did not want these people to disappear and stop being happy because of me. I want to tell you something. I do not know where you came from. I was built, and I was also meant to be a gift for others. But I was defective. I think that is why I was thrown away, because I could not do the task I was given like I was supposed to.” Match peers back over his shoulder. Through a window, he can see a small group trudging through the snow in the distance. Far away, but Match knows who they are. There is the Craftswoman, carrying two massive tree logs on her shoulders, laughing. There is the Warden, keeping a little distance from the rest of the group, but still following their conversation, adding a quick remark only once in a while. There is the Trio, running this way and that, one of them handing out a book to a passing villager, another throwing a snowball at the Warden. There is the Head Teacher, in the front, talking to a woman looking less worried by the moment, kneeling down to give an apple to the child at the woman’s side. Match smiles and then looks back up at the ceiling. “I was a gift. I was thrown away because I could not do my task. That is… not as it should be. These people you made were your gift to me. Thank you for not throwing them away because they could not do their task. I think it would have made me very sad. It is… important to me.” He lowers his head. The front door’s great metal doors handle gleams, polished by the many hands of the people that learn in it. Match reaches out and puts his wooden hand on it. “I need to leave now and find my friends. We need to help people on the outside. I want to learn about a lot of things. If you want, you can tell me… what you want.” Match remembers a phrase he heard some time ago. He did not understand it at the time, and still is not sure he does, but he changes it to fit the moment. “From one gift to another.” quote:Trying to Forge a Bond with the First Gift. Match opens the school's great front doors. A cold, forceful wind blows into his face. Beyond the door is blinding, cold white. He steps outside, and the door closes behind him.
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Feb 24, 2024 22:06
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Agios Nikolaos "the Wonderworker", the HarbingerInfinite Oregano posted:Nikolaos Nikolaos pauses amidst the trees, watching his breath form little clouds that rise up and disappear into the rift above. This place is calming, in a sense, but unnerving. A liminal space in every sense of the word, that puts all your senses on edge, indefinitely. Nikolaos shivers when he sees the present with his name on it, its chains a reminder that somebody wanted to keep him forever. For once, his immortality seemed like a cruel joke; locked in a prison where not even death can save you. "It is merely the cold," he tells himself, trying to put up a brave face for himself. The amount of gifts around here is staggering. Nikolaos examines the gifts closest to his own, hoping that the First Gift had the decency to put Haar and Match near his, but the names do not ring any bells. Some of the gifts are even unlabelled, or anonymous "to whom it concerns". Having examined a few trees and their gifts in detail, Nikolaos feels his initial bravado evaporate. There's simply so much stuff here, like a needle in a haystack. Nikolaos wonders whether all of these gifts contain actual people who are trapped, like he himself was. And for a moment he considers simply opening them up one by one, regardless of the name. Now, it is a grave sin to open a gift addressed to somebody else... But if there are trapped people, Nikolaos feels a duty to try and hlep them, too. Besides, for every prisoner he rescues, they might help him open up gifts, making the process exponentially faster? And so Nikolaos crouches next to a small, pink gift, labelled "Francesca". This one looks in mint condition, save for a thin layer of frost that has begun coating it. The cute wrapping makes it look innocuous enough. Cautiously, he picks the gift up with both hands, wipes away the frost, rolls it between his hands to feel the weight, and tries to divine the contents. Should I unwrap this one? Nikolaos looks over his should, admires the forestscape and the endless boxes of gifts. As good a start as any, I suppose... quote:Nikolaos looks closely and rolls an 8. Deltasquid fucked around with this message at 23:02 on Mar 11, 2024 |
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Feb 25, 2024 15:38
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Bellia Breakstar, The Kimera(Orc) Infinite Oregano posted:
As Bellia hangs in the air thanks to the latest obstacle she ran headfirst into, she can't help but laugh. "Oh, I do hope you're as entertaining in close range as you are at a such a remove," she says while preparing herself to curl up and inward, just enough to get her hands around the snare. "Upside down is no way to greet anyone, how am I supposed to look these visitors in the eye?" she says, focusing on her muscles and shifting her strength to tear the cord apart with her bear hands. [Spending a use of Strong as an Ox to break out of the snare trap.]
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Feb 27, 2024 20:46
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Haar With your true nature newly returned to you, the way out of here is clear. The now cold world around you - shed of any comforts except shades that you no longer feel the capacity to experience positive things except in a fleeting and shallow manner - is insufficient to delay you. Perhaps the only fetters that you had were ones of desire, now with those sundered or at least the realisation that they were fetters breaking the illusion, any pull this false world has upon you is minor at best. From here, the way beyond is simple, a periphery that you had not noticed before but could easily reach now, an edge to this place that your mind - while intoxicated at the possibility of gaining what was once lost - could not or would not perceive. This periphery seems to just be a dithering of this reality, seemingly losing its integrity and focus, like a painting growing more and more unfinished as you get closer to the edge of the canvas. What this means is perhaps a mystery, but whether or not it is one that you would seek to contemplate is up to you. Nonetheless, the way forward is clear and nothing can stop you now should, you wish to leave, and why wouldn't you? The past is the past. There is nothing here for you now, after all. Hopefully there is something for you out there. Cruel reality is, despite everything, still real - accomplishments there can mean something, for better or for worse. Match As you make your way out of this dreamworld, you feel... not quite a connection form, as though there are some greater mysteries to which you are not privy - yet - and it feels as though you do not have the entire picture, although your attempt to find some common ground with the First Gift is an admirable gesture - you feel a faint feeling like looking down a great and deep well, the waters at the bottom glinting faintly in the dark, reflecting the stars above. A feeling that perhaps the First Gift has more layers to it than you can immediately ascertain. However, should you persist perhaps your efforts will bear fruit, but what that entails is not immediately obvious as you.... step outside. The world shimmers and ripples like the fabric of the curtain on a stage being pulled apart to reveal reality on the other side. Or a reality of sorts anyway. Somewhere profoundly strange and mystical. The skies here are ablaze with an everburning aurora that feels as though it is the sky itself. Snow covers everything in a picturesque fashion, and you stand amidst a great forest where each tree seems to be festive and bedecked as it would be on the day, and similarly each of the trees that you can see have presents nestled beneath them, all gaudily wrapped and with bows or similar - like the First Gift itself, and each with name tags, in fact you notice that you seem to have stepped out of a gift with your name on it. A liminal space, but moreover - the true space that is contained within the First Gift. Layers within layers, much like an onion - but much more saccharin. When you arrive, there is no-one here but you, and... is that Provvy? A strange sight, but not an unwelcome one, although there is no sign of Nikolaos. Nikolaos You keenly examine your surroundings, looking for signs of your fellows that are trapped in here. Although initially your efforts do not bear fruit, you do gather some insights - perhaps your giftly aptitudes help. Although there are many many gifts here, their current condition and moreover the state of the name on their tag seems to tell more of a story of their present status as a prison within the First Gift. Not all of these are currently full, in fact most aren't - probably because of the timing... actually that makes you realise something: The nature of the First Gift seems to be to trap people within it with chains of desire and promises of their greatest wish, that much you deduced already, but given the scale of this area and the state of the many many gifts here, it would seem that it is intended to be passed around, to collect people, and that the only reason why it is so vacant right now is probably due to the date. Perhaps he collects it back and empties it out of its contents, before returning it to circulation? The reason as to why is not clear, particularly from inside here - but the purpose is no doubt sinister. Regardless, it would seem that the fresher gifts, especially those with clearly written labels, are the ones that seem to be currently inhabited. As you scan around, you think about if there is any rhyme or reason to the placement of the trees and the gifts and so on that dominate this strange landscape. Then you notice it, a certain pattern forming before you. Leaving this liminal space is simple, as far as you can tell, the world shifts slightly based on your thoughts and feelings - if you desire to leave this area it seems to be simple as far as you can tell, just merely intending to do so and walking in any given direction. However, getting to the centre of the First Gift is likely a bit trickier and will likely require further investigation, perhaps your fellows could assist if that was truly your wish. Deciding to become a bit more hands-on with your investigation, you attempt to open one of the gifts labelled for someone called "Francesca", it is easy enough to open. Perhaps too easy, in fact as soon as the lid comes off you are enveloped in a brilliant white light and the world around you fades once more, heralded with a brief falling sensation. In the distance you think you heard the tolling of Provvy, as though they had just (or were just about to) found you, but this fades as a distance of sorts separates you again. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=usxRnRu-kvc When you open your eyes again, you find yourself somewhere else. You stand atop a great tower, of steel and stone - a relic of the ancient past, it is cold, yuletide in fact, below are arcano-mechanical spotlights shifting across the building as tiny figures and their vehicles have formed a cordon far below. A tense situation is afoot, and it is key that this grandiose tower be surrounded, a trap of some kind? Surrounding you atop this tower are a significant number of structures - likely housings for various arcano-mechanical systems used in the running of such a grandiose and ancient structure as this, alongside a large flat and open pad marked with brightly visible markings and lit up by more lights. A place to land flying mounts or vehicles, perhaps? As you breathe the cold air around you and feel the chill of both the season and the winds at this altitude, your more supernatural senses begin to attune to this environment, and you realise that these present-worlds (one of which you have stepped into) yield more easily to the person that the fantasy was intended for, and those that enter it (gift-giver or not) cannot leave so easily. Bellia With one burst of your prodigious strength, you go tumbling back down to earth, landing in the snow - the white slush below cushioning your fall - and turn to meet the incoming forces. The gleaming armour they wear and helmets that mask their faces underneath make them look like automata at a distance, but their shiny shells merely cover their own mortality - however there's a squad of ten of them, armed with guns and swords, although their armaments look toylike much like their wielders, they are deadly weapons.  quote:Group of Basic Soldiers: Loyal minions of Santa. They burst into the small clearing that you find yourself in, all that marks it is a snow-covered tree stump and the remains of the trap that you destroyed - the bells jingling all the while. As they approach you can definitely tell that they are living soldiers, their armour covers their vitals, but they wear more traditional flexible materials where necessary, the redness of their uniforms likely mask their wounds if it came to that. A number of them shout "Halt, interloper!", as several of them crouch into firing position - and several others advance with their swords drawn. Everyone What do you do?
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Mar 2, 2024 22:57
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Match steps through the door that he would expect leads outside his school, towards snow-covered roads traveled by cheerful townsfolk - but he both knows that everything is an illusion and that in reality, the door will lead him away from this place. The wooden automaton briefly feels a cold wind brushing over his wooden body, and then it is as if time stretches - as if the lights in a theater are dimmed to allow the stagehands to assemble the scenery for the next part of the play. In the long moment between where he came from and where he is going, Match thinks he can sense the First Gift, even though all he can see is darkness. I think the First Gift heard me. I am not sure it understood me. Or maybe we do not understand each other. Maybe I have not explained what I am trying to say well enough. I have observed that telling someone else what you mean clearly is often not enough. It is often also important to know what the other person is feeling, I think. I cannot see the First Gift. I cannot hear the First Gift. But I know that I understood at least a little, but not all of it, and that I do not understand it a lot. Usually I need to see people to know things like that, even though I do not know how I know them. But I do not think it is strange. I often do not understand Haar, but I want to learn more and understand her better. Nikolaos told me that I should not ask Haar so many questions. I could ask the First Gift questions. But I have to find Nikolas and the others. They might need help. And Nikolaos told me to find him. I hope he is not in trouble. If he is in trouble, I hope I can find him before the trouble becomes bad so I can help him. I hope he can tell me if I did the right thing when I left the people the First Gift made for my wish. It seems as if the darkness surrounding Match contracts, and then opens up, as if he was surfacing from under the water. The automaton finds himself in a snow-covered forest under a black sky streaked with a brilliant, multi-coloured aurora. Match inclines his head, gazes up into the sky and briefly wonders whether he has returned to the lands he wandered through when he first escaped from Santa, walked away from the great pit he and other defective things were thrown into. He soon realizes that it is a different place - the many festive trees each covering a gaudy present under them prove as much. Match turns and looks back the way he came, taking in the sight of the present with his name on it. “Ah.” He turns back and scans the trees for anything odd, for any trace of one of the others, first among them Nikolaos. To the young wooden automaton, his surroundings are as fantastical and as strange as many other sights he has seen since he first woke up, this liminal space no more confusing than the first time he stepped into a city. The fact that he seemingly just stepped out of a present with his name on it into a space containing a hundred hundred other presents, all most likely housed in a great magical, sentient outer present makes as much sense to him as many other things. Match spots the glint of something metal and shining floating a meter or so above the ground, somewhere behind a nearby tree. He moves forward towards it, and feels joy when he recognizes the sound of the bell. “Provvy! Hello.” He comes to a full stop in front of the floating bell, and raises his hand in greeting. “It is good to see you. Do you need help? I am trying to find Nikolaos or one of the others. Nikolaos asked me to find him. Can you help me? Do you know where Nikolaos is or how I can get to him?” Match pauses, looks at Provvy, and thinks. I wonder why Provvy and Nikolaos are not together. Maybe they have split up to search better for me and Haar? I think Provvy and Nikolaos can talk to each other even when they are away from each other. I think Provvy can warn Nikolaos when bad things are coming. Provvy can warn us too by ringing the bell. I hope Provvy or Nikolaos did not get lost… “Do you want to search for Nikolaos together, Provvy? I think we should all leave together from here, and then get back to running away together so everyone is safe.” Match wonders whether he would understand Provvy’s answer, if there is any. He had not talked with Nikolaos’ companion very often yet. Match considers for a moment, then looks up into the sky. “First Gift, can you please help us find Nikolaos? Provvy is Nikolaos’…” He hesitates. “Provy and Nikolaos often work together. It will be good if they can help everyone together.” He waits for a moment. "If Nikolaos and Provvy are here, then maybe Haar is here too. I think we should all meet. I think they all want to do important things on the outside, like I want to learn about the world on the outside. Can you... do you want to tell if that makes you feel bad? I have observed that sometimes people feel bad if others leave them. But... we have to leave because we want to help people on the outside." quote:nil (Match) Request: [3d6k2] Roll: [6, 4, 1] Result: 10 Reason: Speak Softly With the First Gift (Hope from following Nikolaos' command) nil. fucked around with this message at 18:01 on Mar 8, 2024 |
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Mar 5, 2024 20:48
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Haar, Itinerant - The Remnant Haar takes one last look at the cruel forgeries of those she once knew, and will always love. It's a look of pity- focused not on her people, but on the First Gift itself. Nothing here was real - and no amount of wishing would ever make it so. A cruel existence, even when compared to her own morose curse. She turns on her heels, cloak whipping around her, and sets off in a random direction. The spectre is immediately aware of the dull pain that assaults her leg with every step- remnants of the candy cane stabbed through by Him. Here, it serves as a boon, for it is a clear reminder that she is Haar, Itinerant, and that she has work to do. The forest around Haar, dark and tendrilled, has started to blur. Where before she could make out individual foliage, her surroundings now feel like a muddy wash of viridian. The smells and sounds of the forest have dissipated. Her mind starts to anchor itself back in reality, as she thinks of what occurred before she was trapped by the First Gift. Her and her allies, running for their lives, His soldiers hot on their heels. Haar clutches her cloak with a single gnarled claw, wondering how much time she had wasted in this nightmare. The others...might it be too late for them? The guilt stabs at her. And what of Match? She grips the doll of the automaton in her right hand, concerned that he is trapped within here, just like her. Has he uncovered the same truths, or succumbed... Haar shakes her skull, dusting such thoughts away. It's a waste of time. All she can do is focus on her own escape- the fate of the others would become clear with time. Skeletome fucked around with this message at 22:42 on Mar 10, 2024 |
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Mar 10, 2024 21:29
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Agios Nikolaos "the Wonderworker", the HarbingerInfinite Oregano posted:Nikolaos Nikolaos sighs at his misfortune. He was hoping a person would be freed from the trappings gift if he opened it, rather than getting sucked in himself. Nevertheless, he is here now and intends to make the best of it. The situation within this gift feels... Urgent and tense, somehow, rather than the moody creepiness that engulfed him so far. A welcome change of pace, if anything. But first, he thinks of Provvy, and whispers a message to his fellow Gift-Bringer: "Don't open the boxes at random, they will trap you. I will look for Francesca, and an exit. If you see the others, warn them not to open the gifts until I am back." He hopes the wind carries his message to Provvy more or less intact. Then, Nikolaos approaches the edge of the tower and peers into the depths below. The hubbub is too distant to make much sense of it. Closer to him, the pad draws his attention with the gentle dimming and brightening of its spotlights. It's mesmerizing, but also attention-grabbing, as if to direct a pilot inbound for landing. "Interesting," he mutters to himself. Looking at its size, Nikolaos doubts this is a landing pad for Santa Claus' sled. Too short, unless arresting gear is hidden somewhere on the towertop to catch the sled on its descent. In any event, Nikolaos isn't going to stick around to find out. He walks around the tower's roof, inspecting the arcano-mechanical structures until he finds one with a door, and opens it. Inside, there is a staircase; not a spiral staircase as one would expect in a tower, but a series of straight stairs with connecting platforms at each level, leading to floors with strange spatial designs. Whoever built this tower created entire levels of open floor plans, apparently in an effort to increase transparency, and then divided these floors with chest-high walls, as if he'd changed his mind halfway but could not fully commit to dividing the floorspace into separate rooms. Most peculiar, Nikolaos thinks to himself. Who is this Francesca person, and why do their deepest desires reflect... such a mundane dreamscape? Nikolaos further explores the cubicles, examining the arcano-mechanical devices on the desks. Some of them are whirring.
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Mar 11, 2024 23:30
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Bellia Breakstar, The Kimera(Orc) Infinite Oregano posted:
Bellia scarcely has time to roll off of her back before the soldiers arrive, quickly putting her in their sights as they shout demands at her. "I'll do no such thing," she growls, springing forward at them on grasshopper legs as she swings her window axe with full force. It shatters against the helmet and mask of the nearest soldier, the living being underneath dropping to the ground along with the broken items and laying still just like them. quote:Attempting to Finish Them by killing, breaking a weapon to use Dishonor Before Death.
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Mar 14, 2024 02:56
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Match As the chilly atmosphere embraces you, you become aware that trying to converse with the First Gift is difficult at best - but not impossible. When it deigns to it does not seem to communicate directly, but you manage to convince it to show something, although these manifestations seem to occur so subtly that you could easily have mistaken that these happened purely coincidentally to your inquiries. There is a moment of stillness as the twinkling lights and festive dressings sit amidst what initially seems to be a place with no wind, nor fire, perhaps even the snow is not true snow, and you do not know what lies beneath it - it might be earth, or it might be snow and ice going down forever. Regardless, after the stillness you notice something a shifting of the branches of one of the trees: Your vision is drawn to it, although there are several gifts beneath it - most of them look old, dusty, and faded - one stands out as being pristine and new, and has the name "Francesca" on its tag, moreover there is a snag of cloth hanging off of the branch directly above it - this piece of cloth looks distinctively like the material of what Nikolaos wears. As your eyes cast around you also notice another thing - although this is much less likely to be the work of the Gift, it is much too vulgar - you notice another very distinctive gift, more so than the others. Under a different tree, naturally, but it is heavily wrapped in iron chains, and leaking out from a corner of the box that appears to have been torn, trails out a thread of mystical energy that ends with a dramatic looking rift in space (if there is indeed true space within the Gift), a jagged looking hole leading somewhere else, the box is labelled "Nikolaos". It would seem that Nikolaos was originally here but managed to extricate himself in a much more violent means than what you used, although given unlike any of the other gifts that you can see (including your own), it would seem that his was locked and barred - perhaps even if he had broken the figurative chains that would bind someone to these gifts, more literal ones were laid for one reason or another to ensnare him. It seems initially helpful, and as your thoughts skitter through your mind you realise that it is indeed helping you - in fact as you mention leaving you notice that there is a shift in the outer environment generally away from you in all directions as though the trees begin to part subtly - it is very willing to let you leave. But you also realise that it is showing resistance in certain ways, which although are initially subtle - you get the impressive that the magnitude of this resistance could grow dramatically, the chief resistance it seems to manifest is against any indication that you wish to find the 'core' of its being, luckily this topic does not readily surface so it is not particularly on guard for now. As for what it wants, it is readily opaque - but it seems given the arrangement of gifts, both old and new, and the subtle cues it gives off in response to your conversation and intentions, it would seem that (at present) it does not readily have any intentions towards you in particular, but it would seemingly want to (at least for the moment) keep doing its job. As to why you cannot say, but it would seem, given all the gifts that were once prisons for some, and the gifts that are still prisons for others. Given how the First Gift acted when you first opened it, and seemingly the nature of the prison-universe that you were entangled in, and other such hints - it wishes to keep on 'collecting' people. At this point there is a shift and the quiet sound of a pop as a gift opens under another tree a short distance away that you had not had the chance to fully examine yet, and lo and behold, Haar has returned to you! By now Provvy is hovering near the Francesca's gift, and is jingling with a tone that mixes caution and concern, however when Haar arrives, they turn about to face her (you think) and jingle in greetings. Haar The Match-doll still grasped tightly in one of your hands, you leave, the last remnants of detail and focus upon this false reality finally abandoned all together as the world around you seems to reknit itself into something else. Still fantastical but unfamiliar. A snowy, peaceful scene - a forest of festively bedecked trees, glowing with lights and ornaments, and beautifully wrapped gifts underneath them, as if they were ready for the big day. The most fantastical element of this scene is notably the sky is ablaze with one grandiose aurora. Perhaps even the sky itself is just one giant aurora? Any contemplations of the strangeness of the sky in this otherworldy space is interrupted by a jingling sound, causing you to look and notice that a short distance away are Provvy and Match, the former hovering near a tree and seemingly the source of the jingling, the latter examining said tree. Although interestingly enough, Provvy is here, but Nikolaos is not. Nikolaos You head down into the structure, but given the inspections that you have made thus far, you do manage to yield some insights... in fact it then strikes you, the resemblance is uncanny - because this is (at least partially) a representation of past events. This tower is more than likely vaguely what the Clan MacLane's ancestral home (Middleminster Tower) looked like before or more than likely during the legendary events that transpired and caused the creation of the Clan MacLane... which would more than likely make this Francesca... Francesca MacLane, heir to the Clan MacLane. That would explain the relative mundanity of this fantasy. As you turn a corner down these strange stairwells leading down you come into a floor of this structure that seems more skeletal than anything else, very open but draped in loose materials in places, the look of unfinished workings, and a number of tools and a large workbench set up. This section of the building appears to be unfinished. You hear what sounds like the clipped end of a conversation, too muffled by distance to get any information, but the sound draws you to a section of this floor. There is palpable tension in the air as a young woman peers throw windows down on to the plaza far below arcano-mechanical spotlights lighting up the room (and presumably the building in general), clutching an arcano-mechanical equivalent to a firearm in one hand and some kind of arcano-mechanical device of no immediately apparent use in the other - however given that you heard conversation coming from here, and she is holding it relatively close to her face it might well be a communications device. She is stained with sweat, dirt, and blood, dressed only partially as though forced into action while changing clothes - wearing a vest and trousers, and for some reason barefoot. Hearing your approach, she spins around and points the gun-like weapon at you, a cigarette is perched in the corner of her mouth, before she speaks. "Woah there buddy, what is this?" she speaks in a harsh yet hushed voice, as though not wanting to be overheard. Her immediate response seems to shift a little as she seems to notice your appearance - which presumably is not in keeping with this present scenario. quote:Francesca MacLane: A hero who is convinced she will save the world. Bellia You strike hard and fast, shattering your axe in the process but dealing grievous blows that fell a large number from this squad of soldiers, leaving blood on the snow, their arms and armour not nearly enough to stop your ferocity. Now only two remain standing, although shown the fate of those that oppose you - their loyalty to their overlord perhaps is not in their favour in this instance, but nonetheless the one near the rear fires off a shot from their gun - the toylike firearm making a much less toylike sound as the loud bang rings out, the other remaining soldier having circled around during the previous melee charges at you with their gleaming sabre as though they were using the gunshot like a starting pistol. quote:Basic Soldier: A loyal minion of Santa. quote:Basic Soldier: A loyal minion of Santa. Everyone What do you do?
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Mar 16, 2024 13:42
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Haar, Itinerant - The Remnant As the false dream washes away, Haar presses on hurriedly. Each step takes her further from the cruel facade of her previous life, and hopefully brings her nearer to the truth. If her own mind could create such a tempting dream from her deepest desires, then she needs to her focus to stay stalwart on what matters. The snow crunches rhythmically under her claws. It takes the icy lick of snowflakes on her skull for Haar to notice her new surroundings. The gnarled trees and hollow forest of her nightmares have been born anew as a homely woodland. Bright, homely lights cuddle branches, enticingly lightning up the most beautifully wrapped gifts. The sky itself seemed to be the most wonderful, impossible aurora. Haar stops in her tracks, panting softly. A jingling rings through the air- which she had come to know as Provvy's method of salutation. Next to the bell, close to a pile of gifts, is Match. She eyes the two warily, clutching the doll in her hand. Were they real? Or another simulation of what she really desired? Rites above, it had felt so good to be Haar, Woodspeaker again...to live, just for a moment...she couldn't bear to have the truth ripped from her grasp a second time. The spectre snarls in distrust, bringing the Match-doll tightly to her chest- as if protecting it, as she keeps her distance from Provvy and Match. "Are you...real?" She growls with a low-timbred caution, preparing for the slightest movement between the bell and the automaton. "Prove yourselves to me!"
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Mar 17, 2024 17:27
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Match looks back down from the luminous sky at Provvy, realizing he may need to explain why he addressed seemingly nobody. “I was talking with the First Gift. I think it is able to hear me. I have asked the First Gift to let me leave the world it made for me and to not make the people it made in that world disappear. The First Gift did those things after I asked for them. I said ‘thank you’ to the First Gift. I think the First Gift may also help us find Nikolaos and the others.” There is no immediate answer forthcoming from Provvy, at least none that Match can understand. The metal giftbringer floats in the air and occasional gusts of cold, but not freezing, wind blow fine snowflakes onto the two strange companions, coming to a stop to rest of metal and wood. Provvy gently sways back and forth, eliciting sporadic, soft ringing of its bell. As the two wait, the dark of night, the snow covered festive trees with colorful gifts beneath them and the aurora far above envelops Match in a mixture of peacefulness and strangeness – a strangeness that does not cause fear, but rather gentle curiosity. The wooden automaton’s gaze wanders across the sky, and for a minute or more he is lost in the silent spectacle. Match looks down and tries to guess at how many trees there are, and how many gifts lie under them. As he watches the branch of a tree, there is another gentle gust of wind, and the branch moves just so, reminding Match of the wide-armed gesture of a circus announcer he had had seen from afar in a village, pulling the audience’s attention towards the next show. Match follows the branch’s arc – and, beneath the tree, spots a gift that stands out from among its fellows. It is bright, new, and has the name ‘Francesca’ on its tag. Match inclines his head. When the tree once again rustles in the wind, he willingly follows where it seems someone wants to guide his gaze, because he is sure that this is the First Gift answering his questions. “Ah.” He points towards the piece of cloth that no doubt belongs to Nikolaos close to the gift labeled ‘Francesca’. “Provvy, the First Gift has shown me something. I think that is maybe where Nikolaos is.” Match wonders why he knows where the First Gift wants him to look, when so often he finds it difficult to understand things said not with words but small and subtle gestures. For now, he assumes it is perhaps something he just knows, like how to talk or tell if someone is sad or happy. He lets his gaze wander, and is soon rewarded as he spots the chained-up gift labeled ‘Nikolaos’, the hole in the gift, and the floating trail of color coming to an end at some sort of rift quite out of place in the peaceful surroundings, looking as if reality was a piece of paper that had been crumpled up. Match considers what he sees for a few moments – as well as the impression he gets regarding what the Fist Gift wants, and what it wants to keep away from Match and anyone else. “Thank you, First Gift. I think I understand.” “Provvy, I think-“ There is the sudden sound of footsteps and someone panting. Match turns on the spot, arms stiff at his side. When he spots who has made the sound, he reflexively raises his arms slightly, and his voice is one of muted happiness. “Haar! Hello! It is good to see you. Are you-“ Match halts as Haar snarls at him, though he can tell that is not out of anger, at least not entirely. The automaton inclines his head, trying to see what it is Haar is holding closely to her chest, though a moment later her words make him look up at Haar in confusion. Match is lost for words and looks at Haar, quizzically. After several moments, he slowly holds up his right hand and stares at it, as if trying to determine whether it is indeed real. A few seconds pass. Match then gingerly pokes his held out right hand with the index finger of his left hand. He inclines his head. “I do not think I understand, Haar. Can you explain what you mean?” Match watches Haar, waiting for an answer - and finds himself wanting to approach her and try to somehow help his companion, as he can see, feel that she is upset, sad, and angry. Match reminds himself that even though he may want to help Haar, he does not actually know how to, as he had learned before- And so he keeps his distance and wonders what Haar may have meant by ‘proving they are real’. “Ah!” Match’s expression brightens as a realization comes to him. Haar is asking me if I am real. Haar is asking me to prove I am real. That I could not be real is upsetting her. Nikolaos told me a little bit about ‘religion’ and ‘philosophy’. It was very interesting, but also very confusing. I think maybe Haar’s question is not a… question from religion or philosophy. Oh. Yes. I remember now. I also asked the First Gift if the people it made for me in my world were ‘real’ or just people in my thoughts. I think that is maybe what Haar means. It is good that I remembered. I do not think I would have understood otherwise. “I think I maybe understand, Haar.” Match lowers his hands again. “The First Gift made a world for me. I think it made a world for me where I could be happy. There were people in that world too. I asked the First Gift if the people it made for me were….real, or if they were just in my thoughts and would… disappear when I… woke up, like from a dream. Nikolaos explained to me that people in dreams are not real and that it is not bad if they disappear.” He tries once again to see what that small wooden thing is that Haar is holding so tightly in her hand. “Do you mean that I am not ‘real’ like a person in your dreams? Or do you mean that I am not 'real' because I am a person the First Gift made for your world?” Match ponders just how to prove that he is real to Haar in either of these cases. After several moments of nothing coming to his mind, he puts his hand over his chin, as he has seen other people deep in thought do, but it shows no effect. He withdraws the hand. “Can you tell me if the First Gift made a world that tried to make you happy? If all the people that the Fist Gift made for you are meant to make you happy, I could…” Match avoids Haar’s gaze and looks at the ground. “... try to make you unhappy or sad.” His shoulders slump. “I have made you sad before.” He looks up, determined. “But a person made to make you happy would not do that. Do you think so too? So that would mean that I am real. But… I would have to make you sad. What should I do, Haar?” nil. fucked around with this message at 15:33 on Mar 19, 2024 |
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Mar 18, 2024 15:29
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Bellia Breakstar, The Kimera(Orc) Infinite Oregano posted:
Bellia flows through and crashes into the soldiers like water, shifting and striking in optimal positions thanks to years of training and well-honed instinct. Despite the killing field she's rapidly created, the remaining two insist on continuing the fight. Their attempt at combining long range and melee attacks does force Bellia to slow her assault momentarily to defend herself, but their efforts still aren't enough to actually damage her. "If you're that eager to fight and die, who am I to deny you?" she asks gleefully, already turning scattered bits of armor into punching daggers. quote:Agent Rush(Bellia) Request: [2d6+2] Roll: [5, 5] Result: 12 Overcoming Soldiers attack
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Mar 21, 2024 01:49
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Haar, Itinerant - The Remnant Haar continues to keep her distance, scrutinising Match's every word and action, ready to strike out at the slightest provocation. It was bizarre that only Match and Provvy were here.If the First Gift was creating another one of her desires, would it not create all of her allies in one place? She listens carefully as Match explains that he was trapped within a world as well. Despite his matter-of-fact tone, Haar feels that there is something wistful in the way he describes what happened. What would a world designed for Match's desires look like? For the first time, Haar curses that she has not learnt more about her allies. Match's gaze seems to be drawn to the doll clutched in Haar's hand. She turns her body to the side, defensively, ensuring the doll is shielded in her grip. The doll was the catalyst for her escaping the First Gift's nightmare, and she could not lose what anchored her to reality. "I...I need to know that you were not created by whatever malignant force entraps us here." Haar explains cautiously. She is conscious of the way her voice growls, the deep, almost guttural fry in her words. After the elation of being Haar, Woodspeaker, again, it would take some time to get used to all the minutiae of her monstrous form. As Match finishes his proposal, Haar finds herself nodding. The logic was sound. The way he reasoned every word seemed very Match...but was it just inkeeping with how she remembered the automaton? She cleared her throat awkwardly. "The world I found myself in was wonderful...but a lie. I was inches from having everything I could ever want, but it was torn from my grasp. When I became aware of the facade..." Haar stops. How can she explain something so morose to someone so new to life? Here she is, considering her words, treating this Match as if he were the real one. "...I made it sad." She continues, throat tightening. "I washed myself in morosity because that is my desire. If you did the same, that could just be the First Gift giving more of what I want." "Tell me about your dream, automaton." She offered, tilting her skull to one side. "What wish did this entrapper grant you...and how did you get escape from its fetters?" Surely, if this was the real Match, and not just a creation of her own mind, he would have a very different dream to the one she envisioned for him...?
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Mar 24, 2024 13:40
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Match listens, and when Haar has finished, the wooden automaton tilts his head to one side - a mirror of the troubled revenant opposite of him. Someone more suspicious may think the fact that Haar seemingly mimics Match’s most common expression of inquisitiveness may indicate that it is Haar and not Match that is the shadow conjured from memories, meant to keep the other prisoner of the First Gift, but Match entertains no such thoughts. He tries to understand all that Match has told him but soon realizes, like many times before, he does truly know what his companions true thoughts are. Haar is telling me that she wanted to be sad and that is why the First Gift made her world sad. So if I make her sad, it does not prove that I am not a person made by the First Gift for her. But… If I cannot prove I am ‘real’ by making her happy or sad, then I am not sure what I can do. Oh. I could try to bore Haar. Trying to be boring usually takes a lot of time. Nikolaos asked me to find him and may need help. Bellia and ELF are either also inside the Fist Gift and might need help, or are outside the First Gift and the people we were running away from are still chasing them. I think I do not have enough time to try to bore Haar. I am not sure I understand why Haar wanted to be sad more than she wanted to be happy, so that the First Gift made her world sad. I am not sure if it is true. But there are many things I do not understand about Haar. Haar probably understands Haar better than I do. I should do what Haar asked me to do to convince her I am ‘real’. Match nods. “Understood, Haar. I will tell you. I hope I can convince you that I am ‘real’.” The wooden automaton hesitates for a moment, and feels his thought pulled towards Nikolaos and the First Gift and how they might fare at this moment. “If I cannot convince you, I want to tell you things I have learned first.” Match turns on the spot and points towards the chained-up gift, the trail of magic energy and the fold in space near it. “I think this is where Nikolaos came into the Fist Gift. I think it also may be the way out. That is Nikolaos’ gift. I think he was inside, and then broke out. I think he currently is in this gift with the tag ‘Francesca’.” Match inclines his head, briefly looking at the gift in puzzlement. “I am not sure why Nikolaos is in a gift for ‘Francesca’.” He turns back to face Haar and, for a moment, hesitates. “The Fist Gift showed me these things when I asked it to help me find Nikolaos. I think…” Match lowers his head, wondering whether what he just said made Haar angry. “...that the First Gift is not bad. I think it was created to make people’s wishes come true in a dream world. I think it is following the instructions that its creator gave it. I think maybe we can explain to the First Gift which things it is doing are bad, so it knows not to do them anymore.” Match looks dejected and unconvinced at his own words for a moment. “The First Gift helped me when I asked for it. The First Gift let me go out of my dream world when I asked for it.” He is silent for a second. "If you want, you could also talk with the First Gift. I don't think it talks with words, but I think it can understand us." Match looks up, standing ramrod straight again. “I am sorry, Haar. I wanted to say these things first. I will now tell you about my dream world.” Match lets a few seconds pass, not to build suspense, but to allow his companion to ask any questions she might have. “In my dream world I was a student in a village. I was learning about a lot of things. They were things other people also learn about at school. I did not need to learn about ‘normal’ things that people of flesh and blood all know, because I understood them. I knew how to run properly, and how to tell a joke, and how to cook, and when it was the right time to laugh or cry or clap or hug another person. The other students liked me. There was another person made of wood that I was helping learn things about the world, because I knew a lot. His name was Ring. I was there to answer questions for him and make sure he was not confused or alone.” A snowflake touches Match’s brow, slowly melts, and runs down his face. “The people at my school were good people. The people in the village were good people. The people in the town helped each other, and also helped others that came to visit the town. And… I helped to help. I knew what to do. I was learning a lot of things, but I was never confused.” The automaton considers the thing he already knows he wants to say next, and what it means - though this, too, he realizes, he already knows. “I had good friends. I think… I think they were you and the others, Haar. They had different names, but they were you. You were the Warden, Haar. You kept the village safe by scaring away anyone that came through the woods that wanted to do bad things. You were scary, but I knew it was only so you could keep everyone safe.” Match’s shoulders and head slump forward. “I think the world was made very well. I do not know why, but I remembered that I had forgotten something very important. I could not forget it. I tried very hard to remember, and then I did. It was scary. There were…” Match moves his head from side to side. “...different thoughts and memories in my head that did not fit. But then I understood where I was.” He looks up, directly at Haar. “I told the First Gift I wanted to leave. The First Gift showed me how to leave. I… then I realized that all the people in my dream world might disappear if I leave, so I asked the First Gift to not make them disappear. The First Gift did what I asked. I am not sure I did the right thing, but there was nobody I could ask for advice.” Match puts his hands together in front of his belly, rubbing a wooden thumb over the other hand’s fingers. “Do you think I did the right thing, Haar?” nil. fucked around with this message at 19:36 on Mar 24, 2024 |
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Mar 24, 2024 19:34
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Haar, Itinerant - The Remnant Haar surveys the locked gift, the trail of magic and the tear of space in turn, as Match explains what he knows so far. The name 'Francesca' comes up short in her mind- perhaps someone close to Nikolaos? Again, Haar curses that she knows so little about her allies. She stares daggers at the automaton as he talks about the First Gift. It trapped Haar here, made her believe she was whole again, surrounded by a loving community. It made her believe that...she was back. And then it had shredded her dreams, ripped each hope asunder, and left her alone, in her own misery, once again. "I have already spoken with our entrapper," Haar snarls with a hint of disdain. "And have made it clear what I intend to do to them." She gestures widely to the forest around them with a single hand, the other still gripped tightly around the Match doll. "This, automaton, is just a fetter, designed to torment and keep us in place." The revenant listens to Match's story carefully, feeling herself scrutinising each word to ascertain if this was reality. She catches herself part-way through. She knew little of her allies- and yet here was a chance to potentially learn. Her poise softens as Match continues, talking of the school, of Ring, of her role as the Warden. A small village, where the people helped each other out? Where the children were taught by their elders? It all sounded so much like her own home... This Match had to be real, because she would never have considered protecting the people of her dream in such a way. As Match asks his question of her, Haar runs a clawed hand against her braid. This is all a lie. The First Gift's intention is to keep them here, and it conjures illusions to do so. The people in Match's dream were no more conjured memories from Haar's. It was folly to try and help them, or improve their stock. No doubt, when Match left his world (and she feels fairly certain that this Match did indeed exist), then those people within the gift ceased to exist. She cannot say that to him. Her dream was false, granted, but it had felt so real. Haar cannot wrench Match's community from him just because the same had happened to her. Haar nods, choosing her words carefully. "I...think that were I in your position...that is...You have now entrusted yourself to protect these people, Match. When we leave, this gift...it will be tangible... something we can hold. Within, this village, this school...life will continue on." She takes careful, deliberate steps towards the automaton, her stance open. Haar loosely clutches the doll, less concerned about its security, now that she knows Match is real. "In our journey to find Him, this gift will most likely face danger. I would advise that you think of a secure place to keep it. We should not keep it with us for too long, no?"
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Mar 27, 2024 12:02
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Match nods, as he has seen others do when acknowledging what another has said. “Thank you, Haar. If the people in my world were ‘real’ people, it is important to me that they should not be thrown away because they cannot do the work they were created to do.” A gentle gust of wind blows a bit of snow from a nearby tree. It falls to the ground, almost silently. “I was thrown away because I could not do the work I was created to do.” “I will think about how to keep the First Gift safe once we are outside the First Gift again. I think it would be a good idea to ask the others for ideas. I do not understand a lot of things. The others know a lot of things.” Match briefly turns his head to look at where the gift labeled ‘Francesca’ lies. “I will ask Nikolaos. He knows many things. He has told me that he has worked with gifts a lot too. Maybe he has a good idea for how to keep the First Gift safe too.” Match once again faces Haar, and the tiniest trace of something pleading sneaks into his voice. “I think we should find Nikolaos soon. I do not know why he is in the gift that is not for him. I do not know how to help him get out of the gift without going into the gift.” The automaton stops himself and concentrates on Haar, and what she might think, what she might feel. The automaton tilts his head. “I am not sure if I have convinced you that I am ‘real’, Haar. You did not say so. But… I hope I did.” Match looks at Haar, and how she has approached him, far less guarded than before. “I have observed that when people talk with each other, there are often things that they do not say with words but that both understand. I have observed that this happens more often when it is about how people feel, about themselves and about each other.” He considers. “I want to be able to understand this better. The world the First Gift made for me made me think I understood things like that, but… now I think I don’t. But I will try.” Match steps towards Haar, trying to gauge whether his ever-cautious companion is comfortable with his approach. “I think I have convinced you that I am ‘real’.” He wonders whether he should stop here - but decides to press on. “I think you are sad and angry. I am sorry. I think you are angry at the First Gift because it tried to trick you with happiness. I told the First Gift that many people get angry when they are tricked. I think you are right. The First Gift was made to keep people here. I am not sure if the First Gift was made to hurt people.” Match steps closer to Haar, now only an arm’s length away from her. “The world the First Gift made for me made me think that I understood many things I would like to understand. I want to understand how to make sad people less sad. I understood how to do this in the world the First Gift made for me. I do not know if I understand it outside the world the First Gift made for me. I would like to try to make you less sad. I hope it does not make you more sad or angry.” A few silent seconds pass before he moves again. Match opens his arms wide, holding them out. “Do you want a hug, Haar?” nil. fucked around with this message at 15:33 on Mar 29, 2024 |
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Mar 28, 2024 18:53
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Bellia The bullet flies clear and embeds itself in a nearby tree, at the same time that you manage to deflect or otherwise repel the assault of the soldier using swordplay against you. You manage to get clear enough from either of your attackers to get yourself a moment of reprieve, and the opportunity to act. Your ingenuity and industriousness resounds as you managed to simultaneously assemble another ugly, ugly weapon. Ugly, yet effective. But time is ticking, but you have the chance to act still, amidst the snow and trees - the two remaining soldiers amidst repositioning themselves to better face you once more. Still no sign of that mysterious sharpshooter, though.... Even amidst the danger of facing the minions of Santa, your mind flickers back to a similar time in the past. Tell us of a battle that you once fought against the minions of Santa? Also, What do you do?
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Mar 28, 2024 22:38
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Agios Nikolaos "the Wonderworker", the HarbingerInfinite Oregano posted:Nikolaos Nikolaos raises his hands, the universal gesture of peace, as soon as the gun-like instrument is aimed at him. "My apologies, my lady, I did not wish to startle you," he says, his gaze flicking from her gun to her eyes and back. "I do not know who your foes are, but I assure you I am not one of them. I am but a wanderer who has strayed from his course." When the woman seems to relax for an instant, Nikolaos takes in the environment and recalls the history of Clan MacLane, putting two and two together. If this is Clan MacLane's scion, Francesca MacLane, then this Gift's realm must be hers as indicated on the label. "Pardon my intrusion. What I will tell you may come as a shock, but I assure you I am very real. My name is Nikolaos, and I am what people would call a "Gift Bringer". I understand you are Madam Francesca MacLane. This place," Nikolaos gestures vaguely at the construction site around them, as a piece of plastic sheeting flips in the wind behind him, "is your dream. A manifestation of your deepest wishes. But it is not a real "place" in the sense that you and I are used to; it is a plane of existence not unlike a reverie. A daydream, if you will. I, myself, was trapped in my own, but escaped recently. There are many others, like you and I, caught in this dreamlike state. As a matter of fact, I am looking for a few companions of mine, when I came across your realm. I would, ah, very much like to leave at the earliest convenience. Could you help me find a way out of this wish of yours? You may leave it with me, if you'd like." Nikolaos knows the history of the MacLane clan, and has heard rumours of Francesca, though he has never met her personally. He hopes an appeal to her savior complex will win her to his side. But her mere presence here worries Nikolaos more than the fact that she is holding him at gunpoint. What manner of great houses, what prominent dynasties are within Santa's grasp... Is he taking hostages? But the realisation also offers some comfort. If Santa feels the need to control the powerful clans, rather than destroy or replace them outright, then perhaps he feels less than confident about his ability to conquer the world without co-opting its ruling classes for his terrible designs. Perhaps they can be united and rallied against him, in time. Nikolaos realises he's still holding his hands up, and carefully lowers them, hoping Francesca will lower her gun in turn. Deltasquid fucked around with this message at 22:54 on Apr 4, 2024 |
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Mar 30, 2024 23:53
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Bellia Breakstar, The Kimera(Orc) Infinite Oregano posted:Bellia Address what's in front of you first is a common maxim among Kimera, and Bellia has certainly taken it to heart as she faces the leftover soldiers. The sniper has yet to make a move since their arrival, and as such is less of a concern for the moment. quote:Bellia is no stranger to combat, least of all against the forces of Santa. Indeed, shortly after earning her title she clashed with his standard soldiers, though in that battle she hadn't been alone. With Nova by her side the two of them decimated the enemy in short order, Bellia rapidly turning the dead and defeated's gear into more weapons to sustain her rampage. "The next time you think to challenge a Breakstar, consider that you take your life in your hands!" she shouted at the retreating forces, standing firm until they had disappeared from view only to collapse in place beside Nova. It only took her a minute to recover and move on, but had she hit her limit any sooner she might not be here today. Of course, this is all woolgathering. Idle thoughts at the back of Bellia's mind as she punches through a soldier's armor, her ramshackle daggers shattering in the joints from the force of her blows. Address what's in front of you first. quote:Agent Rush(Bellia) Request: [2d6+2] Roll: [4, 3] Result: 9 Reason:Finish Them with Blood
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Apr 1, 2024 19:36
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Haar, Itinerant - The Remnant Haar is taken aback by the automaton. Had she still had eyelids, she would have blinked rapidly, stunned. Instead, her glowing eyes seem to dim, the closest approximation she can make to softening her expression. 'I was thrown away because I could not do the work I was created to do.' She had never asked Match about his history. Here, the way he so straightforwardly lays out something that must have caused him hurt makes Haar's heart skip one of its irregular beats. Match had lost his purpose - how much did that mean to someone like him, who seemed to have nothing else? When Match stretches his arms wide, she nearly drops the doll replica in surprise. Despite his newness to the world, the automaton is shockingly perceptive. His words cut deep through the spectre, and she finds herself unsure of what to say, regarding him from above in contemplation. Though long gone, she cannot help but think: What would Haar, Woodspeaker do? Haar stoops low, raiment still covering her bent form. Shakily, her long arms outstretch, pulling Match in for an embrace. The automaton feels tiny against her lanky, skeletal frame. Her skull looms over his shoulder, and her voice sounds brittle, as if it were about to shatter into a thousand, sorrowful pieces. "He took everything from me." She chokes out bitterly. "My body...my family...Her...I saw it all as it once had been." Usually, Haar is careful about how she speaks to Match. Sometimes, unclear statements bring a myriad of questions, or risk a misunderstanding. Presently, her words feel like they are spilling out - feelings that she has never told another soul- for who could a ghost tell? "I don't even know how long it's been." Haar continues, her voice like a funeral dirge. "Tens upon tens upon tens? To have that all back, after I'd given up hope...only to have it WRENCHED from me..." She snarls the last words, a guttural anger ringing out, as icy reality reminds her that she is not Haar, Woodspeaker. Her grip tightens on Match, harshly pulling him into her bony arms. She wants nothing more than to lash out- to hurt something- anything - to make someone else feel the way she does. Darkness clouds Haar's mind. Where before empathy stood, a resentful jealousy has taken its place. What had Match lost, really? Purpose? He has his whole life ahead of him. He can find a new purpose. The world is his to partake in. He has everything to gain. Not like her. She'd had it all- reduced to dust. Haar's grip on the automaton tightens even further- a vicelike threat. Skeletome fucked around with this message at 16:45 on Apr 2, 2024 |
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Apr 2, 2024 12:27
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Nikolaos Francesca stares at you for a moment, her expression not conveying understanding. Perhaps she doesn't believe you? If you were trapped in some kind of dream world that caters to your own desires, it is unlikely that whoever this centred around would naturally question this, after all. There is a pause, as her expression is unmoving while the ambient sounds still ring out, sweat falling off of her brow as the commotion from the group below coordinates with the sweeping arcano-mechanical searchlights that periodically light up the room before plunging it into gloom once more, revealing glinting things aplenty - but things born of chaos: Droplets of blood here and there, broken glass, torn metal from numerous places, miscellaneous implements and equipment that Francesca seemed to have acquired somehow. You feel your thoughts drift across the nature of the clans, or moreover the nature of what Santa intends to do if he has captured one of their number. However, nothing immediately springs to mind, but you do feel a few pieces of the puzzle start to link together nonetheless. Santa has been gathering forces, but it's never been clear where all of them come from - after all, that is not the natural predilection of the Gift Bringers. The First Gift seems intended to and fully capable of (yourself notwithstanding, of course) trapping people in perfect fantasies that erode their sense of reality over time. Maybe these things are linked somehow? "What do you mean? What are you talking about?" she inquires - breaking you out of your thoughts, however it sounds like she doesn't believe your claims - presumably from her perspective they would seem quite outlandish. It seems like she needs some convincing, but as you ponder this, you notice her body language getting more tense again as there are sounds heard down below - from inside the building. If you're going to make a stronger case for why she should believe you and moreover do what you say, it will probably have to be fast - this opportunity won't last forever. Then the dream's power will likely once again snatch away the attention of its dreamer, and danger will be present more than ever. What do you do? Bellia With another heavy strike, you fell another foe, the closest soldier to you. By this point, the remaining soldier does not seemingly feel the odds are with them any more, and makes a break for it into the trees as you grapple with the dying body of their last comrade. The loud noise of snow being driven back as they flee, heavily indicating their direction as they disappear into the snow-covered trees. The dawn's light starting to glint and glimmer throughout the frost and snow, and the blood and broken bodies that lie about you. A testament to your own capabilities. There is still no sign of the sharpshooter, however - which doesn't imply anything good. However, you are however temporarily free to act as you choose. What do you do?
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Apr 8, 2024 20:32
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Bellia Breakstar, The Kimera(Orc) Infinite Oregano posted:
At last, the final living soldier exercises the better part of valor and escapes Belia with their life. "Finally. Some people just never learn," she mutters to herself as she gathers some scrap and bangs it into a mace. The sharpshooter didn't see fit to intervene in her previous struggle with the soldiers, but to proceed without confirmation that they've actually retreated rather than simply repositioning and lying in wait risks both Belia if she attempted to return to the river and her allies in the Fellowship should they reach the obstacle. Now, where were we? she thinks as she scans the area, attempting to learn where her current elusive foe has gotten to now. quote:Agent Rush(Bellia) Request: [2d6+1] Roll: [4, 1] Result: 6 Reason: Look Closely
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Apr 11, 2024 02:39
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Haar's grip tightens until Match's wooden joints audibly creak, some of his limbs bending in ways only a marionette could without screaming out in pain. Match does not resist, and by the puzzled movement of his head it may seem as if he does not know he should. There is a crack. "Haar. I think I am being damaged. I think it is because you are hugging me too hard. I have observed that different people hug each other differently. A big person can hug another big person harder than a child." "I'll never see them again. Never hear their laughter..." Haar spits venomously, limbs constricting further and further. Her mind is barely aware of the shuddering of wood against her tensing bones, so consumed with morosity as she is. "Never be me..." "I am sorry, Haar. I am not sure how to help you with words. I hope the hug has helped you. I think we should stop hugging now. I will continue being damaged if we continue hugging. We should find Nikolaos before you damage me more. Nikolaos has tools to repair me." A moment passes. "Please stop hugging me now, Haar. I am sorry." The last words are the ones to finally snap Haar back into action. It is like icy water has been thrown over her, as she is acutely aware of her bones, how hard she is tensing, and the pressure they are putting on Match's frame. "I...I..." She stammers, voice softening, barely a whisper, as she hurriedly pulls back, standing tall and putting distance between the two of them. Her eyes dart to the Match doll clutched in her open palm- now partially damaged from her grip. I'm a monster. She thinks to herself with finality, needles of guilt prickling her skull. "...I am sorry, Match." Haar finally finishes, aghast. "I will help deliver you to the Giftbringer, and then leave your company." How could she stay with allies, knowing she was so capable of this? Match takes one step away from Haar and briefly moves both of his arms along with their jointed hands, inspecting whether they all are moving properly still. Then, he once again considers Haar with his head tilted to one side. "Please explain what you are sorry for, Haar. Please explain where you are leaving to. Are you going to be gone for a long time? I think it is better if we all stay together and work together. I think if we work together, we can help more people and keep more bad things from happening to people." A few moments pass. Match seems to think, and for a second he glances at the now-damaged doll in Haar's hands, so like him. "Did the hug help you be less sad, Haar? You sounded very upset during the hug. I do not understand all of what you told me. I understand that you lost people and that makes you sad. I think maybe the First Gift recreated those people to make you happy. I think maybe the people disappeared because they were not 'real' and that made you sad and angry again. ...Is that what you told me, Haar?" The wind blows a few snowflakes past the space between the two strange companions. It seems colder than before. "I hope the hug helped you be less sad, even though I think you were upset during it. I think you are also upset now. I have observed that sometimes, people are first sad, then upset, and then less sad after. If that is what is happening, please tell me how I can help. If I need to be damaged again, I would like to repair myself first." Match's head sways back and forth, as if he is unsure whether he should say what is on his mind. "I would like to... I think it is a good idea to find Nikolaos. After we have found Nikolaos and Bellia and we have run away together to be safe, do you want... want me to... try to teach you how to hug better? I think it is important not to damage the person you are hugging. I think it is especially important if the other person is made of flesh and blood, because they can be hurt easily. Some people made of flesh and blood can be hurt more easily than others." A single finger on match's hand twitches, as if struggling to overcome some inner instinct. "I think... you should... please... be careful." Match stands stiff, as if frozen or awkward, and then he continues, more rapidly. "I think we should ask Nikolaos or Bellia. I think they would know what to do better than me." Haar's response is clipped, her hands shaky as her body rises and falls in an approximation of deep breathing. It's taking every inch of her will to keep under control, to not slip further into self-destructive thought. As awful as she feels, having harmed Match, she knew that it would have been oh so easy to keep going. To squeeze and squeeze until his limbs cracked with great finality. That's what monsters like her do, after all. "We should stop talking about this. You waste effort on me." She responds glumly, unable to make eye contact with Match, feeling a mixture of guilt, shame and regret. "Finding the Giftbringer is our top priority- and with him, hopefully the rest of your allies in tow." Match looks at Haar as if trying to come to a decision. Finally, he stands up straight and speaks. "I understand, Haar. I will help finding Nikolaos. I think he is in the gift with the label 'Francesca'. I do not think we can shake the gift and make Nikolaos fall out. I do not know what would be the best way to get Nikolaos out of the gift." The automaton turns around, first looking at Provvy, then again at Haar. "I think we could ask the First Gift for help." He pauses, watching Haar. "It helped me leave my gift when I asked..." Haar is only half listening, mind still trying to calculate what had happened. She can feel her irregular heartbeat thumping in rapid cadence. "Yes... fine. That is your action to take." She opens her palm, extending it ever so slightly (so that Match is still not within touching distance), revealing the partially damaged Match doll in her claw. "I was only able to reveal the truth when this was placed in my pocket. If the gift can listen to reason, then you're best placed to ask for its help." Match stands still, looking at Haar. As so often, the wooden expression on his face, his mien, is hard to read. "I think..." He stops and is silent for several seconds. "I... I am..." Finally, he sinks his head and slumps his shoulders. "I will try, Haar." Though more often than not, the automata's voice is more neutral and even than not, there are hints of disappointment, confusion and hurt in it now. Match looks up into the night sky, into the aurora dancing across the black canvas above. "Hello, First Gift. I want to ask you for help again. I want to ask you to help Nikolaos leave the gift he is in or to help us help Nikolaos leave the gift he is in. I think Nikolaos wants to leave, like me." He stares into the sky. The voice he continues in does not sound unsure. "I want to find Nikolaos. I want to talk to Nikolaos. I think something happened that made me feel bad. I do not understand it. Maybe Nikolaos can explain it to me." Match stands up a little straighter. "Please help me again. I told you before that some people get angry if someone tricks them. I told you I was not angry. This is Haar. I think she is angry because she was tricked. Please help us find Nikolaos and then Haar can see that you are not bad." The wooden automata lowers his gaze, looking unsure whether his words had any effect. He briefly looks towards Haar, but averts his gaze, and instead focuses on Provvy, as if to ask whether what he is doing is the right thing to do. It is generally difficult to deduce Provvy's emotions, but not for a lack of trying on Provvy's part. The Gift Bringer flaps its little wings, and gives a solemn ring of its bell, before landing next to the gift labeled "Francesca". As far as clear messages go, this is one of the most straightforward ones; Provvy seems to agree to the plan. Whether you enter the gift, or find a way to rescue Nikolaos from outside of it, this is indeed the correct box, and the correct course of action as far as Provvy is concerned. quote:Match Request: [2d6] Roll: [5, 3] Result: 8 Reason: Talk Sense (Wisdom)
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Apr 11, 2024 17:16
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Bellia You try to ascertain the locale of the hidden sharpshooter that plagued you earlier and was the reason why you went ahead, crossing the frozen river, and ended up isolating yourself even more so. Advancing cautiously through the woods to better get a tell of your surroundings and also hopefully not be reacquired as a target by the sharpshooter before you can get close enough. This takes some time, and amidst the backdrop of the rising sounds of birdsong in the winter's dawn, the soft sound of crunching snow as you skulk towards where you believe your foe to be, starts to have a sense of peace seep into you - despite everything. Although it's not the best of times for it, your adrenaline has begun to slow as your breath crystallises upon the air. Without any other issues, you make your way to where you think the shot came from earlier, recalling your estimated position and what you can see from riverwards in the gaps between the trees. You get to the base of a tree, from here you think you see the remnants of some padding and wintry camo-netting fluttering gently in the breeze - but no sign of your erstwhile assailant. At least not here any more: They've withdrawn, given all the other pieces that have come into play so far you'd estimate that they've likely left the current surrounds, likely to plague you at a later date. Or at least, nearly, distracted by what you saw in the branches of the tree you did not notice the bear trap hidden in the snow below in time, and it snaps heavily around your leg - biting down upon your flesh most painfully. Take damage. But given this as one more piece of evidence combined with the group of soldiers, it seems that they were using all this to distract you long enough for them to withdraw. What do you do? Match You and Haar have your... tender moment? If that's what you'd call it. Definitely a moment and definitely personal. Nonetheless, after this, you petition the First Gift itself for aid once more. As you speak, first there the festive scene is silent, much like last time. Then subtle signs seem to manifest, here and there. There is a response, but it is... measured. The signs become more abstract until flashes of festive images pass through your mind, seemingly a rare occurrence, but it seems the message that the First Gift is trying to convey is a little too complex for what it has used so far, and especially so considering the venue. A pair of lovers on a festive morn, giving each other gifts - snow settling on the window. A toymaker being paid for his services, sweat glistening on his brow after a hard day's work. A proud knight in shining armour, clean-shaven and armed and armoured - swearing fealty to his liege - pledging his service on this most festive of days to grant him his lands and titles. An exchange. The First Gift seeks an exchange, and seems to have a specific type of exchange in mind. Other images flash through your mind, some more straightforward, others rebus puzzles or heavily laden with symbolism, but you manage to piece together what type of exchange it is asking for from this contact. It is willing to grant Nikolaos his freedom for you, but in exchange it wants another to replace him. However, it is not so demanding as to seek that you acquire whomever it is that you might want to confine here (if you are indeed willing to make this exchange) first, it is willing to delay your side of the bargain, but it will hold you to this bargain nonetheless. Quiet reigns once more after this message is conveyed. The sounds seem muted out here, bar the occasional yet very gentle sounds of falling snow, as there is no wind. But you get the feeling that the Gift is waiting for your response, the quiet has begun to feel like an expectant pause. What do you do? Haar You and Match have your... moment together. The now-cracked Match-doll still in your hold, but the moment is over for now. Match seems to ask the Gift his question, and after some slight shifting over branches and minor manifestations, everything seems to go quiet - perhaps it's not talking to him in the conventional sense? It's hard to tell, but whatever is happening, it does not seem that you are privy to it. Provvy is sat near Francesca's gift, but asides from (presumably? It's hard to tell honestly) watching the two of you it seems to mostly be waiting for some sort of choice to be made. A living bell-creature is fairly inscrutable, but it seems to approve of some kind of action being taken, whatever that might be, as long as it involves the extrication of its fellow Gift Bringer. Otherwise, there's not a lot happening in here, asides from it being a strange vista with its radiant aurora-laced sky, and an overwhelmingly large number of festively bedecked trees, like a parody of a festive scene. Even with your troubled thoughts creeping through you, a stirring of memory rises up from the depths. Festive scenes.... what was typical of a standard festive scene that your people had? Also, what do you do?
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Apr 16, 2024 20:37
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| # ? May 6, 2024 04:20 |
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Agios Nikolaos "the Wonderworker", the HarbingerInfinite Oregano posted:Nikolaos Nikolaos is reminded by Francesca's reaction that there is a time and place for logic, and this this is neither. Although he could create some mental distance between his own dreamworld and the "real world", it appears to be quite a bit harder for non-gift bringers to disassociate so easily. "Very well," Nikolaos says, "I admit this is all a bit difficult to explain at this very moment. But please believe me when I say my friends are in danger, and I need your help. I do not know how I can show proof of my good faith but-" The sounds from below are getting closer now. Soon, somebody - whoever it may be - will be upon them. Nikolaos turns back to Francesca: "I will stand by you and fight, or create a diversion, or whatever you ask of me, if that is what it takes for you to trust me." And with that, he gives her his best "please trust me like you'd trust your own grandpa" eyes. [rolled a 7 on talking sense to Francesca with wisdom by appealing to her emotions]
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Apr 20, 2024 20:27
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