daybreakacademy | Into the Depths

INTO THE DEPTHS
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Something was riding, an omen of great things to come. Focusing on this lead, the Academy sent a team to follow the Dullahan on it's ride.

A. Descent
The Dullahan was persistent, and the more observant that followed would realize that the Fae was intentionally leading them through the thin veil into the Outlands. The surroundings get gradually less and less normal, less familiar until they’re fully into a place that doesn’t feel touched by humanity at all. The air has a strange, salty tinge that can be tasted on the tongue as strangely bare, bleach-white trees reach up into the sky, reedy tendril-like grass crunches under the feet, with bizarre flat and fan-like protrusions rising up and jabbing into the air. Be warned, however; careless contact with any of these features draws blood, they’re all rough-textured and sharp.

Here and there, more and more as the dullahan proceeds, bodies are scattered across the ground and the trees. None are human; in many cases, some aren’t even approaching humans. But they are all dead, without doubt, their pieces torn and scattered across what must have been homes once and are now broken craters, like wounds in the world.

B. Ambush
The unnatural horse suddenly halts, all four hooves planted in the muddy ground, snorting heavily. The headless rider does not try to force his steed on- instead, he readies his weapon.

“Thy mulish persistence begins to become tiresome.”
Utultar’s presence warps the world around him, like a cloak. His eye gleams red, and the sky itself seems to darken. The Dullahan’s horse screams a challenge and charges.

“Begone from my sight, insects.”

His assault is sudden and terrifying; a series of blasts that seem to tear apart the world, hungry and malevolent. The force of their deployment alone, not to mention the impact, is enough to throw people around like dolls, scattering them far and wide.

C. Aftermath
The light was blinding, and it felt as though you were lucky to be alive after it - let alone being able to stand. The strange bleach-white forest seems to stretch on forever, somehow looking dark and gloomy despite their stark color and the lack of foliage. On the pearl-white mud rose small trickles of a blue-black inky liquid that seem to roll rivets into a trail. Perhaps it will guide you to the others who have been separated - it’s better to find someone quick, as it’s unlikely that the Herald is the only threat in this place.

At points, the strange fluid suddenly stops, forming a small puddle before solidifying, lightening in color and warping, leaving a mask behind, and a soft whisper swims in the briny air, the opening to every story known, a promise of power and safety. Without the mask, the strange air makes it hard to breathe, and even harder to think; eventually, the pull will be too strong to resist.

Wearing a mask makes things seem brighter and more colorful; the physical world wavers, to be replaced by strange patterns and symbols and the sense that you’re inside a dream, or a storybook - a place both real and unreal. Following them will lead you to your fellow travelers, whose masks and minds have created colorful storyscapes in which you can easily slip into.

D. Water?
Eventually, as you walk through your own stories and each other’s, you’ll come to the edge of a vast, blue sea. Something as large as an island, imprisoned by three massive chains biting into the ground, wallows uncomfortably, making pained calls that echo across that vast space. Even from a distance, it’s clear to see: it bleeds the same deep, dark blue as the ‘water’ that surrounds it.
It wants to be free, that much is clear. And for those who look closely at the scraps and ruins that litter this vast shore, they may find clear hints to this being’s true nature, and the benefits to freeing it:

-A great deal of Utultar’s power to make and maintain a large library of contracts comes from bleeding this creature and bathing in - and drinking - a regular, fresh supply of its blood. Freeing it will weaken him significantly, setting back his progress to usher in Nightfall.
-The creature is a primordial fae called Nammu-Ninsiku, and was the first to Contract a being on Earth. It has the ability to change or nullify one condition of any contract and will grant one such ‘wish’ to the ones who have a direct hand in freeing it by putting on the masks. This wish can be transferred to a willing recipient if both parties are amenable and the original bearer doesn’t want the responsibility. This wish may have an additional price, depending on the magnitude of the wish; the fae will inform the wisher if this is the case. It will never be anything fatal or too high to pay, but it may well be significant.
-The dead Outlands beings scattered among the coral forest were attempting to free Nammu-Ninsiku, and paid for it with their lives. The dullahan was just one of many of these beings and has been looking for an appropriate way to dispense revenge since the initial slaughter.

Of course, you might just want to free it for being a creature in pain. It’s up to you.)

((OOC Post is over Here for questions or planning))

Chains are first come, first served! If you want to volunteer your character for a mask, reply to the relevant toplevel in whatever way suits your character best and treat it as a starter you can jump off of.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[There's a humble little house among the trees. A very poor house indeed--there isn't even a door. Anyone could walk right in. After all, there's not much to steal. The barest of furnishings, a little dried meat, ashes from the hearth.

One tree in particular stands out, larger than the rest. A tree with a hollow big enough to reach into, if one dares. Big enough to climb, too. A young teenage boy is perched on one of it's thick branches, wearing a mask covered in brown and red feathers. Sitting. Waiting.]

Is someone theeeere? [There's no way a tree that big had no one living it. Especially if the house was abandoned too. But the tree was like, perfect treehouse size.]

[Of course, the fox only bothered to stick their head into the hollowed out tree and not check if there was anyone around it. They may not be the smartest.]

[It reeks of old rotted meat and... there are bones in there. Large bones, too large to be a squirrel or raccoon.

The boy up above leans forward, one hand clutching a branch above him for balance. Huh. Fox.] Are you looking for me?

[The smell was very off putting indeed. One of their most regrettable mistakes so far.]

[There was someone further up in the tree though. They pulled out and look upward.] ...Do you live here?

Yes. [Says the boy casually, as if talking foxes is just something that happens every day.] This is my tree now.

[Of course, all animals talk! Even birds.] Is it..?

[Glances at the hole again.] It's a good tree. ...But it smells pretty bad.

It'll fade. The smell, I mean. [Eventually. There'll be nothing left but the bones.] Please leave it alone.

[They had no reason to touch it, honestly. Seemed like it would be better to move somewhere else but again, it was still a nice tree otherwise.]

[The fox did not want to ask about the tree anymore, so instead they floated up to meet with the boy. Making it more clear that they weren't a normal, worldly fox.] Do you know what happened to the house?

[Well, he's not a normal anything, not bird or boy. What does it matter? He leans back against the bark, looking comfortable. At peace. As long as he's in the tree.]

What do you mean? Nothing happened, but no one lives there now.

[One bird, then another.]

[One for sorrow, two for... mirth? Joy? It seems unlikely at the moment, but who knows. The story's not done yet.]

This your tree?

[She's perched on the roof of the little house, crouching down as she balances on the balls of her feet, on the corner where the house almost but not quite meets the tree. She's woman and raven and both and neither, with her dark feather cloak and black-beaked mask, head tilted curiously.]

It's a good tree. Grown real big.

[Good, good. It makes him feel better to know he's not the only bird-thing around. He seems mostly boy, except for the mask, which almost seems to merge with his body if looked at h the right way. (And clawed nails on his hands and feet, the better for climbing with.)]

It is now. I guess this is my home. You can come up, if you want.

I guess that it's your house. Is it your home?

[Nevertheless, an invitation is an invitation. She moves forward to perch lightly on a branch, somehow balancing without snapping the wood in two despite being a tall, muscular adult.]

[There's an iridescence to her feathers in the dim light. Among the black, there's deep, deep blue.]

A good tree, but it looks like it's growing in thin soil. Not enough to feed it, or you.

[There's a smell of rot in the air, faint at first and with a way of creeping up on a person. Slowly, it grows stronger.]

No. The tree is home, not the house. There's nothing left in there. [Meanwhile, he couldn't be more comfortable up in his tree.] Good thing I don't eat soil. I'll be fine. And I can't move a tree this big, anyway.

[All crows are carrion birds at heart, and rot is familiar enough to her. She understands it well enough.]

You don't, but the tree does. And the soil feeds the things you eat, too. How long are you planning to live in a dead land?

[Her question is fairy tale call-and-response, the weft and weave of the story... but at his last sentence, her response is pure Jailbreak:]

Well not with that attitude, you can't. A little cunning, and anything can be mobile.

I'm already dead. [He tosses that fact out evenly, all calm tones, despite looking very much alive.] This is where I belong, if I'm dead too. There's no reason to move my tree.

[She tilts her head curiously, a birdlike little gesture.] There can be, if you want it. Even the dead can be hungry, so even they need to be fed.

Food offerings, grave offerings, revenge offerings- sometimes if it's not offered, you take. Being dead doesn't mean you have to stay buried. Some dead people I know are up and about all the time, they practically never stay in the coffin. Chasing graverobbers or warning the unlucky, sometimes both...

[She meets his gaze, the stormcloud gray of her eyes changed to something wider and darker, almost black, leaving no whites to her eyes at all.]

Isn't there anyone you feel like haunting?

Into the Depths

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