The Watchers of Night (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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daybreakacademy2020-05-20 05:47 pm
thewatchers) wrote in daybreakacademy2020-05-20 05:47 pm
Entry tags:
Into the Depths
INTO THE DEPTHS
Log Comm | Network Comm | OOC Comm | Navigation
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.
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A young girl dressed in red with a six-eyed mask sits upon a stone pedestal, weaving a seemingly endless supply of silk thread. At first glance, there seems to be no source, but after a while it's clear that its source is the girl herself; her hair grows long, and she cuts it, and continues to weave.
Her hands falter as if she's in pain, but on and on, she weaves. ]
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Ruadh staggers onward. She has always had indomitable willpower on the subjects of things she hates, even if it would kill her. And so now, even as the strange forest chokes the breath out of her, trying to force its story on her, Ruadh presses onward, a twisted, cracked mask of tragedy in one stretched hand, dragging along the ground, as she tries to force herself forward. Whatever it takes, just get out of the forest. She will not wear the mask- She will not allow the fae to have power over her again.
... But it's not the pain or the choking that stops her. It's the sight of a girl, weaving, and hurting.
Ruadh drags herself over.]
Are you... Are you all right?
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Yes. My mother is ill, and cannot weave, and sleeps yet. So I must weave in her place, til she wakes.
[ She says it as if it's the simplest thing in the world. ]
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Why must you weave? Aren't you in pain?
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[ If she has anything to say about the pain...she just doesn't. ]
Aren't you? [ In pain, she means. ]
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I'm okay. But you... What seal do you mean?
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[ Even under the story's compulsion, she doesn't quite like to talk about it. The words come slow, punctuated by the constant drumming of the loom. ]
She agreed, for me.
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... Are you sure that's true?
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[ Now fragments of her real self, not masked by the story, are falling through. In the blink of an eye, she's no longer a little girl, and her cloak is faded and worn by time. Her hair is cut ragged and short; the loom still weaves on, even as she stops. ]
I mean each word I said. But if you require proof, then walk with me.
[ She stands, abrupt, and offers her a hand. ]
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No, it's not that I need proof, but... Are you sure it was a plague? Really a plague? Didn't someone make this happen?
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[ All for nothing. ]