daybreakacademy | Into the Depths

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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

Not always, but I can't remember when. He comes from a place where only the strong may reign, and apparently he took seeing someone as weak as I am in a place of royalty as a personal insult.

[He flashes a small, wry smile down at the man in red.]

Charming fellow, isn't he?

He certainly doesn't sound pleasant, [ he concludes, with a slight frown. ] But I suppose that's how dragons are, sometimes.

How did he come to find you? A matter of chance, or someone else's bargain?

That I'm not sure of.

[The only time the Prince has seen the dragon, no one else has been able to see him. Some strange trick meant to make him doubt himself all the more, he imagines.

...

He feels a little dizzy.]

Have you met a dragon before?

I haven't. It was why I came here, to see one. I like interesting things, and interesting people, you see. [ He has a fascination for them, almost. But really, he just likes to be sociable. A dragon would be a good challenge. ]

[The Prince laughs. He quite likes this man already, for some reason he can't explain. It's like he's known him for a long time.]

Have you considered looking into the mirror and conversing with yourself?

[The shadows in his room grow longer and gather at his heels. He hopes if he ignores them long enough they'll go away.]

After all, here you are, dressed head to toe in red and searching for dragons. What could be more interesting?

[ Frankly, he'd thought a sheltered prince would be boring, but he's finding it's quite the opposite. For what reason, he doesn't quite know, but he's always been good at following the flow. ]

Ah, but you can only hold a conversation with yourself so long, can't you? There's nothing new to be had in speech with a mirror.

When you add another, then things become far more interesting. Even if that person is a dragon - or a prince. Is that not so?

For you, maybe! Now you're making me talk to a mirror.

[Taken a liking to him, have you?

The easy smile disappears from the Prince's face, shadows crawling up his legs.

Even though you know what will happen?

The mask he wears begin to twist and darken, the Prince's breath growing labored as he clutches his head.

If he wants to talk--]

No!

[The Prince whirls around to face someone or something in his room only to tumble backwards out the window, darkness wrapping around him like a cocoon that grows and distorts until a large, black dragon with yellow eyes lands on all fours in front of the man in red, his wings spread wide and corners of his mouth pulled back in a dreadful grin.]

Let's talk.

[ He's not close enough to see what happens, but the prince in the tower stumbling backwards out the window, falling to become a dragon, is more than enough to tell him something of what had conspired.

But he doesn't feel fearful. If anything, he feels a thrill; it's balancing on the knife's edge. It's exciting, electric. ]

A mirror indeed. [ It's an almost pleased murmur, like he's confirming a suspicion he didn't realise he had. ] Are you his reflection, or is he yours, I wonder? Or is it more twisted and tangled than that?

[The Dragon growls, claws digging grooves in the forest floor.]

Compare me to that weakling again and I might just cut this little chat short.

It doesn't matter to me if you're a hero or not. If you get on my bad side, I won't hesitate to kill you just like everyone else.

Then kill me - if you can! Rend me to pieces and I'll only come back, worse than before, better than before. [ His mask is red as blood. It shines like the moon. The seams of him, all his pieces, glitter under the darkness of his cloak.

He is the wayward corpse, the spirit gone hunting for bloody revenge. Deathless and without fear. What else compares to the fate already faced? ] Are you so afraid of your own reflection?

[There's a spark of excitement--of sheer delight--at the man in red's words, tail swishing to and fro as the pupils of his yellow eyes grow large.

That is, until the question is posed.]

I am afraid of NOTHING!

[He roars and opens his mouth wide, spitting out a large jet of blue flame.]

[ He moves with inhuman speed to dodge the fire, his cloak the only thing singed by the flame. But rather than do the sensible thing and flee at clear hostility, he closes the distance between them.

His eyes are bright under the mask's darkness, fixed on the dragon still. He still awaits something further, finding even this violent response unfulfilling. ]

Are you certain?

I'm certainly not afraid of you.

[He growls again, lashing out this time with his claws.]

[ He leaps away, unnaturally fluid; something between corporeal and not. But he's not discouraged in the slightest. ]

I admit, I'd be sad if you were. [ He doesn't know why he says that, only that it feels wrong, somehow, not to say otherwise. ] But I'm nothing to be scared of.

But it seems that you've answered not a single one of my questions the way they should be answered. Surely they're not such difficult things to consider?

[There's something familiar about this, but he can't quite put his finger on what. The way the man in red moves is unnatural, impossible for any mortal man, and yet there's something familiar about the form all the same. And not only that, but the circumstances, the needling, that stubborn insistence on getting him to answer stupid, useless questions...

But he has to put it out of his head. The story will accept nothing less.]

Fine. It's not like it'll matter when I'm done with you anyway. If you want to call it a reflection, I'm not going to stop you, but don't you dare try to imply that he and I are the same.

I'm the only one who deserves to exist. Pathetic creatures like that naive, helpless man are better off dead.

As expected from someone who comes from a place where the strong rule! [ It seems perfectly logical; a dragon who is fierce and strong, a prince who is not. Opposites bound together, detesting one another. A story about two creatures not meant to be one.

(But the prince and the dragon are the same; there's a sadness there, though he can't grasp the reason for it. Something he knew, something he remembers...It slips away quickly, stifled behind that bright mask.) ] But what happens when your strength falters, when there's something your claws and fire cannot catch? Will the fate you suggest for him become your fate as well?

What a foolish question. Of course it would.

[The dragon says it and means it, but still, he doesn't want to die.]

But that's if they can kill me. And I'm not about to let that happen without a fight.

Is it really so foolish, to wonder about the manner of your own death? To acknowledge that even strength won't keep you safe forever?

[ He is a dead man, after all. It seems only natural that this should dwell on his mind. ]

He and you may not be the same, but there's no shame in what he is, just the same as there's no shame in what you are. [ Perhaps the prince isn't exactly to his tastes (and why does that matter, exactly? there's a furious argument in the back of his head for a moment about WHY, EXACTLY, DOES THAT MATTER), but it's no reason to condemn him or scorn him for it. ] Does it make you stronger, to discard him? Is there a curse, on his reason for being, or yours?

Yes, it does make me stronger to discard him. I don't need someone like him weighing me down.

[This feels familiar. Not the conversation, but the fact that conversation is happening at all.

He's not sure if he likes this man or hates him.

Either way, he refuses to let his guard down.]

What's with you and curses? Why should it matter if there's a curse or not.

[Which means, of course, there is.]

You're both so contrary that I can't see what else would have bound you together otherwise. Or split you apart, perhaps. [ Why does it feel familiar? He doesn't know. ] What else would cast such a divide between you?

Me, of course. Who else?

[He lifts one of his front legs and rolls a claw in a lazy circle.]

The dragon is here, therefore the prince is obsolete. That would be the end of it if he wasn't so stubborn.

[Even he's not one-hundred percent sure what he's talking about here. The story at work, he supposes. A mix the character alone can't grasp, a reason the man beneath would rather avoid thinking about.]

It's like saying dying is why you're dead. Kind of obvious, don't you think?

A prince and a dragon aren't exactly opposites, so I'm afraid it's not as obvious as you might think. Even less so, if you and the prince are [ the same person ] entwined so inexorably.

What makes you so certain he must be obsolete, that there's no other fate for him than that?

How long do you think someone like that would survive in the real world? He didn't even know you for an hour and was already chummy. He'd be lucky if all that happened to him was being killed by bandits out there.

The way you speak, it sounds like you're fearful for his safety, more than anything else. [ Does he really hate him that much - no, undoubtedly, undeniably, he does. But there's something else there, too. ] There's a strength in weakness, or the appearance of weakness, but a solitary dragon like yourself would know little of that, I imagine.

[He scoffs]

Did you really come all this way to insult me? For someone who doesn't know me, you sure are making a lot of assumptions, aren't you dead man?

[His voice wavers a bit.

(He does know you.)

It's ridiculous. They've never met.]

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