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.

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Where this vast chain ends is a mask twisted and snarling like a beast. It radiates the intense fury of a thing long caged, the desperate anger of the long-trapped prisoner, and is most alluring to those with a deep well of anger or a propensity for violence. To put it on and become its bearer bestows you with the strength of an ancient, twisted form, and the mindless weakness of a creature consumed by long-held rage.

((OOC: This mask can be worn by a player character. The bearer will gain a greater favour that can be used at any time, as well as the power of a new mask that takes on aspects of the bearer's personality and thematics.

To break the chain this mask belongs to, the character who wears the mask must be subdued in combat. In easily digestible terms, the mask grants a powerful beast form that corresponds thematically to the character who wears it, but the longer it's worn, the harder it is to think and reason like a sentient being; a bearer is gradually reduced to acting and reacting instinctively.))

Where this vast chain ends is a mask that never wears the same pattern twice. Its features and colours shift and warp. It radiates both an intense fear and an intense desire for change, to be something other than yourself, and is most alluring to those who feel trapped or stifled in their lives or have an impulsive nature.
To put it on and become its bearer bestows you with the strength to change into a vast multitude of creatures and magical objects, and the weakness of forgetting the knowledge of the forms that came before.

((OOC: This mask can be worn by a player character. The bearer will gain a greater favour that can be used at any time, as well as the power of a new mask that takes on aspects of the bearer's personality and thematics.

To break the chain this mask belongs to, the character who wears the mask must be caught. In easily digestible terms, the mask grants the ability of shapeshifting not only into animals both mundane and magical, but objects with a capacity for movement, its only restriction being that all such animal and object forms must be capable of running away. Its weakness is that the more the bearer shifts forms, the harder it is to remember the form they originally were; they are effectively running away from themselves.))

Edited 2020-05-21 00:07 (UTC)

Where this vast chain ends is a mask with an impassive and implacable face. It is cold and heavy to the touch. It radiates a desire to judge and escape judgement, to be in control of their own fate and feelings, and is most alluring for those who lack control in their own lives, or for those who are ruled or bound by a code they're strict to follow.
To put it on and become its bearer bestows you with a tongue and will that never falters, and the weakness of being unable to yield or compromise.

((OOC: This mask can be worn by a player character. The bearer will gain a greater favour that can be used at any time, as well as the power of a new mask that takes on aspects of the bearer's personality and thematics.

To break the chain this mask belongs to, the character who wears the mask must be debated and convinced. In easily digestible terms, the mask grants the ability to make any argument sound overwhelmingly convincing, the more subjective and personal the better. Its weakness is that once the bearer has decided their opinion on something, they can only continue to speak that opinion, no matter if it's later proved faulty or otherwise full of holes. If their conviction is swayed or influenced by outside sources, the mask temporarily loses its compelling power.))

[ As you wander the forest, you might stumble across a bright trail in shades of scarlet, though its nature shifts constantly; drops of bright liquid, trampled petals, glinting shards.

Following this trail to its source will lead you to a small house under a clear red sky, hemmed in by a forest full of dead, leafless trees. From here, the trail becomes a proper path, and splits; one goes to the house's door. The other leads away into the forest, to an unclear destination.

At the crossroads to this path stands a man wearing a shifting, scarlet-painted mask, and hooded and heavily cloaked in fabric that seems to reflect with bizarre patterns and distortions. He seems to be waiting expectantly for someone to arrive, or for something to happen. ]

[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.]

The Fox who wanted to light the sky

[It was very cold in the arctic forest. Dark, except for the clusters of stars way up high that some offering some light, enough to outline the trees and give the snow a slight glow, but nothing else.]

[Should one wander through the forest they would easily come across a pristine lake, whose reflection mirrored every star in the sky. A glowing figure stood in the middle of it, small, it looked far more animal than human. The white fox mask covered nearly their entire face, along with silvery white hair to match. The fox seemed almost ethereal, given the way they shined and the way their tail had so many colors at once, iridescently changing from one to the next as it moved.]

[The fox did not seem to notice whether it was being watched or not. They suddenly leapt into the air with ease, managing to stay up there and fly whenever they pleased. Doing flips and tricks and generally having a fun time showing off. All the while their tail was leaving behind trails of color. Recognizable by some.]

[The red trail was very interesting, enough so to keep following it, but not touch it. In fact they seemed to gracefully hover above it.]

[Until finally arriving to where the trail splits. Finally, they look up to see much more had changed to red now. A little sad, this forest could use a little more color...]

[As well as making eye contact(?) with the man in red too. The fox tilted their head to make out who or what this man was.]

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 One Who Gives

[Within the forest are dozens of grand houses. Laughter trickles out the doors from those dressed in jewels and silk and faceless. They all direct to the same place, for this is a story with only one point.

A small shack farther within the forest, with a lock keeping something in rather then out. Inside is a beautiful shrine, decked to the brim with gold and red trim. In the center of it all is something wrapped in pure white silk and kept upright by more silk bound around it and four pillars. A mask of many colors adorns its face, white hair uneven but able to touch the ground. Otherwise there are no identifiable features.

The box of offerings is empty. Judging by the cobwebs, it's been empty for a long time. Yet there is nothing wrong with asking since that is their duty. So says the people.

So says the being's role as the protagonist.]

The One Who Lives Between Sea and Shore

[The Forest smelled strongly of salt, as the forest dips down meeting the shores of a primordial sea, with pearls, iridescent shells, sea glass, obsidian, and other jewels of the seat glinting in nonexistent moonlight. Just beyond the shores are several rock outcroppings, and sitting on one is a young man, combing his long violet hair with a golden comb, singing in a strange voice of heart's desire and answerings to unsolved questions. On his face is a Scaled mask with a crown of seashells lining the top.

He did not seem to care that he was being watched, in fact it almost seems like once there was an audience that he starts to show off as if to beckon someone to come closer, to take a dip - the water's fine.]

[ The forest here is dark. The trees crush together, blocking out all light, to create a clearing littered with candles and cloth.
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. ]

Edited 2020-05-22 00:04 (UTC)

[ The girl in red is drawn by the silk, more than anything else. Silk is a trail that will lead her to another life, a place she yearns for deep inside, more than anything.

But here, it binds. And that, too, seems wrong - but right.

The offering box is empty, full of cobwebs. That, at least, seems wrong. She wonders what she can give, and tears a strip of vivid red cloth from the bottom of her cloak. It tears, heartrendingly, but its colour is a shock, a burn. ]

Blind one, I have here some cloth for you. [ She folds it up and places it on top of the offering box. ] What will you give me in return?

[ The girl in red knows nothing of the sea - what use do her people spinning webs deep underground have for the sea? - but its vastness is mesmerizing. The glint of moonlight on the comb draws her, too; her mother combed her hair, braided it, but now she is gone and the girl does not know why.

She speaks in response to the unspoken invitation. ]

What is so wonderful about this place, that you invite others to swim freely?

[The forest is dark. Not necessarily in the sense of blocking out all light- But rather, the forest is all. The forest is the entire world- No light comes from above, because there is nothing to cast light from above. This is the world of the fae, choking and oppressive.

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?

[In this section of the forest, the trees fade out to reveal a crowded banquet hall in a medieval castle. There is a great feast and celebration being held, and the king can be heard speaking from his throne elevated high above the floor,] Tonight, we rejoice! The dragon that had threatened our fair kingdom has been slain and is no more! The proof of this fine deed rests in my hand!

[The man holds the severed head of a green dragon by the horns high above the crowds, who in turn cheer in appreciation and victory. Lowering the head, the king continues:] Let us toast in honor of our brave dragonslayer, who saved our kingdom!

[A toast is given, and the feast commences. The dragonslayer, known only by the helmet concealing her face, is unable to enjoy the feast held in her honor until she finds her younger sister. She hurries about, searching high and low for her. Eventually, she begins approaching people and asking,]

Have you seen my sister? She has long, blue hair.

[Nobody says anything helpful in response. When she approaches you, the spectator of her tale, you may feel a strong compulsion to reply with, "I saw her enter the Enchanted Forest." But it is up to you to give into the urge, or fight it.]

[ The girl's weaving doesn't stop. ]

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. ]

[He pins the comb behind his ear, stretching as he responds in a lilting voice]

The sea will never burn like the sun above, and treasures lay on its bottom for the clever and bold to claim, and nothing will stay an obstacle, nothing can confine you in the seas.

[It takes a moment before the being responds. It moves and dust falls from it's head. The way it speaks sounds like it hasn't in a long time. Curious for someone who seems surrounded by many and was asked for so much.

But it's its role. So it'll do it.]

...the place....you desire. Deep within your heart. To give you mine to find your own...a perfect place. That life, so long ago.

[It falls silent. Perhaps the girl in red must say if it is acceptable or not.]

[Weaving... Ill... This must be related to the fae somehow, but how? What's going on? She doesn't know enough yet.]

Why must you weave? Aren't you in pain?

[ The man masked in red is a stranger to this story. He stands apart from the rest of the crowd; watching without speaking.

He only moves when he's spoken to, when the dragonslayer comes close; he sees no reason not to continue the tale, and give her the answer she seeks. ]

The one you seek entered the enchanted forest. But since I am a magician, and I know about such things, I would ask that I be allowed to come with you. [ Even through his faceless, red mask, his gaze can be felt. ] Not everything can be slain by steel alone, you see.

[ That feels like pretty words. There's a ring of truth to it, but it's not her truth. ]

Nothing can give me back my heart's desire. [ She doesn't know why she's so certain of this, but she is. The path home is tragic, long, filled with uncertainties. It goes through dark woods and darker places. It is not here in this house of silks. ]

I do not want your heart or your life, so I will ask you a question in exchange for my cloth. What is it that you desire? [ She follows the rules of the dreamlike world, unquestioning. ]

She made a seal. [ She frowns down at her hands, as if she's struggling with the knowledge, as if there's something she should remember but doesn't. ] I must keep it for her until she wakes.

[ If she has anything to say about the pain...she just doesn't. ]

Aren't you? [ In pain, she means. ]

Masks, huh? Hope we can breathe in these.

[The mask is rather sharp and kind of pointy in is hands. Angled, but smooth like it could be anything and he would not know. Nothing too distinctive to tell him if it resembles one thing or another. He can sense the power from it, but it's too different for him to get a strong feel for it.

It's not the same as putting a protective mask or scarf over his face during a sandstorm., buy it's fine. He can work this. He's always been adaptable.

Yeah, adapt.

Like the desert. The desert always changes and Fox changes like it. Shifting. Looking for someone to test.]

[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?

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Into the Depths

Chain of the Monster

Chain of the Cursed

Chain of the Arbiter

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Trickster God Incoming

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