Cypress
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Player Character
Posts: 88
Trainer Class:
Player Name: Felicity LaChance
OOC Username: Mel
Arena Points: 10
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Post by Cypress on Jul 15, 2024 5:45:03 GMT 9
The sudden lack of natural light didn't appear to help matters, as Cypress began to move her way through the foyer into another room almost blindly - staying quiet all the while - until, she spotted something. A lone candle, flickering faint orange hues in the depths of the darkness, which seemed to brighten when Cypress grabbed a hold of the brass candleholder, moving it closer so she could move.
Now that she finally had a source of light, it was a bit easier to move around - the room she ended up in, a almost fanciful library - abandoned though it may be, it would have been a peaceful place to curl up with a book in better days Though the eyes didn't help with the gentle ambiance and the flickering orange light.
Some appeared carefully drawn, elegant lines and dots. Others, like the frantic scribblings of a madman. But all the same, everywhere the hybrid looked, there were eyes, seemingly following her every move. Another note was resting upon a coffee table, written almost frantically upon a piece of sheet music. ...she recognized this song. Westminster Quarters, or a familiar clock chime, scribed for playing on piano. A song she remembered playing with a old friend, laughing as they messed up simple notes and (ignore it, ignore it) - her eyes moved to the note, almost unreadable, though Cypress could pick out a few words.
{note 3: unknown.}
For a moment, Cypress remained quiet, staring at the note even as the everdutiful ui counter ticked up:
? ? ?: Notes Found - 3/4.
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Cardinal Glace
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Player Character
Posts: 60
Trainer Class:
Player Name: Bill Anderson
OOC Username: Ladybug
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Post by Cardinal Glace on Jul 15, 2024 11:15:53 GMT 9
The storm grew worse outside, pulling heavy clouds of sleeping sleet and roaring thunder around itself as it settled in over the village.
Inside, pockets of rampant seasweed and leaky rooves were dealt with swiftly, and in the moments between tasks Glace and Celeste talked to small things.
"The docks are falling apart."
"The blacksmith was full of salt."
"Where is all this seaweed coming from? Seeds triggered by the rain?"
"What happened to that mattress?"
Somewhere in the middle, Glace realized that he still had pages of the diary left. He settled down with his back to a crumpled stack of books and read further.
{Blacksmith's Papers}Crescents hunt me. Slick lunar smiles dancing in the lines of my day-to-day, mocking my unfinished work. I see that grin in every link of chain, every cupped hand, or egg yolk.
In what hours of sleep will come to me, I imagine myself hammering the very curvature of the Earth, as if my strength alone could flatten the horizon and soothe the seas.
The metal was wrong. Tainted, maybe, by the road or contact with some impurity. I clipped half the scales away and melted them down to start again. More bismuth, less tin. More heat and less fire. Quenching the rings makes them stronger, like frozen friends leaping into the Winter lake.
My hammer broke yesterday. The head split into two loathesome chunks. I didn't notice until I found myself working on the pieces by hand, my fingers blooded and cramped from bending the rings myself.
There isn't time to order or make one. I know this in my gut. The moom rises each night with new purpose, pulling me back to my bench like a carthorse lured by some sliver of carrot.
Nothing has ever mattered to me as much as this. I lose breath with every piece, and feel your memory prickle my skin.
I know you're there, tucked away in the shadows. Judging my worth. Am I swift enough? Does my love hold true? Can I entreat the waters to reunite us?
The moon raises its sickle, and I must return to work. For you.
Glace checked the papers. There was only one left. "Heartbreak can be a terrible affliction," he said with deep sympathy.
Whether from the paper or from some change in the air, Glace realized all at once that they were being watched. The glint of a predator flashed in the darkness above them. "There are eyes," he whispered. "Up in the rafters."
Beside him, Popplio tensed. Its rubbery fur hackled, and a growl like furniture being pushed across the floor shuddered in its little chest.
Lighting crashed outside, and another pair of glinting eyes flashed in their unsafe haven. "Bookcase, between the rotten encyclopedias."
"Under the bed."
He blinked, and for a moment he saw hundred of tiny eyes glinting behind his eyelids.
He shouted in alarm, and there was a crash like heavy things being dropped, and two objects rolled away across the room.
Popplio sprung into action, snapping and chasing at the now-manifest intruder, and returned a moment later with three pearls.
Glace held them in his cold hands. They were impure, with a deep black fault in the center of each. In the uncertain light they looked like eyes.
Braced by his handful of eyeball, Glace inspected the room. The flashing eyes had faded to dull carvings with painted sclera. He rubbed a thumb over one. It was cut deep and carefully. Dreadful realism brought to life by the subtle lighting of mind and lightning.
"I believe we just imagined it," Glace said to Celeste, as if that were of any comfort. "I found these." The treasure clattered in his hand as he held it out to her for the taking.
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Altair
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Sky Trainer
Mythstar
Posts: 485
Trainer Class:
Player Name: Evert Steilsson
OOC Username: Akivili
Arena Points: 49
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Post by Altair on Jul 16, 2024 12:34:21 GMT 9
“I said—do you have any idea what’s going on here?!” he would exclaim over the loud, clapping thunder that echoed all around them.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” he would remark—ohh, the one time he didn’t have a Fire-type on him (or found a Fletchling just yet) and he was just about too—
The hair-raising warning was all they would have before a sharp electrical shock would zap the both of them—even his Greninja, who hissed in pain before glowering over at the Zebstrika for a few moments because ouch, that hurt!
“Hanzo, can you check if there’s another lamp?”
‘Anything.’
The Greninja would hop off to search, while they stumbled around in the dark and he listened to the story that the other had read off from another piece of paper. It was like—why was he getting the feeling of being watched?
He turned in the direction where the dual-type had gone off to, who was returning holding what appeared to be a lamp—along with another piece of paper.
‘Found the paper underneath the lamp, but I can’t make heads or tails of it, Maybe you can?’
“Give it here,” he continued; the hair-raising feeling of a seemingly invisible multitude of eyes watching his, and his Greninja’s, every move. It wouldn’t take long for him to see eyes at the corner of the room—near the ceiling—before he turned his gaze elsewhere and saw a distinctly feminine set of eyes behind his fellow rider of Pokémon.
“Josh, there was—just now—lady’s eyes behind you—”
He had to stop himself from stammering while the lamp’s weak light flickered and he read the third note.
{dorime}‘iiOs, l f u r. chliE dOn shO p O Ok.
mYe hd sOE O sElE
msic, OisE, Er, sinin, whEE
mlO’
The only thing that he could make out now were the initials at the end of the note—he wondered how Milo must’ve felt about having a delinquent part-timer working for the grocery store…
“…are you getting the feeling you’re being watched? From multiple directions, all at once?” he would turn to ask Josh Devlin quietly.
The gibberish note was making his head hurt too much.
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Celeste
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Player Character
Posts: 27
Trainer Class:
Player Name: Celeste
OOC Username: Magnere
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Post by Celeste on Jul 16, 2024 13:25:44 GMT 9
The darkness had set in, and Celeste didn't particularly feel like triapsing around in the darkness, stuck in an abandoned village during perhaps the most dangerous weather she has seen in quite a while within this world.
Still within the kitchen, she'd search around for a little bit before coming to a few conclusions. It was cold, dark, and they could easily spend hours upon hours trying to search through every book.
They needed fire.
She unfortunately didn't have any answers to Cardinal Glace 's own questions, only having some of her own. She carefully stepped across the kitchen, the seaweed squishng beneath her feet as she searched the cabinets and drawers slowly. Eventually, she found what she was looking for. An old pair of flint and steel to light the flames that shall sooth their souls.
Grabbing a few of the old tomes that were completely destroyed and impossible to repair, she'd place them into the old wood stove, and began to start the flames. It took a while for anything to catch, Some pages were bone dry, and others seemed completely damp, but eventually fire began.
She was satisfied for a moment, leaving the wood stove open for light when she finally saw it.
The Eyes.
It was as if everything was covered with them. The covers of the tomes, the cabinets, the floorboards, it felt like even for a moment she witnessed it forming within the flames. They weren't alone. They were being watched by something. Something primal unnatural, something that should not be here.
Or more accurately, that she and the others should not be here.
"Something lives here," She spoke quietly, slowly stepping backwards until she bumped back into the counter again. "Something... happened to these people."
She would be safe. Of course she would be, it was a "game." She'd respawn eventually if she perished, but even still. There wasn't any way to describe the uncomfortable fear, the knowledge of being watched, aware of something beyond their understanding, making itself known.
Her hand clutched to her chest, attempting to still her breathing when she heard a crash and something rolling.
Pearls. A priceless treasure, dotted as if they were in fact, more eyes. But they were... different. They didn't have the same aura of fear as the eyes did upon the walls, and everywhere else. They seemed more like a blessing.
She'd slowly reach out, grabbing one from Cardinal Glace 's hands, and instinctively clutching it close. "... Keep the others upon you. It seems we have been given these for a reason. Let us not lose them. I fear it is not our imagination simply playing tricks on us."
The fire needed more fuel, and unfortunately all they really had were books. She'd frown at the act, but what else choices did they have? To freeze to death in the darkness, alone and afraid?
She had kneeled down to pick up a few ruined tomes for the flames, one in particular caught her eye. A leather tome with an eye painted directly on the cover in red dye, seemingly in tact. She flipped it open, saw the word Prologue, and frowned deeper and deeper.
"... I have found the same story, rewritten twice now. I fear, I shall only continue to find it. Give me a minute to dissect this, if you please."
Prologue
Waves crashed against the sides of the boat like a wild animal clawing at its prey. It wanted to rip it apart from the inside out, and devour every single part of it. It craved more than just death, it desired to be colored red with the blood of the lives it took. (There are things that are worse than death. I would know. I keep seeing them in my sleep.)
Lightning clashed in the heavens like fangs ripping apart the sky, revealing the uncaring nature of the world. A lone ship, barely surviving, sailed across the violent seas, fighting to survive against a predator that had no weakness. There was no surviving, only seeing how much of you was left when the storm whipped away everything else. (The storm is alive. It lives, it breaths. It wants. Why won't it end?)
Two days had passed since the rains had begun to claim lives aboard the vessel, two days of a ceaseless downpour that soaked men to the very soul, threatening to take more than just flesh. Two days since both the sky and oceans agreed. This vessel must die. (They all would be better off dead, but they don't deserve that luxury.)
(I miss Laura.)
"Captain!" Shouted a voice on the deck of the ship. attempting to overpower the crash of thunder that deafened them all. His body weak from malnutrition, covered in bruises from being smacked against the sides of the ship, and blood dripping from his palms as he worked until he bled. Frayed, soaked ropes tied to his body "We are not going to make it."
Not a single other sailor dares utter a word, the tension in the air so thick it could be sliced with a knife. Only thunder breaks the silence, and the footsteps of a determined, yet fearful captain as steps out onto the deck from the cabin.
"You'll make it boy." The captain's voice cried out confidently, as if he knew something more than what everyone else did. His feet standing firm against the crashing waves and sway of the ship, unsuspecting of his true, cruel fate. "I'll see to it that you return home safe and sound. I can promise you that."
(It's sad, knowing what's going to happen. He really wants to see the boy safe, even if he's going to die.)
"How can you promise that?!" The man cried out in anger, scrambling back to his feet as he looked at the Captain. "The storm isn't stopping, it shows no sign of slowing down. It just took Dan moments ago, and Jesse has given up on navigation. We're starving, dying, and all you can make is empty promises?"
The captain was quiet, staring up into the sky as he pondered. His beard was still stained with blood from his old war wound, dripping from above his eye and partially blinding him. Eventually, he spoke up again. "Because I know how to end this storm. She's angry, and at High Tide, she won't let us leave so easily."
"Who is angry?!" Cried out the young man, gripping hard to the railing to keep himself from losing his footing. "Because I can tell you who is angry, me! Us! You keep talking about that damn treasure of yours, it's cursed us all!" (Better. He has every right to be mad. The Captain's greed has damned them. Reminder to make Greed a constant theme in the novel.)
Silence fell over the ship. It seemed he had spoken what all the rest were thinking. Nothing but the creaks and groans of the ship and the crew.
"The Great Mother of the Sea." The captain finally replied, clutching something close to his chest. "She wants me dead, won't be satisfied with anything less than my soul." (She wants him to suffer eternally, but he doesn't know that.)
"Sir, what about your daughter?" The young man spoke up again, determination rising up within him as he knew what needed to be done. "Do you plan to make her an orphan, without a second thought?"
"This isn't about her. This is about my mistakes. May she never live to know what I've done. I am certain, it is my time to die." He replied with a somber tone, looking out across the horizon and slowly stepping closer to the edge of the ship, seeing the lightning flashing even more violently up ahead. His soul was uneasy, knowing just how much he was going to suffer at the hands of the Great Mother. But what other choice did he have? To allow everyone else to die?
It turns out, that he didn't have a choice.
Pain shot through his body like a lightning flash, blood dripping down his back and staining his coat.
"I'm sorry, Captain." The young man suddenly spoke, his own hands stained with the blood of betrayal as he twisted a knife into the captain's back, even as tears continued to drip. "We can't take any chances. She wants you dead, we have to make sure."
The captain's breath had been stolen from him, but he couldn't even attempt to fight back as the rest of the sailors pounced, seeing their way out of this tempestuous hell. Desperate chanting and prayer filled the air, a sacrifice was needed. A sacrifice was given.
Multiple hands lifted, tossing the captain over the edge of the ship, and dropping down into the briny depth below. Blood filled the ocean waters, staining the wood of the boat forever as the captain suffered. Not a self-sacrifice in dignity, in honor of the safety of his men. But a sacrifice made by crazed, desperate sailors, driven mad and eager for any solution.
Even murder was no longer beyond them.
Water rushed around the captain, tossed and turned in the waves as he was brutally drained of his strength and dragged along the side of the both, knife still stuck firmly in his flesh. All the while, his hand clutched to his chest, refusing to drop the Ocean's Treasure, even in death she would have to pry if from his cold, dead body after he grew stiff and lifeless. Eventually, the captain was pulled down beneath the waves, forcefully drowned as water entered his lungs.
The captain's last words nothing more than a prophecy. It was his time to die.
(I realized that I can't be graphic enough. It is not enough to show him suffering in death, he has to have suffered in the last minutes of his life. He has to be murdered. Even if he knows he has to die, he needs to be killed. I'd rip his heart out of it made sense for the story.)
(He deserved to die. He deserved it. He deserved it.)
It took a few minutes, but the storm began to eventually let up. The winds died down, but continued their horrific whistling. The waves continued crashing against the ship, but were not enough to threaten another life. The lightning stalled, only flashing every minute or so now. The worst of the ocean's wrath was behind them.
Most of the sailors all cheered, the Captain's Curse was no longer upon them. There was only one man who felt remorse, who truly cried any tears at all for the man he had slain. Tears dripped down onto blood-stained hands, never to be clean of sin ever again.
His tears join the rest of the salty sea, but the blood will forever show the truth.
(His blood-red hands will permanently mark Davy, reveal him to the reader, no matter what disguise he uses. Remember.)
Chapter One:
Evelyn shot up in bed, breathing heavily as the nightmare felt far too real. It was always the same one about her father, about how-
(I can't make it a dream anymore. It's far too real. I don't know what to do. I need to think.)
(Maybe I deserve this? The dream can't stop until the story is done. I can't stop writing. I can't stop. I keep trying to comment, losing focus on my work. It's like the words are flowing from me without any thought. I'm so alone. I miss my parents, I miss Laura. I miss myself. Who am I, anymore? What am I? Am I doomed to just stay inside my home until I complete my work? Can I even think of anything else, beyond? I'm beginning to lose track of the days. Without Laura, I'm so lost, its like half of me has died. I don't know what to do anymore.)
(I hope she is resting in peace.)
(I need to start again. My instincts tells me to. I can't argue anymore, I'm losing the strength to do so.)
The novel ended again. Celeste frowned deeply, sighing to herself as she looked up over at the only other living person in here, trying to ignore the eyes watching their every move. "She's going mad."
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Laguna
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World Traveler
Mythstar
Posts: 469
Trainer Class:
Player Name: Abigaelle Gauthier
OOC Username: Magnere
Arena Points: 0
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Post by Laguna on Jul 28, 2024 19:49:38 GMT 9
Lightning shatters the pitch black night sky as glass fractures to pieces. Thunder echoes within the mind as though it could deafen thoughts. Rain fills the void just as knowledge pours freely from the mind.
The Eyes witness all. Their presence a weight upon the soul, dragging it down, down, down, down, down.
It is unnatural like anything else, alien unlike any alien witnessed. And it seems, The Empty has finally decided that too much has been Witnessed. Defined. Identified. There is no method to the madness, no madness to the method.
It simply is.
Those who remain find their actions Slowed, Stalled, Hindered. The pounding of their heart beating to a beat unfamiliar to their own. Jerks, Bumps, and Steps taken all on their own as though commanded by the quietly growing darkness.
Danger. The Empty wants in. It wants in. It wants in.
One soul can not dream to quell it all on its own.
All that is Known about The Empty shall become Consumed.
Seaweed stretches in the darkness unseen, growing where it is not Wanted, not Desired, not Wished. Like reaching tendrils for a being that does not exist, but always has. It creeps forth, gripping at all that moves. Catching onto limbs, attempting to drag ones down into the deep.
To be like all the Rest. The ones who Lost. The ones who Sank. The ones who Changed.
Eyes upon surfaces watch, as condensation forms upon them. Like tears, the salt drips below. Drip. Drip. Drip. Like a flood, threatening to drown what remains, to quell the threat of existence.
And yet, Pearls seem to shimmer in the darkness as the tears of the Eyes contact them. Her Eyes shimmer with a glory that Blinds, Deafens, and Mutes the others. Like a brilliant gleaming glow, like multitudes of souls burning brightly upon the finality of their existence, like two great powers at war with one another.
Never Ceasing. Never Ending. Never Finishing.
All within the town witness impossibly glowing bright lights from one particular abode, where Cardinal Glace and Celeste currently shelter. This home, filled with books upon books upon books, a bastion of Knowledge, Information, Facts. The last safe haven before the rest is Consumed by the Empty. And yet, travel to the safe haven would prove Risky, Dangerous, and Deadly. The Empty has become present, and it would be easy to Slip, Slide, and Fall right into the abyss.
As the world Changes, Mutates, Shifts into something new, something horrific, something unknown, sudden text reveals itself.
The Quest has Updated.
Find Note 4 and Become Known
OR
Leave, Never Return, and the Quest will be Complete
OOC notes: Players must follow these guidelines for the next reply.
- Find Dripping Eyes - Find Creeping Seaweed - Find Your Body Betraying You Beyond Her Light
Optional Guidelines:
- Find Note Four - Find Source of Her Light OR
- Leave, and Never Return.
- Find ? ? ? Known ? ? ? Keyword ? ? ? Optimal Mood Music
Deadline is August 4th, 11:59 PM EST
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Altair
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Sky Trainer
Mythstar
Posts: 485
Trainer Class:
Player Name: Evert Steilsson
OOC Username: Akivili
Arena Points: 49
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Post by Altair on Jul 30, 2024 0:46:19 GMT 9
“Josh… can… can you hear that?” he turned to ask his companion—was he starting to hear things?
After the extremely loud peal of lightning and accompanying thunder shook the structure where they’d taken shelter in—wait, what was happening?
‘Uh… you might want to take a look at this,’ the Greninja spoke up, shattering his thoughts and bringing him back into reality for a few moments. The amphibian Pokémon then pulled off a piece of… was that… was that seaweed? Why did it look like it was growing all over the place now?
In a dry place, like this?
There was… there was the beginning of a little ‘click’ing noise in the back of his mind; but the dots hadn’t connected themselves yet.
He would take a look at the seaweed that was indeed, inching up his Greninja’s—as well as his own—legs—and that would be the last thing he would remember doing as the sound in his ears got louder and louder and louder and drowned out—
However, from the Greninja’s eyes, it looked like his human companion was… was doing something that didn’t look like he was in complete control of.
‘Hey… hey! What… what are you doing?!’ the frog Pokémon would exclaim, watching the white-haired human seemingly moving of his own volition; why did it look like he wasn’t in control of his own movement as he staggered towards the window that had shattered where they’d sought shelter, never mind if it looked like he was about to take a dive from the—
‘Josh, right? Help!’ the Greninja would roar his way as the dual-type sprinted after the human who was now weaving like a drunk idiot towards the gaping open window, where the pounding rain was now screaming in before the human climbed onto the ledge—
‘Excuse my Kalosian, but what the fuck are you doing?!’ the amphibian would continue, outright yelling as the human seemingly flung himself from the window ledge—
Never mind that those dripping eyes had shown up on the wall behind them while this was going on—
It looked like the ground below had been utterly subsumed, devoured by the darkness—where had the human disappeared to?!
‘Josh, I don’t know what the fuck is happening, but you—get out of here while you still can!’ the Greninja would warn the other. ‘I’ll look for him! When I find him, and we find you later, I’ll tell you what happened!’
And the Greninja would also dive from the window ledge, seemingly into the darkness that had consumed the ground far, far below.
But where… where would they be taken?
For the white-haired human, it felt like he was drifting… drifting in an ocean. Back in the water, the very same water that he’d loved during his university years while he was a part of the swim team.
(He literally did not feel his body ‘crashing’ into the inky blackness from the seemingly great height he fell from.)
Only this crushing darkness looked ready to swallow him into its embrace; the very loud thrumming hissing in his ears a very different cadence from the organ that kept him alive—the hissing sound of two different pulsing noises, yet the unknown sound was overwhelming him, drowning out everything—
Like he was becoming someone else altogether.
But how was that possible?
note not found YET, I have plans. | Josh Devlin & Cypress
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Cypress
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Player Character
Posts: 88
Trainer Class:
Player Name: Felicity LaChance
OOC Username: Mel
Arena Points: 10
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Post by Cypress on Aug 2, 2024 3:34:46 GMT 9
Thunder crashes, lightning strikes, and for a moment, the house shakes on its axis. Books crumble to the ground, and Cypress - despite her efforts - lets out a squeak in fright. The eyes are dripping, dripping with tears and there is seaweed creeping up the books, no longer bookmarks but sacrifices for a greater purpose (when did that get there?) and everything is loud, Loud, the rain crashes through her eardrums and it's- then. then- Her heart isn't her own, raspy and pained, and her movements are not her own, what an awful case of bad karma - she stares in panic as her body steps and jerks outside into the gloomy starless night. The wolf hybrid tries to stay still but can't, a marionette on a string - and for a moment, she glances around the darker yet darker night. Is this the end? Is she doomed to fall, just like this? Doomed to the fate of the villagers prior, doomed to die like everyone here?
Doomed like whatever happened to-?
There is a sudden crash that doesn't reach her ears, a distant tinny thing different than the heartbeat-that-isn't-hers and the loud that threatens to consume everything, but there - someone is on the ground, darkness threatening to consume them, consume her and she doesn't know what to do-
But then there is Light. Bright, shining light that cuts through the dark, coming from another house, impossibly bright and shining and real. It's bright as the Sun.
And in that moment, despite her jerky movements, despite the heartbeat-that-isn't-hers coursing through her veins, a memory passes by her mind.
Her eyes move to the white haired man, laying on the ground, and the Greninja who leaped out to try and help. She grits her teeth, and makes a decision.
"Hey-!" Cypress begins as she halls Altair up to his feet, out of the inky black as she slings a arm around her neck to keep him upright - trying to talk to him, if he could even hear her. "Don't - don't give up. I'm...gonna try and get you somewhere that's...safer!" With that, she begins to move away from whatever threatened to drag them down, towards the light, gritting her teeth all the while as if the strain threatened to tear her apart.
The strings threaten to pull her back. She tugs against them as she turns her head back to the sun itself, to Soleil - and moves forward.
Don't Give Up. 'Persistence and Great Service, that's the XMart Way.'
Don't Falter. 'You would be considered braver than almost every member of the BFC. [...] We need people like you, unafraid to show their passion and love for Birds in the public eye.'
Don't Stop. 'For it is my right as a Sinclair to do the best I can for those I love...even if they're gone.'
DON'T STOP! Somehow, someway, Cypress wanted to protect those close to her.
DON'T STOP MOVING!
The travel towards the literal light-house may be deadly, slippery, slidable, so easy to fall into the sea and shift into something unknown - but isn't that just like an aisle in a grocery store? Avoiding spills, avoiding tripping on shopping carts, avoiding all of these things. It's a surprise that Good Luck can come from anywhere, even muscle memory.
She keeps moving forward against the tide, avoiding slips, trips - anything that could slow her down, that could make her let go, that could...could cause hurt.
Throughout it all, the wolf grips onto Altair's hand like a vice, continuing to move despite the Jerks, despite the Bumps, despite the commands of a presence begging her to come back COME BACK COME BACK-! Unnoticable to Cypress in that moment, a annoyed growl escaped her throat. An emotion, unfelt for so long, now kindles within her soul, bright and warm. No. No, she wouldn't listen. She wouldn't obey.
Philo wanted to do the best for those he loved, even if they had passed. Talking with people was the bravest thing Cypress had ever done, for the BFC. And that's not even mentioning the Christmas Event...the atmosphere, the blood and ink on silver, the odd feeling of that entire event.
Despite all of that, she pressed on.
She was brave. She was strong. She was passionate. (...she's the sun, despite a wheel's constant turns). She can't give up. She won't give up.
For the people of the village who couldn't be saved. For the people here, who might be drawn into the deep. For someone who she only came to know through words on a page (and a part of her feels like she's lost someone all over again, an ache echoes in your chest but you press on) She'll keep moving, despite it all.
Because she's brave, isn't she? Because she's strong, isn't she? Because she's passionate, isn't she? (because she's the sun, isn't she?) ... Because she's come this far, hasn't she?
The wolf-hybrid keeps moving towards the light with the other player in tow, keeps striding towards the literal lighthouse - a hole in the side with light shining through it - and the wolf enters with no delay, attempting to pull Altair in with her as she does so.
A simple bathroom, abandoned overtime, with a hole in the wall wide enough for someone to enter - she enters a room filled with light -
the strings snap.
and her heart finally beats to her own desires.
She takes in a strangled gasp of air, that she hadn't noticed she was holding.
There's water streaming down her face. ...Rain must have gotten in her hair. She wipes it away with her jacket sleeve, before turning to Altair, her ears unknowingly flattening to her skull. "Are...are you OK?" She begins, before turning to herself, slightly shivering, with a shaky whisper. "Merde - that was...that was..."
Her hand balls into a fist over her chest - and there's a moment of pause. Her breathing returns to a shaking varient of normal.
She's alive. She's alive. She helped someone, tried to anyways. ... She can't stay in here. Not in this room, anyways.
She needs to keep moving.
Cypress would exhale, before making her way into another part of the house, a bedroom with a...ruined mattress? Regardless, her eyes move around the room. A simple mattress, a wooden floor, a closet door - wait...closet door?
Curiosity grabbed a hold of the wolf.
Opening the door, something would fall to the ground with a slam, another, a clatter of steel. For a second, her ears would flatten, eyes closing suddenly, only to open on a...jewellery box? There wasn't a lot of jewellery in it, the old looking box having fallen to the floor but...but something caught the light, and her eyes would widen. It was strung on a thick leather cord, with two pearls seemingly framing the sides of it, catching the light with soft hues...but there was no mistaking it.
That...that was the Charm of the Sea. That was Philo's heirloom, why was it here? And there, lying on the ground - a sword with blue-white steel, accented with navy - that had to be the sword he was describing too! How-why...? For a moment, the wolf-hybrid would stare down at the two heirlooms, before picking them up. First, the Charm, which was slung around her neck with reverence. Second, the Sword, handle gripped in one hand. With a smile, she'd close the door with care.
Soon, Cypress walks into the rest of the home proper, and two figures - one with a orange outfit, the other in pastels...Celeste and Cardinal Glace , their player tags read. She'd apologize for intruding, but this doesn't feel like the right time. So, she instead, asks a question, adjusting the sword into her left hand, rather than her right.
"Uh - excuse moi? Sorry to be a bother, but...did you also feel like something was...trying to drag you into the darkness?"
As she asks this, something catches her eye on the ground. A...Journal?
She picks it up, with a shaking hand. The pages are torn out...only a few remain. She whispers the words softly, as if reading a letter from a old friend.
{note 4 (or: in the end, we become, all that we behold.)}
A weak smile flickers across her face. In the end, he couldn't escape his fate, but...there's closure. An understanding - clouded by madness that it may be.
Her hand smooths the pendant around her neck, the sword resting on her hip.
She'll fight for him. Carry on a legacy she didn't even know.
"...Goodbye, Philo. Thank you." The Journal closes with a snap.
notes found: 4/4. objectives completed: find dripping eyes, creeping seaweed, body betraying you beyond her light + note 4 and become known, source of her light.
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Josh Devlin
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Beginning Trainer
Player Character
Posts: 1,057
Trainer Class:
Player Name: Josh Devlin
OOC Username: RaikouRider
Arena Points: 28
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Post by Josh Devlin on Aug 5, 2024 1:46:22 GMT 9
Josh loved thunderstorms. Where others in his family would seek shelter during a big one, Josh would watch the light show, as well as revel in the roars of the thunder and the wind. It was part of the reason why the Surge Steppes were his home.
Their shelter was no longer safe. As the dozens of eyes from surfaces all over the abandoned tavern's basement began to shimmer, their tears fed the growing seaweed like a steady mineral rain. Seaweed began to grow through wooden planks, several of them snapping from the upward force exerted by the expanding foliage.
By the time Altair 's Greninja called out to him, the young man had been deprived of his hearing. "You don't have to--" was all that could escape his mouth before it had been sealed shut abruptly. If he didn't flee into the howling winds, he was going to be buried in seaweed and almost assuredly white out. With his eyesight starting to fade to black, too, he only had one chance.
Josh fled for his life, rain pounding at his already weak eyes. With no hearing, he couldn't even tell whether or not he had escaped by music cue. The deluge of water washed over his eyes, making it almost impossible to see after a while. Slamming into a hard object, the Swimmer fell over and landed on his back.
Little did he realize he had impacted the village archway. The impact sapped him of his strength, the rain pounding on his body as he shivered in the storm, on the very edge of the Quest's zone.
Altair
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Cardinal Glace
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Player Character
Posts: 60
Trainer Class:
Player Name: Bill Anderson
OOC Username: Ladybug
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Post by Cardinal Glace on Aug 5, 2024 14:44:15 GMT 9
The text on the journal page blended together, as if the ink is leaking from within. Circles formed, concentric and yet pinched at either end, shaped into a weeping eye that dripped dark tears.
Glace observed the eye with curiosity. He looked around at the room. Wide eyes stared back at him from corners and crevices. They opened in the seams of wood and in the trickles of rain from the leaking ceiling, only to disappear as the phantom eyelids closed once more. "What force can move the innards of these notes? Are the eyes decorative? Like a butterfly's wing spots?"
He looked back down into the note, and the inked iris moved to meet his gaze.
Glace folded the note, shoved it inside another book, and slotted that book into the bookcase. His hand shook. Not from adrenaline or fear, but from a phantom sensation. It felt as if someone were playing his muscles like harp strings, plucking them in tune to some unheard rhythm. Against his will, Glace reached again for the tome.
He balled his hands into tight fists and shoved them deep into his pockets. Pearls clattered against his knuckles. They were beastly hot.
"Celeste is it best that we start to move swiftly, I feel that-"
The pearls in his pocket exploded with light, filling the house with a glow of unknown origin. The radiance spilled through the cracks in the windows, searing under the doors and out into the unknown.
Every eye in the cabin slammed shut against the blinding light, and yet Glace had never felt more seen. The cabin had become a lighthouse, beaming warning light out into the storm to alert some distant thing to their location.
The rain grew heavier. More focused.
Seaweed slicked the floor, drawn towards the light like wet insects, and Glace threw handfuls of the clinging creature back out the door. In the mess of light, rain, and chaos, a stranger was drawn to the hut.
Glace greeted Cypress with concern and no small suspicion, eyeing the sword in her hand. "I have not strayed into the storm," he said, watching carefully for extra eyes across her body. "And in the light I find myself quite in control, if a little unsettled."
The near-stranger took a seat and began to read. Glace followed her lead and found a spot on the floor across from them. With each passing note the storm had gotten worse, as if the disaster of this village were growing to stop him finishing the story.
There was no point stopping here, no honor in fleeing before the final movement. No possible catharsis from hiding the truth from himself.
He locked eyes with Celeste. Understanding passes between them.
Glace started to read.
{Blacksmith's Papers}My scales are beautiful. Each has the bend of her face. The curve of her smile. The rings open and close and speak to me with every hammer beat. They did. But now the work is done. I have laid down my hammer. Shoved it away from my desk and buried it in salt and grime. Time is nothing. It will last. Or it won't. I will never pick it up again. There is nothing for me here. The people don't talk and I cannot listen. My ears are only for you. Only for the waters that lap against my workshop. Only for the winds that call to me on the still nights.
Each ring is clipped perfectly. My suit is complete. As gorgeous and as complete and as shining as the scales on any fish. It fits me like a breath, like a name. It sits cold and perfect and heavy against my skin. I can feel the ringscales biting against me as I walk. They nip and cut. They hate the air, impatient to return to the waters. I must go, lest my work drown around me.
I am coming, my love. I will find you under the waves.
Something heavy slide free from the last fold of note: a length of slim chain. It was silver, or may have once been, had the metal not discolored to a bismuth sheen.
"The mayor's commission," Glace said, as he admired the chain. It was thin. A necklace, perhaps. It felt cool on his skin, like a trickle of lakewater. Glace wrapped it around his hand like a set of rosary beads and bowed his head.
In the light of the pearl and under the thunder of the storm, he prayed for the soul of the missing Blacksmith.
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Celeste
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Player Character
Posts: 27
Trainer Class:
Player Name: Celeste
OOC Username: Magnere
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Post by Celeste on Aug 6, 2024 5:28:37 GMT 9
It has been quite clear for a while now that this isn't the usual threat that UNOVR has tossed at Players before. There was the corruption which also toyed at the mind and twisted emotions, but not like this. Not quite like this. Was this just, something else? Or perhaps it was corruption that had become advanced beyond what she knew?
There was no way to know, nor was there any time to debate on it when own heart seemed to beat to someone else's drum.
It caught her so off guard, her balance immediately lost as she felt her own muscles betray her, dropping her backwards onto the floor.
"No!" Celeste cried out on pure instinct, fighting to control her muscles, her mind, her body. It was if her limbs wanted to kick out, to crawl outside, but she refused. Her body already was her enemy in the world beyond, it would not be hers here too.
It was as if something else had crawled in through her pores, some essence, some being, was trying to evict her from her own flesh. An unknown intelligence that Knew her, better than she knew herself. It was the closest experience to hell that she could imagine. As if her muscles, her nerves, were all stretched out, like a puppet on a string and her attempts were only slowing down the inevitable fate that awaited her.
The eyes closed in, surronding her every direction she looked as their tears dripped and felt like they stung her skin. Seaweed spread from the floor, wrapping around her legs, as if it was going to drag her down when-
Light.
She had no time to Cardinal Glace 's words of caution as light exploded from his direction that had her covering her eyes, only to be swiftly followed by an impossibly bright light pouring from her own pockets. It was if whatever had crawled inside of her was allergic to the light, her nerves screaming in pain as she was herself again.
She was herself, but not because of her own will. It was the Light.
Celeste grabbed the Pearl from her pocket, feeling its bright light burn in her palm like it was a its own beast. Like a glimpse of the sun, blinding the Eyes, warming her soul, and drawing those in who needed its blessing too.
Cypress spoke, making her head swiftly swivle upwards to look at them. Soaked from the rain, wielding a sword in one hand. Apparently they too were trying to be dragged away, perhaps the light truly did save them.
She slowly managed back to her feet, shaky legs and all as she used the cabinets to hoist herself up. "It was as if millions of worms were crawling beneath my skin, but... I am, fine now."
Her eyes would glance over at Cardinal Glace , nodding slowly. There was no leaving this unfinished.
The House was different in the Light. She was able to see every crack in the walls, every single speck of paint, abandoned tome, ruined rugs, and faded furniture. It was as if shadows no longer existed within her sight, the Light burning them all away into nonexistence.
And yet, it was if she was somehow lead directly to the next note. Somehow, she had never seen despite it being in such an obvious position. Right atop the counter in the kitchen, the leather journal weathered and aged with time. It's spine old and worn, with ink stains on the cover and words delicately written across, as if this was once a treasured possession.
"Kara..." Celeste mumbled, brushing her fingers across the letters on the cover. The name of the author of her tales. Was this her home? Or did her things only end up here by someone else? It didn't matter. It was time to attempt to put an end to this.
Picking up the tome, Celeste found that it had been perfectly placed atop a small hole in the counter. The Light revealed what was beneath. A feather quill, the tip stained with flecks of blood.
"She wrote with this," Celeste's frown deepened, reaching within to hold it within her fingers. All the renditions of the same story, penned by this quill. A solemn weight pulled on her heart. The same quill that she couldn't stop writing with, the very same quill that tortured her so. Clutching the pearl in her hand, she'd lift it up as she flipped open the tome and began to read.
Prologue
The ocean was alive with the fury of thousands of spirits, attempting to rip and claw their way aboard the ship that sailed through the starless sky. Blood was craved, hungered for, desired, destined to be dripped amongst the waves and join them forever.
Lightning crackled across the skies like synapses of an angry god, dooming the sailors to an early grave if nothing could be done. The lone ship, barely managing to stay afloat, sailed across the foamy seas, fighting to survive against a predator that was everywhere, always, all at once, and could never be stopped. There was no path to victory, only seeing how much remains when the storm has whittled you down to your bones.
And nothing else will remain. (I have nothing left.)
Two days had passed since the rains had begun to claim the lives aboard the vessel, two days of a ceaseless downpour that soaked men to the very soul, claiming more than just flesh for itself. Two days since both the sky and the oceans declared war against man. The vessel is an abomination to the balance of the world.
It must die. (Please. Please. Please.)
(I want to be with Laura. Please let me go.)
(Can't stop. My hands write without my desire. It's like something is forcing me. I can barely stop to write these words, my words, my thoughts. Why can't I think? I have to write. Its like trying to push through a fog and- )
"Captain!" Shouted a voice aboard the deck of the ship, attempting to overpower the heavenly anger that shouted betwee the crashes of thunder. His body weak from malnutriton, one of the lucky ones to still have blood to even give left. Bruises covered his skeleton-like frame, having no strength to move on his own. Only through the desperate desire to survive that he was able to move. Unlike the rest of the skeleton crew.
"We are going to die." (I want-)
Not a single other sailor dares utter a word, not that they had the strength to do so. Only thunder breaks the silence, all as the footsteps of one man still manages to walk across the deck. Nothing more than skin and bones, but determination kept him moving. "Yes, you will die."
(No, he's supposed to live! Davy is supposed to)
"What?!" Cried the sailor who had called out, anger pooling in his gut as he stared daggers at the man he once trusted.
"The storm isn't stopping, it shows no sign of slowing down." Spoke the Captain. "Most of the crew are walking corpses, and we have long abandoned attempting to steer the vessel. We are adrift, alone, and lost at sea. We will never make it home."
(This isn't right. Davy is supposed to kill the captain. I think? I can't- I can't think. Did I mean to change the story? I remember it was a beautiful sacrifice at the start, wasn't it? It wasn't supposed to be like this. What is happening to me? Why can I only dream about the storm?)
"How dare you!" Cried the sailor, furiously struggling to stand to his feet, but the tossing waves of the storm toss him back down again.
The captain was quiet, staring up into the sky as he pondered. His beard worn and wild, stained with blood from his old wounds, and new ones. Blood dripping from above his eye like tears of something unknown blinding him. Eventually, the captain found his words again. "I dare, because I know the truth. There is no ending this storm. She is angry, and at High Tide, she won't let us leave."
"What the hell are you talking about?" The young sailor gripped hard at the railing, anger the only thing carrying him up to his legs. "It is you who doomed us! That damn treasure of yours, it has cursed us all! How dare you act like you don't care! You were once my friend!"
Silence fell over the ship. Nothing but the creaks and groans of the ship and what remained of the crew.
(I remember... Something. I remember he sacrificed himself for the others before. I think he used to be a good man. What have I done to him? Or what has he done to me?)
The captain slowly turned, his blood dripping onto the ship beneath his feet. "I am talking about the Great Mother of the Sea." He clutched his hand to his chest, his treasure never left apart. "She wants me dead, and is bringing you with me. She won't be satisfied unless I am suffering eternally. Drowning in the abyss, my lungs filled with water, forevermore."
The young sailor spits up some blood, fury rising inside him, but he was far too weak to dare do anything but speak. "May your daughter know all of your sins, may she live knowing the terrible curse you brought upon us all. And-"
"Don't you talk about her!" The Captain suddenly turned, smacking his hand across the young sailor's face. He fell to the ground, blood oozing from his head at the impact. "This isn't about her! This is about my mistakes! I am sorry you had to die, truly I am, but there is no undoing my fate. You will drown with me. If not now, one day."
All emotion was gone from the captain's voice as he approached the edge of the vessel, only silence returned to him. The young sailor could speak no more, down and out, it was only the captain left and the eyes of the dozen remaining men who had long lost their tongues to suffering.
They were in fear, silent prayers spilled from their lips.
Take this man away from us.
"Give up." He told them, shouting at the top of his lungs. "Give up. You'll be at peace when you die. Do not attempt to prolong the rest of this meaningless life. Don't you get it! There is no glory to be found in life. Only more pain."
He clutched the Ocean's Treasure even closer in his hand, his body had long since froze like that, unable to let go. His greed had damned him and everyone who had once cared about him.
This was no longer a man, but a monster. (No. No this isn't right. Please, I'll rewrite the story again. I'll do it. I am begging you. Just let me write it right. Let me make it right this time. Let me make him the good-hearted man who just made a mistake. It was never supposed to be like this.)
(I am the monster.)
(Mom and Dad are gone. They don't come over anymore. I haven't seen them since the storm hit weeks ago. I can't survive like this.)
"Only in death! Will you find peace!" The Captain cried out once more, before stepping back, and falling off the ship.
(Only in death, only in death, only in death,)
Water rushed across the captain, tossing and turning him in the waves as he was dragged along the boat, shredding his face and his flesh. Water entered his lungs, choking him of his final strength and draining him of life. The Ocean's Treasure, clutched so tightly in his palm, was ripped away by the swirling current.
The small pearl, glowing softly like the moon descended down into the depths.
The captain screamed with all that remained., fingers clawing for the treasure, desperate to grab it, hold it, keep it for himself. But it was gone, and so was the man he was.
The storm never ended. The Captains Curse would live on, forever. Bitterness, jealousy, and greed would fester within the hearts of man. That they might never live to survive a single day without suffering. Only a ship filled with broken men, and broken hearts, left to drift until their demise.
Blood and tears joined the sea that day, and nothing will ever be the same again.
Chapter One: (I will not write the next chapter. I refuse. I will not allow this obsession to control me. My fingers are going numb, I haven't eaten in days. It's like everything is too real. I'm becoming like the sailors, angry and bitter, starving. And in the end, I will be one of them. Just another doomed soul lost in the storm.
I can't take this anymore. I am losing my sense of self. I don't recognize my home, it's no longer mine. I don't recognize my name. I know what it is, but I feel so disconnected from it. Like it's not real. Like it never was real. I am losing my mind. I can't stop writing. If I stop writing in this book I'll have to start a new one. I'll have to start again. I can't do that. I can't. I refuse. I refuse.
I do not know what will become of me. But if there is any truth in this story, this fucked up insanity, there is peace in death.
Laura must be at peace. I am so glad she never suffered like me.
I should join her.
I will join her.
I must.
I don't see any other way out.
I feel like my dreams are being watched by something beyond my control, like my hands are being guided by something unseen. I can't save myself.
But I can save you.
Whoever you are.
If you find my journal, please know that I have tried to stop, but I can't. I don't have any more options anymore. I am sorry.
Leave, and never return. Don't stay here. Don't stay. This is my final story. Of that, I am making sure of.
My soul will never find peace unless I join her.
Mom, Dad, if you're still alive and reading this, I am sorry. I love you.
But I can't do this. Please hold each other tight and never let go. Never stop loving each other, and leave. Leave. Leave. leave. Leave. Leave. Leave. Can't stop writing, can't stop, can't-
The waves will welcome me with open arms, and I will allow myself to drown. I can't force my hands to pick up a knife, can't stop can't stop writing and I don't want to starve. It is the only way.
I am sorry.
Only in death will I know peace.)
Celeste closed her eyes, mourning for a soul that she had never met. There were no words. Not even the brilliant glow of Her Light could somehow push away the feeling of loss. Like she had lost a friend that she would never, ever get to know.
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Altair
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Sky Trainer
Mythstar
Posts: 485
Trainer Class:
Player Name: Evert Steilsson
OOC Username: Akivili
Arena Points: 49
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Post by Altair on Aug 6, 2024 6:00:45 GMT 9
The ‘water’ was rocking him in its depths like a baby; despite the fact that his limbs were not his own to move; the hissing in his ears only getting louder and more dissonant.
He didn’t know that the Greninja was fighting the ‘current’, trying to reach him—swimming through an indescribable, strange—
‘Wake up!’ the Greninja yelped; finally closing the distance and hanging onto the white-haired human for deer fucking life because this was getting to be too much; what was going on, why wasn’t he responding—
And then, the improbable happened.
‘Over here!’ he would yell the moment the two drifted close enough for someone else (Cypress) to grab them—well, his idiot human; he was holding onto the other as tightly as he could.
Bless his limbs being tactile enough to hang on to slippery surfaces. The amphibian Pokémon would offer assistance as much as he could, helping the wolf-lady navigate them as close to the shore as possible.
What felt like an eternity passed before the two were back on shore and into the light; and he could finally let go of his idiot human.
‘Th—thank you,’ he would stammer in the wolf-lady’s direction; however it would be another few minutes before he would finally regain consciousness; though the hissing in his ears was still erratic.
“Wh—what was that?!” he gasped, turning over and throwing up water (he didn’t dare look at the color) and continued heaving until he could breathe normally some minutes later.
“Ugh…” he groaned as he rolled away from where he’d thrown up water; that was definitely terrifying.
In all the fuss, the Greninja would notice that their first companion hadn’t followed—a good sign that they heeded his warning. He… he would need to talk to Josh Devlin in private later about this madness that was unfolding.
‘I found this,’ he would continue, handing a strangely-immaculate piece of paper that had been wedged into the ‘scarf’ he wore around his neck. ‘I don’t know how it didn’t get wet despite us diving into the water.’
“Wait, water?”
‘Long story,’ the amphibian would continue; before he snatched the paper and saw…
{oh, milo} chliE
chliE
…chARliE, Ou aSS.
Ow cOuld Ou Ot cOme with uS
uS!
dOwn intO the wAteR, yOu cOwarD.
whERE wE All belOng!
“…what the fuck happened to Milo,” he would say at last, as he had to puzzle through some of the misspellings to pick out what it said.
note found & I give up that puzzle is impossible | Josh Devlin & Cypress
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Laguna
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World Traveler
Mythstar
Posts: 469
Trainer Class:
Player Name: Abigaelle Gauthier
OOC Username: Magnere
Arena Points: 0
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Post by Laguna on Aug 9, 2024 11:50:58 GMT 9
One leaves. The Unknown One. The Empty lingers on, but beyond its grasp, the Unknown One is safe.
The sky almost seems more welcoming beyond the village, the rain less intrusive, the lightning calmer. Beyond the village limits, the world seems far safer than whatever is within. And yet, eyes are opened to the truth. Perhaps it is simply safer to just, Forget. To not know what horrors lay beyond the realm of the visible, and the Known. Perhaps it is simply the best, safest case, to leave.
And yet, The Empty will not truly forget the Unknown. The Light House. A beacon of Safety. Security. Serenity. Beyond the winds howl, clutching at window frames, doorways, and cracks like wild beasts demanding entrance. Her Light denies them, refuses them, repels them.
The Empty can not be Furious, it can not Be anything, it refuses to be anything. And yet, it demands of you. It demands sacrifice. It demands repercussions. It demands suffering. Weeds crawl everywhere shadows remain, slowly surrounding the building as if it could strangle the life from within.
Within Her Light, The Known stand together. Trapped but not alone. Contained and yet free. Doomed and yet saved. Her Eyes glimmer brightly, Possessions of the Doomed shimmering with an echo, as if they both welcomed and feared the light. The Empty can not crawl within, it's reach can not stretch to where Hers remains. Two forces forever opposed. Two concepts repelled from one another.
But that does not stop One from attempting to invade the safe haven.
Lightning cracks and blinds those who remain, thunder echoes and deafens those who remain, as wood splinters in huge pieces, the Light House has been breached. The roof damaged, exposed, leaking in the piercing rains from above. The sky exposed, an eye of intensive proportions forming within the clouds, demanding silence.
It Demands.
Tumbling from the damaged roof, tucked away, falls amidst the Four who are Known. A Fifth Note for all to share. A new Author, a new presence. A leather tome, wrapped in cloth, and written in blood and ink both. It was as if it was Her response to the damage, to the violence. Her final gift.
Understanding.
I can feel myself losing my mind, it's insidious. It's like a worm borrowing into my skull, betraying how I think, how I act, how I feel. It's terrifying, and I've watched my closest friends and family all fall to it.
Whatever It is, I can't say. I don't know. These things seem to defy definition. It's like a predator, preying on our worst fears, but even that isn't true. It's like nature running its course, taking what it is owed, but that again remains untrue.
It simply is.
I would be completely gone if I didn't meet Her.
She has taught me how to combat it. I see her in my dreams, I can't explain it, I simply know that it is true. That these are facts that I simply can't deny. Maybe She is like It, but I can't prove it. Maybe She is just as dangerous as It. But at least with Her, I can keep my mind. I am me. Or at least, so I think that I am Me. And that is enough for now.
Written within the pages of this tome is a Ritual that I was shared long ago. My poor home is gone, among with everything that I had. And yet, I am Me.
If you want to remain as You, you should do as I inscribe. It might even help Them become as They should be.
-Wickman. Your Former Lighthouse Keeper.
Firstly. Construct a circle upon solid ground, for which the Qestkh will be taking place. Carvings or Mkejs works best. In the Akrs, blotr yltq sdltcdsr upon Knowledge as you construct a Moon. In the West, push your mind to embrace what mkrrelj er, kjw oljrsqtos k Rtj Form Stars within as you dwell on the nature of Willpower. Then, you must pray for her Ctewejc Hecds, and it shall glow brightly for you.
Secondly. Climb within the Circle, and once you begin wl jls hakua es. Crush daq Ayar to a fine dust within as many glasses as you need. Mix with ashes of the Wlliawr Sdltcdsr. Save some for later. A drop of blood must be gathered from all present, mixed. Ylt vehh na nljwaw, sdaqa er jl lsdaq vky. And finally, add Water of the Ajaiy and watch as the mixture glows.
Thirdly. Scratch out Its Ayar. They remain even when hidden, you must nhejw sdai. Bind your hands in the vaawr of the enemy, and grip fire within your hands. Say the Dewwaj Vlqwr aloud, and you shall not be harmed. Reach out and touch all the walls of the odkinaq ylt kqa vesdej. Set it ablaze. Watch as her Light protects the Qestkh.
Fourthly. Create an Ejrsqtiajs, something of your own heart, your desires. What you want. Not vdks kjylja ahra vkjsr. Wtrs es vesd the remains of the ashes. Play to the naks lb yltq lvj dakqs, an original rljc that you feel is true. Music calls her to this realm, but then you must okhh tmlj Daq Sesha sdks rda iecds rdlv.
Lastly, All present must Confess Who You Are. Wabeja Yltqrahb. Do not allow It to rid you of that.
Then, confess Who You Know. Wabeja Sdai. Ceua Sdai iakjejc kckej. Bond their Rlthr with Yours. There is no other way.
And then Wqejg. OOC Notes: Players must follow these guidelines for the next reply.
There will be Two Posts required this Round. One will be setting up the Qestkh, and must be done in order. The second, requires no order, and must be done after the Qestkh has begun. Players are expected to work together to resolve the Puzzle. Use everything you've learned!
First:
Find the Tome Choose One of Four Main Steps Follow them.
Second:
Find Yourself. Find Them.
Wqejg.
Optimal Mood Music
Deadline is August 22nd, 11:59 PM EST
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Cardinal Glace
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Player Character
Posts: 60
Trainer Class:
Player Name: Bill Anderson
OOC Username: Ladybug
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Post by Cardinal Glace on Aug 12, 2024 17:27:35 GMT 9
The four of them gathered, no longer alone in the light of the pearls. Glace cracked the tome and together they read the twisted words inside.
Despite the broken and shifted words, there was something intelligible about them. Something innate that the four of them, now known, could follow.
"We have little choice," said Glace, as the storm slammed against the walls and ruptured the ceiling. Water splattered the flooring, and he moved to a dry corner away from the spreading liquid. "We must begin the Qestkh as soon as possible."
Following the directions in the book, Glace looked around for some Mkejs. There was none in easy reach, and with the storm in full flow carving the circle sounded more reliable.
Using a discarded knife he set to work, scratching a near-perfect circle into the flooring. He brushed away the curls of wood. "That will have to do."
In the Akrs of the circle he settled his sdltcdsr upon Knowledge. "Come!" he called, and Popplio slithered down from the rafters to coil in the damp air before him. The Pokemon shed pale snow as easily as the sun sheds light, and Glace packed it together with snow-red hands.
"To Know something is to understand its spirit. Its material. Its purpose and destiny. To Know yourself is to be truthful, perceptive, and both disconnected and fiercely internal. To Know someone else is to break them down to such a level that no possible secret could exist between you. And to Be Known is to be completely at the mercy of the other, held in their hand and mind like a cluster of snowflakes."
He pressed the last handful of snow into the ball, and a gleaming ice moon now hung before him in the air.
In the West, fire sparked in the form of a candle. A simple light, that Glace drew upwards and outwards, growing it into a roiling ball of flame.
"Passion is a measure of our willingness to overcome obstacles between us and our purpose. It is the fuel that propels up towards our self-made targets. Without passion we are dead in the water, skewered by the slightest opposition. Passion is the difference between holding the Sun in your hand, or it being forever beyond your reach."
With the sphere of flame now equal to the Moon, Glace moved his blistered hands away from the Rtj.
Glace closed his eyes and opened his awareness, picturing fleeting constellations of stars blinking on and off in the sky, like eyes shining from far away.
"Willpower is the partner to Passion. It is the internal to the external. For where Passion may be sparked and fed from the outside by support of motivation, it is our Willpower that dwelt within us all along. Willpower is the extra gear you knew you had all along. It is the firm grip around the wrist of the universe as you say "I'm in control now". Willpower is not the push or the shove, but the final blow that ends the battle."
As he spoke, stars of his own will brightened and refused to dim again. They filled the cabin with a strange glow, and all watching could tell that they were fueled by shining, pure lights from deep within Glace himself.
Glace drew himself up, pearl clutched in his hands. "But all of that means nothing if you do not Know your goal. You must have a purpose! A focus! Something to hone your Passionate towards. Something for the stars of your Willpower to illuminate."
"It all means nothing without a Ctewejc Hecds."
"So guide us!" he shouted, thrusting his hands upwards and letting the light of the pearl mingle with the gleam of the Stars, Rjt, and Moon.
"Guide us through your light so that we may follow it into the next dawn!"
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Altair
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Sky Trainer
Mythstar
Posts: 485
Trainer Class:
Player Name: Evert Steilsson
OOC Username: Akivili
Arena Points: 49
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Post by Altair on Aug 17, 2024 5:39:24 GMT 9
Swimmer he may be, he still felt absolutely bedraggled and waterlogged (how ironic) as he felt the warmth—wait. Wait, wait, hold the fuck up a diddly jackass second—
Why did this place remind him of a certain…
“Everyone,” he would begin quietly.
“…I just realized what this entire thing reminded me of. I don’t know if you all know H.P. Lovecraft, but—”
‘You might want to talk about your observation later!’ he heard Hanzo holler at him as the first part of the qestkh had already happened and now it was…
It was their turn.
“I’ll… I’ll do this,” he would volunteer himself, because what other choice was there? He definitely was not going to let either of the two ladies that were part of this strange little coven get tainted by whatever the hell presence was going to come screaming down inside the circle—
‘You. You can’t step outside once you go in. Are you sure?’ the Greninja would ask.
“I have no other choice,” he continued; this strange, quiet determination burning within that stare he gave the Greninja as he took a deep breath and stepped inside the circle.
“Hanzo, help me from out there, will you?”
‘As much as I can,’ the amphibian Pokémon would nod. The Greninja would then calmly observe the other three—one of them had such a regal air about themselves, which piqued his curiosity.
(Oh, if only he knew about this person’s colorful history in another world across the ocean.)
“Oh, and—sorry if you have to bring everything inside here for me.”
‘I live to help you no matter what you need,’ the amphibian Pokémon would continue; watching quietly as he began making gestures towards the ‘eyes’ before motioning in a circle—which meant every single one they could provide.
‘Sorry, but I’m going to need the eyes first,’ the Greninja would apologize as he held out his frog-arms for the ‘eyes’, the better for everyone present to give as many as they could pile onto him to then pass towards Altair, who awaited with a mortar and pestle (how convenient) at hand.
“Get me four glasses. Not five, Hanzo. Four,” he would continue as he set to work crushing the ‘eyes’.
While he was doing this, the Greninja would noiselessly move around; gathering the items needed for the next part—four glasses which were then passed to him inside the circle; he had to be very careful to not have any part of himself pass the ‘border’.
Crush, crush, crush—painstakingly, slowly, he would fill each of the four glasses with the fine powder.
‘Do you need the stove ready?’
“Please.”
Another gesture—it was like he was a man possessed—and the frog Pokémon would approach everyone else assembled; holding out his ‘hands’ before saying just one word, ‘Notes’, and hoped they understood what he wanted.
Unlike the first part of the ritual, where everyone heard the words spoken aloud—the second part of the ritual was speaking quietly; directly into Altair’s (and Hanzo’s by extension) subconscious; telling them what they needed to do.
The glasses had been filled with the dust; now the Greninja was busy burning the papers he’d collected by the nearby stove down into ashes—yes, even the notes that he’d kept safe in that unusual ‘scarf’ of his—until the paper was gone and nothing but a pile of ashes remained.
All those papers, incinerated… but they needed to save some; so two handfuls would cross the border of the circle as his hand unknowingly reached for it and added them to the glasses.
Honestly, the mixture looked unpalatable; but they had to keep going, there was no stopping—
The rest of the ashes had been secured by the Greninja, and now, now—
“A knife,” he would call out from within the circle; before handing it pommel-side first to the Greninja to take out of the ritualistic space before the amphibian made his rounds again; quiet gesturing for a drop of their blood to be stained on the blade.
Said blade would make it was way back inside the circle shortly; and he would add his own blood to the mix—in the light of the ritual it looked like some kind of otherworldly liquid that would bind them all together.
Together.
Once the blood had been equally spread across all four glasses; each glass would be handed to the Greninja—not for the Water-type’s own water; but for the water lapping at the shores of where they were gathered.
“Careful not to spill a drop,” he would warn the Greninja from inside the circle; this part would take the longest as each glass had to be filled carefully without spilling their respective contents.
Once all four glasses had been returned to him within the circle; they began to glow…
“Go!” he would shout from inside the circle.
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Celeste
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Player Character
Posts: 27
Trainer Class:
Player Name: Celeste
OOC Username: Magnere
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Post by Celeste on Aug 17, 2024 7:00:56 GMT 9
A Qestkh. She understood. Somehow, someway, her mind made the unconscious connections of what the writings said even long before she could consciously. It was as if the acts she needed to do were simply gifted to her. Knowledge was a gift, a tool to be used wisely, but also a danger. To Know was to be Seen. To be Seen was to be in Danger. But to be in Danger, was to be Alive.
A knife grabbed from the Kitchen would be procured, moving towards the walls. She had a task to do. She must nhejw sdai, the Ayar. She wasted no words, taking her blade and digging it into the wood and the drywall, making huge slashing motions to drag along the walls. A threat that could not be challenged by conventional means alone, proper precautions must be put into place.
Her knife dragged through the wood like an inexperienced butcher catching on some bone, ripping and struggling with all her weight to rip it out. As the Qestkh began, a circle formed, Moon, Rtj, and Stars, Celeste turned her attention back to books within the room.
It was impossible to scratch out every single Aya. There were too many, their Presence too far-reaching. Whatever they might be. But, she supposed, that was what the fire was for in the end. To catch everything that remained.
She'd grip the knife within her hands, firmly slashing her blade across leather and paper. This time, with more precision. No longer a butcher, but a surgeon. Carefully plucking out each and every single Aya that might dare to return and show its face once the dawn comes.
It was finally her turn.
Dropping the knife atop the ground, her own blood spilling from her palm after offering her blood for the drinks, she'd reach out to grab the vaawr of the enemy. The writhing, tentacle-like vaawr wrapped around her hands like were trying to strangle her, but they had no power in this place. She felt their movements weaken in the glow of the circle.
"For there are many things unknowable within this realm, and the realms beyond." Celeste would speak, her steps careful and precise as she began to walk over towards the wood stove. The flames still burning, but just barely. "For us as Man, shall never perceive the confines upon which we live. The truth is forever lost to us, no matter how hard, how desperate we remain to search for it. For in life, there is rarely such things as Permanent Truths."
She stepped forwards some more, eyes gazing upon the flames. Watching it burn, brighter and brighter as if in anticipation of her task. "The Truth is what we make of it. Our perception is what shapes reality. For it is through belief that we make things True for ourselves, and what is True for us is not always True for others."
"One can not accomplish impossible deeds, without first being foolish enough to believe they are possible. And what other place, defines such Truths?" Celeste would lean down near the stove, gripping a wooden log in her wrapped arms, shoving it into the stove to let the flames truly rise high. "This is a world, a reality, where men, women, and children, are capable of their wildest dreams. Bonding with creatures of our imagination, flames dripping from our fingers and fighting Gods as if we are somehow their equal. These things hold power over us, because we believe them to."
"This Threat we face now, also holds these same Truths. It holds power, because we can not fathom a reality where it does not. But there is one Truth, that I will always hold near and dear to my heart." The Dewwaj Vlqwr had been on her mind ever since she glimpsed them between the lines, the words, the intent. She understood. The Truth. The only Truth that mattered, and always would matter. Truths may come and go, but this one would always remain the same, so long as she believed with every ounce of her being.
She was never going to be something else. She might change, she might grow, but she would always be-
"I know who I am. And I know who I always will be." The fire roared in response, and a smile crossed across her painted lips as she reached into the flames. "I am me."
"I am always me."
Orange and red dances across the vaawr around her hands, flames burning away. Water is wicked away, dried instantly as she pulls her hands back. The weeds are burning, falling off in large chunks, but flames continue to flciker across her fingertips with nary a single second of pain. Her skin did not burn, only a vessel for the holy flames.
The fire did not harm her, because she knew that it would not.
She'd step back, placing her hands upon the walls of the odkinaq without a second thought. They erupted in purifying heat, so intense they'd evaporite the rain dripping in from above before it could even land. It was time for this whole place to be lit on fire, to save them.
She'd walk along the walls, dragging her fingers across them as she moved. It was if they hadn't been soaking in the horrific waters of this ruined town for generations, and had instead been dried out in the sun for just as long, ready to be ignited. Heat erupted up the sides from where her fingers touched, dancing across the ceiling as the entire place was swiftly engulfed in flames. There would be no leaving this place.
She stood at the edge of the Qestkh circle, looking up as the flames continued to rise. They continued to grow bigger and brighter, until their brightness seemed to defy all logic.
But Logic had no purpose here, or perhaps it never did. Only Truth. And this was True right now. Her Presence, Her Light shone bright from within, illuminating the place like dancing across the surface of the sun.
And it was glorious.
Her hands still aflame, she'd press them together in a silent prayer.
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