Post by Anthony on Nov 2, 2023 13:29:44 GMT
The noise is unbearable. The soft rumble of shifting earth, spilling and falling… as if a vast amount of sand where being poured onto the floor. It's everywhere, all around her as she hugs her legs in the middle of her room. No, it’s not her room now… The door is gone, half the bed is inside the wall. The table is slowly disappearing. Everything is covered in silt and dust and she doesn't see a way out. This isn’t her room anymore. It’s being taken, consumed by something.
She had thought to hide in the cupboard but she opened it to find the back already gone, a cascade of fresh soil spilling out around her feet. In panic, she tried digging her way out, hopelessly clawing at the ground and walls, pulling back handfuls of earth and stones but never seeming to make any progress, only adding to the collection of dirt around her. Her cries for help go unanswered, her escape has been taken, she falls into a stupor and sits on the floor, hugging her legs tightly, eyes shut. If she can’t see what’s happening, it can’t really be happening. Maybe if she just tries hard enough to ignore it, it will go away…. But she can’t keep out the sound. The rasping shifting sound of loose soil as it piles around her, clinging to her body, trying to swallow her up without a trace, slowly being buried until-
There’s a scream, followed immediately by a second and a loud clattering as the acolyte falls backwards, dropping the plate. Breakfast is on the floor, again. Sweating and panting, Sod realises she is still in the Temple of Selune and has scared another acolyte silly with her nightmares
“NOOOOOOO, I’M SORRY” she continues screaming as she launches herself off the bed to try and be helpful, only making more mess in the process.
***
Daring Heights, Temple of Selune
After an hour of the tiny Kobold desperately following him around, asking to help and inevitably making everything take twice as long as normal, the acolyte has finally managed to shake Sod off his tail. Sister Velania would scold him, he knew, but there is only so much eager interfering assistance you can take in one day, and Sod is an entire day’s worth in 10 minutes.
This leaves Sod free again, to wander the temple and find something to keep herself busy. And she needs to be busy. Otherwise she starts thinking about her old home again, the walls coming in… She shakes her head to push the memory away as she enters the main chamber in the temple. As she has every day for the last few weeks, she eventually finds herself kneeling in her usual spot - a small alcove to one side of the main worship chamber where the temple’s latest resident (beside herself) rests.
He sits slightly off the floor with a view of the temple, his glistening golden body sparkles in the light that falls through the high windows and casts an air of radiance around him as he shifts and fidgets occasionally. He would look radiant, were it not for his mangled and injured manifestation: Half a face, only part of his jaw intact, a gaping maw in his side showing golden bone and organs within, his arms and legs missing, ending in truncated open wounds of gold. She knows she can not communicate with this Golden figure but he always watches her with interest when she comes and talks about her thoughts and feelings.
Soon, others would begin to gather around the Golden figure. She had been surprised when they first came and began asking questions but Sod was just happy, finding herself meeting all kinds of new friends. People interested in her and Goldbody. They ask her who he is and what he does, what he thinks and feels. She, of course, doesn’t know but she thinks she can intuit his feelings - she herself has spent hours talking to him so it stands to reason she must understand him too! She’s doing a service really! He must be so bored up there, she keeps him company and all these people who come to visit, they leave looking so happy with the stories she tells.
Then the gifts started. At first, it was the odd coin and trinket, a nice robe for Sod to wear, some food or a wine flask here and there but when a small golden clasp was presented and merged into Goldbody, sending a ripple through his form, then Gold was the only gift people brought. Small rough chunks, bent coins, brooches, jewellery, powders. The quiet corner was now a small glistening shrine to Goldbody and the quiet place she came to speak with him.
Sod had decided that she liked Goldbody. He listened. He was always happy to see her, and he always seems so very happy when people bring him presents.
Witching Court, The Ancient Stone Circle of the Ebon Expanse
The stones stand where they have for centuries now, their tall figures cutting stark shadows in the grass between them from the moonlight above. It is, as usual, a full moon today. The same way it always is in the eternal night of the Witching court. Today, though, is special, and the circle sees its first visitors appear for quite some time, struggling loudly through the dense foliage at the edges of the clearing
“Huff - huff - Tell me again - huff - Why couldn’t we just fly out here? OR TELEPORT for that matter. It’s not like we - OW, damn branch - It’s not like we can’t?”
Hakard has not stopped complaining. The Eladrin was newer to this than everyone else going to be involved in the ritual but he was keen to make a name for himself here. It’s not everyday you’re asked to lead this ritual, let alone take part. Not that he was totally sure what this ritual was mind you. Helping tame and hold… something or other. It doesn’t matter, what matters was how he managed himself in the ritual itself.
“Gods knows…” Urisalor gasps for breath as he falls to his hands and knees at the edge of the clearing, “I’m not built for walking. She probably just told us to walk to make us suffer again”
“Moon above.. 3 days! 3 days walking and now you’re saying we might not have needed to!? Will you keep your sadistic crap to yourself, why am I being dragged into this? She isn’t my patron!”
“I - huff - don’t want this either… who knows, maybe there is something about…. Not being able to just shift here?”
On cue, there is a large plume of dust and smoke erupts in the centre of the circle as a group of Witching court notables appear via Teleportation. A particularly beautiful Elf with platinum hair looks over at Urisalor crawling out of the brush at the edge of the circle with mild disdain, “You’re late!”
Gasping still, Urisalor answers rudely “We were here first!”
“And you’re still late! Come on - I need to get everyone setup then get back to the Court.”
“What? You aren’t even taking part in this one?”
“No, of course not, I’ll be helping the Queen. You just needed to bring him” Xantha nods to the Eladrin behind Urisalor
Hakard’s face flushes red and he shifts to his summer form in a rising rage as Urisalor falls prone in defeat, “Now see here Xantha, I don’t know what kind of game you think you’re playing but if you-”
“ANYWAY, I really need to get going so just don’t screw this up! Flax here has the details so just make sure you follow them to the letter. And send that idiot back to the Palace when your done with him”
As quick as she arrived, Xantha Addington is gone, leaving a bemused group amid the ancient stone circle, rage still creeping ever more into Hakards face as he begins to go on a self fuelling tirade, cursing Xantha to anyone and everything in audible range.
As this goes on, the shy Satyr referred to as Flax heads over to one of the nearby stones, smaller than those either side of it with a deep crack running through. They furiously scan their notes before seeming to make a decision, a grave look on their face.
“Umm, the notes we were given don’t say anything about the stones being cracked? Is that alright? Ummm…. Is… ”
But no one answers. They think to bring it up to Hakard but he doesn't look keen on talking details right now and they did need to get started. Maybe it's not important...
Port Ffirst, The Sewers
It likes it here.
It is much better than the wild lands, where It could only prey on the animals and sporadic travellers. There were just so many people here. So much opportunity. And better yet, these people have made a warren beneath their very feet. Somewhere It can slip away and skulk around in. Twisting tunnels and grates It can effortlessly glide between. Endless spots to wait. To watch. To creep closer as someone passes by alone and slip into their shadow. Pressing towards them, enveloping their space. Close enough to see the hair on their necks stand on end right before the panic sets in. That dead weight that creeps through their veins and makes the body ache, their hearts aflutter, skin tingling. Something is behind them…
Some of them run. Some scream and drop to the floor, Others even turn to see their assailant, the predator in the dark. These ones are It’s favourite. They spin, eyes wide, fists clenched ready to defend themselves…
Only to see there is nothing there. Just the empty street. Or the empty room they just snuffed a candle out in. They might laugh, or scold themselves. But the fear is still there. And that is delicious. The fear that there is always Something there, lurking at the edge of perception. Too far to see but just close enough to touch you.
It ripples with delight at its latest escapades before slipping into another tunnel beneath the bustling port town. Blissfully unaware of Its own lurking assailant.
It’s far too late when It realises and this creature has It cornered, trapped somehow. It screams and pushes at the restraints to no avail as the figure comes into view. A person! It writhes in disgust at being apprehended by this figure as it starts talking about It. No, to It. They seem interested in It…
He kneels down in front of it, dressed in Grey robes with a wide brimmed, tattered black hat atop his head, but It cannot see their face. Only a wooden mask with a symbol carved in.
Witching Court, Mountain palace, Inside the Floating Melon Shop
“I-I-I-I really think we should go in there and find her now…. It’s uh… it’s been a long time! What if she’s hurt or-or-or… uhhh, I don’t know, lost?”
“Lost? Really? It’s only a basement Ella, she can hardly get lost now. Besides, I tol’ her not ta interfere. She wandered in of her own accord, I’m sure she can find a way out”
The young man wails with stress again as Dr. Killian turns back again to the Goblin on the other side of the counter, “you’re still here?”
“Uh, Well… yeah? I was told you had something I could use as a power - ummm, is everything alright? Is someone missing?”
“YES!”
“NO! Ellen I told you it’s handled, will ye have some faith already”
“B-b-but how? Jyndeath or Jeandif, whatever her name is! She isn't back yet! It’s been weeks! Something’s happened to her! What if she has a f-f-f-family? They’ll come looking!”
“It’s been handled!”
The young man lets out another wail and begins pacing behind the counter again.
This was not quite what Mot had anticipated coming to the Floating Melon but, in fairness, she had been warned he was eccentric. The rotund cat that was eyeing her from the side was beginning to make her feel uncomfortable as well. Sitting on the table next to the-
“Wait, is that pen writing on its own?”
“Sorry, no visitors today!”
“....It’s Still me?”
“Who?”
“Sh-sh-sh-She came for spring”
“Wait, you’re still here?”
“Still!? You’ve barely said a word to me since I got here!”
“S-s-sorry, here, let me get it for you”
“Don’t apologise Eugene! Not our fault if she can’ follow simple instructions”
“I didn’t GET any instructions! I jus-” Mot is growing increasingly aggravated and stops a moment to consider her position before turning to Ella… or Eugene… whatever the boy’s name is, “- I was only sent here as you might have something I could use?”
“W-w-we do,it’s just here”
The young man scurries to a shelf behind the door that on closer inspection is actually-
“Why is the name Eric carved out of the wall?”
“OH! Uhhh… it’s my name, a friend of mine put it there.”
“But he called you - No, never mind, I don’t think I need to know…”
Eric, takes off a small glass jar from inside the ‘C’ and very carefully pulls out a very small, slightly bent and rusted spring. He hands it to Mot with great delicacy and care. “Aaaaaa-PLEASE be careful with it. It’s - it’s - it’s much stronger than it looks”
Mot takes the spring and looks highly confused for a long moment while the boy Eric puts the jar back just as there is a small pop on the counter top where Killian is poking something with a toothpick, causing many more toothpicks to appear and begin piling up from…. somewhere?
“S-s-so, what are you, uh, making anyway?”
The question snaps Mot out of her stupor. “Oh, a, uh…. A catapult…. Big one. Are you sure this is going to be enough?”
“Oh, uh, yes! Yeah that will uh… th-th-that’ll more than do it. C-catapult? Um, What are you using it for? If you’re not careful, that thing will send it to the moon!”
Mot pauses a second before answering, “Oh, I think the moon will be fine, but… really, this?” she says, holding the spring up again, causing a violent flinch from Eric
“PLEASE be careful with that… a-a-and yeah, that’ll do it. Uh, ummmm…. N-need some help making the catapult? A wooden one will fall apart with that in it.”
Mot looks from Eric to the continuing series of tiny toothpick explosions that Killian is now desperately trying to contain inside a… napkin?
“No, I… I think I’m fine, thanks.”
Vorsthold, City Gates
"Lieutenant Ummond Steelgrace, Vorstcore 2nd Division, Kimberlite Squad, reporting in, sir!"
"At ease, Steelgrace."
Ummond relaxes his posture and beams at his old friend and commander. Now the formalities are over he can greet him properly - with a hearty handshake. In private of course, it wouldn't be proper to let his subordinates see him so carefree.
"So? How bad is it? Drink?
"Thank you, sir", Ummond accepts the mug and dutifully sips it, truly a testament to the trust and comfort he has around his commanding officer. You can never be too careful in Vorsthold, the dangers of Mindflayers and Beholders are a daily occurrence and you must keep your wits about you. In this special case though, he could accept one small scandalous mug of water.
"Another attack during the night, sir. Beholder at the forward fortifications. Seven injured, three of those left mobile. The others we made makeshift cots on a wagon to transport back sir."
"Everyone safely back in Vorsthold?"
"Everyone accounted for sir. All expected to make a swift recovery ready for redeployment, sir."
"Excellent work Ummond. Now, what's this request for supplies I've seen come through?"
"Repairs to the wagon sir. Davis managed to clip the walls of the tunnel and snapped the rear axle. No more than an hour to repair but some basics require restocking, sir"
The commanding officer bristles, "Clip the walls? I trust he's been reprimanded for such careless behaviour?"
"Yes sir."
"Any explanation for how this happened?"
"Claims the tunnel was smaller than it was before sir."
The two share a serious conspiratorial look, both indicating their lack of faith in this answer.
"Well, all in hand I see. Anything else to report?"
"Yes sir, Continued noise and rumbling from beneath the ground. We had considered perhaps a Worm was approaching but nothing ever appeared, nor were there any signs of new tunnels opening up. If you’ll excuse my being candid sir, it was certainly causing one hell of a racket… Sir.”
The commander raises a bushy eyebrow at Ummond, wondering if he has maybe been a little too lax of late with his friend and Lieutenant.
“Yes, well, be sure your squad doesn’t see such behaviour. Dismissed”
Port Ffirst, Old Town, Seashank
The usual crowd is in today, nursing their slimy beers and watching today’s entertainment unfold. A gnome, locally known as Reg jumps onto his usual stool and asks the others perched at the bar for the rundown. The lanky man on his left, also known as Reg, leans down and gives him the scoop - “mmm well, this Dwarf ere, uh, Bosun or sumsuch on the Exploit out in the harbour is giving this lad ere in the corner a hard time, summint about seein summint in the water an now his too shook to go back aaht. An the tall lad is tryin' ta stoppit"
Reg, the smaller, grabs his pint and settles in as the Dwarf across the room lets out another noisy rant.
“Honestly, who ever heard of a Sea-Elf that was afraid of swimming!?” The aforementioned Dwarf calls out, amongst a spray of crystallised sea salt breaking off of his rigid beard as he speaks.
“Gal, there ain’t a need to-”
“Na, he won’t even step foot back on the Docks now, let alone the ship. It’s been a week already! We’re supposed to leave tomorrow! Man sees a fish and thinks it’s the end!”
“He knows what a fish is”
“IT WEREN’T A FISH!” - The once-sailor in the corner, the subject of the conversation, speaks up.
“Oho! Well, then Morren, come on! What was it? What's got ya so shook ya given up on sailing? What terror got you so shookup eh? Not a Dragon Turtle, that's for sure. A Leviathan maybe? A STARFISH!? What have you seen that I ain't, huh!?"
Morren has a dark look across his face but doesn’t answer, instead choosing to focus on the bottom of his mug. He looks every bit the broken man sitting in the corner. It’s faint but even he can just make out the whispers of the audience from across the room as they comment on his lack of response.
“Come on! He knows a fish! Something happened down there and shook him up, you can’t fault a man his fears”
“No but I can fault em when it don’t make sense!”
“Gareth! I get it but you saw him, he looked terrified - you can’t make him do it so just leave him be”, The Half-Orc, Mak, trying to stop the berating finally starting to lose his cool.
“Gods, I can’t even begin to understand it, how does he -” The tirade fades off as the Dwarf and Boatswain of the Merchant Ship; ‘Exploit’, passes out the doors of the Seashank.
The conclusion of the berating seems to settle some sort of debate amongst the audience, triggering a series of nods and conspiratorial whispers from the bar that only intensify as Mak glares at them before rounding on Morren,
“Mate, come on - I want to help but you need to speak up and tell me what happened.”
“I can’t Mak - I can’t go back out there”
“I’m not making you mate, but please - just…. What happened? I know you dived under the ship to look for repairs, the next thing I know they’re dragging you out and your screaming-"
Morren shudders violently at the unwelcome memories, “Mak I- I can’t. There’s just… There’s just…. There’s something there.”
“Like what? A shark, Dragon-Turtle? We were in the har-”
“No. I…. I don’t know. It was just… too big. Too much. There was just, too much of it out there. Watching me, reaching for me… there's something out there Mak. Something out there. I can't go again…"
Mak’s face falls, as his friend returns to staring in silence into his mug. It is gut wrenching seeing this happen to him and not knowing what to do. The Exploit leaves tomorrow but it looks like the two will be staying here now. He can't leave him like this.
“Jedd, Chuck us another 2 beers here mate.”
Witching Court, The ruins of Haspar knoll, Snail Hotel
Pixis, a solitary curl of her ginger hair hanging over her face, blankly stares across the table and deep into the eyes of Celia, almost boring their way through the back of the Diviner's skull, “What are you going on about?”
She expected this. Celia herself wasn’t too sure what to think and her new companions, talented as they were, were not the most helpful at times. Sitting in their usual booth of the hotel bar she had been trying to explain this for about 10 minutes now.
Her other companion, The Goblin / Trinket Hag Ulrich runs his hand through his oiled hair as he sighs, “So… what is it exactly?”
“No, that’s just it, she just called it ‘The Something’. They had it living under their stairs apparently and… well, I presume it escaped when the house was destroyed”
“The. Something. That sounds stupid”
Ulrich glares at Pixis, having scolded her 4 times today already for such outbursts. She responds accordingly by sneering back.
Celia is forced to wrangle their attention back again - “The Haspar Knoll hags seemed to think it was quite important at any rate from what I can tell of what little notes remain. I think Lillian might have been feeding it cakes so it must be alive I guess, though she mentions Pearl talking about it like it wasn’t really alive? It’s a little confusing.”
“So… the pet escaped?”
“ugh, pets.”
“Ummm…. I’m not sure? Feels like an odd pet… ‘The Something’...
There is a moments silence as the three look at each other. Ulrich finally breaks the moment - “So? I was just about to have a Bath! Why are we going over this?
“Oh! Yes, sorry, The Queen wanted to talk about it”
“NICNE - cough, I mean, The Copper Queen spoke to you? When? She was here!?” Pixis bursts out, barely controlling her excitement and outrage at missing the Queen.
“Well, No not yet - I saw she would talk to us about it so I thought we should start looking into it”
“OH WHEN?”
“Now” - A fourth voice joins the discussion from somewhere above the trio. All three crane their necks to see their Queen standing behind them, her statuesque form framed in her copper curls, as beautiful as she is imposing. Pixis gently squeals as she hides her face from blushing in excitement as Ulrich jumps to his feet to bow. Celia is, despite expecting the arrival, still caught off guard and sits dumbfounded a moment as the Queen sweeps around the group.
“The Something.”
“Y-Yes your majesty… WE, um… aren’t really sure what it is but-” Celia is stopped in her train of thought as the Queen smiles at her.
“I know what it is. This Something is lonely - Something that’s scared of isolation and being forgotten, yet drives itself further away despite itself. Something that drives everyone it meets to segregate themselves from their loved one - feeding on their agony and suffering as they spiral into it, consuming them, becoming them. Lillian the Dreamer managed to soothe its pain but I instructed her to send it home, not keep it here.”
Ulrich looks up, “Forgive me my Queen, but… ‘this’ something? Are there more?”
Nicnevin’s mossy eyes seem to lock onto his, despite having no iris or pupil and sends a shiver down his spine, “The Something is an aspect of existence and how it is perceived, experienced. There are countless aspects but not all are Something. And now The Something Lonely is loose, the others are acting out."
“W-what would you have us do?” Celia manages
Again, The Queen's mossy eyes seem to flick over them with any sign of moving, but Celia feels them on her, the energy radiating from her presence makes the hairs on her arms stand on end.
“You three have taken responsibility here while Lillian, Pearl and Beulah are away. Now it’s your responsibility. Find it.” There is something very final about the soft way she spoke these words that chills Celia’s Bones.
“Ah yes, of course. As you wish my Queen. However, and forgive me for asking but would… oh” Suddenly they see that the Queen is no longer there.
Celia lets out her breath she’d been inadvertently holding. Ulrich slumps into his seat.
Pixis, at the point of exploding, finally lets out a loud giddy scream and jumps from her seat - “SHE IS SO COOL! YASS SPECIAL ORDERS FROM THE QUEEEEEEEEEEEEN!!!!” - before running out the room.
“Ugh, I’m taking my bath” Ulrich moans as he stands to walk away, leaving Celia alone to work out what they are actually going to do next. She looks back at the scraps of notes she has, Lillian's scratchy writing, decorated with drawings of plants at the edges. It reads like a strange shopping list of fear and sin:
lonely, twisted, vast, lurking, violent, dark, buried, greedy, corrupt… all under a single chapter title.
lonely, twisted, vast, lurking, violent, dark, buried, greedy, corrupt… all under a single chapter title.
Something Dangerous.