09-17-2018, 11:21 PM
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Find the heart. What an ironic idea, a place like this having a heart. Hearts were for love and sweetness and caring, and this place was anything but. Everywhere he looked, others were striking out to follow orders, seeking the radioactive emerald light far off toward the middle of the island. The heart, as diseased as it was. It was his target, his mission, his goal. There was no telling what would come after, and so he didn't even try to plan for it. All of them were now at the mercy of a historically unmerciful god.
The buckskin colt was slow to leave the beach, watching the skies for the long since vanished pale form of his brother. It had been a long journey to reach this place, forcing his body to swim for far longer than he'd ever tried before. Even with the psuedo-gift they're been given, his muscles felt the strain he'd put them through. They ached with the effort, and he knew there was quite a ways to go yet. Still, just standing on the blackened shore brought no relief. The smell of rotting fish and seaweed hung in the air, along with something subtle and cloying. Hoping continued motion would help the pain in his joints, Raul struck out at last.
Following the path the others had taken, he considered calling out, trying to find someone to cross the darkness with. In no time at all, the grim beach was empty of all, leaving him no choice but to begin his own trek. As soon as the sand was left behind it became obvious just how wrong Pangea was. The scent of rot didn't dissipate as he moved further inland. Conversely, it seemed to grow heavier as he went, radiating thickly from the slimy black trunks of long dead trees, from the very mud beneath his feet. Time seemed to hold its breath here, the sky locked in perpetual dusk no matter how long the buckskin walked. The others had moved on quickly, spreading out despite the only being one obvious track through the marshy land.
No birds sang, no insects chirped... even the wind seemed to have died here. All was black and silent, leaving only the erratic sound of blood pulsing in his ears and sour air moving fitfully through his chest. Mulch beneath his feet deadened footfalls, the occasional sticky sucking of peat muck serving only to increase his nervousness. He hummed a few random notes, quickly stopping when the echoes mocked him eerily. Every step brought with it more soreness. What hope he'd held of moving relieving the ache in his bones vanished the deeper into the skeletal glade his steps brought him. Holding still was worse, though. Holding still brought waves of nausea with it, sending vertigo reeling through his head. Tired as the young stallion was, it was gradually becoming clear that the only option was to move toward the sickly throbbing glow that didn't want to get any nearer.
Grumbling to himself, Raul reoriented himself, facing the glow that seemed as far away as it had from the beach. Gods, but he was tired... he had not gone more than a handful of paces when he realized what had broken his reverie in the first place. His steps had an echo that had not been there before. An echo, or a mimic. The trees had been growing steadily more dense, making the gloom harder to penetrate than it had been at the start. It wasn't enough to hide his follower from sight when the flame colt spun on his heel to face them.
Elation filled his chest, quickly followed by grim realization. His steps had been shadowed for the last while by a pale, bony beast. Bone white tinged with gangrene, with tattered remnants of wings hanging by its sides and eyes sunken and milky with decay; it smelled as badly as it looked. He could have decayed much longer, and Raul still would have recognized him. Santana stared at his brother blindly, and it was clear that he had been dead for quite some time. "No... no! I just saw you. You flew away! I just... I saw you..."
Even as he spoke, doubt began to gnaw at his mind. How long had it actually been? The light hadn't changed, the sun hadn't shown its face. It could have been minutes, or hours. Years, even. He had no way of telling. The only evidence he had was the rotting corpse before him, grinning in the way that mummified skulls do. He had no sooner processed this when the cadaverous replica lunged forward, maw gaping open fade wider than should have been possible. Mossy teeth glinted in the weak light as he approached. The flame maned youth dodged, barely evading the zombified twin's initial assault. Sparring was a regular part of their lives back home, all in good fun. This was different. There was no laughter involved, no taunting jokes. The thin monster pursued, teeth gnashing and bones creaking while the buckskin backed away desperately. No clear path showed itself as gnarled branches caught his mane and dragged furrowed claws down his sides. Reptilian teeth dogged every step. This went beyond any nightmare or violent fantasy he could have conjured himself. The monstrosity tailed him every step he took, though it was notably slow and unsteady in it's movements. Instead it seemed to rely on pure persistence; to wear its prey to the ground through sheer exhaustion. That was no way to die.
Thick bracken and marsh weeds caught at his legs and chest. Wingless, fin-less, void of any means of escape beyond his rapidly weakening legs. It was too much. Raul could not even scream as he felt the sharp tearing of teeth into the skin of is haunch. Sweat slicked his hide and stung when it ran into the bleeding lacerations. At last his knees gave way, buckling beneath him as the earth fell away. They had come to a gully, and tumbled down it together in a mess of limbs and ghoulish faces until the basin came up to meet them abruptly. Still death did not come to the buckskin, though now more than ever he wished it would. Pain wracked every inch of his body, while sickness rolled his stomach back and forth. A high-pitched groan brought him to his feet, confirming that somehow nothing had been broken. The undead beast beside him had not fared so well on the way down. A foreleg was clearly broken, bone exposed and bent to unnatural angles. Still it's jaws worked to open and shut, sawing at the air in mindless hunger. This thing, that which looked so much like his own brother, now lay broken and trapped by whatever dark force had raised it from it's eternal rest. Maybe it was his brother, more likely it was just some sad golem meant to torment him. Regardless, he felt no remorse in his next action. A thrashing, frantic rear, landing squarely on the poor monster's skull. Bone cracked beneath his hooves, destroying what was left of its brain. It twitched and kicked a moment longer before coming to a final rest. Raul felt a kind of relief, twisted with sick satisfaction. One of them had needed to die.
Legs streaked with sticky fluid and flecks of brain, he stumbled onward toward the gully's edge. Green light bathed him as he slogged through the muddy remains of a creek bed. Noxious fumes pervaded the area. Reality itself seemed to ripple around him, distorting the edges of his vision into blackened figures. They fled from sight as soon as he turned his head to stare. "Hold still..." His words garbled themselves on the way out. There was none to hear them anyway, though he was quickly forgetting that. Shadows mocked him with leering mouths, eyes wide as white crab apples. Raul, Raul, thou hast wandered far, brother! A thready voice came from behind. His ankle twisted painfully beneath him as he spun about to find the source of the sound. Phantom laughter echoed off the stones and stumps. Run, run, little brother. Can't have you running away now, can we? More laughter, and the world began to tilt sickeningly. His head tossed violently, chasing ghosts across his sight. A whip of nettle vine lashed against the already damaged skin that spanned the muscle of his thigh, rocking him forward into a limping lope. Long-toothed shadows kept easy pace with him as he ran. They would not let him rest until the verdant light grew too intense to ignore. The gully had opened up into a small valley, the center of which pulsed with a macabre beat all its own. He had found it despite himself: the Heart of Pangea. </p> </div> </div> </center>
1,469 Words
tl,dr: Zombie Santana finds him, is killed at the bottom of a gully. Swamp gas gives him hallucinations, and drives him towards the Heart and also a bit crazy.
XImageTransform.Microsoft.gradient( startColorstr='#007db9e8', endColorstr='#6c2714',GradientType=0 ); } .raulsantana_text { position: relative; z-index: 6; width: 580px; background-color: hsla(13, 72%, 24%, 0.62); margin-top: -230px; } .raulsantana_message { position: relative; font: 12px 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: justify; color: #f5f4c9; padding: 30px; } .raulsantana_name { position: absolute; z-index: 8; width: 500px; text-align: center; font: 40px 'Nanum Myeongjo', serif; text-transform: uppercase; color: #000; text-shadow: 10px 0px 20px #000; margin-top: -330px; opacity: 0.6; letter-spacing: 5px; margin-left: 50px; padding-bottom: 10px; border-bottom: solid 1px #000; } .raulsantana_quote { position: absolute; z-index: 8; width: 600px; text-align: center; color: #000; font: 12px 'Source Sans Pro', sans-serif; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: 10px; opacity: 0.6; margin-top: -260px; text-shadow: 0px 0px 20px #000; } </style> <center> <div class="raulsantana_container"> <img class="raulsantana_image" src="https://cdn.pbrd.co/images/HB4ad69.jpg"> <div class="raulsantana_name">raul & santana</div> <div class="raulsantana_quote">fire cannot kill a dragon</div> <div class="raulsantana_gradient"></div> <div class="raulsantana_text"> <p class="raulsantana_message">Find the heart. What an ironic idea, a place like this having a heart. Hearts were for love and sweetness and caring, and this place was anything but. Everywhere he looked, others were striking out to follow orders, seeking the radioactive emerald light far off toward the middle of the island. The heart, as diseased as it was. It was his target, his mission, his goal. There was no telling what would come after, and so he didn't even try to plan for it. All of them were now at the mercy of a historically unmerciful god.
The buckskin colt was slow to leave the beach, watching the skies for the long since vanished pale form of his brother. It had been a long journey to reach this place, forcing his body to swim for far longer than he'd ever tried before. Even with the psuedo-gift they're been given, his muscles felt the strain he'd put them through. They ached with the effort, and he knew there was quite a ways to go yet. Still, just standing on the blackened shore brought no relief. The smell of rotting fish and seaweed hung in the air, along with something subtle and cloying. Hoping continued motion would help the pain in his joints, Raul struck out at last.
Following the path the others had taken, he considered calling out, trying to find someone to cross the darkness with. In no time at all, the grim beach was empty of all, leaving him no choice but to begin his own trek. As soon as the sand was left behind it became obvious just how wrong Pangea was. The scent of rot didn't dissipate as he moved further inland. Conversely, it seemed to grow heavier as he went, radiating thickly from the slimy black trunks of long dead trees, from the very mud beneath his feet. Time seemed to hold its breath here, the sky locked in perpetual dusk no matter how long the buckskin walked. The others had moved on quickly, spreading out despite the only being one obvious track through the marshy land.
No birds sang, no insects chirped... even the wind seemed to have died here. All was black and silent, leaving only the erratic sound of blood pulsing in his ears and sour air moving fitfully through his chest. Mulch beneath his feet deadened footfalls, the occasional sticky sucking of peat muck serving only to increase his nervousness. He hummed a few random notes, quickly stopping when the echoes mocked him eerily. Every step brought with it more soreness. What hope he'd held of moving relieving the ache in his bones vanished the deeper into the skeletal glade his steps brought him. Holding still was worse, though. Holding still brought waves of nausea with it, sending vertigo reeling through his head. Tired as the young stallion was, it was gradually becoming clear that the only option was to move toward the sickly throbbing glow that didn't want to get any nearer.
Grumbling to himself, Raul reoriented himself, facing the glow that seemed as far away as it had from the beach. Gods, but he was tired... he had not gone more than a handful of paces when he realized what had broken his reverie in the first place. His steps had an echo that had not been there before. An echo, or a mimic. The trees had been growing steadily more dense, making the gloom harder to penetrate than it had been at the start. It wasn't enough to hide his follower from sight when the flame colt spun on his heel to face them.
Elation filled his chest, quickly followed by grim realization. His steps had been shadowed for the last while by a pale, bony beast. Bone white tinged with gangrene, with tattered remnants of wings hanging by its sides and eyes sunken and milky with decay; it smelled as badly as it looked. He could have decayed much longer, and Raul still would have recognized him. Santana stared at his brother blindly, and it was clear that he had been dead for quite some time. "No... no! I just saw you. You flew away! I just... I saw you..."
Even as he spoke, doubt began to gnaw at his mind. How long had it actually been? The light hadn't changed, the sun hadn't shown its face. It could have been minutes, or hours. Years, even. He had no way of telling. The only evidence he had was the rotting corpse before him, grinning in the way that mummified skulls do. He had no sooner processed this when the cadaverous replica lunged forward, maw gaping open fade wider than should have been possible. Mossy teeth glinted in the weak light as he approached. The flame maned youth dodged, barely evading the zombified twin's initial assault. Sparring was a regular part of their lives back home, all in good fun. This was different. There was no laughter involved, no taunting jokes. The thin monster pursued, teeth gnashing and bones creaking while the buckskin backed away desperately. No clear path showed itself as gnarled branches caught his mane and dragged furrowed claws down his sides. Reptilian teeth dogged every step. This went beyond any nightmare or violent fantasy he could have conjured himself. The monstrosity tailed him every step he took, though it was notably slow and unsteady in it's movements. Instead it seemed to rely on pure persistence; to wear its prey to the ground through sheer exhaustion. That was no way to die.
Thick bracken and marsh weeds caught at his legs and chest. Wingless, fin-less, void of any means of escape beyond his rapidly weakening legs. It was too much. Raul could not even scream as he felt the sharp tearing of teeth into the skin of is haunch. Sweat slicked his hide and stung when it ran into the bleeding lacerations. At last his knees gave way, buckling beneath him as the earth fell away. They had come to a gully, and tumbled down it together in a mess of limbs and ghoulish faces until the basin came up to meet them abruptly. Still death did not come to the buckskin, though now more than ever he wished it would. Pain wracked every inch of his body, while sickness rolled his stomach back and forth. A high-pitched groan brought him to his feet, confirming that somehow nothing had been broken. The undead beast beside him had not fared so well on the way down. A foreleg was clearly broken, bone exposed and bent to unnatural angles. Still it's jaws worked to open and shut, sawing at the air in mindless hunger. This thing, that which looked so much like his own brother, now lay broken and trapped by whatever dark force had raised it from it's eternal rest. Maybe it was his brother, more likely it was just some sad golem meant to torment him. Regardless, he felt no remorse in his next action. A thrashing, frantic rear, landing squarely on the poor monster's skull. Bone cracked beneath his hooves, destroying what was left of its brain. It twitched and kicked a moment longer before coming to a final rest. Raul felt a kind of relief, twisted with sick satisfaction. One of them had needed to die.
Legs streaked with sticky fluid and flecks of brain, he stumbled onward toward the gully's edge. Green light bathed him as he slogged through the muddy remains of a creek bed. Noxious fumes pervaded the area. Reality itself seemed to ripple around him, distorting the edges of his vision into blackened figures. They fled from sight as soon as he turned his head to stare. "Hold still..." His words garbled themselves on the way out. There was none to hear them anyway, though he was quickly forgetting that. Shadows mocked him with leering mouths, eyes wide as white crab apples. Raul, Raul, thou hast wandered far, brother! A thready voice came from behind. His ankle twisted painfully beneath him as he spun about to find the source of the sound. Phantom laughter echoed off the stones and stumps. Run, run, little brother. Can't have you running away now, can we? More laughter, and the world began to tilt sickeningly. His head tossed violently, chasing ghosts across his sight. A whip of nettle vine lashed against the already damaged skin that spanned the muscle of his thigh, rocking him forward into a limping lope. Long-toothed shadows kept easy pace with him as he ran. They would not let him rest until the verdant light grew too intense to ignore. The gully had opened up into a small valley, the center of which pulsed with a macabre beat all its own. He had found it despite himself: the Heart of Pangea. </p> </div> </div> </center>
1,469 Words
tl,dr: Zombie Santana finds him, is killed at the bottom of a gully. Swamp gas gives him hallucinations, and drives him towards the Heart and also a bit crazy.