"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
07-06-2017, 09:22 PM (This post was last modified: 07-09-2017, 05:25 PM by The Underneath.)
The Underneath: Chapter One
It is quiet.
Too quiet.
You awaken in another world: a dark and insidious world, but as you blink your bleary eyes once, twice, you can feel your heart sinking within your chest with the heavy, wretched realization that you are not in another world. Not at all. Though it is impossibly dark, your eyes have adjusted, and you can see so well! Distances, darkness, and heat signatures, you can see it all. The air is thick (you choke, gasping for air, but there is little oxygen to be had) and the atmosphere is dense with a heaviness that can only be rivaled by the paralysis of an imploding star – delicate, celestial dark matter folding in on itself, and you are certain that your chest could cave in at any moment. Your heart is pounding, thrusting itself raggedly at its cage, while your nerves writhe beneath the surface of your skin.
You are not in another world – no, not at all.
It is familiar, but dark, so dark.
It is not a natural darkness, as when the tired sunlight wanes beyond the horizon to unleash a wild moon and all its splendor. It is supernatural, draping over you with a thick envelopment of precarious filth. It is then that you realize that there is no wind, there is no light, there is no movement at all aside from your own. There is nothing but the muffled sound of your ragged breathing, the pervasive stench of death surrounding you, and the tingling of your skin, prickled by the stillness of the ether to reassure you that you have not died – that this is not purgatory –
But something much
much
worse.
Before you, the forest you have come to know so well, with its spindly, deciduous branches and trickling streams (still and unmoving now - time has not stopped; everything has simply ceased to be more than what it is), is eerie and frightening and foreboding. To the west, the mountain is looming, enveloped in a thick haze and a stirring, moving plume of electrified, sparkling clouds that billow from the top - it is the only thing that is moving, the only semblance of life outside of your hammering heart and throbbing veins.
Behind you, there is a low and menacing snarl -
you must move, and quickly!
It is coming.
Coming for you.
Where will you go?
Which will you choose?
PLEASE RESPOND BY JULY 10TH AT 3PM PST.
The Lowdown:
Your character has woken up in an alternate dimension, known as The Underneath.
It looks exactly like Beqanna, but it is impossibly dark, dull and monotonous, with sparse amounts of coloring.
There is little oxygen, so your character will have difficulty with their energy level.
Traits are welcome and encouraged, but not necessary.
This quest is HEAVILY influenced by Stranger Things. If you haven't watched it, you should, but knowledge of it is not necessary to participate.
Describe what happened to them prior to crossing into the parallel universe, describe their surroundings (run wild), their emotions. Do not make up mysterious creatures, and your character is completely alone. Trust me, I'll give him/her plenty of company in due time.
In the Underneath, your character has dragon vision, meaning that your character can see extreme distances, in the dark, and can switch vision over to see heat signatures.
End your post with your decision as to whether or not you will venture into the Forest, or move towards the Mountain.
Entry Requirements:
All characters must already be born (no foals from the July birthing season).
Only one entry per player. No limit on the number of overall entries.
Rules:
There will be no extensions.
You may edit your post any time before the deadline – if you edit your post after the deadline, you will be disqualified, eliminated and be given a defect.
This is a writing-based quest – so do not worry about making the wrong choice. Creativity and solid writing are the only basis for judging.
Those who notify The Underneath that they will no longer be participating prior to a deadline will not receive any consequence. Those who blatantly miss deadlines will be automatically eliminated and receive a defect.
Defects are likely during this quest, but will be temporary with the option of being made permanent/genetic. ** UPDATED: JULY 9TH
Notes:
There are no eliminations in the first round.
There is, of course, a reward to those who make it through to the end.
Feel free to ask questions of The Underneath by PMing or posting in Connect.
FAQ:
Will there be portals like in Stranger Things?
Yes, but they will not be important to the quest and will only be used to transport your character back to their universe.
I'm nervous about entering because I'm afraid of a defect; should I enter anyway?
Choose a character you're open to having a defect with, if you're worried. Look at it as character development and a challenge - defects are not necessarily a bad thing, nor is it guaranteed your character will get one. Quests have risks, but they're worth the reward!
07-06-2017, 11:55 PM (This post was last modified: 07-07-2017, 09:00 AM by AuroraElis.)
She is awoken by an eerie whistle cast through the thicket. Carmel ears swivel as her navy eyes spring open and it is immediately apparent something has changed.
Everything has changed
A startled breath is drawn in and as quickly as it's taken she chokes to expel it. The feeling of drowning consumes her as frantic glances are given to her surroundings. She was no longer on the sandy beaches of Tephra looking across the vast sea. Nor was she accompanied by the blood bay stallion. She was alone - in every sense of the word at this very moment.
Uneasiness grew within her as she stood deathly still gauging her situation. Not only has her world changed in appearance but something in herself had changed. She did not see through dull eyes but an awakened sense of her surroundings. Distance was magnified as well as the contrast within the darkness. Never before had she seen so much where there was little to be seen.
"Hello..." A whispered word passes across her lips in a shaky tone. Her gown of emerald and gold cling tightly to her sides. Ears swivel to capture an answer but they are only met with the stale darkness. Nares flare to intercept a scent within the air - only which stagnant death is found. Not again, she thinks.
Not now
Eyes fall upon the dreary forests ahead. Ominous mists linger in the tangles of branches above. A path seems to part through the trunks of the trees and she wonders where it leads. A rapid pulsing within her chest interrupts her thoughts. Her new and improved vision sweeps east, than west. Another path presents itself. Narrowing her eyes further down this path she notices a mountain with radiating clouds circling it's peak. The fairies! Maybe they could explain to her what has happened to their world. Maybe she could help.
Maybe...
It creeps from up behind her, a rumble within it's throat and hiss through it's teeth - so she thinks - Run! Without hesitation her legs gather under her, leading her up the western path. Eyes focused on the destination making it appear closer than it is. She wears quickly - gasping for breath - her legs weaken as she stumbles,
The young girl with mercury eyes was an enigma wrapped in a riddle. She was a shadow that slipped through life unnoticed. It wasn’t because she wasn’t pretty. Wasn’t because she was afraid. No, she just felt… Different. Distant from others. Rarely did she venture into a random conversation because it always just felt… Off. There was no magic to blame, it was just her. She had always been this way, preferred to venture through life alone. She had no friends or real family. Her mother lost in the abyss long ago, separated not long after birth. Her father a mystery. Unaware of any other relations that might even exist, she had no reason to seek them out. So she went through life with only herself for company. Silvery eyes in the night might draw a double take but most only saw a smoky shadow as she faded from their view, unknown and forgotten.
This is how it has always been for Ciri. Three years have passed, she had grown from her gangly awkward body into a slender feminine form. Her body was fit, not too bulky or overly muscular. A small scar or cut ticked along her dark flesh but for the most part she was still a clean slate. Ripe for the picking. Despite the years spent in solitary, she had a very clear understanding between right and wrong. She had never shied from confrontation, always stepping up for the underdog, defending the weak. Just because she preferred to be on her own didn’t mean she hated her own kind. No, far from it. She cared deeply for the world. Loyalty and love meant something, having watched from shaded woods as other’s interact, it stirred a deep ache in her heart. These were things worth fighting for. This place was worth fighting for. Despite the evil that constantly threatened and creeped, waiting for a moment of weakness to come crashing through, she had a deep well of hope. It helped her face the predators, the moments of despair. Keeping the evil at bay, the light in the darkness.
Today is another normal winter day. She is in the open space between mountain and forest, wandering nowhere in particular. Hooves crunch over snow, powder clinging to her thick winter coat. Her mind is lost in thought, having had an interesting run in with a couple of young stallions. Flirtatious things but not crude or unkind. She had rather enjoyed their banter, easily tossing it back at them. “You’re like one of the guys Ciri.” One had said, smiling at her. She had rather liked that, finding the company of males preferable to that of her own sex. Most were tepid simpering things. If friends were to be found, she preferred those comfortable in their own skin. Comrades, one's she would trust when her back was turned. They weren’t easy to find.
The thought of being a little less antisocial suddenly fades as she notices something strange. A faint green light seems to come from a hole in the ground that’s suddenly appeared before her. Her hooves stop, curved lobes swiveling forward as she warily inspects the rift. For a moment she thinks it may be some sort of cave but surely it hadn’t always been here, had it? Her curiosity is peaked as she edges a little closer, her gaze guarded. In her gut she knows something is wrong and yet she can’t help but lean a little closer…
When she awakens, she is exactly where she had been. And yet the world is different. The snow is gone, the land bare and brittle beneath her. She wastes no time scrambling back to her feet, instantly on the defense. Her muscles taunt beneath ebony skin, silver eyes narrowed as her heart pounds in her chest. Her senses are on fire, prickling beneath her flesh as she looks at this dark world. It takes her a moment to realize that she’s still in Beqanna and yet, not. This BQ is a swirling mass of black and green and yet she can see… Everything. The Mountain still looms in the distance, a blacker mass then it had been before and seems to crackle with electricity at the top. The woods are to her right and despite the significant distance to them, she can almost see through the trunks of the trees as if she was standing right at the forest border. Inhaling, her nostrils flare as she sputters on the thick putrid plumes of air. Spatting slightly at the taste of it, this air isn’t pure. It’s vile, one could almost choke on it. What rattles her most of all is the silence. It’s thicker then the air, smothering her like a wet blanket.
Wherever she is, she needs to get away at once. Her entire body is quivering, knowing that she is quite unsafe. That arrow hits home as a low snarl breaks the stillness. For a minute she freezes, her neck arching slightly as she slowly turns her head. Barely tilting it just to catch a glimpse out of the corner of a sterling eye. All she can see is shadows despite how clear her vision is. But the shadows seem to be moving.
Her hesitation doesn’t last long. Out in the open is not safe, she’s an exposed target. Her body launches forward, dirt flinging as she gallops towards the dark mass of trees. Her lungs burn against the noxious fumes of this world but she figures as soon as she reaches the safety of the woods she can rest for a moment, gather her senses, and figure out what the hell she had gotten herself into.
What cruel joke is this, to pluck a girl from her rest to bring her into a place unknown?
It isn’t the eerie blackness that causes her to stir; it’s the scent.
Smoke. She remembers what that is, what it smells like, but the name of Tephra comes to mind. A shiver cartwheels down her spine. Those horrid memories return then and she grumbles outwardly into the darkness. With the acrid stench of smoke came heartache and betrayal. Dovev – father – and his girl that shattered mother’s heart and drove her to her death. Magnus and how he shielded Atrani from the ruthlessness of the world. Zoryn.
Heartache. Abandonment. Hurt. Anger.
That single smell of smoke brings back a storm of emotions and memories that lift Atrani to her feet. The smoke envelopes her and burns her lungs when inhaled. The girl coughs once, twice.
The world is black, but that’s what her world has always been. It’s all she has ever known. So, she doesn’t realize the change in her surroundings or how the looming darkness is empty and solid without even the caress of moonlight. She knows only the smoke stabbing into her lungs and coating her skin with ash. It weighs heavily across her as she stands, motionless and thoughtful.
That’s when she hears the growl behind her. It’s low, foreboding. The sound almost seems to creep along her emaciated body, sinking claws into her protruding bones. ”What a sick joke this is,” she snips into the blackness as her tail sweeps across her hocks. With the air so still – so stagnant – she almost assumes herself relieved and abandoned, but then it growls again with more malice. It looms nearer and all she can do is move forward.
The years have trained her to rely on her other senses. There are no eyes to see, only empty sockets that almost seem to twitch when in certain lighting at home. She can feel the grass kiss her legs and she can hear how the wind dances through trees on her right, and an open field to her left. The smoke clouds her sense of smell, muffling the odor of deciduous trees, but she knows they are there, watching her sway from side to side.
Atrani doesn’t have much energy as is. The bones grinding against tautly-pulled skin makes it uncomfortable for travel, but another rumble behind her is a reminder to move now. She does not gallop away – how foolish would that be of her since she cannot see? – and so she trots while inhaling short, raspy breaths, never seeming to inhale enough air. The openness lures her away from the forest. She doesn’t know where she is, or where she is going. She is oblivious of the mountain towering above, but somehow it calls to her and she obliges, eager to leave behind the rumbling growls.
dove into her eyes and starved all the fears
picture by haenuli shin- HTML by Call - words: ________
Daylight, I wake up feeling like you won't play right.
By all accounts, it should have been morning. Jah-Lilah had traveled all over the Earth-Mother's back, and knew the movements of the sun and moon like clockwork. The birds should be chirping, there should be other creatures milling about, but as her groggy brain began waking, she heard nothing. Jah-Lilah opens her eyes.
I usually know, but now that shit don't feel right.
Don't panic, try again. Jah-Lilah opens her eyes, and momentarily thinks she's blind. She then realizes the opposite. Her vision is...changed. Her world is changed. This is Beqanna, but not. It's a fucked-up acid trip bizarro-world Beqanna. This is no creation from her Earth-Mother. This world is crushing her. She reels a bit, trying to adjust to this new crazy-ass eyesight. She can see further than she though was possible, but there's nothing to see. Darkness layered upon darkness. What the hell did you drink last night, Jah?
It made me put away my pride.
This world is crushing her. She struggles to get up, the amount of pressure weighing on her soul is astounding. Her breathing is labored, hard, ragged. As she steadies herself, a slow, creeping uneasiness starts to seep into her mind. She is so alone, yet not alone at all. Something is wrong here. Everything is wrong here. Even the way the trees move, the way the air smells. It all makes her more and more agitated. The cloak that has been draped all around her is positively putrid, it made her feel like the world was dying all around her.
So long, you've made the monster wait for some so long.
Everything is wrong here. She's heard only one other thing since she awoke, a noise that turned her blood to ice. It made her shudder involuntarily, and put a fire under her ass. She squints, trying to evaluate her options as quickly as possible, without winding herself or her company into a frenzy. The Magic Mountain or the Fabulous Forest, Jah. Figure it out, figure it out fast. She pivots, heading to the forest.
You make it hard for a girl like that to know wrong.
Figure it out, figure it out fast. She can't fathom taking that long journey to the mountain with only the cover of cloud to shield her. She moves deliberately, but not running. One of the first things she had learned from the unicorns was to never run from anything immortal, it attracts their attention. She didn't know what was after her, but she didn't want to chance piquing it's interest. If she was in it's world now, no doubt all it's senses were evolved for these surroundings.
I'm wishing I could make it mine.
Deliberately, but not running. For real for real, Jah didn't know if she could lift her feet to run even if she wanted too. She could barely catch her breath, it was like wading in murk, moving through what she assumed was bizarro-BQ-grass. Her stomach is churning as she nears the tree line, her body tingling. It takes everything in her to not lose her composure as she darts into the trees, weaving in and out of them as best she can. She doesn't look back as she dives deeper into the once-comforting foliage...
07-09-2017, 11:00 PM (This post was last modified: 07-09-2017, 11:03 PM by Ether.)
The sun crashed down to the ground, the moon rose up into the sky bright red, the dead climbed up from their graves and fell to their knees saying "Come one, come all, come see and believe."
It is not often that he ventures beyond his comfortable, familiar world. He is a creature of the shadows, the spaces small and hidden. Those are the places he calls his. And the peaceful safety of his forested home is such that he is rarely tempted to leave. But he is a growing boy, and as such, even he cannot remain closeted forever.
When he leaves today, it is not with companionship in mind, however. No, it is to grow and expand his knowledge. To learn.
When he leaves the haven of home, he is cloaked in midnight, the dusky blue and freckled white of his lanky, youthful frame nearly indiscernible from the shifting shadows he has grown so comfortable with. He had been born to them after all. So it should come as no surprise that when he stumbles inadvertently into a foreign world, he does not immediately notice. He rarely sees the sunlight as it is, so its absence is not immediately notable.
It isn't until the silence - that ominous stillness that blankets the world in eerie anonymity - registers that he understands something is not right. The shortness of his breath is suddenly too evident, the harsh rasps echoing loudly in the preternatural calm. His steps slowing, he pauses, dark head lifting as he glances warily around. A shiver skitters across mottled skin as he holds himself in high alert. Waiting, watching, his pulse a nearly audible beat in the still air.
And then it comes. A low, rumbling growl that raises the hair along his spine. Shying sideways, he gathers the darkness to him like a protective shield. A shape forms beside him, familiar and friendly - a dark, seemingly ephemeral wolf, lips lifted into a tangible snarl.
Pushing onwards, the yearling colt known as Ether breaks into a lope, the shadowy canid running silently beside him. Deeper into the forest, into the trees he has so long called friend. Only they no longer seem so benevolent, so welcoming. But they are all he knows, so he continues despite the sweat beginning to slick his sides, despite the burn of his oxygen deprived lungs. Despite the fear hanging heavily in the air.
The fear is his, thick and dark and strange. It resides inside his breast beside his rapidly beating heart, aided by the close trees, the reaching, spindly branches. This is not his world. These are not his shadows [those as familiar to him as his own skin]. They are darker, more suffocating. And despite his strangely perfect eyesight, somehow everything seems vastly more dull and murky. He fears these shadows, fears their weight.
But he fears the distant snarling behind more. So deeper, farther, he runs. Allowing the the aberrant, terrifying forest to swallow him whole.
Her struggle to breath, the thick air that forces her to gasp for air, is that what wakes her. Slowly she blinks her eyes a few times, trying to clear her sight, as she forces herself to sit up. Her body is unwilling to cooperate and the simple task to sit up makes her breathless. She needs time to catch her breath, still down but now at least sitting up. Her front legs are folded under her body, her hind legs too, but a bit more to the left as her right side carries most of her weight. Every breath is a fight, loud and with visible moving sides as her body expands to take more air.
In this pose of resting, though a little voice in her head urges her to get up, her lips are touching the ground. The earthy smell is familiar, but that’s the only thing of this world that she recognizes. With each blink of her eyes, her view gets more and more clear. It encourages her enough to lift her head to look around, even though it is hard. Diorae lifts her heavy head, tongue slipping past her lips to wet them. The tastes the earth, sand from the ground where she had rested. Not all that appealing, but her mind is too busy with other things right now.
It’s dark, so much darker than she’d ever seen. Something not of this world. Or is it? She hadn’t been back in Beqanna long enough to be familiar with the chances the land had gone through. But even in the dark, she can now see further than she’d ever been able to. Sharper too, even in the dark. Even on a bright day her sight had never been this good. How had she gotten here?
Last things she remembers is the field, or the meadow perhaps. Diorae didn’t have a home, nor family to return to or friends to lean on. She had been alone, both nervous and thrilled about the thought that someone might be coming to get her. All she wanted was someone to lean on to, to show her all the good things she didn’t dare to go looking for alone. Clearly someone – or something – had come for her, had collected her, but not quite in the way she’d hoped.
She would’ve grunted while standing up if she had been able too, if only her vocal cords and throat would’ve been able to produce sounds. But she cannot. And thus she rises with a struggle in the eerie silence. By the time she stands, she’s panting. Her own breath is the only thing Diorae hears. Nothing moves either. No wind rustling the leaves of the forest in front of her, or tugging at her pale mane and tail. It only makes the whole situation more strange, and freightning.
With realisation settling in, Diorae shifts a bit uneasy on her legs. From her now standing position it’s much easier to look around and, finally noticing the towering mountain in the west. But that’s not the thing that catches her attention. The smoke that rises from it – dark clouds of ashes against an equally as dark sky, which she miraculously can see – is moving, moving. Unless anything else in this strange world.
A snarl breaks through the silence.
She doesn’t freeze, doesn’t even turn to look around, and instead she starts moving. The mountain, she had to get to the mountain. Something was still moving there, making it much more appealing that the dark, frozen forest in front of her. But, dear lord, moving is hard. The fear is enough motivation to do so though, and thus Diorae sets of to the mountain, a quick trot asking less of her energy than canter would’ve.
In the black calm of sleep, a snapping twig awakens Crevan.
At first he can only blink his eyes slowly. It’s the sort of sluggish start one would expect from a deep slumber - his vision adjusting to the dimness of this new world first, followed by the lethargic flicker of a dry tongue over even more dry lips. His mouth tastes bad. The mind is the final thing to snap into any sense of awareness, as if it was reluctant to allow reality to settle over the yearling’s senses. Once it does, Crevan understands why.
There is nothing here and yet, there is everything here.
He’s breathing; a good sign if anything because at first he thinks that he’s died. It’s the only explanation he can manage while he struggles to rise with hooves made of lead. “If I were dead,” The flaxen-colored horse reasons to himself, “then I doubt I would feel as if I were being crushed by a fucking tree.”
A logical sort of conclusion.
But it does feel heavy here. The act of remaining in one place begins to wear on the colt’s strength so he takes a step forward, and then another, and then another - pushing his way through invisible molasses while each precious inhale reminds him of drinking mud. “So I’m not dead.” He finalizes, perhaps needing to convince himself because now that everything else inside of him has awoken there’s one final thing that has yet to sink in:
Fear.
The last of all the things he could feel and what should’ve been the first; Fear drapes across his shoulders and blankets the rest of him like a demon lover. It sinks into the young boy’s heart and sends it racing with the exhilaration of near-death, descending with iron finality over his mind where it leaves the seed of terror to sprout. Crevan is trembling with fear when he reaches out to touch the bark of a muted brown tree, trailing his lips over a spot he’d burnt into the wood when he’d been traveling home with his mother and twin.
Another twig snaps.
He jerks his head around, still cemented in place by the unseen hand of fright while his eyes dart from shadow to shadow. (When you seek out the source of your panic is it because you truly wish to find it? Or is it because you need validation that it doesn’t exist?)
What Crevan finds is that distance, darkness, the idea that he’d been alone here, are all suddenly more complicated now. Those heavy gulps of air are coming in short, labored gasps and his gaze is flying wildly in circles when - suddenly - the quiver of something orange skitters in and out of view. Crevan feels that he’s nearing a state of hysteria with the way his blood is pounding in his ears, and oh god the darkness is pressing in on all sides around him, suffocating him,
But,
His mind goes blank.
All he can remember is the crooning of another voice, far away, while it sings, “Don’t be afraid when the night wolves cryyyy …. Feast on their bonessss, suck the marrooow dryyyy…”
Where do wolves go, when the night grows too dark?
The redhot blood in his veins surges with a jolt of adrenaline and Crevan shifts, seamlessly, into a beast of an animal. An ivory and sandalwood wolf, who streaks away down a twisted path in an ever-darkening wood. The last thing you could possibly see of him is the dull glint of an off-white tail as it succumbs to the inky night, while the crackling mountain is left to its own devices far behind him.
Through despair and hope, Through faith and love. Till we find our place, on the path unwinding.
Zenith is just trying to get comfortable. The stone he lays on, his favorite flat slab in the meadow, is drawing the warmth from his body more quickly than the sun will warm him. Yet, he remains. Curling up against the winter chill the red and gold lion rests his broad face against his paws and waits for spring... or a mare. Whichever comes first.
But then, something changes. It starts with a darkening around the edges of his vision and a tingling in his toes. His stomach churns, his lungs are squeezed empty. And then, it ends with a whoosh and a swirl and nothing and darkness. His shoulders heave and a little mountain of kitty vomit is deposited neatly between his lion’s paws.
But at least his is standing on his own paws again. His ears stain as his eyes adjust and a chill passes down his spine in the unearthly stillness. It is as if a heavy, invisible, blanket of snow had dampened everything, including him. He takes a deep breath, but it does not satisfy his need of oxygen, he takes another and another but the air is too thin.
He glances around for a magician or even a god - someone is baiting him. Instead, he hears a growl. Any other time he would have taken the growl as a challenge and meet it bravely, but there is dark magic at work here.
He is strong, he has the heart of a lion, but he is not senseless.
So, Zenith runs. ...tries to.
There is a splitting pain in his skull, behind his eyes. But he had to move. Keeping low to the grounds, with heavy steps the lion makes his way for the mountain. The blood raging in his ears is nearly deafening, and his vision is painfully clear.
His empty stone bed seems like paradise now. Perspective is a funny thing.
AuroraElis
