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2023 catch-all
Who: Liem & various
What: Catch-all for non-event threads
Where: Various
When: Throughout the rest of 2023
Warnings: Will be in headers as appropriate
What: Catch-all for non-event threads
Where: Various
When: Throughout the rest of 2023
Warnings: Will be in headers as appropriate
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Might be able to. Last time I saw something like that it involved a hag and some very unfortunate circumstances...
[ Karlach frowns, hefts her axe. ]
My instinct says smash through it but, uh. I'm open to other ideas.
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Perhaps, [he says, in answer to Dimitri’s query. To the wall of roots, he asks,] May we pass through here? We need to travel this way.
[The entreaty produces no immediate physical change in the blockade — but from the roots comes an sudden, muffled sensation of rage, resentment and refusal welling up from somewhere within the structure and touching their minds insistently as though through murky water, furious to be heard.
Something formless is trying to make itself understood.]
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What's happened to you...?
[ There's no answer. Not in words, anyway. More of that anger, more of that resentment. ]
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...We're not looking for trouble.
[ Karlach's not used to being someone who talks others down. Not a diplomat. The others, though, seem to be trying. She stretches out a little with that Communion, trying to see if it makes contact with whatever that presence is--tries to project sympathy and understanding.
She's not sure it's working. ]
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In an attempt to reach the spirit within, he stretches out a hand and presses it against the roots forming the thing’s brow. Almost immediately, twisting growths wind around his arm, extending up the limb all the way to his chest — where his shard sits.
Liem gasps, and then goes still. The muddied waters of the communion become clearer, as though seen through a lens. Through the connection come impressions:
Crawling free of loose earth, a shard clutched in one hand, light filtering through great branches stretching above. Strife and turmoil; a yearning to go somewhere other than here. Betrayal, fear, and then — darkness. Grave quiet and isolation, beyond the ears of anyone who might be able to listen. And rage, rage, rage, rage.]
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Liem - it's not hurting you, is it?
[ He glances up with a frown. ]
Please. We don't mean you any harm... whoever you are.
[ Because this is someone, isn't it? ]
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We're...
[ What can she say that the others aren't already saying? ]
We're just passing through.
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[Liem’s gaze slides sluggishly over to Dimitri, as though his mind is occupied elsewhere. Distractedly, he shakes his head, but his brows are knit in concentration. The overwhelming, cacophonous sensation of being touched by the spirit is making it very difficult for him to think, let alone speak.
Dimitri and Karlach’s words evoke a strong feeling of negation through communion: “no,” and then “no” again. The claim of innocence is not accepted, nor is the intention to progress further. Accusation comes through the connection, for living shard-bearers who interrupt the spirit’s mournful solitude only to pass through and leave it behind. Around them, the roots twining all about wriggle like grasping fingers ready to reach out and seize them, to prevent them from leaving after all. But the roots don’t reach out — yet. Other than Liem, whose arm is still gripped tight, none of them are yet assailed by any of the wriggling tendrils.
But they might be, if they refuse to address the spirit’s grievance.]
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Please. I don't know what happened to you - how can we help you? I want to help make this better, if I can - but I don't know how.
[ That sense of anger and hurt is almost overwhelming. But that's a familiar feeling to him; it's one he recognizes from himself and he tries to make them understand this. To show that he wants to help. ]
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[ She's not good at this sort of thing. She's a fighter, not a talker. Her solution would be to chop this obstacle down to the root and call it good--but that's clearly not what everyone else wants to do. She glances helplessly at Dimitri. He seems to have a better grasp. ]
Yeah.
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In answer to Dimitri’s question, an image appears again, dim and grey through the time and distance that now separates them from the life this individual once held. It is the impossibly broad trunk of the Tree of Life, with its gnarled roots, its profusion of mighty branches all lit by a warm golden glow. Snatches of meaning intertwine with a deep sense of longing, emerging from the storm of rage and grief.
Whoever this person was, now that they have died, now that they have lost their battle and failed their purpose, they wish to return to the tree that brought them to this world.]
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I think I understand.
[ He tilts his head, as if trying to find a face. Something to look at, to place at the center of his attention. ]
We can take you back. I promise you that I will, once we're through here. You deserve that chance. A moment to rest. A place to be.
[ He won't turn that away. Not when it hurts this much. ]
I promise you.
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It is a feeling that she understands deep in her bones, even if not the same way this thing does. ]
We will. Promise.
[ Her voice soft, almost a little sad. ]
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All about the three of them, the forest of roots writhes, shifts, and parts, sinking back into the tunnel walls to reveal the path forward; all the roots except for a gnarled bit of root that remains curled about Liem’s wrist, and thin tendrils that reach out to wrap themselves around Dimitri and Karlach’s wrists as well, breaking off from the main body of the roots to form a sort of bracelet.
A token, perhaps, to remind them of the promise they’d made. To ensure they do not forget.]
Thank you, [Liem says when the way is cleared.] We will return for you.
[All that’s left then is to press forward, to finally reach the thing they came for. So he does.]
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Whatever lurks down here, he will do his best to solve the problem - and then keep his promise. ]
...was that another shard-bearer, once?
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That's the feeling I got.
[ She's not sure how else to respond to the question. What does it mean for her? Could she herself become something like this grasping, unhappy presence. ]
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[What kind of person that shard-bearer was, what they looked like, even what side they harmonized with, Liem has no idea. Does their final resting place beneath the Church of Helios make it more likely that they belonged to Meridian, or less? He couldn’t guess.
As make their way further through tunnels that now open up into larger caverns, the rock and earth about them continue to be rife with roots. Perhaps from Springstar’s Great Tree? It seems likely, since he can’t imagine what other roots would penetrate so far beneath the surface of the island.]
I got the sense that they didn’t just die… but that they failed. Perhaps, whatever war they were a part of, they got to see their side lose it.
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An interesting thought.
[ He frowns. ]
...that is itself a terrible thought. Is this something that might happen to us?
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[ Karlach sounds grim, disgusted. She's already worn out and tired from the whole process of getting down here, but the follow-up gut punch of a realization about their situation vis-a-vis the whole war seems to have hit her. ]
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[The frown on Liem’s face is pensive as they delve deeper into a gloomy, root-filled cavern. The space around them opens up, becoming expansive enough that the far ends are swallowed in shadow.]
There must have been a winning side to at least some of the previous wars, regardless of whether all the Oracles were claimed, and yet all of those shard-bearers, regardless of faction, are just as gone and forgotten now.
I recall when Aetós contacted everyone earlier in the month, he said none of the previous wars had come to a conclusion. He also told me that, whenever that happened, the shard-bearers of that generation were all “purged” one way or another.
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[ Dimitri grinds his teeth. He doesn't like thinking about the man. Or whoever that person is. He finds them cruel, uncaring, wasteful of life and willing to inflict pain for no other reason than to sate his curiosity. ]
How reliable can his information be? Why should we trust his words?
[ Then again, why should they trust almost anyone here? ]
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[Liem doesn’t even try to deny this; even if the experiments on unwilling people weren’t damning enough — and they are — Aetós himself admitted that he would not offer aid to the current generation of shard-bearers unless it also benefited himself.]
Nevertheless, I don’t think that necessarily makes his words less trustworthy than those of any other Kenos resident. He has no motivation to help us — but also no motivation to mislead us, at least from what I know of him.
And, most saliently, the little he has been willing to divulge does make sense considering our present circumstances. I think it would be unwise to discount it entirely.
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I would rather not deal with him at all. But you're right. If he has information that will help us...
[ He breathes out in a sigh. ]
Then we take it and use it as best we can. Otherwise we might as well plug our ears or wear blindfolds.
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An agreement is on his lips — but it dies unspoken as Liem instead pauses in his tracks, raising a hand to signal his companions to do the same. Carefully, he steps back behind the shelter of a large root, peering into the broad, vaulting cavern ahead.
At the centre, hidden in the darkness beyond their light’s range, something gnarled and misshapen lurks. He only glimpses it for a moment before he snuffs out the magic keeping their light aglow, plunging them all into darkness.]
I think we might have found our quarry.
[His voice is low, steady. Up above the creature, descending from the cavern’s high ceiling, he still recalls the shape of broad, twisted roots, plunging through the rock. Pulling a damp quarrel from his quiver, he loads it into the groove of his crossbow.]
I’m going to light it up. Be ready.
[A rapid incantation sets the loaded quarrel ablaze with light — and then, only a moment later, Liem sends it shooting through the air, embedding the glowing bolt firmly in that root overlooking the cavern’s centre.]
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His body goes tense and he waits.
He watches.
And then there's a blaze of light and Dimitri goes darting forward, lance held ready to fight whatever twisted shape emerges from the harsh shadows thrown off by the glowing bolt. ]
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cw: body horror
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