Event Log: April, Tangled Terrors Part Two

[faileas]

Event Log: April, Tangled Terrors Part Two

Hopefully you and your fellows have prepared yourselves for the trial that comes next, with supplies and backup, because it could be days until you see the city of Aefenglom again. Slashing down the curtain of blackened roots that bar entry to the source of all this trouble will open up access to a truly massive cavern, the ceiling of which is far, far over your heads. Unlike everywhere else in the Underground so far, slats of light from aboveground filter in through cracks in the ceiling of varying sizes, where thick, sickly roots penetrate the surface and reach down, down, down, hanging like stalactites or wrapping around the mass at the center of the chamber. There it is, the pulsing louder than ever, a steady drumbeat of unease: a beating, throbbing mass of Cwyld, easily as large as one of the bigger buildings in Aefenglom. Pitch black in color, it’s attached firmly to the coiling roots of what must be a huge tree above, leeching from it like a parasite and reaching dark vein-like fingers into the leyline. This is an ancient, well-established thing that must have laid dormant for a long time, newly awoken by the efforts to clear away infection in the tunnels close to it. With every beat of this hideous heart, the problems that plague the Underground, Aefenglom, and the Mirrorbound grow incrementally worse. It’s easier to feel out the leyline here, even for those who may not be sensitive to such things, and its poor condition is enough to fill even the stoniest heart with empathetic, deep-rooted despair - the magic here is badly tainted, the land dying all around you.

I. The Screaming Tree It’s possible to climb the winding roots up to the world aboveground, wriggling through the cracks in the earth’s ceiling. The Cwyld is deep-set here, the grass ashen gray and withered, crumbling under your feet, the plants black and twisted into strange shapes or simply dead, collapsing into dusty husks at the slightest brush. The ancient tree before you is just as dead, its branches long bare, its bark crumbling and leaving bone-white patches of the raw wood visible in the trunk. It might have been beautiful once, homey, its roots spread wide and forming natural hollows and bowers to rest in, but that was a long, long time ago. Before something terrible happened here. Look closer at the trunk, and bear witness to the faces of two dozen humanoid creatures who seem like they were partly absorbed into the tree and frozen there, their expressions a tableau of horror, fear, despair, many of their mouths twisted into screams. Men, women, there are even a couple of faces that seem so, so very young, held in place inside the dead tree by black, pulsing veins. Their long limbs are outstretched like branches, as if they’re reaching for you, desperate for help. Black, oily sludge constantly leaks from their unmoving eyes like tainted tears. The Dryads died out a long time ago, fallen to the Cwyld, that’s common knowledge, but now you’re seeing it for yourself. The pulsing mass of Cwyld below overtook this tree, and the Dryads who no doubt lived among its roots and branches. "Can thou feel their cries? The hopelessness wrought deep in their souls?" comes a larger than life voice near you, laden with despair of her own to see the evidence of lives cut tragically short. “I remember this place. It was a Dryad settlement once, long ago.”

II. Guardian's Blessing The source of the voice may be familiar to some: Creia, the guardian dragon of the earth, who was once freed from her own slumber thanks to Mirrorbound efforts; her scales are a vibrant, emerald color, evidence of her better health from her first true meeting with the Mirrorbound as a whole outside the boundaries of Aefenglom, and there's a sense of power in the words she speaks. The power that comes from long life, from an ancient being who has seen and experienced much. "Mine wings bore me as swiftly as they could," she says, settling into a sitting position in the dead grass, watching the tree with immeasurable sadness. "Thou hast seen what lies beneath, have thee not? The Cwyldheart." Her tone is nearer to disdain than sorrow, but there's a clear remorse in it as well. "I had not thought they existed still, but perhaps they merely laid dormant where my senses could not find them. This one poisons the very leyline that runs beneath thine Aefenglom." She goes on to inform all who are gathered that when she heard from you Mirrorbound that something was amiss, she came as quickly as she could to see the damage, and to try and offer her help if she can. Cwyldhearts, she tells you all, are masses where the infection is concentrated, where it has consumed a great amount of magic or lives, and when active, they cause powerful surges in infection all through the leylines they attach to. She wasn’t aware that any remained, and speculates that they hide themselves when they go dormant. This one is most assuredly active, and that means it won’t stop until it has consumed everything it can, turned every life from here to Aefenglom into an infected husk. But Creia, her talons scratching at the dead ground, and her gaze fixed on the tree, does not seem so willing to accept that. "Thou who hath been called by the world, thou hath proven thyselves capable of achieving the improbable before, have thee not? That I stand here now before thee is proof enough of that. Perhaps, should thee take heart and valor in hand, thou may be able to do so once more. Wouldst thou like to try?" In a surge of power, the ground immediately beneath her shifts, the grass changing color slowly from gray to white to green with new life, and she drags her claws through it to turn the earth, revealing large brown seeds shaped like teardrops, the size of footballs or ostrich eggs, nestled in the dirt. Despite their woody outer shells, she’s very careful with them as she offers a seed to anyone who steps forward to take one. "Each of these seeds contains a piece of my magic. Keep them safe, plant them in the center of the Cwyldheart, and add thy power to mine own. Yes, yes, those who are closer in form to myself as well, everyone with a spark of life in them can lend their voice to the chorus of this world. It will amplify thine abilities and thine hope for a better world, and enough of them should allow thee to destroy this blight for good." She casts a glance to the tree, to the frozen faces of the Dryads, something new entering her expression, something like hope. "And who knows what may happen then?" This mission is a dangerous one, but Creia sends off those willing to take it with a warm, heartfelt wish. "Thou must take care of thyselves, but be certain to take care of thy comrades as well. Thou shalt need one another."

III. Heart of Darkness You can’t put it off any longer. With seeds in hand, it’s time to venture back down below, to the pulsing Cwyldheart. The steady thump-thump, thump-thump resonates in your very bones, in the back of your brain that has your instincts screaming at you to run the other way. The twisted knot of blackened roots and veins at the center of the chamber does not welcome visitors, but it’s possible to slip through a gap between the tangles, into a darkness you’ve never known before. Whatever entrance you find closes up the moment you and your fellows step through it, and it becomes obvious quickly that either you will succeed here, or you’ll join those Dryads in the infected tree. Your Watch still works, at least - most of the time. The connection is quite spotty, and voices can come out sounding garbled and nightmarish on both sides, but with persistence, this is the only way you’ll be able to talk to anyone who isn’t on this mission with you. Otherwise, you’ll have to rely on your fellow volunteer heroes to help you through this. a. Inside the Cwyldheart The inside is much larger than the outside would suggest. Once your eyes adjust to the darkness, an easier feat for Monsters than it is for Witches, the true scope of this maze of tangled roots becomes clear. The walls move in and out like they’re breathing around you, some corridors much tighter and others feeling vast. In some, you can walk right side up, while in others, your feet remain on the ‘ground’ but the blood rushes to your head, the actual floor far below you. Time and space take on a dreamlike feeling, and you can’t tell if minutes have passed or hours, can’t tell if you’ve gone feet or miles, but Mirrorbound at least should be able to tell the difference between dreams and reality. This is all very real, and you won’t wake up miraculously fine if you get hurt down here. Negative feelings seem always at the forefront, paranoia and fear especially, filling those who venture here with the sense that they need to watch their backs. The air is thick and stale, damp and reeking of rot. The natural pathways that tunnel through the Cwyldheart like twisting arteries are lined with clusters of purple fungi, and very old, sludge-covered bones of the creatures it infected long ago. They’re rare, but occasionally blind Shades still wander within the chambers of the Cwyldheart, so twisted and mutated you can’t tell what they used to be. These are attracted to sound and motion, and by staying very still, you can generally avoid their attention. Everything in this place gets more dangerous once it gets the scent of those seeds you carry, though. As if sensing what they could do to it, it will react defensively. Protect those seeds; Shades will come after those who carry them, the roots in the walls and the bulbous mushrooms loosening and growing and lashing out. The Cwyld may sink its claws into you in an attempt to infect and consume those seeds - too much contact with the roots or the Shades may start to cause physical mutations in you, just like those mutations of the velvet wormipedes and the native creatures of the tunnels. Your limbs may change and twist, you may grow new blackened protrusions. It's painful, and disgusting, and if it goes too far, you may need to hand your seed off to someone you can trust, lest you sabotage the mission yourself. b. Heart on Your Sleeve As the hours pass within the Cwyldheart, things get… a little weird. Your sense of perception could feel off. It may feel like something is always watching you, like you have to keep looking over your shoulder every few minutes. Or you might feel utterly, utterly alone in the universe, even if someone is standing right next to you. Whatever makes you feel worse, it seems like. But then the strangeness gets more improbable, like the Cwyldheart itself wants to probe at your weaknesses, bring them out to the forefront to better get under your skin and make you lose hope in ever finding the center. All those things that have hurt you in the past, that left their marks on your mind, your soul rather than your body, surface as wounds or scars on your physical form. None of them will be debilitating or life-threatening in themselves, you won’t bleed out from your past broken heart, but they will be painfully obvious to those around you, and some may not handle that type of vulnerability well. The only thing that seems to ease the pain from these psychological wounds is talking about the events that caused them to another person, whether they be your Bonded or a total stranger, or just sharing an emotional connection of some kind. No one wants to discuss some of their worst memories or open up to a near stranger, but it might be necessary to keep yourself from being distracted or held back as you wander the maze of the Cwyldheart. c. A Helping Hand The rampant issues with Witches’ magic, with Bonds, even sometimes with Monsters; abilities, continue even here. With your proximity to the source, they are even stronger - but there is a way to alleviate the effects enough to progress. The land recognizes all bonds, even those that are unofficial, even those that are new. While you can hang on to your Bonded if you’re lucky enough to have them with you, friendships or familial relationships or a budding romance, the heat of a rivalry, or even the new and tenuous bond of two strangers brought together by mutual dangers can be used to your advantage. Physical contact with any of your fellow Mirrorbound, even just clasped hands, or a comforting hand on your shoulder, can make it easier to cast spells to light your way through the dark or fight off the few wandering Shades. It can give you the strength to use your abilities, not quite to their fullest, but better than you can use them alone. It will also help you protect those seeds you hold close to your chest. Your bonds, and your Bonds can help shield their presence from the Cwyldheart, making it safer to proceed. It’d be easy to push people away, especially bearing the physical representations of your deepest emotional hurts, but you’ll never survive that way. You’ll only make it to the center by coming together.

IV. Seeds of Hope In the real world, at least a week has passed before you and your fellows find the center of the Cwyldheart, though it may feel like only hours or it may feel like weeks to you, stuck in a place that ignores the conventions of the real world. The innermost chamber is a small space, tucked away, with sloping walls made of latticed roots littered with holes. This is the only place inside where a thin trickle of light filters down, weak, through a small hole in the ceiling. This chamber is vulnerable, all the strange defenses outside meant to protect it. The soil here is black with infection, but soft, easily dug with your hands or tools if you happened to have brought them. The perfect place to plant your garden of hope for the future of Geardagas. Once you’ve broken through to the innermost chamber, the pulsing seems to fade away, letting you think again, clearly, for the first time since you entered. The walls are still. You’ve made it this far and no more dangers will come for you. Plant the seeds you worked so hard to keep safe in the blackened soil, hold your friends tight, and plant a piece of your own innate magic with them. All your best intentions, all your joys, all your light. Let it bloom. The seeds take root quickly, and bloom they do, growing fast and strong and pulsing with magic, Creia’s bolstering your own to make something bright and brilliant. The resulting plants grow huge in a matter of minutes, twining together in harmony. Maybe you can even tell which seed you have carried, because the plant is a larger version of something significant to you, or it bears colors that represent you. They form a sheltered bower, and spread upward, pushing away the blackened walls, sinking fresh green tendrils into the bigger roots of the dead tree. The Cwyldheart crumbles around you. The black recedes. The leyline fills with fresh magic and pulses with new life. A gentle warmth wraps around you like a blanket and heals your wounds and banishes any infection you picked up. It will keep working over the next few days, the new life sinking in, banishing the Cwyld entirely from the Underground caverns and weakening its hold above. It will gradually bring life again to the ancient tree and make it bloom once more. At this point, you can stick around to watch it happen, or you can return home with the good news, and trust in what you helped to start. With the destruction of the Cwyldheart, all its negative effects will fade. Your Bonds will snap back into place and right themselves from the Dryad Tree clear into Aefenglom. You might feel the phantom ache of that loss for some time more, but the moment it’s destroyed, everyone will know that all will be well.

Welcome to Tangled Terrors, Part Two! This part takes place entirely at the site of the Cwyldheart, but anyone is welcome to do Watch threads on this log to communicate with the group they aren't part of (staying home vs expedition team). We'll be posting a small wrap-up at the very end of the month that will describe the aftermath and the rewards characters will reap for their efforts, but it won't be a full event post of its own. As always, you're welcome to use this log or make your own, and please make sure you warn for any content that might be disturbing to others! And lastly, please direct your questions here. Have fun!

Comments

inner chamber

[grandspark]

As it so happened, Rude was actually standing around and watching others plant their seeds. He wasn't normally one to hesitate on the job but the infection was starting to get to him mentally. Having traveled this far, however, he wasn't going to give up now.

Howl's words snapped him out of it. He grunted as he turned his gaze down towards the Witch and saw how little he had dug so far. His wings twitched behind him and his tail thumped once at his side then was resolutely stilled.

He knelt down and set his seed carefully aside. "Fine. I'll help." He shooed Howl back a bit so he could get at the hole. Digging tools would have been smart to bring but in the haste of leaving and the limited supplies already gathered at the initial time, he had left without grabbing any, leaving them for others to take advantage of.

As a dragon he had the size and strength to dig without aid well enough anyway. Notably, his hands were covered completely with a pair of sturdy gloves probably meant more for fighting than gardening but they would keep his hands clean at least. They didn't hamper his efforts; he began to move dirt with quite some force, sending it flying out of the way.

[galdorleod]

With a huff, Howl withdrew from his pitiful hole in the ground and sat back, pretending that he wasn't surprised that the enormous monster actually listened to him. He initially watched him as he heaved dirt from the ground using his large, gloved hands, but soon he was looking at the profile of the dragon himself and wondering whether he'd met this one before.

No, he was sure he hadn't. Howl made an effort to introduce himself to the Mirrorbound dragons at any opportunity, so congratulations, Rude, you've managed to pique his curiosity at a time when Howl is in full "no talk me im angy" mode.

"...Thank you," he finally murmurs after a minute or so. "You're much better at that than I am. Much stronger."

[grandspark]

He'd be honored if he knew--well, probably not, he wouldn't care. But it would be an interesting tidbit of information to know about the other and a person like Rude took down things like that in memory. All that aside, he didn't stop digging until Howl spoke up finally and only then paused for a second to glance over at the Witch.

"That's why it's not a problem."

He was honestly used to being the strongest man in the room even back home. If not the outright strongest then he was typically one of the strongest and most skilled, and combined that made him one of the most deadly. Which was fine with him. It helped his job to appear large and intimidating. At least most days. If he needed finesse or charm that was what his partner was for.

Being turned into a hulking dragon only made it more apparent that he was large and strong. The extra bulk was almost annoying sometimes. The only thing that made it bearable in this world was the fact that dragons had once been popular and most areas in the cities were made with them in mind.

The Turk went back to digging. The hole would probably be large enough for the seed soon. And then he could get to work on one for his own.

[galdorleod]

For a big, powerful dragon, this one is agreeable. Howl isn't just grateful to have the Monster taking care of this task for him, but somewhat surprised that he capitulated to Howl's request - more of a demand, really, even he has enough self-awareness at the moment to admit that - so immediately. And is continuing to do so with no complaints.

"What's your name?" Howl asks slowly, his voice tinged with curiosity. "I've never seen you before. I thought I knew all the dragons within our special populace."

[grandspark]

"Rude."

He replied succinctly.

If anything, the Turk was used to getting things done whether he agreed with them or not. And while Reno wasn't usually pushy, he did tend to just expect Rude to do whatever he was told and Rude had gotten to the point where he just followed orders. It was sometimes hard to get a word in.

Not that it mattered. The job always came first. And they were always in tandem on that.

[galdorleod]

Howl's immediate reaction is to blink, confused, and say nothing. "Rude"? What was rude? Asking his name? What's so rude about asking someone's name? After another moment, it occurs to him what he might've really been saying, but what a silly name if that's the case.

"Your name is Rude?" he asks, unable to hide the disbelief in his voice. "Is that a joke?"

[grandspark]

"Yes." And then with a look out of the corner of his eye. "No. Not a joke."

He almost didn't clarify but maybe he felt a last minute effort to be polite to the poor sod and throw him a bone. Not talking much was his shtick but it could only get him so far in life when he needed other things done as well. Right now he was busy but there was no real reason to be...well, rude.

"And your name is?" he prompted as he finished up the digging on the first hole and sat back to judge whether its size was appropriate or not. He felt it was and left it alone, looking back to the man who'd asked for help digging it in the first place.

[galdorleod]

Howl snorts and leans back, feeling tickled pink by this revelation. Quite an unfortunate name for a person who's been nothing but polite - so polite that Howl might describe him as "obedient," based on their interaction so far.

"I am Howl," he answers as he wearily rises to his feet, his bones aching. The seed is tucked against his body, like a rugby ball. "Commonly known as the Wizard Howl, if you've heard of me."

That's as much self-promotion as Howl can muster at the moment, considering the state he's in and how dreadful he looks right now. Kneeling beside the hole Rude kindly dug for him, Howl places the seed inside carefully and begins to push the loose dirt around the hole back inside to cover it up.

"Look at that! Bang-up job."

[grandspark]

"Not really."

That was a lie. Rude had seen Howl's posts of the local network several times. He knew of the 'wizard' as much as the next person that paid any attention to the devices. He was too observant and retentive of information not to recall the various posts by the flamboyant Witch.

The contrary nature came from not revealing all his cards in hand. Perhaps completely useless here but old habits die hard.

"It works." He hummed quietly under his breath for a moment as he eyed the seed's buried state. "Guess now we wait for them to work their magic."

However, Rude still had his own seed to plant. The more the better, the quicker this would all end no doubt, so it needed to be done as well. He moved a little away to another spot to dig and began working at the dirt again.