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

Heart of Darkness

[themogget]

[No one would have expected a small white cat, of all things, to have made it this far.

Mogget lost control of his human shape not all that long ago, and the effort to keep holding on to it almost drained him entirely. He isn't sure how long it's been anymore and somehow the passage of time doesn't seem to matter. Well, it never mattered before, did it?

The curse has had its own peculiar effects on the small feline form. Strange wisps of light curl off his white fur, almost like smokey tendrils, giving the effect of his entire shape appearing to be losing cohesion. His shape doesn't seem entirely right - cat-like, but off in a way that is entirely uncanny and not easily pinpointed. When he walks it's with clear discomfort.

He finds the young woman sitting in a corner, looking about as terrible as he feels. The eyes don't seem to put him off.]

Would you have still come, if you knew?

[When the cat speaks his voice is a myriad of odd mewls and other feline sounds, but there's something else to it now. A strange, vibrating bass carried under it that speaks of something far more powerful.]

[adventageous]

[One of the eyes on Alice's arm turns to look before Alice herself does, rolling a little in its psuedo-socket a bit as if appraising the new arrival. They eyes themselves are blind, at least as far as Alice's senses are concerned, but there still seems to be some terrible awareness in them.

When she finally turns her head, the best Alice's exhausted mind can come up with is that this is an almost-cat. She blinks a few times, trying to determine if the creature is actually somewhat distorted or if she's hallucinating. Ultimately, she decides it doesn't matter. She's past the point of being able to tell the difference.]

If I knew of this? [She waves a hand, indicating her current state and the Cwyldheart threatening to devour them both.]

I would have, without a second thought. I care too much for this world and its people to be able to sit idly by.

[She shifts a bit, turning her body so that she isn't straining her neck.]

And you? Do you have any regrets coming down here?

[themogget]

Oh, a good number of them.

[All of this had started out with Mogget simply being curious, and isn't there a saying about curiosity and cats? By the time he'd realised that he really didn't want to be where he was it was far too late to turn around, and he'd been forced to simply push through to the end.

As it is, he's just stubborn enough that this isn't going to kill him. He won't let it.]

I'm sure I'd much rather be lying in a patch of sun on the docks with a full belly. [As a cat would. He would also prefer to not have what is happening to his body right now to be happening at all.]

But I'm here, so I can only make the best of things. [He pauses to look her up and down.] That is an interesting mutation.

[adventageous]

[At least the almost-cat is honest. The bluntness of it brings a small smile to Alice's face, despite everything.]

I think we'll have all earned some sunshine and a good meal when this is over. I'll bring you some fish myself, if you'd like.

[Assuming he likes fish. Cats like fish, right?

Alice watches him inspect her and self-consciously tugs at her sleeve to try and cover a bit more of her skin. He seems more curious than horrified, which honestly is the better of the possible outcomes to seeing her like this.]

It's a curse that's killing me back home. [She lifts a hand and looks it over, sighing softly at what she sees.] It seems the Cwyldheart decided to add insult to injury and have it manifest on the outside like this. I wish it hadn't.

[She looks at him again, squinting a little as she tries to make sense of his form.]

Is all of that a mutation as well? Or is the Cwyld playing tricks on my sight?

[themogget]

I'll hold you to that.

[And he will. Mogget does enjoy fish, especially when it's nicely prepared... though he will eat it raw if need be.

Her explanation of why she looks like this isn't one he expects, though he doesn't show his surprise (easy enough to hide when one is a cat). He does do her the kindness of not drawing out the amount of time he spends inspecting her condition, however.

When the attention turns to him, he lets out a small, throaty yowl of agitation.]

You're not seeing things. This is... how I appear, currently. It is incredibly uncomfortable.

[adventageous]

It's a promise, then. I look forward to it.

[Hanging out with a cat and feeding him fish sounds much better than their current state. Alice is happy to add that to her list of motivators in getting through this hell.

The confirmation of his condition is both a relief and a source of concern. Alice isn't losing her wits, but... well, it doesn't look seem a pleasant state to be in. And he confirms as much.]

It looks uncomfortable. I'm sorry you're like that right now.

I don't know if you're the sort of cat that likes to be petted, but if you are that might help?

[If it comes off as patronizing, she doesn't mean it to. It's an earnest offer, based on how being near others has helped her throughout her time down here.]

[themogget]

[He wasn't looking for sympathy, but he finds that hearing it is a little soothing in its own way. A little patronising, sure, but he doesn't sense any malice or mocking in her words.]

I would normally not be that sort of cat.

[That is, he will allow people to pet him when they don't realise his level of sapience, but not usually once they are aware of it. Right now, though...]

But you may touch me.

[adventageous]

I'll keep that in mind for when we see each other in less exceptional circumstances.

[And with that, Alice reaches over and gently scratches him behind one ear. For all of his physical distortion, he still feels like a cat. There's something simple and comforting about the fact that she's spending time with a small, soft creature despite how they both currently look.

She's a bit of a sucker for small and cute, which helps.]

My name is Alice, by the way. What's yours?

[themogget]

Wonderful.

[He might like that, in more pleasant surroundings and when he doesn't feel like his entire body is about to lose cohesion. Her hand doesn't feel unpleasant when she touches him but it certainly doesn't feel as nice as it ought to. Despite the way he looks, he's very much solid underneath her palm.

And despite himself, he does start to purr almost immediately.]

Mogget. [That is, she can call him Mogget.] Throwing myself into situations like this is not my usual habit.

[adventageous]

It's a pleasure to meet you, Mogget.

[Alice continues to pet him, pleasantly surprised as his solidness. Clearly she's doing something right, because he starts to purr.]

That must make all of this harder. Even for someone like me who does have a habit of throwing herself into things like this... it's been really difficult.

All the more reason we stick together while we see this through, I think.

[themogget]

[It's comforting in its way, even if he feels absolutely dreadful. He sits down while she pets him.]

It isn't a situation where running off alone seems to have any benefit. [The cat admits.]

So it looks like I'm stuck here for the time being. [He doesn't say it could be worse. It's pretty terrible right now. But at least he isn't dead.]

I believe we're close to the end now.

[adventageous]

[Mogget is right, but Alice can't find it in her to say anything to that effect. Wallowing in their circumstances only seems to make things feel worse, even if their struggles are real and valid and difficult. They're stuck until they see this through.

At least they're stuck together.]

I believe so, too. And once this is over, hopefully the world will be that much better for it.

[That's more or less what the dragon implied, anyway.]

And then I think I'll sleep for a few days. I hope you'll forgive the delay on the promise of fish if I end up doing so.

[She's joking. Kind of.]

[themogget]

I fully intend to sleep for at least a week once this is done.

[Mogget is most decidedly not joking, and though the need to eat and drink would interrupt said determination to sleep for an entire week, he fully intends to do nothing more than is necessary for his survival.

He had never really given much thought to how his actions might impact this world. In fact, he hadn't cared, as much as he rarely cares for how he might affect his own world. It's simply the way he is.

But after all this... it had better not come to nothing, or he'll have some serious words to say about it.]

Perhaps longer. I haven't decided yet. And I think it will be some time before I do anything for the Coven again.

[adventageous]

[Alice can't help but give Mogget a bit of an amused look. He's still very cat-like at the end of the day, isn't he?]

You've more than earned the respite. And the time off, as it were.

[They both have, although Alice wouldn't refuse the Coven's call if they need her again. It's not in her nature to.

She starts to yawn, but catches herself. All the talk of sleeping is certainly having an effect--she really is quite tired, and it won't be long until the expedition starts moving again. She gives Mogget one last rub behind the ears before pulling her hand back.]

Speaking of sleep, I suppose we should try to get some now. Or what passes for it, down here. [The nightmare she's been having are no joke.] Thank you for coming to spend time with me, Mogget. I've appreciated your company.

[themogget]

[Normally he wouldn't think he needed to earn anything, but she has a point. Through all of this he has definitely earned the right to a good and lengthy nap, and to have it without anyone bothering him as to just how much he's sleeping.]

... Mm. I've appreciated yours as well.

[But it doesn't really look like he's planning on going anywhere. Rather than stalking off to find somewhere isolated to catch what sleep he can get, he decides to curl up near Alice's feet.]

Sleep well.

[adventageous]

[In fairness, Alice wasn't really looking to shoo Mogget away so much as she was warning him that she intends to nod off. She'll sleep right where she is, as comfortable as she can make herself.

That he chooses to stay is a nice bonus.]

You as well.

[It doesn't take long for Alice to nod off despite the pain of everything. More than anything, she's exhausted.]