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Post by Leni-Aura Thunderpaw on Nov 1, 2022 9:06:58 GMT -5
It gets worse the deeper into the Hauntwood you go, they say.
The Hauntwood has always, to some degree, been thought of as haunted... thus, the name... but the spooks have begun to intensify; sometimes, going so far as to seemingly chase travelers from the depths of the haunt.
She remembers the way the people of Gazablaak had bumbled as they recounted their stories to the merchant Caravan; eyes wide, insistent as they described events far beyond anyone's mortal comprehension: glowing eyes in the shadows of the Hauntwood which linger and watch with a sentience incomparable to animals. Skittering legs resound deep within the flats following travelers insistently as they trudge through the mud. Howls and empty screams echo from within the empty expanse of muck and fog sending chills up the spines of Marsh Flats pilgrims...
They were afraid it was going to get closer and closer to Gazablaak, if nothing was done...
...and then their sad, frightened eyes turned onto the caravan's escort; Leni-Aura, armed and dangerous as she appears, could feel the request coming from a mile away, even before it was asked...
The moon is high in the sky tonight, and the mud of the marsh sticks to her paws and fur relentlessly in patches both wet and dry. Leni-Aura lifts one of her forepaws, ears lowering as she watches thick murk schloff from the pads of her feet by lanternlight. "...Ugh." She wrinkles her nose and drops her paw back into the mud, eyes narrowing as she looks out into the darkness of the Hauntwood. The drumming of wings fills her ears, but it brings no alarm to the small rabbitaur; instead, she simply raises an arm to invite the flying beast to a perch. She hopes this will be worth the week she'll spend combing the dry mud from her coat, but it will not. Winter arriving does not help; the white fur which has grown on her in place of her tan summer coat has become a dirty brown as a result of the mud.
She feels disgusting.
Nimbus' claws wrap around her forearm, and she feels his light weight in full as he folds his wings to his side. A chirp— high-pitched but growing deeper by the day— emits from the baby drake's throat. "Srieh?" (Nothing?) She asks the creature; Nimbus yawns in return, his growing fangs baring as he opens his mouth wide. He looks at her once his jaws have snapped close, his blue eyes illuminated orange in firelight.
"...Srieh." (Nothing.) Leni-Aura breathes a sigh, her scowl briefly turning into a smile as Nimbus fondly headbutts against her cheek while he does a toddling crab-walk onto her shoulders. "This is a waste of our time, mati." She withdraws her arm to her as Nimbus steps onto her pauldrons and coils his lithe body around her neck and shoulders. His tail dangles beyond her chest-plate, head raised to look out at the darkness; he grows by the day, no longer quite the tiny baby he was... but still very youthful. In another year, she will be unable to carry him like this.
She'll miss it.
Fog coils around Leni-Aura's paws, illuminated an eerie orange by lantern light; and far beyond the bare branches of the Marsh Flat's grove, the full moon is high in the sky.
"Not even the dead would wish this as their final resting place."
She does not even begin to consider— not yet— that perhaps it is not the dead which she is chasing out here.
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Post by Veliky on Nov 1, 2022 15:27:44 GMT -5
There's a foreboding lack of life in the Hauntwood, on this night. No critters stalk the undergrowth but pitiless arthropods; and the owls and raven give no token of their presence, if they bear presence at all. It is so quiet that the silence is like an entity of its own, seething at the insults that are Leni's and Nimbus' disturbances.
So little is moving here - even the fog is a still blanket - that the bog is like a painting, or a corpse.
But; while unusual, and perhaps even unnatural; is it paranormal? That, and much more, awaits to be seen.
The mist is vexed by Leni-Aura's movements as she wades through mud. One often finds that the fog clings to them, like forlorn spirits drawn to life, yet these wisps seem averse to the rabbitaur and her scaled companion. It's as if...
Suddenly, something grabs Leni-Aura by the leg and pulls her down! The feeling is wet and cold, like... like water. It's only a stream, so meek and quiet that it couldn't be detected, even in the silence of the swamp. Its flow seems to carry the mist with it: a river of clouds. It would be beautiful if it weren't so ominous.
Only several yards away, the mist pours over the edge of a ledge in a shrouded waterfall. It is fortunate that it does, as well; there would be no other indication of the cliff's presence. At the bottom of the falls lies a shallow pool. Strangely, the pool is bridged by a wide set of wooden planks. Such a thing would be a common sight in or near Gazablaak, but this is some distance from there...
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Post by Leni-Aura Thunderpaw on Nov 2, 2022 21:55:28 GMT -5
The silence stretches.
Leni-Aura drags her gaze over the expanse of writhing fog in front of her; one paw after another, in steady motion— until she plunges. A gasp escapes the rabbitaur’s lips as something drags her off the bank of the bog’s muddy peak, and down into a stream of cold water below. Water erupts around her from the impact zone, and she sucks in a breath as the chill sinks into her fur— Nimbus flutters above her, chittering nervously after leaping off her shoulders to avoid the stream. “ Ugh…” Leni-Aura steadies herself on an elbow, looking at the drake while he looks back at her with big blue eyes. She lowers her ears, gazing at the stream she’s fallen into; the water is crystal clear in comparison to the muck of the bog. Leni-Aura rolls onto her stomach and pushes up to her paws; mud schloffs from her damp fur, and clouds the clear water. “ Naas shresh…” (This place…) She takes a breath to calm her temper as she brushes droplets from her pauldrons and follows the flow of the water with her gaze. Mist rolls around her legs, thick like clouds as it follows the stream; she looks further ahead, and notices the way it falls off the edge. Slowly, Leni-Aura steps through the smooth stones, leaving clouds of mud to swirl and writhe in the crystalline pool beneath the clouds. She stops when she’s close, peeking over the edge to witness… a pool down below, bridged by wooden planks. She narrows her eyes; it’s a sign of life, certainly— but it’s quite far from Gazablaak, isn’t it? Wings beat over her head, and she feels the weight of Nimbus drop onto one of her pauldrons. Quietly, she moves to step back into the muddy earth outside of the stream. It takes her some time to find a way down. Rocks and pebbles tumble away from her paws as she presses cautiously to the cliffside; she drags her hand along the rockface, ensuring she has some form of hold as she steps between unsteady footfalls. She leaps down the last few feet, landing with a heavy thud against the earth on one side of the pool; Nimbus swoops down to join her, landing on her back as she moves towards the makeshift bridge to investigate…
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Post by Veliky on Nov 3, 2022 11:26:33 GMT -5
The planks, adding to their oddity and contrast against the remote swamp, are fairly new, if soggy. The bridges they form are wide and well-tread, but not by any human foot; they are lined from end to end with the gouged marks of wicked claws.
Acting as a checkpoint between two sets of planks is a tiny island in the midst of the pond. It is almost completely covered with taloned footprints. Most were travelling south, though some were travelling northeast, in the direction of Gazablaak; and some are dug deeper into the mud than others.
The pond ripples subtly under the gentle force of the streamfall. The mist scatters at the base, revealing the clear waters beneath. The water is, indeed, oddly clean. But something else is awry - subtly so, but still noticeable, and grabbing one's attention when seen. In the water, set equidistantly are eight tiny, shallow depressions, completely unmoving. The ripples circumnavigate the depressions, as if they were physical obstacles.
What could cause such a thing? Of course, it's always best to consider natural possibilities first. Perhaps there's something beneath the water, a fissure that somehow draws the water in. But it is rather strange, how the water seems to flow around them. It's almost as if...
SCREE! SCREEE! SCREE!
The investigation is loudly interrupted by the screeching of some tiny creature: a bat. Whatever startled it, it swoops down from the trees, flapping its wings frantically. It's barely there longer than a second before it flutters off, into the night, screaming all the way.
It was strange and startling, to be certain; more off-putting yet is that, for a brief moment, it appeared that the bat had eyes of pure red... But it was only a fleeting fright. And, with luck, it will be the strangest thing Leni encounters on this expedition.
...
The water is clear. The depressions are gone.
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Post by Leni-Aura Thunderpaw on Nov 4, 2022 15:51:25 GMT -5
This is most definitely weird, right? Leni-Aura narrows her hazel eyes, paws resting at the lip of the stream’s bank, as she looks at the gouge marks; they’re deep, deeper than what she would expect most harmless creature to make. Her mind drifts back to the displacer beasts of Moonglade; their claws could leave gauges so deep, but… are they native to this area? She has no idea. They could be. Still, they don’t seem like animal tracks… Chittering over her shoulder catches her attention, and she looks back towards Nimbus. “ Sto sa un?” (What is it?) she asks; the little drake’s eyes are focused on the water. She follows his eyeline, ears tilting back when she sees the depressions in the water… this is odd; she does not know much about natural bodies of water, admittedly, but she knows they do not usually do this. Slowly, Leni-Aura reaches for the spear on her back, intending to poke at the odd, but empty space when— SCREE! SCREE! SCREE!A flash of sparks discharge from the surface of her skin; her eyes glow blue as she lashes out with her spear towards the air, narrowly missing the bat in its frantic, panicked fluttering— but instead, catches herself off balance in her attack. There’s a loud splash as she slips from the bank, and drops into the clear water. Leni-Aura emerges moments later, gasping from the chill, fur and hair dripping as she climbs from the water. “ Mitchin!” (Gods!) she spits, her heart thrumming in her chest while she unleashes a string of halfling curses that would most certainly make Orym blush. She flicks her hands and shakes her rabbit-half, sending water droplets scattering across the dirt and soggy planks.
When she is done, she realizes that Nimbus is not here.
“Mati? Nimbus?” she calls; from the darkness, her drake swoops into view, blue eyes glowing— he has given apparent chase to the bat, but to no avail. He returns with nothing clamped in his jaws... or maybe he already ate it whole— she’s not sure which. She looks back to the water from over her shoulder; the depressions are gone, but… she doesn't know if it’s because she disturbed something, or scared something off. Nimbus chitters from his branch across the way as if he wants her to come forwards, and Leni-Aura breathes a slow sigh; the claw marks head in his direction…
She keeps her spear out as she crosses the soggy planks carefully, and follows Nimbus after where she presumes the bat had fluttered off to.
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Post by Veliky on Nov 4, 2022 21:57:09 GMT -5
Silence again...
Looking back on the past, to be assailed by the screeching of an infernal bat was akin to being assailed with iced water on a scalding day: unwelcome in the moment, yearned for in recollection.
Past the gnarly bridge, the raised land on the right almost meets another on the left, as if reaching for one-another, forming a foreboding vale that leads farther and longer than a traveller hopes. It feels as if, at any moment, some predator could prowl through the overhanging moss: constant, looming danger.
Perhaps thirty minutes pass, enough time for trepidation to degrade into wear. There is a saving grace in this place: where the rest of the swamp had been mudded and gross, this valley is remarkably trodden by the same taloned feet as before; the ground beneath is packed and solid, if moist. There is, at least, no threat of suddenly plunging one's leg thigh-deep into hole.
And there've been no more oddities, no more sudden and rude introductions. But still, there is the anxious question that begs to be ignored: where does this trail lead that so many sought?
...There's a change. The vale passes a rounded wall - not unusual. But, when the wall is passed, a single shadow brings, with it, a chill. The silhouette of a man steps forward, holding a lantern that radiates a blue, smothered glow. Perhaps it would not be so daunting, were it not for his round eyes of pure, nigh-luminescent red.
He stops, he stands, he stares... and then he's gone: vanished into nothingness. His ghastly lantern squelches in the mud, its handle rattling in its setting.
The iron torch sits, embedded into the mud. The little light within flickers... what natural fire could burn blue? And, looking closer, it's a strange little device: a hooded lantern, but with a strange button on its top...
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Post by Leni-Aura Thunderpaw on Nov 10, 2022 20:13:05 GMT -5
The silence falls heavy; the beating of the drake’s wings and the stifled pawsteps of the rabbitaur are the only sounds that lift above the ambiance of the swamp… but even that is oddly silent in comparison. Leni-Aura’s ears lower, catching the blip of something dipping below the waterline beyond the sturdy, well worn path.
She takes a breath to steady herself, fingers tightening around the haft of her spear as she walks— armed and ready. Not because she’s scared, of course, that would be absurd! Just… she wants to be prepared. That’s all.
She follows Nimbus for some time until the baby drake grows tired; he flaps back to her, resting on her back as she follows the beaten path without a guide. For some time, she goes on like this; she scans the horizon for signs of movement, but outside the stray gale which rustles the branches above, all is quiet.
Too quiet.
Still, she is not a coward: she plans to see this through to the end.
She rounds a corner, stepping alongside the vale; but as her eyes lift towards the wall, a chill runs down her spine. She hears Nimbus as a small, alarmed “Crrp!” escapes his jaws from next to her ear; she swings around to face a shadow, hazel eyes wide. “Halt!” she snaps; lightning scatters from her figure, fur rising along her body as she grips her spear. “Don’t take another—” she chokes on the demand, her shocking blue gaze meeting the silhouette’s piercing red…
… And then, it’s gone.
She winces backwards, pointing her spear where the silhouette had once stood, but… it’s gone. In its place, is… an iron lantern? Leni-Aura furrows her brows, legs drawn together as she stares skeptically at the fire within it. “... Sto?” (What?) Like walking on thin ice, she steps forwards; then another, and another…
…and then, with the blunt of her spear, she taps the button on the top of the lantern.
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Post by Veliky on Nov 12, 2022 16:27:43 GMT -5
Shink
At the press of the button, the blue flame's glass covering snaps open, exposing its azure lull to the humid air. But the Autumn chill does not abate it. Instead, like a prisoner released from his cage, it slowly creeps forward, feeling the edge of its platform with claws of ghastly fire. Pulling itself out and onto the mud, it grows as if feeding and spreading, its luminosity rising until it is like a bonfire! A tendril of flame trails into the lantern's cage, tethering the entity to it. The fire gives off no smoke, nor heat, nor crackle nor any other token of familiar hearth, for it is no more alive than it is inanimate. And when it rises to its height, its true nature is unveiled: limbs, like arms, of the ghastly flame peel out and the bonfire takes the shape of a man, tall and ominous. It does not peer at Leni-Aura before it, but, without eyes, what sign could it give that she has been seen?
Then, a sound comes from the iron lantern in the mud. In quality, it resembles the twisting of tiny cogs, like the turning of a key in a music box. Then, four rapid clicks and a pause... then, a voice, beginning as a whisper before coalescing into a chorus like burning firewood, as if echoing in inverse. "Are you. Lost?" Its speech is spaced wrongly, like a child learning to read, and it sounds as uncannily artificial as the lantern itself.
"Follow." It turns, but it does not; a subtle change in its posture is all it does, and it is facing away. It slowly lurches over to grab and lift the lantern with its incorporeal appendage: a strange notion, as its own form is beyond illuminating. With its prison in hand, it crawls - if such a word could be an apt description - forward. The only sound it produces is the gentle creaking of the lantern.
It isn't long before its azure glow banishes the fog to reveal something beyond the veil. Standing at the edge of the trench is the lifeless visage of an old, decrepit house. The windows of the upper floor stare back like eyes, dotted with sky-blue pupils: a reflection of the fire-entity's own light. And, on a high porch, its double doors stand open like the maw of a beast.
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Post by Leni-Aura Thunderpaw on Nov 17, 2022 22:07:30 GMT -5
Shink!Leni-Aura spooks, bouncing into the air upon the sound of the glass covering opening; she wields her spear liberally, staring wide-eyed and furrow-browed at the claws which emerge from the opening. She hears Nimbus squawk from over her shoulder, wings outstretching to make himself look bigger while he’s perched on her shoulder. “ Nesh! Man ekk sem tella!” (Halt! Don’t come any closer!) The fire spreads across the mud, illuminating Leni-Aura and Nimbus in its eerie blue glow as it rises; she furrows her brows, stamping her paws firmly in the mud and refusing to give up her own ground… not until it roars like a bonfire, tethered only to the chamber of the lantern that she has already forgotten about. She takes a pace back, narrowing her eyes while it becomes something else. Something much more humanoid. She looks at the thing, aiming her spear at its chest— but it most certainly isn’t afraid of her— in fact, it barely acknowledges the hostility. Her eyes flicker down towards the box at the clicks, then lift back to the creature; and then it speaks, its legion of a voice bouncing off hollow atmosphere. “ I…” she hesitates, ears laying back; and before she can fully respond, its features disappear, and it directs her to follow. It takes her a moment to realize that it’s turned. She watches it; her body is curled into a slight grimace, spine arched and fur on end, while she witnesses it lurch and crawl away. Its lantern creaks ever-so-slightly with its movement, azure light reflecting off of the trees. She doesn’t realize she’s been holding her breath until she sucks it in, and breathes a shuddering exhale; Nimbus whimpers next to her, coiling his tail around her neck. “ Shh… Un sa yeh, un sa yeh.” (Shh… It’s okay, it’s okay.) she murmurs, ears lowering as she looks at the retreating figure of the light. Nimbus wriggles uneasily, but she starts to move forwards nonetheless— shaking the weight of stones from her paws with each movement towards the ghostly apparition, until the decrepit old house comes into view. It’s ancient; on the verge of becoming reclaimed by nature; nothing more than a phantom of days long past… and the sight of it, too, sends a shudder up her spine.
After a moment of silence, she hesitantly speaks.
“ What… are you?” she asks the lantern, turning her eyes away from the house before she can lose her nerve. “ What is here?”
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Post by Veliky on Nov 19, 2022 18:44:19 GMT -5
In its approach, the flame is like the setting sun: steady and gradual. It seems to consume heat as a fire does wood, chilling the air around itself. The lantern swings gently; it's a modern thing, devoid of rust and wear, and so its soft movements are nearly silent. Indeed, it would be quiet in entirety, if not for the voice's return.
"There is no 'you.' It is Moonlight."
Like the slime of a slug, the being leaves tiny flames in its wake, their existences fleeting, as it glides up the ancient and waterlogged steps.
"Here is... wordless. It knows only where it must go. It knows the way to Her."
It reaches toward the door with a fiery appendage. Tongues of flame, like slithering fingers, wrap around the rusted knob, which grinds as it turns. In turn, the door screeches and opens, as if in agony, as if its hinges were broken bones being twisted with cruelty. The maw now stands open, inviting, welcoming.
The being's light spills into the room beyond. Within, not a soul has dwelt in decades: in the dilapidated den, crumbling chairs are placed around a dusty table, upon which is spread a feast of insect eggs and rat droppings; collapsed stairs once ascended to the second storey; and three empty doorframes lead elsewhere.
Yet people have been here; mud has taken to form taloned footsteps on the rotten planks, the same shapes as those before. They are scattered and confused by myriad origins and destinations.
The flame lingers in the centre of the den. Its movements, now faint, have lost intention. It has gone as still as a flame can be, and its illumination casts eerie, flickering shadows onto the walls.
"Here. We are here."
The house creaks and groans. Is it merely settling, or are they not alone?
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Post by Leni-Aura Thunderpaw on Nov 25, 2022 18:45:47 GMT -5
"Moonlight?" she repeats; her voice is small and uncertain. She doesn't quite understand what it's trying to say in response to her question... Is Moonlight its name? Is it what it is? Certainly it's not moonlight, because it leaves behind embers of flickering silver flame... or, is it? For the most part, the entity seems docile; and so, she follows its beckoning.
She keeps her ears lowered while she keeps the flickering entity at the corner of her eyes. Her pawsteps are slow, careful to avoid the remnants of embers that the creature leaves in its wake. "What do you mean 'wordless'? Who is her?"she presses, a frown on her lips. She stops sharply, looking up the short staircase of the porch as the entity rises up them without a single step. A soft whimper rises in Nimbus' throat, and she looks worriedly at the beast; reaching up with a hand to rest it against his neck.
"Bruseh, bruseh..." (Hush, hush...) she murmurs, leaning her head against the drake's cheek as she steps up the stairs after the Moonlight. She keeps hold of her spear in the other hand, tempted to test the beast's ephemeral nature with its point, but not willing to enact its wrath if she is wrong about its seemingly docile nature. She watches warily as the maw of the home creaks open; the doorframe is gnarled, hinges broken; it shrieks as it swings open. Dust dances in the Moonlight's silver linings; and light spills into a home which has surely not seen true care or love in some time. The building is practically falling apart at the edges; its furniture is crumbling and broken; and it's infested, reclaimed by nature. She wrinkles her nose, lowering her ears as she slowly and hesitantly steps forwards. Ancient, rotten boards creak underneath even her light weight; her paws angle on dried patches of mud, formed into odd talons leading into the home... A chill runs up her spine. She doesn't want to go in here, she realizes; this is stupid! But... she's not a coward; and she would not be able to live with herself if she were to back down and flee with her tail between her legs... damn. She takes a breath, urging her heavy paws further into the home. "Where... is here?" she mumbles to the entity; it seems to have stopped moving, suddenly more flame than entity.
She looks at its motionless form for a moment; and her ears lower. The house groans, its old bones aching from its mere existence: but in the darkness beyond where the silvery light reaches, could there be something else out there? She narrows her eyes, shuffling her paws to turn towards one of the empty doorways without fully turning her back to the lantern-being. There could be something out there, in the shadows... lurking... and it makes her uneasy. She feels cold, hackles raised— but still stubbornly remaining. Leni-Aura adjusts her hold on her spear, taking a breath to steel her nerves when she thinks she sees something shifting behind the empty doorway.
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Post by Veliky on Dec 1, 2022 18:07:14 GMT -5
The eerie, blue light wavers upon and throughout. It's like that light which reflects off the ocean's shimmering waves, or as the simple refraction of a glass of water: alien and wondrous.
Creaks and groans are sarcastic messengers, telling the presence of unseen threats but with suspect validity. Nothing has happened - not yet.
And in the foreboding calm, the flame stands stoic and still. There's no passion in its being, in its movement nor its voice. It feels no fear for this place, if it even has capacity for such thoughts and feelings. It is, truly, as if a torch were given life, yet all the joy and terror was withheld in the bestowal.
Its voice is a disturbance, every note of its unnatural melody too noisy in the dark and the unknown. "The scratch taught it words so that it could share what little it knows, and so that it could understand when others spoke. It taught it 'there' and 'here.' It taught 'up' and 'down.' It taught 'chirp-chirp' and 'zzzz.'" The sounds are harsh, mechanical and blatantly out of place. Yet there's something oddly familiar about them. "And it taught the titles and their meanings: she is 'mistress,' you are 'civilian.' But the scratch taught no words for this place. Here is wordless."
The flicker of the azure light becomes more dizzying as one stares longer. The walls and ceiling begin to seem more warped, and not only because they are made of ancient wood; it's like peering through a glass of water.
The flame moves - startling after such a long stillness. It cannot be known how or from where it sees; if one believes that the lantern's aperture is congruent with an eye, then it peers into the room ahead. If one listens closely enough - through the groans of the ancient edifice, through the hush of the wind, through the gentle swaying of the lantern - one can hear a peculiar sound, rhythmic yet muffled...
"Her is she and she is..." It pauses. So it does think. "She is a person. It does not have many words for those that are persons. Before the scratch, it could not see the differences between them. It knew only burning. All that burned were fire; there was no 'one.' The scratch taught how to tell one person from another. But this is difficult for it. Even now, it struggles to understand how you and her are not the same."
The lantern swings gentle in the flame's revolving appendage until the inner light flickers over Nimbus, then Leni.
"She has a name. The others also have names. You... are two. Do you... two... also have names?"
Nimbus takes shelter behind Leni-Aura's armour, blanketed by strands of her flowing hair. There is a sensation beyond any scent or sight that burrows into its mind, plaguing its thoughts. Its barrier, however stalwart and however much she tries to deny it, is feeling the very same dread.
It's with pronounced hesitation that she introduces herself and her little, scaled friend. And the fire listens as a fire does: wavering, but without any token of emotion or even acknowledgement - no token but its words.
"Leni-Aura Thunderpaw. Nim...bus. You each have four legs, but only Leni-Aura Thunderpaw has two arms. That is enough for it to remember. Easier than the others."
The lantern rises, looming like the head of a troll and leering just as menacingly.
"The others walk on two legs. And each of them has two arms. It cannot know them apart. She is the same, but... fainter, like an ember... She is called Mistress-"
THUMP!
It stops at the noise from the adjoining room, that echoes around the darkened aperture. Something shifts beyond. There is a hisssss, like that of a snake, and it is gone.
The flame slowly turns, eerily and fearless.
"The others are here."
All the dinge and dirt becomes meaningless. The grime no longer bears any revulsion, for a far more piercive geist has taken hold: danger. Three doorways and not enough to see them all: it can be heard, but not seen. Which creaks are the creaks of an ancient abode? Which groans are the groans of footfalls? It is coming, but from where?
The cold light is the only solace. It reaches into the darkness like a child in the night, trying to make sense of it... But there is no sense to be made.
THUMP!
The sound comes from the darkness over the vile counter. Another red herring? No. The hiss returns, but does not distance. It grows closer, rhythmic and louder! And in the shadowed doorway, they appear: eyes of burning crimson, leering down.
It marches forth with the bearing of a starved demon, and all the intention! It extends, forward, a hand - a skeletal, lifeless hand - to Leni-Aura and her delicate ears. It lunges!
Clunk, clack-THUMP, clatter!...
...It collapses face-first onto the ground, knocking over the crumbling chair that had been its downfall. And there it lays, motionless. Indeed, had it been a lunge at all, or some dramatic tumble...?
And what manner of being is this? Its hands that had seemed skeletal, wiry though they may be, are not made of bone, but metal. Among things that walk on two legs, it isn't terribly daunting - smaller than a human, though much taller than a dwarf. Hairless, thin, with taloned feet, crimson eyes and unbreathing: it is a strange sight to behold, unfamiliar... that is, until its voice brings undistant memories.
"Civilian Leni-Aura, command, Priority Copper: leave this establishment immediately."
The lantern-being is far less surprised by the sight of the being, yet just as familiar.
"Leni-Aura Thunderpaw and..." It hunts for the name. "Nimbus... were lost outside. It brought them here so that they may rest."
With many a click, hiss and grind of mechanical parts, the Blixtbot™ slowly rises to its feet. With its red lenses, it stares emotionlessly at the lantern.
"Unit Moonlight-01, correction: our directive is to dissuade civilian traffic in this area. Your actions are in violation of a Priority Copper order."
The lantern lowers, as if slouching.
"...It apologizes. It believed that these civilians' safety would override the command."
"Report: Civilian Leni-Aura's combat capabilities have been documented in the past. She and her companion were not any danger immediate enough to override our directive."
The lantern droops yet lower.
"It apologizes again. It was not aware."
With an odd, scratching noise like the turning of a key in a music box, the Blixtbot™ turns its head to Leni-Aura and Nimbus.
"Civilian Leni-Aura, command, Priority Copper: immediately leave this establishment or I will be forced to take aggressive action."
In great spite of its threat, the bot is unarmed, unarmored and doesn't appear any stronger than Blixtbots™ Leni has seen in the past - ones that she saw easily dispatched by a certain pack of displacer beasts. The only difference in its design is... it's wearing a backpack?
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Post by Leni-Aura Thunderpaw on Dec 5, 2022 13:49:39 GMT -5
Shadows flutter in the room beyond as cold and unwelcoming as the fog rising in the marsh. A haunting glint of blue light glints against broken glass and metallic embellishments. Leni-Aura listens to the broken voice of the lantern as she gazes into the shadows born from the night; one ear swivels to catch its haunting tone. Slowly, the Rabbitaur turns back towards it again— but she keeps the shadows of the doorway in her peripheral vision. She takes a slow step back to keep all dark corners of the room within easy view… but as the ethereal ember speaks, it chirps and buzzes in a way that doesn’t quite fit as example, but… why does it give her heart a flutter?
She recognizes this somehow, doesn’t she? She furrows her brows, searching its expressionless persona for some hint of… something, but there’s nothing. It’s all nothing. It fills her with a chill that creeps along her spine as it continues to speak; its lantern swings towards her and Nimbus. She shuffles her paws, seeming like she wants to take a step back, and then she doesn’t. She settles her weight firmer into the rotted wood— she doesn’t weigh much, but it creaks beneath her when she does so. “ I… am Leni-Aura; Leni-Aura Thunderpaw. This is Nimbus.” she introduces herself and her cowering companion when it requests, although hearing it repeat their names back gives her yet another drafting chill across her skin. Her hackles rise as it speaks. She does not plan to correct it when it says Nimbus has four legs— he has two, the other are wings— but what are the details when you’re faced with something like this? Would it be mad at her? Or more confused? She furrows her brows, listening to it describe the others… The other… what’s? There’s more of them? More of what, though….? Other ghosts? She scrambles at the sound of a thump. Dread— icy, freezing— seeps into her veins as something clunks through the darkness. Leni-Aura’s eyes widen, tripping over her own paws when she retreats from its heavy steps. She reels back, flipping her spear from over her back and shoulder to prepare for a fight; and as its skeletal hand reaches towards her, she rears back— — only to hear its voice.
The whirrs.
The clicks. Like the lightning that crackles from Leni-Aura’s spear, it shocks her. The wood beneath her paws creaks and groans as she slams back into the ground on all fours; the ice in her veins heats, turning into something more volatile when she starts to connect all of the pieces. Even Nimbus, previously shrank back, seems to recognize the Blixtbot™ as it rises to its feet; and although frustrated lightning crackles from Leni-Aura’s fur and eyes, Nimbus squeaks at it— recognizing it as not necessarily a foe, but a friend. “ You’ve got to be kidding me! It’s you!?” she snaps, one hind paw cracks into the rotted floorboards, snapping it beneath the weight of her tantrum. The Blixtbot™ seems to be scolding their guide for taking them in; but with the fear of the unknown come to pass, she’s found her courage in the face of something familiar. The rabbitaur flattens her ears, “ No, I am not leaving the establishment—” she answers staunchly; her hazel eyes, tinted blue with webs of lightning, scan the Blixtbot™— she recognizes it as different somehow, but doesn’t quite understand how. “ —not without speaking to Veliky. Is she here in this gods-forsaken swamp? She is, is she not?”
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Post by Veliky on Dec 11, 2022 16:10:42 GMT -5
The electric glow of Leni-Aura's ire flickers on the mechanical man and its lensish eyes. Within its steel skull, clockwork conceptions are stirred, its thoughts truly audible in the form of strange grinding. It doesn't flinch or falter; whether it fears at all, in any of its forms, is a question for the wise. But it has paused - for whatever purpose, it has.
Then, its voice washes through the room, one more, bathing Leni-Aura in its low, lifeless croak. "Report: you are refusing to vacate the premises. As authorized by Copper Protocol, I will now initiate aggressive action."
But what can it do? It has no weapons, no armour. Its threat would seem hollow - hollow like its plastic heart. It would seem hollow if not for its peculiarity; what cruel innovations has Veliky had incorporated into this artificial being? To a question with infinite potential answers, no guess is prudent. The golem gives no hints, only a click, click, click, click...
Beep!
And it runs. Its knees groan in artificial pain as it turns and hightails it out of the room, feet clanking furiously against the ground! In spite of its clunkiness and clumsiness, it's shockingly quick in flight. It charges out of one of the doors and its hydraulic footfalls grow quieter and farther away.
...Where is it going? It didn't go upstairs, nor did it go outside - its footfalls aren't accompanied by the expected squelching of mud. But this isn't a large house at all; where could it have-
Clank, clatter-crunch BAM, clang clank BOOM gong CRASSHH!
Questions are interrupted by noises like a kitchen in an earthquake, coming from the same direction that the golem took. It is assuredly no coincidence that its footfalls have ceased. Oddly, although it's audible from that doorway, it is far more audible through the hole in the floor that Leni-Aura created.
The fire-being stirs. Despite being the only source of light in the room - and, by far, the most imposing - it was easy to forget about in the strange encounter. It sways its lantern so that the azure spark within faces Leni-Aura, directly.
"You already know the Mistress's name. You already know about the others. Two more anomalies for it to ponder."
Then, slowly and meticulously as a fire spreads, it turns to the doorway that the golem left through, and begins to creep out of the room.
"If what the other said is true, then you are both safe. And its duty is fulfilled. It must return to her, now."
Its glow disappears around the doorway's corner. It slithers across the rotting floor with all the technique of a serpent, bringing itself to another doorway in the other room. But this one isn't like the others; it has a door upon its hinges, and this door has been painted to resemble the surrounding wall with uncanny similarity. And it leads not into another decrepit chamber, but into a darkened passage that leads down, down and down again: a staircase of solid wood, not the rotting planks of the residence above, leading beneath the earth. From within, a strange and rhythmic beeping is audible, reminiscent of the Blixtbots'™ same noises.
The sudden change in architecture is both jarring and fascinating. Strange supports line the mud-walls and mud-ceiling like a ribcage. The innovation is assuredly a necessity; no ordinary structure could descend below the damp surface of the Marsh Flats. But the steps aren't free of mud; muddy, taloned footprints line them up and down.
The beeping grows louder, clearer, with every downward step taken until the bottom of the staircase can finally be glimpsed. There is the noise's source: that Blixtbot™, identifiably the same by the tin backpack lying beside it, lies in a broken heap. While its anatomy isn't what one would call normal, the dents in its body tell a clear enough story - a terrible tumble down the staircase. The red glow has faded from its eyes, but it continues to emanate that awful noise, indicating some modicum of whatever its equivalent of 'life' may be. Still, if it were an obstacle before, it isn't any longer.
The flame pays the scrap no heed, fiery form washing over its broken parts and leaving it in its wake. It continues down a surprisingly wide corridor of the same make and qualities as the staircase. Only, rather than there being wooden stairs to tread on, the muddy floor is bridged with long sheets of tin, each stamped with dozens of muddy footprints, including some suspiciously tiny boot marks.
The corridor leads to an ominous, iron doorway. From beyond, the strangest sounds can be heard: clinks, crishes, crunches. What could beget such confusion? All that stands in the way of revelation is this iron door.
And so, the knob is turned the door squeaks open.
...
Moonlight's glow spills into the room, only it isn't necessary here. The muddy, low-ceilinged chamber beyond is lit by lanterns, sitting in the grime. Bridges of those same tin sheets trail from place to place, allowing for more comfortable travel. And standing, walking and sitting at every part of the room are Blixtbots™. So many Blixtbots™.
The presence of Blixtbots™, at this point, is no surprise. But their quantity? There must be at least a dozen, from the rank-and-file infantry to more bestial ones, like canines and spiders. A particularly familiar bot lies approximately two feet above the ground in the room's corner: Lag Switch, evidently reconstructed and as mind-bending as ever.
One by one, the sources of the sounds become obvious. At the far end of the room is a large vein of some type of ore, buried in the mud. Around it, two Blixtbots™ stand, swinging at it with pickaxes[1] and creating the rhythmic clink. Three more bots are at work on one of the walls, digging away with large shovels and generating the odd crish. But where-
Crunch
Ah. There it is. Near the doorway is a stool, half-buried in the mud. And on that stool sits the culprit herself. Veliky: the minuscule entrepreneur.
Crunch
She's eating a carrot sandwich.
None of the room's inhabitants have yet noticed Leni-Aura or Nimbus, and they barely acknowledge Moonlight as it meanderously glides over the bridge of tin, toward Veliky.
Crunch
She looks up at the flame, wordlessly, mouth full of bread, carrots and some conglomerate of toppings. But, then, her attention wander to the entryway, and her pale eyes finally fall on the intruding Leni-Aura.
...
...
Crunch
She takes another bite. It's really rather difficult to tell what she's feeling behind her cherubic face; in fact, she looks like she's having trouble gauging this herself. She isn't wearing that distinctive hat that she used to, but the rest of her clothes are just as neat and no-nonsense as they've ever been. Of course, she's just as small; even Leni-Aura dwarfs her.
At last, she swallows her bite of sandwich, and it seems she's finally settled on an emotion: bemused sarcasm.
"Can I help you?"
1. Digging Kit
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Post by Leni-Aura Thunderpaw on Dec 13, 2022 12:36:10 GMT -5
A puff of a laugh escapes Leni-Aura’s lips when it threatens her with aggression; her ears lower as she repositions her stance. Paws drawn even with her hips, she slashes her spear through the air; lightning crackles, scattering in an arc with the motion. “Go on. I dare you.” she challenges the Blixtbot™; she’s seen what Veliky’s bots can do before, and even though she’s not keen on fighting a woman to whom she owes the life of her caravan, she…
Hey, wait a second!
The thundering drone of heavy footfall speeds away from their standoff, and Leni-Aura’s ears perk, her stance dropping slightly in her shock. “HEY!” she barks after the retreating Blixtbot™; she leaps after it, but is halted forcibly when one of her paws slips through the rotting wood. With a crack, Leni-Aura falls forwards; she slams her spear into the ground to give herself leverage to catch herself before she hits the floor.
Nimbus launches off her shoulders, squeaking as he swirls around to face her; Leni-Aura is already forcibly pulling her leg from the splintered wood, wincing as it claws through her fur. “Get back here, you…! Ugh!” With a crack, she frees her leg. She stumbles back with the momentum. “You bastard!”
Her insults are met with silence, given the Blixtbot™ is already long gone— having crashed through the darkness beyond the door frame— and off to heaven knows where. She furrows her brows, closing her eyes while she takes a long, deep breath to calm herself; as she does, the flickering lightning skittering across her fur begins to lessen.
She can hear distant voices through the holes in the floor; is that where Veliky is?
She opens her eyes, turning her head slightly when movement glints beyond her line of sight; it’s the fire-being, slowly moving to face her. She frowns, trying to understand its words: but it’s cryptic, and Leni-Aura doesn’t really understand the being’s nature. She steps to the side, allowing the illuminated being to pass in a train of embers.
… But it is going back to her?
She narrows her eyes, slowly moving after the glowing being.
So it’s going back to Veliky, then.
She is here, after all.
Pawsteps on rotted wood become pawsteps on solid wood, leaving her freshly muddied tracks among the dried muck— the evidence of taloned feet ascending and descending. Leni-Aura’s ears perk as she descends the stairs after the flaming entity; beeping grows louder and louder, until she spots the Blixtbot™ who had approached her in the room above lying in a tangled mess. She scoffs at it, leaping softly over its body, before continuing her trek after the glinting flames through an iron doorway… and into a room full of Blixtbot™, their carapaces glinting blue in the light of the thing leading her to where she wants to go.
She furrows her brows, watching the way they swing with pickaxes, like miners beneath the earth, and… there’s the thing that Orym’s wagon had nearly run over that one time. She couldn’t forget its strange nature if she tried; but as her hazel eyes sweep through the corridor, she finally sees her.
Nimbus squeaks out in greeting, but Leni-Aura furrows her brows; her ears lay back as she slowly moves after Moonlight, towards the halfling sitting on her stool. “Veliky,” she states, stopping some paces away on the tin bridge. “What is this? You…” she trails off when she takes another look around the mine…
Her eyes settle on a few things: the crimson, burning eyes of the Blixtbot™, their taloned claws covered in mud, the beep and whirr, and the demand that she leave so urgently… something finally clicks in her head. She had not thought of it at first, but she thinks back to the eyes in the dark, and the feeling of being watched; of talon tracks dug deep into the marsh.
After a moment of realization, she blinks back into the present; her expression falling from frustration, to exasperation. “Is it you?” she asks suddenly, continuing her previous train of thought in a different direction. “You are the one scaring all the people of Gazablaak?” Her brows furrow slightly, the readiness to wield her spear uncoiling as she relaxes her shoulders.
She does not think that Veliky would attack her, despite how brutally she would be outnumbered.
“You understand they think your pets are things from the afterlife? They sent me here to find them.”
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