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Post by Sylva (RETIRED) on Jan 24, 2023 22:59:43 GMT -5
There is a reason that the people of Lilicors call this place the Hauntwood.
The farther that Sylva takes Mistress Veliky into the heart of the marsh, the more obvious the reasoning becomes. In silver rays of moonlight, the gnarled deadwood trees of the haunt stand broken and disheveled in the night; terrible phantoms with clawed arms outstretched and fanged maws gaping. Within their shadows, the creatures of the night lurk; never seen, but heard in their movements; in the snap of a twig, the brush of the undergrowth, or the gulp of rippling waters.
The darkness is suffocating; it claws at the edges of Mistress Veliky’s Moonlight as though desperate to cut into the bright light which bounces off skeleton branches and glints in stalking eyes. It’s constricting, to the human eyes, perhaps downright claustrophobic. A horror story in which to tell: a story of the moaning branches overhead, the scream of the wind, and the unexpected ripples of following footsteps.
But in the darkness, Sylva knows that the wind is singing, beckoning for a harmony with the branches; she knows that the eyes which reflect in the shadows are curious, intrigued by her visitors; she knows that the phantoms with their arms outstretched have lived longer than she— ancient and grandfatherly: full of stories of so many years passed which they are eager to tell, if one only listen.
She knows each and every sound; the fish which breach the surface of the bog water and the frogs which splash beyond the shadows, unseen by Moonlight’s illumination. Within fanged maws, the chicks of an owl sleep, warm and protected beneath the down of their mother; and she hoots quizzically into the night, wide eyes glinting in the cyan light.
It is all so normal, in fact, that she does not think to explain it to her guests; although, if they asked, she would be happy to tell them all of the marsh, from the smallest bug to the largest beast… but there is one thing she would be reluctant to admit, one thing which becomes more noticeable despite its subtlety, as Sylva leads Mistress Veliky further and further into the night.
There’s something wrong.
It’s hard to explain and it’s hard to see in the night; the Hauntwood is naturally a gnarled and wicked looking place; but as they near the heart of the haunt, there’s something… different. Sylva feels the change; she feels the poison bleeding into the roots of the mother, and into the life surrounding her. It’s a throbbing, quiet sort of pain; subtle in the way it bleeds into her, and subtle into the way it bleeds into the undergrowth and the trees surrounding the mother.
Although the Hauntwood is so barren, so twisted, it seems… as though it is growing ill… the life in this place is quiet. The owls do not hoot, the frogs do not splash, the tails of curious mammals do not brush against bark or branches. The moss is browning, and the bark is chipping; branches are cracked at strange angles, and deadwood is visible in the flesh of ancient, gnarled trees.
Here, it grows quiet: and the only life outside of the travelers and their guide seems to be the flickering of fireflies. Like twinkling stars, they blip in and out of the darkness; dancing and swaying to their own rhythm by the dozens and the hundreds… but she knows, too, that they will depart from the mother in time.
As the sickness worsens they’ll flee in beautiful droves of starlight to the unaffected corners of the Haunt. Sylva closes her eyes, a soft sigh escaping slightly parted lips as she slows to a stop; before her, lies a thicket. Thorns and gnarled branches, like a tunnel, extend towards the dryad and her guests; unwelcoming, harsh, and a gaping maw of shadows… as expected of the haunt.
Sylva’s green eyes reflect the cyan of Moonlight as she turns to look at Veliky; and she can’t help but notice that those blue eyes are so much brighter in the reflection of Moonlight. “Mistress Veliky,” she remarks, her voice a chilling echo in the light of the thicket before her. “We’ve reached the mother… but I will extend my invitation once more: are you sure you wish to step into the heart of the haunt? You may turn back if you please.”
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Post by Veliky on Jan 25, 2023 21:44:43 GMT -5
Pervasive shadow, creeping wildlife, and mud: all things that Veliky loathes. The shadows are an unknown, and the unknown can't be factored into the measured arithmetic with which she plans her every action. The wildlife are a constant annoyance, tricking the Blixtbots'™ sensors and causing many an unnecessary hiccup in the journey.
And the mud... need it even be said? It's especially egregious for Veliky, who needs to wade where another might just step. She *could* just hop onto the shoulders of one of her Blixtbots™, who are more than capable of bearing her weight (which rivals an infant's). Only...
She glances her guide: Sylva, that arboreal being that so suddenly appeared and so suddenly changed the course of Veliky's entire evening. Veliky could've been sound asleep by now - she probably wouldn't have, but she could've been. Instead, she's marching in the marching in the tree-woman's tow, surrounded by the mechanical racket of her usual Blixtbot™ escort and lead in the azure nonwarmth of Moonlight[1]. Either way, she's here now, and she somehow feels obligated to keep face in front of this...
What even to call her? 'Tree-woman' won't suffice for long, and 'livien orn' is something of a mouthful. The idea of living, speaking trees wasn't altogether unheard of in the fairytales of her youth. Only; those living, speaking trees were never described as quite so... so...
Veliky looks away, having realized that she's been staring for far too long and with far too little professionalism, trying to pretend away the heat in her face. But she did recall a word: treant. They were trees that walked, and talked, and spoke in about as many riddles as Sylva does. It'll do for now.
Though, now looking into the Haunt itself, Veliky finds herself considering the treant's words again. These grasping branches and dying leaves; she claims that this place is alive? That it breaths? Thinks? Feels?
It seems more like a corpse.
The sudden halt of her company's raucous march grabs her attention. She stops, looks forward, and sees that Sylva has come to a similarly purposeful pause. And what lies before her? 'Foreboding' doesn't do it justice. An aperture in the haunt, a pathway that the very land formed of its own volition. Moonlight's glow hardly challenges the darkness, let alone pierce it. It is an utterly dread-inspiring sight.
Veliky isn't easily frightened. Indeed, she possesses an audacity that far outsizes her. But what does chill her is the realization that Sylva's eyes - those immortal, verdant eyes - are upon her.
“Mistress Veliky, we’ve reached the mother… but I will extend my invitation once more: are you sure you wish to step into the heart of the haunt? You may turn back if you please.”
...A tempting offer, all things considered. And Veliky is one to consider. There could few more baleful omens than an unlit path into unknown reaches. Veliky is a confident woman; Veliky is an intelligent woman; Veliky is a powerful woman. But no amount of personality, cunning or leadership can *guarantee* safety once she steps into the unknown. They can improve her odds, but that doesn't change the uncompromising fact that she would be permitting - even welcoming - a chance for death and other woeful consequences.
But if everything that Sylva said is true, then it could also be an opportunity for an incredibly powerful ally...
This will take some thought. And Veliky doesn't hide that fact, either, going so far as to close her eyes in silent rumination. Raw information flashes before her eyes as she parses, calculates, judges...
Sylva's reliability is, of course, the crux of this question. If she is telling the truth, then following her isn't just permissible, but optimal. But if she's lying, then refusal is imperative. So what does Veliky know about Sylva?
...
Nothing. Hardly a hint, and nothing concrete. Even the fact that she's a tree is theoretically dubious.
But what can be extrapolated? What can be deduced from the interactions thus far with a bit of healthy logic? Well, three questions come to Veliky's mind: What is Sylva's motive? This plan is far too elaborate to be an assassination. What does Sylva stand to gain from Veliky? She claims that she wishes to maintain peace, that she worries that Veliky's expedition may be harmful toward the Haunt. Well, Veliky's heard enough protest-spiels to believe it. But that relies on Sylva's credibility; does she really have the connection to the Haunt that she claims to? This leads to Veliky's second question: Is Sylva really a livien orn, or just using magic to disguise herself? For all Veliky knows, she could just be an orc wearing a bit of illusory makeup. And if this is the case, then everything she's said about the Haunt has been a load of nonsense. So what evidence is there to support her supernature? The eyes and voice could be a simple trick - even Veliky could make her eyes look like that if she wished - and the bark could be a magical garment, like the Morph Suit. Is there anything at all about Sylva that is undebatably supernatural? Well... according to the BF's brief report, the Vampire examined her during their first encounter. While illusions can trick the eye, the Vampire can see using echolocation, detecting only physical features rather than visual phenomena. So illusion is theoretically out of the picture, meaning that Sylva must be a supernatural being of some variety. But that still leaves one question: Does Sylva really possess a connection to the Hauntwood? Even if she's a livien orn, or a treant, or whatever type of flora-thing, that doesn't necessarily mean she's some emissary of the woods. In fact, without evidence, it's more likely that she's just crazy. So what evidence is there to support her claim? She obviously doesn't have the proper documentation, or whatever one would need to be legally considered a tree hugger. Indeed, this may be the most difficult point to prove... except for one tiny detail. The finch: it seems like an ordinary bird, but its relationship with Sylva is anything but. Veliky's seen domesticated birds, and this isn't one of them. Its movements aren't trained, but natural, instinctual. It doesn't view Sylva as a master, but with a certain reverence, like a child toward its mother. The only way to explain this bond... would be exactly what Sylva's been saying all along. There it is - that little, fluttering piece of evidence that ultimately tips the scales in Sylva's favour. Who would've thought.
Well. It doesn't seem like there's anything more to consider. Veliky was worried about this outcome, yet it's somehow satisfying now that she's reached it. Through her nose, she lets out a breath that she's been holding for gods-know-how-long, and she finally reveals her icy irises to meet Sylva's verdant stare.
"Alright." she acquiesces at last, her face a look of stern resolution. "Let's see this 'mother' of yours."
1. (Ghastly Lantern) Moonlight-01
Bringing Minions Bishop-12 (Warlord) Knight-03 (Warlord) Rook-13 (Warlord)
Bringing Pets BF-02 (The Goodest Boy) Vampire-04 (Vampire Bat)
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Post by Veliky on Mar 30, 2023 18:43:03 GMT -5
Dirt. Mud. Fallen leaves. Marching constructs. Puddles. Darkness. In time, it all becomes ordinary. Those little scraps of horror; after a long, long while; join the monotony and then are deigned no more thought. Veliky simply walks along, along, along, through the mud and the leaves and the trees, following a Sylva that she can barely see.She cradles herself. She never thought a swamp could be so cold. She'd always thought of them as sweltering, humid places -- but, then, her only other visit was in the unrelenting Summer. Now, in the Fall... it's like walking through the city at night, seeing the same scenery under such a different guise. And yet, it all becomes the same after too long. And then the trees are not so looming, and the branches are not so oppressive, and the cold is not so bitter. The only reminders of their nature are the memories of places not so ominous.She's grown accustomed to the strange. She realizes this, as she treads through half-frozen mud. She's born witness to that among the strangest, most outlandish, and easily the most dangerous things that most on Charon ever have. She can almost still see them in the reflections of the puddles as she passes by. She's seen men with the heads of flies and the strength of warriors. She's seen living things of only water, only fire, and only light. She's seen innocent people controlled like puppets, and stared their puppeteers in the eyes. She's seen gods in the omnipotent flesh.And now she sees her guide: a womanly tree, or perhaps a treely woman, guiding her to the heart of a supposed 'living wood.' There's so very little that could surprise her, now -- at least, this is what she believes.She lets out a sigh... Is that a bit of mist that it forms? She supposes that Winter isn't so far away....Is Sylva even still there? She'd been facing away, and so Veliky could see those verdant beacons no longer, nor can she see their towering form in the darkness. She'd been watching the arboreal mystery for a time, but then even that became normal after so much walking, walking and walking. How long has she been following this utter stranger?She stops, and the world seems to stop with her. All the sights and all the sounds pause as she takes a simple moment of introspection. She closes her eyes, and little changes. She's in the little realm of near-pure darkness, just behind her eyelids."Veliky... sto goo faa manto?(Veliky... what are you doing?)"The simple question, spoken only to herself, nonetheless carries on an unbidden breeze. It's carried through the branches, between the trees, over the fallen leaves, and away into the unseen reaches of the umbral night. Something heard her -- an unwelcome listener. She knows this to be true, certain in her very bones, even without a shred of evidence. It sends a chill down her spine as she opens her eyes. But when she does, she's greeted with a sight no more comforting. She sees the looming trees, and she sees the oppressive branches. But she sees nothing more, for she now finds herself absolutely and dreadfully alone. Sylva is nowhere to be seen, and even her collective of constructs has vanished without a trace.In that instant of realization, her blood runs cold. Without any servitors to enact her will, she suddenly feels so tiny amidst the looming trees.Her mind races for answers! Who or what did this? What magic could cause her companions to simply vanish in that moment of distraction?Or is it her that's vanished? As she sweeps her eyes frantically yet tactically about, she comes to realize that these aren't the same trees. And there's no trail; only an expanse of ancient wood. Has she somehow been abducted from her party? Or...
It doesn't matter. Or rather, it's something she can consider later. Whatever caused this, it doesn't change the fact that she's alone and in danger. Without Moonlight, she can barely even see. Grimacing, eyes shut tight, hands cupped over her ears, she needs to focus; she just needs to particularize..
One detail at a time.
It's cold. Is it colder than before? She can't quite tell. It feels colder, but fear has a way of chilling the spirit, aided by every gust of stray wind. It's still coming from behind her; and still, she cannot tell if it's meant to encourage or perturb her. Either way, she will not trust it. She can't trust anything, here. Below her feet, the ground is still damp, slowly sucking her in as she refrains from moving.
She slowly opens her eyes. It does her little good; so little can be seen in this darkness. Figures loom, shadows in shadows, and she can't tell if they're moving or if it's only her eyes deceiving her. There isn't so much as an implication of a sky above her. She can't even tell if it's day or night; the branches would blot out the sun.
Steadying her heart as much as she can, she takes the final step by uncovering her ears. The swamp is eerily silent, its dreadful peace unsullied by the symphony of vermin that had plagued it before. There is only the wind, and the bubbling of fetid springs.
...No. There's something else -- faint, but just perceptible. And it's among the strangest sounds that Veliky has ever heard, like somebody screaming into the embouchure of a trumpet.
At first, it unsettles Veliky further, and she steps back. It comes from in front of her -- in the direction that the wind blows toward -- and it's another instance of what is among Veliky's greatest fears: the unknown. She has no clue what could possibly produce such a noise, this disconnected from any form of civilization. And yet...
...
She takes a deep breath, and steps forward. She'd been standing still for so long that it feels as if a layer of stone is breaking on her skin. Earth squelches beneath her boot in a way that makes the acid rise in her throat. For some reason, such a simple step felt so grand -- like such an obstacle. And how many steps will she need to take to reach the source of that sound?
Perhaps it doesn't matter. In time, it all becomes ordinary.
Time passes. She has little apt means of measuring it; it could've been anything longer than a minute and shorter than an hour. Her thoughts strayed little from the task at hand; her focus, by primal instinct, is unwavering. Her only mental energy spared is toward her own safety, obsessively alert for any new sound as she feels her way betwixt the trees and their gnarled bark.The sound is growing louder. Something about its incessancy makes her skin crawl, and yet she follows it feverishly. She must be getting close -- a fact that fills her with both fear and anticipation in infinite duality. And yet she doesn't know why... It's as if she's dreaming. Not once does she stop to question it. Not once does she consider how easily this could be a trick. She simply treads along, her mind unwaveringly focused on keeping a steady footing, as if she were crossing a treacherous bridge -- one across which she is unlikely to return.She's close now. She can hear it from just over a ledge. It's so loud; but there's something else, an accompanying sound that's equally unsettling: a chorus of hissing.As she approaches, she's fortunate enough to realize the presence of a steep, steep slope before she carefully descends. It's here -- just in front of her. She can feel her heart pounding, and yet she can't bring herself to flee. In the shadows, she can just make out the writhing silhouette, lying in the mud, that is the source of both anomalous noises.But what is it...? She squints, trying to adjust her sight to the shadows. In time, it does; colours, grey and green, coalesce into an image that shakes her to her very core. What she sees before her, squirming in pain, is a quadruped whose skin is rough and grey. In size, it easily rivals the greatest of hounds -- a giant by Veliky's standard.
Spoiler: Snakes
But the details are inscrutable, for the sorry beast that squirms and bellows that trumpet-like tumult is whelmed by a swarm of snakes. Dozens upon dozens of snakes bite into its flesh, hissing madly as their forms writhe like a pool of sibilant scales. Weakly raising a strange appendage, the tortured beast releases a piteous cry. How long has it been tormented like this? And why? The serpents aren't killing it. They're just...She doesn't know why, but it makes Veliky's blood boil. She wants to hold every one of them between her leather-bound fingers and pull their jaws apart. But she can't; she couldn't hope to capture them all, or likely even one. But she can make it so that they are gone.Leering down at the sadistic mass, she concentrates all of her vitriol[1]. Her spite saturates the air, and even the serpents can feel its pulp. They immediately abandon their torture of the poor beast and; like rats; scatter into the underbrush, leaving the animal alone.The hissing has ceased, and the trumpeting has waned to become little more than a pathetic whistle. Veliky lets in a deep, satisfied breath, and exhales....But what is this brute creature? She looks down at its grey skin that's marked with infinite holes from needle-like fangs. Among natural creatures, its anatomy is bizarre: its legs end in flat, cylindrical feet with strange nails in stead of claws; its ears are as large as wings; and its nose is a strange, tube-like appendage that curls excrutiatedly in the mud. Veliky realizes that she knows this creature; she's never seen one in the flesh, but she's heard them described by her pon.'An elephant?' It's her first coherent thought in what felt like an eternity, and yet it's plagued by confusion as she studies the specimen before her. 'But it's so much smaller than he said they were... Maybe it's a kid?'
When he'd described elephants to her, Pon had said they were ginormous beasts that could crush an entire family of halflings with a single step. And yet here this juvenile lies, bleeding from countless wounds. Veliky looks away; she doesn't know why, but she can't bring herself to stare into its eyes. Even in the umbra, its pain is as clear as the blue sky of memory. She knows she can't stay, either; she needs to find her way back to Sylva, and find out what caused her own disappearance at all.'But how...?' she wonders as she looks out, into the woods. She can hardly see at all. And even if she could, what indication would she have of where to go?
But then she hears something. It's faint, like a whisper, and not nearly as panicked as this beast's cries from before. It's a voice, murmuring from somewhere far away, between the trees. And it sounds oddly familiar...
'That's right.' she recalls. 'Sylva said to follow the voice of The Mother if I get lost... Not sure how the hell I got lost, but it's worth a try.'
Feeling now more lucid than before, Veliky returns to that cautious gait through the marsh, checking every step and every corner as she follows this new sound. She doesn't give the infant elephant a second glance -- in fact, she can't abandon its pained whimpers quickly enough.
Is there such a thing as a shadow on a moonless night? As she stalks through the desolate reaches of the Haunt, there isn't a single ray of light to guide her. It's only by adjusting her eyesight to this near-perfect darkness that she's able to see at all, and only by that faintest voice that she has any direction whatsoever. And it's only by fortune that she hasn't encountered anything with ill will -- something that would assuredly be better-adjusted than herself. But she's not without her own tricks; if there are any predators in this forsaken place that would hunt her, she will ensure with spite that she is an elusive prey.
But she does begin to wonder just what abducted her from her entourage. Could she have accidentally stepped into some faerie pathway? She's heard of people stumbling upon such things during forays into the wilderness, and crossing over into strange realms. But then, what realm is this?
Or could this be an illusion? She's also heard of witches that can trap people in illusory worlds, enrapturing their minds with dreams -- or nightmares. But if that's what this is, then whose is it, and why? Sylva didn't appear to harbour any ill intent... but, then, could Sylva have been an illusion herself? Something conjured to lure Veliky away from the safety of her camp... If so, then she's fallen for it.
Whatever caused it, it's getting worse. She's come to a place of low cliffs and bottomless pools, but there's something terribly wrong. The air feels stagnant, like a tomb, and the stench of mold pervades her nostrils. And the trees... there's wrong with them. They seem somehow sickly, weaker than the trees elsewhere. And in their dying bark, there are shapes that can't be natural: images of beasts and visages. They weren't hewn; it truly seems as if the trees have grown with these phantoms painting them. But such a thing isn't possible, is it...?
She gives the trees a wide berth. She has no wish to know what would happen if she touched any of those alder phantoms, especially not with how their eyes seem to plead her to do so. She continues on, paying them as little heed as she possibly can.
But then a sound snaps her instantly into alertness. Somewhere many meters behind her, a branch broke on the ground. On instinct, she calls a shimmer and vanishes from sight[2]. She turns back, to a ledge over which she'd just stepped. Something's coming. She can see it slowly walking over the ledge, stepping down with a great splash in the puddle as it approaches...
It's the elephant. The same one -- Veliky can tell by the myriad needle-holes in its flesh.
She allows herself into sight again.
"It's just you... Why are you following me?" She's surprised at the rasp in her own voice. It feels as if it's been so long since she's spoken.
Of course, there's no answer from the creature. It simply continues, weakly galumphing toward her. It's not making those awful sounds anymore, but its pitiful limping still makes Veliky's skin crawl. It seems as if it's barely able to walk, and yet it trudges through the sludge, pushing itself forward. Why?
Veliky needs to stop herself from wincing.
"Stop." she quietly reprimands the creature. "I'm not your mother."
She gives it no chance to reply, if it were even capable of doing so. She just turns her back to it, as she did before, and walks away. Of course, it doesn't listen to her; as seconds turn to minutes of walking, she can still hear the occasional snap of a twig or branch behind her. And whenever she looks back, it's there, forcing itself just to walk. In time, she stops bothering; she knows it's there, and it's better to simply ignore it.Cresting over a slop, she blinks to adjust her eyes and sees a filthy, stagnant pool. Dead algae has congregated at its surface, clotting like blood. They're a single ripple in its surface -- truly lifeless. Yet leafless branches crane down toward it, as if to drink of its fetid broth, rustling heavily in the wind. It catches her eye, though she isn't sure why; something about its virulence stops her. In so long of travel, it's all she's seen of note. Once she abandons it, will she see anything else of its ilk? In this way, it's a wonder of its own.Snap. Yet another signal of the elephant's presence interrupts her already-idle thoughts. She looks back, but not directly upon it."Just leave me alone..." she groans in lament....She should be leaving. That voice is growing stronger, as does that returning sensation of eerie familiarity. It's a feminine voice, calm and gentle. And she can't quite discern what it's saying, but it almost sounds to be singing. And while she can't be sure whether following it to its source will aid or harm her further, she's prepared to face either consequence. She'll need to be cautious, though, as there's little path forward that wouldn't require touching either the revolting pool or the haunted bark. Perhaps there's another way around?
Just then, her attention is drawn back to the pool by a tiny sound -- a little drip, drop of water. At any other time, she wouldn't give it so much as a thought. But the disturbance of the silence, and the sudden unsettlement of the peaceful slime, are equally unsettling to herself. She was just getting used to the silence.
And what's that dripping...? At the centre of the pool, it leaves a black, oil-like stain that grows and grows, overtaking all other colours. It's dripping from somewhere above. And so Veliky looks up... and immediately steps back, in shock.
There's something in the branches. It's a great shape amidst a swirl of inky blackness, wriggling to break free! She's sees a slimy, black form, dripping oil; she sees the upper jaw of a deer and the upper jaw of an alligator, gnashing together; she sees hooves and paws thrashing furiously; she hears the cries of a dozen different beasts!
And then she hears the snapping of wood, as the abomination is born into the pool. The splash sends droplets of diseased water over Veliky, but none could see it -- as she's already vanished[2], on instinct. And she was wise to do so, as the abomination is already rising from the opaque muck. It's a true monster, looming and terrible as the night itself. Within its sunken sockets, there's a verdant glow... a verdant glow that's strangely reminiscent of...
It's looking at her. Those four verdant eyes, full of anathetic life, glare upon her.She steps back, mind scrambling. Can it somehow see her? Did it hear her breathing? Can it smell her? Why? What mistake has she made?It lurches forward, on the amalgam leg of three beasts. Its ubiquitous form quivers in some gestalt emotion, its two-faced skull craning and chattering as it wades through the sludge. The sound it's making is like the babbling of an infant, vaguely pervasive between the yowls that bubble from its oceanic flesh.Veliky remains utterly still, hoping vainly that it might simply ignore her. But as it rises like a tower and its skeletal jaw begins to creak open, she knows that she will have to act or she will die. She's not a fighter; and, without her subordinates, she's no commander. But she can run, and she will.The abomination timbers down, its mass sending great and filth-ridden waves across the pool as hairless hooves dig into the mud and conjoined skulls snap. But Veliky's already vacated, leaping back and abandoning her cloak of obscurity in favour of life! She slips in the grime, but steadies herself quickly -- before breaking into a sprint! The sounds of a dozen bestial cries -- and of a great anomaly slithering through the mud -- are at her heels.Her heart pounds behind her ribs. The creature is faster than her. She doesn't know how; she doesn't want to imagine what locomotion could carry such a form so quickly. In only seconds, her senses are warning her that she's less than a second from a brutal end. Desperately heaving herself, she dives into the roots of a beheaded mangrove just as she hears a crashing. For the second time in only a few brief moments, she's saved her own life.She clambers away from the edges, deeper into the roots, as a triad of appendages claw toward her. But they cannot reach her; she's safe. And she finds a certain satisfaction in the myriad cries of frustration.The limbs retract. Is it over already? Will it leave her?No, of course not. Such a notion is a laughable hope. It can't reach her, but it -- like any predator -- is a patient beast. It will wait for her, knowing that she can't remain cooped forever. Already, it's patrolling around the tree, waiting...But that's fine by Veliky. So long as she isn't in the heat of a chase, she can dedicate her mind fully to escape. She'll find a way out. Whatever nature of animal this is, it's an animal nonethemore. She can depend on her ability to outthink it. She just needs time....Creak... Like the settling of an ancient house. It interrupts her mental processes before they can even begin. Her eyes dart paranoiacally about her hiding place, between the arching roots and above her. She'd been so focused on the creature outside, believing it to be the only threat. But, suddenly, her refuge does not feel so safe.But there's nothing there. At least, there's nothing that her eyes are adjusted to see in the darkness. She damns herself for not bringing a light source... But, by the best of her measurements, there's truly nothing there. She begins to doubt herself; is she simply becoming paranoid?But then something brushes against her shoulder. She jolts away, only to brush against something else that wasn't there before. She can feel the rough texture of wood through her cloth. The creaking returns, filling her ears with dreadful chorus. Dirt is unsettled from the bark, and shapes close in around her.The realization comes to her with a wave of dread. It's the mangrove. It's moving around her, closing like a jaw. She is not safe.With no other choice, she crawls on her hands and knees toward the nearest gap in the roots -- a gap that is growing slighter with every second. Her elbows dig into the soil, and dirt collects in her clenched teeth as serpentine roots attempt to coil around her! For some reason, she feels as if she's choking. But she's so close! Just a bit further, and she'll be free.Fang-like roots come from above, from the edge of the tree, and dig into the ground. Her escape is sealed -- but she feels no fear. Only spite. Gripping the roots like the bars of a cell in her little hands, she feels the spite within her burning! It scalds beneath and upon her skin with a radiant glow[3]! The roots recoil, as if in pain, but unseal her path! By the time they close in again, she's already broken through to the other side.As soon as she escapes, the first thing she feels is falling. She rolls down some slope of dirt, landing roughly on semi-dry ground. By the blood that's rushing through her veins, she stands immediately, knowing well that she's only traded one danger for another.What can she do? She can already hear it stamping its plethoric feet, but what can she do? She feels lightheaded...'Think, Veliky... Just think...' she urges herself. But it's a futile task; it feels as if her mind is moving through water.
'Unless...' There's one thing she'd already considered, but decided against. She wasn't certain that it would work, and she had too little time to enact it regardless. But now? It may just be possible.
She knows so little about this creature. She wields knowledge like a weapon, and finds herself disarmed. But those skulls that is wears as a visage may be a fortuitous clue as to its nature. And if so, then she may just have a remedy. It's a gamble, but it may be her only chance.
Over the treeline, antlers twist through the branches. That great, oily shape spills out of the woods and into the ditch, no more than twenty-five yards away. But Veliky stands tall -- as tall as she can, albeit little more than a morsel against the voracious beast. With hooves and tendrils, it begins to drag itself through the channel, toward her. But she only raises both hands, as if in prayer. It comes rushing toward her like a torrential stream, ungodly-faster than its anatomy should permit. But, steadying her heart and voice though it pains her, she speaks. "Halskrim decero..."
A radiant light burns beneath her skin, flowing from her heart to her fingertips and painting her veins a pure, scathing white. From her extended hands comes a pulse of holy energy that washes over the abomination just as it comes to her! The looming mass recoils and quivers unnervingly. She's never heard such a diversity of pain; it's so loud that she has to cover her ears, just so it doesn't pierce her drums.
But that's all she can do. So she simply looks down and waits... but nothing happens. The screaming has stopped. And when she looks up again -- it worked. The great monstrosity that scrambles and writhes, is now utterly frozen in place[4].
Veliky lets out a breath, and feels a pain leave her lungs. The creature's skulls are twisted open to reveal what must be a dozen tiny orifices in its jaw, lined with teeth of all sorts: mandibles, fangs, beaks and incisors. It's a sight that could make someone puke, but Veliky, for what it's worth, has seen too much to be perturbed by strange anatomy alone. For the moment, she's prevailed; and the relief is a far more prevalent emotion.
No... actually, she thinks it feels better to prevail against such a monster.
She spits onto the ground, utterly audacious; even as the creature's oily sweat still drips onto the ground.
"Worqu doe za wie. (Waste of time.)"
...Despite her jeering, she knows that she should leave quickly. The enchantment won't last long. But it'll last long enough -- long enough that, by the time she hears it cry again, it is little more than echo on the wind, a memory brought back by the breeze.
'What was that thing?' All she has to accompany herself is this question, and all she has to busy herself is the answer as she continues on. She's growing tired; her legs don't ache as much as a greater person's might -- a rare blessing of her stature -- but she can feel her eyelids weighing heavily. Just how long has she been walking?
But she can take it. That voice is louder, now. She's so close... And yet she still can't tell why it's so familiar to her.
But neverminding that, the question remains in her mind. Just what was that creature she saw?
'It was like some sort of animal... No, it like like a whole forest of them, all mashed into one. Like an animal of all animals; lur-vienda. And how did it just come out of the branches like that? It was like it was being born.'She wonders what this means for her, as she hops a short ledge. 'If this *is* some other world I've crossed into, then I guess that was just one of the natives. Not exactly the glass-winged fairies from the stories. I can't imagine that this is something from Cheche's world. But she did mention some weird creatures when we were talking about it... If this is what her world is like, then maybe it's better she stays with us.'
But she moves on from this idea quickly. It's best not to linger on such things when the answer is already so ill-defined. 'If this is an illusion, then it might've just been meant to scare me. Not a bad attempt. But it was so... specific? Almost feels like it was meant to tell me something -- or warn me. Either way, I can't say I get the message.'
...She's close. That nostalgic melody is now so loud that it must come from the other side of the tree in from top her. The time, it seems, is now. And suddenly she finds herself apprehensive. Is she prepared for whatever this might be? 'Follow the voice of The Mother,' Sylva had said. Is Veliky about to see The Mother?
Does she want to see The Mother? If that creature from before is simply ordinary in the Hauntwood, then what horrors might this Mother introduce her to? She can't know, and not knowing is among her greatest fears... But what choice does she have? Simply wander off, directionless, until she encounters another of those lur-vienda? No, she has to. All she can do is ready herself to deal with whatever lies on the other side. There's a clearing here, amidst the trees. In fact, she thinks she can just spy a ray of moonlight, gleaming down.
She takes a deep breath. 'You'll deal with it, whatever it is. You always do.'
She wonders if He's watching. If so, then she cannot linger for a moment longer. Exhaling and steeling herself, she steps out from behind the tree, into the clearing, to see...
Nothing. The clearing is empty.
She looks around, befuddled and frustrated beyond consolation. Where is that voice coming from? There's nobody here, nobody to sing. It seems so simply come from the air itself. Is it just some trick?
She slumps over, seating herself to lean on a tiny outcropping of dirt, feeling defeated. She feels resentment toward the Haunt itself; if it is a living thing, as Sylva claims, then Veliky despises it for leading her so far, through so much tribulation, for nothing! If being alive means that it has a neck, then she wants to throttle it.
...At least she can rest here. Since she can remain still, she can also remain invisible without impediment. Though that apparently won't protect her if one of those creatures appears...
But she's alone. For the time-being, that's all that matters. She may be accompanied by this unending song, but even that isn't unbearable. In fact, it's strangely soothing, in a way she hasn't known since...
...
Perhaps she shouldn't stay here too long. But she can rest for a moment, and decide where to go from there.
Time passes, as it always does. Six minutes, perhaps? A pittance of time, and an ounce of rest. At certain levels of exhaustion, even a bit of jutting earth can feel comfortable, even worthy of sleep. Resting her head on the cool, extruded dirt, she just breathes. She hasn't escaped the stench of the swamp, but she at least has a moment to breathe without worry of being heard. In a way, it reminds her of those rare occasions that she could return to her apartment and sleep in her own bed. That is, it was never altogether 'good:' there was always something to clean, as KEYP's processes are never perfect; she usually had to contend with the noises of Sol City, from barks to clattering metal; and the air always became stuffy when the window was closed, and leaving it open invited either cold or pollen (depending on the season). And it had often been broken-into, which is a reoccurrence that she's attempted with little success to solve. There's always something. But, amidst all that, it was still a place she could simply stop and rest for a while. It was good enough. Except...
Snap. The sound of a breaking branch demands her attention again. In an instant, she's ready to flee if she has to... But she doesn't. Turning to the source, she sees that's it's only the elephant, returning yet again.
"You again...?"
It's the same one: the same bite-marks, the same wounded gait, the same melancholy in its eyes. And again, it's come, limping toward her in spite of it all. She'd almost forgotten about it in the chaos of her encounter with the lur-vienda. It must've fled the moment it saw the beast. But it's found her again, as it always does. Whenever she thought she'd lost it, it always appeared again. Why is it so persistent?
"Just leave me alone," she breathes in exasperation. But still, it comes closer. It truly does loom over her, especially as she sits and rests. But she can't harbour any serious fear for it; it's simply too pathetic. "Why do you keep following me...? Didn't you see what happened?"
It doesn't stop. It continues approaching on those massive, clumsy feet. If it's making a sound, it can't be heard over the all-encompassing song that resounds between the trees, through the branches and over the mud.
She considers for a moment. "Or were you brought here by the song, too?"
Yes, perhaps it wasn't following her at all. Just going in the same direction. But then, why is it still coming toward her?
"Listen... It's a bad idea, following me. You're already hurt badly, and you'll only get hurt worse if you continue like this."
But it continues. Closer and closer it comes, and its silhouette grows. She can just about hear the little splashing of its feet in the mud, now. This is the closest it's been since she first saw it in the ditch.
It stumbles, but readjusts. Why is still going? The sight fills Veliky with disdain.
"Just leave!" she quietly, but forcefully demands, with venom in her tone and ice in her eyes. "All you're doing is getting in my way. You're hurt; you're weak. Just- Just go find somewhere, lay down and-"
It lowers itself to a knee beside her, and then to another; and then a third, and then a fourth, until it's lying. And as it does, it rests its weary head on the smooth fabric of Veliky's lap. Its ears flutter weakly, and its eyes gradually cover those sky-blue orbs before opening again.It's so warm. Even though its body is marked by a thousand wounds...Veliky is frozen. Eyes wide in shock, she doesn't know what to do or say. She had prepared herself for anything, yet why does this feeling give her so much pain? Why does it choke her so grievously? Why does she need to stifle a sob when she hears a piteous whistle escape the little creature's trunk? Tears are gathering at the corners of her eyes, and she doesn't know how to stop them.Its chest rises and falls in slow, steady rhythm, becoming slower over time. Its heartbeats, though powerful, become more and more gradual. It seems nearly ready to fall asleep. The poor thing, riddled with pierces, it doesn't even have its tusks yet...Drawing a sharp breath, she finally brings herself to look into its eyes -- those sky-blue eyes, full of so much pain. She wonders if it can hear the song, too; perhaps its serenity are what is lulling it to slumber, having its lids grow heavier with every note.She's heard this song before... and the calf has, too. In its eyes, she can see a reflection, like the sky in water. Staring so closely, she can just make out a shape that calls her to memories from so long ago."Enpe...? (Mom...?)"
The shape raises its head with that calm, patient smile that Veliky has seen so many times before. The song reaches its end just as she speaks, and the shape looks upon her with love. There are notes no longer, but that same voice whispers.
"Oh, Little Veliky..."
That silk-soft voice awakens so many emotions within her, that had been buried. But she pushes them down, closing her eyes...
But then the voice laughs in that little, knowing way. "Yes, I know you do not like that. But as I have told you, and as I have told you again; it is no bad thing, to be little. I know how they see you, and I know how it hurts."
...There's a pause, and a sound like rustling cloth. And as Veliky sits, eyes closed, she feels a faint kiss upon her forehead.
"But I see you as you are. Your father does, too. And, in time, I know you will find others that do, too." And she feels arms wrapping around her shoulders, cradling her in warmth. "It is no bad thing, to be afraid."
...
The warmth fades, in time, just as it did before. The words were so kind, and she believed them then... but not anymore. Her hope only hurt her; it is better to live without such things. It is better to accept the ordinary.
Veliky breathes deep, expelling the sorrow however slowly. And at last, she opens her eyes.
Only to see something else from memory. 1. Banner Lord II (1/2 remaining) 2. Invisibility 3. Angelic Light 4. Halt Undead
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