Prepare for the #LodanRespawn2024 Existing characters may choose to be displace from/have memories of different timelines, thereby allowing returning members the option to retcon their whole character. These changes are the result of the "Unnatural Fog" plot device that is running between now and the Respawn. The plot is simple: no matter where your character is, that place is shrouded in a thick fog that suspends time, but not thoughts or memories, so even if they're repeating the same day over and over again, they continue to remember, so each time feels like a new day. For those retconning OCs; this is where new versions of themselves have the opportunity to replace the old versions. Official lore and tree updates will be announced asap
Inside cellar, beast waited, howled, anger and pain bubbled, like blood, from tail. Drenching ground with liquid. Heard, could sense, prey. Entered home. Invaded, like other. Hissed, challenged. Come hither. Become prey, become food. Succumb to poison, to paralysis, to me.
The mist itself was thick, thick enough that any who cross through it would be unable to see too far in front of them, but the beast that lay was not hard to miss. It’s form was dark in the mist, walking, skulking about. Despite it’s thin frame, its gait was loud— it’s talons scraping the floor as it stepped, hissing, threatening all who came near as it nursed its lost tail. Yet, it remained distant, waiting, attempting to see if the mist would affect its prey before it acted again.
And somewhere, Wern lay. He had been dragged, but all he could remember, no, all he could see was Abigail, lying next to him. Laughing. He tried to ask her why she had come back, if she actually did love him, but she only laughed, getting up to dance, her bun, still so neatly in place. She looked beautiful, just as he remembered her. But the pain. It remained in his heart, only growing worse as time passed, blending two worlds as he looked to Amon, fixing Nikolai only to instead see Abigail’s husband, cleaning a horse’s shoe, and for her to be dancing, always dancing, yet she called out for him— for Wern. Maybe she had chosen him after all, and he smiled, closing his eyes.
Post by Viktor Croswell on Jan 3, 2016 2:44:53 GMT
NK-5 did not seem to refuse service but the droning sound of static still emanated from his voice box as he lay limp on the ground. Despite that the core rested in his chest all the memory and database containing devices rested in the compartments of his head. Upon closer inspection, or if Amon studied the blue prints in depth he would know to find them there and that a small empty space resided for a smaller but secondary core to rest in case the body should become inoperable.
As Viktor delved deeper into the cellar the mist and darkness gave way to a different image. The steps he was descending belonged to his own family home and light trickled in from the window of the living room where a table covered in various contraptions rested. Papers and blueprints lay scattered here and there and as Viktor reached the final step he rounded a corner to find his mother humming while she made dinner. Everything felt surreal as he stepped into the kitchen only to find that another surprise awaited him. At the kitchen table sat his dad reading his newspaper while sipping at his coffee. The burly man paused to look up and grinned as he greeted his son. "Ah, there's my boy. Long night again, aye? Sit down an' join us for a meal. Yer mum's almost done." The red head paused in the doorway with his mouth hanging open partially. No, his dad had died almost a year ago... this home had burnt down almost a year ago. This wasn't right--but as the mechanic watched his dad return to reading his paper and his mother continuing to hum he couldn't help but want to be with them.
"Alright," he whispered with a slight nod as he stepped forward to sit with them.
"Give...me...one...sec...got it!" Amon exclaimed as he finished removing Nikolai's head and started up its backup core. "Get him back to the shop and hooked up to a reserve power core, stat," he ordered, handing the head to Abe. "Abby, you brought what I asked?"
"Affermative," Abby replied, holding up a seal-able flask as Abe retrieved Nikolai's head.
"Grab a sample of the mist, and as soon as you've dropped of Nikolai's head, get that sample to Medivha and get her to come here as soon as she can. Once that's done, come back and retrieve the rest of Nikolai," Amon ordered.
"Understood," replied the Twins. Abby quickly darted closer inside, filling the flask with as much of the mist as she could before quickly capping it and running off again with Abe, their precious cargo in tow.
Amon sighed as he stood up, giving Wern a quick look. The man did not look well at all...he was still probably halu-
He paused.
"SONOFA-" he swore, retrieving his last clockwork bird out of his bag, and after tapping it a few times, ordered it to deliver a kind message to Viktor:
"THE MIST IS A HALLUCINOGEN!!! WAKE UP AND GET OUT!!!"
"I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible! And when I leave, you will finally understand why storms are named after people!" - Taryn, Nerf This
Beast approached, man, speaking. Mind, lost to the mist. Vulnerable. Beast waited, then stepped forward. Raised claw, bared teeth, hissing. Prey, lost to mist. Vulnerable. Easy target. Stepped forward, until close enough to stare into lost eyes, to bear teeth, ready to rip into flesh as it sent claw down upon figure, upon prey, upon victim. Man, not strong. Had succumbed. Now, it was his.
There were voices—not Abigail’s. Speaking, clicking. Calling out in the darkness, but it wasn’t darkness anymore was it? No. It was candlelight, and it flickered from the corner, causing the room to quiver, to breath. Wern recognized that glow, that feeling of warmth. This was his old cottage. The walls, small and wooden, comforting as they enclosed the little shack. And Abigail, she still danced, still twirled, even more beautiful in candlelight. But her hair, it came loose as she spun, her clothes draping and cracking, peeling away like snakeskin from her body. Wern watched, captivated, no—horrified as the woman sauntered toward him, movements no longer graceful, but ragged. Tossing her body, back and forth, convulsing, hitting into objects, beast like, her eyes, hidden from him.
“Abigail?” He spoke, and she twisted her head. Let out a hum that tried to promise safety, but it sounded broken, stuck on one note, repeating it over and over, getting higher and higher, until it was just a screech, over and over, one single note. Then, she smiled— pursed her lips, stumbled forward, smelling like the forest, of the dark, right after a downpour, and it terrified Wern.
He repeated again. “Abigail?” But it was cut short as she moved closer, leaning forward as if to kiss, but— she dug her teeth into his shoulder, tearing, scratching at flesh, grabbing him by the hair and banging his head against the wall, screaming, over and over. “Not the victim, not the victim, not the victim!” And Wern, too, screamed, crying as he huddled into a ball, trying to block the other’s attacks, the other’s advances, but nothing worked. Not even as he screamed back, “I’m sorry, please forgive me,” over and over, but she just dug and dug, carving deeper, ripping into him, breaking him. Devouring him. “I’m sorry,” Wern cried from his sleep, twitching, turning, until at last, he seized.
What is important to me is the experience of making. I leave all my work outside and often return to watch it decay.- Andy Goldsworthy
Post by Viktor Croswell on Jan 9, 2016 3:32:42 GMT
Captivated by the surreal dream of his father still alive and his mother humming happily nearby, Viktor was all too happy to sit with his parents while tears stung at his eyes. His father was alive. "So, how did work go, huh? You know just cause you got your own place don't mean you gotta stop visiting your old folks again," teased the large, burly man.
"Stop it, Luke," came his mother's voice. "Let our boy enjoy his breakfast in peace."
"I am just giving him a hard time, lovey."
The bird reached him too late. As the warning poured into Viktor's ears he was reaching for fruit across the table and blinked. His father was dead. This house had burned to the ground. Just as he went to retract his hand pain bit down into his shoulder as his father reached out and struck him with a knife. What was going on? His father would never do that! Never! Horrified, he lashed out at his father forgetting that when he entered the fog he still held NK-5's sword.
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