ORIGIN

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ECHOES

the whispered words

The echoes moved onward. Wispy shapes, half-glimpsed visions of those who had come before--and perished.

This room ahead--it was unknown to the Gembounds. Untouched for centuries, or more. It was cool and restful, near-silent, and eerie in its alien nature: lit by clustered shards of glowing crystal, its ceiling a void out of sight above.

There were many places in this cave to see but those following the spirits would be led through its still darkness to a broad, dark place. A pit, though not dangerous; it was as though all the shadows of this cave had drawn here, had settled, their weight pressing down through the stone until they pooled in one place. The pit was a font of the whispering energy: the echoes gathering and coalescing here, visible as brief glimpses in the darkness down below.

The Gembounds could follow, if they wished. The pit's sides were not steep, not deadly. But to descend would be to stand in the darkness, among the echoes of the dead. To hear their wisdom, or snatches of their final words, or to see glimpses of their lives play out in unknowing emptiness.

Though the echoes' eyes would never see again, they lingered here; and though they could never again speak to the living, their voices could still be heard.

*

Gembound may freely join this Event thread. There is no danger; anyone joining in is free to see brief echoes of long-dead (or not so long-dead) Gembound, and hear brief, often nonsensical snatches of words they may once have spoken. They are more likely to see and hear those they knew in life, or those they are somehow linked or related to. (Please note that this should not be used to uncover specific moments in characters' lives. These Echoes are random glimpses of the past; nothing more.)

Those choosing to descend into the Pit--either in this post, or in the future during the final week of October and first week of November--may GM tag for a post and a pilgrimage achievement.

These echoes will remain after this event has ended, but they will be more rare. At this time of year each year, they will become more prevalent once again.

Characters who enter the pit in this thread will receive an additional reward at thread's end.

@Gaheris (Thyme, Thalassa) @Pride (Rex, Bez, Sent) @Karambit (Richter) @Tourmaline @Wilder

Following through the tunnel and emerging into a new cave had Wilder freezing in her tracks. Eyes widened as she took in the dim light of Andromeda, excitement suddenly lacing through her body. This! This was another new cave! And she’d been part of the discovery! She glanced back at the others that followed, excitement making her tail twitch. She marveled at the strangeness of the cave, the many structures and glowing crystals, that giant formation that looked like fire…oh, oh this was wonderful! Her paws itched to race off and explore what the cave had to offer when suddenly she heard a voice. A familiar voice that turned her blood cold.

”I shall…create my world.”
Her head turned just in time to see another of the ghosts, a cat-like shape with no defining features, with little specks of light through its black formless body, eyes glowing like stars. She watched in horror as it drifted past, remembering the last day she’d seen it. The fear and terror she’d felt, the guilt, the agony of knowing that she had created a monster.

And…the day she’d done it. Counted among some of the worst days of her life. Too cowardly she had been to clean up her own mess. Too cowardly to take a life because that life was part of her. When she’d approached the insectoid leviathan of Eridanus and had offered her Regalia. If she killed it, then she could take the stone as her prize.

And Wilder had never seen or heard from Regalia again. Only the destruction it’d wrought as its final act.

She gulped and took a step back, suddenly not willing to go any farther. But then she felt Vaati’s fur brushing against her. The rat had stepped up next to her, his presence a warm, grounding comfort and Wilder released the breath she’d been holding. Even if it was an echo of her first-child, it was long-gone now. Nothing more than an echo.

A deep shaky breath and she was moving forward again, trotting towards the place where the ghosts were gathering. A pit of darkness, but not of evil, Wilder could feel that already. She glanced at Vaati and willed a wisp to dance to life in front of her, as if it could breach the darkness. And after a moment more of hesitation, she stepped forward into the pit.

Fracture my spine

Absolutely incapable of conventional sight, whatever beauty could be found in the strangeness of this cave was wasted on the likes of Karambit; odds are, even if eyes had not been heat-sensing buttons, that still would have been the case due to the monster's rather unusual perspective on the subject. After all, what appreciation could be given to glowing crystals and plants from one so enraptured by decomposition and filth? Zero, of course, when none of these bled or squelched when sickle claws sliced at them.

The endeavor to locate its suddenly mobile sibling amongst the steady flow of voices grew no closer to success, this outcome likely unsurprising to any with a better grasp on the situation than it. Besides the obvious problem of Creo simply not being corporeally present, the varying temperatures of every rock formation in the area created obstacles hard to maneuver around for a creature with its disadvantages and significant bulk. Buzzing accompanied each collision with crystals cold enough to blend into the environment. Stationary spikes radiating warmth were avoided no easier, often right beside their nearly invisible counterparts and ready to be smacked into once it turned to advance a new way.

"Bad hard thing," it whined, more bothered by repeated inconvenience than the accumulation of bruises all over its flesh. "Where arrre you Crrrrrr—criiieeeeeee!"

Despite the lack of dangerously steep sides, the abrupt loss of ground beneath a probing insect leg took Karambit entirely off guard. High-pitched shrieks cut off, and whirring wings replaced them, fervent in the attempt to keep the monster from toppling into the unseen pit face-first. The fall was not prevented, remaining legs buckling before balance could be reestablished. However, instead of a crash, the gray mass of meat merely slid on its belly into the darkness. Whispers crowded it from all directions.

And swear that you're mine

The darkness pressed in on all sides throughout the tunnel, only for it to be banished by the gleaming crystals awaiting in the room on the other side. Wide eyes took in the labyrinth of softly glowing shards. They beckoned Tourmaline onward, just like the mysterious whispers haunting the room.

I don't know what I was expecting. But it wasn't this.

As much as she wants to wander the halls, exploring strange formations, another echo laughs next to her, exultantly shouting as it chases something down, down, down...

She couldn't see the bottom of the pit, but she could see the echoes congregating, singing a song of the ups and downs of life. Tourmaline took a deep breath, before beginning to navigate her way into the darkness below.

Erasmus

Erasmus had never left Cetus before. But one of their children, little Bezaliel, was missing. And though Erasmus may have intended the purple amethyst children as siblings to a still unhatched child originally, that did not diminish the responsibility Erasmus had to these little lives.

Nor did it diminish the vampire’s love for the two hatched children. They were family, something that Erasmus had learned from Alek was so very important. Even more than being Erasmus’s family, the children were all Alek’s family, and Alek mattered more to Erasmus than Erasmus mattered to Erasmus.

Erasmus had picked up the trail for Bezaliel with minimal difficulty. Earlier on, they had memorized the scent of their children in case of emergencies. Erasmus’s eyes since they had left Cetus had quickly been hidden behind long pale gold hair. They could still see some, but the light was less overly intense to them, as it had overwhelmed them when they had left the mist.

All their senses were overwhelmed, truth be told. But they still tracked Bezaliel with a singleminded focus. They could not afford to be distracted overwhelmed, not for anything. All that mattered was finding Bezaliel.

They had to be close now. The scent was stronger than ever. But this cave they had found, it was unlike any cave that Alek had ever described to them. It was also unpleasantly bright to even their hiding green gaze.

For a moment, they thought they saw a faded image of a dragon, and thought it Alek. But Alek was left behind to watch over Doru. It was familiar, though when they turned to look it was gone. The colors had been wrong, they thought.

Perhaps more of Alek’s family was around. Anticipation and anxiety flooded their mind, but they shook it off as best they could. They tried to scent the air but they had lost it after tracking it so far. They let out a distressed croon, that of a parent trying to coax a missing child out of hiding.

But maybe the dragon they thought they saw had found Bezaliel, they thought suddenly. So they descended, hoping to find their missing child.

As I breathe into our silence
There's a voice that comforts me
It's a voice of understanding
It's the voice of empathy

For all the potential energy humming within his bones at the prospect of discovery, waiting to be unleashed in a surge of enthusiasm, haste was virtually nonexistent as Richter followed after the echoes of Gembounds' pasts. Saved from groping his way through darkness by the cave's unusual features, it became easier for him to grow distracted by whatever sights he passed. More than once, an aspect of some unknown flora drew his eyes away from the whispering shadows he trailed. Often in the midst of prodding at a glowing stem or petal, a wisp whisking round a crystal pillar in the corner of his vision would then remind him of his main adventure. In every such instance, peeling away from his current object of interest proved a struggle, but another spirit drifting by tended to force him back on track. He abandoned his study each time with a sigh, an apologetic and yearning glance cast back as he was unfortunately herded along.

Later, was the promise he gave himself, one dearly hoping to be fulfilled. When this first mystery was cleared up, he'd double back and marvel again at all else which demanded his attention.

A paw now resting upon the smooth face of a warmth-radiating crystal, Richter observed as others clambered into the shifting throng of darkness that was the Pit—such an odd place to congregate, no visible reason apparent for why those they pursued were drawn to here. The voices had amassed into a great discordant chorus, their song the lives of many reoccurring at once. To what end, he supposed he'd only reach that understanding by wandering amongst them; this conclusion he promptly followed through on, hopping down to whatever fate might await him.

Bezaliel found himself at the edge of the black pit, gazing down with fascination. Almost at once he began to make his way down, oblivious to the arrival of other family. Once again he tried to call upon his magic, to summon up a light; but other than that, his rapt and almost hungry ambition drove him. There might be stuff here, his instinct told him, a draconic greed flaring like sparks through his brain. And he wanted stuff. Especially if it was cool stuff!

Whispers and flickers swept past him as he made his way down, a stumble here and there doing little to stop him from his goal. A moment later he was steeped in darkness, surrounded by that pool of black, the chill and the misty air a strange mixture of unsettling and soothing all at once.

"Hello-?" he tried, at last, but his voice came out a whisper of his own.

Pride descended, too, the clicks of his hooves fading into that strangely muffled space. His pale coat was soon swallowed by the dark, silvered eyes flicking here and there with wary yet gentle interest.

Careful, he cast his magic out, a tentative taste of that spark that lingered in the air. What--or who--are you..? he thought, antlered head tipping to one side.

He then went still, steeped in it, shrouded in the shadows of the Pit. He opened his senses and his magic to the place, and wondered what there might be to learn, here. What it might be telling them, these echoes of ages past.

red deer img credit - dan seagrave

The last of the Sentinel's shimmering blue wings faded as his feet touched down at the very bottom of the Pit. He made no effort to resummon them, instead going quite still, here, stiffly upright and silent. He seemed at once to become lost in the whispers and images of this place.

In truth, he was struggling, at first, to sort Chaos from reality--to parse hallucination, so common to him, from the true Echoes that were haunting here. Too often he saw visions, heard voices, saw flashes of violence or images of silent void. This was very like that, and it was difficult to tell what might be the backlash of his magic (or very nature of his element) and what might be seen and heard by all, and not just him.

It helped, in some sense, to realize that as his magic seeped into the rock just underfoot, the Echoes faded from that place. It stabilized him, and at once he understood that the Echoes were some other magic. Some natural thing, perhaps--not something inflicted by Chaos. Pensive, claws shifting around the halberd's haft as his void-imbued eyes searched what might to others be blinding darkness, he tried to call upon that magic--but nothing came.

"Death, in life--or chaos without Chaos," he breathed, seeming to think aloud.

Rex plodded down into the Pit, head swinging this way and that, yellow eyes still wide with awe. Each step was delicately placed, a careful tread--and by the time he'd hit the bottom, even his massive form was swallowed by the shadows.

But... it didn't feel dangerous. "It's almost like... restful," he murmured aloud--and the place seemed to demand a hush, the way a library would. Respect--that was it.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw an image--brief--of a slender black dog seeming to slip and stumble, alarm in her eyes. Rex started forward, as if to help her, a ghostly whisper of a yip reaching him--and then she was gone, black coat eclipsed by shadows, and he was left standing uncertainly in the darkness.

art by Gortys, edited by me!

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Game Master Dark

Wilder

Karambit

Tourmaline

Erasmus

Richter

Bezaliel

Pride

The Sentinel

Rex