ORIGIN

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Wilder's magic rose up to consume her mind, for a moment.

Visions flickered past: the Dreamer, sitting on his throne, shackled.

The Dreamer, on his throne, shackled still, but in a slightly different position.

...More of the same, a dozen times, like the shutters of a camera rapidly flicking through new photographs.

Once, he was not there, the chains extending out toward a tunnel.

And then, images of the same, but with a chrysalis in his place. As the images snapped past she saw dust gathering, stone slowly eroding away.

This cave never changed, bar the march of time. The Dreamer was here. He had always been here, since this room's inception. He would always be here.

His pink-violet stare peered down at her, and there was a childlike gentleness to it. He could have risen, strode toward her--the length of these chains clearly allowed him to move some distance--but he remained where he was. A soft, grunting exhale greeted her. "Hello... little one," he rumbled. His voice, even, was quiet, as though he feared alarming her. "You have come... to visit me?" And as for her question-? He looked out over his little chamber, blinking slowly as if lost in thought. At length, untroubled, he looked back to Wilder. "I do not know. I do not remember," he answered.

@Wilder

Ancient memories, yet so similar, year after year, eon after eon. The Dreamer was so old and ever constant, as old as the stones of his throne. As she came out of the memory, she still wondered why he had been chained. Why he never tried to leave. Another look at them and it was obvious he could rise if he wanted, move around. But he remained in his throne, mind almost halfway somewhere else.

She gazed at him, as if searching that gaze for something, sadness, anger, fear, but found nothing but calm. "You must have been here for a very long time, then." She looked around the room - barren, silent, and lonesome, save for the Dreamer himself. Was he always alone? Did any of the Shapers enter this room, or did they remain in their barracks and in the cave of Centaurus itself?

"Do you get lonely here? I mean...you are not dreaming all the time, are you? And...what are you dreaming of? Sorry for all the questions, I am...fascinated. I've never seen a cave like this or someone like you before," her tail flicked apologetically.

A thought came to her, then - what if his chains were broken? What if someone melted or destroyed them, unleashed him from his place? And that question was wrapped up in a swaddle of arcana, and cast into the ether, where she reached and pulled and tugged for an answer, a vision of an answer, if she were to dare such a feat.

Heathen

____________________________________________

Survival is awarded to the worthy
[Image: i4Q4Hfy.gif]

It seemed like he wasn't the only one that was curious. Another had made their way to the throne, another cat, albeit a different breed. "Curiosity and cats, huh?" They chuckled from the entrance before stalking into the room. "Hello, Dreamer." They nodded up to the creature on the throne, not willing to potentially upset the one who, you know, REMADE A CAVE. "Have you found anything of note? I imagine that's what you've come back for?" They addressed the smaller cat again, almost... disinterested, if their tone was anything to go by. They would much rather rely on their own visions, but, they would give the other a chance.
The leopard took their time approaching one of the chains that snaked along the floor, listening intently for their answers before he nudged the cold metal. He did not know the other had cast the same spell not moments before, but even if he did, they likely would have still. Who knew if two minds would see the same fragment of the past, and who knew if one would lie about their sight?
And then, another thought; "Are the Shapers... your offspring, Dreamer?" They had no real evidence for the idea, but perhaps the question would provide more insight into their relationship even so.

"Spoken words!" And thoughts Compared to actions!

OOC Notes:

@Wilder (visibility for after GM post)

The Dreamer listened, looking... dreamy: half-absent and languid, as though his mind were somewhere else. He answered Wilder just as Heathen came in, so that his words would be heard by both.

His voice, not unlike the Merchant's, trailed off now and then; but his was not rasping and harsh but rather, soothing and sonorous. It was deep, so much so that even a soft word could be heard reverberating through their bones. "I have been here..." and here he looked around, as if for a hint, "long enough for the stone... to age. For dust... to come of nothing, and collect." He paused, slowly blinking. "Years... uncountable," he breathed. "Lonely-... mmm. I visit... the Shapers, at times. They are pleasant company... They speak, and play their games. It breaks the quiet," he added, and this last didn't necessarily sound like a good thing. Maybe it was why he didn't visit them more often, or maybe it was good and bad--like one of those things one wishes to have only in moderation.

"I Dream..." he went on, eyes slipping closed, "what he shows me... his travels through the dark. Worlds... uncounted. Places... so different from those... I know. Beautiful places. All of them... I Dream of swamps... and mountains... I Dream of forests... and deserts. I Dream of storms, and suns, and moons. I Dream of life I have never seen... And sometimes, I Dream of the world just above." He let out a soft, pleased sigh. He might have continued, or might not, but for Heathen's greeting, which earned a soft glance that seemed a return 'hello' despite a lack of words. "They are... family. But I did not... create them." There was fondness in his tone.

The magic sparking from both Gembounds found an echo, here, as though a similar power coursed throughout this room. It was only a spark, a sensation of resonance but it was there. Wilder saw flickers of possibilities, shades of future that might or might not come to pass.

One. Shattered chains. A broken stone, lying on the floor. A large shape atop the throne, albeit too obscured to see.

Two. Astraea standing staring at the empty Throne, silent and apprehensive, ruby eyes unblinking. A quiet voice, behind him: 'I didn't think it'd end like this.'

Three. The Shaper standing before the throne, lifting massive limbs to examine the shackles still upon his wrists, attached to the broken chains. He looked directly at Wilder.

"I think... I would not want them... stuck like that," the Shaper said, in the here-and-now, snapping Wilder from the vision fluidly. He was still watching her, still calm and peaceful. "They are never... comfortable. Though I am... used to them..."

Heathen saw flashes, as Wilder had, of time stretching into impossible distance. His, however, flicked backwards from the present, rather than forwards from the past: visions of the chrysalis-throne, first covered layers of dust and surrounded by worn stone. The stone repaired itself as visions shuddered backward through time; the stone faded. Even the chrysalis grew a little larger, a little shinier, as if time had even worn away some of its vast shell. Backward, backward, farther... The Dreamer atop his throne, shifting position a hundred times. The Dreamer in the tunnels, ducking beneath a stone, the chains following with him. And then the Blacksmith in a glowing workshop, hammer clanging on this metal, forging the links that held him.

@Wilder @Heathen

Wilder glanced at the new arrival, tail lifting briefly as a greeting. "I saw far back, but he's always been here. Since this cave existed, I think. He doesn't remember why he's shackled," she said in a hushed tone before turning back to the Dreamer.

"He? Are you connected to someone?" She wondered if it was the Creator or someone on the outside. Tamulus? No, she didn't think it was him. As far as she knew, he was stuck on Let. Why would he be travelling alien, unknown worlds?

She suddenly stood a little taller. "You dream of Let? I've...been there. It's beautiful - the mountains of the Vaa stretch as far as you can see, almost beyond! But apparently some of it is dying. Like a wasteland." Her head tilted. "Do you dream all the time or just...some of the time?"

She noted that the other cat was poking at the chains as well and quickly felt for magic in them. Perhaps they had something to do with how this cave worked. However, her magic rebounded and all she ended up getting was a feedback loop that she quickly cut off before it starting giving her a migraine. She looked between them and the Dreamer, still unsure how to feel about them. "So...if you could choose, would you choose to wear them or be free?"

@Heathen

Tema had gotten into the cave a little late, given her conversation, but had thankfully made it to the rear of the cave just in time to see the Dreamer awakened through the grate in the cave floor. From there, everything went rather quickly. She was shuffled into the building known as the Barracks by a collection of hybrids, called the Shapers, and told to hunker down while the cave... What?
It was power like she had never seen before, an entire cave coming to life from nothing. It was flat, cold and empty until they began to move, creating cliffs and ravines and plants unlike those she had ever seen before. This! This is what the Void dreamed of. Something ever-shifting, ever-changing. She felt the Oilstone at the base of the Breach sing as the cave was remade, reborn, reshaped like a mutating chrysalis. Yes, she had helped to bring this place to life once more! She would create more soldiers for the cause, more oilstone gembounds to reform the caves just like this one had.
Ah, but what now? As soon as the cave had finished shifting, or rather as soon as the Shapers had finished shaping it, gembounds began to spread apart. none of them really caught her eye, given that she'd already talked more than she had in many cycles.
So she left the Shapers to rebuild the barracks, and she turned her nose to the plants and lessers that now littered the caves. The lessers she came across all seemed to be bug-like, though she wouldn't straight-up call some of them bugs. Perhaps one of them would be worthy of stone-hunting but for now, it was the brightly-coloured obviously poisonous (or mimicking poisonous?) plants that caught her eye. Maybe it was time to start a new garden.

"speaking" and corruption

Tema would find quite a few potential subjects that fit her rather sinister criteria.

The nearest was a small bush with spindly stems, ending in bright pink, star-shaped flowers. The petals were not soft, but rather, rigid and pointy, with sharp points extending from the end of each. The stems and thorns along those stems were likewise pink, as were the few hard-as-glass leaves: a darker magenta, though less saturated.

The flowers smelled strangely spicy. Their effects, though Tema would need time to test this, would simply be to cause mild dehydration if ingested, over time.

@Tema

Heathen

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Survival is awarded to the worthy
[Image: i4Q4Hfy.gif]

Heathen was in over his head. Let, Vaa, a wasteland, the world... above? It was more than he had heard about, let alone seen, and it was all as alien as Centaurus itself. The creature that formed the chains was one he would have to visit, have to question, once he could find them. He'd heard rumors of a Blacksmith, and he could only hope the one in his vision was the very same, and not one who had died long ago. If the Dreamer was still around, they had to be too, right?

Heathen nodded at the whispered words, remaining silent for a while to listen to the Dreamer's answers. The other asked what he wondered already, about who this 'he' was. Was it the Merchant? Was that why they wanted to awaken the Dreamer so badly? What was their relationship? He was even more confused that the Shapers were of no relation to the Dreamer. Why was he their master, then? Where had they come from?

Heathen was incredibly pleased with their gift, and very eager to use it. All this puzzling was starting to feel like a big waste of time, especially when they could be preparing to fight those eyehooks or going directly to the source of the dreamer's imprisonment. Still, he sat politely at the feet of the Dreamer, trying to feign patience. He would listen a while longer, and then he would find some lessers to test his new trinket on.

"Spoken words!" And thoughts Compared to actions!

OOC Notes:

@Wilder

It was beautiful. Thorny and with petals sharp as broken glass, the colour screamed poison. She had no way of knowing, yet, but sure enough she carefully sliced a cutting off with her claw and allowed it to purchase on her skin. It was comfortable for now, but she from previous experience that it would hurt once it began to root. She'd have to replant it soon, but for now... Another. She had plenty of room for a wide variety of plants, after all, but she would not be greedy. Trying to test these plants would prove a whole other problem, and she had so much else to do.
Like lesser hunt. That would have to be soon, and a visit to the altar of course! And then she'd actually have to make a home... The next few cycles were going to be busy, and as interested as she was in this new place, she would have to wait before exploring it much further. Maybe when the barracks was done, and the Shapers had more time to talk? She'd very much like to know about the oilstone breach. Was there an altar, here? She hoped so. Perhaps they'd allow her to build one? Hmmm...
Ah yes, plants. Plants first.

"speaking" and corruption

Fleas returned, after an uneventful hour within the Crucible. It was nerve wracking, crawling desperately on the ground to find the stones she'd left behind. Most she put in the crevice within Tunnel P she kept Thelmar's stone in, unsure what to do with them, but she kept a few with her--those that she'd felt strong vibes from. Ultimately, she'd brought back a yellow Cerussite, an Adamite chunk, Thelmar's Creedite , and a Jacinth hoof.

Alright, the Jacinth hadn't felt that strong, and it looked annoying to get back, but it got her interest. It was bigger than the others. Bigger things survived better, surely. She'd needed to carry them back, and ultimately managed to gnaw a few branches into a vageuly sled-like shape. She had needed to use her thumbs for that. Unfortunately. But, well, at least they had a use other than looking really weird.

She spent a long while deliberating at the maw of Centaurus. The group had been gone when she arrived, leaving only the barest hints of tracks leading into the maw. It was ominous. That was putting it lightly. It was like the maw of some great beast. Like a sand worm. But after thinking on it for a while, something in here snapped. She'd had enough of this stress over whether or not she'd die. This nervousness. She'd been partially eaten by The Piano, terrifed of a giant jaguar, and chased by vultures in the same day. In all honesty, she'd rather it just kill her right away rather than sitting terrified over whether it would or wouldnt. She was a jackal with things to do.

Mind made up, and with a long suffering sigh, she loped into the tunnel. Her surroundings were strange, that was for sure. Fleas was't sure what she'd been expecting, waltzing into a tunnel shaped like a mouth, but it hadn't been a jagged, cliffy swamp. Fleas didn't even know how she knew the word swamp; its not like she'd ever been in one. Small pillbug like creatures crawled along beneath her using a suite of small, crab-like legs where she supposed a mouth would go.

She only gave them a brief glance, more focused on using her nose to track the group down. It wasn't that hard. Well. It was. The swamp may have been smelly and cloying in its own right. But once you got a little away from the water and got a good sniff, the humidity kept the scent particles of a mass of gembound stuck in the air. Her stones got a little wet during the travel, but that was to be expected. Upon reaching them, she puffed out a breath of air, stretching out. She didn't know who that really tall dog-lookin guy was (and she wasn't sharp enough to put two and two together) but no one was dead, so that was none of her business just yet.

"Finally. That sucked to carry back. Alrighty Merchant, heres the stones. Got the rest of em somewhere else; didn't know how many y'could help me bring back. Say, I know you can't--y'won't revive em yourself, but could you make sure they get placed somewhere...I dunno, safe? I'm not really a gembound raiser I don't think. Just didn't want em dead." Fleas scratched behind her ear, avoiding eye contact. Almost looking embarassed. This had been her way of trying to get back at the Merchant for all using those stones, after all. She didn't like that she had to be involved.

"When I speak"
When I think

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Game Master Dark

Wilder

Heathen

Game Master Dark

Wilder

Tema

Game Master Dark

Heathen

Tema

Fleas