? BOAR'S HEAD ?? - Printable Version

Tunnel I: a junction between many rooms; shimmering Polaris to the north, vibrant green Eridanus to the east, and the starlit vault of Orion to the south. It was a well-traveled path, though few lingered here anymore—not even to gaze at the carvings midway between the first and third room of those list. There was, it seemed, few points of interest to keep one's attention here—

Wait—

What was that... ?

The whisper of a rat's claws along stone? A passing conversation not to be eavesdropped on? Some errant wind meandering from Ursa? The indistinct roar of a river, muffled like one's stream of consciousness in a state of shock?

Any sort of creature passing through would hear it, pervasive as the apparent sound was. It was indiscernible, and perhaps incomprehensible, like an unknowable blend of television static and a rioting chorus howling in a coliseum.

ΨϙVΆRSί ϳωAιΓ

Yet, it was so, so quiet, and so faint—merely echoing in the far recesses of one's mind as they made their way down the tunnel's length.

ΑE ϩϰVφ ϮOT MEϘ νχμ

It grew in intensity as one drew nearer to Polaris, if one were so inclined to search for its source...

He followed his path often when he wandered far from the altar- which was more often, now-a-days, as he'd preferred to set up some sort of camp for himself away from the infernal thing. He'd been to it recently, at least- in truth, he'd just visited it, and had been returning to the core to think on things, and perhaps to gather some materials for a small project.

Besides, he was hungry, and he was tired of hunting in Canis and Orion, frankly.

Briefly shaking his head free of what he thought was his own mind, Purity continued on with his head and tail held high, padding along the stairs that made up the hallway. It was strange, how often he'd grown to dismiss strange whispers and notions, steeling himself and wholly ripping away any sense of curiosity about himself long ago.

His ear flicked with annoyance at the fact that the noise still tugged at his cortex. No- that was distinctly away from himself, or, at least, frequent enough to not dismiss. His tongue swiped out anxiously as he ducked his head, pupils drawing thin as he continued on. It was getting stronger (or, was it?) as he went this way, and his fur prickled at that. Shouldn't he be going away from the source? Something had been pulling him this way, though, and sharp claws anxiously stretched out while he walked.

Purity's eyelids lowered into a squint as he raised his head again, teeth bared for a brief moment in a soft hiss. "Is someone there?" His voice was a harsh whisper, spat out behind clenched teeth. Usually, if it were the urges at the back of his mind, they'd only grow in response- which, he wholly expected this noise to do. It had to be something of his imagination. And yet, it reminded him so starkly of the altar, enough to draw him closer and closer as he strained to pinpoint just where it was coming from.

Being constantly surrounded by indecipherable whispers, Aethereal did not notice (nor would she have given a care about) the newest addition to their chorus. Illusions, all of it, the curse of the chaos in her black blood. Attempting to listen would probably drive her mad (but aren't you mad already? AREN'T YOU?), and so she had learned to pay them no heed.

No, it was just another trip between rooms for her—to Orion, in fact, where she planned to visit Pride. From the direction of Polaris. Spot (or hear, rather) the difference.

What was unusual was the small cluster of Gembound that had formed here. Tunnels didn't seem a very convenient meeting-place, and Aethereal remembered, uneasily, her battle with Tahi-shei and his allies. What purpose could a gathering of strangers have here?

(YOU COULD RID YOURSELF OF THE THREAT AND ROADBLOCK EASILY. THEY ARE SHORT. THEY ARE ANTS TO YOU. CRUSH THEM BENEATH YOUR FEET! LASH YOUR MAGIC LIKE A—)

"What's going on here?" Aethereal asked briskly, forcing her voice to remain even. Around her, the susurrus of her magic rose and fell like breaths.

Purity turned back at the response, one paw held up as he searched behind himself. 'Are they making this noise?' The voice wasn't one Purity expected, however, not for this situation. Was this a trick? But, perhaps he'd consider any voice a trick. Maybe they were all passing the same way, and they just now heard each other now that he called out.

Purity let out a huff, his lips pulling back as he shook his head. "It seems it's more than just us two," Purity's voice came through with a low timbre, head level as he regarded both Diot and Mephisto. "Tell me, you two- you hear that noise, too?" He nodded his head to the question, encouraging the both of them for an answer.

An ear swiveled as Aethereal joined them. One quick glance brought information that sent a shiver down Purity's spine, and he curled back his lips again as he stared at her wound-like neck. 'A disgusting dragon-creature,' he appended to her, though she did seem to have a fair number of extra legs with that. He gave her another once-over, sneering in a bit of digust before attempting to reign back his facial expressions.

He shook his head. Another lion came up, and Purity turned his head to nod. "Alright, Melinoe," was his response, and soon he was trotting back down the path. 'What's going on' was answered, so he didn't have to pay attention to the infernal creation without a head.

"I've heard something like this before. It feels... Linked, perhaps, to the altar within the tunnel to Canis." An ear turned back as he looked over the walls briefly, his eyes lingering on a carving. Better not mention that it sounded like a muted version of his typically entropic thoughts- he'll keep that to himself, for now. "Like a--" He hesitated, straining as he stopped and looked about. "A whisper."

Aethereal positively flinched at the mention of voices and whispers. Now that it had been pointed out, it would not leave her awareness. That constant, tantalizing static! "Fucking," Aethereal cursed quietly, the only swear word she knew. (Thanks, Tahi-shei.)

To Melinoe—and by extension the others—she said, quite loudly: "Do not listen to it!" Could she convince them? Were they too curious for their own good? Dontacael and Creator above, the last thing the world needed was more innocents dragged into the mess of Chaos. "It will do no good for you! It lies," she spat, thinking of the taps and squeezes of a nonexistent entity, and the voices she heard in her dreams. "It is not kind! Do you know what it will do to you? Do you know what it did to me?"

Oozing black Oil from her vents, not a peaceful sleep since she had been born, hallucinations of death and destruction, overwhelming pain and eons of loneliness, even as the Spire urged her to destroy--

Her magic swept out, and she tried to show Melinoe in the way she was used to: from mind to mind. Not the full extent of it, she would not press that pain upon a stranger. But she gave him glimpses, an abridged version of the suffering Chaos brought. They had to know.

The clamoring susurrus edged louder and louder, surging into intent clarity with every step Purity took toward the source.

⑃Hᘬ ᇤLEᦒH IS WṣAఘ

It blared with all the intensity of a presence grasping, clawing, seeking a handhold. Writhing, clinging, pulling, urging them closer, closer, closer—toward the source.

TEшᓒ IT FϧOM Tܓˆ ᙜᡀᢵE

Still, it was a mere echo of what Aethereal would show to Melinoe.

A jagged crevice lay in the wall ahead, and within—if they continued to seek, to listen to the whispering roar making itself so very known—there was some sort of... object. Not particularly large, vaguely dark, rooted to the gnarled stone beneath it. Its shape should be clear beneath the light of the orb above it, and yet it refused to be comprehended from still so far away.

ÏလNÒT ႏᑜA➵ሄ ℓE AទዽNᓐ.

Wailing desperation rang from it, ramping higher, higher, louder, LOUDER.

Yet—something whispered beneath, like the gentle lapping of a creek over tumbled tones. A repetitive rhythm beating out a well-rehearsed rhythm.

I HAVⓍ ຮfE᠆ ETགRNAL
aRንEފTↁD, ATTESཋ
I Hᣣ࿚E ❶EA⏁D ớϕⓊ ⒄⛥ᛮᇋ
ANۍ K⁔OW ∀OᲡ
᧳UT ൧E ┩₺⊂E ୡOT MET
Y⍄T

Listen closer, beneath all the desperation, the ear-shattering wail of words one's mind violently rejected parsing; peer closer into the den; and, one might find a even lick of understanding.