bravenewworld | Descent into Darkness

Descent into Darkness

As the characters arrive, they will find what appears to be a rather deep cavern. Upon entering, the caverns are quite narrow, with twists and turns everywhere and different tunnels that all seem to be interconnected. As characters travel deeper within the caverns, reality around them will start to warp, they will start to see and hear things that aren’t necessarily there - images of old enemies, past failures, voices of condemnation, visions that strike at the soul and core of the characters. Once this begins, it will only increase in power and volume, demanding it be confronted, lest they be trapped within these caves forever.

[OOC: This event will run for a week. All characters who enter the caves will be subject to some of their deepest fears, darkest demons, and most abject failures. To overcome them, characters must help each other out, finding their purpose through strength of character and resolve to move forward. In general, these visions should require characters to come to grips with themselves. Illusory images and voices can and will appear and can take any number of forms, depending on what is most appropriate to a character. Additionally, characters may thread with each other and are encouraged to help each other out to overcome these personal demons. For those who wish to take part, they are able and encouraged to narrate their own personal demons, which will be on display for everyone who enters their thread. IC threads may be made in this post.]

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"Rincewind?!"

Waver rushed over to his friend, not entirely paying attention to the changes in the scenery due to his concern for his friend. Given his own encounter earlier, and the encounters of other people he had run into thus far, it wasn't hard to imagine exactly what Rincewind was running from.

At least the Luggage was here, though. That was good.

Dropping to his knees in the sand (when did it even become sand anyway?) Waver made to pull his friend back into an upright position.

"What are you even running from this time? Did you bother a territorial Aggron or something?"

"Waver?" Puzzlement briefly subdued the rattling terror that clamped onto Rincewind's mind like a vice. He blinked owlishly and made a mad grab for some infinitesimal amount of self-control. He stopped shaking. That was a start. He tried to say something else, but gibbered. It seemed his eyes wouldn't move. They were glued straight ahead at... at-

He let himself be hauled to a kneeling position. Rincewind feebly grasped for Waver's shoulder and tried to turn him. "I don't want to be here," he whimpered, making a desperate effort to struggle to his feet. He was trying to push Waver, to usher him away from this madness. He wanted to run. THEY needed to run before the things... before they-

RINCEWIND. It was a voice unlike any other. It was cold and sharp. It leaped directly into the mind, ignoring the ears and bypassing the whole sound wave business all together. A figure broke from the forming masses of shadow. It was roughly human-sized and it held a scythe. It was how Rincewind had envisioned Death. WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING?

Utter confusion at Rincewinds frantic actions quickly gave way to rigid fear when that ominous voice made it's presence known in Waver's mind. Freezing on the spot, with Rincewinds clothes still clutched vice-like in his hands, Waver slowly twisted around to stare at the shadowy presence.

"W-what?" He stammered, not even trusting his own cognitive processes enough to form coherent sentences in that instant. "What is that?"

Rincewind clung back. Cowardice always liked company. It made the act of being cowardly, less of a thing to be frowned on. Terror had power. Not like bravery. Being brave had a nasty tendency of souring. It had a high mortality rate and usually meant being dead.

The surrounding blotches of shadowy figures began to form half pokemon, half human things. They looked like inanimate ideas that thought they'd had a knack for taking shape, but turned out to be about as good at is as a toddler's drawing. Their voices were insubstantial like intrusive thoughts trying to make themselves more than just a thought. They needled away, pricking all the little insecurities Rincewind held about himself. Every failing doted on (his inability to graduate, how he couldn't seem to remember any spells except for the worst spell in all of history, that one time he'd dropped his books everywhere and got ink on everything, etc.). Every fear, real and unreal, traced with the fragile touch of an icepick. The most annoying part was they could be tuned in on by a third party. No secret, it seemed, was safe.

The figure stepped closer. It was entirely skeletal and was shrouded in a cloak of shadows. A pinprick of blue light shone out of each eyes socket. "I think," Rincewind started, fear quavering in his voice, "that's Death".

'Death.'

The name itself was enough to pierce anyone's heart with an icy, skeletal finger. Waver, caught in a wave of uncertainty, glanced between Rincewind and the ghostly, surreal figure multiple times before his mind was actually able to process it; shadowy, ghostly concepts were difficult for his scientific mind, comfortable enough with the theoreticals that he could study, to understand.

"....Why is Death after you?"

"Oh, it's not me. It's my life. He's after my life." He stopped. The figures had crept nearer like an encroaching darkness on a dying light. Slowly, drearily he continued. "Yours too. It's only a matter of time."

Like a noose, the note of fatalism hanged in the air.

Of all the things Rincewind feared, it was Death he feared the most. He could survive anything if he ran fast enough, but he can't outrun Death. And really, when he smoothed the rough parts of life out, whatever hadn't killed him, usually hurt a lot anyway. Life, he quietly mused, was like sentence. Rincewind's just happened to be a run-on. Death, he thought, was that final period that put a stop to the whole mess.

Speaking of Death, the skeletal figure grinned. He couldn't help it. It pointed its scythe directly at Waver. NEITHER OF YOU CAN ESCAPE ME. IT'S JUST LIKE HE SAID. I WILL BE THERE. WAITING.

The thought of the twisted, winding sentence that was Waver's life ending so abruptly didn't strike fear in the young man's heart at first; it was annoyance. Even if he wasn't a terribly powerful individual, he wanted to at least have a semi-colon before meeting that ultimate period.

"Like the winter always comes at the end of the year, right?" Waver blustered, for he was small and filled with determination to be a little more than just an easily trampled sapling in the wilderness of the world. "Like how a clock always strikes midnight at the end of each day."

He shook his head. While he didn't harbor a fear of death, he didn't seek it-- nor did he appreciate it seeking the two of them out.

"Why do you even want us anyway? We haven't done anything of interest to anyone, especially you."

ALL LIVES ARE OF INTEREST TO ME. The figure said, but it did not step closer.

"Well, mine isn't interesting," Rincewind replied, so utterly petrified with terror that he'd somehow gained a temporary backbone. "If it's all the same to you, we'd rather not die today. Plenty of other people out there, taking risks. Being interesting and getting themselves killed. Go, er, bother them."

His false bravado was already slipping, but Waver was helping. His presence dulled the sharp stabs of doubt emanating from the other things. It cushioned their stabbing remarks. It helped him focus.

"Mine's not interesting either," Waver huffed, unabashedly following Rincewind's lead now. Although they were both cowards by nature, there was still an element of courage and creativity that was necessitated by such a mindset. It took a truly brave and stubborn soul to just say no.

"Alternately, if you really want us, why not just let us live long enough to do something interesting? That way, no one's wasting anyone's time!"

IT DOESN'T MATTER TO ME HOW YOU USE YOUR TIME. ALL THAT MATTERS, IN THE END, IS THAT I WILL BE THERE. Rincewind wasn't afraid anymore. All things considered, this was a good place to be, in figurative terms. Here was Death admitting that he didn't care about having them right now. He'd wait. Waiting, decided Rincewind, was a good thing for Death to do. He could wait all he wanted.

The others were beginning to recede. They had no foothold here. The combined, realistic expectations of two failure mages was enough to terrify even the most substantial illusion. Reality, Rincewind thought, was trying to reinstate itself. It was doing a decent job of it. What it couldn't seem to wipe away was the lone silhouette before them. It continued to loom. The illusion was considering its options.

Rincewind detached himself from Waver and managed to stand. Feet still dug into the cool, silver sand. He looked over. "All right?" He asked, still unsteady on his own two legs.

Waver cast a cursory look at Rincewind, as if searching his eyes and actions for an answer to some unspoken question.

"I am," he said, nodding firmly. "Are you?"

Because he knew Rincewind was tough in his own right, but cowards would always be cowards no matter how brave they could seem at times. Somehow, he wasn't surprised that Rincewind would fear Death....then again, who didn't on some level?

"No," Rincewind gloomily admitted. "No worries, I'll get by. It's what I do." He added, absentmindedly patting the sand off his pants. The peculiar scene seemed to be losing solidity, which was fine by him. The black sky clung to the ceiling, but the walls were walls once again. The sand had lost its unearthly quality. The figure waned.

"You don't happen to know the way out?"

Frowning, Waver cast him a glum look of embarrassment in reply to the question.

"I didn't realize we were going to be entering the Labyrinth of the Minotauros," he said, shrugging helplessly. "I didn't pack nearly enough rope to mark our way."

"What about spells? Have anything handy? I know I don't." He reached a hand out and touched the wall. It was solid and wall-like. Good, he thought. Things were getting better. Even if they weren't, at least they weren't getting worse. The disembodied whispering were back to intangibility. He'd rather they'd just stop, but beggars can't be choosers.

"If you don't have anything, I suppose, we could keep going. Not that I want to."

Shaking his head, Waver sighed in frustrated defeat in reply to the question.

"No-- not anything useful for this kind of situation, anyway. And I don't want to risk teleporting down here, either." He cast Rincewind an embarrassed look. "There's nothing worse than getting yourself stuck somewhere because you didn't know the layout first."

"Ah, I see what you mean," he said, drearily. "Guess we're walking, then." He picks a direction and visibly droops. Who knew what else was waiting for them in the tunnels?

Hopefully, nothing.

"We'll be fine, Rincewind," he said, oddly confident in his declaration. "Whoever's in here looks like they're out to break us, not kill us."

"That's nice," he said. Caves, he decided, were just as horrible as he'd imagined. Even with company, it was dreadful. At least said company was another magus. Hopefully, there wouldn't be anymore of that Death stuff.

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Descent into Darkness

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