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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[Gordon looks back to Rincewind.]

Honest question, or making small talk?

[There's a long straight away then, illuminated only by Gordon's flashlight, the other end outside of the cone of light.]

If it's an honest question, only a moment or two ago. It's something with this cave.

[The chaotic tension persists, even during this otherwise quiet moment.]

Honest question. [ He answered ] For not having heard them 'til now, I'd say you're doing a stellar job at remaining calm. Suppose it's apart of the job, eh?

[ He's noticed the tense feel in the air, even though things had gone quiet. It bodes. ]

[Gordon shrugs.]

Partly the job, partly just... past can't hurt you.

[He glances back towards where they came, though there's no sign of the blonde, or the rooftop.]

Any more than it already has, anyway.

[The next corner, and they're looking down what is definitely a tunnel made of rock, but one that ends in a door and a wall, like hundreds of others in Union. The Squirtle lets out a happy little noise and runs forward on stubby legs to jump up for the doorknob. At the same time, that tension in the air goes mad, a too taut violin string played by a madman with a razor blade, building to a crescendo.]

[The door swings inward, a startled sound coming from all three Pokemon and the old man at what lies inside. The violin string snaps. On the floor of the home, decorated with family pictures and scattered magazines and a million other pleasant reminders, lie three lifeless bodies, red hair and redder blood pooling beneath them on the floor. Gordon freezes in shock.]

[ Rincewind walks next to him. The sight hits him like a brick-laden sock. His breath catches in his throat. ]

... Er ... I- I don't know how to put this without sounding like an emotionally blunted lunatic, but ... are ... are the dead people really in front of us or is it still the , er, past? If it's the latter, I think it's just gone an done some bruising.

[ He stares. Past or not, he felt Death brush past. It was a sobering view. ]

If it's the former, I'd very much like to run.

[Gordon's answer to the question is weak as he steps forward, stunned.]

Not the past.

[Close inspection will show his own face in many of the family photos, red hair turning slowly to grey as the children in the photos grow taller and older, the same children lying in pools of their own blood.]

It can't be real.

[There's a weak, unsteady sort of certainty in the statement, but it doesn't stop the image from getting to him. He drops to his knees by the bodies, his Pokémon soon joining him in mourning, the Squirtle shaking the young girl's body, trying to wake her, tears streaming down blue cheeks as he fails. A voice, unlike any of the others before, not Gordon's, not his wife's, not even the blonde's on the roof, more elemental, more chaotic, a voice that could not possibly belong to any human being punctuates the blow.]

Home late again, Jim? And you missed all the fun.

Can't see why it would be. For one, I think we might still be in the cave. A very strange cave mind you ... [ He starts, a dreary note playing on every word. Death was always heavy. Three deaths was too much. Rincewind had turned away and fixed his gaze on a wall. ] For another, I don't remember seeing them when I was outside. Plenty of people coming in. None of them looking like ... well. [ He coughs. What nice wallpaper. Very ... floral? His squint intensified at the intrusion of the new voice. ]

[ It was chilling. Rincewind's feet did a kind of dance as he reoriented himself towards the nearest exit and prepared for a proper dash. ]

Who's that?

[Gordon closes his eyes, blocking out the image.]

My wife and children.

[The voice is bodiless, and doesn't return, seeming to have existed just for that little jab. Jim weren't there, he didn't help.]

Sorry.

[ Rincewind isn't sure how to react. He'd been bracing to hear the disembodied voice again, but it hadn't come back. He casts a mournful look at Gordon. Gosh, he wasn't taking this well. Rincewind's flight response wasn't tingling at the moment so he felt safe to approach. He awkwardly rests a hand on Gordon's shoulder. ]

[Gordon glances to Rincewind at the hand, and he lets out a slow, shuddering breath.]

I made all these excuses to stay out, to stay away. I was always too busy.

[He lets out another slow breath.]

I know it's not real, I know this isn't them, but... it could be, and I have never been more scared in my life.

So, it isn't them? That's great. Nothing like a psychological jab to start your day. Except, erm ... they are alive, right? I'm not being insensitive? I remember you telling me you had kids. Or was it just the wife?

[ Bugger his memory. He's about to feel the extreme of either relief or shame in a minute. ]

[Gordon sighs heavily, tearing his eyes away from the upsetting image.]

This isn't the past. It might be the future, or Savior forbid, the present.

[He takes a deep, steadying breath.]

I should make more time for them.

Don't see why you can't. Time's a limited resource. You have to work with what's given. Know what I mean?

If not seeing them enough is really bothering you, I think you should.

[ He gives the grisly scene a lasting look. ]

[Rincewind's simple, obvious suggestion sets off a cascade of excuses, every one of them in Jim's voice, if not as it is now, how it once was. However, not a single one of them comes from his lips, each one coming from everywhere at once, as if the walls of the apartment themselves were talking.]

After the baby's born, I promise.

The city needs me.

After this case.

[The excuses soon blur together into a sort of cacophony, and, when they do go silent, they're replaced by a silence utterly unlike the silence of the absence of noise. The silence seems to be waiting for something. The silence is broken by James' voice, uttered from his own lips.]

There was always time later. Always something more import-- No, not more important.

[He looks at the grisly scene.]

I always thought I'd be able to make up for lost time later. That one day I'd retire and be able to spend all the time I wanted with them.

[He runs his fingers through his wife's hair, and looks at his children.]

I've missed so much. You're right. Time is a limited resource, and I'm suddenly not so sure I've been using mine well.

[ A tad spooked by the jumble of excuses coming from everything except Jim. Oh, and the bodies were still there. Nothing like casually talking over bodies. ]

Look, I can see this is eating you up inside, but, ad interim, let's get out of here. There's a time and place for looking at one's life. I don't think this is one of them. Life's hard enough to sort out as it is without a cave having to mirror back all the nasty things in our heads.

[Gordon pushes to his feet, Rex the Stoutland standing next to him as a quiet support.]

In this case, I'd say Union actually does need us.

[He pauses, almost as if expecting the cave to disagree.]

Let's do what we came for, /then/ get home.

[He looks to the younger man.]

Thank you, Rincewind.

[Another look around, and he finds a door. Normally it's a Broom Closet, but in this cave? He opens it, it opening out back onto the caves, a well lit cavern at the other end of a short passage.]

Not a problem. We're still in one piece, mentally and physically speaking.

[ Rincewind trots along beside him and the Luggage behind them. ]

Wouldn't quite go that far, but I'll manage.

[He steps into the well lit cavern, where Diancie awaits.]

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Descent into Darkness

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