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 Posted: Sun Mar 20, 2016 2:00 pm
Volkarosh
15 HP
Intro
The youngling's dreams were practical, always. Not particularly vivid, nor active, nor inspiring - merely the electrical impulses of the brain made real, rehashings of important things she had learned how to do, the memorizations of lessons or paths or chores.
That was why the sudden shiver in her dream world was so noticable. That was why the colors that exploded and blended and swirled confusingly around her were so strange. And the falling... oh the falling...
She found herself on softened ground before she could be afraid of the fall, staring up into a strange sky. The youngling stood, looking around her, puzzled.
She was in a clearing, a large one. She knew she dreamt, in a fashion, but the muted colors were so real, so alive, that it was almost like, somehow, via her dreams, she had stepped into someplace else. Monsters adorned the trees, and she investigated them.
They were silent. Watchful. Silently, she watched them back - what more could she do? There was no path out...
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Posted: Sun Mar 20, 2016 2:09 pm
Ruelash
25hp
Intro
Ruelash feared falling. Few things scared him, but falling was one of them. Having grown up around sheer heights and Ice-thorned abysses, he knew how a fall could kill you, in the many ways that it could kill you. He was good at climbing, and rarely found himself in a situation where a fall could kill him. It was enough, though, not to fall. Volkarosh knew of his fear, if only because he had drilled it into her as well, or tried to. He had taught her how to climb, and climb well, in the hopes that she would never fall.
What she didn't know was that, in his dreams, sometimes he died. He fell and fell and fell, and died and died, screaming as the sky was torn away from him, or - alternatively - as the sky stole him away. Or, almost worse, he dreamed of Veshki, torn and impaled by the icicles of the abyss. Veshki fell, and fell, and fell, and died. It was one of the few ways that Ruelash remembered his brother's face, so etched was it into his dreams.
Most of the time, though, his dreams were simple, straightforward, and boring. Killing, or eating, or even sleeping - they were simple acts, with simple goals. This was one such dream - he dreamt that he was warm and fed. Volkarosh was skinning her latest kill, and he was trying to carve. Carving, of course, took forever, and no matter what he tried to do to it, it never seemed to take. It even erased itself before he finished. It was a frustrating dream, but not a bad one.
And then he felt a terrible dread. Suddenly, the floor of the cave beneath him was much less solid, the dream less simple, the scenery around him more wavery. He could feel it coming, a fall, but into where? To what?
Suddenly, the world opened around him, and he fell, screaming mutely.
Soft ground met his fall. It was not the foliage and mud of Jahuar, or the sand of Oba, but it was soft and he was alive. Heart racing, he drew his blades and got to his feet, unreasonably angry at the interruption. "W'as this, then?!" he snarled, brandishing his swords at the monstrous trees...
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Posted: Sun Mar 20, 2016 2:16 pm
Votzhem
25 hp
---
Votzhem's dreams rarely followed a specific story. They wisped and wafted wherever they pleased, both beautiful and terrifying - sometimes in turn, sometimes in sequence. Occasionally, ending in sudden, blinding white.
Tonights dream, though, had a plot. Kaalnia had wanted his help with something, a something that was apparently over a large cliff that somehow got steeper and higher as he climbed. Bright purple crystals evaded his hands, and her impatient taunts echoed from the top of the cliff - which she, of course, scaled with ease. When he reached the top, he saw flowers.
So many flowers.
Lots of flowers.
The story changed, and he was swimming in those flowers as if they were water, surrounded by a rich, thick, sweet scent. He was going somewhere, until he realized he didn't know where he was supposed to go... and what was beneath these flowers, anyway? He took in a deep breath and ducked beneath the bruised petals.
Snow. So much snow. Had he been swimming in snow? He looked up, at the warmth of Jahuar shimmering through the petals, then back at the cold snow beneath him. Was there a Zena-scape beyond? It was confusing. He found he could walk, and he walked towards a tree as it seemed like the place to go...
-Crack-
The dream stopped, the world around him blurring and shattering as, suddenly, the petals and the snow were no more. He was falling, falling, falling, to a strange ground in a strange place. Somehow, he was aware that this was not the same as his dream. Or, perhaps, wasn't even his dream. He rose to a crouch, and looked around him, his antennae twitching warily...
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Posted: Sun Mar 20, 2016 2:35 pm
Dyakida
25hp
---
In her dreams, Dyakida saw. It was distorted and strange, but there was light and color. Texture, smell, and sound, however, were far more real, the visual correlates not quite matching up.
But Dyakida didn't care. In fact, she didn't even notice.
Her dream tonight was normal - she dreamed of Neued, of a tent that smelled of spices. Cloth flapped as she assumed it flapped, in the brilliant reds and yellows she had been told they flapped in, but they were unimportant. Warm smells met her nose, and friendly, muffled sounds met her ears. People danced quietly in the tent, murmuring to each other. Dyakida had a cup of hot tea in her hand, and she sipped it as she tried to make out the conversation. It's flavor exploded onto her tongue, and made the room dance and shiver with color.
A gentle touch on her arm. Oil-tinged fingers worked their way up from her hand to her shoulder, resting there. She did not look to them - she didn't know what they looked like - but their features came to her, rounded and firm. The smell of their skin was mild, but inviting, the whisper in her ear like cooled juice on a hot day. The touch drifted to her neck, and she leaned into it, smiling...
And then it was gone. The dream shivered and shattered, sparkling and swirling with color and sound and texture until it was all a white, undefinable mass. All she could sense, in the storm of sensation, was that she was falling.
Had fallen.
She stood, now, in a clearing, a strange clearing. The colors were wrong, but they no longer had the same irrelevance as the usual colors of her dreams - these, she knew somehow, were the true colors, the true shapes. She could see them. In this clearing, in this space, she could see, and it did not seem odd at all.
Still, after long habit, she trusted her other senses more than her eyes. Her hands especially: She ran them along a tree, feeling the craggy shapes that seemed to stare out at her sullenly, smelling the muted, damp smell of the forest, hearing the quiet of the forest.
It was a strange place.
Where was she?
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Posted: Sun Mar 20, 2016 4:16 pm
Itotia
Stage 2
20 HP
Often, she would dream of home.
It mostly was fleeting memories, but the dreams she had were vivid enough that it left her heaving when she would wake up. Even if she didn't actually smell it, she felt like she had, and it would bring tears to her eyes. The memories always left her longing, and it was hard to roll out of bed the next morning.
Tonight was another dream of her past, the lands around her familiar as she danced through the paths from one settlement to the next. She was laughing, full of life and spunk and entirely different than the bitter woman she was now. It was a long dance, but she didn't encounter anyone or anything, only a strange shiver that altered the landscape into something new. It warped and twisted, and left her falling down. The decent felt like she was falling to her doom, or to her waking nightmare, but instead of plummeting awake she simply landed in a clearing.
The land was different, and she wondered absently if this was a place int he mainland she had yet to reach. The twisting of the trees seemed life-like; maybe it was the land of the bug women, the monsters of the mainland. Yet no one came, and she was left wandering to see if there was something more hidden in the clearing that was now her 'home'.
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Posted: Sun Mar 20, 2016 4:36 pm
Dris'rynne - Intro / 20 HP
Lately, Dris' dreams always revolved around her girls.
She was at home nestled among her things with no thought of Oba or it's people anywhere near her mind. When she reached for them her sisters came easily into her arms, each girl taking it upon themselves to cuddle close to her. There was singing; always singing, but it wasn't theirs. Dris'rynne couldn't hear her sisters voices over the melodies, though it never seemed to bother her. They were here, with her, where they belonged and that was enough for her. She might have stayed there forever had it not been for the shiver.
It felt as if a physical shove had jostled her from her bed. The singing took on a demented quality; distorted into low and high, whispers and wails. Dris'rynne reached out for her sisters, watching as they were sucked into cracks that seemed to take over the space before the whole realm shook like a radaku after the rain.
Dris'rynne screamed for them, but her voice never surpassed that horrific lullaby. The songstress sounded as if the song itself were shredding through their vocal cords, pulling and pushing, until Dris'rynne fell through the floor of her home into the abyss. All of the colors shifted around her, forming into a giant mass that couldn't seem to choose it's shape.
Then all at once she was on the ground. Shapes of beasts, both familiar and new, surrounded her. Dris'rynne rose to her feet, spinning in a slow, small circle while she tried to decipher just what was gong on.
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Posted: Sun Mar 20, 2016 4:47 pm
Ujana - Intro / 15 HP
In her dream Ujana talked amicably with a high ranking Oban official amidst a pretty clearing filled to the brim with lush grasses and violet flowers. When he spoke, however, his words had a sort of lisp to them; mostly because where his face should have been there was a butt.
The General's hair remained ever stylish atop the rounded globes of his 'face', swaying only slightly as he spoke of things Ujana didn't care to understand. IT just sounded like background noise to her. When she leaned back in her seat, her fingers reached out to touch those of the alkidike sitting next to her, who immediately began to praise her for her battle prowess. "-we've never seen a warrior with your skill before! To have defeated the extremists all by yourself-"
"It was nothing, sweet cheeks." Looking the General, she couldn't help, but to laugh. Both of her guest joined in as well, making the moment all the sweeter when the alks vague face shifted into that of a butt as well.
At first she didn't even pay attention to how things shifted around her. Ujana was used to random shifts in her dreams, though the sensation of falling always disturbed her. She wasn't a fan of heights, so naturally she screamed, but it only lasted a moment before she hit the ground.
"...what happened to my dream?" When she rose up to look around, she couldn't feel disappointment or fear. Just a sense of wrongness; of confusion. What happened to all the butts?
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Posted: Sun Mar 20, 2016 5:55 pm
|| Lenila ▼
|| Post: 1
|| HP: 15“You’re a princess, my love.”
“I know.” Lenila shot her mother a beaming grin. She was six years old, here, her hand half the size of her mother’s as they intertwined, and all the colors about her were warm. Pinks, yellows, and white, white gold. The air smelled of flowers, but also of cinnamon and sugar, somehow encompassing all the best food at once and the sweetest. Music played, gently and in the distance, tinkling like a music box, and her mother pulled her into her lap.
She almost shut her eyes, and almost relaxed—but then, in a spurt of insight, snapped her gaze around instead. “I don’t want t’ close my eyes too long. You know I mustn’t, so don’t let me.”
“Why, darling?”
“Because I don’t want to wake up, of course.” She huffed and pivoted because truly, she had to explain this every night, and her mother always forgot. Unfortunately, that was all she had the opportunity to say before the world began to shift. She stiffened in her mother’s lap, surprised at first, and then petulant, glowering at the walls as they rippled. “Oiiii, I didn’ say you could change. ‘M not done here yet! ‘Ey—!”
That, though, was the end of her objection as the swirling colors of the castle room shifted and melted, and Lenila was falling, falling. Falling. When she hit ground, she puffed. Ever the imaginative sort, she couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t had waking fantasies about her day to day existence — the difference between ‘daydreams,’ ‘playing pretend,’ and ‘lying’ often blurring together so far as her own perception was concerned — and as such, dreams, from the moment she’d been old enough to recognize them, had been a point of fascination. A headspace all her own that she went to when she fell asleep. A thrilling concept where the world could be literally what she made of it during those fragments of time.
With this attitude, over the years Len had crafted and perfected that art until, often at least, or even almost always, she had great amounts of awareness and control of her thoughts while sleeping.
Despite this, or because of it, the push and disconnect from that irritated her. The scene wasn’t supposed to change. But she was in her ‘normal’ body, now. Fourteen years old with her dagger back at her hip, and the ground beneath her feet was porous and soft, the creatures around her both new and strange. Awake, they would have bothered her, but here — aware still that she was dreaming, despite the oddity of this one — none of them could really hurt her. It was her dream.
“And because of that, seems I could do with a better blade, don’t it?” she asked, pulling her dagger and grinning as — through the pull — it lengthened, stretching into a gleaming blade fit for a knight from a far off castle. Perhaps a cape, too. She shook her head, hair falling long and loose down her back over her new cape. “Now tha’s better, ain’t it?”
Her friend nodded. She couldn’t really make out their identity, but that was normal in a dream, and it didn’t matter, regardless. All that did matter was the presence of a friend. A good companion made all the difference during a proper adventure, after all.
“To the keep!” she said, lifting her sword and then leading the march into the surrounding land. Whatever this place was that her mind wanted her to visit, she might as well make the most out of it.
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Posted: Sun Mar 20, 2016 6:04 pm
Hijil
25 hp
Intro
Hijil dreamed of berries, a whole bush full of them, full and dark with sweet ambrosial juice. It stained her hands and face and clothes as she ate, and ate, and ate. They were irresistable, Hijil could not stop eating them.
Suddenly, it occurred to her to bring some back for Bhima and the Kinfa, surely, they would like some. The bush had plenty to spare, an infinite amount, and she filled a bag of berries. It filled and filled, an infinite bag of berries. They bled into the cloth, but they were still good.
Eventually, Hijil decided that she had enough, and she carried the bag away along a sun-speckled trail. Joy suffused her steps, skipping happily along the path...
Until the threads of the dream dissolved. It shivered and shattered and suddenly she wasn't skipping - she was falling. Normally, falling would be a cause for concern, but for some reason, she wasn't. She landed on the soft loam of a forested clearing. She wiped some berry juice from her face and gazed around her idly, taking in the strange trees and muted sounds.
An odd place she thought...
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Posted: Sun Mar 20, 2016 6:35 pm
|| Damissan ❂
|| Post: 1
|| HP: 20The red sun had sunk.
Moonlight gleamed over the gold desert like sharp silver, ethereal on the dunes. Molten. Cool. A paradox of itself, and behind thin red curtains turned purple by night, Damissan stood in a bedroom steeped in shadow. Lit by nothing but the silvern beams spilling through the far window, but not empty. Across from him, a figure waited. Indefinite.
Since his ‘awakening,’ and his personal vow to abstain from all those things which previously led him astray, this was all that plagued him in the night: fingertips—touching with the delicacy of a paintbrush and then less so, pressing and tracing up his skin; breath—loud enough to hear but only just, and warm against the bitter n** of a desert night; and a mouth—catching at his, pulling him closer into shadow ever tempting. And he wanted. And he wanted.
But the world stretched, instead. It bent and then fractured, and the familiar warmth of this twisted and plummeted into something else entirely.
Damissan was disoriented. Enough so that he barely recognized that he was falling until his feet hit ground and this, he realized immediately, was not sand beneath him. Nor was it the hard, dry packed clay that made up some of his homeland, or even stone. It was soft, with an only barely stiffer consistency than a sponge under his boots. He frowned, surveying the land, and his pulse quickened as he did, for there were beasts here, and trees that bent and twisted. Strange and contorted. The colors felt wrong, the world dulled from what it ought to be.
Reaching towards his hip, he found nothing.
No blade.
And he was alone.
The isolation of it all, more than anything, left him with a strange ache. Drawing a deep breath, he opted to wait.
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Posted: Sun Mar 20, 2016 8:36 pm
||Takoda||
|| Hp: 25
|| Intro: Post 1
Dreams. The shifter had his fair share of experience with dreams. Some were pleasant and others twisted reminders of things he had been forced to experience in his lifetime. It had started out nice enough. Floating. It was almost a numbing sort of sensation. All at once it the world felt.'wrong'. Like a person tearing through a stream the ripples causing the world around him to crackle and the sensation of him falling caused his heart to jump into his throat.
He tried to regain his control but he was unable to slow his decent. He glanced over his shoulder to see the ground coming up to greet him with welcoming arms. He braced for impact but as his back brushed against the ground he found him setting down quite gently. Lungs burned for air, he had been holding his breath for impact and he quietly exhaled and drew breath. Above him the sky had contorted into unsettling colours. Sitting up the monk looked about. He was alone and he felt chilled. Standing he moved about trying to find a direction to move forward only to discover...unsettlingly that no matter what direction he moved he always ended up back where he started.
Though nothing stood out, it was only the sky above him that allowed him to keep track of his location. The clearing though was stuck in an endless loop..he wasn't going to get anywhere this way and he felt...a bit lost.
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Posted: Mon Mar 21, 2016 10:15 am
Draven
Hp: 20
Post 1
Even the noise from the bustling market didn't really bothered Draven as he drifted off for a nap. His hands folded behind his head and leaning against Regale's crimson side. It might not have looked like it was comfortable, but he wouldn't have it any other way. Even the half grown Janarim sighed in sleep. Slipping through the folds of oblivion, Draven dropped into one of his brighter dreams as a kid, playing with others. Something he had never done until a few years ago, though it didn't seem that long.
Laughter rang through his dreams before everything seemed to shatter and he dropped through a hole in the bottom. Down, down he fell, spinning at times the mess of colors as the descent continued. Near the end, he closed his eyes against the flashing mess, his head feeling like it too was spinning and his stomach queasy. Was this ever going to stop? It did, with a thunk as he landed on his stomach in the grass.
"That was not fun." Draven groaned as he tried to pick himself up, the world spun again causing him to sit back down for a time. "Now where have I landed? Regale?" He looked around, the Janarim was no where to be seen, concerned, Draven picked himself up off the ground, spinning or not. He needed to know where he was.
Turning slowly, he spotted things he wouldn't want to meet even on a good day. Groping at his side, he felt nothing, lovely. Unarmed and facing this mess? What would the odds? Certainly didn't look to be in his favor.
"Could really use some help here, Regale would have been great." Draven muttered moving backwards slowly, trying not to turn his back on anything that might make a quick snack of him.
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Posted: Mon Mar 21, 2016 10:35 am
Vollerei (stage 4) post 1
25 hp
A typical dream: food in abundance and she was happily eating it all. Vollerei knew it to be a dream: endless food? Never happened in reality. She always had to make it or it ran out. But like all dream food it had flavors she hadn't tasted: somehow strange delicious flavors never smelled nor eaten were always present. And she could never remember them when she woke up!
She was reaching out for some delicacy she had seen at a festival years ago when the dream changed. It twisted and snapped. The food shattering and falling away as the dream left her.
She growled and reached for a weapon that (dream logic) was right there as the world changed and she landed inside a different dream. One with twisted trees and bold dark colors. Shifting trees changed shapes into beasts and monsters from reality and dreams; she stayed where she was for a bit. Confused but also knowing this was a new dream Vollerei settled in to see what would happen.
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Posted: Mon Mar 21, 2016 3:41 pm
Siha (stage baby) post 1
15 HP
He normally dreamed of strange things: music and bright vivid creations his mind made up... sweet dreams of a child barely toddling around. Burbling happily about a shifting landscape that was all the worlds he'd ever known in one: desert, buildings, oasis, and his parents.
So when the world shattered all about him, Siha curled into a ball and cried for his parents: except in a dream world no one could hear him or help him.
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Posted: Tue Mar 22, 2016 7:34 pm
Kian/Intro/20 HP
The sweetest of melodies echoed throughout the meadows. For once the skies were clear as well and the snows of Zena just glimmered around the trio as they played. Happiness had been so fleeting for so long, but it was days like these that had made him feel so content, so loved. Yet, the last time he had experienced such feelings by being with his father and twin the mage had been just a youngling…
This is all a façade.
The thought sent a sharp awareness through him as he shifted away from his child self and to the young male that he currently was. Suddenly the skies were not so clear anymore and his father’s fine features were disappearing like a wisp of smoke. His own sister suddenly seemed empty of life and her gaze was darkening, turning as black as the skies above them.
It was in such an abyss that Kian fell. Fell through the mists of shadows to end up on the ground all alone. The feelings he felt here were too reminiscent of a place he had known…frowning the mage reached out his hands to get a sense of what was around him – such an eerie sky and were those trees or strange beasts gazing at him? This surely was some new level of nightmare that he had yet to encounter….
Still, what was a nightmare but another thing to conquer? Mouth set in a firm line, Kian moved forward to try and investigate what he could.
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