You reach a long barricade of thorns on the other side of the wall. They seem to be moving, pulsating with a life of their own and gift out a strange light. Flowers begin to bloom on the wall. When you press your hand against one, you are immediately assaulted with a strange vision (roll 1d6 to see what it is).
1. You see a skyscraper. At the very top there is a greenhouse. You feel yourself hovering above the greenhouse before diving right into it. There is a beautiful garden inside it, almost like a biodome. In the center of the biodome is what looks like some sort of chalice
2. You see hundreds of dead bodies, and a strange feeling washes over you. Apathy. You stand over the bodies and continue searching for at least one survivor. You hear yourself speak. "Are humans really so fragile?"
3. You fight against humans, but this time they are armed. Their weapons hurt. You are frustrated. They are eligible, but none of them will truly accept your wisdom. You kill many without ever feeling accepted. The feeling continues until the vision is over.
4. You fight against creatures of shadows, what you would consider your own breathren. They come in all shapes and sizes, large beasts and dragons, demons and even the undead. They refuse your knowledge. They are not compatible. They beg, negotiate and even fight against you to stop. You assimilate them for their treachery and refusal to serve.
5. You sleep in a long chamber of vines. Inside it are rows and rows of crystals. Each one is important to you. You tap against one, and it resonates, and you feel a strange sense of satisfaction. This is the power you have collected from those living and dead.
6. [ There is no actual image in this vision. Instead, you are assaulted with hundreds, thousands of conflicting thoughts, emotions, and ideals, all of them not your character's own. Your actual character's nose begins to bleed, and they fall to the ground, convulsing. They are unable to roll any other visions from the above if they reach this prompt and eventually pass out ].
Otherwise, you may continue rolling until you have fulfilled the 250 word requirement for it!
When the event is over, add +10 infection to your character's imnfection meter
The fog leaves Austin hazy, blurry, confused. It's not that he's opposed to going into the hospital exactly, but more than the world no longer makes sense around him. The aforementioned unshatterable pride that drives him forward forever has finally been broken, just a touch, and it means that for a while Austin staggers around aimlessly, neither going here nor there, simply existing.
When he finds the thorns, it's almost a relief. It is something new, something distracting. He presses his hand against it and, slowly, he pushes.
OOC
Infection rate: 15
Character's name: Austin Character's faction: University Character's journal link:Here Character's survival stats: Austin ElswoodView BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTERHERE.
Austin's slim and a bit taller than average at 5'10' with sandy hair shorn short on the sides, longer and curly on the top. His eyes, behind a pair of thin wire thick plastic frames with the wrong prescription, are faded green and usually amused; his skin is fair, freckling in sun unless he's careful; his mouth is just a little too full, in a way that appeals to most people.
and be blue rolled 1 6-sided dice:
5Total: 5 (1-6)
Posted: Sat Sep 26, 2015 2:30 pm
Quote:
You sleep in a long chamber of vines. Inside it are rows and rows of crystals. Each one is important to you. You tap against one, and it resonates, and you feel a strange sense of satisfaction. This is the power you have collected from those living and dead.
The vision takes him over all at once, replacing one world with a different one entirely -- and Austin embraces it whole-heartedly. He is in a chamber, but not just a chamber: this is his chamber, laden in vines, a home base for a man who has dedicated his life to his collection. In here, he is able to walk slowly, serious, hands folded at the small of his back as he does his evening rounds.
The crystals are his prized possessions, and he takes in each in turn, with a blossom of a memory. A person he has met along the way, a loved one, an enemy. Slowly, Austin unfolds his hands to tap one perfectly manicured finger against the surface.
You fight against humans, but this time they are armed. Their weapons hurt. You are frustrated. They are eligible, but none of them will truly accept your wisdom. You kill many without ever feeling accepted. The feeling continues until the vision is over.
A stumble and a turn puts him on a new thorn, one world melting to a new one, instead. Another time, a step backwards, or sideways, and he is something else entirely. Not the fragile, rattling body that he has here and now, prone to aches and pains, hunger and exhaustion. He has moved on from that, and all he wants is to bring wisdom to the people around him.
He opens his mouth to speak, but is thrown backwards by the putter putter putter of bullets against his shoulder, his arm, a dull ache. Austin lets out a low noise and tears someone apart as she comes at him with a crowbar in one hand and a knife in the other.
He hurts. He growls, and grumbles. And he fights on, as they try to bring him down.
and be blue rolled 1 6-sided dice:
4Total: 4 (1-6)
Posted: Sat Sep 26, 2015 3:05 pm
Quote:
You fight against creatures of shadows, what you would consider your own brethren. They come in all shapes and sizes, large beasts and dragons, demons and even the undead. They refuse your knowledge. They are not compatible. They beg, negotiate and even fight against you to stop. You assimilate them for their treachery and refusal to serve.
A twist and a shift, the thorns taking him in another direction. Austin has been here for a while, now, has been fighting this fight for so long he forgets his past life, who he was in a life less exciting. His fight moves and shifts, no longer against the humans but his own companions, the monsters he has recruited to fight the good fight. But these aren't good enough, not the right kinds of monsters to drag into his world.
They beg, and he doesn't even take pleasure in the mess of it, just follows the plan. Those who are compatible are swallowed, absorbed: are dragged in kicking and screaming or quietly miserable, to further his own power.
You see hundreds of dead bodies, and a strange feeling washes over you. Apathy. You stand over the bodies and continue searching for at least one survivor. You hear yourself speak. "Are humans really so fragile?
Does he care? Austin stands at the edge of a ledge and peers down at pile upon pile of corpses, the dead forming new mountains, and he is puzzled by the sight. This hadn't been hard, a piece of him thinks, and another wonders at how small they are, how easily they had broken. Had he once been like that, himself?
and be blue rolled 1 6-sided dice:
4Total: 4 (1-6)
Posted: Sat Sep 26, 2015 3:22 pm
Quote:
You fight against creatures of shadows, what you would consider your own brethren. They come in all shapes and sizes, large beasts and dragons, demons and even the undead. They refuse your knowledge. They are not compatible. They beg, negotiate and even fight against you to stop. You assimilate them for their treachery and refusal to serve.
He is fighting again, but this time, his eyebrows slowly knit together, head cocked just a little bit to one side. A monster is swallowed, but by now, this world is starting to crumble. This isn't real. Austin isn't here, he's somewhere else --
You see hundreds of dead bodies, and a strange feeling washes over you. Apathy. You stand over the bodies and continue searching for at least one survivor. You hear yourself speak. "Are humans really so fragile?
He digs through the bodies, and as he pulls an arm aside, the corpse beneath moves. It twitches, it rolls over. It looks up at him with terrified green eyes.
They peer out of his own face.
and be blue rolled 1 6-sided dice:
3Total: 3 (1-6)
Posted: Sat Sep 26, 2015 3:24 pm
Quote:
You fight against humans, but this time they are armed. Their weapons hurt. You are frustrated. They are eligible, but none of them will truly accept your wisdom. You kill many without ever feeling accepted. The feeling continues until the vision is over.
A knife slides through his flesh, and all Austin can feel is the pain, throbbing: the certainty that he is between, that he is neither here nor there, not one of them and never will be. He pulls someone to pieces and remembers, a she does, how it felt to wrap his arms around someone more slowly, in the warm and in the dark.
You see a skyscraper. At the very top there is a greenhouse. You feel yourself hovering above the greenhouse before diving right into it. There is a beautiful garden inside it, almost like a biodome. In the center of the biodome is what looks like some sort of chalice.
By this point, the dream has started to fall to pieces. Thorns poke through his vision, taking over the greenhouse as Austin hovers over it, and he crashes down on top of them, prickled and aching, shuddering as he peers around the garden. It is serene and out of sorts with how he feels, the hammering of his heart as he reaches for the chalice that sits in its center.
and be blue rolled 1 6-sided dice:
3Total: 3 (1-6)
Posted: Sat Sep 26, 2015 3:28 pm
Quote:
[ There is no actual image in this vision. Instead, you are assaulted with hundreds, thousands of conflicting thoughts, emotions, and ideals, all of them not your character's own. Your actual character's nose begins to bleed, and they fall to the ground, convulsing. They are unable to roll any other visions from the above if they reach this prompt and eventually pass out ].
((OOC NOTE: Since I did all teh other prompts [some twice] and also hit wordcount, I hope it's ok I end with this one.))
And at once, the dream shatters: the start of a picture melting and leaving him back at the edge of the wall, palm prickled from the thorns and nose bleeding freely as he falls to his knees, shaky. He is filled with someone else, something else, and in the heart of the confusion, Austin is only certain that the monster that overtakes him is the monster he could become. His head is pounding, his glasses abandoned off to one side.
There he will remain, for a long time. Twitching and convulsing, sweater stained with blood.
