Outside 48: Hotter than Inside

[bc56]

Waylaid Tours - Daves and Graves

This lady is pretty. Pretty suspicious (but also just pretty too). Dave is increasingly convinced that she's a grave robber, although he's not about to turn her in. First of all, there aren't any authorities here to do so. Secondly, these graves are really old. Nobody is going to care if they get dug up. He doesn't believe in desecration. "Well, there was one back the way I came. Hit her head on a gravestone just that way, past the iron gate." He points the way he came. "What is this 'Thing?' How can I get back to civilization?" She must know. There's no point in robbing graves if you can't sell your ill-gotten gains somewhere.

[Rebonack]

[Waylaid Tour]
Hector

You quickly decide that whoever lives in that house isn't the sort of person you relish meeting.

So instead you press on, fleeing down the trail marked by another morbid dream catcher. This path doesn't take you far, however, before you encounter another problem.

There's a sleeping wolf in the middle of the path.

Or...

At least you think it's sleeping.

And it resembles a wolf.

Or rather, it resembles several wolves that all occupy the same same space at the same time, an incoherent jumble of bodies and limbs and heads and tails. There's something wrong with its feet. They look like hooves. There's something wrong with its fur. Black vines protrude from it, digging into the rotten soil. There's something even more wrong with its eyes.

It doesn't have any.

Instead, branching rust-colored antlers? have grown from the sockets. Every now and again a word drips from the antlers and splashes against the forest floor.

Danger.
Run.
Flee.
Help.
Pain.

With each word you feel a spike of what it describes just being in proximity with the horror.

You could try sneaking around it. It is, after all, asleep. Or you could go back the way you came and hope that whatever lives in the hut won't notice you. Or maybe, just maybe, you could help this abomination somehow? Somehow it exudes an aura of almost palpable pity.

What do you do?

((Gwyn and Dave will get their replies when I return from work))

[Deathkeeper]

[Waylaid Tours]

Well, that is certainly horrifying. And yet he feels the wave of pity hit him, so oddly enough it seems more pathetic than the fear caused by the simple home on the tree.
It seems to indicate he should be fleeing, but not if he should be fleeing from it, or from his surroundings. Frankly he'd like to do both. But at least for now, he wants to try.
Mostly because this abomination seems rooted to the ground, and perhaps it wouldn't be very good at chasing him.
Hector tries to slowly step towards the creature, staying as close to the side of the path and away from it as he can. Maybe he can figure out what's wrong with it as he gets close. Because if he's going to get past it, he's going to have to get close.
And if it threatens him, he will turn around and sprint the other way.

[5a Violista]

[Waylaid Tour]
Carlie

The 'bunnygirl' kicks the seaweed that clung to her leg off. "Bruce? Can anyone hear me?" Even seaweed and straonge pillars won't stop her from doing what she thinks is best. "It's me, Carlie. Bruce!" Honestly, this forest and the area seems like the kind of place where you'd hear weird noises and not sure who it's coming from. Suddenly hearing an echoing voice (from a cave) call out your name would spook you a little, but if you know who's calling out for you then maybe it won't be as scary.

Obviously Carlie can't go back: one of the paths, she's not sure she could take at the moment. The other leads her away from her goal.

She hears the sound and turns.
...
She realizes thermal vision isn't all that helpful this close to the water. Sure, it'll still help if she runs across another person from the bus because they'll still be warm, but. . .

She can hear something there, so she looks and tries to find it. Sure...it could also have been a disguised person but wouldn't they have said something by now if it were? Are there any other senses she knows that could help in this situation? Sharks, maybe. Don't they sense things through electricity? Before Carlie can do that, however, she'll have to remember how it worked. She's seen it before, but she generally avoids things like that when possible.
Sharks are, after all, fish too.
Smell could probably help but there's no way she's turning back on her sense of smell until she can figure out a way to filter the fishy smell out.
So she knows something's there. Probably an animal of some kind. It's going to keep on sneaking up on her so long as it thinks she hasn't noticed it. So, it's obvious what she has to do.

Carlie backs away from where she assumes it is, trying to get one of those pillars directly behind her. Her left hand's wrist opens up and a sharp knife slides out into her hand. She readies her foot, ready to kick sand at whatever it is, if it suddenly tries to jump out at her. And she calls out again, directing her voice at where she thinks this...slithery thing is. "Is someone there? You can come out."

[Earl of Purple]

Waylaid Tour- Birdwatcher

With a groan, the birdwatcher sits up. She looks around, a little curiously, before panicking and checking her camera for breakages. The satchel was by her feet, so that's probably gone, which is a pity. It's hard finding books about all the possible birds and bird-like creatures one might find in the Nexus. And lenses and tripods and other such peripherals of photography can be expensive. She spots her chair, and pales; she was very, very lucky.

The crow's cawing makes her jump, and she looks around and tries to take a photograph of it. Easier if it's not moving. She'll lie down and wriggle closer to the edge, get a look at the ground, and gulps again. She's really high. There's several paths, she sees. The confined, dark space that is the tree's trunk, the dizzying heights of following the talismans or across the branches through the canopy. The first is dark, and she has... Huh. She does have light, the camera has a flash. Oh! And she had a lighter; she always has a lighter. Across the branches looks tricky and dangerous, leaving... up. Well, that's not good. Not for finding the bus and any other survivors. But there might be somebody who has a way down that isn't as dark or creepy.

Keeping her lighter handy, she heads towards the nearest talisman and snaps a close up photo of it, before heading upwards, through the treetops.

[Nova_Eclipse]

Nightmare Forest


Quin narrows his eyes as his thrusters roar to life and he hovers over the creek as the others make their way across the fallen tree, his hands aimed at the rocks that moved. If they they try to attack the others, they'll have hell to pay.

"They did move. Be careful, both of you," he warns above the din of his his flight mechanisms.

[Morty]

[Nightmare Forest]

As the trio make their way across the river, one way or the other, the rocks continue to move. They congregate to the left of the tree, but not on the right. It appears that the ones on the right are diving and swimming to the left. They finally form... something like a snake's head? It's like it's supposed to be some kind of river-spirit, but it's half-finished and deformed.

"Why are you going there?" it asks in a weak, rumbling voice. "There's nothing good there. Everything ends there."

[Rebonack]

[Waylaid Tour]
Gwyn

The way is lit. The path is clear. You require only the strength to follow it.

As you clamber your way out of the ancient, rusted pipe you enter a domain more ancient still. Crumbling brick and vaulted arches dominate here, stone tunnels spreading away in a myriad of a directions. It would be a simple thing to become hopelessly lost in this netherworld of fetid, stagnant pools and artificial caves, but many are mercifully blocked with rubble. Earth. Bricks. Stone. Human bones, wet and rotten, discarded like driftwood. The stopped up tunnels like... almost intentionally plugged. And should you inspect the blockages more closely, you will find quits of quivering, red, raw meat sticking between the stones. It twitches and squirms under your light, spidery dead-black eyes watching.

Ancient sewers. Or perhaps aqueducts?

Whatever they are, they no longer serve the purpose of transporting water, fresh or otherwise, anywhere. They bear only corruption and pestilence. The floor is littered with refuse, bits of rotted wood and sodden rope. The rust ring of a barrel. A slab of glossy black stone. A banner trampled down into the mire. Heaps of garbage tossed haphazardly. There's only one way forward.

Press on.

The only unblocked tunnel leading through a mire of ankle deep water and squelching mud. At least you hope it's mud. The scent that assaults your nostrils with every step is nauseating. From beyond the mouth of the tunnel come sounds of violence.

The chamber beyond is low and smokey, rusted iron braziers filling the room with flickering firelight, casting in nightmarish shadowed half-light a pitched battle between three smaller creatures and one larger. For a brief, heart stopping moment you mistake the hulking beast for the Thing. But no, it squeals and shrieks. The abomination you narrowly escaped was as silent as the grave. The smaller creatures are lanky, wiry things, wearing filthy clothing and wielding bronze-headed spears. They're hyena headed things, with milky white eyes and rotten, lipless grins. The larger beast is a misshapen abomination misbegotten from the fever-dreams of a madman. It is as though someone took a pig and a bear and mashed them together, replacing their meat with porous white fungal flesh oozing globs of viscous crimson slime. Eyes and mouths. Claws and hooves. Ears and tails. An incoherent mass of hunger and fury. In spite of its ungainly form it moves with unnatural swiftness, bringing one of its awful limbs down on one of the hyena headed things and crushing the life from it, leaving nothing but rotting flesh and shattered bones behind. The other two scraggly creatures plunge their spears into the horror, causing a spray of red fluid that temporarily drowns the smell of decay in a heady, sweet, pungent aroma.

There are two tunnels leading away from this insanity.

The first on the far side of the room, a phosphorescent green glow illuminating the tunnel.

The second, closer, a tighter tunnel overgrow with twitching red meat like moss might grow over bricks in any wholesome place.

Or... Or you could tempt madness and attempt to help one of the two parties in this deadly dance.

What do you do?

Dave

The ghulah's expression brightens at the mention of a fresh corpse.

"That's grea-uh. Terrible. So sad. I should go bury her. Right now. Yeah," the perhaps graverobber replies, eyes flicking in the direction you indicated to her. "The Thing? It's... y'know. A Thing. The Thing what hunts the old road. It hunts anyone who sees it clearly. You see it, you're dead. Doesn't even leave any scraps for anyone else."

She sounds vaguely offended by that fact.

"If it's coming, and believe you me you'll be able to tell it's coming, you find a nice little hole to hide in. Curl up in a ball, cover your face, and pray that it ignores you if you're the prayin' type. I ain't never seen it of course. But it crossed my path what two, three times in these damned woods? I just found a nice pit to crawl into."

That would be terrifying if not for the fact that it is clearly rank superstition.

"Civilization's the way you're goin' if you can call the Hamlet civilization. Just keep following this here path and you'll get there eventually. All the roads in this damned forest lead to the Hamlet," the woman explains.

Useful advice. Talk of your dead traveling companion seems to have loosed her lips. Perhaps she could be pressed for more information? Or would it be best to be on your way?

What do you do?

Hector

You cautiously inch closer to the malformed abomination and as you draw near it lifts one of its more complete heads toward you, ears twitching. Words begin flowing from its antlers like rain, spattering against the moldy leaf litter.

Smell.
You.
Who.
There.

More heads rise, some whining. Some growling. The same words repeat over and over again, a torrent of thought.

The horror knows that something is there. That you are there. But blind as it is, it can not see you. It hasn't attacked. Yet. And only three of its many mouths are snarling.

You could act. Cut the vines that grow into its flesh. You could speak. It will hear you. Or you could flee. This nightmare doesn't deserve your pity.

What do you do?

Carlie

No bats reply to your calls, sapient or otherwise.

The slithery sound, however, does.

There's a gasp, like someone trying to gulp air through a straw. The slithering draws closer. Round, bulging eyes shimmer in the dark. "Wearer of lies. *gasp!* Beholden to none. *gasp!* You do not belong- *gasp!* -in this place."

The slithering thing moves further into the light.

It pulls itself through the sand on limbs that might have once been human, now covered in rubbery green flesh with heavy webbing between the fingers. It has a head like a moray eel, its mouth flanked with four tiny crab-like legs. From the waste down it has an eel's tail and thick green kelp grows from its spine from head to tail. Two legs, atrophied and misshapen, drag uselessly in the sand. When it was curled up in the sand it appeared as little more than a pile of sea weed. What had at first appeared to be eyes prove to be paired concentric rings, each turning in opposite directions. The movements appear almost mechanical, like the gears in a watch.

The eel thing is also... pretty big. Probably twice Carlie's weight at least. It's needle-like teeth glisten in the low light.

Could you speak to it? Could you fight it? Could you flee from it?

What do you do?

Birdwatcher

You climb higher. But first?

A photograph of the talisman. A leather cord strung with beads of bone and soapstone. And one bead of glass. But a fancy glass bead. More akin to a bit of a broken bottle that had been ground against a rock and a hole carefully drilled through it. On the end dangles the crow's feather.

Then?

Then higher.

The shelf fungus are, thankfully, sturdy. Each grows about six feet across and three feet out. Plenty of space for climbing. And plenty of open air below to instill terror. The crow never strays far, always remaining a few meters away and cawing loudly any time you stop to catch your breath. Or pause to work up the nerve to step from one fungal foothold to another. Eventually, after many arduous minutes of climbing and avian heckling, you emerge into the crown of the forest. The woods stretch out in all directions as far as the eye can see save one. Not far to the west you can make out a wide, open area devoted to farms, windmills, a sprawling hamlet, and a foreboding castle high atop a crag overlooking the restless sea. In the sky above is absolutely blackness. No sun. No moon. No stars. Yet an eerie light permeates everything. In that eternal twilight, gazing into the bottomless abyss looming above you, you can just scarcely make out shapes stirring in the dark.

You are immediately struck with a sort of gnawing, primal terror. The indescribable fear that if you were to stare too long and too intently into that penultimate gulf of eternity you would find yourself tumbling head over heels into it, rejected by the very world itself. For those who crave the void the simple supplication of sight is sufficient.

Do not look at the sky.

Eyes turned to more earthly things, you spy your erstwhile companion now perched atop a hut, as if waiting patiently for you to escape your revery.

The hut is made of bones.

A jumble of bleached bones, lashed together with leather straps. A roof of beast hides sits over the top of it, a thin plume of smoke rising from a hole cut into it.

You are met with three choices. Now that you have a heading, you could descend to the forest floor and make for the hamlet in the distance. Or, you could knock on the door of bleached wooden planks that serve as a door for the hut. Or... you could give in to madness and turn your gaze heavenward until you are pluck from the face of the world itself.

What do you do?

[bc56]

Waylaid Tour - Dave

Dave bids the graverobber farewell and heads towards the hamlet she indicated. What a strange person she was. Hopefully there'll be a phone up ahead. His phone was in his hand when they crashed; it must have been flung away. He needs to call emergency services as soon as possible. There could be injured and dying people back at the bus. Unless the Thing got them. No, that's silly. It's just a superstition. There are no monsters lurking in these woods.

[5a Violista]

[Waylaid Tours]
Carlie

Carlie, who goes by Charlie to her friends (don't ask why, they just started doing it one day. She suspects it started as another joke, but it stuck) (and they're more coworkers than friends, anyway), decides that while this thing is scary...at least it talks.

'Wearer of lies'? Yeah, that's pretty much an apt description of her. Carlie assumes she knows what that 'beholden to none' line refers to: that she just does what she wants, right? So? But..."What do you mean, I don't belong here?" The 'bunnygirl' lowers the knife, to demonstrate they don't need to fight. "I mean, I don't even know the way out."

...However, so long as her shapeshifting works, she's never really unarmed. Actually, thanks to the pact(? it wasn't exactly a pact but more of...a gift based on friendship?) with that Thing in the Walls, even when her shapeshifting isn't working, she isn't completely unarmed. Even though she's not brandishing her knife, she does preppare herself for being bitten (and this is something she's done before recently, so it's easy for her to perform): she starts producing packets of neurotoxins throughout her skin in case of biting - and the antidote deeper in near her bones, in case they bite too deep and the poison starts to circulate in her own body.

She gets a good look at this...misshapen creature. How did it end up like this? she wonders. Presumably it was once a person, so something in this place must have transformed it. "And...is there something you need? I could help you." Even without the smell of fish, she's still feeling a little nauseated. She thought it was the bus ride, and then the rotting fish...but even being removed from those sources hasn't helped her recognize morning sickness for what it is yet.

She definitely is choosing talking with it, while secretly preparing in case it attacks.

[Rebonack]

[Waylaid Tour]
Dave

The woman doesn't seem too broken up about your departure. She has more important things to see to.

Like the burial of your fellow passenger.

No doubt she and her copper-sulfate filled (that's how you get a spooky green flame!) lantern are off to go bury the poor woman. Convenient that they landed in a huge graveyard.

And so you trek deeper into the forest.

The mushrooms grow larger, more pestilent. Spores hang thick in the air, a drifting miasma of mildew that makes your lungs itch. Whole trees have broken open, spilling out toadstools and... skeletons. Skeletons consumed by fungal rot. Mushrooms growing from sockets, mouths, and between ribs. Skeletons nearly buried in an avalanche of spongy toadstools. What few graves remain have been utterly consumed by creeping slime and decay. As you trek down the cobblestone road you soon come upon a carriage, overturned and with one of its wheels reduced to so many splinters. A strongbox lays on the ground near it, still closed. Sprawled on the road, likewise, are two corpses. One a once a knight in shining armor, armor now pitted with rust, mushrooms bulging from the seams. The second a highwayman, once a dashing rogue now a half-dissolved cadaver laying in a puddle of thick, putrid yellow slime. Their weapons lay on the ground. A long-sword, still serviceable. A revolve. And a wicked, serrated dagger. A banner is propped up against the ruined carriage, bearing the symbol of a three-pointed crown below a crescent with five rays piercing it, embroidered in gold. Somehow the symbol has resisted the ravages of time and rot.

You could investigate the interior of the coach. Or perhaps search the corpses. Or take their weapons. Or maybe try to unlock the strongbox.

Or?

You could simply ignore this site of tragedy and continue on your way.

What do you do?

Carlie

You decide to speak with the warped soul.

It tilts its head to the side, peering at you with one of those swirling wheels stuck in its skull in place of eyes.

"There is no help. *gasp!* This world is dead. *gasp!* We are but maggots- *gasp!* -wriggling in its corpse," the abomination replies. Each time it gasps it yawns its toothy maw open wide. That mouth is large enough to swallow your whole head with room to spare.

Then it slithers, moving with the speed of a striking serpent, coiling itself around you and yet maintaining a foot or so of space between its body and yours. An eel that, at least, somewhat respects personal space.

"The dreams do not- *gasp!* glisten on you. *gasp!* The heavens do not- *gasp!* -shine on you. *gasp!* The heart of the world- *gasp!* -does not beat in your breast. *gasp!* You are yet unclaimed. *gasp!* If you have no patron- *gasp!* -you will be devoured by this place."

Then?

It slithers away, down into the water, before turning and beckoning toward Carlie with one claw. It dips its head, filling its gills with brine.

"I can show you such wonders. The vistas and gulfs of Kosmos itself. Offer yourself. Accept the gift. Or face your doom alone."

That... sounds threatening.

You could turn and run, surely. Or accept the eel's bargain. Or maybe pretend to accept it, then stab it right in its gross slimy face.

What do you do?

[Reinholdt]

[Waylaid Tour]
Leah

You choose to follow the path of standing stones, carefully picking your way between the monoliths. Ethereal lights dance around you, budding off from the colour pools and drifting through the air. Peering close, you discover that they almost resemble tiny jellyfish, if a jellyfish were made of wheels within wheels. The stones are smooth and glossy with a dark forest green color to them. Should you touch one, you'll discover that they have a filmy, almost soapy smooth texture. Soapstone, likely. They've been carved, as soapstone often is. Carved with intricate intersection spirals. Colour flows from the center of the designs now and again, slowly oozing along the labyrinthine path and dripping to the ground upon reaching the edge.

As you press on you feel a jarring, lurching feeling quite suddenly as the forests abruptly shifts.

You're back in the clearing where you started again, having just stepped out of a colour pool oozing down the trunk of a tree. There are the same crystal growths. The same pools. The same bloated mushrooms. And, perhaps most disconcertingly, the same you.

You lay in the middle of the path, unconscious.

You know. Somehow. Beyond question. That didn't just loop back to where you started, you've looped back to when you started.

You could try awakening your past self, but you have no memory of such a thing happening. You could continue down the path of monoliths again, but would that simply return you to the clearing once more? Or you could try one of the other paths, a path of humidity and rot or a path of steadily strengthening song.

What do you do?

[Waylaid Tour]
Leah

What the...?

An unsanctioned time jump? Leah rolls her sleeve down to reveal a nondescript bracelet. Pressing at it with two fingers at particular intervals causes a holo-interface to pop out. With her fingers she scrolls through. Yeah. Right there. Undefined time jump. Cause... external? Wait, so it wasn't just her equipment malfunctioning? That's even worse!

Leah does a quick set of the current time as a grounding point. Hopefully that would cause any further undesired chronological movement to reset her to here without creating a third Leah. She glances at the sleeping one. While she's no stranger to talking to herself through timelines, because the nature of the jump was not intentional, it was possibly not stable either. Chronotons out of place was a terrible thing. And her sisters would never let her live it down if they had to come rescue her and patch an out of control paradox. Rebekah especially. Leah can just imagine her smug face now.

With no desire to return to the forest and unwilling to risk the standing stones again, Leah rolls back up her sleeve and hurries towards the only other choice, towards the gardens. This should keep this fraying timeline in place. At least for the moment.

[5a Violista]

[Waylaid Tour]
Carlie

As much as she hates her mother, HarleyCharlie still follows her advice to not accept open-ended deals with sketchy otherworldly beings. (The Thing in the Wall doesn't count: he's a friend.)
Plus, this whole fish-thing about its body? Maybe it's just that she can still taste a little of the fish-rotting air, or maybe it's just something metaphysical about fish she doesn't like, but the whole situation makes her shiver.

This thing can definitely move fast enough to catch her if she tries to run or attack it. It clearly demonstrated that fact when it coiled around her.

"You said yourself, I'm beholden to none," she says, trying to sound confident. Carlie finally figures out what it meant by that line - she's not affiliated in any of the three sides that are in conflict here. Dreams, heavens, and the world? If she picks one side, she'll definitely become a priority target of the other two. "You're right: I do what I want."

"But let me correct you on one thing: I don't get devoured. I do the devouring." The bunnygirl says that, but based on what was said, she feels a little out of her league here. But she also knows that if you don't act confident and strong, you'll just get devoured by those who know they're stronger than you.

On a related note, running only invites to be chased. Carlie knows how quick the creature can move, so she instead confidently walks away in the direction she was originally going...keeping an ear out for it to reapproach.

She changes her priorities, slightly: first, find Bruce or anyone else who's not part of this whole three-way war. Second, get out of here. Third, don't get involved.

[bc56]

Waylaid Tour - Dave

Compared to the graves, this looks promising. It's not like the dead guys will object to Dave going through their stuff. He starts with the revolver, picking it up and checking if it's clean, functional, and loaded. He grabs the knife too for good measure, but he doesn't know how to use any of these weapons, beyond what he's seen on TV. He pokes his head into the carriage. There could be something useful there, more equipment most likely. Anything perishable would be consumed by the mushrooms by now.

[Deathkeeper]

[Waylaid Tours- Hector]

Hectors steps back, prepared to flee. This beast won’t fit through the brambles if he has to run for it.
”I am no one important. But maybe I could be. Tell me what ails you, and perhaps I might help you if you help me in return.” he says quietly, still prepared to sprint in the other direction.

[Earl of Purple]

Waylaid Tours Birdwatcher

She's arrived at the top! And... There's a village! Well, that's generous. A hamlet, maybe. Possibly a thorpe. She glances at the sky to see if she can figure out the time, and... Wow. That feels like agoraphobia. Let's not do that... even if it's an addictive agoraphobia. So she could head down, or there's the... Hut. Made of bones. Interesting bones. She'll snap a photograph of it- the camera's digital; she'll run out of battery before she has to worry about space. Then she walks up and knocks on the door, timidly at first then a bit stronger. Whilst she waits for the door to be answered (or to feel confident there's nobody home) she'll take a photo of the sky above her head, possibly more than one. OK, maybe about ten.

Nightmare Forest

"We seek the answers to some questions. Who created this forest, and how. What happened to the people who were here before it. And if they'll try again." Other questions, too, like how to destroy the forest, and stop it from happening again, but Makuro thinks those aren't good questions to ask a river serpent made of scuttling stones. Even if it is apparently incomplete and weak.

[Ionbound]

[Waylaid Tour - Gwyn]

Gwyn chokes and covers her mouth as she proceeds down the corridor towards the chamber. Once there she quietly observes the fight for a few moments before slipping around the edges of the room towards the corridor with the glowey fungus; If there's one thing living life as an adventurer has taught Gwyn, it's that meat growing where it shouldn't be growing is a bad thing. Of course, considering the shiny ball of light, the things fighting might just notice Gwyn anyways, despite her best efforts.

[Zefir]

[A meeting place]

"Ah, you've looked into me. I'm honored by the attention." The pumpkin seem to make a nod or a bow as it floats in the air, it's features animate enough to convey the feeling of an actual person talking through it. "However, I find it generally wise to leave preconceptions at home while in the nexus, don't you think? They're useful notions but here they all seem to have a little, but crucial, twist to them. Now, if you prefer a more godly display there are ways of summoning me. Though even then I don't think I can really live up to the traditional images your 'old school'ed self might associate to the divine." The pumpkins grin grow wide. "So let's put that aside for now and treat me as simply a lore broker. Nothing more, nothing less. This pumpkin is simply a disposable vessle used for communication, so let's get down to that through a simple question. What do you desire? Try to be specific, I'm not a genie." The pumpkin is grinning at him once more.

[A meeting place]

Arkant listens, but shows no signs of regret or other emotions.

"You are right. I just wanted to point it out since it appeared a bit... off. After all I can't be save to talk to the person I'm about to meet unless I got at least something to connect him with, right? Don't get me wrong, but this vessel you use is hardly something that could be connected to you. Fairytales, and economy have taken it and sold it to the mass. So you do understand my questioning."
He pauses. This happened to be harder then he thought but when do stuff get easy?
"For once I would like to know what your deal is with that person we met. And befor you answer that I think you might tell me your price, since I am not going into this blind. I think you know what i mean."

[Halae]

Bufopolis

"Hrm. Old Mayor was a jerk. Never did like 'im. Ah gots no pull yet. Ah c'n see why Ah'd be a runner for Mayor, though. We found 'Im when we came 'ere, long ago. My grandparent's time, Ah think. That pond beneath 'Is feet is clean drinkin' water. Dat's why we built our town 'ere. Our ancesters found 'Im by bathin' when dey was dirty. Normally, all 'E wants is people to bathe in de pool. We don't get no sickness, normally. Dis was an exception, not norm'l practice. 'Ard to say what ya should know 'bout 'Im. 'E's the pappa of dis 'un, an' tree of my udder kids. Not Billy. 'Is dad's me 'usb'nd. Mostly 'E likes de girls. An' de guys. Youngsters get more visions 'n bedder visions dan oldsters. Dey get pregn'nt more, too. De girls, not de guys. 'Ard to say what 'E wants, really." Mrs. Glubbholdt rocks her possible-toad-or-baby a little as she talks, and it seems likely it's a baby, though with a statue of a three-eyed toad as the alleged father, hard to say for sure. Particularly since the three-eyed toad's probably the grandfather, too.

[Bufopolis]

"Have you considered that it wasn't the Gulper punishing you for something when you all got sick?" Emily asks, "It could have just been that your village had gotten the flu. Sometimes it c an feel pretty terrible when it happens," Emily is gentle in her asking, but this is something she feels needs to be said, "You might have brought lupine wrath down on you for confirmation bias."

[Earl of Purple]

Bufopolis

"Flu don't give ya black lumps unner yer arms, nor do it kill yer fingers an' make dem all black and rotted. Dis weren't flu. Flu kills de old, de yung and de vunnrubble. Dis killed anyone. Killed me 'usband, it did. He de first to die. Drownin' de wolf 'elped, dose dat were sick recovered. Even 'elped 'eal dere fingers." So not the flu, then. Emily might recognise the symptoms as Black Death. Or not; depends on her medical history knowledge.

[Halae]

[Bufopolis]

Emily blinks owlishly, her large orange eyes slowly opening and then closing. Now that isn't what she'd been expecting - the bubonic plague isn't exactly a normal thing, particularly since it seems isolated to the village here, "I... I apologize, I didn't realize it had been that bad," The Gulper definitely looks out for his people, then, so not exclusively a dark god. Still, if that's the sort of thing that requires human sacrifice... "I'll... refrain from commenting more, I think. I don't want to make more of a fool of myself than I already have."

[Rebonack]

[Waylaid Tour]
Leah

Given pause by the sight of your past self and worried that walking between the stones again may cause a third loop in your timeline, you turn and press deeper into the garden. The colour pools quickly increase in both number and size, the strange conical crystals protruding from them at impossible angles. They constantly form and unform. Some melting into pools while at the same time new spiraling or helical crystals rise. It's impossible to say what color they are. Not because they're some impossible color from beyond space and time, but because their color is... indeterminate. Almost a haze of color. A wild clashing of color. Yet the color does not change per say. It is merely poorly defined.

Should you feel so inclined or able with your equipment, it becomes clear quickly that both time and space are badly warped here.

With every step the pounding music in your head grows more forceful, the strobbing lights stinging your eyes. Crystal growth completely covers trees and stones and mushrooms and anything else one might find along the garden path. But that's hardly the strangest thing you will discover. Oh no. Very quickly you discover something far, far worse.

Frozen in a moment of recoiling in horror, arms raised to shield the face, stands a statue. It is colorless. As if all the color had been drained from it until all that remained was a deathly, ashen grey. Here and there it is broken, colour ooze out of the rifts and pits. Crystals growing from the fissures. They've been hollowed out like a geode with little more than a thin crust remaining. They look so fragile, as if a mere touch could send them crumbling into a heap of ashes and alien light.

A nauseating feeling rolls over you as you recognize that statue's tail. And ears. And clothing. Everything about them is quite familiar.

Because you found yourself.

Again.

You could turn back-

No.

You can't.

The crystal growth has sealed the path behind you. It has been sealing the path behind you with every step.

You could destroy the abominable thing. Maybe it's some kind of trick? There are two paths forward as well. A fork in the road. One marked with more ruined statues. One where the pools of color have completely overtaken the path.

What do you do?

Carlie

The eel thing doesn't reply.

It merely sinks into the water out of sight.

Apparently it thinks that if you are unwilling to take a side you'll just be meat for some other horror. But, it would seem, it doesn't hold any malice toward you.

And... that's good?

You stride further into the sandy tunnel, weaving your way between the standing stones. Gold glitters in the low light. It isn't long before you come to another chamber within the cavern, a chamber with a grotesque idol of green soap stone squatting in the middle of it. Some terrible thing that's half human and half octopus and half dragon, staring down at you with six baleful eyes. It sits right at the junction between to paths, one giving way to a set of slick basalt stairs. THe walls along either side of the stairs are... suspect. The stone is full of holes.

And skittering sounds.

The second path continues its gentle uphill slope, still carpeted with a layer of white sand and decorated with standing stones much like the path you've been walking thus far. In the distance you can see the flicker of firelight and hear low chanting.

You could, perhaps, examine the idol. Or ascend the stairs. Or investigate the chanting.

What do you do?

Dave

The revolver looks quite serviceable. It doesn't even have any missing ammunition! Maybe these poor fools died when the carriage crashed? There isn't any sign of struggle. Or even external injuries. Almost as if they had just died on the spot and were devoured by rot.

As you move toward the carriage you hear a... slurping sound. A squelching noise. A phlegmmy, runny wheeze.

And should you turn?

You'll find that the rogue devoured by slime has risen to his feet. Streamers of yellow muck cover his corpse like the strings of a puppet, pulsing. He begins lurching toward you.

You could attack, perhaps. Or flee down the road. Or maybe even use the carriage as cover since this ambulatory corpse isn't moving swiftly.

What do you do?

Hector

The horror shakes itself, words flying from its antlers and spattering all over trees and path and mushrooms and-

You.

If you aren't careful.

Avoiding them would be simple enough, though, since you stepped back already.

A torrent of words splashing against the world.

"Hungry.Hurt.Eyes.Gone.Everything.Hurts.So.Hungry. Pain.Stops.When.Another.Joins.Pack."

There comes a ripping sound as the horror strains against the roots sticking out of its fur. The rotting earth gives way as it rises to its multitude of misshapen feet, fungal vines still binding it to the ground. The roots pull free in a branching fractal, a shape that makes your mind itch.

It will be free.

Very soon.

And it sounds as if it wishes for you to their pack.

Do you flee?

Surely you will.

But to where?

You could try running around the horror, but with so many vines sticking out of the ground you may stumble. And if you stumble, you're certain that your face will be another antler-eyed wolf's head sticking out of the abomination.

Or you could flee back the way you came? All the way back to the first clearing? Choose another path?

Or maybe you could ask for help at the unnerving hut?

What do you do?

Birdwatcher

You knock on the door.

The crow caws at you.

Loudly.

Dozens of other caws answer.

Looking around, you can see that what first appeared to be black leaves in the surrounding trees were in fact crows. Hundreds upon thousands of crows. Crows gathered to the great feast of Armageddon, where they will feats upon the flesh of gods and saints and nightmares.

The door opens of its own accord.

"A visitor?" croaks a voice in the back of the hut. You can scarcely make out the figure seated there. A chair. A robe. Crow feathers sticking out here and there. There's something... strange about their voice. But you can't quite make out the source of the strangeness. A man? A woman? Young? Old? You can't really tell. "How long has it been since we've had a visitor with human flesh on her bones? Hm? Ehehe... don't be shy, now, skulking in the doorway. Come in. Sit down. Get some warmth back in your toes around my hearth."

A dozen crows take flight from a nearby tree and alight in the branches a few feet from you, cawing loudly.

You could obey the voice and step into the hut.

Or you could try speaking to them from outside.

Or you could turn and flee back the way you came.

What do you do?

Gwyn

You are about half way across the room when one of the ghuls notices you and seems to be puzzled by your presence in the tunnels.

The distraction is immediately capitalized upon by the horror, which immediately smashes two bear-claws growing from the same limb into the creature and eviscerates it in a single stroke. All that's left is a heap of organs, a few broken bones, and some hair.

Blinded by fury, the remaining ghul stabs at the horror again, carving a great rent across the thing with its spear.

"What are you doing standing there gawking?" the ghoul shouts at you, narrowly ducking under the horror's counter-attack. "HELP!"

"Worm. Abomination. Gnawing at reality's foundation. You are a lie," comes a half dozen shockingly beautiful, feminine voices in perfect harmony from the manbearpig. "Child of flesh. Aid me in ridding the world of this defiler."

Oh. Uh... Apparently the horrible monster is not only sapient but also coherent?

You could help the ghul. Or the horror. Or you could let them continue trying to kill each other and bolt for the tunnel. But whichever thing survives probably won't be happy with you...

What do you do?

[Deathkeeper]

Waylaid Tours- Hector

Hector does not waste time. He turns and sprints away.
”That’s quite alright, have a nice day!” he calls as he sprints down the path and past the house, away from the horror. He doesn’t know how fast or agile it is, so he dared not try to run down the path past it. And he dare not ask for help at the treehouse, for he could not fit in the door and has no guarantee of a timely answer. Nor could be climb the tree and be sure he would not be followed. He must run. Running is at least something he knows how to do. His legs and his heart have always been strong.
That only leaves him to run as far and as fast as he can.
The swamp path will do him no good. Marshy ground will slow him down. He will be easy prey. The brambles, then. The horror will never fit in that tight space. Perhaps it will even be tangled up again as the vines did.
So Hector runs for the tight, prickly path, in the hope that it will protect him from the horror more than it will slice him to pieces itself.

[bc56]

Waylaid Tour - Dave

Dave realizes that the rogue wasn't so dead as he appeared. He seems to have camouflaged himself using that slime and lain in wait for a trespasser. Dave responds by unsteadily pointing the revolver at the walking corpse and firing, once, then twice. His aim is very unsteady, and the gun kicks in his hand so he nearly loses his grip on it.

[Rebonack]

[Waylaid Tours]
Hector

You run.

Because of course you run.

What could you hope to accomplish against a... a horror like that? Were each those wolf heads a different person? How many of them had there been... a dozen? Maybe more?

Nothing. Nothing but being slain or worse.

So you run.

Back past the hut. Down the zigzagging trail. Back to the burning tire that had landed near you. And then?

Into the thicket.

You have to duck just a little to fit in. And every now and again a briar will catch at your coat. But you're doing fine. You're making good speed through the underbrush and the horror isn't-

You hear a howl.

A howl from a dozen mouths.

Thrashing. Ripping. But distant.

It must have tracked your smell. It's following you. But you have a good head start, right? And that thing was huge. It'll have difficulty getting through the brambles and you'll just slip out the other end and-

-you come to a dead end. With a dead body laying there, pierced by the thorns.

The brambles here look... strange. Like the shadows on them are too deep. Or the contrast is too high. It's difficult to describe. The corpse looks like... a dog? Maybe? If the dog were the size of a bear. Its fur looks almost wispy and immaterial. Its head from the ears forward is nothing more than a skull and chains are lashed about it. Like the carcass in the clearing it has been splayed open, but there's still quite a bit of meat left on it. Including... it's heart. A heart that looks like little more than an oily mass of darkness, little streamers of shadow wafting away from it.

It will kill you.

The carcass seems to say.

The horror will kill you like it killed me.

The words feel more insistent now. Stronger than mere impressions.

Eat my heart. We can destroy it together.

It seems as though you can not escape from creepy canines.

Your options are starkly limited. Do as the feelings suggest. Stay where you are and await your doom. Or try to find some other way out.

The horror grows swiftly closer.

What do you do?

Dave

You fire the pistol!

It's loud.

Very loud.

Like an explosion right next to your face that leaves you ears ringing.

The first shot splats into the shambling corpse, staggering it. The second goes whizzing off into the canopy as your aim is thrown off by the kick. Maybe only shoot one bullet at a time? That's two rounds down. Four remain.

As for the former rogue, it keeps coming, lurching at you with its arms stretched out! The corpse is clumsy and slow. You could easily dodge behind the carriage. Or perhaps kick it away. Or back-peddle away from its grasp and into the thick beds of fungus lining the road.

What do you do?

[bc56]

Waylaid Tours -Dave

Wow. That guy is persistent. Dave backpedals away from the rogue's grasp, steadies the revolver again and fires. This should bring him down. No way will he be able to survive having two bullets in him for long.

The fact that he's fighting a zombie seems to have completely gone over his head. There are no such things as zombies, after all.

[Deathkeeper]

[Waylaid Tours- Hector]

Hector panics. He steps forward and attempts to rip the black mass from the corpse. Perhaps if it was a real heart he would have hesitated longer than a moment. Somehow this strange, wrong thing is more palatable than touching a perfectly normal, bleeding organ. Funny how that is.
And yet, he cannot be expected to simply swallow it, is he? He looks around frantically, dumbly holding on tightly to the shadowy core. It can’t be just a dead end. There has to be somewhere to hide. Somewhere to go.
Or else he has to figure out how to swallow a shadow.
And after several seconds of finding absolutely nothing that can help him and only a few left before his incoming demise, that’s just what he finds himself trying to do.

[Rebonack]

[Waylaid Tours]
Hector

You see nothing new. Brambles to one side. Brambles to another. Strangely monochromatic brambles with too-deep shadows blocking the path. And of course the carcass you just ripped the heart from.

Certain that you have no other choices beyond being savaged by the wolf-mass you bite down into the heart.

It explodes into your mouth, sticky, metallic, and cold. It runs down your throat like rancid custard, causing your stomach to convulse. In spite of it you fight it down. Then take another bite. And another. And another. Until it's gone. As you chews and swallows the last of the heart you feel something looming over you. The carcass of the black dog. And then all at once it falls upon you and has vanished. Then you feel a weight upon your neck. Upon your wrists and your ankles. Bronze manacles trailing bronze chains. Shadows roil around you, taking on the vague silhouette of a of a canine form superimposed around you.

In your presence shadows twitch.

The briars behind you aren't real. Sweep them away, then replace them behind you.

It isn't... a voice. Not quite. More an impression. An idea that intruded into your mind.

The crashing and howling of the horror grows swiftly closer. You have only moments to act. Manipulating darkness feels almost second nature to you now. There are so many things you could do with it!

Maybe to fight back against the horror. Maybe to block its path. Maybe to clear away the illusionary wall of thorns behind you.

What do you do?

[Deathkeeper]

[Waylaid Tours- Hector]

Hector decides that despite his newfound powers, fighting that horror still doesn’t want to fight the horror. After all, the wolf creature he...absorbed? Was killed all the same. Never fight something on its own terms. That’s a terrible way to hunt. He shakes his head. He doesn’t want to know where those thoughts come from. All he knows is that he’s getting advice from his shadow, and it seems like good enough advice.
Hector follows the shadow’s instructions, turning behind him and clearing away the shadows and thorns behind him. They are illusions, nothing more. He wishes he knew that before he did what he just did, but there’s no sense crying about it now. At least he is still him, and didn’t become the thing in his shadow like he almost thought would happen when he took that first bite. He only got its chains. Chains which he expects will make it very hard to sneak. He’ll have to wrap them up until he can get a smith to saw them off.
But clear the illusions he can do, and then move past where they were and cast the shadows back over the space to hide his escape. He should hopefully be able to escape the horror.
If these chains don’t rattle and give him away.

[Reinholdt]

[Waylaid Tour]
Leah

Given pause by the sight of your past self and worried that walking between the stones again may cause a third loop in your timeline, you turn and press deeper into the garden. The colour pools quickly increase in both number and size, the strange conical crystals protruding from them at impossible angles. They constantly form and unform. Some melting into pools while at the same time new spiraling or helical crystals rise. It's impossible to say what color they are. Not because they're some impossible color from beyond space and time, but because their color is... indeterminate. Almost a haze of color. A wild clashing of color. Yet the color does not change per say. It is merely poorly defined.

Should you feel so inclined or able with your equipment, it becomes clear quickly that both time and space are badly warped here.

With every step the pounding music in your head grows more forceful, the strobbing lights stinging your eyes. Crystal growth completely covers trees and stones and mushrooms and anything else one might find along the garden path. But that's hardly the strangest thing you will discover. Oh no. Very quickly you discover something far, far worse.

Frozen in a moment of recoiling in horror, arms raised to shield the face, stands a statue. It is colorless. As if all the color had been drained from it until all that remained was a deathly, ashen grey. Here and there it is broken, colour ooze out of the rifts and pits. Crystals growing from the fissures. They've been hollowed out like a geode with little more than a thin crust remaining. They look so fragile, as if a mere touch could send them crumbling into a heap of ashes and alien light.

A nauseating feeling rolls over you as you recognize that statue's tail. And ears. And clothing. Everything about them is quite familiar.

Because you found yourself.

Again.

You could turn back-

No.

You can't.

The crystal growth has sealed the path behind you. It has been sealing the path behind you with every step.

You could destroy the abominable thing. Maybe it's some kind of trick? There are two paths forward as well. A fork in the road. One marked with more ruined statues. One where the pools of color have completely overtaken the path.

What do you do?

[Waylaid Tour]
Leah

Leah's horror grows to the point where she turns to run, to choose the forest over this, only to find her choice cut off, removed. She backs up and bumps into the statue, forced to turn and look at it. At her. One of several.

So then the Leah she left behind was in a loop. She gave up the chance to break it, so now that Leah always goes towards the stones and always makes a fresh Leah who always goes to the gardens, drawn inexorably by thAT DARN MUSIC. Leah screams a little at the sounds in her head.

But all these Leah's died. Their... color torn out of them, likely by those crystals. Malignant? Or simply scavengers? Looking back, they were following her, chasing her, or leading her and she wasn't sure which.

The obvious choice was to not go down the statue path because all the Leah's of the other pasts were there. But given the distorting nature of this place, what if they all went down the path of the pools of color and ended up on the other path through no fault of their own, meaning they should have gone down the statue path. Leah, being herself, clearly has come to the same conclusion every time. She should have left a note, some kind of clue, as to which route she's taken. But looking around she sees no such clue. She should leave one for another future self, but how would that help her stay alive?

There was another option. Perhaps she could ask herself what happened. Commune with the statues. They were dangerously close to crumbling, but still had some vestige of what last happened. It was certainly not something she had done much of before, but as an Earthbender, maybe... Just maybe...

But what if that's what all the previous Leahs had done? Perhaps simply communing with the minerals around her was too dangerous. Had talking to her own statues infected her with that color draining crystal? Did she try to talk directly with the crystal itself?

But she had to try. Had to trust herself. Had to trust in rock. The stubborn time traveling catgirl sister Earthbender steps forward to put her hand on the statue of herself, close her eyes and try to commune with it. To ask herself what happened.