The Darkwood [Survival Horror]

[Ghostwire]

Spoiler: Darkwood Cabin

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Darkwood Cabin
Time: Unknown (Day)

The clearing appears to be the only open space within the forest that surrounds you. All around the edges of the area the dark trees loom up like a foreboding wall of dense foliage. The canopy above extends well into the clearing, blocking out most of the dim, gray sunlight and leaving the clearing ina perpetual state of gloom. The ground, while free of trees, is not clear. Large tangles of thick, dark roots erupt from the earth, and a carpet of dark moss and dead leaves cover everything. Here and there patches of orange and red mushrooms cling to roots and rocks like festering boils looking wet and oily. Thickets of bramble vines twist in clumps all over the clearing, spreading tendrils of razor sharp thorns across the ground.

Near the center of the clearing stands what must have once been a cottage. Small and mostly square, the wooden walls so obvious signs of neglect and deterioration, with a few large holes where the structure has collapsed entirely. The daark roots and brambles seem to have reclaimed much of the building as well as the wooden fence that once surrounded it. Near the back of the ruined cottage is the crumbling field stone basin of what was once a well. The wooden crank and bucket are gone, and dark moss creeps over the stones.

The air here holds a chill like early autumn and smells of damp and rot. No birds sing in the trees, and there is no sign or sound of life, save the occasional rustle of dry leaves and the distant, far off howl of something hunting...

Spoiler: Darkwood Field

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Darkwood Field
Time: Unknown (Day)

The field you emerge onto is large, but not so vast you can’t make out the other side. All around the edges of the field the forest looms upp in a dense wall of dark trees, and the canopy above does it’s best to block out the sky and the dull, gray sunlight that barely penetrates the clouds. The air is crisp like early autumn, and dry leaves blanket much of the open ground round you. Twisting, dark roots erupt from the soil and crawl across the ground like hungry tendrils, and patches of oily red and orange mushrooms grow along the wood.

A large portion of the field you find yourself in appears to have been farmland at some point, and the signs of tilled earth remain within the boarder of a crumbling stone wall now crumbling in on itself. Dark moss now creeps over the stones like a disease. The field within the wall is very obviously neglected and long gone to seed. However, there are still semi-structured rows of seven foot tall corn stalks that appear brown and dry, rattling like bones in the breeze. Any vegetables they may have provided are brown and falling from the stalks, no longer fit for eating.

On the far side of the neglected farmland stands the ruins of an old barn. Two stories tall, with wooden walls that show obvious signs of rot, the building looks long abandoned. There are holes in the roof and walls, and the large double doors stand open, one hanging from the hinges. Moldy hay is strewn across the ground near the bar, and a few rusted, ruined farm tools lay about as if dropped.

Spoiler: Darkwood Lake

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Darkwood Lake
Time: Unknown (Day)

The mists continue to swirl around your feet even as you emerge into a clearing. The air here is cold like early autumn, and dry leaves blanket the ground. Dark tangles of roots erupt from the soil all over the area to spread like the strands of some demonic web, and patches of oily red and orange mushrooms are prevalent in every nook and cranny. All around the clearing the woods loom like a wall of desne foliage, and the canopy above stretches dark branches and leaves out as if attempting to block out the already pale grey light of the cloud covered sun.

The center of the clearing is dominated by a large, still lake that stretches at least sixty feet across, it’s surface glassy and disrupted only by a blanket of floating leaves. All along the shore of the lake grow tall clumps of reeds and cat tails, all brown and rattling in the breeze. There are no calls of birds here, nor the sounds of frogs or splash of fish you might expect from a forest lake. Only a silence that cuts like a knife through your ears.

On the shore of the lake a few dozen yards from you stands what appears to be an old, dilapidated boat house. Made of wood, it shows obvious signs of rot and decay, the walls display large holes and door long collapsed from it’s hinges and laying in the grass. A dock of equally rotting and ruined wood stretches ten feet out into the water, and an old, worn out row boat bobs in the water, secured to the dock by a length of frayed rope.

Spoiler: Darkwood Camp

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Darkwood Camp
Time: Unknown (Day)

Emerging from the mists you step into a small, narrow clearing. All around the forest looms up like a wall of dark wood and dense foliage, and the canopy stretches across the clearing to block out the dim, pale light of the cloud covered sun. The ground here is rocky, and tangles of drk roots erupt from the soil to spread tendrils across the ground. In every nook and cranny grow patches of red and orange mushrooms that glisten with an oily wetness. The air smells of damp and rot, and holds the chill of early autumn.

The clearing is roughly twelve feet long and only a few paces wide, and it is dominated by a pair of canvas tents that look as if they were abandoned here long ago. They are stained with dirt, and dark moss creeps up their sides like a disease. There are holes in the canvas, and there appears to be nothing in them but more dirt and moss. Between the tents is a shallow pit dug into the hollow of a root tangle and surrounded by small rocks. It is filled with cold ash and charcoal from a wood fire, and a pair of logs rest near the pit, apparently once used as stools.

[WindStruck]

Spoiler: Rachel Benson

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At some point in Rachel's trek through impossibly-thick fog, she had wondered if she was actually dreaming, or if she had died. Pinching herself a bit and thinking about how she was thinking about dreaming, she decided.. well, it probably wasn't that. Maybe not dead either. For the life of her (no pun intended) she couldn't recall anything after letting her dog out which would have caused this either. It was all so fluid, a vivid memory still in her mind. She was sure there weren't gaps in her memory. But what bothered her the most was not just the strange texture of the ground, but the fact that there were no trees within an arms grasp for.. a long time. Where the heck was she?? The chill of the mist against her exposed skin was almost overpowering, and she stopped reaching out trying to grasp at anything, hugging herself and shivering.

The next thing she knew, she was in some kind of clearing with an abandoned, dilapidated cottage. And upon turning around, there were thick woods everywhere.

What?? How did I not touch any of that with my hands, let alone not walk into it??

The time seemed different, too. It was hard to say exactly what was illuminating the sky with all the clouds, but it definitely did not appear to be night... Still looking behind herself, Rachel takes a step forward, only to immediately trip upon knots of twisting root which she had not expected. Barely catching herself in a heart-attack-inducing panic, she comes to the realization that now the ground is no longer what she experienced mere moments ago. It is mostly solid, earthy.. and treacherous. Taking a more careful look at the ground, now, Rachel sees the roots, the leaves, the mushrooms and more importantly, the razor-sharp brambles. Definitely not a good thing when you are barefoot.

Well, now what? Rachel thought, shivering again in the chilly, damp air that smelled of rot. She needed to find out where she was or.. no, scratch that. She just needed to find a sign of civilization and get help as soon as possible. But this hut that was covered in roots and thorns and looked like it was about to collapse in on itself any minute? That wasn't the kind of civilization she needed. Whoever lived there was apparently long gone.

Now let's see.. there had to have been some kind of strange mistake or.. maybe a hallucination, somehow? Maybe if she just turned around, about in the direction she thought she came from, and traveled in a straight line, she would eventually get to something. A road, power lines, a body of water, some other kind of landmark? Or if she was luckier, a building or another person, as embarrassing as that may be. Yeah, that sounded about right. She could swear she heard that as part of a wilderness safety thing.. or maybe she just heard it in a movie...

Turning around, Rachel made her way to the edge of the clearing, cautious to avoid tripping over roots or stepping on thorns. Once touching the border of trees, she tries to find some kind of gap in the wall that she can slowly and carefully push through...

Ugh, this makes no sense, but this has to be the way that I came... Right...?

[Ghostwire]

Spoiler: Rachel Benson

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Pushing past the trees and into the heavy undergrowth of the forest isn't easy. Twigs and brambles poke and tear at you as you try to get through, leaving shallow scratches and cut on your unprotected skin. The forest floor is rough, covered in root tangles and rocks, and your bare feet feel every sharp point. Your toes catch in unexpected hollows, and more than once you stumble as the dry leaves give way to unseen shallow holes and ruts that threaten to turn an ankle or knee. You walk for several minutes, but there doesn't appear to be any change to the wood around you. Nothing that would indicate you are making progress other than your own sense of moving forward.

After maybe ten minutes of wandering, you begin to hear sounds around you. Snapping branches, rustling leaves. This quickly turns to what you can only assume are footfalls, or are they paws? Claws maybe? There is breathing, or is it panting? A growl? Was that a shape or a shadow at the corner of your vision? Is there one or many? Does the air feel colder?

There is a presence on your mind. The Will is watching. Roll your Luck

[WindStruck]

Spoiler: Rachel Benson

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It was very tough going through those woods. Nothing like the spongey, perhaps literal cakewalk she experienced before.

Every time a twig or thorn poked or cut Rachel, her body flinched, attempting to mitigate the damage. The malicious foliage even picked at, caught, and began to tear at her undergarments. What scant protection she did have was eroding away. She found herself more slowly and carefully trying to reach out, detecting and avoiding the sharp plants as much as possible, clumsily and almost futility attempting to move what sharp objects she could out of her way.

As her feet stepped on more and more unpleasant surfaces, her toes kept catching in hollows, and the ground treacherously began giving way, Rachel found herself slowing down to a crawl. Maybe even slower than that, as she painstakingly attempted to navigate forward without bringing more harm to herself, carefully feeling many times if it was safe to put her full weight on her feet. The only saving grace was that because she had no light with her, her eyes got accustomed to the oppressive darkness, deep under the canopy. But this was a meager benefit, if at all. Visibility was still terrible.

It really didn't make sense anymore, what she was doing, but she kept plodding forward because, well, she really didn't want to go back either. After a while, however, this is when the strange noises started. It sounded like some kind of animal?

Rachel froze. If you don't move, they can't see you! she thought. But wait.. wasn't that from some other movie? Despite her best efforts to stay as still as a statue, the chill air had gotten colder. And if she was not already shivering in fear, she definitely was from the fetid, frigid air blowing against her skin like icy breath...

Luck: (1d20-1)[2]

[Ghostwire]

Spoiler: Rachel Benson

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SNAP!

A branch breaks very close to you, just off to the right. You look in time to see the bulk of a shadowed form fading back into the darkness of the forest. With the brief glance you got, it appeared huge, easily twice your height and broad as a truck. The sounds around you grow closer and more frequent. There is definitely something out there, several somethings and they are coming closer.

Then something emerges from the shadows of the trees. IT isn't the large shape you caught a glimpse of a moment ago. This is a dog, a mutt of some kind. It's fur it mangy and gray, stuck through with leaves and twigs and covered in dirt. One ear is missing, and a series of cuts mark the dog's muzzle. It growls deep in it's throat, crouch low as it stalks out of the trees. It is joined by another, then another, and another, and another!

In all a pack of six dogs form a semi-circle blocking your path further into the wood. They growl and bare yellowed fangs, drool dripping from partly open mouths. These are not the domestic pets you are accustomed to. These dogs are feral, wild and appear to be hungry. They stalk forward slowly, but steadily, all eyes focused on you. You have only a few seconds to act before they are on you.

A hesitant step backward gives you a sense that going back the way you just came would be easier than going forward was.

The Will is watching. Roll your luck.

[WindStruck]

Spoiler: Rachel Benson

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Oh god! I am so dead! Rachel thought as the feral dogs slowly closed in.

Fear was overtaking her, even panic, as she had no idea what do. No means to defend herself, not even able to run due to this accursed forest. All she could do was continue stepping back, unconsciously, delaying the inevitable, staring at death wide-eyed in the face.

The forest was just as inhospitable as it was a few seconds ago, and not forgiving nor kind as she stepped backwards, unable to see where she was going or move things out of her way. Rachel's foot found a particularly painful, oddly-shaped rock. It was too late and her weight was already fully going down on it. Her ankle twisted painfully as she fell down, her butt landing next onto hard, twisting roots, her head slamming into a tree trunk, and thorns digging into her back and arms.

Rachel cried out in shock, but there it was: the rock she tripped over was no more than a couple feet from her fingers.

Luck: (1d20-1)[17]

[Ghostwire]

Spoiler: Rachel Benson

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The rock is there. It would be easy to grab and throw, but you would only get one shot, and there are six dogs stlking toward you, ready to devour you.

Just as it seems death is inevitable, a thunderous roar sounds from somewhere in the wood. It is loud enough to shakes the leaves on the trees and forces you to cover your ears as your teeth rattle in your head. The dogs stop, heads snapping up and ears shifting. Without another look at you they turn and run back into the forest as quickly as they had appeared, leaving you injured and scared on the forest floor, but still alive. However, you are not safe. A primal part of you knows this. Knows that if you don't move quickly, now, whatever frightened off the dogs is going to find you, and your luck will not hold forever.

Scrambling on hands and knees, ankle throbbing with each jarring movement and leaving a trail of blood from the countless scratches and cuts on your hands and knees. It feels like less than a minute of frantic crawling and you find yourself back in the clearing with the ruined cabin. You know, logically, that you couldn't have covered the same distance you walked, but here you are, back where you began.

The Will has moved on. You are free to act.

[WindStruck]

Spoiler: Rachel Benson

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Rachel would have sighed with relief if she wasn't in so much pain right now. And also, she wasn't even entirely sure if she was safe, even now. Surely those dogs or that thing could find her here, too? Though maybe, a part of her told her no. Not right yet, anyway. With her breathing and heart rate finally slowing down, somewhat, her hands trembled terribly as she (literally) painstakingly tried to remove all the thorns and sharp things from her body she acquired as she made her bloody crawl back to this clearing. It stung so bad....

Finally, after what seemed like an hour, she thought she got all the prickly things out of her. Standing up briefly on one foot, she wobbled about dizzily and assessed herself. To her horror, she realized she was naked now. And filthy. Covered in dirt and scratches, and even leaves and twigs in her hair.. just like those dogs. Her hands and knees were particularly gruesome, coated with blood and caked with dirt, though thankfully, at least it seemed she had stopped bleeding for now.

She was tired, faint, and still hurting all over. She just wanted this all to end.. she needed rest. Remembering the well with the moss growing all over it, Rachel carefully made her way over, resting her bruised rump down on the soft moss and her back leaning against the moss of the well. Well. Maybe it wasn't really all that soft for moss, but compared to everything else she had encountered so far, it had might as well be fluffy pillows. She brought a knee (her good leg) up to her weary, rattled head, and rested her forehead against it. She had no idea what she was going to do, but for now, her body and her brain were demanding some kind of rest, and there was little else she could do aside from entering the forest again...

After a while, the stinging pain she experienced became somewhat of a dull normalcy, and she eventually drifted off into some kind of sleep.