[open quest] if you go down in the woods today... - Printable Version +- Beqanna (https://beqanna.com/forum) +-- Forum: Explore (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=1) +--- Forum: The Mythical (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=80) +---- Forum: Mountain (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=77) +---- Thread: [open quest] if you go down in the woods today... (/showthread.php?tid=30364) Pages:
1
2
|
||
if you go down in the woods today... - Jassal - 10-03-2021 His blazing eyes remain trained on the cauldron as his reflection turns instead to visions. Jack observes the spellbound equines don their costumes and he can’t help the shrill cackle of glee that comes bursting from his jagged, carved mouth. Wait a minute. Not one of them chose the three he made perfectly abundant. Not one vampire? Not a single ghost? And what, praytell, was wrong with a sexy glowing skeleton suit? Oh, but they’d rather be vermin and mediocre white men peddling INSURANCE. Well, so be it then.
A thin, wispy hand reaches for the lid to his pumpkin head and he pulls it aside with a moist fwop before plucking a handful of seeds from within his noggin. Jack replaces the orange plug and casts the seeds into his bubbling potion. Immediately, the concoction erupts into purple steam. Slowly, painfully, they become their costumes through and through: a mouse, a classically handsome man in a Superman leotard, a puppy, a mountie, Sexy Jake from State Farm, a child in a hood, another child with pigtails, some kind of teenage boy who will undoubtedly have many online friends, a 30 story tall monster from the cretaceous era who hassles people for money, a dirty man with scurvy, a possum, and a horse. He finds himself amused by the last one, truthfully. “You made your choice, you chose your fate. My monsters now all lie in wait. Escape the woods and cross the river, Avoid the things that make you shiver!” Their bodies are awkward and new, he knows, so he bestows each one with a gift, a little something to help them make their way through this first trial. Jack snorts and hacks and spits a gooey pumpkin-flavored loogie right into the cauldron that seems to calm it a bit. From the woods, a sort of cackling can be heard as witches mount their broomsticks, and spells are whispered through the trees. Trees groan and begin to flex their branches, testing their strength. Massive pumpkins bob and bounce in place despite the river’s vicious current. Jack, meanwhile, sips his cocoa and settles in to watch their efforts. The rules for round two are a bit tricker, now, so ask questions if you’re confused! 1. The gifts are as follows: @Rare is a giant mouse but she can shrink herself and return to normal twice. @Saffron can use super speed for a total of one minute, divided as he sees fit. @despoina may charm enemies with her puppy-dog eyes one time. @Anuya may summon a moose to fight for her one time, and she’s maple-scented. @Cyan gets the power of insurance, so if he’s mortally wounded, Jack has him covered. @Elliana has a basket of goodies that she may distract enemies with one time. @Llorona has super strength that she may use once. @sawbone can use his depressing lyrics to make enemies cry themselves to sleep once. @gaspard is a horse-sized plesiosaur who has both fins and four human legs sticking out of the bottom of him. The legs are very hairy. @Sintra has a magical jar of dirt that lets her become undead and therefore unable to die or feel damage for one minute. @Beechbone is a horse-sized possum who can play dead and hide things in her weird skin pouch. @Etojo may become a Trojan horse, of sorts, in that he can deploy a small squad of miniature people from his belly to help him fight twice. 2. Everyone’s normal traits/defects/abilities have now been taken from them. 3. End your post at the base of the mountain, facing either a cave or a path up the mountain itself. 4. No more than 1,500 words per reply. 5. This round will end on October 10th at 11:59 pm. Late replies will receive a penalty in the third round. RE: if you go down in the woods today... - despoina - 10-06-2021 DESPOINA I guess the sound of your voice in the aching will just have to do RE: if you go down in the woods today... - Saffron - 10-07-2021 He isn’t certain what he might have expected from this strange interlude, but whatever it was, it certainly isn’t getting transformed into an ungainly two-legged creature. At first he’s not sure what is happening. He knows only that his bones crack and shrink, pulling painfully into an upright position. His vision shifts, blurring until he can see only what is in front of him. He stumbles, whipping unsteadily around as he tries to figure out why he can’t see his wings or sides. Saffron nearly falls over as he tries to balance on two appendages rather than four, only managing to catch himself by grabbing a tree. He blinks as his front appendages snag on the rough bark, bending at all the wrong angles. Jerking back with a gasp, he stares at them in dawning horror. Which, of course, makes him topple over. With an audible oomph, he lands on his back, blinking up at the creaking, knobby branches overhead. As he lays there staring uncomprehendingly, the whispered prose begins the filter through the trees once more. He only half-listens as he tries to come to terms with what had just happened to him. It’s only when the branches begin to flex overhead and a cackle echoes through the trees that Saffron jerks into reality. A shudder races down his spine as he realizes that he would not be allowed to lay here forever. Clamoring clumsily to his feet, Saffron grips a nearby tree for support, testing his wobbly legs. He’s not sure how anything manages on two legs, but somehow he would have to figure it out. When a skeletal branch plucks at the perfectly coifed hair on his head, he flinches. It seems he would have to figure it out fast. Another creeping branch tugs sharply on his cloak, and with a yelp, Saffron blunders forward in a sudden blur. He doesn’t even realize how fast he’s going until he trips over a root and tumbles head over heel, limbs flailing and dirt spraying around him until he collapses into an ungainly heap against the trunk of a tree. The creaking around him sounds suspiciously like laughter as the offending root sinks slowly back into the earth. For a moment, he stares up, stunned. When the tree he’d collided with starts groaning ominously however, Saffron quickly scrambles to his feet. He ducks as a branch hurdles towards face, almost sprawling back across the earth before catching himself with a wince. He knows now he can go fast in this form, but experience makes him hesitate to do it again. Taking a few unsteady steps forward, he stays clear of the grumbling trees as best he can while taking in his surroundings. He’s well and truly ensconced in this creepy forest now. He had only run for about thirty seconds, but it seems his speed had carried him deep into the woods. As he makes another slow circle, he notices a faint glimmer through the trees. Narrowing his eyes, he takes a few cautious steps forward as he tries to work out what it is. Eventually he creeps close enough that he realizes it’s water. Sucking in a breath, Saffron tries to recall what the ghostly voice had said. Something about a river, he’s certain. He doesn’t make the mistake of racing towards it this time. Instead, he moves carefully, avoiding grasping branches and toe-stubbing roots. When he finally reaches the water, he frowns at it. It’s choppy and swift, the current unpleasantly strong. Despite that, pumpkins bob in a leisurely manner on the surface. How the heck is he supposed to cross this? Saffron is so distracted by the conundrum the river poses that he doesn’t notice the creature dipping swiftly overhead. He only glances up, startled, when it releases a loud cackle and swoops toward him. He ducks, the creature brushing over him with gleeful giggles. He jerks quickly around to find it had somehow pivoted in midair and is now banking directly towards him again. It’s face is terrifying, green skin covered in lumps, hair in tangled clumps beneath a ratty, pointed hat, two ungainly limbs clenched around a wooden stick with branches bristling from the back. With an alarmed shout, Saffron stumbles back, forgetting the river behind him. At least, until his foot slips on the steep bank and starts to fall, arms pinwheeling in a desperate and hopeless attempt to stop himself. The moment he splashes into the water, the vicious current drags him under. He doesn’t know how to swim in this form. Saffron thrashes helplessly, briefly surfacing only to be sucked immediately back under. When he surfaces again, he makes a desperate grab for a floating pumpkin. It bucks and bobs under his weight, but panic makes him hold tight. It’s only when the orange gourd settles that Saffron is finally able to start thinking again. Mentally, he kicks himself for forgetting his speed. Kicking his legs, he and the pumpkin zoom across the water. They crash against the bank, and Saffron quickly lets go of the vegetable in order to grab the reeds and heave himself onto the muddy bank. Dirt streaks his already filthy and torn costume, but he doesn’t notice. He is given no time to catch his breath however. Moments later, the witch is back, a menacing cackle echoing over the rushing water. Groaning, Saffron hobbles to his feet and takes off running with all the swiftness he can muster. Just as his speed is beginning to decline and his breath to come in pants however, he finds himself facing a sharp incline. There is a stitch in his side when he slows to a halt, breath heaving as he stares at the looming mountain. His eyes dart desperately sideways, and he notices a path leading up into the mountainous terrain. Then he notices a cave. He considers them both with a frown, but a quick glance in the direction he’d come from makes his decision for him. With those dastardly flying creatures patrolling the sky, he would much rather take his chances in the cave. Straightening resolutely, he starts towards the yawning maw. Saffron RE: if you go down in the woods today... - Anuya - 10-07-2021 Anuya
RE: if you go down in the woods today... - Etojo - 10-07-2021
RE: if you go down in the woods today... - Llorona - 10-08-2021 The spotted child’s scream has barely left her lips, the echo not yet faded, when her body begins to change. She doesn’t know if it started after or before, and with nothing else to do she keeps on screaming. Four legs fuse into two, her back bends weirdly and small appendages sprout again from her new shoulders. The faded yellow dress still clings to her but it is tight, so tight, and then her face flattens and she subconsciously brings her hands to her face in horror. ”I can’t see!” It is not entirely true, but the loss of her peripheral vision into a more focused one makes her jerk her head left and right to try and see what is happening. All around her, horses are turned into what she assumes were their costumes, though she frowns at the bay horse that - under loud protest - is walking into the forest. What on earth had he dressed as? The pain fades as quick as it had come, as if she had been struck by lightning again - nothing new there. She lies on the ground, disoriented as she tries to see and smell but finds that she has dulled senses in exchange for these suddenly sensitive appendages. When the rhyme reaches her ears - belatedly, only through Five repeating it kindly for her (again and again and again) - she realizes that she has to cross. Well, thankfully Llorona knows how to run, for she has done so most of her life. Too bad she only knows how to run on four legs. She contemplates this, truly distracted by the thought, but then the groaning and creaking of living wood alerts her to the branch-fingers reaching for her and she has no time to lose. She starts to run in the only way she knows how - on hands and feet. It is hurtful because the hands are so sensitive, and inefficient as well, but at least she stays mostly out of reach. Her red hair frequently gets caught however, and oftentimes she is yanked to the forest floor. But Llorona knows that to stand still is to be struck - no, to die here, but she doesn’t have time to think about it. It doesn’t take long for a witch to hit her with a spell. Green smoke explodes in her face and she lies on the floor, stunned, the roots of a tree grabbing her left stocking in an attempt to draw her to them, to bury her, eat her or otherwise bring her to her demise. She doesn’t care how they want her to die and really she shouldn’t; she cries and screams and when the stun-spell finally lets go, she yanks her foot free with a force she didn’t know she had. A loud snap tells her she broke it, or she broke the tree root? She couldn’t tell, but she continues on a limp. She knows she isn’t going to make it. Pumpkin heads and trees enclose her, and another witch knows to hit her with a purple spell. She deforms, or so she believes, for this spell is all in her head. Her limping foot and hands full of thorns and scratches seem to melt before her eyes, and she can only crawl, crawl, then roll and slither until somehow she makes it to the river. She slides into the cool water and welcomes death. But the river disagrees. It is here to challenge her, not to give her respite. Piranhas and crocodiles come to her and bite her ankles, so that she wakes with a start. Flailing wildly, she sort-of surfaces, catches hold of some broomstick dropped by a with, and floats to the other side, where the river meanders onto a sandy, no, bone-dusted shore. Eight is cackling again - or if it is not Eight, it may be one of those witches - the broomstick comes alive and smacks her backside until she moves. She crawls through the dust, coughing loudly, then makes it to a mountain. There is a cave and a path upward - caves had always been her hiding place when hiding from the lightning strikes, so she moves in that direction, still on hands and her one non-limping foot. RE: if you go down in the woods today... - Elliana - 10-09-2021 H er stomach flips and flops, a fish gasping for air, wide mouth, gaping, eyes rolling in the back of its head. She is only now all too aware how dark it was. In the middle of the night, in the dead of night, the evening gloom. She is frightened. Elliana is scared. Scared and yet intrigued. There is something lurching in her chest, a line casting a hook into that fish’s mouth and yanking in forward in a shriek of pain. She is resistant, standing there with a hook in her mouth ready for the sharp tug, and yet she flies forwards, flying limbs. And Elliana makes her way into the woods, singing: “And we all sit around the fire We feel a little warmer now.” Her body kicks and tumbles and rolls and twirls. “And we all sit around the fire We feel so much better now.” She spins and sa-shays, and cartwheels, and frolics. Until those steps become skips and those jitters are shaking hands, a goody basket suddenly grasped in her palm. Elliana has always been a little girl with wide eyes as if trying to take in the world in its entirety. And she stands as such as she halts in her trail. It is as if the sudden recognition of her body having morphed into something entirely different causes her to grow uncoordinated and imbalanced, in much the same way a cut doesn’t hurt until you see the blood. She crashes into the forest floor, the crunch of leaves rippling around her like the cracking of bones. The red hood slides down and onto her shoulders, revealing long blonde hair that quickly streams down her shoulders. Shakily, she places those strange two feet underneath herself and rises up on knocking knees and unsteady arms that reach out sideways to balance herself. An invisible tightrope springs in front of her as she walks carefully one foot and then the other. Eventually, she finds that steady skip as she throws that hood back over her head—least the wolf finds her. It is terrifying, exhilarating, chilling, and gratifying, this feeling in the woods. The girl with those devastatingly glass blue eyes. Strange things swoop down and close to her head and the girl ducks down, laughing. And whether those are giggles of enthrallment or terror, I will not tell you. Trick or treat. The tree branches, she had not imagined it, those arching branches reach towards her. She thinks for just a moment, let them take her, let them take her far, far away. To where Po fights gods, and where twin unicorns sit waiting for her with a rose to plant inside her chest. Let them reach into her chest and pull out her heart to make room to grow a garden. (Of dread.) (Of trepidation.) The rushing of a river is seemingly the only thing to back those shaking trees away from her. Blue eyes close with a sweeping blink of long lashes before opening once more to the scene before her. As a pumpkin bobs past her like a bouy of fear rather than one of hope, Elliana steps into the current because she is more her mother’s daughter than she would ever want to be. But it is not Elena that comes to Elliana in this moment—but her flower horse. “Elliana,” Po says to her in a whisper brushing the back of her mind. “Stay clear of the River, but should you come too close: flow, do not fight.” An enigma to the end, both too trusting and too apprehensive, that little girl lets go, shuts blue eyes. She raises an unfamiliar hand and pinches it against her nose, a strange action for the once equine, but one that feels right in the moment. That face is scrunched in an unattractive way, from fear? From concentration? She thinks she would rather be any where but here. Even at the top of the world. Elliana was raised on first a cliffside and then a castle, but dancing next to the edge of cliffs is where her heart will sing. So when the girl emerges from the river unscathed (teeth chattering, new skin bumpy with cold, and limbs shaking with ice) she looks to the mountain path and thinks of it not as a challenge— But just the dance partner she has been waiting for. She speaks like this. some are ghosts before they are dead. RE: if you go down in the woods today... - Sintra - 10-10-2021 Image by vakrai 978 words RE: if you go down in the woods today... - sawbone - 10-10-2021 For a few rapturous minutes, Sawbone and the other party-goers all remain as horses sucked into ill-fitting costumes. For those minutes, the colt hardly moves, only stamping his front hooves anxiously into the leaf-strewn earth. He swears he can feel the faintest smattering of pumpkin-scented liquid (he opens his mouth to get a taste), before the too-tight clothes suddenly feel much looser. Saw breathes a sigh of relief while taking a step forward, smiling softly down at his platform— Wait, where are his hooves? Then he blinks and he’s swinging fingers—fingers—up to his face. “I am a hostage to my own humanity,” he whispers, then blinks again, because those were definitely not the vulgar words he was trying to say. “I am a hostage to my own humanity,” he says again, but the simple what the fuck won’t come out. “There’s a story at the bottom of this bottle?” he says next, then sucks in a decidedly freaked out breath. It’s in the moments he takes to understand why his thoughts are repeating the words welcome to the black parade that the cackling of the witches registers in his ears. Sawbone looks up from his shaking, pale hands just in time to see a fully nude, broom-riding woman hurtling at his face. “The angel from my nightmare!” Saw screeches, then lurches into the mud and leaves and dirt. He flies into a rapid crawl, only hurling himself into a sprint when he’s certain the witch has passed. They close around him, though, he realizes. The echoing laughter isn’t the magic of one woman, but a plethora of them. They zip by as they cackle and call, leaving Saw to heave out breaths as he screams in fear, “You’re already the voice inside my head!” The teenager is not faster than enchanted brooms, unfortunately; and the earth scratches his hands and legs as he falls over an arching root. Those frightened orange eyes peer up through strands of pink and black hair, watching as he counts at least eight magic women. “It’s not a war—no, it’s not a rapture,” Saw squeaks out on labored breaths. “Hope dangles on a string,” he aches out, rolling to his side and curling into a ball. They close in, growing more excited as they realize their plaything has given up. Their cackles and rhymes begin to drive Saw mad. He thinks he is to die tonight, cold and stuck in some foreign, emotion-struck body. But those whispers and promises, the hissing and giggling of the gaggle of women—the effects are madness, crackling just beneath Saw’s skin. When the first drags of cruel fingers pass over the teenager’s arms, Saw launches upward, staring at the startled women with wide eyes. After two heaving, desperate breaths, he screams: “I chime in with a "Haven't you people ever heard of Closing the goddamn door?!" No, it's much better to face these kinds of things With a sense of poise and rationality I chime in, "Haven't you people ever heard of Closing the goddamn door?!" No, it's much better to face these kinds of things With a sense of Poise and rationality Again.” The women all look at each other, then look back at him as if they might start laughing. Then they all fall to the ground one by one, a chorus of snores following. Saw drinks in the breath of a war-hero, then turns around. At the treeline is the Mountain, and directly in front of him is a cave. He stares at it as he approaches it, triumphant. RE: if you go down in the woods today... - Beechbone - 10-10-2021 I think you are wearing part of my cothtume... The words barely leave her lips when something happens to the girl in front of her. The change is so startling that Beechbone does not even notice that she has changed, too. At a year old, she is used to the clicking and popping and the unexplained pain of growing. She snuffles softly, staringly at the stranger who has suddenly turned into an absolutely enormous mouse, and whose ears are definitely not part of her own costume. "Oh, my mistake, I'm sorry. Those are obviously your ears. And they're lovely round ears, they don't look costume-y at all." Her long whiskers tremble with the thought that she might have insulted the large mouse and she bunches her hand-paws nervously together, pressing them anxiously against the curve of her jaw. It's only when she does this that she feels how long and narrow it has become, how filled with needle-sharp teeth, and Beechbone, so used to being too large and too strong, finds herself to be another kind of monster, something that kills to eat, with a strange patchy coat and creepy clawy fingers and a long tail that curls like a snake around her. She grabs it up and hugs it close to her body then, on an impulse, she shoves it into the skin-pouch on her belly to hide it. FLEE! She turns, hissing, and trots away into the night, but she doesn't get far. It's just too awkward to run with her tail stuffed into her belly so the yearling soon stops and pulls it out again. In the distance she can hear the witches laughing and somewhere, there's a parrot screaming, but in the woods where she has stopped it is deathly silent, not even the dry leaves rustle on the ends of their bran-- Ooh, a piece of candy. Brightly wrapped in red cellophane, it shines mutely in the autumn starlight and she snatches it up as she did her tail before and shoves it into the recently vacated pouch. Nice. Being an opossum isn't that bad. An opossum? Is it an opossum or a opossum? The girl ponders the grammar of her new body idly, plucking more fallen candy from the ground. Where on earth did this all come-- Oh my god a full-size Snickers. It's fallen into the river, caught up on a couple of rocks forcing Beechbone to scurry across the gravelly banks to gain her prize. She looks across the river but it's deep and fast here and she does not feel confident in this body's ability to swim, but Jack had said they must cross the river and he seemed like he knew what he was talking about. The opossum shoves the snickers into her pouch (and also a pretty, smooth agate stone,) while her gaze runs up and down the wild banks. So much of the world dissolves into dimness, her vision is so poor, but not far upstream she sees lights and movement and so she heads for those signs of life. Perhaps someone there will help her? As the lights come into focus, she can see better what is happening. Torches cast their yellow light fitfully, belching tarry smoke into the air and a slew of the undead are crossing back and forth, slowly. On the opposite bank, a half-built pyramid is taking shape. On the near bank, muffled shouting coming from a larger group of them at the top of a pyre, screaming that turns bloody and dies back to a soft whine when one of the zombies lifts something small and wet and lays it in a box. This happens again and again and when they are finished there is not even any groaning anymore, and the wrapping begins. Beechbone frowns and hugs at the candy in her pouch possessively. They are not getting it back, that's for sure, but she does need to get across and their bridge is so convenient. How perfect is it that she is an opossum right now and can play dead? The large opossum stands up on its back legs and begins walking stiffly towards the bridge, its forelegs outflung. When it reaches the crossing the undead army begins to swarm around her, ready to grab up the intruder. Their Pharoah requires more mummified servants and mounts and women and food and... opossums? Why not? But Beechbone parts her wide, terrifying mouth, and with a dying groan that would do any normal-sized opossum proud, she begins chanting. "Imhotep," the undead around her shift, unsure. She says it again, "Imhotep." "Imhotep," one replies. "Imhotep," Beechbone says again and is answered by a legion of voices. "Imhotep. Imhotep. Imhotep. Imhotep." They cross the bridge slowly, chanting the name the whole way across, and when they've reached the other side, Beechbone slows until she's at the very back of the crowd, backing around the corner of the pyramid, her Imhoteps becoming a mere whisper and then nothing at all. When the crowd has passed, she darts back into the shadows, pausing between a pair of old elm trees to crunch up the red candy and peer at the dark trail meandering up the Mountain's side. Beechbone Imhotep. 871 |