WITH ROILING, EXOTIC TINTS THAT DON'T QUITE EXIST ANYMORE (OR WANT TO YET.) AND I'M WONDERING- WHY, WHAT THE
HELL'S
HELL'S
HELL'S
HELL'S
HELL'S HAPPENING HERE
?
IT'S STARTING TO SLINK, AND SLITHER GROSSLY, WITH TEMPTING, SILENT PROPOSITION. . .
A THRUST OF FATE,
INTO THE THORNS GRAPPLING THOSE DOORS AND WATCHING WRETCHED ME
SO AGGRESSIVELY; WRENCHING IT INTO PIECES FREE, WORKING FINGERS INSIDE A HEAD FAR TOO DUSTY (MINE,) MAKING ME PONDER SOFT WHAT'S HAPPENING, WHAT I'M DOING STANDING ENRAPTURED, AND STOCK STILL.
THE PLACE'S IRON HEAVY: A WHOLE TEMPTATION OF SLEEPY GANJA GREEN DECORATED BY SHAPES MYSTERIOUS, AND CURIOSITY. THE NATURE OF THE PRETTY LANDSCAPE REEKS ILL TO ME,
AND THE PLUMP, INVITING LABYRINTH'S ENTRANCE LOOKS AS PARASITIC MOUTHS WANTING DESPERATE TO FEAST, SNAGGLE-TOOTHED AND UTTERLY DANGEROUS. I DO NOT FEEL SAFE, NO, NOT AT ALL:
As you enter the maze, the world around you seem to dampen and grow darker, the tall hedges casting shadows from every direction as they seem to lean in towards you. The air cools the further you venture in, crystals of ice covering a few delicate leaves on the hedges, the ground hardened under hoof. Each breath of air you take is cold, and small puffs of frost are emitted with every exhale. From somewhere up ahead comes a high pitched cackle, disembodied in the mist.
Rounding the next corner will show a lone figure standing there, his skin as pale and thin as stone, tangled locks obscuring a good portion of his face. Across his body is draped the skin of some animal you don’t recognize, covering frail shoulders.
”Is it the relic of almighty Tempus you seek, Oz?” he asks, his voice youthful despite his aged appearance, carrying a lilt you cannot place into any of the Courts. You do not know how he knows your name, for he is a figure you have never seen before, and you can only wonder what more he knows about you. ”You will have to follow me to find it.” And with that, he turns and takes off further into the maze, ever leading you northwards. His speed belies his age, for he is constantly just ahead of you, sometimes disappearing into the dim but never venturing far. As he disappears around the next corner, you become aware of another creature lurking somewhere behind you, one of the many beasts to have make the maze its home.
@Oz you’ve found the Shaman! However he is not one to stay and chat, and has already taken off into the brambles. It is up to you to hunt him down or not, but be warned: the maze contains many hidden dangers and beasts lurking within it that you might just get caught up in!
Feel free to write in your own obstacles or beasts, or tag the Random Events account if you would like one given to you! You have until Wednesday, July 19th to get your next reply in, at which point the Shaman will again respond.
Happy writing!
To tag this account: @*'Random Events' without the asterisk.
Please be advised, tagging the Random Event account does not guarantee a response!
07-09-2017, 02:18 PM - This post was last modified: 07-09-2017, 02:22 PM by Random Events
THINGS FEEL OFF-KILTER AND THE LIGHT'S DOING WEIRD THINGS, NOW,
AND I'M NOT EVEN SURE WHAT I SHOULD BE LOOKING FOR ANYMORE,
BUT SIMON DOES AS SHAMAN SAYS, TOSSING HIS CROWN OF OILED HAIRS AND HARDENED BROW, PONDERING NONE TOO DEEPLY, AS EVEN AS THE MAZE TAKES HIM, AND COAGULATES THICK HIS SENSES AND SENSIBILITY TO SLUDGE.
HE FOLLOWS THAT STRANGE, SHIFTING, UNCERTAIN SHAPE INTO THE ABYSS AND WALKS INTO WONDERS AND MY, WHAT WEIRDNESSES!! MORE OR LESS NAKED, WIELDING NOTHING CLOSE TO ARMOR. PERHAPS A WEAPON? NAY, THOUGH MAYBE A METAPHORICAL CANE TO BEAT THE NEAREST HYDRA TO DEATH WITH, SHOULD SUCH AN OPPORTUNITY ARISE. WHAT THE HELL'S
WONDERING IF HE'S FALLEN INTO SOME KIND OF PRETTILY LANDSCAPED, MANICURED HELL, OZ WALKS ON RAZORLIGHT FOOTSTEPS RIVALING THE GRAZING, TASTING, TEASING BRUSH OF CHICKENSKINNED NAPE AND BRASIL-CUT HAIRS. THE MORE HE RUNS, THE MORE IT FEELS LIKE A STRONG CASE OF SEQUELITIS, AND FAR TOO MANY HEDGES FOR HIS SANITY'S RATCHETY, BITTERLY-AGED TASTE CLOSE DOWN ON HIM LIKE FANGS.
THE WALLS WRAP FAST, THEY SCRAPE, AND DECIDE TO SURROUND HIM LIKE WICKED VULTURE COYOTES, WICKING SKIN AND SWEATY GOOSEFLESH TO A COLD CLAMMINESS. THE SHAMAN'S TEASINGLY, ALWAYS-OUT-OF-REACH TAIL END BEGINS TEMPTING FATE BY OZ-CAUSED CRUSHED LARYNX AND THE REST OF THIS PLACE MAKES A STRONG CASE FOR THE SMALLNESS OF MEN IN SPONTANEOUS WONDERLANDS . . .
. . . IT SIMPLY DOESN'T END.
. . . IT SIMPLY DOESN'T END.
. . . IT SIMPLY DOESN'T END.
"Wait ! " he says, to the deep dark.
"What is it?" answers the
blackness.
"I was promised-" he seethes, breathes, and counts his fingers (well, hooves) for dramatic pause, "- a bloody
answer!
You damn well know what 'what' is ! "
"I can't help you," says
the dark.
"Who am I following? Why am I here? Reveal yourself!" he seethes.
"I can't help you," says
the dark.
At that, his pinned ears flex, and ease, feeling that violence, or aggression, are weak weapons today. "I SEARCH FOR THE RELIC, BUT NOT KNOW WHY. I SEARCH FOR THE STONE-COLORED CREATURE (WHO ELUDES ME THUS), BUT NOT KNOW WHY. NOTHING IN THIS DAMNABLE PLACE KNOWS WHY," HE SAYS, "NOR I, LEAST OF ALL."
At that, the great, gaping dark extends a slender, striped paw. "YOU SEARCH FOR THE RELIC, BUT NOT KNOW WHY. YOU SEARCH FOR THE STONE-COLORED CREATURE (WHO ELUDES YOU THUS), BUT NOT KNOW WHY. NOTHING IN THIS PLACE KNOWS WHY," SHE SMOOTHLY, SILKILY SAYS, "NOR YOU, LEAST OF ALL. I LIKE THE WAY YOU TALK AND SEE, ONCE-WARRIOR; I'M LIKING THE WAY YOUR HEART THRUMS, THE WAY YOU PRETEND TO BE WEAK. NOT EVERY DAY A SOLDIER, ATTEMPTS TO BE INTELLIGENT."
SO THE GREAT, GARGANTUAN SHOULDERS, AND DAINTILY SHAPED MUZZLE RISE ABOVE HIS HEAD, EMERGING FROM THE SHADOWS, FROM BENEATH HEDGE-COPSE FROM WHENCE SHE'D BEEN SITTING, DANGLING HER FEATHER WINGS AROUND HIS STALLING, BAY SHAPE; HER CODDLING VOICE SMOKE SWEET AND RIPE AS OPIUM BURSTING.
"I'LL POINT YOU IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION," SHE SAYS, THE DARK, "IF YOU CAN DO ONE THING FOR ME- JUST ONE ! "
A N Y T H I N G, HE MOUTHS SILENTLY, STARING FROM HER ANKLE-HEELS. SHE SMILES DOWN AT HIM.
She smiles at him, all sugar sweet and charming, coming to sit upon her haunches as she effectively blocks the pathway to the rest of the maze.
“Very well, once-warrior.
“It begins with a noose, strung wide and loose with a rigid notch in the center.
Your life it hangs; only to end hence-forth.
Now tell me which way it sways.”
@Oz
If you need a hint please reply and tag the Random Events account again before the deadline! You now have until Wednesday, July 26th at 11:59pm PST to get one last reply in before the Shaman reappears, so please reply accordingly!
Riddle help thanks to @Meverrnind
Happy writing!
To tag this account: @*'Random Events' without the asterisk.
Please be advised, tagging the Random Event account does not guarantee a response!
07-20-2017, 02:42 PM - This post was last modified: 07-20-2017, 03:56 PM by Random Events
