Dangers untold, hardships unnumbered...

[Martin]

A maze.

If this was not some sort of metaphor for the course of Martin's young and mystifying life, the flame-pointed unicorn did not know what could be. He had approached the strange landmark for much the same reasons that infants reach for their reflected image in a mirror, or sharks maim strange primates that foolishly fling themselves into the sea: because he wanted to understand, and because there is no greater engine for understanding than experience.

All the same, the branded boy entered the maze with a prudent helping of caution. Neither charging nor creeping, bolstering his courage with an oft-recited litany against fear, Martin delved through the winding passages and paused only briefly to consult his baser instincts on which direction to turn.

What awaited him beyond the next bend? What wonders - or horrors - did the near-constant rustling and creaking of the hedges in the wind conceal? He would be ready for them, but only because he had no choice. That was the heart of all Martin had ever learned of life.

A great author once put it another way: It's easy, there's a trick to it, you do it or you die.

The sun had set overhead, leaving him only the glistening stars and silver wash of moonlight to illuminate his way through the maze. He would see for himself what secrets it contained.

@Random Events

• • •

[Random Events]

The Shaman Has Appeared!

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, Martin?” 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.

---

@Martin 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 and specify 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!

[Martin]

The maze grew cold - impossibly cold - and the unearthly meat locker chill of his surroundings put Martin on edge. Reality seemed suddenly degraded, as though any moment a langolier might round the next bend on its quest to recycle space-time and swallow Martin and his questioning existence whole. All sensible mortal beings possess a healthy if relatively unexplored fear of being unmade: Martin contended with just such a demon now. He pressed on.

Goodness knows he'd be lost in the mage just as long trying to escape it, anyhow.

That was when he came upon the shaman.

His voice, every bit as skeletal as his frame, caused the gilded unicorn's hair to prickle in a wave down Martin's spine as he spoke of the relic of which Rostislav had spoken. He would be lying to say the object did not now pique his interest, what with how much effort others had put into finding it, but what he coveted was far less corporeal and - to him at least - far more elusive.

But he couldn't say that. No sooner had he opened his mouth than the withered creature had scuttled off deeper into the maze. Martin bounded after him, following the slap slap slap of his bony feet when he dipped out of sight, but the strange old man was too agile to keep pace. As the shaman's footsteps faded into silence, he caught a glimpse of creeping mist at his back and the ominous hiss of funereal air. He turned to see the ghostly apparition of a small housecat sitting sedately in the path from which he had come. It stood, arched its tail sociably, and trotted toward him with a floating gait, tendrils of mist billowing off its spectral flesh in delicate eddies.

The ethereal cat's meow struck Martin like a wall of sound. He buckled and the spirit leapt, erupting into the form of a great white lion. The unicorn recovered enough to balk away from the lunging beast, flung hard against the prickly bramble wall of the maze. The lion landed and sinuously pivoted to tackle him a second time, but this time he was prepared. Digging his hooves into the frost-hardened, soil, Martin lowered his horned brow and leaned into the lion's leaping charge, impaling it through the center of its chest. It dissipated instantly into smoke once more and Martin, his breath coming in short adrenaline-fueled flutters, staggered off northward through the maze once again.

• • •


@Random Events

[Random Events]

Remnants of the mist from the ethereal cat seems to follow you, tagging at your hooves taking the shape of your own shadow upon the ground. If you are to listen closely, you may even hear the occasional purring growl emitting from the smoky essence.

And similarly to a cat playing with yarn, the smoke begins to bat at your legs, more of an annoyance than all else. However its claws seem to be real, for scratches are left each time they connect with flesh, and this game of its seems to quickly be advancing.

---

@Martin

Again, sorry <3 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!

Happy writing!